So I have been getting up between 6-6:30am so that I can meditate for 20-40 minutes without interruption. I've found that the benefits are far outweighing my lack of sleep. I feel kinder, more prepared, grounded and ready to tackle the chaos of our morning ritual. 

If you're having trouble finding the motivation to meditate, would you consider joining me?

This thought follows after trying to organize a sitting group for parents and caregivers and hearing from folks that they either couldn't find childcare or were too busy. As a result, I thought I'd create a virtual sitting group. No commitment. Just community. Join me when you're available.

One important note, there is no fixed time here. Please join me anytime between 6-7am (I often start  between 6-6:20am). Recognizing that we are all busy people, I want to make sure that we enjoy our self care practice (i.e., no guilt). As such, flexibility and gentleness is often required! 

Looking forward to seeing others bright and early!

ps: I like to use "insight timer" https://insighttimer.com as it has fabulous guided meditations and simple timers. I also appreciate that I can see the larger community that is meditating along side me - being part of a sitting community is a beautiful thing. 
pps: If you're new to meditation or have no idea what I'm talking about, let me know. I'm happy to walk you through it. 

As many of you know, I was recently at a 5 day Silent Retreat Training outside Rochester, NY. And while there were wagers placed (I’m looking at you dad) about my success in being silent for five full days, I actually found that I revelled in the silence. I loved the routine and the freedom of not looking anyone in the eyes. I loved the simplicity of waking up, meditating, eating mindfully, meditating, eating, meditating, eating again, meditating and then sleeping … only to wake up the next day and do it all again!

Now if you don’t know what a walking meditation entails, let me “walk” you through it. For me, this involves walking ~15ft, slowly and deliberately with my eyes (mostly) closed. Once you hit the end, you stop, turn mindfully in one direction (I like to live on the edge and alternate my directions), and walk back the other way. The beauty of this practice is that you’re moving your body, feeling your muscles and bones and joints, all while focusing on your breath. I also love when you get to the point where your awareness completely opens up and not only are you in your body, but you are fully aware of your environment, experienced not through sight, but through the smells, sounds and textures of the ground upon which you’re walking. Walking meditation is definitely one of my favourite ways to meditate.  

Have you ever tried it? In the words of my fabulous facilitators, Susan Woods and Helen Vantine, where did it land for you? 

I want to tell you a little story about Bertie, the earthworm who may have transformed my professional outlook on parenting and perhaps, life itself. 

A little dramatic you say? Well, let me play it out for you so that you too can see how Bertie helped me to take something cognitive (in my head) and make it an embodied (in my heart) experience. 

Here I was, in the rain trying to find a space for my walking meditation. I decided to get a little wild and crazy and move beyond the ramp of the retreat centre (where I spent at least 3 hours walking back and forth 15ft), and walk up the hill to a lovely little foot path. Problem was, there were earthworms scattered everywhere! To those watching from the inside, I most likely looked like I was do the polka on my way up the hill. However, I was determined to make it up the path without stepping on the earthworms - after all, I had just spent the last two hours of my loving kindness meditations sending love and safe thoughts to all sentient beings (which presumably include earthworms). Not-to-mention,  I was staying at a buddhist retreat centre where I was pretty sure karma would bite me in the ass if I were to harm any being during my stay. Notwithstanding, I got to my “lovely little path” and again, it was littered with earthworms. After prancing about like a fool on hot coals to avoid them, I found a small patch that was around 10 feet long. I marked the beginning and the end (so as to not step on those worms that were out of bounds) and began my walk. 

But then I saw it. 

I saw this large, 3.5” worm slowly making its way across the path. With its pink head bopping about and purplish body inching its way slowly behind, I became a little mesmerized by the movement of this worm. If you haven't had the blessed opportunity to watch a worm in action, I strongly encourage you to do so. It’s a little like watching those last few teaspoons of maple syrup s.l.o.w.l.y pour out of the bottle - it’s extremely rewarding. I watched this little worm explore its way across this path that was made up of sharp, small rocks. 

My first reaction was that I should move the worm and put it to safety. Then it dawned on me. What if this worm had spent the last few hours getting the courage up to cross this path? What if this worm had made a daring escape from a stalking robin and was on its way to blissful freedom? Who was I to decide the journey this worm was taking? Who was I to take away the experience of feeling those jagged pebbles? Who was I to take away the learning that would take place from negotiating the path through those jagged pebbles. Finally, who was I to take away his experience of feeling that lone flower petal on his back, which could only have happened once he made it to the middle of the gosh darn path! 

