Tips from the Zen RN: May Cause Miracles

I am starting a new series of resources that have been really helpful to me in search of the zen life. This book is at the top of my list.

I have had a really negative inner-voice for all that I can remember of my life. A REALLY negative inner-voice. If I were to be truly frank, I would say that the voice in my head is a raging bitch. She tends to criticize me in every way that she can.

*sigh*

A few years ago, I happened upon some podcasts of Gabby Bernstein's and fell instantly into adoration for her candor, kindness and optimism.

In the spring of 2013, I found myself deep in a depression and anxiety filled darkness. When I saw this book on the shelf at my library, I snapped it up and began the work the very same day. My life was completely changed in that forty days- no exaggeration.

The daily work(taking only a few minutes per day, preferably in the morning) truly transformed my inner critic into a more loving voice(hey, it's not complete magic- the bitch still rears her head but now I know how to turn my fear around). It took my anxiety from a 10 to a 2. Those changes alone were true miracles for me and I have now purchased the book for a multitude of friends, who reported similar dramatic change.

This book is now in my toolbox of tricks to make changes when life overwhelms me and I have read it three times now. Highly recommended if the voice of fear has taken over your mind on a daily basis.



                                                   

What books have you read that have changed your life? I would love to hear from you!

School Supplies and Gratitude

The end of another summer break has come to pass.

*sigh*

I love having my children home on my days off and long to live the summer over again. (Just one more time, Universe? Please?) Alas, it is not to be.

So, with the end of the summer comes the inevitable back-to-school shopping. Summer's easy livin' shorts, tanks and flip-flops are replaced with school clothes one size up from last year as the kids have grown by leaps and bounds under the summer sun. Feet are crammed into new tennis shoes as the children look longingly at their flip flops, dirty and ragged from a summer of adventures.

And, then. The school supply shopping. Ugh. You know my frustration, don't you Mamas(and Daddies)?

Lists which seem to grow every year.

Searching high and low for the one item that the teacher was very specific about(brand, type, color) and going to several different stores before -eureka!- you find it!

Dragging your children along so that they can buy the items that suit them best, but finding yourself frustrated one minute into the several hour shopping trip because no one wants to be there(including you).

Feeling as though you are scrounging out every last penny to make sure that they have everything they need.

*Sigh*

It's frustrating, isn't it?

This year I found myself nearly in tears as I shopped with my three kids. We were in Target(ironically, my happy place) and were trying to get the majority of the supplies for my three children in one trip. Each child had a list that was a full page long. The school supply aisles were full of children and parents, several of whom were screaming at said children. I was trying my best to ensure that my kids were getting the right supplies and that they were able to pick out colors and such, when they could. I wanted this to be a FUN experience, a little boost for them to get back into the swing of school. However, we were all just flustered. After an hour and a half and tears from two of my three children, we determined that we had everything that we needed less the items that we would need to make a special trip to another store for.

The cart filled until it was literally heaping and things kept falling of the top and toppling to the floor. I dreaded pushing the cart to checkout. Just looking at the amount of supplies in the cart made my checkbook tremble. But, we pushed our heaping cart(ever so carefully, while occasionally picking up the boxes of crayons that kept sliding to the floor) to the check out and, as expected, I was a little shell-shocked at the amount. The amount was about what my family would pay for about 3 weeks of groceries. I handed over my debit card with a grimace and could feel my kids watching my reaction as I did so. This had not been the fun back-to-school outing that I had hoped for.

We packed up our bags and walked out to the car. As I was loading the many bags into my trunk, I noticed the family in the car next to ours. There was a Mom and her son getting into a rusted, older model car. She held onto one, single bag that appeared to be full of school supplies and he proudly paraded to the car bearing his new backpack on his little back. I could hear a snippet of their conversation. She was saying that they would buy just a few supplies per week until they had them all and trying to reassure him that it was okay if they didn't have them all on the first day- everything would work out. They made their way into their car(which took several tries to start) and drove off with their small bag of school supplies in tow. We sat, humbled, in our car which was full to the brim with the supplies of my three kiddos.

It was good to be humbled.  I deserved to be humbled, for I have so much to be grateful for:

I am grateful for being able to buy my children everything they need and some of what they want.

I am grateful for my children's education at a great district.

I am grateful for my children's teachers and know that they would never put an unnecessary item on that list.

I am grateful to have the money to donate for families that aren't lucky enough to have all that they need.

My children and I sat in the parking lot and talked about that gratitude for several minutes. The three crumbled supply lists in my hand that I had been cursing moments before had become lists of grace, a reminder of our own abundance- an abundance of finance and a great abundance of love.

