the bee hive chronicles

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Category: kids (Page 2 of 3)

#34 – And….Gratitude….

December 29, 2019 /

As partly documented here, on this blog, 2019 was a year of struggles and challenges. For Bee Hive, myself – personally, and, I believe, for many others. And, while I am truly pooped from it all – and perhaps a little scarred; rather then kicking it in the rear on its way out, I would prefer to smudge out 2019 with gratitude. And hope. Because, there is always light. To lean into.

My muses, inspirations, and in 2019 – on some mornings – my motivating factors for getting out of bed in the morning – are Olive and Cash. When Bee Hive first opened – they were both very small. Olive was just turning four – Cash was one and a half. They have always loved the store – but they never quite had the staying power to be there for hours – just hanging out reading or whatever. Olive has, actually for the past few years – but never Cash. After half an hour – he’s ready to leave. This year, that changed. Cash has become just as voracious a reader as his sister, and now all he wants to do is be at the Bee Hive. At home, his new favorite game is Bee Hive – a phone rings and he answers “Hello, Bee Hive, this is Christian – how may I help you?” He answers people’s questions, and using the Bee Hive website – helps them order books. (I wonder if perhaps he is plotting a take-over?) Olive is now 12 and I am already planning her summer around her being at the store – getting to know the computer system, becoming comfortable around customers, and perhaps filling in here and there. She is literally a walking catalog of most of the books in the store and would be an amazing bookseller. It is the vision I’ve always had for Bee Hive. And, for Olive and Cash. For them to truly be apart of it. I feel that they will go on to do other beautiful things with their lives and I have no intention of forcing any sort of family business on them – but, for this moment in time – I am so grateful that they are filling the Bee Hive with their sweet enthusiasm and big, bold interest and truly love and appreciate it. And, that all that Olive wanted for Christmas was books. And, a Bee Hive gift certificate.

“Let’s give ourselves a big, fat break – and read a book in the new year. Read ourselves to safety. To sanity. To comfort. To freedom. To emotionally healthy kids. All of it is, literally, a book away…”

It took me a while to figure it out – because I tend to get attached to people – but kids grow up. I believe the first round of Santa Fe kids who grew up with the store since it opened eight years ago – have outgrown the Bee Hive. Sadly. I miss them. Of course. But – and again, it took me a while to figure this out – there is a whole new crew of kids! They are now coming to story times or our writing workshops. Or, coming by the store regularly to pick up the next book in their current series. And, this crew will be with us for a while. And then, gradually, they will stop coming. And I will miss them. And be sad. And then new faces will start coming! Thank goodness for the cycle of life. For better or for worse.

Books. Of course. God, I am so grateful for books. The stories that connect us. Validate us. Make us feel not so alone. Or weird. Or crazy. Or whatever. And the gorgeous books that we are so lucky to have being published now, are incredible tools. For our kids. For ourselves. Let’s give ourselves a big, fat break – and read. Read ourselves to safety. To sanity. To comfort. To freedom. To emotionally healthy kids. All of it is, literally, a book away…

I am so grateful for moments of In Real Life connection. It feels so valuable. I don’t care who it is with. A friend. My kids. A stranger. Just – connection. I want to connect – and not about the stupid weather. How are you? I mean, really, how are you? Cause, you know, life is hard, and connection is what gets us through. As always – I am grateful for the lovely customers who come in the store – I think we’ve gotten each other through some rough days. Perhaps, without even knowing it.

Santa Fe! I was driving through town, there was fresh snow and lots of happy holiday tourists, filling the streets. Loving our awesome restaurants. Spending money in our shops. Skiing on our super fun mountain. Just so delighted to be in this unique town. Because, I was reminded – it is a pretty great place. We are truly fortunate to live here. And we are truly fortunate to have the visitors who descend upon town during certain times of the year. We would not survive without them. And, they remind us. Of all that we have.

So, here’s to a fresh, shiny year.

A beautiful, brand new decade.

As always…I am hopeful.

But, mostly – I am grateful.

