Judge Not

It went something like this...

My husband and I took Em for a walk to the river near our apartment. When she's not too busy eating them, Em likes to throw (or rather drop) rocks into the water. She's still in the early stages of speaking, where any word she utters is rewarded with clapping and hoorays from her parents. So you can imagine the celebration when she said 'splash.' 

On our way home, we passed some scattered litter, and my husband said something along the lines of, "Who litters anymore?" Just then I spotted a sock that had been run over so many times it was practically part of the dirt road. "Yeah, and who leaves their sock in the road?" I joked.

As I got closer, I realized it was actually a sock inside a pink baby bootie--the very footwear Em had lost on a walk several months ago. So...that's who leaves a sock in the middle of a road.

 We had a hearty laugh, and were reminded why it's not cool to judge others. Let's be honest--it's hard not to judge. Is it in our wiring to assess and pass judgment on everything that passes before our eyes? Maybe. But it's a pattern of thought worth trying to re-wire. I have to constantly remind myself, "To each their own." Or the reverse:

Perhaps as difficult as not judging, is not worrying about being judged. Because whenever you follow your own path, people are bound to talk. The key is learning to tune them out :) (As long as it's not a self-destructive path...)

Be Convertible

convert'ible: being capable of transformation

Though it may call to mind shiny red cars and women with wind-blown hair, that is the actual definition of 'convertible.' Being capable of transformation. I recently caught of glimpse of my own convertible nature when I tried grilled asparagus for the first time and....loved it. This coming from someone who has to be bribed to eat vegetables. 

I recently (like two hours ago) had a conversation with a good friend about running into people we weren't crazy about in high school, and finding that they had changed. That people who had intimidated and annoyed us in the context of eleventh grade were friendly and decent. Is it because deep, down-to-the-roots change is so difficult to achieve in ourselves that we consider others incapable of it?

 For a long time I wanted nothing to do with change. Even good changes unnerved me, and negative changes caused me to become weepy and lose my appetite. But now, with the insight of an adult perspective, I'm getting better at embracing change, and even seeking it out, sometimes. I'm trying to prove to myself that I can change bad habits (except maybe the nail-biting that resurfaced when Em was born). I'm trying to be more compassionate toward the ridiculous behavior I've displayed in the past (that includes yesterday). I'm questioning what makes up the core of my self, and wondering if there isn't more out there.

Believe that you are capable of transformation. You are. Believe that others are capable of transforming. They are. Give it time. Don't let the inevitable setbacks keep you from trying to reach your goals. Continue on the precarious and intriguing path to becoming who you're meant to be.

Pay Attention

I've been filling in for the secretary at the holistic health center where I worked before I had Em, and today one of the patients (an older gentleman) uttered a common sentiment in a profound way. He advised me to enjoy Em while she's young, and, speaking with the weight of his own regret, said: "You'll wish you had paid more attention."  

I like this idea of paying attention. It doesn't carry the same pressure as the trite exhortation to 'enjoy every moment.' I've been trying to spend at least a little time each day giving Em my full attention. Every last ounce of it. For me the trick isn't so much how to multitask, but how to single-task. How to ignore the to-do list sloshing around in my brain, and technology's multiplicity of enticing distractions, and attend to the present, to my Em. She usually lets me know when a moment of scrupulous attentiveness is in order (with that most effective form of communication--sobbing). They end up being my favorite moments with her, and the occasions when we connect the most. 

The future becomes the present so quickly, and the present morphs into the past with astounding velocity. So I echo my friend, and pass along a piece of advice worth applying. 

Pay attention.

Try New Things

One of the ongoing arguments my husband and I have is about whether or not to try something different on a restaurant menu. I generally opt for reliable favorites, while he's willing to give new dishes a try. I'm always satisfied, but don't ever experience the thrill of discovering a new taste I love, and he occasionally has ordering remorse, but often finds something he really likes.

A few months back, I wrote "TRY NEW THINGS" on an index card, and stuck it to my fridge. I'm not sure what inspired the motto, but I'm glad those three words came to me, because they're transforming my life. They're part of my 2012 resolution to "live creatively in every aspect of my life" (including doing my hair, which I have ignored for the past 25 years, but recently realized is a neglected artist's medium sitting right atop my head).

Last month I got together for a girlfriend's birthday at a restaurant I'd never been to before. My eyes immediately located the burger on the menu, but I forced myself to keep exploring. I told my friends, "2011 me would have ordered the burger, but 2012 me is going to try the Frisee and Raspberry salad." (Apparently 2012 me is more adventurous and healthier--I hope that lasts.) The salad wasn't amazing. I looked longingly at the fries on the plate across from me. But there have been times when trying new things has paid off immensely. (Not when I stuffed a sushi roll in my mouth at that same restaurant. Not then). Times when I've tried new recipes, struck up conversations with people I normally wouldn't, experimented with genres that intimidate me (enter poetry), buy a shirt I'm not certain I can pull off, and go places I've never been, both geographically and emotionally.

