The Miracles in the Madness

I have been busier than a fly in a field of cow paddies on a hot day in July lately. Sometimes it feels just that poopy. Taking on the world can result in a whole lot of "No's" that really stink. Being a parent to three boys and planning a national event, Moms Across America March to Label GMOs, as maddening as it can be to do forty things at once, has it perks though. Here's a few of the small miracles in life that I could miss out on if I don't stop to sniff the good stuff.

1. Bronson, at 4, still has that warm puppy hair smell. His cheeks still pooch out and he likes to lick you like a puppy when you are not noticing.

2. Bodee teaching Bronson to subtract. And he wasn't taking away his candy.

3. Asking for help and people from all over the country responding with a yes. The instant bond. Miracle!

4. Ben wanting to be a part of the march "because it makes a difference in the world." He gets that HE does.

5. My friend and partner in planning the march knows exactly when I might blow a gasket and tells me we're doing great!

6. When the full moon is out and the communication swirl is at a all time high, I somehow keep my cool. Miracle!

7. The moment in a disagreement when everyone gets that they still love each other and all there is a silence.

8. Our exchange student from Hong Kong running from car to car at a Honk N Wave giving out flyers to strangers.

9. Having a hug and understanding from my husband who supports my mission with extraordinary patience.

10. Bed time stories that go on and on and snuggles that couldn't get any closer. Surrounded by boy bliss. Sleep.

I am grateful, despite the madness in the world, for the love, opportunities and connections with the beauty in humanity.
Every single moment is a miracle if we just see it.

Zen Honeycutt

For the Days When You Want to Give Your Kid Away

If you are a parent you have had those days when you want to put your kid on the curb with a sign that says "FREE!".
Last week I noticed it was one of those days. For weeks actually, I have been getting mad at Bronson when he pouts whines, screams, resists, says no to everything and baby talks. I have been resenting him, resisting him, making him wrong and telling him to stop or go away. I get angry with myself and snap at my other sons and husband. Sometimes, "for sanity's sake", I avoid him and let him watch for TV an unknown amount of hours just to keep him occupied and me from blowing a gasket.
But this is definitely bordering on "Bad Mom" tactics. I end up making myself wrong for really not liking him. I am surviving my son, and myself as a mother.
As a result, I have a sullen, upset, defiant, stubborn and argumentative 4 year old who does not feel understood at all. I have frustration, anger, resentment, exasperation, and guilt. The ugly truth, the one that has me toss and turn at night, is that I have relationship with my son and family that I am not proud of.
And how I occur to myself about this (meaning it's not all his fault...I have something to do with this too), if tell the truth on myself, is that I am being overwhelmed and resigned that it could be any other way. This just is the way it is at 4! I give up! This is so dis-empowering and totally not what I am committed to!

When I looked at what was missing, like what could I put in that would really make a difference, I saw that me being peaceful, curious, and creative would really be inspiring.
And if I were being peaceful , curious and creative, wow…that would make a lot of joy available, connection and fun!

So I created the possibility of being Curious and Fun…like Curious George!
And what happened was: Bronson and I are sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast and once again he doesn’t wanna to eat. He is pouting, frowning, hunched over and looks like he is trying to melt his oatmeal with a laser stare.
Normally I would sigh, get frustrated or even angry and just tell him to EAT! He would complain. I would tell him to stop complaining, he would cry out or holler or even scream. Many meals time result in tears. Eventually he might eat ONE spoonful, I would give up and he would be eating a snack half an hour later. Groan...I know... totally doesn't work!
But this time I came from being curious and fun, Curious George! I saw him pouting and I asked him if he would like his oatmeal with some "really radical raisins" he said “ ba ba” with a ferocious frown.
Instead of getting mad about the baby talk, I just asked “ Bronson would you like to be small again like a baby?”
He said, “Yes I just want to be small and crawl under the table.” Still pouting.

