Halloween Madness

Joey is 8 years old, with hyperactive tendencies and speech problems. He speaks quickly and is difficult to understand. Often uncontrollable, reprimands for his behavior were constant and usually inconsistent. Watching the family process was exhausting even if I was not participating in it.

Most recently however, I had a unique experience with Joey. While visiting family, Joey and his mom arrived. This time, Joey was different. He was calmer and his speech was much clearer. He asked if he and I could play the game WII together. I was happy to oblige. We decided to try our hands at bowling.

Joey and I had two great games. We high-five-d one another for a strike or a spare and laughed through our bad throws. All in all, Joey was a joy to bowl with.

And then a funny thing happened. “Mom, can I have a candy? I did not have any dessert at lunch.” His mom consented with little thought, and Joey ran to get his Halloween bag. He pulled out a small chocolate bar and within seconds it was devoured. I watched as he eyed his mother’s awareness and slyly pulled out another. That one quickly disappeared. Nothing was said, so Joey continued to devour one candy after another.

Somewhere between a Twix and a Skiddles, he approached his uncle with a large yellow envelope and asked if he would donate to his school. “Where is my money going?” asked Uncle Bill.

He looked to his mother for an explanation. “Joey’s school is collecting money to help find a cure for childhood diabetes.” I managed to keep my mouth shut as the plot unfolded.

Candy continued to flow as denial and pretense filled the room. Not a word was spoken. It did not take long for Joey’s behavior to deteriorate. He became unruly, his ability to communicate was clearly out the window; Joey was not fun any more. The next words I remember coming from his mother’s lips were, “you need a time out”. What Joey really needed was an understanding of how food affects one’s behavior. One candy was more than enough for Joey’s sensitive little body.

I could not help but wonder if Joey’s behavior and speech might improve dramatically if he was fed a healthy diet filled with fresh organic foods, free of artificial colors, preservatives and caffeine. I thought it sad that Joey and his family may never have the opportunity to find out.

Should I have spoken up? The family is quite aware of my beliefs. I have learned not to jump into another’s space unless asked. Until then, I will continue to remain aware of my own judgements that obviously still need my constant attention.

Healing Hollybeth's Fears

Hollybeth was 3 months old when the phone rang one night. I answered to a nurse on the other end. She wanted to know if we were related to a Wojcik that was taken to the hospital. I knew my husband’s brother was dead. The words she would not speak said it all.

It was 11:00 that night. Hollybeth was sound asleep in her crib. I asked my best friend to stay with her. She wanted to accompany us to the hospital and leave her husband in charge. In my heart I knew it was not the right decision; yet in my traumatized state, I could not make a different choice. I left my baby sleeping.

Three hours later I returned to a screaming, traumatized infant and a babysitter sound asleep on my couch. Twenty four years ago I had no idea of the effects of this type of trauma. It followed her through life… until recently.

Sleeping alone in her room was frightful. For five years she crawled into our bed in the middle of the night without fail. She slept; I lay awake.

As a young child she was attached to my hip (literally). She refused to leave me. She wanted to participate in pajama parties yet her fear of being left would not allow it. I learned to expect the midnight phone call. “Holly needs to go home.” Without a thought, I jumped in the car and brought her home.

Night terrors and sleepwalking were common. Her brother and sister thought them entertaining; I found them traumatizing.

And then it was time to leave for college. I felt she had grown more confident and secure. For 10 days the phone rang day and night with Holly’s tears and frustration. She just wanted to come home. I finally recognized my Aspen daughter.

If only I had learned about flower essences when she was younger! Hollybeth had become an Aspen personality. She had a huge fear of the unknown, of being left alone, a fear of the dark.

It’s funny how our past traumas haunt us. As I watched her moments of fear weave through her life experiences, I was given clues as to the memory cell she had yet to heal. I recognized my little petrified baby in her crib. I could not go back and fix our past, and my constant pleas for forgiveness did not help her move this energy.

And then recently, in yet another moment of her patterned trauma, I had a thought: “Hollybeth, I promise I will never leave you when you need me to be with you.” And in that moment of expressing my truth to her, I felt a weight between us move. I knew I would keep that promise; Hollybeth knew it too. She no longer had to be afraid of being left alone. Mom would never do that to her again.

The words we speak from our heart are powerful healing tools. All we have to do is muster the courage to speak them.

As I left her room that day, I had to ask, “I’m leaving now Hollybeth. You’re not crying, are you?” She laughed. I left for work.

