Finding a Tribe of my own...

How do you find your tribe in today’s society?

As I’ve been home with Finn for nearly the past two years, I have struggled with my decision to be a stay at home mamma at times, questioning the “quality vs. quantity” of time spent with my little guy, and wondering how our journey will evolve so that everyone feels completely supported and loved.  In my bones I know home with Finn is where I'm supposed to be, and don’t get me wrong, eighty-five percent of the time I spend laughing, splashing in puddles, drawing on windows and feeling gratefully blissful as I sing Finnegan to sleep at naptime…but every so often, I get kicked in the gut with impatience or frustration, and a deep loneliness and yearning overtakes me.  It has opened me to reflection on how I want to grow on this journey. 

One thing that has struck me very recently, is the lack of a tribe in my life.  The village it takes to raise a child is comprised of Reid and me.  While we are the best team I know of, it sometimes doesn’t protect me from that loneliness of physical isolation.  Part of it is simply being in a new community, finding my small place on an Alaskan island.  Part of me wonders if it’s just society today.  We are raised so independently, and have such autonomy over our own lives, but perhaps that comes at a rather lonely cost at times.  Many of us no longer have aunties and grandmas close by to help give advice and encouragement, simply by their physical presence.  To want to be with and see our kiddos, for those indulgent breaks from parenting before we feel overwhelmed and need that break to take time for own sanity.   Time away from Finn scheduled after I’ve felt overwhelmed somehow carries a twinge of guilt for me.  

Over the holidays, hosting guests in our home, I was struck at how heart warming and encouraging it is to see other people love on your kid.  That seeing others experiencing joy out of being around Finn was one of the most nourishing things for me to experience as a mother.  To witness the effect he has on people close to us.  It also made me realize that those experiences are very rare, for we simply don’t live around family. 
 

This year, I am deciding to find ways to nourish and support my tribe.  For Finnegan, for me, for our family.  To engage the tribe that I do have around me, just not physically.  It will have to be unorthodox, and I will have to get creative.  Three aunties, three uncles, and three grandparents, all living afar.  Two best friends who live afar.  A new community filled with some of the best people and mamas.   An amazing extended family who I sometimes feel I barely know, yet love to death.  This will be my journey of the year.  

I want to connect.  

I’m kicking if off by spending a quarter of a year with my parents in Salcha.  While Reid finishes his Ph.D, something that will be great for his soul and sanity, I’ll be hanging with grandma and grandpa, as well as doing a little theatre.  I’m curious and excited to see how we find ways to incorporate family, our whole family, into our everyday lives.  That is, perhaps, my New Year’s resolution.  Perhaps it will be through handwritten letters exchanged.  Or collaborative Skype calls with the whole family.  Or more scheduled vacations just hanging with family.  Or elaborate, extensive family reunions…I’m up for it all.   Let’s start a conversation about it, at the very least.  I want my mommies (both Reid’s and mine!) and sisters.  I know we get on each others nerves half the time, but I’m really wishing we could all be on the same block.  As that is impossible, we’ll have to get creative.  I’m open to suggestions as to how anyone reading this might foster that sense of “tribe” in their lives.

My Absolute Favorite Times of the Day...

    Finnegan is not a particular cuddle bug.  He always has me in sight, and he will light up the world from across the room with his sideways grin, but he likes to be off on his own, exploring, watching.  He has a corner of the couch that he naps on, with an old stuffed dog with one eye named Wizard from my childhood, my version of the Velveteen Rabbit, and a quilt made by an old friend of my mother's, Miss Flo, who he never got to meet before she passed away.  Usually I take this moment to read, or sit with a cup of tea, or meditate.  I cuddle up on the other corner with my quilt, giving him his space to move, and just watch his beautiful face, peaceful.  It gives me hope and faith in the universe, that I am exactly where I need to be at that moment, and all is well in the world. 
   He'll nap for exactly an hour and a half, and start to stir.  He'll roll over, peek up, and then put his head back down for a few seconds.  He'll groggily sit up, eyes glazed, and peer around the room for me.  Then his eyes will meet mine, and I'll get that sideways smile.  I'll hold out my arms, and he'll crawl over to me, nestle in, and nap for about fifteen more minutes.  These are the most treasured fifteen minutes of my day, along with the song I sing to him as he's falling asleep in my arms before he goes to bed for the night, a song by the Wailin' Jennys called Arlington:

Where do you go little bird, when it snows, when it snows

When the world turns to sleep, do you know, do you know?

