Candace Walsh

a la mama

Guest Blogger Lisa Nave on Building Community, Literally.

November 15th, 2009

kids at Serendipity

Over the past few years I’ve become keenly aware of the social fragmentation in our society. What began as a personal experience of feeling somewhat isolated as a parent trying to make my way quickly evolved into a full time examination of family, community and social structures in our society.

As a psychotherapist in private practice, I also noticed that an increasingly high percentage of my clients were having similar struggles. In many families both parents had to work, which meant that they had little time left for grocery shopping and preparing family dinners, or carpooling their kids after school to soccer practice or ballet, or reviewing homework at night, or getting that house project completed. Most of the parents I talked to felt overwhelmed by their responsibilities, and didn’t know how to improve their situation. They had to work long hours to make ends meet, and they often had no family nearby to help with the kids. I recognized these to be modern challenges that needed new solutions.

Beyond the economic difficulties of social fragmentation, I was concerned about child development. I worried that many children were not getting what they needed from their parents or our society. They needed their parents to be consistently present to form secure attachments from an early age, and to feel that they belonged to something meaningful. Whereas being present with our children used to be the norm, it now seemed like a luxury, reserved for those with enough income to fund a nanny, gardener, and perhaps a home chef or trainer. Parents with these luxuries were certainly not your average Americans trying to raise a family.

I continued to read and write about the topic of social fragmentation, and out of it came a manuscript, a workshop, and Alloparent.org, a social networking website for parents that provides a forum for parents to exchange services and support. The idea behind Alloparent.org is ancient: the idea that communities help each other raise their children. As humans we are wired to parent together as a result of millions of years of evolution. But the industrial revolution, among other events, left the modern family isolated—left to fend for itself in an increasing expensive and fragmented culture.

With Alloparent.org, parents can create a group in their city, or a sub-group on their street. They can also create groups for specific needs, such as childcare or carpools or meal exchanges or gardening. And it’s free. Some parents will be interested in forming on-going groups, and others will choose the a la carte option, where they initiate an exchange on a one-time basis. Alloparent.org is there to help serve the individual needs of each parent and family.

More than anything else, I think Alloparent.org represents a mind-set and an awareness that parents need more support in our society. When people join Alloparent.org, they feel that coming together as a community and wanting to collaborate as parents and families is acceptable. They are not embarrassed as they might otherwise be, because the culture of Alloparent.org supports and advocates for community collaboration.

Lisa Nave is a psychotherapist in private practice in Mill Valley, CA. She is also a writer, speaker, and the mother of two boys.

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Guest Blogger Stacia Kelly Returns with Crystal Clear How-To

November 9th, 2009

The Stillness Game:
a script to help you relax your child down to sleep

Sunday morning candace kids 2009

In a previous post, I discussed the art of creating a ‘stillness game’ with our young one to help him learn to relax down to sleep. While there are a plethora of CDs, books, and MP3s (I know, I’ve made one too) out there to help you, sometimes, it’s best for your child to hear your voice in helping them to relax down to sleep.

I’ve found that the keys to relaxation with children are voice and music. There are a variety of methods out there from Transcendental Meditation to using mantras to relax. I’ve found the simple methods of focusing on your breathing or following a step-by-step muscle relaxation work the best for the majority of the adults and children I’ve worked with.

Most children find their parent’s voices soothing when we’re trying to help quiet down a pain or discomfort. Sometimes, they fight you on sheer principle. You’ll need to test this process for a few days to see if you’re going to be able to use your own voice, recruit a family member, or find something or someone else out there to help. Please, test it out for at least a week before moving on to another solution. I’d really recommend trying it for a month so they have some consistency and a chance to succeed with it. But, if you’re still feeling frustrated, move on to something else to see if it will help.

We want both you and your child to have a relaxing evening.

Our focus here is to teach you how to use your voice to help your child relax down to sleep. (You’ll learn to, this can and will help with temper tantrums and general screaming fits.) With your voice, you need to work on cadence and levels. You need to slow your regular speech pattern down so that almost every word comes across on a single slow and steady breath.

