I’m tired
And some days I need to rest
Cheer you on from the sidelines
Turn when you say “Look mama!”
Give you juice and gentle hugs
But on others
When I can
I’ll be your lift off
Hold you up by my feet so you’re flying
Tumble on the soft grass
Fling these bones into cartwheels and handstands
Chase you into giggles
Do it all again
Jump for Joy is a series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life.
Every year for her birthday, I draw Isla a picture of that number of animals in the shape of that number. I was sure she'd tell me to stop by now. She told me recently that I have to keep doing this until she's 26. Game on.
We celebrated my daughter Isla's 8th birthday at the end of October. This seems preposterous. She was a baby just yesterday, I'm sure of it. But alas, it is true. My 57-pound bundle of joy barely fits on my lap these days, and more and more I can see the young woman she is becoming behind those beautiful eyes that still light up at the thought of the tooth fairy visiting. We talk about how she saw Santa downtown last month, "the real Santa, Mum," and then we discuss profit margins and marketing strategies for the bakery she wants to own some day. It's beautiful, baring witness to this time in her life, this in-between. I want to hold fast to my baby and keep her little just awhile longer, but I also can't wait to meet this young woman and see her take on this life.
I started to draft a post about the 8 most important lessons I want to teach her as she grows up, but as I began to brainstorm my list, I realized that she came into this world with an awe-inspiring wisdom and spirit all her own, and she has already learned so much in her 8 years here. And all this while, it turns out, she has been the one teaching me. These are just 8 of the most important lessons I have learned from her, so far:
1) Monkey Bars or Bust
This past summer, my daughter's one goal was to master the monkey bars. When she started out, she could barely reach them. Every ounce of her little body strained for her fingertips to grip the paint-flaked metal. Every bit of her strength rallied to pull those little toes off the ground. She'd take one swing, grasping for the next rung, and fall. She'd get back up. She'd try again. When her palms got sweaty and slippery, she would dust them with the wood shavings underneath the playground, like a rock climber chalking her hands. She'd get frustrated, and I'd ask her now and then if she wanted to take a break, go down the slide, play tag. "No," she'd say defiantly. It was monkey bars or bust, and by the end of the summer, she could make it across and back, go backwards, skip rungs. Let me tell you: that first time she made it across, the joy on her face...that's what we live for as parents and that's what we should live for as people lucky enough to have a chance on this planet. And so she has taught me to persevere: to get back up, dust my hands, and try and try again until I've made it across.
2) One Box of Smarties = Six Months of Delight
My step-dad, Frank, came into our lives at the same time that Isla did; in fact, I first met him in the hospital waiting room, my daughter in my arms. It took awhile for us to all get to know each other, but in time he became not only a father figure to me, but a grandfather to my children. And like any grandfather, he liked to spoil his grandkids. Nearly every time he came to visit, he would arrive with a box of Smarties tucked in his shirt pocket. This gift of his was so reliable that Isla called them "Frank treats" and she looooved her Frank treats. She would carefully choose just the right one, hold it in her tiny fingers, and lick it, enjoying it little by little, making it last (literally) hours. She continues to do this with any treat or luxury: she thoroughly enjoys it, lives in the moment, and makes it last.
We lost Frank two years ago but every time I see a box of "Frank treats" I think of him and the love and little candy-coated hours of happiness he shared with the girls.
3) Hearts are Made for Loving
A card from Isla with a picture of her giving me the same card. Whoa.
Isla is the most loving, compassionate person I've ever met. She walks into every situation, every relationship, with the question: What can I do to make their day a little brighter? I've come to realize that this website would be entirely unnecessary if I just turned the spotlight on her. She can show us how to find joy. It's simple: you find joy for yourself by giving it to others. I wake up to her beaming smile, so excited to lead me to the breakfast she made especially for me ("No peeking, Mum!"). She tells me that there's a new kid in her class, who she introduced herself to at recess and invited to play. It is difficult to leave our house without some sort of card or drawing or craft in your pocket, or a loving hug wrapped around your waist. She gives with her whole heart, without expecting anything in return.
4) Fun is Fun!
