Connecting With Children (It Doesn’t Have To Be Awkward)

It use to be awkward for me to speak or connect with children.

I would ask them the customary questions: How old are you? What grade are you in? What’s your favorite subject? What do you want to be when you grow up?

(Kinda similar to how I use to talk to adults actually: What do you do? How’s the weather? Time flies huh?)

You know, the kind of questions that you don’t really listen for the answers.

But then I started meeting children who liked to make up their their own age (or name), who didn’t go to school, and who demanded (not with words but with their very presence and the way they experienced life) a whole new kind of interaction.

And it was awkward at first.

I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. It was uncomfortable to be alone with a child I wasn’t related to because there was an expectation of interaction that I didn’t know how to handle (compared to the idea that we don’t have to interact quite as much with children we do know – ack!).

I was realizing today how different that is for me now.

I woke up this morning and immediately upon noticing there was actual SUNSHINE I grabbed my yoga mat and headed out the RV door. I intended to salute the sun all proper like. ;)

We’re camped with our caravan and sitting outside next door was my new friend, whom I call Little Turtle, for we both are learning a lot about our own personal turtle shells. As we greeted I did what I would do with any friend…

I invited her to do yoga by the pond with me.

She grabbed her mat, her brother even came along for a few minutes before he decided he had better things to do, and the two of us saluted the sun together.

The hubby couldn't make yoga this AM but my new friend, Little Turtle, could. <3

Then we laid by the water and just spent time together.

In my past I would’ve felt compelled to ask questions or mentor her in some way (oh the ego!). I would’ve had a different tone in my voice and a direction I felt we should take it (educational no doubt).

But our time together was casual and comfortable instead.

We talked about the water and our favorite colors, and Googled on my phone what different colors mean (she’s all about the happy, creative colors!). We wondered about the weird animal sounds we heard and talked about brothers.

The generations between us didn’t matter. We were just able to BE together, as friends.

And this makes me really happy. I have friends of so many ages and backgrounds and beliefs. And for years I missed out on what these young and wonderful friends bring to my world.

Like the enjoyment of sitting and watching the bugs skimming the surface of the water.

Peering over the deck

Last night Justin and one of the kids went off to a juggling meetup. An hour driving together, several hours juggling with other adults, and an hour back. As friends. Right now he has a 10 year old friend helping him work on the engine as they talk more about juggling. As friends.

It just makes me smile.

And being authentic has also become easier. Zeb and his new friend (and Little Turtle’s brother) were playing in the RV and I needed to get some work done. They were having fun and talking and I was struggling with overwhelm and feeling distracted.

So I reached out in kindness. “Hey guys, would it be okay if I had the RV to myself for awhile? I’ve got so much work to do.”

“Sure Mom.” “Sure Tara.” And they finished up their game, asked when I thought I’d be done and headed outside with a smile.

In the past I would’ve resorted to demanding they go outside, or just internally huffing and puffing over how I never get what I need until I became resentful. I never would’ve thought I could’ve spoken to them about it in the same way I would speak to my husband. It would’ve been control or martyrdom for me.

I’ve missed out on a lot of time with these incredible friends, especially the incredible friend I have in my 12 year old son. There were lots of things I had to DIG IN to in order to release my own discomfort and fear and superiority: like the emotions or reactions that would come up for me, the old stories about permissiveness, and the kind of connections I really wanted in my life and what had me settling for less.

But most importantly the idea I had learned that only people of the same ages could have real and meaningful friendships together and that adults were meant to lead children, not simply enjoy their presence.

My Belly Feels Empty, But My Heart is Full

We’re officially one week into our elimination diet and the biggest challenge is probably boredom. With so few foods and flavors to choose from it’s annoying more than anything else.

I’ve also struggled with hypoglycemia and woke up yesterday with too low blood sugar, almost passing out and taking several hours to recover. Not good.

So I’m adding in salmon on intuition and am feeling better now. (Justin is going to continue going without for awhile longer.)

We have had so many questions on the elimination diet and how to do it and I think it can pretty much all be boiled down to this:

Listen to your body. Trust it.

Every body is different, and each individual’s needs will vary throughout their life too.

Food dogma is bullshit. Intuition is king.