No, instead of plucking it up and moving it to relative “safety”, I decided to draw a large circle around the worm so that I wouldn’t step on it (only now do I realize that I was essentially creating a large bullseye around it for the birds, but that’s neither here nor there). I then (telepathically, of course) told the worm that I was there if it needed me. 

I fully and completely understood that this struggle - this brave and noble adventure - would help my dear worm become a smarter, stronger and more capable earthworm. This risky journey was part of its learning process.

And that’s when it hit me. 

This is one secret of mindful parenting. 

Too often we pluck our children out of danger. Too often we take away their opportunity to experience the textures and embellishments that life offers us upon the path less taken. Too often we “protect” our children and keep them from finding their edges so that they learn healthy boundaries, as well as that incredibly important skill of trusting their own capacities and skills.  Too often WE don’t trust our children’s capacities and skills.

Instead of plucking our children out of harm’s way, what if we provided them with the skills to navigate pain, joy, love and hurt, but then drew a large circle around them and stepped back to revel in their courageous journey to make sense of this crazy and fabulously textured world? 

What if we let them know that we trusted their abilities and skills, but if they ever ran into trouble, we’d be there to pluck them out of true harm’s way. What if part of raising our children was purposefully letting them feel pain, struggle and challenges in a controlled environment that allowed them to test their edges and establish their emotional, cognitive and physical boundaries, all while knowing that if things went bad, we’d be there to “pluck them out” of danger. 

I’m not arguing for us to toss our kids in the middle of an intersection to negotiate traffic. However, I am suggesting that we teach them how to climb trees safely then let them climb trees. That we teach them how to negotiate difficult emotions, then find their own resolutions to the fight on the school yard. And, that we remind them daily that we trust them and want to support them in trusting themselves.

This is what Bertie the worm taught me that day. It taught me that parenting is a journey, full of rich textures, beautiful embellishments and lots of risks! Bertie also reminded me that our job as parents is to teach our children about those amazing textures, those beautiful embellishments and those fabulous risks, but then take a few steps back to let our children explore their own edges and learn to trust themselves from an embodied, experiential process. 

I get that this sounds kooky. Hearing your therapist talk about their conversation with a worm might sound a little odd. However, the other lesson to this tale is that you never know who your teacher might be - a child, a mentor, or if you’re lucky, it might be a 3.5” earthworm, named Bertie, on a lovely little foot path outside Rochester, NY.

I am far from the best parent. But I am working very hard to be a Mindful Parent. One of my favourite techniques learned throughout this journey has been learning to STOP. In its most simple form it asks that I: 1) Stop, 2) Take a Breath, 3) Observe how I’m feeling and, 4) Proceed (with kindness). ​

If anything, practicing my “STOP” allows me the space to pause and reflect - respond instead of react. Taking a PAUSE, when the emotions start ramping up is a crucial part of being present and aware. That Pause is the magic. 

So what does this really look like? When things aren’t moving in the direction I need them to go (e.g., kids not listening, fighting, running around the house like lemurs on speed, etc.), I STOP. I put down the groceries or turn my back on the kids who are totally ignoring me after being told (insert ridiculous # here) times to quit what they’re doing.  I take three long, deep belly breaths. I check in with myself, and think about where in my body my emotions are hitting me the hardest. Is the rage strongest in my belly? Is my head pounding? Are my fists clenched? I try not to judge or think of the why, but focus on the feeling or sensation in my body. And then, here is where the magic starts, I pause. Because once I’m aware of my body sensations, I have begun to gain back my power. I’ve now secured the control needed to take those next crucial parenting steps. 

And so, I breathe into that belly, the head, the fists and I work to relax the sensation. After that, it’s (almost) smooth sailing into the grand “P”. Proceed with kindness. I’m not going to lie, the kindness gig is hard. Especially when you’ve asked your child to pick up that toy for the umpteenth time, or when your kid calls you an “idiot” because he’s hurt or angry. But the kindness is important. It’s a reminder that my job is to model behaviour - to share with my children the skill of self control, discipline (in the form of teaching and natural consequences) and to respond to hurt with love.**

Now, you might be asking if it’s really possible for me to “STOP” every time. The answer is a BIG FAT NO. I’m afraid that despite my best intentions, I forget the PAUSE, the check in, the breath and sometimes, everything in between. However, Mindful Parenting is a Practice. Fortunately for us, our children, our partners, our colleagues, our parents and our community give us many (sometimes too many) opportunities to practice this skill. However, I know that if we can learn to pause before losing our cool, the other “letters” may just start to follow. I know for myself, the practice of meditating daily, scaffolding the practice with my kids (having the discussion in detail at supper time and throughout our day), and putting up reminders around our house (wee little stop signs) has been really helpful. I also try to remind myself that sometimes we need to go back to the beginning and start over - this week required many “start overs.” Sadly the stop signs around the house have fallen down and I have forgotten to check in with my body before responding. I feel like I need a little bit of a reboot.