 

 

#31 – The Agony and The Ecstasy (In Honor of Mother’s Day)

May 3, 2019 /

I recently requested that my daughter do her library holds all at once – at the beginning of the week – so that we could make our trips to the library on a weekly basis, rather then on a daily basis. I asked this of her because even though I am, for sure, her Uber driver – first and foremost – it would be helpful for me if we could keep my job – as her Uber driver – as efficient as possible. Because, you know, there are many, many other jobs that are also in need of my attention.

There is the Uber driving. And the shopping. The cooking. The cleaning – on occasion. The nursing. The hair brushing. The refereeing. The diagnosing. The laundry-ing. The counseling. The singing. The story telling. The soothing. The listening. The hoop-shooting. The hand-holding. The game and performance attending. The supporting. The reminding. The question-answering. The dancing. The reading. The out-the-door ushering. The adventuring. The learning. The encouraging. The snuggling. The guiding. The requesting. The math assisting. The pancake flipping. The crying. The reassuring. The explaining. The laughing. The breathing.

The loving….

It is all complex. And challenging. And beautiful.

And very, very real.

My own experience as someone’s child didn’t lend me my ideal models. And so, I have struck out on this parenting endeavor to be the kind of mother, to Cash and Olive, that I always wanted for myself.

It has been a little like hiking on a trail you’ve never been on before – you don’t know what is going to be up ahead. Or where you’ll be able to stop for lunch. Or what sort of weather you may have.

And while the trail has definitely been steeper in some places then others.

It is all complex. And challenging. And beautiful.

And very, very real.

It has been the most gorgeous outing of my life.

Because while I may play all the aforementioned roles – my children also play many, many roles.

They make me laugh. And think. And consider things. They awe me with their talent. Their curiosity is contagious. They remind me to tread lightly on this earth. They are my Number One fans. They keep me company. They inspire me. They give me kisses, and big, huge, real hugs. They energize me. They make me want to make the world a just and fair place. They brighten my days. They remind me to be playful. They keep me present. They stoke the desire in me to be good. And true. They fill my heart. And strengthen my determination.

I so appreciate that there is a day to honor Mothers and all that they do. All that they are.

But, for me, it is my children, who have nurtured me. Healed me. Coaxed me to grow.

They are my greatest teachers.

It is such an honor to be their Uber driver.

And to hold each others’ hands through the joy and the pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#30 – “What is a record store?”

February 27, 2019 /

The other day, while driving, we passed a kid walking down the street with headphones on. My son, Cash, declared, “I want a Walkman.”

“To play discs or cassettes?” I asked.

“Cassettes,” he replied
(To get an idea of my 8-year-old son’s precocious interest in music, please see: The Bee Hive Chronicles #6 – The Rock History Schooling of a 7-year-old – http://www.thebeehivechronicles.com/6-the-rock-history-schooling-of-a-7-year-old/ )

“What are cassettes?” Olive asked

I then went on to explain what cassettes were. And how you buy them in record stores. Same as records or cds.

The next question just about left me speechless…

“What is a record store?”

My younger self – the one that spent many, many, many hours of her adolescent and young adult life flipping through bins and bins of records, cassettes, and cds in record stores in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Portland and any town or city I happened to be in between – would have thought you were joking if you would have told her that some day her daughter would ask the question – “What is a record store?”

And so, I have given this a lot of thought.

Of course, I am partially to blame for my daughter’s lack of knowledge (Cash was up on record stores) of what a record store is. Both my kids’ deep interest in music has so effortlessly been accommodated by the ease of Apple Music and Spotify. Whatever they are curious about or whatever I want to play for them, so simple to access. Playlists created with a simple tap (Oh – the sweet toil of making a mixed tape! Such a labor of love….). That I have failed to educate them on what my own music hunting experience was up until not that, relatively, long ago.

“My younger self….would have thought you were joking if you would have told her that some day her daughter would ask the question – “What is a record store?”

As I fight to sustain my business, an independent book store, it is a bitter pill to swallow – one that feels a bit like foreshadowing – to realize that record stores are not as common as they once were. That the experience of your heart stopping from excitement when you discover, as you thumb through records or flip through plastic-encased cassettes or cds, an obscure album  by your favorite band or a single you didn’t know existed by a musician you love – that that experience is something totally different now. That experience now – is a little less dimensional. And without that connection to discovery. Connection to the music-lovers flipping next to you. Connection to the committed diehards who run and work in record stores. And, and this is a big one,  without the delicious anticipation. The anticipation of getting to where ever it is that you will play that precious record or cassette or cd – for the first time.