To record yourself, you can use such products as GarageBand on the Mac and Magix for the PC. I switch back and forth between both. Make sure you use a headset to help cancel out any background noise. And, if you or your spouse is a musician, all the better! As for music, you want to select something with less than 60 beats a minute. Any of the meditation CDs you find at Target or in iTunes will work just fine for your personal recording. I’ve steered away from things such as nature sounds or thunderstorms, as these make our son agitated in his sleep. Instead, I selected a soft ocean theme with some light harp and flute music in the background. Your music selection will depend on your child. I know one who loves bagpipes!

The script below should last at least five minutes. I start with about 20 seconds of music before I start the script below, giving them a little bit to adjust to the fact it’s bedtime. The music lays just below the voice for the first part, the first five minutes. You want the voice to be loud enough for them to focus on it. When I’m done recording the main session (the first five minutes), I add in enough music to last about 25-30 minutes and then layer in the voice recording just below the music 2-3 more times (you don’t want to be able to consciously hear the voice, on mine, I can hear it at certain parts, but my musician husband can’t, go figure) and then let the rest just run as music.

Ok, time to lay back and relax. Find your spot. Get all nice and comfy. Take a deep breath. And a big yawn. (You will actually yawn.) Letting your body relax. Eyes closed now. Feeling your head relax. Getting all nice and comfy.
Feeling your face relax. Warm, soft, secure. Letting your neck and shoulders get nice and warm. Soft and relaxed. Letting your chest relax. Warm and comfy. All safe and secure.

Eyes still closed, baby. Nice and relaxed. Imagining all the good things you got to do today. All the fun stuff.

Letting your arms get nice and heavy. Quiet and relaxed. Tummy relaxing.
Another deep breath in. And a big yawn. That’s right, nice and relaxed. Winding down now.

Letting your legs get nice and heavy. Feeling warm, safe and secure. All nice and cozy.

Hmm, that’s good. Finding your spot. Letting your body unwind. Let go. That’s it. Safe and secure. Nice and relaxed. Knowing that mommy and daddy love you very much. And that you’re safe, secure, and relaxed here. Nice and warm. Happy. Secure.

Just letting go now. All warm and loved. Knowing that you’re very good and we love you very much. That’s right. Safe and secure.

If you would like to hear a short sample, click here.

Your important items in the script are (and ones you should make sure show up in your own version):
1) getting your child to find their spot
2) repetition
Working with them on “finding their spot” allows them to choose where they’re going to relax and gives them a verbal cue to do so. You are giving them a choice, giving them the power rather than initiating a power struggle. And, if you think about it, don’t you fall asleep in the same position night after night? I know I do. I curl up on my stomach, tuck the pillow under my head and sling my arm over another pillow. I’m out. I watch our son, he curls up on his side, throws an arm over a stuffed animal and once he gets still (i.e., stops kicking his feet) he’s out. As for repetition, this is key in relaxation or guided meditation. Using the same words over and over again helps the brain naturally slow down and focus. Use whatever words you normally use when trying to calm them down, and no, not the ones you use when frustrated, the soft soothing ones.

Practice the script a few times without them around. Find your natural rhythm with it. Use it as a guide to write down your own, adding in your own phrases and terminology. I kept the body parts generic so that even very young children can respond to the process. I’ve seen success with kids as young as two.

A couple of great resources I’ve found and actually used in our efforts, because sometimes, he’s just tired of hearing mommy’s voice, are:

• Bubble Riding: A Relaxation Story, Designed to Help Children Increase Creativity While Lowering Stress and Anxiety Levels. (Book) (Indigo Ocean Dreams) – beautifully illustrated, slightly too repetitive and can cause a school aged child to ask you if it’s “going to keep doing that”, but it does help them relax down. He still asks for it sometimes before bed.

• Turtle Island: A Bedtime Story (CD) by Monroe Products – you’re supposed to use it with a special device, but it works just as well for them on your standard iPod. He doesn’t ask for this one as much. He prefers the next one.

