postcards for parents

Greetings!

I'm tired tonight.  Parenting extroverts sure can be exhausting for an 
introvert.  Constant noise, questions, chatter.  No room in my head to 
hear myself think.  Actually, now that they are finally in bed, and I 
can hear myself think, I realize that I've been having problems setting 
boundaries lately.

When I have a project to complete or a postcard to write or a phone 
call to make, I haven't been remembering to just say so and declare a 
certain amount of uninterrupted time for myself.  Instead, I try to 
write with one hand and help with homework with the other.  And all I 
get is tired.  It didn't occur to me before tonight how exhausting it 
is to fragment my attention.

Or maybe it did, and I just forgot.  

Hey, it happens!

Anyway, right on cue, just as I'm sitting here writing this, my daughter 
shows up at the top of the stairs.  I tucked her in an hour ago, and 
frankly I'm pretty ready to be done with parenting for tonight.  She's 
whining that she can't get comfortable in her bed.

If this had been one of my well-rested and nurturing moments, I might 
have remembered that there's a big event at school tomorrow and she's 
nervous about it, and probably would have gone into her room for a 
while and helped her settle down.

But it isn't one of those moments.  So I tell her in as neutral and 
loving of a voice as I can muster to do the best she can, and I know 
she'll be fine, and I'll see her in the morning.  The second the words 
leave my mouth I feel guilty, but I'm just too wiped out to do anything 
with my guilt.  She slouches back to her room, and I don't hear from her 
again.

Until breakfast the next morning.  I'm well-rested now, so I check in 
with her about what was going on last night.  She tells me her blankets 
were all twisted up and she couldn't fit her feet into bed.  And my 
guilt delivers its verdict with the pound of the gavel ... Bad Mother!

But in the next breath she sets me free.  She says, "Mom, I didn't 
know what to do until you helped me.  You told me to do the best I 
could.  So I went back upstairs and I figured out how to fix it, 
and I fell right to sleep."   And she was serious! 

Wow.  All that guilt for nothing!!  Turns out that she was fine.  
Even better than fine -- my exhaustion and unwillingness to exert 
effort on her behalf actually led to her accessing her inner resources.

Guilt.  It's a funny thing, isn't it?  From my well-rested vantage 
point today, guilt appears to be simply a lack of trust in the bigger 
picture.  It is complemented nicely by the feeling that I am personally 
responsible for the caretaking of everything and everyone around me.  
(note to self:  your children have their own higher power, and you are 
not it.)

Guilt cannot coexist simultaneously with trust.  When I feel guilty, 
I am not trusting the Universe, or God, Love, Source -- whatever word 
you like -- and my perfect place in its plan.  I know this because on 
those occasions when I do relax into trusting the Weaver of the Big 
Tapestry, I don't worry that my natural inclinations are anything but 
perfect.  It doesn't occur to me that my thread could go anywhere but 
where it is supposed to.  I believe that my arrow will be guided to its 
target, even if I aim and shoot with weary eyes and tired fingers.

Even in this little episode, the Weaver was weaving my eventual 
understanding.  Because I'm thinking that after a certain number 
of these verifications, the awareness might trickle down to my 
bones and make itself at home in my body.  And when that happens, 
I'll stop feeling guilty for my feelings and my truth.  I bet I'll 
even stop apologizing for it.  And probably start resting in it, 
believing in it, and standing up for it.

I think my kids will welcome this change.  It can't be fun for them 
to watch me go through all these contortions trying to cover up for 
myself ... resisting what is, pretending I don't understand or hear 
them, getting angry at them for asking for attention when all I 
really need to do is say 'Not right now, honey.  I'll let you know 
when I'm ready to listen.'  

And although they are already good at forgiving me, I bet it'll be 
even easier to reach a place of forgiveness and compassion when they 
don't have to cut through all my blaming and b.s. to get to the heart 
of the matter. 

Someday, I'll get it.  Until then, I'm grateful that my kids are so 
wise, and so tolerant of their poor repressed mom.  And I'll keep 
hoping they do as I say, not as I do!  Or more accurately, that 
they'll keep doing as they already are doing, and not as I do.  

I think the odds are probably in their favor...

Take care,

karen