Frances

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments 

when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." 

Thornton Wilder

Her name was Frances.  I knew from my girlfriend Susan, who had taught Frances in the first grade, that she was a special girl.  I was teaching Grade Three when Frances was in my class.  

I was passionate about getting the kids to write, so I had them each keep a 'writer's notebook.'  It wasn't meant to be a journal, it was intended to be a very special book where my young authors could collect ideas for future writings.  They could record little snippets of conversation, notes, quotations, thoughts, absolutely anything they were inspired to jot down.  The writers' notebooks would never be graded, but I did collect them from time to time to provide the kids with feedback.  I loved reading through these books.  They came in all shapes and sizes, and were as unique as the writers who owned them.

I wish I could remember more of what Frances wrote, (and said for that matter,) but one little sentence of hers has stuck with me over time.  She wrote, "I'm really enjoying my life."  She was eight years old. 

Now that I have children of my own I wonder, how does one encourage that level of self-reflection and appreciation at such a tender age?  Perhaps it's through modeling.  I trust that if we're grateful mamas, we're going to raise grateful kids.

Have a happy Mothers' Day you beautiful mamas!  

Maya

"The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears."

Hopi Indian

I think it was the great Maya Angelou who first introduced me to the idea of giving thanks when you least feel like giving thanks.  She was telling Oprah that when you're in a difficult situation, (I'm paraphrasing here,) you should thank the universe for providing you with the experience, because it is an opportunity for growth.  You may not be able to see it in the moment, but after some time passes you might recognize a lesson or gift that has come from your experience.

This is a tricky one.  When you're dealing with tragedy, loss or illness, it takes a highly evolved individual to look Pain in the face and say, "thank you."  I've met such a person, though.  I was volunteering at The Vancouver Children's Hospital to provide support for parents with sick children.  I'd take coffee, tea and baked goods to a little room where parents could meet and chat.  I was there to serve them and to visit with them if they felt like talking.  If parents didn't want to leave their child's bedside I would take food and drinks to their rooms.  Most of the time parents just wanted to make small-talk.  I once chatted with a man about the Canucks for an hour before learning that he was leaving Vancouver the next day because his son had died.   

There was one young mom I will not soon forget.  She had brightly colored hair, a few piercings, and punk clothes.  Her daughter was terminally ill and the doctors didn't expect her to ever leave the hospital.  Mother and daughter were far away from home, friends and family.   This mom had every reason to be sad, withdrawn, depressed, furious; yet she would come into the coffee room and support other parents.  She had a natural ability to boost people's spirits.  I was in awe of her.  I joked with her at one point about how she was taking over my job and she smiled.  I asked her how she did it; how she was able to stay positive and spread hope to others in the midst of such pain.  She told me that her daughter had taught her something wonderful: that she was a good mom.  No matter what her baby girl was going through, no matter how bad things got, she had found the strength to be right there beside her every step of the way.  She said it was a gift.

Imagine that.  I think Maya would have been inspired by this woman.  I certainly was.

Mother Goose

"I am thankful for laughter, 

except when milk comes out of my nose."  

Woody Allen

My husband and I decided that we would teach Pip the scientifically correct terminology for her  private parts.  There would be no 'wee-wees' or 'pee-pees' in our household; we were going to call a spade a spade right from the get-go.  For the purpose of this story, though, I'll adopt a Grey's Anatomy term and call it a 'Vajayjay'.  (Forgive me.)

One Thursday morning this past winter, the girls and I made our way to 'Mother Goose,' a wonderful local programme where pre-schoolers sing songs, hear stories and eat snacks.  It's toddler-heaven, really.  On this particular Thursday, Pip seemed unusually enthusiastic about the introduction song in which each child chooses an item of their clothing and we all sing about it: "Pip wore her grey shirt, grey shirt, grey shirt, Pip wore her grey shirt all day long."  You get the idea.

We sang about shoes, sweaters, socks and pants, then Mother Goose led us through a host of other happy little songs and, before we knew it, the class was over.  As we started to gather our coats, Pip marched up to the instructor and announced, "We forgot to sing about my black pants!"  Heaven forbid.  The ever-accommodating  Mother Goose decided to indulge Pip, so we sang a rousing verse of, "Pip wore her black pants, black pants, black pants," before heading out the door.  

During the short ride home we reminisced about the class, and as we walked in the front door of our house Pip shrieked, "Mama, do you know what we forgot?  We forgot to sing about my Vajayjay!!!"  Talk about gratitude.  I was so thankful that Mother Goose and the other goslings hadn't heard this particular song request.  Naturally, I had to tell Pip that we don't normally sing about our Vajayjays because they're private, but later I caught myself thinking that perhaps we'd all be a little bit better off if we did!

Giving thanks

"The daily practice of gratitude is one of the conduits by which 

your wealth will come to you."  

Wallace Wattles

When Pip started to talk, we began a daily prayer at dinnertime.  My husband and I don't subscribe to any organized religion, so we just made up our own little gratitude prayer and Pip repeated it after us.  "O Great Spirit, thank you for this beautiful day and thank you for this lovely food.  Peace and Love."  Short and sweet.  Big Daddy-O and I were big fans of our little prayer, but Pip quickly tired of saying the same thing every day.  