I feel that Olive has the same awe and obsession and attachment to book stores as, perhaps, I did for record stores. She literally goes into the Bee Hive and just smells the books. Opens them up and breathes in. Though she is eleven, she studies the illustrations of each picture book she hasn’t seen before. She will sit in a corner and get completely lost in the magic of chapter books for hours. And then – she goes home and compiles the list of which books she is going to read when and where, and in what order.

What I would love, is for her to not have to  experience her kids asking her one day – “What is a book store?”

But is it inevitable?

I don’t believe so.

I truly don’t.

I have faith.

Faith that we are aware enough as a species to not allow books to become charming relics that hipsters use to decorate their houses with. But, rather, we will hold on tight and they will continue to delight us. Teach us. Nurture us. Connect us….

And book stores will remain the places we go to in order to be around the people. Our people. The ones that open books and breath deeply. The ones that go away with that sweet anticipation of the moment they will get to start reading. The ones who may not have been delighted by a story the same way you were, but respect your perspective nonetheless. The ones that just – get it.

A quote – by a poet that I love so much – has been lately playing over and over in my head a lot. And so, I have claimed it as my mantra…

“Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light”
— Dylan Thomas

For the sake of my future grandchildren and all the beautiful moments, life-changing connections, and profound experiences that I want for them –

I will never stop raging.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#28 – Gratitude (part three)

October 9, 2018 /

The media has been feeding us an endless stream of really challenging news, for a long time.

And it feels as if there may be no end in sight.

So, once again – to balance things out – a random list of things that are pretty great…

The swath of neon brilliance that blankets the earth for a brief period of time every fall, is enough to make you breathe a great big sigh of grateful disbelief.  Mother Nature is an incredibly benevolent magician to provide us with this show, and the light that it casts, year after year.

Recently, we were on a raspberry picking expedition in wondrous (see above) northern New Mexico. On the drive home – windblown, an excellent soundtrack on, books in their laps, bellies full of berries, a riot of scenic color outside the window – Olive made an indiscernible sound. Cash and I both asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered, with a serene smile on her face. “I’m just happy.”
A pause.
“Me, too,” said Cash
“Meee, too.” I concurred
At the end of the day, aren’t joyful humans, decent humans? Just fill our kids up with simple things: awesome music, good stories, fresh food, and adventures. Perhaps keep them away from all they don’t need to know, in the moment, for as long as possible. Keep the anticipation. The magic. The gratitude. The wonder of it all – alive as long as possible. Simple tools. And maybe the only ones our kids need in order to lead us into a hopeful future.

“At the end of the day, aren’t joyful humans, decent humans? Just fill our kids up with simple things: awesome music, good stories, fresh food, and adventures.”

The other day, a man wandered into the Bee Hive. It was during a particularly rough patch in current events. He asked me, “Are there kids’ books that teach children to be decent humans?”
It caught me off guard a bit. “Um.” I looked around the store. All I saw were golden tomes of acceptance. Courage. Perspective. Compassion. Decency.
“I believe so.”
“God, I hope so.”
And off he went.
I’ve given it a lot of thought since that encounter. And I truly believe that kids’ books – for all different age ranges – are where it’s at. The good ones – and there are countless – are full of characters of all different ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds, family situations, mental and physical health conditions, gender and sexual orientations, and in various stages of the awkward, challenging, confusing adolescence process. These sensitive, broad-ranging, wide-scoped stories are preparing our kids to be all-accepting, open-hearted, compassionate, non-judgemental individuals.

There is this song by Jim Morrison that I sort of happened upon. It is a rich, twangy, melodic instrumental that landed in my Spotify song library. Every time it comes on – its joyful string perfection. It came on in the car recently and Cash sighed – “I love this song.”
“Me too.”
“Where did you find it?” he asked
“I don’t remember. But its a pretty good score, right?”
“So good.”
Those little, unexpected gifts that find their way into your life – songs, people, a quote, an experience. You’re not sure how or where or when. But you do know that your life is so much more lovely since they arrived. And you can’t quite remember what you did without them.