• Softly to Sleep (MP3) by myself – the one I recorded that seems to work the best for our son using the exact methods as I have written about here. I can play it on a road trip, and he’s out. We always take our iPods and a player on vacation, and it seems to help being in a new environment.
Whatever method you choose to use, the books, your own recording, or someone else’s recorded voice, know that you can get them to stop the battles and really give you back your evening sanity. It just takes a little ingenuity and some soft, quiet guidance, and you’ll have your little one sleeping softly through the night.

Stacia D. Kelly, PhD, MHt is a writer and Holistic Health Coach living
with her husband, son and three cats just outside of Washington DC.
She takes a whole mind-body-spirit approach to health and well-being
and teaches her clients to do the same. Blog:
http://www.mindbodyspiritworks.com

[ 4 comments ]

Guest Blogger Rebekah Cowell on Breaking Up with One’s Parents

November 4th, 2009

blog breaking up with parents pic

When you’re seeing a guy or gal who your closest friends suspect isn’t good for you, there will be one tough-love friend who will pull you aside and say, “It’s a toxic relationship, and you need to move on.”

It’s a little different when we’re talking about toxic parents and family.

For six years I’ve been trying to sort out the meaning of that one word family, and how it relates to me and my decisions to estrange myself from those who are my flesh and blood: the mother who carried me in her womb, the father who rocked me in his arms as a baby.

Recently, I ran across an article in the New York Times by Richard A. Friedman, M.D., When Parents Are Too Toxic to Tolerate.

One sentence stopped my breath. He writes: “The assumption that parents are predisposed to love their children unconditionally and protect them from harm is not universally true.”

This is the hardest concept for many of us to grasp.

When I make new acquaintances and the topic of family finally arises, and I tell them I’m estranged from my parents, the response never varies. First shock, then pity. Usually I must assert, “No, I’m happy. I’m healthier without them.”

Running into the same person later, I might hear, “Have you talked to your parents?”

As a society, we need to believe in certain moral imperatives to survive the darker sides of human nature. For example, most of us want to embrace the idea that a parent and a child should maintain a close relationship for the rest of their lives. At the very least we want to hope that this new parent will love their child no matter what and nurture it with love and compassion.

Friedman writes about a patient who he advised to forgo a parental relationship when this patient came to him severely depressed over being disowned by his religious parents for coming out as a gay man.

“Though terribly hurt and angry, this young man still hoped he could get his parents to accept his sexuality and asked me to meet with the three of them.
The session did not go well. The parents insisted that his “lifestyle” was a grave sin, incompatible with their deeply held religious beliefs. When I tried to explain that the scientific consensus was that he had no more choice about his sexual orientation than the color of his eyes, they were unmoved. They simply could not accept him as he was.”

My greatest sin was going to a liberal arts school, and not marrying in the faith.

When I blew out my wrist in college, ending my dreams of becoming a concert pianist, my mother said, “God took away your music because you weren’t serving him.” My injury was supposed to draw me closer to them, and this God of theirs.

But it didn’t.

I finally cut them off, after struggling with anorexia and trying to take my own life, events that illuminated my revelation that I was actually a better, healthier and happier person without their negativity and hostility in my life.

Less than a year later, I became pregnant, as they call it, “out of wedlock.”
They did not know of my pregnancy until my daughter was one week old – they have never met her.

Giving birth healed pieces of my soul. If anything, becoming a mother has made me ever more unflinching in my resolve that there is no excuse for ever abusing a child.

When I hold my daughter close, and I see the love, security and stability she has, I want to weep for what I lost to two people who were not stable enough to be parents.

My daughter is three, and traveling along this path alone without a family hasn’t been easy. Fortunately, my partner is an invaluable parent, and he believes as do I that our daughter’s happiness and security are our most imperative priority.

So many friends assured me that having my daughter would change things. They believed I would reconcile with my parents and that we would create a new relationship—that my status as a mother would give us a new and healthy way to connect.

I never saw it that way, because that is exactly where my parents let me down: in parenting itself.

How would I sit down with my mother and talk about raising my daughter? What advice would I even begin to accept from the woman who had physically and verbally abused me? What parenting skills would I learn from her?