We decided to adopt a lovely ritual that friends of ours introduced to us: they simply call it, "thankful."  Now we just go around the table and talk about what we are thankful for.  I LOVE IT!  We usually start with Pip so that she isn't influenced by the things that Big Daddy-O and I say.   She is often thankful for us, or her frog, or the nice time she had playing at the park.  When my husband and I take our turns, I feel really connected to him.  The hour before dinner is often hectic, but when we give thanks we're sitting at the table, looking into each other's eyes, acknowledging how blessed we truly are.   

Morning Ritual

"Whatever we think about and thank about we bring about."

Dr. John Demartini

I read The Secret by Rhonda Byrne in August of 2007.  If you haven't read it, or watched the DVD, I highly recommend it.  One section of the book discusses the power of gratitude, and I remember being impacted by a very simple suggestion given by James Ray.  He writes, "Every morning I get up and say 'Thank you.'  Every morning, when my feet hit the floor, 'Thank you.'  And then I start running through what I'm grateful for, as I'm brushing my teeth and doing the things I do in the morning.  And I'm not just...doing some rote routine.  I'm putting it out there and I'm feeling the feelings of gratitude."

Thus far, I haven't been successful at making Ray's process a daily ritual, but I recall doing it intermittently throughout the early morning nursing sessions with my daughters.  I must admit that I have found the sleep deprivation aspect of motherhood to be the toughest adjustment of all.  I'm a woman who needs her sleep.  When my daughter's cries would wake me up and I'd look at the clock to see some ungodly hour glowing back at me with sinister, red numbers,  my first instinct was to curse, but when I remembered to say, "Thank you," instead, it made the whole experience much more tolerable.  (Yes, even at 3:12 am.)  Then, while I was nursing my baby, it was easy to feel grateful as I looked down at the precious little face at my breast.  (Provided my eyes were still open.)

I want to integrate James Ray's morning ritual into my life, so I'm really going to hit myself over the head with it!  This week's blogs will all have something to do with gratitude, and the Mama Mantra is simply, 'Thank you."   Every morning this week I vow to say, "Thank you," when my feet hit the floor.  What do you think?  Is anybody with me?

Eight Kids?

"Find what you love."

Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

We brought a cool children's  book home from the library this week: Incredible You!  10 ways to let your GREATNESS shine through, by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer.  In the introduction Dr. Dyer writes, "It is my desire to have these tiny, precious souls...close this book and feel so good about themselves that they feel in their hearts that nothing is impossible for them."  

Big Daddy-O read, Incredible You! to Pip the other night.  When I walked into the bedroom for my reading shift, they were just finishing the book.  "What did you think?"  I asked my husband as I crawled onto Pip's bed.

"I liked it.  It's really good.  Did you know this guy has eight kids?"

"No, really?"

"Check out the back cover," instructed Big Daddy-O.  Pip was lying motionless between us as I read the back jacket aloud.  Indeed Dr. Dyer has eight children.

"Can you imagine having eight kids?" I asked.  At this point, Pip finally piped up.  She had a look of concern on her face.  In a very timid voice she asked,

"He ate his kids?"  She was absolutely mortified.  Not quite the feeling that Dr. Dyer intended, but great entertainment value for us.

Sisterhood

"Unlike grown-ups, children have little need 

to deceive themselves."

J.W. Goethe

Pip is a little lovebug.  She tells us that she loves us all the time, and not just in response to my husband or me telling her that we love her.  Pip's, "I love yous," are often completely random and unsolicited.  She has also been known to say, "I'm falling in love with you, Mama," and, "Mama, I love you and all of your parts."  

Perhaps it was Pip's sweet nature that made it all the more disturbing when she looked at her sister one day and announced, "I don't love her."  

"Who is it that you don't love?" I asked, hoping that Pip was referring to Taylor Angelique, the doll that Crazybaby was currently eating.

"Crazybaby.  I don't love her."

Now, I realize that this is a perfectly normal sentiment for a three-year-old to have about her very assertive and newly-mobile one-year-old sister, but it's still just a wee bit heartbreaking.  I mean, what mother really wants to hear those words uttered?  Not this one.  

Nevertheless, I kept my cool.  I gave my husband a little, "this is interesting," wink across the table and took Pip onto my lap.  I told her that we could understand why she might feel the way she did.  I came up with a couple of, "It must be frustrating when..." scenarios, and I let her know that we thought she was doing a really good job of being a big sister.  Then I told her that I thought she would grow to love Crazybaby someday.  

"I won't Mama." Pip insisted.  So I left it alone.

I have such high hopes for my daughters' relationship, but I can't impose my expectations on them.  It is their relationship.  It will be what it will be.  My husband and I will guide them and love them and make them each feel special, but in the end it's up to them to create their sisterhood.

I'm glad that Pip was honest about her feelings.  I'm also glad that Crazybaby didn't understand a word she said!  (At least I don't think she understood.)