So, in the midst of the blog articles and social media statuses that are damning the purchase of many school supplies for their children, I choose to be grateful.

I am grateful for my children's school supply lists and the abundance that they represent for my children. Abundance of education. Abundance of items that will help foster their growth this year. Abundance of love from their family and their teachers and school staff.

I am thankful for the start of a new school year, even as a mourn the end of summer with my littles. I will do all that I can to hold onto the gratitude as the blessings of fall roll in.

Motherhood and the End of Summer Sadness

I must admit that I love the lazy days of summer. On non-work days, the kids and I stumble out of bed when our bodies are ready to be roused and spend the day together, at home or off on an adventure somewhere. The pace of our lives becomes so relaxed and, spending nearly every waking minute together, we become even more familiar with each other and my heart sings with joy to get to learn a bit more about each of my children.

Then there are the final weeks of summer. I admit to a rising feeling of panic at the end of summer vacation. The first day of school means not only that our summer days together are over for this year, but also that each of my children are now a year older. Each year my children seem a little less my babies and a little more property of the world at large.

For years I didn’t talk about my end of summer feelings. My social media fills each year at this time with parents screaming out how ready they are for the summer to be over and their children to be in school again. I long wondered if I were alone in my feelings of sadness, if I were the only mother that clung to the last days of summer as if they were my life raft in a turbulent sea.

I know that there will be many blessings in the upcoming school year. I look forward to those moments of watching my children learn and grow. There will be many moments of joy.   

And, when school begins, I will bask in the knowledge of how lucky I am to have healthy, growing children that are a year older. I know as a pediatric nurse, that not all parents get to have that joy.

I will bask in the knowledge that my children are in a great school district and will thrive and learn under the tutelage of their teachers.

I will bask in the knowledge that I am lucky enough to work outside the home only a few days per week and have enjoyed many summer days with my children.

I will bask in the knowledge that my children will thrive under fall’s routine and find joy in the extracurricular activities that they will each choose.

There will be so many joys to come in the fall season. I know this.

But today and tomorrow and every day until that first day of school, I will allow myself a moment of mourning for these summer days of this year that will never come again. Never again will I hold my children in my arms at these ages. Never again will this summer come to pass. There are many wonderful days ahead, of that I am sure. My sadness of the passing of this summer does not mean that I believe the days ahead to be anything but wonderful. Yet, if given the choice, I just might choose to live in these days forever. A forever after of a mother with her young children immersed in the bliss of summer days.  If I tuck enough memories deep into my heart, maybe I can have just a bit of that forever after.

Sunday Night Anxiety

*Sigh*

I love weekends. Especially lazy summer weekends spent soaking up the sun and enjoying time with my family.

I also love my job. I am grateful to be able to work as a pediatric nurse and to do so part-time and with no on-call hours.

Yet...Sunday nights, even starting as early as Sunday morning, I always get the same anxiety. I want another day, another week, another month of weekend days. I don't want to wake in the morning to face my work voicemail and e-mail full of crisis. I don't want to leave my kids with Grandma- I want to be home with them.

I don't usually speak much about my Sunday anxiety. I feel terribly guilty about it. After all, I am blessed to have a job at all- let alone one that I am passionate about and I am also lucky to work part-time and have a Mom and Mother-in-law who take turns taking care of my children. There are so many blessings. I know this. Yet, the anxiety- sometimes mild, sometimes sickeningly strong- persists.

Recently I tentatively broached the topic with some friends and co-workers and found that they also struggle with the Sunday Night Blues. It felt sadly freeing to know that I'm not alone.

I don't remember having these feelings before I had children, but I imagine that I sometimes did. I think what brought my anxiety to a whole new level was the myth of work/life balance for working Mamas. I call it a myth because it is- there is no possible way to balance both working a high-stress job and being a Mama, although we each do the very best that we can. So, I spend my weekends trying to conquer everything that couldn't get done during the work week- housework, errands, bill paying, etc. all while trying to pack in as much precious time with my children as I can. When Sunday evening comes, I am often exhausted and feeling every bit of a failure as a mother because it never seems to be enough and work is looming in the morning.

This Working Mama(and stay-at-home Mama) business is rough. Rougher than I could express verbally to someone who isn't deep inside the grind themselves.

However, I'm ready to turn the Sunday Night Blues on it's head. I'm going to do my damnedest to be the best nurse and the best Mama that I can be and I'm also going to do my damnedest to let go of the chorus of "not enoughs" that are always running through my head. These years, hard as they are, are quickly passing and I am tired of spending one night every week in misery. I am determined to push aside the worries as much as I can and be present with my ever-growing children. They deserve for me to be present with them and I deserve a break from worry and self-flagellation.

