Parenting our children, ourselves, & humanity
The worst is definitely not over, people. Yes, let's take the needed sigh of relief that the calendrical end of this nightmarish year might offer, but remember that, in some ways, the nightmare is just getting started. Hold on for dear life to whatever joy you've got left, and please, please, please, if you're reading this: stay home as much as you can, if you can. Wear a mask. Avoid gatherings. Do it for all of us.
Winter is always coming. But we needn't face it alone.
Every person has roots; celebrate yours, your spouse's, and whichever of humanity's move and inspire you. Perhaps most importantly, know why you do what you do. My dear friends, you are free to choose. Feel empowered. You can have your latkes and eat them too.
"I don't like my body!" My then-2-year-old screamed.
I'm pretty fearless with her, mind you, and it takes a lot for anything she says or does to faze me. But this one stopped my mind for a moment, and in that moment, I raced into the past and ahead to the future.
Small children live in the present moment, in the now. They are in deep, laser focused, inextricably tangled up in their object of engagement. Don't let that little one bogart all the wonder - take a toke next time it passes around. Join that magical mystery tour and strive to see the world purely, as through a child's, once more.
Humans have largely lost their villages, replacing them with screens and the stories they tell. To update the old saying, it takes a village to raise both children and parents alike. Who - or what - is in your village?
The season of giving is upon us, for certain, but the spirit of generosity is alive and well year-round. As parents and caregivers, we can help our children as they experience all kinds of feelings, among them the joy that comes from authentic generosity. When we strengthen their hearts and souls, we strengthen our own in turn.
Here's the best tantrum tip I can offer you, totally free.
Don't spend 40 bucks on toys to distract your child from a normal, healthy part of their development. Period.
Behold, the marimo. A spherical scrap of cuteness that took over my mind like a virus. While they are indeed cute, my marimo madness has another, more deeper explanation, one that takes me to the very heart of what it means to be alive on this planet.
If, or rather, when, they leave us, it doesn't mean they love us any less. And perhaps it means we come to love them even more.
Rebekka Helford, LMFT 