Parenting Can Be A Pain in the Back!

Recently a client wrote to let me know her back was aching (yet again). It came and went like the wind. And interestingly, in that same letter she was complaining how her son, John, had become a monster (yet again). He had been so sweet and kind and felt like she was back to square one in their relationship.

As I tested her “truth” with each line she wrote, something interesting revealed itself. What I brought to her attention was that John did not start this process. John allowed her to see the process. John was not creating the negativity; he was responding to her negativity.

When John was sweet and kind and she was pain free, she was sweet and kind toward John. When John reverted to monster status, she was in monster status, with impatience and anger toward his every move. Hence, her back ache was simply a reminder that she was angry and John was simply mirroring her own emotional imbalances.

This is a contract we make with our children at the moment of their conception. They agree to come to us reflecting back our moods, our pains, our shortcomings and in that moment of reflection, we have an opportunity to change us. As we change by recognizing our “self”, they change with us. It is a miraculous gift intended to help everyone in the family heal at a very spiritual level.

When we choose to stop blaming our children for our own imbalances and instead use that same energy to change our “self” miracles happen. As I become more happy, content and loving with me, the same becomes true for my children. And this energy has no bearing on their ages or where they live. We affect one another over time and distance. So consciously, if I desire my children to be happy, content and loving, I must become that myself.

As soon as Kathy stopped the blame and took responsibility for her own impatience with John, everything changed. Her back ache disappeared and John settled back into his sweet and loving disposition. The ability to see energy and more importantly change energy is a miracle in itself.

Learning to Love our Children’s Differences

I have three children. And I apologize often to my oldest daughter for my lack of parenting skills. Like most parents, my oldest was my guinea pig. I did not mean to screw her up; it happened accidentally.

Shannon was cute and sweet and oh, so smart. So smart, in fact, that we had fluent conversations at 18 months old. She fascinated me. And unconsciously, the more she could do, the more I expected of her. Shan was often way ahead of other children her age, and she worked hard competing with her cousins and peers so she could please me more and more.

What was the outcome of all this competition? She started to recognize that the more she performed, the more proud I became and the more I expected of her. The problem was, Shan could never do enough. No matter how wonderful she was, she wanted to be more wonderful. It was a sick game we were playing.

As she got older, the expectations increased. There were always criticisms and judgments that I forced upon her in what I thought was an effort to help her become who I thought she could be. Our relationship became immersed in criticisms and judgments surrounded by bouts of anger and torment.

No wonder we clashed through life. She was the exact opposite of me and I wanted her to change to meet my expectations. No wonder she lived in disappointments and the feelings of failure. My needs could never be met by her. Because they are my needs, not hers!

Through years of healing together, I one day had this huge realization. Shan is not me. She can never be me; she can only be Shan. What a concept! What took me so long?

And in that moment of realization, I understood that the major difference between me and Shan is that I am a Beech and she is an Agrimony. What does that mean? A Beech is able to see the consequences to their decisions before they make them. An Agrimony, on the other hand, jumps first and then tries to deal with the consequences attached to their decision.

Another major difference is that Beech’s judge and Agrimony’s abuse. At the time I did not recognize my judgments as negative. It was who I had become. I was taught that love was attached to judgment, which of course it’s not. I thought that in order to love Shan I had to judge her. I knew I had to change that belief, but how?

As I recognized our differences more and more, I came to the realization that if I wanted to share in the joys of her life, I had to come to accept and love exactly who she is without any expectation attached to her beautiful Agrimony personality. I also realized that even if her way could never work for me, it somehow always works for her. So why would I want her to change?

As I healed, I could no longer deny that judgment is anger and anger is not love. It was my judgment that always brought out Shannon’s self-abuse, which ultimately turned to abusing me. It was not a pretty picture, but one we had grown accustomed to.

I began to look inwardly and I started to ask myself, “What am I trying to accomplish with my judgments“? My answer came quickly, “I was trying to teach Shan a different way so she could be successful in life.” So why was I not teaching instead of judging?

I immediately apologized to Shannon for all the expectations and judgments I had attached to our relationship. And as we began our new journey, I learned that I was even better at teaching than I was at judging. Wow.. that’s what I came to do.. teach her, not judge her! Our new game was a lot more fun. Shan was learning without judgment and I was no longer being abused.

Through healing together, we have come to understand its okay to love our differences. And that’s the end of this story. Or is it the beginning?