We chose this elimination diet on intuition. We choose to follow it how our intuition guides us.

And the more we do that, the better we feel.

Heart = Full

Feels myself howling at this one.
Happy Full Moon :)

Even though we’ve been learning how to fill our bellies, my heart right now is expanding like WHOA.

The past few months have been rough for us, and we’ve been consistently pulled back to look for the cause and the shifting Life is asking us to make.

Zeb has been really struggling.

Really struggling.

He’s 12.5 now and becoming a man, not as smoothly as we had hoped (ah, those parental ideas – that’s a whole story in itself).

It hasn’t been fun to say the least.

It’s been hard.

And Justin and I have been triggered a lot.

And individually and together we’ve had some really bad moments that suck suck suck.

But thankfully we leaned into our tribes and our tools and we kept coming back, kept making amends for the mistakes, kept putting our intentions and our heart into finding what’s missing for all of us, what each of us needs to thrive.

We kept coming back to the drawing board again and again.

Until we finally had the Aha moment. The breakthrough.

In a few heart-wrenching, emotional and deeply connecting conversations Zeb articulated what was happening beneath the surface for him.

Beneath the anger and the frustration and the blah and the rut.

He’s lonely.

He enjoys traveling, but it’s not filling his cup with a Tribe of his own.

He wants more than Mom and Dad.

Going back to Vegas was a wonderful thing for him. But it was only temporary.

And he struggles to connect with people as we travel. He can feel awkward and uncomfortable until he warms up – like we all experience at some point. And so as we go along he feels withdrawn more than he’d like to without that extra time to settle into a comfortable place with people. By the time he’s forming a connection, either we or the other family is heading off.

Can I tell you what a GIANT sigh of relief it is to finally hear this from him?

For a long time he couldn’t put his finger on it. Even when we would check in with him about it, he wasn’t fully aware of it.

It can be hard as a kid (heck, for most adults too) to see with clarity what is really happening inside.

He needs community.

And we have been feeling that same need ourselves.

Zeb needs guys to hang with, to run with, to laugh with, to grow with.

Justin needs men to connect with, to sit with, to feel like himself with.

I need women to hug with, to walk with, to celebrate with, to dance with.

We also want to continue to travel!

So we talked and drew out our ideas.

We discussed traveling one more year to see the East coast, then settling down so Zeb could try out a Sudbury School.

But one year felt like a long time to wait.

Then a beautiful traveling family, Angela and Clint and their 3 kids, invited us to their budding caravan, but they were headed to the West coast and had plenty of big plans and it just didn’t seem like the pieces would fit.

The idea of not joining them had me bummed.

I resonated so strongly with the families that were already gathering around the idea. I loved the moments I had been able to grab here and there with them – at the first Full Moon feast in January, at a FOTR rally, even through email when we could.

But I’ve learned enough in my 30 years to not try to force anything. That it never works best that way. That things either happen organically or they don’t happen all that well.

So I stressed a little. And let go a little. And leaned into Trust a little.

And tried to remind myself that when we plant the seeds of our intentions, Life/Spirit/magic happens.

And it did.

Not pictured: Drumming papas, belly dancing mamas, galavanting kiddos, great convo, tears and laughter.
Around the Fire

Angela and Clint invited us again to another full moon feast – a monthly gathering of traveling and non-traveling families and friends to eat, talk, connect, make music and make even more laughter.

We couldn’t camp with them, but we drove 45 minutes to visit for the evening.

Zeb ran off with the kids.

Justin drummed with the men.

I connected with the women.

Fire dancing mamas!
Fire dancing mamas!

We felt at home.

And my heart ached a little to know it would only last an evening this time.

And then I heard the most beautiful thing I could imagine.

And it’s bringing tears to my eyes to write it out.

Angela explained how their plans had shifted. How they aren’t heading to the West coast. How they are traveling up the East coast this year. Exactly to the place we wanted to most see.

Inside my heart jumped a little.

Said a tiny Eep!

Goosebumps. And tears. And hugs. And laughing. And “See?”

She and I knowing and seeing (again) that Trust always leads us in the most beautiful direction.

That everyone’s needs – for connection, for adventure, for timing – will always be met.