Something shifted inside me and opened up. I was able to just be with him.I got that. I would like to be small and crawl under the table sometimes too! A lot of times in fact.
So I said “ I totally understand that Bronson, you would like to be small and go under the table... I really get that. You know what? Me too! “ He looked at me skeptically.
“Would you like to do that now? Let’s get under the table!”

So I crawl under the table and when he saw I was serious, he drooped down off the chair and joined me with that scrunched up face that is trying to be mad but can’t help a little bit of a puckered up smile…
And we curl up together under the table. We marvel under there, it is a whole new world and talk about painting like the Cistine Chapel…and I grab his Spiderman slipper heads and make them talk to each other. Suddenly he is giggling and I am laughing and when our exchange student came in she asks, “What are you doing under there?" And Bronson says “Having fun!”. I feel like a hot fudge sundae and his little voice is like sprinkles on top. I see in my bright and shiny four year old's face that that is all he ever wants, is fun and attention.
That moment at breakfast instead of being frustrating and forgettable, became wonderful and memorable.
And that would never have been possible if I hadn’t chosen being inspired and invented a new possibility of being Curious George. There is a shift we all have the opportunity to make when we realize we might be coming from an "Authoritorian" style of parenting and choose and "Inspired" parenting style instead. We don't have to, and sometimes it is not appropriate (when a child is about to walk into traffic a big loud NO! is effective) but there is that choice in our everyday life, and we really do "have the time", because it is our time, and our life and we get to say what is important.

After I began to get a little cramped under the table we got up and he sat back down, and Bronson promptly ate his oatmeal all up. No struggle. He just needed the space to be who he wanted to be and be gotten.
I love my Bronson, he is definitely a keeper!

I wish everyone many moments of being inspired by your kids!
Zen Honeycutt

The Bad Kind of Funny

I watched "Parental Discretion", Nickmom's fairly new (at least to me) comedy hour for Moms the other night. A perfectly primped fashionista Mom, Stephanie Wilder-Taylor told well timed self depreciating jokes and had Moms in the audience laughing and nodding with relief. I eased into the safety of being a messy, distracted and often frazzled Mom. It's okay. She gets me. Someone else out there is as lazy a Mom as I fear I might be.
The guest Moms are admitting to being such BAD MOMS. That gives me relief. The laughter that pours out of me feels like finding the match to the last sock in cushions of the coach. I can barely scrape by and be okay. My kids will live. The Gods of Parenting won't come down and smite me.

But then they had the skit on "Super Mom". Although she looked like the opposite of me, a blond preppy Mom in a crisp collared shirt with a shelf behind her loaded with Pinterest type perfect crafts and immaculate house....I suddenly realized almost every word out of her mouth could have been mine. She bragged about her numerous kids, their achievements and scout activities, her roles of leadership and how she was writing a book about parenting....
The crowd was laughing hilariously. She was the butt of the jokes.
I was the butt of the jokes.

Since that night I have to admit my perspective on this blog and and my intentions of my parenting book are deeply questioned. In addition to the weight of being the laughable mom, the un-cool Mom, the mom that people do not connect with because people think she is trying so hard to connect with others by being important, by being a contribution...
In addition to all of that...I suddenly occurred to myself as an self absorbed, arrogant, know-it-all, Pain-in-the-Ass. I questioned whether all my friends really like me. Having a party for my fortieth seems like a bad idea. Is that what people think of me? Self doubt gobbled at my confidence like Cookie Monster on cookies.
My dreams and goals went sour too. My intentions to write a parenting book seemed tainted with sticky black oil and my book seemed to begin to sink into the depths of a sea of normalcy.

It's normal, you see... according to this show, to not like your kids.
It is, in fact, cool and funny to not like your kids.

It's normal and hilarious, according to this show, to be an alcoholic because you can't stand your kids.

It's not only normal, according to this show, but totally justified and Can I get a Hell Yeah! to lock yourself in your room, eat tiny bits of left over chocolate like starving rat while the kids scream and practically kill each other.