Is it something in the wind, breathes a chill in your heart, and life in your wings?

Does it whisper start again, start again?

Where is the sun in the night?  Is it cold, is it cold?

Does it feel left behind, all alone, all alone?

Does it wander through the night, does it wait for the dawn, wish on a star?

Does it stray very far, very far? 

         In these moments, I find the answer to the elusive meaning of existence.  Perhaps it comes easily to others, and yes, I've heard it over and over again: love.  But to actually feel it, all bundled up with the opposing feelings of such intense hope, fear, longing, and contentment in those moments is nothing shy of remarkable.  I love you, little boy.

 

The Evolution of a Journey....

    I never knew if I would be a good stay at home mother.  I never really knew if I would be a good mother, period.  Many people, family and friends had a lot more faith in my hypothetical abilities than I ever did.  When Reid and I decided to take the huge leap of faith into parenthood, we chatted about what I would do, work or stay.  I had just completed a Master's degree in Education, was certified to teach Theatre, Biology, and Elementary school, and was at the very beginning of a promising career.  The general consensus was to give it a shot, stay flexible, and see how it went.

    The first evolution of this journey to stay home with wee Finnegan was seeing if I could keep him alive for any length of time.  This tiny bundle, who couldn't even hold his head up, couldn't focus his eyes to things more than a few feet away, and totally dependent.  It really gave me something to focus on, everything was a blur, especially with initial nursing woes.  I counted days in three hour increments to the next nursing session.  I couldn't think too much about anything because I was so focused on solving the breastfeeding dilemma, changing, rocking, adjusting to this new, mostly wonderful, but extremely difficult existence.

    The second big evolution came when Finn started moving independently.  This brought such new fear and insight into my views of myself as a mother.  Some days it seemed as though we would just get by, narrowly dodging one near death experience after another.  But, what was more of a challenge, and the biggest one so far, was how to keep this little being engaged and entertained aaalllll day, while keeping my sanity.  The days that didn't go so well, I plunged into wondering if this had been a good idea.  I heard all the voices of people I knew saying, "You're going to be such a fabulous mom, you're so creative!" and I felt as though I was failing.  Some days I was just too exhausted to think of things for him to do.  He would get, it seemed, bored, or frustrated, and start being an inquisitive boy....which would take the form of digging into houseplants or the toilet or  heater...my attitude would shift for the worse, and it went downhill from there.  Reid would come home, I'd be totally burnt out, and he would let me go play piano or hike for an hour to recharge.  It was this part of the journey where I really questioned whether staying at home was right for me...perhaps being around the same individual too much was not that great a thing.  Perhaps going back to work, getting a nanny or sitter, would be better: I'd be happier, knowing that I was doing a good job at a job with very defined objectives, I could come home and be totally energized because I had missed Finn all day, and be ready to play for a few hours before bed time.  Quality may trump quantity, right?  Still, this felt, to me, as the easier way out, and I plunged into self doubt and insecurities as an engaging, creative, energetic parent.  If I'm honest, at its worst, I thought it might be better if Reid find someone else who could be a better mother for Finn.

    Hmmm....

    As I hit this bottom, and spent more than a few days really questioning what the hell I had gotten myself into, and where I was to go from here, something just recently started evolving from it.  I started finding those creative ways to engage and entertain both Finn and I, slowly, almost out of emotional necessity for survival...and I believe, it was only by sticking through this seemingly bottomless pit of self doubt, that I was able to come out of it.  I started being able to notice subtle nuances of when he seemed able to entertain himself, how it sounded when he was starting to need a little extra stimulation, and almost intuitively, start to become that mother I wanted to be.  I still have such a long way to go, but I feel this heavy cloud lifting.  By sticking to this commitment I made to stay at home with him, and pushing through what has been the hardest part so far, because it was dealing with MY issues, not his behavior challenges, I am starting to see the light.  And I would never had seen the glimmer if I wasn't in the darkness, so I have to be thankful for that.  This has been my journey of staying at home; messy, glorious, dark, frustrating, and very beautiful.  By engaging in it, and committing to it, I feel in my bones that it is the right choice for my family, and me.