So today, after I finish writing this post, I’m going to (re)print out some stop signs and post them in areas that cause my family the most stress (i.e., at the front entrance when we’re getting ready for school and in the bathroom upstairs when we’re fighting over sink space at bedtime). And then, at supper tonight I’m going to revisit the STOP techniques and invite my children to talk about how they can incorporate this practice into their day (or see if they’ve been practicing it). I’ll keep you posted. 

I’ve attached a couple stop signs that you are welcome to print out to put around your house.  I’d love to know if you found this activity practice helpful - feel free to leave a comment and definitely check into this blog later this week for further articles on Mindful Parenting.

Today I yelled at my kid. And not just once, but a few times in a mean kind of way. This, the day after I launched my fancy new Mindful Parenting business. I could pretend that this didn’t happen, but my neighbours heard me and the truth is, I think a little accountability on my end is required. You see, I may know better. I may have lots of useful skills in helping others by introducing Mindful Parenting and mindfulness into their daily practice, and even help them through significant trauma. However, just like you, I’m fallible. I’m doing the best I can with the resources that I have. And some days, those lack resources mean that I have little sleep. Or other days, I may have managed to parent my beautiful children with kindness, respect and full presence, but I’ve reached my limit of the bickering, the whingeing or the small challenges that make our children lie down in the middle of the crosswalk on a really busy street. Some days, it might mean that my spirit bowl is completely tapped out and I have no more reserves. 

Notwithstanding, I know better. 

This morning, I let my littlest one sleep in so that he wouldn’t wake up cranky. I had everything ready this morning so that he could eat, throw on his snowsuit and get ready in time so we wouldn’t be rushed. I know that mornings are our most stressful time of day. We are always rushing out the door despite naturally waking up at 7am and not having to leave for school until 8:50am. We have almost two blissful hours to eat, get dressed, play, throw on the snowsuit and walk five minutes to school. Easy right? 

Well, it’s not. Inevitably, my kids get really involved in their activity of the morning and getting them to stop at 8:40 to get dressed is challenging, to say the least.  So, I pushed the time forward this morning to 8:30 so that we could put our work aside and head downstairs. Parenting 101, see a problem. Make a change. Done. 

Except, it’s not done when your youngest child is going through the (very normal) phase of being afraid of being separated more than 5 metres from any family member in the house. What does this look like? Let’s just say, I haven’t gone to the washroom alone for many days now. What else does this look like? I can’t run up the stairs to grab something, because it means that my kid will be alone on a different floor. 

As a therapist, I know what strategies work best when dealing with fear and anxiety. Yelling is not one them. And yet, this morning, as I realize that I need my knee braces which are on the top floor, I begin to run upstairs — knowing that this will set my kid off in a mass panic, but hoping that if I go fast enough, he might not notice. He noticed. Oh, how he noticed. 

The snowsuit that had been painfully put on at a sloth's pace, was ripped off in true jaguar speed and a small, newly 5 year old child came running up the stairs yelling, “How dare you leave me! You know I’m scared. How DARE you?”. My response, being the mindful parent that I am, was, “HOW DARE I? HOW DARE YOU TAKE OFF YOUR SNOWSUIT WHEN YOU KNOW THAT WE ARE IN A RUSH TO LEAVE? HOW DARE YOU WAKE ME UP 5 TIMES LAST NIGHT TO HAVE A CHAT? HOW DARE YOU IGNORE EVERYTHING I AM SAYING THIS MORNING?”

I’m really hoping that as you read this, you are able to point out the GLARING parenting mistakes that I just made. If not, no worries, I’m going to lay them out in sweet point form: 

1. I knew that going upstairs without him would set my son off. Instead, I could have told him that I have to run upstairs and ask if he needed to come with me or if he thought he could count to 10 to see if I could run up and be back in time. Both of these strategies have worked in the past and with enough repetition, will eventually help him through this phase. I know this. 
   