Gouda goat cheese shredded onto a slice of fresh, crusty bread – put under the broiler so that the cheese gets melt-y and crispy, but the bread stays soft
= pure gratitude.

#26 – Olive’s Happy Place

August 2, 2018 /

Now that my daughter, Olive, has figured out how to access the Public Library’s computer system from home – it is not uncommon for us to go by the library on a daily basis for her to run in and grab her reserved books. There have been times that I’ve suggested we skip it and go another day.

“But, Mommy. The library is my Happy Place.”

“Well, actually…the Bee Hive is my Happy Place. The Library is my second Happy Place.”

Right.

How the heck can I argue with that?

And, honestly, those are two of my Happiest – indoor – Places too. Bee Hive being first of course.

When I was in college I spent hours in The Stacks. Hiding away among the cool, countless shelves of  books – I think I did homework? It is perhaps the reason I was an English major – just so I’d have a reason to be absorbed by the library. I then later worked in the library. And always was the first to volunteer to shelve. I much rather interact with the books then my fellow students. The books offered comfort and flow. The fellow students – not really at all.

I am aware on a constant basis that the Bee Hive is a Happy Place for potentially many people – primarily of the kid variety.

When parents are trying to get their kids to leave and maybe the kids aren’t ready to  – they are in a state of complete absorption – and maybe the kids get upset and refuse to leave using their own abilities, so maybe the parents have to pick up the kids and physically drag them out of the store. And it may be that the kids are screaming. That has maybe happened once or twice.

Who wants to ever leave a Happy Place? A place where you feel totally comfortable and present.

I totally get it though. They have found a Happy Place. And who wants to ever leave a Happy Place? A place where you feel totally comfortable and present.

I have moments when the Bee Hive is a source of complete and utter anxiety. How am I going to pay the rent? How will I cover the taxes? Is that check going to clear? It is often in the depth of the night that this anxiety comes on. And then, the next morning I walk in the store, I breath in the smell of the books and am embraced by the bright energy. I immediately feel at ease in my Happy Place, and I know – all will be okay.

Because Happy Places carry the responsibility of not letting their people down. Of being around the corner when you need them to be. Of providing sanctuary and relief from the rest of the world. Happy Places aren’t allowed to go away.

Olive is very much her own person. But she and I definitely share Happy Places in common. And I am in full support of having specified Happy Places – even if that means taking daily trips to the Public Library. That Olive has places where she feels at ease and joyful and totally present is a huge blessing.

We gotta fight for the Happy Places.

Without them – there would just be a bunch of ordinary places.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#25 – “I Wish I Was A Super Hero”

June 27, 2018 /

My son Cash has been a fan of super heroes for as long as I can remember. Anything that can leap tall buildings in a single bound; has Spidey sense; or is able to shape shift is pretty mesmerizing to his eight-year-old sensibilities. And, truly – when you think about it – there isn’t much that is cooler then super-human powers.

The release of The Incredibles 2 was on par with holiday or birthday excitement at my house. And when the big day finally came – it didn’t disappoint.  As we were walking out of the theater, Cash said with a weighty wistfulness in his voice, “I wish I was a super hero.”

Sigh.

Don’t we all?

And man. We could really use some super heroes. There is serious evil at large that needs to be battled. Hard. Unfortunately, I do not possess the proper genes to pass to my kids the power to open portals or be invincible. But I do have the power to instill in them a sense of justice, the desire for peace, and knowledge of equality and fairness.

I’m not sure that either one of my kids could handle being exposed to the news and the actual reality of our current dystopic world. But I don’t believe that they need to be privy to the details of current events to be super heroes in training. Their day-to-day existence thus far has shown them that lack of justice, bullying, unfair favoritism or inequality, and chaos are very real. Not to mention pollution and the unstable state of our suffering environment.

And, truly – when you think about it – there isn’t much that is cooler then super-human powers.

Our kids are the ones who will be on the front lines battling an increasingly precarious world. They are being set up to have some pretty overwhelming stuff on their plates: Figuring out how to heal our weakening planet; global financial challenges; unstable immigration issues; and the illness and disease that are becoming byproducts of a widening lack of connection among humans. Much like the super heroes we love to adore – they will be serious soldiers for peace and justice.

