Simple, Simple, Simpler

Yesterday, my son turned 4.

I am in awe and very humbled by what I continue to learn from following his natural growth, rather than trying to push him outward.

I had planned a big party at the park, invited dozens of people, had several activities and party props planned. Only about 5 families RSVP'd, and I decided the kids would probably want to free play more than most things, so I decided to just go with a handful of things (a bubble blower and other bubble supplies, face painting, and decorating their own cupcakes -- plus a feast of food).

All day, I kept feeling this desire to connect him with his distant loved ones, who wanted to call and wish him a happy birthday, and to just sit down and talk with my son about his birth story, "4 years ago, in this moment, I was...." Instead, I was racing through grocery stores grabbing last-minute things and then prepping food for the party. I am very proud of myself, though. I was able to stop prepping food and eat for myself, reminding myself that calm and nourishment was important for me, regardless of the party status for the day. I kept telling myself, as I was feeling overwhelmed by the preparation still unchecked on my to do list, that the only thing I really needed to do was be there. I took the time to lay with my baby, to nurse her to sleep without my mind being 10 other places. I just quieted my brain and waited <3

And an amazing thing happened. That rush of adrenalin and stress that usually washes over me, because things are rarely ever finished, and because I am usually late, and because I end up needing help from people to get everything set up..... It never existed. Those things still happened (the food prepping wasn't finished, I was an hour late to the park, and people helped me set up and take down), but I didn't have the rush, the hyped up anxiety and adrenalin, or the stress. I just was present. I didn't yell at Kassidy to help me, or stress her out with anxiety, because I wasn't feeding it in myself. We just worked along side each other, blasting music, and enjoying ourselves and each other.

I had a thought that I have been having a lot recently. I can't articulate it in words as simply and clearly as it comes into my head, but when I have these moments where I am stressing and ready to yell or force something from my children because we have somewhere to be or something to do, I think staying connected to my kids is usually the purpose of whatever it is that I am heading toward, so it just doesn't make sense to break that connection now. If I am trying to get to the party to celebrate my son's birth and life, it just doesn't make sense to yell at him or be mad at him for doing something that distracts me from hurrying to get to that goal. We have the opportunity to already be there now, to have that be a continuation of our connection, of our path, instead of it being a destination.

My son is so slow, so deep, so deliberate. He is so unaware of what things "could" be, and he would probably pick the slower, simpler, more connective options anyway.

Only 2 families showed up to the party -- 2 families that he loves so very much -- and a couple kids from our neighborhood came.

It was perfect.

The bubbles were a hit, the face painting sat unused for the most part, and the cupcakes were sprinkled and devoured with glee :))

I can't find the words to express the deep strings these simplified experiences pluck on my heart. We had some fabric as a table cloth, some delicious food (chips and homemade salsa, strawberries and whipped sweet cream-cheesy dip, veggies and ranch, and grapes -- I forgot the hummus at home, so we couldn't do that tray of yummies), a bubble blower blowing magic and a mystical atmosphere all over our party and all over the park -- drawing new children to come play and chase and fight and dance with us. We had a reconnection with one of Noble's dear friends, who he played very happily with all day.

We had a couple of gifts that fit perfectly into Noble's interests: some mythical creature figurines to inspire Noble's already imaginative play, and a beautiful little train and a car. And he just opened them up throughout the party, when someone wanted to give them to him, and he played with them for a long time after he opened them. He took his time getting to know the toy and enjoy it before moving on to open another gift. I love this so much more than opening a ton of gifts all at once. He got to really bless each one and integrate them into his play and his life.

I think for future birthday celebrations, we may just make a day out of it, invite people to our home to celebrate whenever they can make it throughout the day, and spend the day connecting with loved ones -- spending time with them when they are here and calling the distant ones during lulls in the day. Maybe we will stick with the cupcake idea, and whoever comes can grab one and sing happy birthday to birthday person (or whatever blessing they want to give), because kids can't get enough of that song, you know? We don't need the common party traditions and routines. We are going to freestyle it.

I have shared a lot of the details of the day, and I love the organicness of that, but my point in writing this post was to really drive home (mostly to myself, as I process during the writing of this post) the utter perfectness (for us) of simplicity, how far reaching I am finding it applies in our lives. I have expanded so much as a person, and I am really enjoying this draw back in, to the deeply personal. I don't need a million places to go, gobs of stuff, or a giant community of loved ones (online or in face). We seem to be happier, feel more substance, when we have deep connections with just a few people.

