Dear Parents & Caregivers,

It's been a week.  With multiple family gatherings coupled with the first snow, illness and loss I have not been at my fullest.  I haven't been at my healthiest mentally or emotionally.  And when I'm depleted, I am less patient.  And when I am less patient there are more meltdowns.  It's not an easy thing for me to admit.  I pride myself on rising to the occasion, on breathing it in and pausing as I process.  For reasons both conscious and subconscious I did not choose that path yesterday.  Yesterday I lost it.  Granted 'losing it' means different things to different people.  No matter your definition - or mine - when you aren't living your values; when you aren't living in a way that's aligned to the world you hope your children inherit,  you feel it.

The worst part, for me, is the aftermath.  When I storm, I feel the wake of my destruction for days after.  I see my overreaction in the little mirrors that run around the house, reflecting back to me what they've learned.  I feel the guilt heavy on my heart, I feel the tears sting behind my eyes and I have this yearning that catches in my throat wishing that I could have that one back.  The thing is - it wasn't even a big thing.  It was a little thing.  The millionth little thing over the past week and like a shaken bottle of champagne whose cork was popped off too suddenly I couldn't contain my insides anymore.  

So, this week - instead of the post I wrote with my thumb as our three-year-old spent hour after hour snuggled in my lap asleep, my heart said, "share this."

With L.O.V.E. ,

Sarah

Join the PPR Family - click here

  Reflection

As a parent I find myself in another familiar paradox.  I want nothing more than to live life with our children AND - boy do I miss some personal time.  This becomes more apparent when things are slower somehow.  As I sat, doing the most important thing I could be doing - snuggling fever-ridden Leif - I longed to be doing all of the other things.  I knew this was where I most needed to be, but I felt the pull of the daily responsibilities that didn't get the memo that we were taking some sick days.  The house was a disaster - the laundry screamed at me, the dishes accumulated as I rushed to do only the bare minimum; grateful for Mike who tackled the kitchen mayhem when he finished work.  And of course, we had gotten aaaallllll of the holiday decorations out just before Leif got sick - so things were everywhere.  I also felt the pull of my other hearts.  TJ made up for lost time during the day and requested more responding in the night.  For the most part, Joshua handled the shift in attention well, but you could see the sadness in his eyes and on the second night, after Leif was in bed and I was about to start on the laundry he asked, "Mom, do you think you have any time for decorating with me?" I melted.  We hadn't spent much time together and we both felt it.  Knowing in my bones that this is where I was actually needed I put the towels down and included him.  "I tell you what, let's get these towels started together and then - let's decorate!"  Joyful Josh, as we call him, is an especially apt nickname during the holiday season - this kiddo LOVES to decorate.  The 30 minutes I spent fully present decorating with Josh, TJ and Mike were good for the soul.  And I wish I could say that I could see that was enough.  Truth is, I went to bed feeling like much less than enough.

This is where it tends to start for me - those seeds of guilt.  Instead of taking a pause, I pressed on, pushing the many emotions of parenthood to the back, stuffing them down to deal with later.  Well deal I did - though not in the form I would have consciously chosen.  The next day, low on sleep, and patience I didn't pause.  I didn't breathe.  I didn't work myself from upset back to calm -  instead I acted in my upset. 

As I reflected last night and into this morning my mind continued to return to a quote of sorts I was given during my first year of teaching.  

I remember reading this quote and brushing it off... at first.  It was too big.  It was such an immense responsibility that I wasn't ready to fully accept at 22.  I didn't want it to be true.  I wanted to focus on the things that weren't in my control.  I wanted to feel justified in how hard learning how to teach was for me.  And I wanted that hard to justify my impatience and mental state.  Teaching was the hardest thing I had ever done (and I excelled at hard things - classic TYPE A).  And I didn't expect it - at all.  I made the choice to become a teacher just before graduation without a teaching degree (which is another story for another time) I ignorantly thought that teaching would come naturally to me.  Both of my parents were teachers, I had experienced having a teacher my whole life. Etcetera, etcetera.  When I received a kindergarten placement, I pictured coloring, play-doh and children hanging on my every word and blissfully following each instruction I gave.  

This was not the reality.

For the first time in my life I was failing.  And I knew it.

I looked everywhere I could for a solution.  I tried a different classroom management system every week, and, some weeks, every day.  I read and read and read.  I tried this. I tried that.  I rearranged my classroom again and again.  It wasn't until I looked internally that I began to understand the quote and just how incredibly powerful it is.  After months of running from this reality I began to accept it.  I came back from Winter Break resolved to do better by taking responsibility internally.  I posted this quote in multiple places in my classroom and I read it each morning before leaving my car.  And I became.   I became the teacher I aspired to be.  I became patient.  I became more reflective and open to growth.

As difficult as teaching was (between twenty-plus students in a school district that stereotypes and statistics would have you believe was hopeless) parenting is harder.  When I was a teacher I went home every night able to refuel myself; able to choose how to spend my time - even if I did spend it on data analysis; able to sleep soundly or not.

As a parent there is no 'going home' - you're always 'making a home' in your action or inaction.  As a parent I still read and read and read.  I still try this and that.  I rearrange routines and furniture to support our growing family. And most of all I look within.  What I'm grappling with I haven't found a solution for.  I still haven't figured out how to refuel myself when I need it most.  I'm actively working on this aspect of parenting so that days like yesterday become fewer and fewer.  Because I am the heart of our home.

Full circle back to where we began.  I decided to take the quote and reframe it with parenting in mind.

I've come to the hopeful conclusion that I am the heart of our home.

I have an incredibly involved and supportive partner and I am still the heart of our home.

Our children and my partner look to me to see what they can expect from the world, and what the world can expect from us.

It is my approach to self-care or self-neglect that fills or empties my capacity to fill our home with L.O.V.E. or without.

I can take each day moment by moment 

and I choose to PAUSE or press on.

I decide what is most important and what only feels urgent.

It is my response to whatever the day holds that shapes the future. 

When I error and error I may,

They see what repair and genuine apology look like.

I can forgive myself and remember that most likely - they already have.

Because I can be the heart of our home and not be perfect.

And in its own way - that may be just what our home needs the most.

(c) Pause Parent Repeat

**Of course, all caregivers impact the home.  No matter the make up in your home - 1 parent or 2; other caregivers or not - it is the adults whose response creates the weather.  Our children are natural barometers and in the moment and over time will reflect the pressure within the home.  

This is simply a reflection of our home.  In our home and current approach to life, I am the primary parent.  And while Mike is incredibly involved and certainly impacts our daily experience, I've recognized that within our dynamic when I am not living with L.O.V.E. no one is.  This is not because I'm the mom.  This is simply the reality in our home.  Who is the heart of your home?

I invite you to make this your own if it speaks to you.