That this was the beginning of a beautiful thing.

Zeb is on board. Wholeheartedly. Can’t wait.

Justin’s feeling it out, has some hesitation to examine, some things to sit with internally. But I can trust fully the right pieces will fall into the right place and at the right time now.

And my heart is filled to the brim with the idea of having our own tiny, traveling village of mindful parents, and passionate women, and strong, gentle men and confident children, and entrepreneurs, and autodidacts, and diversity, and laughter.

We have details to work out, and schedules to coordinate, and plans to create.

After all, this isn’t JUST a caravan they’re planning – it’s bigger than that. And I can’t wait to share it. :)

But right now I’m just happy to share my heart and my soul and my answered prayers and the smile and excitement of my previously sullen 12 year old whose cup is finally being filled.

And to share this little reminder: Lean into Trust. Life is good.

Being a Parent vs. Being a “Friend”

I was recently asked this question by a girlfriend on Facebook, about my take on whether parents should be friends of their kids.

Tara and Zeb

The Comment/Question

Tara – Here’s a thought I’ve had. I’ve been in a lot of discussions about parenting that include those who view “being your child’s friend” as a very negative thing – “be a parent, not a friend”. I really feel like there’s this false dichotomy between having a good relationship or teaching/guiding them – like they are mutually exclusive. The “be a parent” crowd assumes that if we are focusing on maintaining a close, connected relationship, it means that the kids just do whatever they want and have no respect. What if being a friend and parent weren’t mutally exclusive? I would love your take on this. – Cindy from www.birth-smart.com

My Answer

I would ask them who the heck their friends are and why they have such a low idea of what real friendship is. ;)

In my world, a friend is someone who loves me compassionately, who sees my worth when I may not see it, who listens deeply and never encourages me to do less than I’m capable of doing, nor do they support my actions if those actions are hurting me or others.

A real friend brings out the best in me with love and laughter and support.

So who the heck have they been hanging out with that isn’t all those things? And why wouldn’t we want to be those things to our child? :)

And I want to add:

Maybe if more kids were used to seeing this kind of love and support from their parents they wouldn’t be accepting anything less in their friends.

What is your take on the parent/friend conversation?

And just because I can, I want to share a video I created that reminds me just how quickly it passes, just how much we should cherish the tender moments and just how much we miss out on when we’re more concerned with how we’ll look as parents, instead of the moments of connection we’re capturing with our kids.

The If/Then Syndrome and Unconditionality

One Of Us - Storypeople

There’s an epidemic that has infiltrated our culture. It creeps in to families and relationships and make us all sick. Sick of each other, really.

It’s the If/Then Syndrome, sometimes referred to as the When/Then Syndrome. And it gets us all at some point. It’s that tit for tat behavior that we all loathe, and yet it’s just as much a part of us as we feel it is of anyone else. Some examples of its symptoms:

  • If she’s going to be rude to her kids, then I’m going to tell her off.
  • If he’s gonna yell at me, then I’m gonna yell back.
  • When you act nice to me, then I’ll act kind in return.
  • When you help me with the chores, then I’ll pay you.
  • But if you don’t help me, then I’ll be moody and passive-aggressive.
  • When he apologizes, then I’ll stop giving him the cold shoulder.
  • If she cheats on me, then I’ll cheat on her.

Truly, it’s all equal and it’s all pretty immature thinking. But the most mature among us fall victim to it. We apply it to our parenting, our partners, and our friendships.

It’s not entirely our fault. It’s the culture we live in, one based on rewards and punishments. We feel that every action must be met with an equal (or greater) reaction. We give kids grades based on their performance, allowance based on their contributions, attention based on their behavior. We give our spouses snide comments or biting retorts. We give others parents pointed looks, or offer hurtful, harsh remarks. And we say (and truly feel) that things won’t change unless we do these things.

We’re a culture of human reactors.

I’ve just realized I do it all the time. If Justin isn’t helping out, I am moody or unhelpful in return. If Zeb is cranky, I act cranky right back. It’s stupid, really because here’s the thing:

I need to be Who I Am, not because of anyone else, but because it’s who I want to be.

I want to be the kind, patient, compassionate mother, not to get a particular behavior from my son, but because I want to be that mother.