When I move slower, I feel the ground beneath my feet. This may not be for everyone. Maybe not everyone is the type of person who can hurdle boulders but trip on pebbles. I said that about myself in the past, noticing how my depression seemed to happen. I think the reason I was able to hurdle boulders is because I was out of touch with my journey and so just leaping and racing, but my inner self was so conscious of every tiny bit, and so when I could feel the pebbles that were out of alignment, they could trip me up. They were meant to trip me up. I am slow. And I was running. The tripping was mana for the soul, for our lifestyle. I am so grateful for this slow journey, for the awareness I now have about what really works for me and what I want out of life.

I am able to clear out the brush, pinpoint the specific plants, and then grow and nourish the plants and the garden.

Slow is a bad word in this society. It's a word we call people who don't move or develop as fast as we want them to or think they should. It's definately not valued in this capitalistic system of bigger, faster, more. Not to say there is anything wrong with that lifestyle, but once again, I find myself a part of an invisible minority group: the people who value slowness. The only problem for me is that because they were invisible, I didn't know they existed, didn't know there was a choice.

Fastness and consumption, for me, stems from anxiety. I am slow. I like to be with what already is and let go intentionally and bring in deliberately. I was made for slowness. I notice everything. I'm so sensitive to details. I can only move quickly if I am ignoring those details, and I don't want to ignore those details. Those details are my life. Each moment of presence and fulfillment with my children and our animals and our home are what my life is all about.

Centering my life around my children can look like us pending a whole day playing a package of balloons at home, within the natural cycle of our daily life of basic needs. I don't have to be supermom -- she flies too fast. I want to be the mom who kicks back in a chair (with feet up) and watches the garden grow and watches the kids play. I want to feel the food in my belly digest and feel how my body responds to it, so I can build a connective and healthy relationship with food. I want to spend a whole day reconnecting with a dear friend, celebrating our past, present, and future, exploring the possibilities of life through conversation with a warm cup of tea. I want to clean my home with mindfulness -- bless each thing I touch, remember the memories I have shared with it, prepare it for its next use.

I want to go slow so I don't miss a thing. It's all so precious, the moments, the connections, the stuff, the development, the joy.

I have a confession, and this may come as no surprise. I had an idea of how to interact with my children in a connective way, how to connect with them in a life-learning, joyful way, but I was missing that bridge that helped me to find how to get in there and do it in a way that didn't bring up heapfuls of unprocessed anxiety. I wasn't up for all that processing at my kids' expense (because I was already doing so much in every other area of my life, this would have put me over the top, and I would have ended up that stressed out overwhelmed mom who yells and then cries because she feels bad about it).

Wanting to be connective with Noble yesterday, and knowing how I want to celebrate life and birthdays and everything else, helped me to find my bridge to how I want to spend my days with my kids. It is such a simple bridge, one that maybe I built over the thinnest part of the stream. It's just being with my kids in a slow connection-oriented way, finding a way to cultivate our values and live them in a child-leveled way.

So, focusing on the beloved people in our lives, on ways to live more "green", on the simple and enjoyable tasks of home maintenance, on caring for the animals and plants in our lives.

I have found the pinpoint for growth of a relationship of daily being with my children. I'm ready to find ways to make small things big (like a whole week to celebrate a birthday or other holiday), so we don't have to have lots of things to feel fulfilled, to feel whole.

I've decided that I don't need a bunch of followers of this blog. It doesn't ever have to grow big enough that it can someday contribute to my family's income (that was my long-term goal). I'm fine if it is just me journalling and sending it out into the world, with a couple close friends keeping posted on my emotional and physical status.

Slow. Deliberate. Connective, to the people and things I love, as well as to myself. Staying connected to myself requires a certain slowness as well, especially while I am learning so much about myself. Like strolling down a nature trail with myself and noting my reactions to things so I can understand me better and tailor my life even more accutely. I'm so in love with me, so in love with my life, with each of my children, with our possibilities for fun and adventure in the many years we have together still.

Mmmmm, one delicious barefoot step at a time.

This is me: slow and deep and magical and an old soul