Consistency and routine definitely have their place, but it's nice to shake up the routine once in a while, and live on a whim. To not restrict ourselves to our perceived perceptions of what we do, like, and are. Because maybe there's more to us.

Motherhood is lovely in the way it forces you to try new things. Because with our children evolving at an astonishing rate, we have to be flexible to keep up, to solve the issues that arise at each age, to survive. The lives of babies are bursting with change and newness, and yet they accept these variables with curiosity and grace.

I hope I can be more like that.

Make Peace with Inconvenience

In my pre-parent life, I adored convenience. I went to great lengths to make sure life was as uncomplicated as possible. But lately I've realized that my obsession with convenience is usually just...laziness. And I'm learning that kids are...inconvenient. So I've been trying let go of my need for the 'c' word and not always seek the road of least resistance. Some things just take a lot of time, but if you immerse yourself in a task, instead of trying to rush through it, you'll enjoy it more, and probably do a better job.

It's hard not to prize convenience when society does its best to convince us we cannot possibly attend to a task if it requires actual effort. But I can't help but wonder where all the time we are saving by using 'time-saving' devices is going. Aren't we in fact just busier, because we can cram more activities into our days?

One of Em's favorite activities is going berserk in her doorway bouncer. She flails, yanks, spins, and leaps. One day I found myself tiring of constantly hanging the bouncer up in the doorway, and taking it down when she was done. Up and down, up and down. Then I thought, "Why should this bother me? No, it's not convenient, but it's probably helping me lose some of the upper arm fat that's been causing me to avoid capped sleeves." 

By altering my attitude toward convenience, I've found more peace as a parent. It's okay that it takes fifteen minutes to outfit Em in the winter. It's alright if I have to circle the grocery store three times because I keep forgetting things (probably because Em is eating my list). It's fine if I have to do a single load of laundry for three days in a row, instead of getting them all done the same day. It's okay.

The Annoyance Rule

I have a new rule. I can't spend longer being annoyed by something that it would take to deal with it. The need for this rule became apparent when I spent three days being vexed by a confetti of bread crumbs beneath Em's high chair--the remnants of a roll my husband let her go to town on. 

It would have taken less than a minute to vacuum them up, but instead I let them get to me for days. Every time I passed the mess I'd think, "Grrr, I just don't have time to get the vacuum out right now, and unwind the cord, and plug it in..." But if I had time enough to be bothered, I had time enough to vacuum. I was just putting off the inevitable (maybe being petty and waiting for my husband to clean up the mess of his making), and wasting precious energy being upset about a problem with an easy fix. 

Now when I pass the dregs of Em's latest meal, I apply the yank-off-the-bandaid approach and attend to the mess immediately. I scrape the slimy Cheerios from the carpet and use my elbow grease on the sticky counter. I'm annoyed less often, and my apartment is cleaner.

This concept can also be applied to dread. In college, I'd sometimes spend more time dreading the writing of a paper than it actually took me to write it. One definition of the word dread is "to be reluctant to do, meet, or experience." If there's an unavoidable task you've been putting off, stop waiting and attack! Stop dangling your toe in the water to assess the temperature...jump in! Unless you're utilizing procrastination time to prepare or muster motivation, just get it over with. The sooner you start, the sooner you'll finish.

Occupy the Present

Or in other words, live in the moment. I've struggled with this my whole life. Who hasn't? Transcendental poet and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson said:
  
"But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he, too, lives with nature in the present, above time."

But how to do this? I've found it helps to pause throughout the day and ask myself, "What do I like about this moment?" If I'm driving in the car, I might think, "I like that the roads are not icy. I like the song playing on the radio. I like that my baby isn't crying." Being present-moment oriented is empowering. Making dinner is more enjoyable when I'm fully engaged in the task--noticing the texture of the carrots I'm peeling, appreciating the smell of spices, regarding the way warm steam drifts up from a pot of bubbling water. 

When I vented to my counselor about how my baby always needed to be held and I couldn't get anything done, she pointed out that the beauty of children is that they force us to just be. Society has trained us to be busy and frantic and always doing, but our children can remind us to stop. To breathe. To be. 

"Being" doesn't fold the laundry, but it's more productive to enjoy the times when my baby's requiring my attention, than to squander them stressing about what I'm not accomplishing. Practicing being present is a worthwhile goal, considering living in the present is the only way to ensure life doesn't pass us by. 

Disclaimer:

Sometimes life dishes up moments that I don't want to be in, or enjoy, or relish. They are awful, or frustrating, or stressful and I just want them to pass. And they do. Eventually. Such moments are feats of endurance, and they strengthen our patience muscles (not sure exactly where those are located). Sometimes all you can do is hang in there are wait for the dawn, and that's okay too.