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.

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.

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.

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?

Kristin and I were best friends from elementary school through her graduation. Even after her family moved away in middle school, I would fly to Texas, then Florida, to visit her over the summer. I have so many fun memories of our times together: walking down Harmon Hill after school, prank calling the radio station (we really wanted to hear that song!), talking about boys and laughing over nothing funny.

Things weren’t always beautiful between us, though. I often felt a lot of (probably imagined) judgment from her family. They were very conservative and traditional and…well, we never have been. I even vaguely remember being referred to as a “bad influence” on my dear beloved friend. When I became a teenage mother that feeling became very acute.

The last time we saw each other was almost exactly 10 years ago, the June before Zeb’s first birthday. I had flown to Florida to attend her graduation, as we had promised to do at the age of 13. I was in a strange place in my life, struggling with depression and a real disconnection from Self. I was in a relationship I had yet to realize was doomed and on the precipice of major life changes I couldn’t have anticipated. It was a tumultuous time of change for me to say the least and I was desperate to feel that familiar sense of belonging within our friendship.

Instead I felt slightly outcast being put up with a stranger, and out of sync as I tried unsuccessfully to meld into her circle of friends and family. Our relationship was obviously strained. We had grown into two very different people from two very different walks of life and we struggled to bridge that gap. I flew away from that trip brokenhearted over losing a friend and floundering without that connection.

I know now that change is inevitable, that people grow – sometimes together and sometimes apart – and that all of this is okay. I also understand that my emotions and perceptions shaped my reality in ways that weren’t always true. And when we found each other again online (the internet is a beautiful thing) many of our questions were answered and our feelings understood.

But none of this stopped me from feeling a bit nervous for seeing this dear old friend of mine this weekend, meeting her husband and her son and bridging something long ago lost.

I listened to her talk and recalled with love her voice, her tone, and the strong, fearless nature of the soul I knew and still saw within her. I watched her as she interacted with her child and marveled how two little girls like us could become mothers ourselves. I saw her as she smiled at her sweet Southern man and rejoiced that her life was filled with love.

I’ve often missed the friendship she and I shared and have yet to find that in another. And as I looked upon our vastly different personalities, upbringings and beliefs, I can’t help but wonder if I too often seek out similarities. Were we friends because of or despite our differences or was it simply because of our classroom placement?

I don’t know. Nor do I know if this weekend or any weekends to come will rebuild that bond we once shared.

What I do know is that I have been forever blessed to have shared such a deep and meaningful friendship with such a beautiful, resilient and authentic soul as she. And regardless of where we are or where we’re heading, I’m blessed to still call her my friend.

Meet the folks:

This is Chris. He’s the man around here and passionate about sustainability and Real Foods. He’s kind and extremely generous, as well as patient as he answers our endless questions and teaches us whatever we request. He’s also a *phenomenal* guitar player. Seriously. He’s been fun to work with and learn from and even more fun to chat with or just hang around.

This is Erin and Yuli, both WWOOFers on the farm.

Erin is visiting from Minnesota. She’s quiet, except on nights like tonight when we’re all cooking homemade pizza and making homemade ice cream and she starts joking around. Then her funny and goofy side shine through, complimenting her kind and helpful nature nicely.

Yuli is from Peru and just left the farm. She only speaks a little English, although she understands quiet a bit. She’s so tender and loving with the animals, not to mention goodhearted and kind. She was also very patient as she taught me a little Spanish. She was so charming and beautiful that simply being around her has convinced me to learn Spanish, instead of Italian.

This is Eliza and her big brother, Scotty. They are Chris’ unschooling kids and Zeb’s newest friends. Eliza is a few years younger than Zeb but they have a lot of common gaming interests, which has made them fast friends. Scotty is only a little younger than Zeb and loves anything with gears. It’s so cool watching the different interests diverge. Or to watch them all playing a game one moment and running out to play with the goats the next.

And because I just can’t contain myself, this is the mama cow, Rena, and her new calf, Stickers (named after the sticker bush her mama birthed her into). Zeb is still a bit amazed to have watched this spectacular event. So are we.

There are, of course, dozens of other animals on the farm: goats and kids, sheep and lambs, other cows and a calf, insanely annoying geese, ducks who tag along behind the geese like social outcasts trying to keep up, dozens of chickens and roosters, mean turkeys, rabbits, fish, pigs…

It’s a regular madhouse around here!

Saying goodbye to the Life Learners just plain sucked. We’ve been with our local unschooling group for three years and although it’s members have come and gone, it’s still our place of refuge. Our entire week revolves around Wednesday when we pack our things and spend half our day at the park. What may look like play or relaxation is really so much more. It’s our community.