I want to be the generous, loving wife, not to get something from my husband, but because that’s the lover I want to be.

And what does it say about ourselves otherwise?

We expect kids and adults to “take responsibility” for their own actions and we don’t allow them to use others as a scapegoat for their own behavior. Then we yell, punish, criticize, humiliate, embarrass, lose our tempers or our patience and we say it’s because of something they did. We say it’s because we have to make a difference, because they need to change, because of some outcome if we don’t.

Bullshit.

It’s not because of what they do; it’s because of something we do. We base our actions off our expectations, instead of our intent. We sacrificed who we want to be because they aren’t being who we think they should be. And when we didn’t get what we wanted (and how often does coercion really result in real cooperation anyway?) we responded with something akin to a temper tantrum.

How can we possibly expect our children to do something we ourselves can’t master?

This is what unconditional love is about: That we continue to love a person in the same exact way regardless of whether they are being kind or mean, helpful or disruptive, quiet or loud, thoughtful or inconsiderate, joyful or short-tempered, patient or rude.

Anything less is not unconditional love. It’s fair-weather friendship, it’s the parent who isn’t there when their child is hurting, the partner who leaves you feeling alone. And if love is not unconditional, we’d better not call is love at all.

Over the past few weeks, with engine problems and stress pouring out of our ears, I’ve been told by nearly everyone that it all happens for a reason; it all works out for the greater good, that we are exactly where we need to be. It’s so easy to apply that principle to things like dead batteries or a long pause in your plans. But why don’t we apply the same principle to our relationships?

If we truly believe we are exactly where we need to be in tough times, that there are no accidents, and that it all happens for a reason, how can we try to change someone at all? Every mood, every attitude, every hurtful or kind word, every helpful or hindering action from our children, spouses, friends or loved ones is exactly where and what it needs to be.

It’s all good, even the messy, the hurtful, the disruptive. It’s all opportunity, experience, chances for understanding, an occasion for contrast, a space in which to learn. Not just for them, maybe not for them at all. Maybe it’s just there for us.

There is always a bigger picture to view. We get all caught up in the details of the moment, the stories we tell ourselves, without ever remembering one of the most important reasons for the moment, for life at all: Growth.

And only by meeting people where they are and accepting them for who they are in that very moment while remaining who we want to be, do we give anyone the opportunity to grow. Only by being the person we want to be can we allow others to be who they are, as well. Only by accepting ourselves as imperfect first, can others accept their own imperfections.

Only through unconditional love and compassion can anything be okay.

State Line Shuffle

We seem to have acquired a habit on the road. Every day we’re scheduled to cross a state line we tend to do a deep clean, from top to bottom. We’ve termed it The State Line Shuffle. :)

Thankfully, this shuffling takes us about 30 minutes. In that time we (and by we I usually mean I) put away toys, books, computers or other things, sort clothes that need to be washed at our next location, and rehang or refold the rest. Then we (I) grab a rag and the spray bottle and wash down the fingerprints that have graced our walls, clean up the sinks, wipe down the shower and clean the toilet. Then I sweep and hand-mop the floor with a second rag. Justin then takes that second rag and the spray bottle to wash the bugs off the windows. We may or may not throw the fridge somewhere in there for good measure.

We don’t always do it at the state line, but Justin is threatening to drive us across the border every week anyway.

View From Here-Lousiana Storm Clouds
My view from Louisiana

We’re now in Louisiana, in a little town called Keatchie (pronounced key-chie), about an hour south of Shreveport. So small in fact, they don’t even have their own grocery store!

It’s beautiful and quiet and the serenity feels so good. But it’s lonely not feeling connected to a tribe. I’m making the most of what it is but I’m looking forward to driving into New Orleans and Baton Rouge and meeting new people and finding friends.

In the meantime we’re hooping, playing games, watching movies, playing online and relaxing. Zeb is hoping to do some fishing in the neighbor’s pond soon and Justin is excited to have found a boatload of free veg oil for the RV. Next weekend we’ll be celebrating with the locals at the annual crawfish festival.

But for now we’re just trying to stay connected to each other as Justin attempts to go back to work and we attempt to find a tribe.

So, tell me tribe, how’s your weekend going?