If I took her parenting advice, I would tell my daughter about an angry God, and I’d fill her mind with stories of demons and the devil. A family member gave me a Cabbage Patch doll for Christmas when I was five, and it was taken away because it was considered “heathen.” My parents did not allow me to attend school past kindergarten, I was forced to wear long dresses that covered me up every day, and I had to attend church several times a week. They told me that any career other than being a wife and mother was a sin.

My parents forced me to learn Bible verses and squelched my beautiful creative soul with a steady diet of “no”s and spankings. Would I make my own daughter kneel on her little knees and ask God to forgive her for her sins, at the age of 4 and then have her baptized before she understands what “sins” were?

No, I would not.

Though I believe that the instinct for mothering and parenting a child with love is strong at birth, I think it can be overridden by environment (and in my family’s case, religious dogmatism). A toxic relationship, whether with a father, mother, or lover, makes us weaker, not stronger. For one’s health alone, letting those relationships go may be the very best chance any of us have for blossoming into the beautiful souls we were created to be.

I’d like to say I’ve sorted out what the word family means to me, but to be honest, the word still conjures more questions than answers. In the last few months, my daughter has picked up what a family is from her books and stories; recently, she grabbed my hand and her father’s hand as we sat together and looked up at us, brown eyes filled with love, and said, “We’re a family.” And perhaps that is my answer.

Family is a concept defined by what you create, and as corny as it sounds, where your heart belongs. My heart did not belong to the people who conceived me, but it has found its home.

Cowell author pic
Rebekah L. Cowell is a freelance writer for local newspapers and national publications based in Pittsboro, North Carolina. Prior to motherhood and taking the writing path, she was contemplating law school (what else do you do with a Philosophy degree?) and/or living aboard a sailboat.

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Getting Through a Terrible Preschool Year

November 4th, 2009

IMG_5576
Nathaniel’s last year in preschool was horrible. There’s no other way to say it. He’s in kindergarten now, and I had anxiety over the summer–would this be a horrible year, too? At the same time, I knew worrying wouldn’t help, and that “worry is using your imagination to create things you don’t want,” one of my favorite wise things Ashisha (Mothering’s editor-at-large and resident sage) told me.

He loves kindergarten, and seems to have a new peace about not only school, but his place in the world. It wasn’t good for him to be one of the oldest kids in preschool. He was bored silly, and boredom generates a very naughty Nathaniel. He was consistently freaked out by random physical lashings-out by younger children who bit, hit and kicked. “He doesn’t hurt the kids back, but he breaks things in the classroom later,” I was told. I had a really hard time having a dialogue with the teacher, who didn’t have a phone at home and also did not use email.

He missed his aftercare teacher from the previous year, an angelic young woman who spent the whole aftercare period on a comfy couch with him, reading him stories, stroking his back, and giving him lavender foot rubs. I bet you twenty bucks that when he falls in love with a woman (if he falls in love with a woman) some day, she will resemble the lovely Kelsey.

One day in preschool, Nathaniel ran away from school with a pal and was found a few blocks away, throwing empty glass bottles into the street. I mean, nightmare! That scene could be made into a cartoon about what future juvenile delinquents look like.

Nathaniel stopped breaking things, but he started fighting back. At home, he talked a lot about being kicked, punched, and pushed. There didn’t seem to be a sense of cutting down on that. As if they were puppies, or bear cubs wrestling. Except that I could tell that he felt traumatized by it, and couldn’t relax and enjoy his day. I cried a lot. I cried because I felt for him, and I wished for him that he could avoid conflicts when possible.

Perhaps selfishly, but very humanly, I also cried because it seemed like my child was being seen as “the bad kid” and that made me feel like I had failed him. I cried because I felt like I couldn’t get through to the teacher, and that my concerns were being dismissed and that I was being punished by bringing things to her attention, because that was the only time she would give me a litany of what he had done. And she didn’t tell me beforehand, even though I had asked to know what was going on.

I went to the principal/the head of the school. I felt heard by her, and we even discussed moving him up into kindergarten for the last three months. But…it would rob him of a sense of closure, and not give him the chance to feel like part of an entering class. It might be too stressful and set him up for another uncomfortable school experience.