   
2. I yelled! When a child is scared, their amygdala is already firing at full power. Having their parent yell at them will only make their sense of fear stronger. It’s like pouring liquid butter on a grease fire. Instead, using a calm, slow voice, getting on their level (bending down) and moving slowly and confidently helps to soothe a scared little person (for the record, this works for big people too).
   
   
3. I brought up the night before, which I was obviously not feeling like I had addressed with my child. However, that was NOT the time. Instead, I could have talked to him after school and brainstormed some strategies to address our sleep issues. Yelling about something completely unrelated to the issues at hand, as we are trying to run out the door and while my child is in a full state of panic is not effective. In fact, it’s completely counterproductive and will only heighten his sense of anxiety and fear, particularly around sleep. 
   
   
4. I totally overgeneralized. He hadn’t, in fact, ignored everything I had said that morning. He had gotten out of his PJs, eaten his breakfast, and tidied his space when reminded. Using generalizations like this are completely unhelpful and often untrue. Put differently, they act as roadblocks to healthy communication. Instead, I could have described the moment and used “I feel” statements, such as: “I feel like you are ignoring me right now.” It’s direct. It’s truthful. It’s a problem that can be solved. 
   
   
5. Finally, I went to his level. Using the words, “HOW DARE YOU…” brought me down to a five year old mindset. As our dear Michelle Obama says, “When they go low, we go high”. And, I did not go high in this exchange. Instead, I went real real low. 
   
   

Having said all of this, I can’t pretend that it didn’t feel good to yell at that moment. I was angry and frustrated and I needed a release - I wanted justice for having asked 5 times for my kids to get dressed. I wanted justice for being woken up so many times through the night, that I felt exhausted and worn out by 8:50am. I wanted justice for not being able to go ten feet without a child on my tail. 

Now, it’s not a bad thing for kids to see that we have limits, it’s just that this exchange set us back. I punished my kid by yelling. That was my justice. However, if I had just taken a moment and grabbed a few blessed breaths before reacting, I most likely would have responded and disciplines my child differently. I could have coached him through the fear. I could have played a game to get his clothes on faster. I could have let us be a little late. I could have given him a cuddle, validated his fear and calmly explained why we need to move faster to get to school on time. I could have helped him get dressed; after all, he had been awake for all of 30 minutes and was a little grumpy too. All of these strategies have worked for me in the past. This is what positive discipline looks like — it’s a slow process to be sure, but I promise that it does it pay off in the end. Instead of setting our mornings up like a battle to be won, I know that it is so much more effective when we work as a team — helping the slowest member, cheering everyone on, celebrating the wins and losses together, and taking a breath or two for self care. 

So how did this morning end? 

Well, I have a rule that my kids don’t go to school unless we done a little healing first (if it’s been a rough morning). And so, I bent down and looked into my child’s eyes. I said that I was sorry for yelling and I explained that it wasn't okay for mama to flip her lid. I asked him for a cuddle and asked if we could talk about a way to make our mornings better after school. He said yes. And then, I asked him for a do-over and if would be up for making the rest of today fabulous. He, in his ever so perfect, five year old way, said "YES!" We did a little cheer, fist pumped the fabulous-to-be day and started skipping down the street. Because the truth is, if the foundation of love is there, patches of parental ugliness (and me yelling is definitely ugly) can be easily repaired through validation, connection (a cuddle), sincere apology and a plan for making things better. 

So there you have it my friends. I am not perfect, and I promise that I will never try to sell myself as something more than I am. While I am certainly committed to learning as much as I can about Mindful Parenting and sharing this knowledge with you, I am also just a mama who is trying to figure this out as I go.

If you’re up for it, though, I’d love to walk along side you throughout this care giving/parenting journey. Because, like I said before, we really are all in this together. ​

Ps: To really be able to "discipline" our children, we need to incorporate a daily practice of self-care. I get that this is not always available to us and easy for us to make time for.  As such, I'm going to dedicate some time focusing on strategies for parents and caregivers to incorporate more self-care into their world through mindfulness on this site. Fingers crossed, it helps! 

Starting an entirely new professional practice, coupled with navigating the world of blogging and web design is an adventure, to say the least. However, it affords some lovely creative possibilities. For instance, I love that I am able to mix three of my favourite professional practices: graphic design, education and therapy. I also appreciate that it forces me to be succinct in my messaging. My goal is to post a few of my favourite quotes, words of advice and Mindful Spirit Bowl Fillers (see my future post on this topic) on my be brave * be kind * be present Facebook page. Please check it out when you have a chance. 

https://www.facebook.com/bebravebekindbepresent/
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Until then, here are a couple of my newest graphics: