Letter to my Children: Parenthood can be Quite Humbling

/
Letter to my Children: Parenthood can be Quite Humbling

Dearest Beloveds,

Parenthood can be quite humbling.*

One of the most confronting parts of being a parent is realizing you are passing down your neuroses/limitations/Cranky Monster baggage to your children.

Many teachers over many years have all taught me the same thing. We are energetic beings in physical bodies. Our energy body/aura surrounds us like a glowing multidimensional egg of vibrational me-ness.

In that aura there can be blockages. Blockages made of past habits, memories, things that trigger us, woundings, fears, etc etc. Rob Wergin likes to call them mud pies. Mucky, dark, heavy glurpy goo that sticks within our aura and blocks energy flow. Meme told me when I was 12 that 4th dimensional creatures live in our auras - called in as helpers when we are afraid or in pain but then they never leave and become a handicap.* Perhaps those two are the same thing.

I spend a great deal of energy and attention cleaning up my personal mudpies - but sometimes I think I splash mud onto you two when I am not thinking.

Read More

Letter to my children: Motivation, Rewards, why Zingermans (Visioning) Rocks

/
Letter to my children: Motivation, Rewards, why Zingermans (Visioning) Rocks

Dearest Beloveds,

I recently ran across an interview with Dr. Tony Nader and Daniel Pink about motivations and rewards. Your Momma was cringing as I listened to their discussion because it dawned on me that all day long I am offering you contingent rewards. As Pink calls them, an “if then” reward.

“If you don’t eat your breakfast we can’t go to camp.”

“If you don’t set the table, I will dock you one strike. As you know, after three strikes you won’t get your allowance.”

“If you don’t do you math lesson, we can’t read stories.”

Read More

Letter to my children: The Teachings of the School Bus

/
Letter to my children: The Teachings of the School Bus

Dearest Beloveds,

The school bus - both incredibly useful and also a huge teaching tool. Who knew?

When we have time, it is joy to meander down the road, looking at the autumn olives and the late blooming iris (poor thing, right before the frost hits). We hold hands. I sing Waltzing Matilda…

“Down came the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred. Up came the trouperrrrsssss!” I hold the note and look over at the two of you, - perhaps I give your hands a squeeze.

Read More

Letter to Dragon: "My father broke my arm"

/

“Look at you. That is some cast. How did that happen?”

Dragon, loud and clear, “My father broke my arm.”

Wait what!? Dragon!

The parking attendant’s face froze. I interjected quickly. “Dragon, your father did not break your arm.”

Indignation retorted loudly, “yes, he did! He hit it with a ball!”

Arrgggghhh

Read More

Letter to my children: Making Hay While the Sun Shines

/
Letter to my children: Making Hay While the Sun Shines

We pulled into the road. Three large metal contraptions faced us. Equipment I would have not been able to identify 10 years ago. Next to the tractor with the forklift front was a round baler and a rake.

The field was marked with the pattern from a mower. Thick threads of dark green wove between the stubbed brown of shorn stalks.

And rain fell onto the windshield.

Read More

Letter to my children: Yes, Your Mother is a Hypocrite. We all are.

/
Letter to my children: Yes, Your Mother is a Hypocrite. We all are.

“Why did that man leave his truck running?” The Bean looked affronted.

“I asked him if he could not idle his engine while he talks to your father - he told me that otherwise he cooks like a sardine in there and he needs the air conditioning.”

“Why doesn’t he open a window? His engine hurts the earth.” Outrage and disbelief sharpened her tone and her eyes.

Oh no, Corinna, own this.

“Beloved, I hear that, but you know what else hurts the earth? Cheese that we have in our refrigerator. It is from France. It came over on a big boat and used lots of food miles to get here.”

Read More

Letter to my children: Pocket Peas, Black Caps, and Baby Chickens

/
Letter to my children: Pocket Peas, Black Caps, and Baby Chickens

“Didn’t you pick peas for dinner?”

“OOOOoohhhhh, right.” Dragon reached into his pocket and started pulling out handfuls. “I did pick them, and I forgot.”

3 peas were palmed onto the counter. 4 more peas were placed on top. Handful by grubby handful, peas appeared.

I looked at our dinner guests and started laughing, “would anyone like some pocket peas?”

Surprisingly, everyone but the family declined to eat pocket peas. Ah well.

Read More

Letter to my children: When Deep Breathing is not Recommended

/
Letter to my children: When Deep Breathing is not Recommended

Dearest Beloveds, there are times when being the sandwich generation feels more like being a squashed generation. Global warming seems to be that issue right now.

“Corinna, on the counter container, I want one.”

Where are we? New York? DC?

“You would like me to get you something that lives on a counter.”

“Yes, for drinking.”

For drinking? What the hell lived on the counter for drinking?

Read More

Letter to my children: The Green Glass Doors

/
Letter to my children: The Green Glass Doors

Dearest Beloveds,

The latest craze in the house is playing the Green Glass Doors. What started out as a riddle to stymie us all has turned into a spelling game that travels with us everywhere.

Bean, you brought the game home from Flying Deer. We were sitting at the dinner table.

“Okay, here is a new game. Tell me the rule for how this works. I can go through the green glass doors. And so can you Momma. But Dragon cannot.”

Read More