It's normal, according to this show, knee-slapping funny and COOL to make fun of Moms who love their kids, don't drink, are inspired by their kids and write about them and actually want to spend time with them.

Can you tell I am sad?
A little defensive and pissed off?

Listen there are moments, sometimes even hours, when I can't stand my kids and can relate to wanting to drink or lock myself away...but isn't an entire show devoted to a slew of self depreciating survival jokes that make a mockery out of people who actually make a difference for their kids just the opposite of what feminism ever intended?
It's not empowering to women. It says "It's ok to live in squalor, drink because you "have to", hate yourself and your kids and make fun of anyone who doesn't". It's basically an advertisement for Zoloft. It diminishes what women are capable of and lowers the hopes of Moms everywhere.

I so want to make this show just bad and wrong and bad and wrong even if I did laugh at at a couple times. But even when I feel the every essence of who I am and what I stand for is being mocked, I am committed to still doing what I do....find inspiration and be creative in any situation.

Perhaps the silver lining in a show which laughs at, lowers the hopes of, and diminishes women might actually in some strange way, leave the viewers feeling better, bigger and confirmed in their survival tactic of parenting.I could even see how, from this show, Moms would be left with, "I am not THAT bad." Like how after reading "The Glass Castle" I felt like a Gold Star Parent.

Maybe after they get that they can survive it, they will begin to enjoy it, and maybe after they really enjoy it they will begin to create something new, shift their perspective and be present to the incredible miracle our children are and the awesome responsibility and joy it is to be their Mom.

It may not be funny to be inspired by my kids...but when I am inspired by my kids I can create a lot more funny with the people who REALLY matter. My kids.
I'll take knock knock jokes with them over self depreciating Moms any day.
Thanks Nick Mom, for confirming my commitment to being that very "funny" Super Mom.

Zen Honeycutt

Feeling Orange

I thought I was getting the flue. My body felt all kinds of achy, stomach wanted to revolt and I was getting a grump on. My body said "quit" but my brain said "sit". "Sit down and put your feet in a big bucket of hot water until it looks like you are wearing pink socks" was the exact direction. A lady from the CA St Grange had emailed me and gave me this advice when I told her I felt like I was coming down with something.
Feet in hot water? That's it? No 12 dollar flue medicine? No special potion with green goop?
I did it anyway.
I sat there for twenty minutes or so, feeling like a pilgrim who should have had a string of garlic around my neck as well.
Ten minutes later, when my feet and lower legs were pinker than a pig in July, my kids came home from school and sitting was not really the best of options. Snacks needed to be somewhat monitored or an entire weeks worth of chips might be inhaled. So I got up and put my feet in arm socks like she directed. And I felt awesome. Totally clear and good!

Wednesday afternoon is my "alone time, art lesson" with Ben. Although I normally would have blown it off and pleaded still sick, I felt fine, so I set up the colored pencils, asked him if he wanted to learn how to draw a portrait and we set to it. I picked purple. He picked orange. He learned the techniques of portraits. I remembered that, damn I can still draw!

After our sketching, I wanted to know more, not just about what he can, like draw a really cute portrait of himself, but how he thinks too, so I told him about an old friend who used to have an email address "Taylorfeelsorange@aol.com"
and I asked Ben,"If orange were a feeling what would you feel like?"
He mused "Hmmm... well, orange maks me think of pumpkins and pumpkins make me think of Halloween, and Halloween is like tricks...so I think mischievious!"
"Red?"
"Love"
"Green?"
"Hmmmm...recycling...so Helpful!"
"Blue?"
"Well....sad." His face drooped.
"Pink"
"Filled with peace!" Easy grin...I loved hearing how he thought!
"White?"
"Normal...umm balanced."
"Purple?"
"Healthy!"
He smiled his big beautiful happy smile, I loved everything about him, and I was so glad I wasn't sitting in bed having a pity party.
I was so glad I used an old fashioned tip to get healthy and have a new moment of connection with my son.
There is nothing more important than health. Our health gives us access to do all the other things we want to do and be all the other ways we want to be...like mischieviously orange:)
Here's to making extraordinary moments, living life to be creative, and listening for creativity in even the most ordinary of moments.