His dad and I started picking him up every day at 1pm. It seemed to help a lot, because he got more one-on-one time with us AND he missed out on the afternoon vibe, which seemed to get progressively wilder as the day went on. We gave him extra cuddles, and made his bedtime a stricter 7:30pm, so that he was well-rested. I also bought an amazing story book, Healing Stories for Challenging Behavior, by Susan Perrow. I read him stories each night that were captivating and delightful, and also addressed his challenges (bullying, grieving, feeling victimized, being uncooperative and destructive).

I also talked to his big sister about going easier on him right now, because he was having a tough time. Unchecked, she will do all of the classic one-upmanship older sibling stuff, but that was just adding to his load. We needed to support him, build up his confidence, and reinforce positive traits. I was very pleased that she “got it” and changed the way she spoke to him.

To help them both understand, I made up a thing called “friendship bricks” and “friendship smacks.” If you say, “I made this picture,” and someone responds, “I can make a better one,” or “I don’t really like it,” that’s a friendship smack. It undermines a relationship. If you say, “Good job!” or “It’s beautiful!” or even, “Tell me what’s happening in this picture,” that’s a friendship brick. It’s a brick in the wall of a friendship. I reminded them both of this whenever I heard friendship smacks going on in the back seat of the car or at home.

I thought about changing schools, but I also had a strong, deep intuition that he would be okay once he got to kindergarten. It’s a different environment, with different expectations, lots more to be engaged with, and older kids. I feel very committed to our kids’ school overall, and wanted him, in the coming years, to experience what his sister had. We just had to make it through three months. And things did improve, a lot.

We met with his kindergarten teacher yesterday for a routine conference. I had a tight feeling in my stomach. Would it be another upsetting meeting? It was not. His kindergarten teacher told us wonderful things. He’s busy, loves to build elaborate forts, with other kids and on his own; he can be set down next to any child in the class and he has a great time talking/playing with him or her; he is beginning to “sparkle” and his eyes are gleaming with a sense of mastery and enjoyment. He enjoys playing with kids a little younger than him and a little older than him. He’s having fun and he is thriving.

Last week, he told me, “Daddy gave me the striped lunch bag because he couldn’t find my cars lunch bag, and that made me upset, because I had that lunch bag in preschool and that’s when the younger kids were hurting me. I don’t want to see that lunch bag ever again. It makes me upset.”

I became suffused with a flash of bittersweet emotion. I felt proud that he was so lucid about his feelings and associations. I felt sad about the terrible year. “Sweetheart, if you want, I will throw that lunch bag in the garbage as soon as we get home.”

“No, Mommy, don’t do that. Just put it in the garage. I don’t want to use it, but I don’t want you to throw it out, either.”

And so I did. It sits on a shelf next to the extra coffee maker and the leftover paint. For some reason he wants to keep it around, but out of sight. Maybe he gets on some level that this experience was like a ring of a tree, showing growth and also, closure.

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awesome craft from www.ourbigearth.com

April 26th, 2009

We made this, and it was fun. Notes: I used solid card stock instead of patterned scrapbooking paper. Now I want to make more. It’s a rather wholesome addiction, this crafting.

Family Craft – Waldorf-inspired Winter Birds

Posted using ShareThis

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Random Top Three

April 13th, 2009

1. the book Healing Stories for Challenging Behavior by Susan Perrow (Hawthorn Press). As a writer, a reader, and a mom, the idea of telling stories that engage my children’s imagination, vs. giving direction that engages their rational minds (which can just feel like it initiates a series of slamming doors) is quite inspiring. There are A LOT of stories in the book, but the book also talks you through creating stories for particular situations. It’s like formulating an Rx for a particular ailment, on the spot, or over a few days. She talks about “story medicine.” How stories can be actual medicine. I love the way that my kids relax against me when I read them bedtime stories. Their weight becomes like sleep weight–peaceful, planted where they are. Sometimes, I’ve ad-libbed a story in a situation that is rapidly spinning out of control–on a long car trip, or in the store. It catches their attention and gives me some leverage. They want it, too. They need me to provide a yummy place for them to go. That’s why they’re fussing and acting out. (Not because they’re horrid beasties…although it sometimes feels that way.) I can not wait to try out some of the stories…and to repeat them…some of them are retellings of tales I remember from childhood, like the Elves and the Shoemaker. Some are ones Perrow composed, some are collected from others. I look forward to having a well-exercised and wise story generator inside myself. You can get the book at steinerbooks.com, or hunt around for a second-hand source if you want to save a few bucks.