Feeding Our Babies, Naturally

Can it be in the that in the 21st Century, we are struggling with creating laws that give a woman the right to breastfeed in public? Is it possible that some of us are of the opinion that breastfeeding a child is not a beautiful act of love? Are there still people who believe a woman and her baby should be hidden away in a public restroom when it is time to nurse?

What is it that we are afraid to see? Is a woman's breast so unsightly and disgusting? And is it strange that men can expose their breasts with comfort and freedom, yet women must cover themselves? From what dark ages did this belief come from? And is it time now to change this old belief?

Is a society in which a woman feels any shame or fear to feed her child at the moment her child is hungry an ill founded society? Would we deny anyone the right to eat when hungry? Do our infants have less rights than anyone else?

Throwing women off airplanes or charging them with indecent exposure for the normal act of nursing can no longer be an accepted practice in our country. In the land of the free, isn't it time for mother's to be free to feed their babies?

How I Created the New Working Mother Hours

A mother’s identity is based on many aspects. We define ourselves by our families, our co-workers and our friendships. At one time, the family was a huge part of our identity. We were a mother, a wife, a partner, a friend.

Over the past 20 years, we have watched the shift from the family life maintaining 50% of our identity to a mere 5%.Our new identities are based upon how we are viewed by the outside world, more specifically, who are we in the workplace? How does our boss and co-workers feel about us? In order to validate our existence within these new barriers or confines, we have shifted our 50% mother energy into 50% worker bee energy. Little time or energy is left to give care to our family needs as well as the needs of the self.The American households with full time working mothers are now contributing a mere 5% of their energy to their role as Mom.

When we are at home, we are busy getting ready for work, getting ready for dinner and finally getting the children off to school and bed. Weekends are spent catching up on what we could have or should have done but did not have the time to do during the week The question becomes, “Is this what I choose in life?”

I have been gifted with the insight of knowing that to be truly happy I had to learn to balance my worker and mother energy more equally. I loved the jobs I created for myself, but I did not love missing the opportunity to be a part of my children’s lives. I did not want to be away from them more than I was with them.

My oldest daughter is now 30 years old. Prior to her birth, I had worked my way up to an Administrative secretary position to the director of Personnel, Administration and Labor Relations for the State of Rhode Island. He had a top level job and I was his right hand person. I supervised three secretaries and worked closely with him to ensure each division’s effectiveness for the state. I loved the job I created.After becoming pregnant, however, I had this secret desire to work part time after my baby was born. I wanted to spend more time with her than away from her, but my fear of discussing this possibility with my boss kept me from pursuing my desire.And then came the day when my pregnancy leave was official.

I knew that my boss was nervous about my 3 month departure. But we both knew that my baby was taking precedence over my job. When I entered his office to say my good-by’s, I casually mentioned my desire to work part time. He turned and asked what that meant? I told him I would be more than happy to come back to work sooner with limitations. I could be back two weeks after delivery if he agreed to let me work one day a week. From there, I would be willing to slowly work my way back up to twice a week and finally 3 times a week.Before I left his office, the paperwork was signed, sealed and delivered. And so began my first part time job with benefits. Often times he would ask, “When are you coming back full time?”My reply was always the same, “I’m not. It’s important for me to be home with my children.” He finally adjusted to this new reality.

I maintained a 3-day work schedule until I chose to leave state service to open my own business. That choice was also a conscious one that ensured even more time with my children.We opened our first health food store right after Josh was born. Shan, Josh and Holly Beth were brought up in the store. They spent hours learning how to rearrange shelves; I spent hours putting them back. When they were old enough to go to school, the bus dropped them off at the front door of the store. The smile on my face confirmed the joy of having them with me.

Did we have to sacrifice in order to create this reality? Yes. Our lives lacked new cars and fancy furniture and we shopped at discount stores. However, the ability to share in their stories and watch them grow far outweighed any material losses we may have encountered. We loved being together.

Eventually, the stresses of owning our own business took its toll and I opted to enter the world of corporate mentality. Interviewing for a full time job with the intention of not taking one is tricky business. After the initial interview and passing all the “tests”, I was offered the position. But I had to decline. Instead I made the following counter-offer: I could work 9-3 each day because I had to be home in the morning for the children to get on the bus and back in the afternoon to share their day. But while there, I promised to give 8 hours of work for 6-hours of pay. I would take no breaks, no lunch, no phone calls, just an honest commitment of hard work. They took my offer. I lived up to my promise.