Multi-age, dual-gender, parents invited Life Learner sleepover.

For Zeb, it’s a menagerie of friends from toddling babes to teenagers. It’s a safe place to be goofy, express a new interest or play with a 4 year old without fear of judgment. It’s his opportunity to try on new “hats” within the embrace of people who will still accept him after a bad day or bad choice. Over the years the Life Learners have given him the liberty to deschool on his own terms, to dye his hair blue, to shun the group and come back again. They’ve introduced him to multi-aged dynamics and authentic interactions with both genders, as well as new favorite games and interests. My heart warms when I see that he’s touched their lives as much as they’ve touched his.

Big hugs for smaller friends.

For me, the Life Learners have been my world. I remember my own trepidation in joining, still feeling unsure about my place in it all. We arrived at the park and were welcomed with open arms. I sat quietly taking it all in: the happy kids opening their tribe to Zeb, the tender interactions between child and adult, and possibly most importantly, the community the parents had made with each other. I had never seen anything like it and it was such an inspiration. Fast forward three years, and even as the group moderator, I still rely on them for my weekly dose of recharge. Being around parents all striving for what we strive for ourselves – a better way to do things, a respectful relationship built on trust, a fun and joyful life experience – it changes your life. I can’t imagine parenting without such a community anymore.

It’s always a beautiful day with friends.

Validation, love, laughter, good conversation…and especially acceptance. The feeling of complete and loving acceptance. It’s unlike anything else. Only by being accepted for Who You Are in this exact moment can you be inspired to want to grow or learn. The Life Learners gave us that. A safe place to Be as we Become.

Just some of the Life Learners we are blessed to call friends.

As we were leaving our last park day today I insisted I wasn’t going to cry. But just as I turned my back I changed my mind. It’s hard to let go of such a safe place and such beautiful people. Zeb and I drove home hand-in-hand with breaking hearts as we talked about our favorite Life Learner memories, each one of our beloved friends and how great it would be if they would just travel with us.

Another big round of goodbyes yesterday. My mom threw us a Bon Voyage party and it was wonderful to spend the day with family and friends (especially when the Life Learners hang out late, as we always do).

There were so many hiccups in the plans, it began to feel as if it simply weren’t going to happen. But I managed to only need one deep breath before I could let go of the expectations of perfection. Family in the hospital, sick babies and plenty of rain. But it was all so great to eat (the coolest cake ever!) and chat and take photos with the people we love.

Photo Credit: Sara Janssen

My parents gifted Justin with a GPS! He is super excited and has loved directing me to every location we already know. It’s going to be very helpful in finding nearby Chinese restaurants when we need a fill-up!

They also gave us a travel journal. Everyone signed their well wishes and we intend to take it with us to collect the words of everyone we meet.

We still have odds and ends to finish up in the next few days and a giant Life Learners sleepover to plan for Tuesday. This certainly wasn’t the last of our goodbyes since we’re definitely not leaving on Monday. It looks like Wednesday or Thursday now.

Our first stop will be Tracey’s home in Phoenix to visit and play. Then Albuquerque…a very cool unschooling family is allowing us to intern on their organic farm! Fun!!

Friday was a grand, grand day. That’s because it marked the 11th hour completion of Benny’s straight veggie oil conversion! Our greened-out RV now runs on waste vegetable oil, available for free from neighborhood restaurants and we couldn’t be more ecstatic.

Justin has been working with Matt Janssen on the conversion, learning tons and having a blast. It took much longer than any of us anticipated but it was well worth the wait. Not only should we be able to acquire the grease for free, but it feels good burning something that could otherwise go to waste, as well as something that creates less carbon than regular diesel. (I’ll save the knitty-gritty details of the conversion for Justin to blog as soon as he’s caught up on sleep and decompressed from the craziness a bit.)

It’s amazing how Joy can pour out of you – after hearing the news that the RV was running, and as I’m driving down the freeway with a giant grin on my face, I realized what this conversion symbolized for me.

Freedom! NOW it feels real!

And as soon as I realized This Is It I found myself with tears streaming down my face as I laughed and laughed and laughed. This is what Joy feels like; this is Freedom at it’s best! Who knew it would smell like Kung Pow Chicken?!

We’ve thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with Sara and Matt and their girls throughout the month. They joined us for our unschooling park days, brought us dinner while we packed and even stayed around for our farewell party today. Sara even video toured the RV! Matt and Justin and Sara and I are so much alike in so many ways; it made for some amazing connections that we can only hope to develop more in the future. We had a blast and can’t wait to see them again on the road (if everything works according to plan, Sara and I may be planning something very cool, very soon).