Beyond the worry and persistent "not enoughs" that run through my mind is an opportunity to tap into the present moment and mine every bit of gold out of the precious seconds of the here and now. I am ready.

The Gift of Summer Boredom

I remember my childhood summers fondly. Days in which I would leave the house after a still sleepy, leisurely breakfast of cereal that I made myself and come home only for lunch in the middle of a day spent entirely outdoors. We did not live in town and, thus, playmates were limited to siblings and the cousins who lived down the road. Our backyard became the playground in which our imaginations would run wild- turning those few acres into magical forests, the tiny creek into a raging river and our trusty dog, Rex, played the many roles of horse, monster and any other creature that we children did not want to play. By the dreaded end of the three months of summer break we were tan from our hours in the sun, full of the memories of a thousand magical moments and bonded to our siblings in a way that winter’s forced hibernation never seemed to connect us. 

Today, I live on the same acreage that I did as a child. My children have the blessing of having the same grassy patches to scratch their bare feet as they run through it, the same creek to stomp through and catch tadpoles, and not the same dog, but their very own energetic pup to imagine away the days with.

However this is not the same world as twenty, thirty years ago. There are screens everywhere in the house to demand attention- televisions with hundreds of channels, computers with access to a thousand entertaining sites, tablets stocked with apps. There is also no longer the expectation of a stretch of an unscheduled three months. Their school friends tell competitive stories of elaborate vacations, spending time weekly traveling to all of the local attractions- various parks, the zoo, the science center, all the festivals, which come breezing through town. On the very first day of school they will be asked to list their favorite activities of the summer and no longer are the lists filled with things like finding old barn wood to make a bridge over a creek or a day spent in imaginative play with their siblings.

Our children have become used to being entertained every minute. In our house, we have limits on electronics and kick the kids outside on a nice day just as our parents did before us. Yet, the new cry of childhood seems to be “I’m bored”, which is certainly not a new childhood expression but now has seemed to have morphed to not really just mean “I’m bored”, but “Please find something to entertain me, as I no longer can entertain myself even for a short period of time”.

We have made a choice in this household to do what is no longer expected of children in many households. We refuse to spend our days scheduling our children’s every hour. There will be many days with no plans at all, when they will be sent outside with only the grass and the trees and their own imaginations to entertain them.

The screens will be turned off and our children will find that times of quiet can be just as entertaining, or even more so, than brightly colored graphics and cloying music leaping off of a screen. They will bond with their brother and sister, making memories that they will replay in their minds well into adulthood. Even though sunscreen will be religiously applied, they will leave summer with a glow on their skin, which will also sport the bruises that scrapes that come from climbing trees, stomping through creeks and chasing the dog the field.

This summer I will be giving my children the greatest gift of all- boredom. For inside boredom is the gift of getting to know your own mind, of finding solace and joy in nature and in the realization that the greatest gifts are experiences, not things. And, maybe- just maybe, on that first day of school list my children will write at the very top of the list one of the simple joys found in a summer’s day spend outdoors, no screen in site.

Band Aids and Presence

Band Aids and Presence

If you are a mother of a young child, you likely keep a stash of band-aids handy. Children who are just learning to walk and navigate the world have a way of consistently injuring themselves and finding themselves in need of a mother’s kiss and a band aid.

My children are getting older and I am finding them less in need of my magical kisses, but still in frequent need of band aids, colored with brightly cheerful cartoon characters for my younger children and the staid, practical flesh colored sort for my oldest son. I marvel at the simple impact of placing a bandage atop a scrape or other injury and find that it often quickly  quiets the sniffles and complaints. As a mother and a nurse, I find myself keeping little stashes of band aids everywhere- in the car, in the kitchen and  in my purse. They are at hand everywhere that we may go.

I recently tripped in my driveway and fell quite hard, hard enough in fact to scrape the entirety of my forearms, both knees and an ankle and  covering a good section of the concrete in my own blood. It was terribly uncomfortable and  I admit that I found myself fighting back tears as I washed out the wounds. My husband and all three of my children were home, but no one  apparently had heard my gaffe in the driveway(somehow I always hear or see their falls and scrapes and injuries and they never hear or see  mine!) and I was alone in the bathroom, bathing my scrapes and attempting to bandage some awkward areas without having help. I found myself feeling a bit lonely and wondering why no one seemed to care or acknowledge when I was hurt.