Zen Honeycutt

How to Have Your Children Listen to You

Listening for "Are your words landing in your children's hearts?"

You can tell when they are right? Your children don't blink. Their breathing is imperceptible. They look straight into your eyes and absorb every word. There is nothing between you and them but connecting energy. The buzz in the room is palpable and you are present to only what you are creating...not yourself, not their wants, just the energy of great love.
Then maybe your child might start blinking a lot because they might cry. Or they may burst out with spontaneous hugs and kisses. They are so moved by your attention, your love and your caring, so moved by YOU being moved by your own experience of whatever you are sharing with your child, a learning lesson from the day or story from your past, that the two of you feel like one. You can tell. You didn't plan it. You were just present to love.

You cannot always tell when your words are NOT landing in their hearts, though...because some children listen and doodle and ARE moved.. Some are moved but their face wouldn't tell ya if they had won a shopping spree at a toy store. Some children wear the same expression throughout the day because they are determined not to crack...however they are is simply how they are. That's fine. And if you sense your words are not landing in their hearts, they are wandering off or starting to sing their own little song....all there is to do is to let go of any "make wrong" and get present to what is in your heart.
What Matters to YOU?
Share that. Share your own humanity and your children will relate.

Benjamin Zander, famous conductor and Landmark Grad responds to the question he was posed,
How do you know if you are touching the audience?
He said , "I look to see if their eyes are shining! If their eyes are shining I know I am doing my job."

What job could matter more than being a parent whose words land in another human being's heart and leaves them with their eyes shining?
Inspired parenting is an opportunity that we create. The future is ours to create with our children.
Be love and they will listen.

Zen Honeycutt
This distinction comes from a leadership class at www.landmarkeducation.com. The application into parenting is my own.

How a 4 year old IS Transformation

trans·for·ma·tion
/ˌtransfərˈmāSHən/
Noun
A thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance.

Transformation to me is altering who I am being, how I see the world, how I react and choosing who I am versus just allowing circumstances, resignation and doubt make my decisions for me. Transformation for me is choosing integrity, power, full self expression, freedom and peace of mind.

I get very introspective about this and I take seminars to expand my life and what's possible for my family. Sometimes it seems a serous business.
Other times, the transformation is available right in front of me in my 4 year old.
Here are some examples:

Integrity
Bronson,"Mom, YOU SAID two minutes."

Power
Bronson, "Mom, I'm going to be an astronaut."
Bodee,"Well astronauts are really good at math."
Ben, "Let's teach him math!"
Bronson, "Okay!"

Ten minutes later..
Bronson, "Mommy ask me a math question!"
Me, "What's two plus two?"
Bronson, "Noooooo, I know that one, four,ask me another one."
Me," What's three plus four?"
Counts under his breath with his fingers by touching them to his nose, "Seven!"
Beaming face and math questions under ten become his favorite game.

Full Self Expression
Me," Bronson put your socks and shoes on."
Bronson," NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
I DON'T WANT TOOOOOO! AYYYYYYYIIEEEEEE!!!"

Freedom
Bronson and Bodee playing a game.
Bodee,"First you have to go here and then under the bridge and past the trolls, and THEN you win."
Bronson picks up his piece and put's it on the last square. "Nope. I win."

Peace of Mind
Ten minutes after the dust has settled from a Mommy breakdown of some forgettable random mess that Bronson made, Bronson comes over to me, holds my face in his hands and looks at me lovingly in the eyes. "Mommy are you happy now?"
Heart melts. I see that he just wants me to chose to be happy now, because it's time to be. Me, "Yes, yes I am."