It is our duty to prepare them.

And how do we train these future soldiers? There is no Hogwarts or Camp Half-Blood to do the job for us. Although, I do think stories of battling evil monsters go a long way. Total inspiration. There is a reason kids go around wearing capes and waving wands – Halloween season or not.

What if we stay focused on instilling a sense of fairness and standing up for the little guy? Compassion and a yearning for creating justice? Peace and taking the high road? Awareness and a sense for action when necessary? Respect for Mother Earth and a desire to tread lightly?

These are full-on super powers. Necessary super powers. Ones that come from both the intellect and the soul. This is the reason we study history and mythology. Not for the devastating, gruesome details of dark times, but for those that battle the dark. For the heroes.

God we need more heroes.

There is definitely enough dark to go around.

It is possible that perhaps our world will be more like lovely fantasy rather than grim dystopia by the time our kids are the grown-ups. I hope so.

But still. The training won’t go to waste. Rather then soldiers – we’ll have a world full of decent human beings.

 

 

#24 – Poof!

May 31, 2018 /

Slippery.

It runs through your fingers and there is no grabbing a hold of it. And somehow – I’m not sure how – it only continues to get more so.

And so. I feel as if there is no fighting it. The years are not getting any slower. More methodical. Or luxurious in their passing.

In some ways, I feel as if I can do and be an awful lot in the eyes of my kids. I can have super human strength. Make something yummy out of not much. Conjure up comfort with a song. Make them feel loved and seen and heard, perhaps, when no one else can.

But. Damn it.

I can not slow time.

As much as I wish I could stop it like Super Man can stop speeding locomotives. I can not.

The years are not getting any slower. More methodical. Or luxurious in their passing.

Cash and Olive are bigger and older than they ever have been. Their elementary school years are relentlessly dissolving.  And as much as I try for it not to – it pains me.

And so.

I do what I can to keep the time I am with them full and present and…calm.

I try to savor and hear every word they say, knowing that it is possible, that very soon – they won’t want to tell me anything. We are engrossed in the magic of the classics – I am literally trying to get in as many as we can before they start to shun Heidi and Anne for romance and spy novels. I watch Camp Kikiwaka with them because they love it – and I find it totally amusing (Disney series – Netflix – summer camp), and I rather sit next to them on the couch, eating popcorn, then get laundry done any day. We shoot hoops, take walks, and watch for sunsets, full moons, and moving clouds.

And I try to not get ahead of myself. I try to not be anxious about what’s coming. I try to trust that Harry Potter and Laura Ingalls and Peter Hatcher and the Penderwicks and countless other upstanding, badass, beautiful role-models they have saturated themselves with day after day, have been serving them well.

And I keep them close for now.

Working to wrap my brain around the fact that they are their own strong, creative, thoughtful people who I can not keep contained. And when they fly away – they will do amazing good for all that they touch.

I will, of course, be here with popcorn and songs and open arms…

Always.

 

#23 – Magic

May 6, 2018 /

My memory of The Secret Garden from reading it as a kid is foggy. I know I was enchanted by it, but in a dark – sort of over-grown garden in early 20th Century England sort of way. I have not revisited it since. It is a book that I’ve had on my list to read with Olive and Cash and I figured I’d rediscover it as they experienced it for the first time.

And so, not too long ago – we read together The Secret Garden…

It is a simple story about a not very pleasant ten-year-old girl who goes to live with her wealthy uncle at his Downton Abbey-sized home in England after her parent’s fall victim to a cholera epidemic where they lived in India. After a pretty rough transitional period, she finds love, freedom, and companionship she hadn’t experienced with her neglectful parents who left her to be raised by servants and nannies.  Along the way she discovers her 12-year-old cousin, who has been shut up in a room in the enormous house. After Colin’s mother died ten years ago – his bereaved father couldn’t deal with his young son who reminded him too much of the wife he was very much in love with, so he left him to the care of doctors and maids. Colin does not walk, and believes he is sickly, and not going to make it past childhood. Mary also makes friends with the awesome sprite-like Dickon – the maid’s maid brother who is literally followed by animals – a la Disney’s Snow White. The three of them – Mary, Dickon, and Colin secretly transform the garden that was Colin’s mother’s favorite place and locked up for ten years, into a lush, lovely sanctuary once again. Oh – and Colin walks for the first time. Ever.