 Just as those sorry thoughts appeared in my head my youngest daughter, 6 year-old Emory, appeared next me. Her face was aghast as she took in my injuries and placed her hand on my arm. She didn’t say a word- simply standing next to me and looking at me as  though she would take away my discomfort in an instant. I could feel the pain seeping out of me suddenly, as if by magic. And, it made me remember that the magic of motherhood was never about the kisses or the band-aids in the first place. I wonder if maybe the magic is in the presence of another human being who is willing to stand beside you and bear your pain as if it were their own. If the magic in is the soft cadence of their voice soothing your weary soul. If the magic is in knowing that you don’t have to face this moment of pain alone.

As adults, we tend to hold each other to the unspoken tenants of adulthood- courage, managing your own problems without complaint, responsibility. But, maybe- as adults and as children- each of us needs moments where we can drop our problems messily upon the floor for all to see, bear our injuries- both physical and emotional- boldly outward and have someone, anyone, just be present with us and bear that moment of pain. That simple presence is an emotional tourniquet, the likes of which will never be trumped by a piece of plastic and cloth.

Harper Lee’s New Novel Will Never Live Up to Our Expectations(and I'm reading it anyway!)

I am a voracious reader. There is rarely a day that passes without my nose being deeply imbedded within the pages of a book. I have loved many novels, some so strongly that I cannot bear to hear ill words spoken about the work or it’s author.   I know that I am not alone in my abiding love of “To Kill a Mockingbird”, the novel oft described as “the greatest novel of our time”, written by the reclusive Harper Lee. I have a dog-eared copy of the novel that I has been read so many times that the edges of the pages are now soft with use. The characters in the novel are so familiar to me that they seem like friends or family members that might some day jump off of the pages to join me for dinner.

So, when the news broke earlier this year that a novel written by Harper Lee had been unearthed and would soon be published, I literally jumped for joy. I scoured the internet for details and became even more excited as I learned that this upcoming novel had been written even before “To Kill a Mockingbird” and was full of the very same characters, a novel written about Scout(who now goes by her given name, Jean Louis) as an adult visiting her hometown after a time away. I knew at that moment that I would be pre-ordering a copy and standing in my local bookstore on the date of release in order to read the freshly minted pages as soon as possible.

However, in the past couple of days, the first chapter of the novel was released to the public and the first of the full book reviews have gone live on the interwebs and many of us find ourselves in shock at what appears to be inside the pages of the soon to be published novel “Go Set a Watchman”. Many of my fellow readers must have had their jaws drop along with mine as we read the New York Times’ review that revealed this novel’s portrayal of our beloved Atticus as having “a dark side”. . Other reviews speak of Atticus in the forthcoming novel as “as an aging racistwho once attended a Ku Klux Klan meeting, holds negative views aboutAfrican-Americans and denounces desegregation efforts”. 

 After reading such reviews and a reading of the first chapter, many of my bookish friends have decided to forgo reading the new novel altogether and I can understand that decision. Atticus Finch is, perhaps, one of the most loved characters in literary history and I can deeply understand a longing to not have that character in any way tarnished.

In spite of these concerns, I have decided to keep my pre-order and to read the novel, primarily because my curiosity about the novel outweighs my fear that it may tarnish my ideas of these beloved characters. The response of the literary world to the newly published novel does leave me asking myself more questions about the book, however. I find myself wondering if there was any way for this novel, with the same or different characters, to truly be loved by readers in the way that the original is, even if the new novel had contained a completely different set of characters.  “To Kill a Mockingbird” is a nostalgic, beloved piece of literary history and I feel very strongly that no other novel written by Harper Lee, no matter how wonderful, could ever live up to more than 50 years of readership and a passing on of what has become more than just a book, but a vessel into the lives of beloved characters that seem to have become a part of our very lives. I feel as though there could never be any sort of novel that could ever live up to the hype and expectation that this upcoming novel has spinning around it and it seems like a losing proposition all around.

No matter the discussions surrounding the novel, I will be in line on Tuesday, July 14^th with my fellow book lovers and will rush home to read the pages and, hopefully, lose myself inside the novel and forget about my own life for a few hours. I will remind myself repeatedly that the two novels were never meant as sequels and should be taken as two completely separate works, even if the pages are filled with the very same characters. I know even before reading “To Set a Watchman” that it will not be as treasured by me as  “To Kill a Mockingbird”.  I also know that there is nothing within this new novel that could, in any way, take away any of my love for “To Kill a Mockingbird”, as it will live inside my heart forever. This is what we must remember as we open the pages of Harper Lee’s newest published work- that nothing inside these pages can in any way diminish the light that she brought into the world when  “To Kill a Mockingbird” first hit the shelves.