Isla is also the silliest person I've ever met. And like any properly silly person, she is a natural connoisseur of the ridiculous. Like her mother, Isla has never met a pun she didn't like, and jokes of any kind (but particularly of the knock-knock variety) are hilarious and to be encouraged with booming belly laughs. I have learned that when I want to make her day a little brighter, I need only walk into the room with something on my head or crawling on all fours like a bear. I once found a lone sock on the floor and picked it up and pretended it was my baby, rocking it in my arms and trying to soothe its sock-baby cries. Isla lit up and ran over with the other sock to match. "Twins!" I shouted with glee, and that kid absolutely squealed with delight, more than I think I have ever experienced in my life. She reminds me all the time that fun is meant to be fun, that this life is here to be lived and enjoyed, and that swimsuits double as perfectly suitable pyjamas.
5) Go with your Gut
My daughter's best friend's grandmother (stay with me here) lives three doors down, which means that her best friend is around a lot and there is often a gaggle of giggly girls running back and forth between our two houses. One afternoon a few months ago, Isla came in to let me know that her friend wanted them to go play in a neighbour's front yard, the yard of the man who lives next door to her friend's grandmother. The friend and her family know him very well but my girls and I do not. Before I could say anything, though, Isla told me that she was not comfortable playing there. The yard is visible from my window and so I would have been okay with them playing there (they cross over his lawn all the time) but I told her that she was right to listen to her instincts, and that she didn't, and doesn't ever, have to go anywhere that she is not comfortable going. I was amazed by her, and continue to be amazed and grateful that she will listen to her gut and speak up. I hope it continues. And I hope I can do a little better at it myself.
6) Hair Shmair
About a year or so ago, Isla decided, seemingly on a whim, that she wanted to cut off all of her hair. I was taking her for what I thought would be just a trim, just an inch or two off the bottom of her past-the-shoulders hair. But no, she informed me that she wanted it short. Like short short. Like pixie short. I asked her if she was sure. She said she was. I asked her again, about twelve more times. She was really, really sure. And in the end, despite my misgivings, I understood that it was her hair and therefore it was her choice. So the hair came off. And damned if it didn't look incredible, and she absolutely adored it. For awhile, anyway. It wasn't long before she wanted to grow it back out. But she didn't regret her decision. Hair grows back. She taught me that it's okay to take a leap and try something new. And that sometimes, it's best not to listen to your mother.
7) Who Needs Tiffany's When You Have Michael's?
How can this kid get more fabulous? Well, she also happens to be incredibly creative and resourceful. When she turned 7, I told Isla that she could get her ears pierced if she wished, but she has decided that for the time being, the pain is not worth the gain. Does that stop her from accessorizing? No way. One day I looked over and she had gemstones on her ears, or at least it appeared that way. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that they were faux rhinestone stickers that she had found in the craft supplies. Brilliant. You can have what you want; sometimes, you just have to use your imagination to find another way.
We had a little talk about rule #2: "Do not touch unless your told to". She was concerned about everyone's safety, but conceded that maybe members could make some decisions for themselves. She chose to delete that rule.
8) Be the Change
As you might expect, my daughter is a very well-liked kid who gets along with most everyone. There have, however, already been times in her short 8 years here that she has been treated unfairly and left out of the group. Last year, a group of girls who had been her very closest friends suddenly turned on her, and wouldn't let her be a part of their recess Fairy Club. The problem, as I understood it, was that Isla didn't believe in fairies, and they wouldn't let her play unless she said she did.
Despite the fact that she dearly wanted to play with her friends, LOVED to play fairies and make up stories and scenarios, she stood her ground: she wouldn't say something she didn't believe. And so, they continued to leave her out.
She cried, and I did my best to explain something that is pretty inexplicable. She cried some more. And then she got angry. And then she got calm. And then one day she come home and told me that she had started her own club, a Nature Club, and she had already recruited a few kids to join her. I think my jaw may have actually dropped. Together, we researched games and activities for her club, and she came up with a list of rules. She told me, though, that one of the rules was unwritten: everyone was allowed to join.