2. Hilary Meyerson’s essay “Endgame” in this spring’s Brain, Child magazine, and on their website, www.brainchildmag.com. It talks about what the real point is–of exposing your kids to things like violin, ice skating, gymnastics–and that real point has nothing to do with Carnegie Hall, or cutthroat competitiveness. It has to do with having fun for fun’s sake–something we all need to experience on a regular basis.

3. (Fair trade, sustainable) Shea Terra Organics…I love their Miombo Mango Shea Butter Dead Sea Salt Scrub, their Bourbon Vanilla Indigenous Shea Body Butter…both things that ready my winter skin for spring. Ay, crocodile. You know what I’m sayin’. So as I cavort around the tennis court, I can do so with glowing, revitalized limbs…all part of my goal to have fun for fun’s sake. (www.sheaterraorganics.com)

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Puppet Show

March 4th, 2009

My son is a funny combination of a morning person and a morning grouch. He hops out of bed before any of us, but is most prone to be in a skutchy* mood. He is not an early bird who is cheerful. Oh no. He is an early bird who is truculent and absolutely sure that he gets less cereal in his bowl than his sister does, no matter how much I strive for visual parity.

 It doesn’t exactly make our mornings flow more harmoniously. However, when I woke him up yesterday, I absentmindedly picked up his plush wolf puppet (I think it’s a Folkmanis), and let the wolf wake him up. Soon the wolf was attempting to dance with his penguin, and being an absolute goofball…Nathaniel woke up with a GRIN on his face. His good mood lasted all the way till school dropoff. I have no idea how long it endured, but yeah. Morning laughter. Good. I think Wolfie will wake him up, or greet him first, from now on.

 

*skutch (n.), skutchy (adj): pronounced with oo as in book. Walsh family term for irascible/touchy. May also be a word others use. If so, let me know : )

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fever in, fever out

January 30th, 2009

Honorée had a fever last night, poor budgie. At one point she said, “Mom, the bed feels like it keeps on getting higher and higher, and it’s scary.” I rubbed her feet with lavender and peppermint oil…at around midnight, I gave her a bath infused with peppermint, lavender, and Young Living Thieves oil blend. She noticed that she was now as long as the tub. That’s a big moment, isn’t it? Her eyes seemed huge in her small white face, but she had a certain placidity. I never enjoy being sick but there’s something about fevers that feels very enlightening and related to altered states of consciousness. Purifying, raising the temperature to drive out what is not the essence. In Sanskrit, tapasya means “heat,” and is used to describe spiritual ecstasy, spiritual suffering, and “essential energy.”

This morning, she woke up chatty, famished and thirsty, and ate dry Mighty Bites cereal faster than I wanted her to. She had a brief, low flare-up of fever and then mellowed out again. 

It was hard for me to fall asleep because I was worried about her. I came in at one point and put my hand on her chest to feel the rise and fall of her breathing. I used to do it when she was a baby, but haven’t done it much lately. Sometimes, to me, being a mother feels like being at an amusement park five minutes before it closes. So much there, so much to do, so much I want to be present to but as I am present, I become aware of what I have not been present to in the past, what I’ve missed, what I’m missing right now, what I will not have the omnipresent superpower to soak up in the next five minutes and for all time. Breathe…

I love.

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rockin’ around

December 10th, 2008

We have Tree.

I have gone back and forth with the Yule tree dilemma. Buy a sustainably harvested tree? Buy a tree that you can plant? A (apologies to Martha Stewart for my cheeky usage of the following term) faux bois, aka fake tree? 