For the second time in my life, I was given the opportunity to create a job that fit my own needs. My mother and my work identity were in balance. I had time to create a healthy home life as well as a successful career.

Why was I able to create this reality? Two reasons - first, I had skills that were needed by my employers. Second, I assumed I was entitled to my desires. So I simply asked. How will we get what we want if we don’t ask for it?I know that I was successful because I was happy in my job and in my home.

What we as women have to realize is that we can have both. There is a power in knowing. You just have to know exactly what it is that you desire and then not be afraid to ask for it.

Surviving the Teen Drinking Years

To Drink or Not to Drink, Is that the Question?

I am a mother who survived the teen years of experimentation and confrontation. Often they were the same issues I struggled with many years ago. How do we deal with teenagers who make choices we may not agree with? My experiences taught me there is no right or wrong way to do anything. There are unique circumstances and individual personalities asking for our attention and guidance.

As my children entered the teen years, I was reminded about my own high school experiences of long ago. I was a confusion of two personalities. One personality studied hard to receive an education that would serve me in the future; the other personality partied hard which served my teenage mentality. Sometimes I look back and wonder, “How did I survive?” My father was a strict Italian who believed in strict curfews. A minute past his time limit meant another evening within the confines of my room. Because of this rigid mentality, my friends and I often raced home at ungodly speeds to try and beat the curfew game, often without success. The little communication between the two of us was often harsh as he tried to force his will upon me. However, the force of my own will far outweighed his and our patterns of abuse continued.

In those days of old, the policemen ensured our safety by taking us back to our parents to be dealt with. I was harshly reprimanded and forced to feel ashamed of myself. Still it did not hinder me from experimenting as I tried to learn more and more about who I may one day become.

From my teenage experiences and no formal parenting guidelines, I practiced parenting with my own children. These were the techniques I chose from memories of my past.I chose to never force a curfew upon my children for fear they too would have to speed home to meet my demands. Instead, as a family we discussed each request, and somehow mutually agreed upon a time that served both our needs. I also asked that if they could not meet our agreed upon time, they would never speed home but instead call me and the time would be adjusted. It saved me many nights of fear and worry and managed to keep them safe.

Having partied myself, I reasoned that at some point in their teenage years, they too might choose to experiment with alcohol. I could put the fear of God into them by insisting that I better never find out they were partiers. This scenario would keep me out of the loop and in the dark as to what was going on in their lives. My other thought was to tell them truthfully that I too was once a teenager, so I understood the choices that would confront them. I shared my experiences and when they asked me the tough questions, I chose not to lie. Instead I looked them in the face and told them the truth. My reasoning was simple. If I wanted to hear their truths, I first must share my own.

Knowing that my most important job was to ensure their safety, I made a deal with them. If at any point in their lives they chose to drink, I asked they call me no matter the time of night, and simply say they decided to stay put where they were. In that moment, I knew they were drinking, and they made a decision not to drive. I lived up to my deal and responded, “Ok, I’ll see you in the morning.” I could then sleep peacefully, knowing they made a choice to honor my request which ensured not only their safety but the safety of those with them.Once giving them an opportunity to be truthful with me and themselves, it was not often that I received that phone call, but I was always proud of them when I did. To me, they made the intelligent, mature choice to be safe.

Would a more intelligent and mature choice be to not drink at all? Can our teenage children avoid all the vices we have created in our world? Maybe, but I would have to assume for my children to be perfect I would have to be perfect myself; and truthfully, that is not the case. So if I cannot be perfect, how can I pass judgment on a younger individual, who has neither my experiences nor my wisdom, to be perfect?

I am grateful every day that my children survived their teen years; I cannot say the same of some of their classmates. Each time a classmate was killed for drinking and driving or speeding home to meet a curfew, I prayed that my children learned these lessons well: drinking, driving and speeding had no place behind the wheel. I felt my choices to try and keep them safe were the right choices for my family.

Today, I am proud of the adults they have become. Often they fumbled through their high school years, making many mistakes along the way. It was my job to pick them up with the intent of guiding them in a new and better direction. From my own experiences I learned that I could not force my will upon them. What I could do was honestly share of myself, allowing them the opportunity to do the same. I chose not to judge, but accept them as the imperfect teenagers they were.

Each of us as parents have to choose what is best for our individual family. What feels good for me may not feel good for you. That’s because you did not have the same experiences I did as a teenager. And that’s okay. What’s important is realizing that we each have to live with the choices we make for our children. As I look back, I would not have chosen any other way.