Nature Club caught on for a few weeks, but then her friends missed her and invited her back to play. She was pleased as punch, but since then she has insisted that they always include anyone else who wishes to join them.
I feel immensely proud of this young woman every day, and when I feel like I don't know where I'm going, I look to her. It's a funny thing, this parenthood. Here I thought I was supposed to be a role model for her, and it's the other way around.
I expect that she has more to teach me. You can bet that I have my notepad ready.
Go ahead and jump.
On the way home from the park one afternoon a few weeks ago, it started to rain. The girls and I picked up the pace, dodging raindrops as we giggled our way home. Approaching the house, I turned back intent on urging those little legs to move quickly and get inside before we got too wet, inconvenient repercussions foremost in mind. But I stopped short before I said a word: There, in their sweet faces, turned to the heavens, I saw the pure joy I'm always banging on about. They were fully in the moment, alive, drinking in every sensation, open wide to the experience in every way. They were having the time of their lives.
"Can we stay out just one more minute?" they implored, likely doubtful that their too-often by-the-book mama would sanction such an activity.
I took a breath, letting go of thoughts of carpet-drenching footsteps and muddy laundry. There was no lightning. It was bath night anyways.
"Yes. Yes, you can."
I stood in the doorway and watched every stitch of their summer dresses soaking through, every inch of their arms and legs and cheeks basking in the glory of the summer rain, squeals of delight bursting from their gorgeous souls.
After a few minutes, breathless and glowing, they came inside, shedding their clothing at the front door mat and, at their mother's suggestion, flinging it full force down the basement stairs (extra points if they hit the bottom with a satisfying, soggy smack), before jumping into the bubbliest of baths.
Since that time we have twice now ventured out post-rain (having missed the rain itself) in search of the biggest mud puddles we could find to jump into with wild abandon, laundry be damned. I've seen tentative hops and "Really? We can do this?" glances quickly escalate to full-on running leaps designed to displace the most water and mud possible (extra points for splashing mom). I've heard the most beautiful, joyful laughter. And I've heard myself, the one who only a few weeks ago would have admonished "Get out of the puddles! Watch your dress!", shout "Come on! You can get muddier than that!"
And last night, I jumped in too. (They know what it's about, those kids. So much fun!)
Life is short, and these moments are what life is all about. It's not about the laundry. It's about all the mess and joy and fun that creates the laundry. And if you're lucky, you'll have piles of it to do. (Once you peel it, sopping, off the basement floor. And scrub the mud off the ceiling. And teach them better aim.)
Jump for Joy is a new series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life.
Twirly skirts for bonus points.
When I was a stay-at-home mama, my eldest and I began a tradition we call "morning dance party", which is precisely what it says on the box: we take a few minutes out of an often hectic morning to pump up the jam and kick up our heels. We sometimes take turns teaching each other dance moves, and inevitably we end up holding hands and twirling in a circle until mama is nauseous and announces it's time to freestyle.
In recent years, with an early start to my work day, our dance parties were relegated to the weekend, but now that I'm home (hurrah!), we're back up and moving! My girls have to be out the door for school at 8:30 am, and I'm making it my goal to have us all set for 8:00 am, when possible, so we have plenty of time to jump, jive, and generally have an awesome time together before we head off to our busy days (sorry, downstairs neighbours, but we're having too much fun).
If you have a few minutes, or can make a few minutes, I highly recommend that you turn up the beat and dance yourself into an amazing morning. It's a great way to start the day in a positive way, get active, and introduce the small people to the music of your youth. Might I suggest some Motown Philly?
And listen, this is not just a family thing. On your own? Dance like nobody's watching, because they aren't. (P.S. Morning Dance Party's equally vivacious cousin is Saturday Night Try On All Your Fancy Clothes And Dance Around Your Bedroom Party).
Jump for Joy is a new series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life.