Bronson reminds me that I can scream, win,learn, be my word and choose peace of mind and happiness in a moment.
It's up to me.

The other day, my newly ten year old was sad. His father asked him what was going on with him and he said."I don't want to grow up. I want to be a little kid and I'm not anymore. Sometimes I wish I could just stop growing."

The sullen and sulky expressions of pre teens used to irritate me. I see them in a new light now. Perhaps they are not trying to give us a hard time. Perhaps they are having a hard time...adjusting from the freedom and power of being a magical "little kid" that makes things up and plays with everything and screams when they want, to the new responsibility of being a "big kid".

What might be missing, as we grow, is seeing that we have a responsibility to fulfill on our potential, to have integrity, power, full self expression, freedom and peace of mind no matter what age.

Zen Honeycutt

Far From Home

California is full of transplants. Many of my friends live far from home. A few have moved back home to be with family. I have not. It has been 12 years since I left Connecticut and my whole family. My mother just left us after visiting for a month and as she left, it was like home left with her. My entire being wanted to collapse and cry. I was driving on the 405 so I did not, but I crumpled and withered inside instead.
It's miserable being far away from my family of origin. As much as they can drive me crazy, they are from whence I came. I love her. I love all of my family, and to be faraway from them seems, at time like the most back-asswards way of living in the world. I can justify it with the golden opportunities we have here, my husband's great job, his family and all our cousins and the short distance to the beach and the snowy mountains. Then of course, there is the weather. The almost endlessly sunny days that lull us into a California coma of "we can do anything" because we can. We can plan a birthday party out doors in January at a park and get away with it. I can justify living here for the pure adventure of it all, but nothing makes being away from your Momma right.

Moments after she left I thought about what she said she wished for me, to "smile more and relax more...to take care of yourself first." My first thought, was we are just different. I am a "doer" and she doesn't get that I just feel better when I am busy. She is more of a go with the flow, mosey along and stop and smell the roses kind of gal. But then I thought about who she was when she was with us. She was of complete service. All she did was ask what she could do for us. She had her times of making art and relaxing on the back patio chatting with her friends, but for the most part, she lives her entire life to make others happy. She helped us by cooking, sweeping, playing with the boys so my husband and I could talk or work, and she made art with our 4 year old to prevent tantrum disasters.


Meanwhile, I often plunked away on my laptop, writing email after email to plan the national Moms Across America March to Label GMOs. I dashed about, volunteering, prepping for den meetings and hopping on calls with national leaders. The urgency to "get things done" was fed by the knowledge that I had a loving and free child care helper and I had better get done what I could, while I could.
After she left, I missed her and instead of wishing she would be any other way other than how she is (like for her to stop encouraging me to slow down and relax), I realized that the difference between her and I was zero. Although she was not working regularly to better her nation or the world, like I am obsessed to do, she is of total service to her family. And that is no less important. She gives of herself more fully and generously than anyone I know.

I cried to myself and a friend that I asked to commiserate with me, because I realized that on many days, I took advantage of her being here rather than taking advantage of being with her.

My mother's visit often seems like an opportunity for me to relax just a little bit in my motherly duties...my mom will often make breakfast for my kids while I sleep in just a half hour later, or wash the dishes while I talk to my husband alone after dinner or work on the Moms March after the kids get home from school because I know my Mom will play with them. But after she leaves I am filled with regret for not taking the opportunity to relax and just be with her.

My friend acknowledged my feelings and then gave me the freedom I as looking for from the heaviness I felt. She reminded me my sorrow came from my vast love for my mother. It is a breakdown for me that I was a brat to my mother even once while she was here. It is painful for me to be away from her. That is a miracle of love. My sorrow became my access to relief. I am grateful to have that love for my mother and be present to the contribution she is to us all...even for a month or a day out of the year...far from home.

Zen Honeycutt