I don’t know about you, but trees are loaded for me. I have memories. My late Grandma Marie’s very cute, 2-foot fakey, that sat perched atop her heavily consoled color television (you know, decorative carving, lots of wood polish residue, tweed-covered speaker screens), Christmas cards strung around it via string stapled to the ceiling molding (and I could do a whole ‘nother post about holiday greeting cards). All those awful stories about peoples’ houses burning down because they chopped up the tree and put it in the fireplace. The tree at Rockefeller Center. The time my mom and stepdad decided to buy the cheapest tree in the lot, and got one that looked as sparse as Charlie Brown’s–worse, in my teen perspective, than no tree at all. The tree I bought next to Tompkins Square Park when I was 27, and walked home with it lashed to my vintage yellow Schwinn bike that had a name (Heloise). Peter and I carried it up 3 flights of stairs and decorated it with my costume jewelry, as I, so recently a solitary urban chick, had no ornaments. The first tree I got as a mother…Honorée was four months old and my brother and I drove to a big box store and got two–one for my mom and him, and one for my house. Everyone stared at us–I think they seriously thought that WE were the family unit–a teen boy, a pushing-thirty woman, an infant, in a beater car, buying two trees…the judgment vibes were thick, or so I imagined, postpartum and identity-wobbly. 

A few years ago, my dad visited Santa Fe, when I was still married, and Peter and I were having some seriously snipey moments. “I think it’s hard to decorate a tree sometimes because we remember those who used to be with us, and now aren’t,” my dad said. Including love, I think, looking back. It was excruciatingly hard to decorate the tree after the love was gone. Not that I put my finger on it at the time, or could bear to.

But wait! There were good tree memories, too. They’re in my head somewhere. The time when I was four and there was a bicycle under the tree–my first two-wheeler, a Radio Flyer, which I told people actually did fly when I rode it. The tree that had a Cabbage Patch Doll under it, when I thought my folks would think I was too old for one, but I still wanted one anyway. Good memories are a bit harder to hold on to than bad ones, criticism burns deeper than praise, you know how it goes. I read that it’s an evolutionary brain thing: it’s more important to our survival to remember threats than neutral to good things. 

Two years in a row, I’ve bought a plantable tree, and both trees have died on me before I got around to planting them. Hello, guilt! Call it too long frozen ground, not being in a place where I could commit to literally putting down roots, an intermittently green thumb. 

This year, I bought a 7.5 foot fake tree, pre-lit, with pine cones on it. I will have it until it fails (and I can’t really imagine that happening). That’s the kind of tree I can commit to. Portable, re-usable, in perpetuity. We got it on the spur of the moment, and the kids and I decorated it on the fly. I didn’t have to fuss with balancing the lights perfectly (I can be a bit psycho about that), because someone else did it for me. Nathaniel donned the Santa hat, and we danced to Burl Ives Christmas songs while placing sentimentally precious ornaments on the branches. I lifted Honorée up, my arms around her coltish calves, and she, wobbly, proud and intrepid, placed the angel on the topmost branch. It was not solemn, nor was it entirely irreverent. It was doing the thing without it having quotes around it. A relief. Afterwards, they went to bed and I sat in the darkness, staring at the totem.

It is a “good” holiday memory Christmas tree year, but this is one thing I realized: every year, no matter the circumstances or the emotional tenor, I have been unable to do anything but succumb to that moment, that spell, when the tree is up, glowing, festooned, and I feel soothed, satisfied and enchanted.

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still in shock

October 29th, 2008

Yesterday, Peter called me to tell me that Nathaniel (4) and his friend Charlie (3) snuck away from their teachers and class during the daily arroyo walk, and were found on the sidewalk of a busy street, next to a recycling bin, throwing empties. 

Hi. 

That is so crazy! 

And I’m having the classic Walsh reaction to tragedy/tragedy narrowly averted: every time I think about it, I giggle. Nervous laughter, I guess. Or complete and total joy that THEY’RE STILL ALIVE. 

Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Nathaniel. I did one of those things where I hugged him tightly, then admonished him sternly, repeat. I saw Charlie’s mom last night at a parent meeting for Honoree’s class and we just looked at each other. Like, Oh. My. God. She, too, alternated expressions of dismay and hilarity. “They pulled a Tom and Huck,” I said. 

And in case any of you are wondering, Nathaniel is still having a lot of fun at school with the phrase “butt crack.” And that is now relegated to the category of a “smallie.”

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