Classic Uncle Phil
I'm not ashamed to admit that I spent a good and worthwhile portion of the early '90s watching the amazing television program that was The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I'm not sure I can fully explain its appeal to me, but it was a show with a lot of heart that offered both laugh-out-loud entertainment and occasional heartfelt, real issue storylines (remember this?). I distinctly remember killing it with my Hilary Banks impression, doing the Carlton, and rapping my teenaged, white girl heart out about chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the biggest argument that my sister and I have ever had was about the theme song lyrics. She insisted that the line "My life got flipped, turned upside down" was "My life got twistered upside down." I know! That's not even a word! (What's the point of having your own website if not to publicly shame your totally-wrong sibling?)
So flash forward to 2005. Somehow my ex-husband and I found ourselves invited to an Oscars viewing gala in Beverly Hills. Excuse me, what? Fly to L.A. and watch the Oscars with a bunch of celebrities? Um, okay! So away we went and the big event came. We pulled up to the Beverly Hills Hotel in our fancy, um, taxi and walked the red carpet. Shockingly, the paparazzi could not care less about who I was or what I was wearing, but I'm not going to pretend that it wasn't awesome to walk those few steps past the flashing cameras (although it's possible the thought, "Screw you, Thora Birch, you're no better than me!" passed through my brain).
Lest you think this was all going to my head, however, not ten minutes into the party someone spilled an entire glass of wine down the back of my dress. I just laughed and thought, "Yep, that's about right."
The evening progressed and essentially involved a bunch of B-list celebrities (those not famous enough to be invited to attend the actual Oscars) sitting in a ballroom, inexplicably interspersed with nobodies like me, eating dinner and watching the 77th Annual Academy Awards on huge screens as it was broadcast live from just a few blocks away at the Kodak Theatre. While I find celebrity culture kind of fascinating, I'm not really someone to get particularly star-struck (they're just like you and me!), but at one point I did find myself thinking, "I'm in the same room as Jennie Garth. I'm in the same room as Kelly Taylor from Beverly Hills 90210! I'm IN Beverly Hills 90210!!!"
And then, there he was. I was navigating my way back to our table after a visit to the ladies room and I looked ahead to see that there were two possible paths I could take. One was free and clear. One was being blocked by James Avery. A.k.a. Uncle Phil from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Uncle Phil was 20 feet away from me. And, without even a single moment's hesitation, I thought, "Well clearly I'm going to go past Uncle Phil" and I proceeded accordingly, wobbling in my high heels and my wine-soaked no-name dress, winding my way through the tables until I came to a mid-conversation James Avery, offered a polite "Excuse me" as I squeezed myself past him, and continued onward into a new and improved life in which I could proudly proclaim that I touched Uncle Phil. It's possible this is now my go-to random fact about myself. It's possible that's why some men don't call me for a second date (Who needs you? I touched Uncle Phil!).
If you've read any of my previous posts, you'll know that I've never met a metaphor I didn't want to bring home to meet my parents, so it should come as no surprise to you to hear me extol this experience as a metaphor for life. I've often thought back to that experience, that very moment of deciding whether I was going to take the easy path or the memorable path, and considered it a reminder to have fun and choose the path to the better story. Listen, this particular example was a no-brainer, but there are lots of times in life when we choose safety over adventure, the path of least resistance that is known to us over the path that offers a new experience. And I'd like to urge you to choose the latter, to choose the path that brings you both the heartfelt and the laugh-out-loud moments and allows you to tell a story all about how your own life got FLIPPED TURNED upside down. Simply put, when (metaphorically speaking) two paths diverge in the Beverly Hills Hotel, choose the path of most Uncle Phil. It will make all the difference.
Oh please don't eat me!
Welcome to Jump for Joy, a new series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life. The series was inspired by the topic of this first post, a little idea that was so easy and brought so much bang for next to no buck.
Last year, on April Fools Eve, I grabbed a black Sharpie and a set of white, circle stickers bought from the dollar store and anthropomorphized objects all over the house (full credit to Pinterest for the idea). The next morning was greeted by the loveliest laughter as my daughters discovered our curious new housemates. Bonus: the "juice" cups in the photo above were filled with Jello, also a well-received surprise. Nearly a year later, many of these eyes are still up around the house, and they continue to be a source of smiles. For me, they serve as reminders to lighten up and have fun. I mean, how can you stay grumpy when the bannister's looking at you like that?