There’s some other really, super cool news to go along with all this grease, but I’ll have to save that for Justin to share as well.

One of my closest friends is also the mom of one of Zeb’s closest friends and when we went to pick Zeb up from their sleepover, we did our best to say goodbye to Elizabeth before she heads out of town tomorrow. She was one of the first real-life unschooling moms I met and her gentle, affirming interactions with her son helped propel my embrace of unschooling. She is an amazing, open and authentic person and her approach to life is so mindful and inspiring. She is always the person I call when I need someone to truly hear me but she has an amazing way of helping me see things clearer, as well. Never judgmental, always thoughtful and always in my heart. I love you, Elizabeth.

Then we got news that Zeb’s very best friend won’t be able to see Zeb before we go. It broke my heart to tell Zeb and it crushed him when I couldn’t offer an explanation. His friend will be sorely missed.

Then it was time to send off my grandparents. They have a one-way ticket and their sister’s estate to care for and as much as we all wish Death could work around our schedules, it’s never quite that convenient. While we are hoping to remain in Vegas until they return, we didn’t want to risk missing them and so we helped send them off tonight. It was very difficult to feel rushed; my grandma and I held each other for as long as we could hold back tears. I can’t describe how difficult it is to feel as if I’m losing any time with them at all and yet not have the time I’d like to really say goodbye see you soon.

The goodbyes are the worst part and this is only the beginning. Justin has a breakfast date with his dad tomorrow, we still have a going away party on Saturday and we’re planning a Life Learner sleepover on Sunday. I’m sure every one of those events will be difficult in its own way.

I’m so ready to leave Las Vegas, I just don’t know how to leave the people I love.

It wasn’t all sad news today, however. Justin received the veggie oil tank a day early and they will begin the final steps of the install tomorrow (if only he had time to keep up with his blog!). I got a wonderful, albeit also bittersweet, email from a friend and former client whom I hope to see this weekend (why we were never closer or found more time to hang out, I’m not sure). And now Zeb and I have our vintage suitcase packed with a few days worth of belongings and are spending the time at my mom’s.

And the days keep counting down…

Life…and death…have sent me a reminder.

I sat at my kitchen counter as I waited for my macaroni casserole to finish in the oven, determined to finish The Omnivore’s Dilemma which was due back today. Justin came in, wrapping his arms around me in silence. I finished my paragraph, and asked if something was wrong as I looked up.

Something was wrong. My husband had tears streaming down his face. He told me he just got off the phone. A friend of his had shot and killed himself yesterday, leaving behind a wife he had recently separated from and his two small children.

I held my husband while he tried to wrap his mind around the pain this man must have been so deeply absorbed in. And as I tried to send my love to both my grieving husband and this man’s family, I silently admonished myself: My husband had come to me in quiet tears and I had to finish my paragraph before even looking up.

You think you know a lesson. It’s been impressed upon you countless times. And yet, in the every day minutes of life it is so easily lost.

It takes only a moment for our worlds to change. It takes a mere second for a trigger to be pulled and every wrong-spoken word up to that point to seem inconsequential, meaningless or unnecessary. It takes one fateful phone call to remind us that the true meaning of life lies within the actions of a single breath.

I don’t pretend to know what the experience was imparting on the father and husband in my arms, not to mention the grieve of the closest loved ones left behind. But the only thing Justin could utter was the humor and fun this man had brought to his life. He had made work worth going to on the days when no one wanted to get out of bed. His laughter left a legacy.

Earlier this morning, I had read a comment addressed to me about Zeb’s education or potential lack there of. And the words came swimming back to me as a reminder as I pressed my forehead to my husband’s and wiped away his tears. How can we wrap ourselves up in the things that will not matter in the end? Surely we can find a way to grow and learn and experience in this life without forgetting why it is we want to live in the first place? We chase those dreams for the hope of finding what we already have within our immediate reach – joy and happiness and peace.

We, our family, lives for love. We want to live in a way to never again hear about a person’s death and become overcome with regret over the last words uttered or the memories never made. (Please Gd, let it not be forgotten again.)

Let me repeat myself, if for no one else but myself: At the end of our lives, when the phone calls are being made from one person to the next, nothing else will matter but the memories that come swarming back into the hearts of the people we called friends, were lucky enough to call family.

Life…and death…have sent me a reminder. Gentler this time, but just as powerful. And I’m feeling impressed upon to pass it along to you.

In memory of Justin’s friend, Dave and his wife and most especially his babies: Put away your deadline or your goal. Set aside your pride or your impatience. Put down your book…and walk up to someone in your life right now with nothing more than unconditional love. Hold them. Tell them what they mean to you.

Give them something pure to remember you by.

Nothing else matters.