"Stop. Don't panic. If you cry, you can't think about what you need to do next. Look around you, and find the next place to put your foot." She drew a ragged breath and clutched her dad's hand. Another breath. Then she looked down.
The next logical step was unclear, even to me. We'd chosen this trail because a guide had told us it was perfect for kids. In one sense, it was. They'd climbed the walls of caves and discovered waterfalls, and the views were enough to make even little boys pause.
But this trail was much too dangerous for small children. The boulders went straight up, the water below was fast and cold. For the last hour we'd picked our way through uneven rocks muddied with ice and slush. My kids are accustomed to the hard work of hiking, but this was too much for any of us. All the same, here we were. We'd gotten up the steep embankment somehow. Now we had to get down it.
I looked again at my little girl catching her breath beside her dad. She wasn't crying because she was scared. So far, her fears are limited to Swiper the Fox and the monster she insists lives in our laundry room. She doesn't understand how easily something could go wrong right now. Instead, she cried because she thought she couldn't do it. We knew she was wrong.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Sorta Crunchy's post on the Highly Sensitive parent is making the rounds this week. Did you read it? Are you Highly Sensitive, too? I skimmed it and quickly realized I'm not. In fact, it's safe to say I am the Highly Insensitive Parent. I am the queen of throwing a disgusting diaper in the kitchen trash because "we're about to take it out anyway," then allowing it to fester a few hours before I actually take out the trash. Also? I love to hear kids playing. The squealing, the pounding on the floors, the sound of a bucket of toys upturned in another room - productive, cooperative play is the sound of success. It never bothers me. I read about the experience of Highly Sensitive parents, and I just could not relate.
Even so, it changed me.
Even so, it changed me.
Monday, November 3, 2014
|image by TurtleCraftyGirl|
“I am irritated. I have no time for everything I need to do, want to do, and pretty much feel guilty whatever I choose to do no matter what.” I took a deep breath. I apologized. I silently prayed for grace and caught myself when my mind started to wander again.
Right now, I'm the busiest person I know. I meet people all the time who feel exactly the same way. Frankly, I don't know anyone who isn't juggling too much or feels like their plate is too full most of the time.
Multiple times a week I run into the “Who’s Busier?” conversation trap with my friends, family, co-workers, or classmates. As a wife, mom of two young children, blogger, full-time grad school student, part-time retail associate, and author editing my first book…well, let’s just say the competition for “Who’s Busier?” is steep with me.