All of this is magic enough. But it doesn’t quite cover the actual magic that is The Secret Garden.

To back up a little…As Mary and Colin spend more and more time together and they both become stronger and more aware, and more like children, really – they discover that Colin’s illness and inability to walk and imminent death – does not at all have to be the reality. They figure out that they can actually create a different world. One where Colin is healthy and joyful and out of the confines of the room he has spent the last ten years in. They start to believe in the power of their state of mind and what they believe.

“Of course, there must be lots of Magic in the world,” said Colin wisely one day, “but people don’t know what it is like or how to make it. Perhaps the beginning is just to say nice things are going to happen until you make them happen.”

“Every morning and evening and as often in the day-time as I can remember I am going to say, ‘Magic is in me! Magic is making me well! I am going to be as strong as Dickon, as strong as Dickon!”

Eventually, Colin’s father returns from his endless travels and discovers his son is vibrant and walking. And that the secret garden is blossoming again. He too, is transformed by the magic.

It is all quite mystical. And lovely. And effective. Olive and Cash were totally hooked. They – and I – were mesmerized by both Mary and Colin’s progression from unpleasant, unloved, sad kids, to kids who – with the help of strong, kind Dickon and going from being shut-ins to being surrounded by fresh air and the wonders of the outdoors – totally turned their health and perspectives, and experiences around in order to become robust, positive, wise individuals.

The aspect that I appreciate most about The Secret Garden, and why it is a classic still read regularly over 100 years after it was originally published – is the magic. Yes, the Magic of the power of thought that is mentioned in the book, but also the magic of it all. The magic of the friendship between the kids. The magic of all that is transformed and brought back to vibrancy – the garden and Colin and Mary – with love. The magic of Dickon and his trail of animals. The magic of them all being willing to believe. The magic of literature. The magic of reading. The beautiful magic that is often only found in kids’ stories. The magic that Olive and Cash experienced through Mary, Colin, and Dickon. This is magic that is becoming harder and harder to find.

The Sunday we finished The Secret Garden, we discovered my car was dead in our driveway. Huge stress and inconvenience. I needed to get it from out of the driveway to a mechanic. So plans were made to have it towed the next day.

I woke up that morning and started saying to myself with much conviction – I AM LUCKY.  I AM LUCKY. I AM LUCKY.  After getting the kids to school, I, by chance – even though the car was scheduled to be towed, got in my car and tried to turn it on. It started! I was lucky!

When I told Olive and Cash after school what happened, we wholeheartedly agreed.

It was definitely magic….

✨✨✨✨

 

 

 

 

 

 

#20 – Girl Power

February 9, 2018 /

As with most things, my daughter, Olive, has taken the slow, methodical approach to sleep-overs. She has been in no hurry to participate in them whatsoever. I, on the other hand, have been patiently (sort of) waiting for the opportunity to host a crew of giggling girls for, what I imagined in my mind, a night of popcorn eating and nail-painting. So when it came time to plan a celebration for her tenth birthday, I thought it the perfect opportunity to encourage a slumber party. She agreed! The time had finally come! For Olive. Not for me. Of course.

As a parent, obviously we notice the growth and changes and progressions our kids make. There are the clear points by way of actual milestones – they talk, they walk, they go to school, they read, etc – where they go from baby to toddler to little kids. The little kid to big kid transition, I have been a little more resistant to. Because, like I mentioned, Olive has been so methodical with her steps. She is in no hurry to grow up. And I am in no hurry for her to stop being my little girl… And so, while I’ve noticed her increasing awesomeness, it was having five fourth-grade girls (Plus Cash, who is so enamored with the ladies – he is literally a heart-eyed emoji 😍 – that he is an honorary member of the club. In his annoying 7-year-old boy way.) together in our house that opened my eyes to the magic that is transpiring.