    In the end, being a mother has been, without a doubt, the hardest thing, I have ever done. It has made me question our existence, ponder the state of the world and humanity, at times quite morosely, and question if I was really ever meant to fill such a large role. In the same moment, it has offered me glimpses of such profound hope and love that I could do nothing but cry. It has filled me with gratitude for the souls that we are lent for the short time we are here. I still am not close to having some of the answers I seek, but I will not, can not, stop seeking those answers. Being a mother has awakened that quest in me, and I am thankful for that.

 

 

The Days...

It feels like some days the energy is buzzing with love in my home...Finn is smiling and giggling, I am almost (and sometimes literally) dancing around doing the housework, and then I look around, the sun is shining through the windows, an upbeat bluegrass station is playing on Pandora, the house is clean, everyone is happy, and there is time and weather to take it outside for a hike or play with chickens.  These days are amazing. Adventure is to be found everywhere, and the Restless Spirit is, for the moment, completely content.

Then there are days where I feel as though I'm barely staying caught up, and days where I'm simply NOT at all.  Where frustration is pretty prevalent, blood pressure is a little higher, and the Restless Spirit is having a tough time in the midst of Domestic Monotony...there is a lot of resetting, deep breaths, and mantra repeating.

I'm trying to meditate and ponder on what makes these days different.  What is it that contributes to the down days, and what can I do to at least ride out the lulls, if not completely jump out of it and into a more cheerful disposition.  For Reid's and Finn's sake, at the very least.  I haven't come up with an explanation on what contributes to the lulls, I'm sure it's any number of things: lack of sleep, the latest bug going around, Mercury Retrograde, gloomy weather, hearing someone being mean or judgmental to anyone, etc...sometimes we are all just out of sync.  Nothing else really, just off timing.  Like three watches ticking away at different intervals on different wavelengths, with three people trying to catch up to the other one.  Nothing to be done but accept it, laugh about it, and move on.  I wish there was a day time reality TV show that showed "A Day in the Life" of mothers these days.  How they manage it all, and get through the "out of sync" days.  I would totally get in to a show like that.  Real Housewives isn't cutting it for me.  Most days we do one episode of Andy Griffith, my hero, and listen to Pandora the rest of the time we're inside.  There is something so blissfully simple, so innocent and good, about The Andy Griffith Show, that just has me in love with everyone...nostalgia is a powerful thing, but I digress...

So, a few of the things that really help me kind of snap out of it, and I'd love to hear any others you may have, are:

• Dancing, dancing, dancing.  This is the cure all for me.  I put on Micheal Franti or Tom Petty on Pandora, and let go.

• Finn usually nurses to nap, and is pretty easy about letting me move him to his corner of the couch to finish sleeping after he's done.  If I'm having a rough day, though, I will just let him sleep in my arms for as long as I can, just studying his little face.  This is another cure all for the Messy House Blues.  It gets me back to the present moment, and what's really important.

• A few pages of Calvin and Hobbes.  Again, nostalgia is working in my favor here.  As a kid, I used to find a little of myself in both Calvin and Hobbes.  Now, I totally see myself as his mom.  But this comic really calls my attention to the vastly different world of children, and allows me to be more empathetic with Finn if he's the one having a bad day.  And I know what he's doing all day.  I can't imagine putting this into perspective when he goes to school... 

•  Meditation, or prayer.  I love the saying that praying is how we talk to God, and meditation is how we listen to him in the silence.  A combination of these two work wonderfully for me.

• Getting outside.  Even if it's putting on full rain gear and standing in a storm in the driveway for five minutes.  There is something deeply cathartic about nature.

Just a few things that work for me.  I was chatting with a girlfriend today, thinking that I'd been at this parenting endeavor for over a year now, some days I feel like I should have a better handle on it.  She assured me this isn't the case.  So for any of you feeling the same way, you are not alone.  And I keep repeating the mantra...love.  It's all about love.  If you genuinely want the best for your child, and are doing the best you can, that's all that can be expected of you.  The rest is just details.  And enjoying those dancing-love-buzz days when they alight upon you magically.