After the Rain

It has been raining cats and dogs here in Seattle the past few days. Cats and dogs. Not drizzle, not light precipitation. Not like a little rain for a few minutes here and there, but a steady downpour. Like you need your windshield wipers going full blast. Not that I drove anywhere. It was too wet and icky to drive anywhere. I went swimming one day this week and I got soaked walking back to my apartment.

It kinda sucked.

In the summer when it was hot and dry, I would have loved some rain to cool things down a bit, rinse the sidewalks of their smut, clean the air.

The past few weeks have been a bit of an emotional roller coaster, with both highs and lows. I was offered a full-time job at the place where I was contracting. Yay! That is welcome news. Claire-Adele is kicking ass, which is great. I've been connecting with friends old and new which has made the roller coaster less traumatic. One new friend -- who I deeply admire -- has such a deep practice of acceptance. I want to learn from her how to stay calm and stable while the rest of my world is upside down.

After the rain, I went for a walk. I was so happy to be outside. It was sparklingly beautiful, almost magical. No, it was just magical. The air was perhaps the cleanest I've ever experienced--it glowed. 

Bait chuckers trying to catch squid

See the splash between the railing and the boat? A giant fish grabbed something out of the water.

Parent's Weekend

I am off to Colorado to see Pedro for Parent's Weekend. It is now probably called "Family Weekend," or something, but anyway, I am off. (Siblings Weekend is a whole different adventure...)

I remember years ago when my parents came to visit me at Northwestern when I was a freshman. I was so excited to show off my dorm and new friends and new life. Look! Clean laundry! Except everything white now is a light shade of lavender because I didn't separate my dark colored clothes from my lights and my purple nightshirt bled over everything. I really loved their visit, even though when my dad was driving to the football game he nearly ran over this guy I had a massive crush on. (Sorry, Tom.)

Saturday evening, my parents came by the dorm. We were sitting in the dorm living room and my dad brought out a deck of cards. 

"Let's play poker," he said to me and a handful of other kids hanging out. They all stared blankly at him. These kids were at NU. We got in because we studied all through high school, not by hanging out at poker parties.

"Okay, I'll teach you," he said. Then, in one of boldest parenting moves ever, my dad turned to Byron. "Do you have beer in your fridge?" Byron's eyes popped open, not sure how to answer that question. Was it a trick? Was he going to get trapped by Lauren's father? My dad clarified his intentions.

"Go get me a beer," my dad said as he was shuffling the deck. And Byron did. At that moment, my dad became the coolest dad in the world.

What will it be like for me to be the parent now? I won't be asking Pedro's roommates for beer or weed. I can dance, but I don't think Pedro wants me crashing college parties with him. Maybe the prevalence of pot, maybe college don't have raging dancing parties where the music loud and the room is hot and smells like Bud Light and Screwdrivers and everyone is jumping up in down in time with the bass beat of New Order's Bizarre Love Triangle.

Parent's Weekend is after mid-terms, when kids have just made it over the first major college hurdle. They are tired and stressed and probably hating life. They may wonder "Why did I sign up for this shit?" What will keep them going? A hug from mom and dad, and weekend without dorm food. A gentle reminder of home, and where you came from, that the people you love and who love you are rooting for you, that they have your back.

And for the parents? What do they think and feel about the experience? 

I guess I'll find out.

"All Better" & Falling

When I skinned my knee growing up, my mom would clean up my wound, put a band-aid on it, and give me a hug and a kiss to "make it all better."

I did the same thing for my kids when they were little, giving them comfort when they were hurt and sad. How easy that seemed to be--almost the easiest part of parenting. Providing comfort is easier than setting boundaries and saying no to the candy aisle. It is easier than bedtime. It is easier than teaching table manners or how to ride a bike, though riding a bike is one way kids get skinned knees in the first place.

Then they grow up. When they skid out emotionally, I so badly want to be able to make it all better, to make the pain go away, to help them avoid suffering. Life isn't designed that way, without out conflict (inner or outer) or turmoil or stress. They have to learn on their own to handle stress and challenges.

This is the hardest lesson I've had in parenting--allowing my kids to fail, allowing them to feel their own pain, to feel the consequences of their own actions. It is hard to believe that all of that is necessary for parenting. When kids fall, they need to pick themselves up, whether they are toddlers or eighteen. This doesn't mean we as parents are heartless monsters, watching them struggle. Growth is in the struggle. Struggle builds resilience. Resilience means they can bounce back when they fall again. It means they know they can pick themselves back up, that they are confident they can pull out of a tailspin.

As much as I love riding my paddleboard, I don't know how to get back on it if I fell off. I've watched a YouTube video where I watched how to get back on, but I paddle such that I don't fall in.

This is bullshit. 

I need to fall in in a safe and shallow-ish spot and figure out how to get back on the board. I would be a braver and more confident paddleboard without the low-grade fear I have of falling in.

Sports can be a good teacher, but sometimes those lessons aren't as transferable to regular life as one would think. Sometimes we can fall skiing, on a bike or off a paddleboard and get back up, but when life hands us lumps at school or at work, we might struggle infinitely more than we did on the mountain or on the lake. 

Why?

Why does fear vary so much? Why can someone feel safe on the mountain but not at a desk? 

I don't know. Today, I have no answers. Only questions. 

I guess the answer is there is no answer. I can't take away their pain or struggles, but I can listen. I can be the quiet person in the back while they process and think and feel, not necessarily in that order. I can bear witness, and help them feel less alone in the struggle. I can tell them I have confidence in them, even when they don't have confidence in themselves.