Having not yet hosted a sleep over, I wasn’t sure what to expect. We planned the food and movie-watching, other than that, my goal was to leave the girls alone. But our house being quite small – it was more like being a fly on the wall. Resisting the desire to sit down and join them, Cash and I left the girls to their own dinner party. Story-telling and secret-sharing ensued. Crushes were divulged, experiences shared, and lots and lots of cracking up. Just pure joy to be in each other’s company.

It was having five fourth-grade girls together in our house that opened my eyes to the magic that is transpiring.

After a late night up watching The Sound Of Music – and a brief history and geography lesson after. I was awakened the next morning by hysterical laughing and the high-pitch chaos of five girls talking over each other. I just laid there and took in the sound bites of their board-game playing. It was a happy Sunday morning wake-up call I hadn’t experienced before.

Olive has this marble run thing that has a million parts that you use to build mazes for marbles to roll down. She has gotten it out once or twice since she’s had it, but otherwise its been left neglected. After pancakes, somehow it got taken out. The girls spent the rest of the morning working together, totally engrossed, in creating these marble runs. There were a couple of moments here and there where someone wanted a piece someone else had or the marbles were all being collected by one person or something like that, but otherwise I silently watched in awe at the collaboration and team work.

I know there is much that lies ahead in the experience of raising a girl. And I know that as girls get older the friendship dynamics can be challenging. There will be devices and social media to deal with. It’s all out there and big and scary. But right now. In this moment, my girl and her girls, are not there. They are not little kids anymore either. They are in this sweet spot. This spot where they really, truly like each other. Where they trust one another with their secrets. Where they support each other and have each other’s backs. Where they play and create together.

Rather then seeing these girls, most of whom I’ve known much of their lives, as the little girls I still want them to be, I got the amazing opportunity to see them as they are. Smart. Feisty. Funny. Loving. Badass.

There is nothing contrived or inauthentic about them. They are pure girl power.

Ever since that sleepover, I’ve rested a little easier knowing that someday – they are going to be the ones in charge.

 

 

#17 – Tribal Considerations

December 20, 2017 /

As a species, solitude is not something we respond to naturally. Yes, we can get used to it. Or, at least learn to live with it. But we are not innately a solitary species. We are pack animals. Our comfort lies in connection. And a sense of belonging. Being a part of something.

When a hurricane occurs and devastates huge swaths of a community – people respond in the most magnificent, heroic ways. And they don’t just cherry-pick who they try to help. The color of a person’s skin or their religious beliefs don’t play into whether or not others try to come to their aid.  It’s just – “They are one of us and they need help and we will do what it takes to save them.” People aren’t rescued from burning buildings because they match a certain demographic criteria. It is because, as a human race, if one of ours is in trouble or threatened, it is our natural response to do what we can to help. Why it takes a disaster or near-death experience for this to kick in, I’m not sure. Perhaps being in that completely focused state, strips all away except what really matters.

We are tribal to the core.

I don’t believe being involved on social media would be considered the same as being a part of a tangible community. Or texting as the same as a face to face conversation with someone. It is the In Real Time connections that satisfies the needs we have as humans to feel significant and seen.

Something to consider…

I heard a story recently about a baby who was trying to get the attention of his mother who was occupied on her phone. He was doing all that he could to get her to see him. Pay attention to him. She kept batting him away. Finally, the baby grabbed the phone. Getting the message that that was what he needed the attention from, he gave up on his mom and tried for that instead.

We live in an increasingly impersonal, solitary world. And it goes against the grain of our natural make up. If we allow human connection to disintegrate, there will be nothing left but a very fractured human race. And babies who turn to phones for love and attention.

We are tribal. We need one another to feel a sense of belonging, to grow, and to be nourished.

It’s very easy to be swept up in our day-to-day routines and habits. In the convenience of all that has been made more and more convenient. But another year is coming to an end. And I can’t help but speculate if that means we are that much closer to losing our sense of that which makes us human. Our pack sensibility. Our desire to be a part of something that is real and tangible. That feeling that makes us truly feel alive.

I gotta believe we can achieve that without a devastating disaster taking place. Or, I wonder if that’s what it takes these days to come together as a community?

Something to consider is taking a vow to never allow our kids to believe that phones are the real source for love and attention. I think that, perhaps, if we are mindful of that, it could, at least,  give us a sense of hope for where the future of our tribe is headed.

 

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