Simple does not mean easy.

Simple does not mean lacking.

Simple does not mean plain.

Simple can free you.

“If Resistance couldn’t be beaten, there would be no Fifth Symphony, no Romeo and Juliet, no Golden Gate Bridge.  Defeating Resistance is like giving birth.  It seems absolutely impossilbe until you remember that women have been pulling it off successfully, with support and without, for fifty million years.”

Stephen Pressfield in The War of Art

If it did not matter, there would be no resistance. Whatever lies behind the resistance is whatever is next.  Embrace it. Move through it. Follow it.  Get to the other side.  The only other option is indifference.

After listening and recognizing much of my own life in her rant, I had a moment of truth, “Why not you?”  The silence was deafening.  I was quiet because I was reflecting on my own life and why shouldn’t my life be the way it is?  She was quiet, I believe, because she was trying hard not to bite my head off.  I can hear her now with someone new, “I was talking to a friend who was sooo unsupportive.  Why me?”

What she may never realize is that I was being truly supportive, opening up a conversation that she may not be able to have with anyone else.  A two-way conversation about the reality of today.  Her reality.  My reality.  Why not you?  Why not me?

This question also pertains to all the good in life.  Like the random day last week when I came home from my early morning trail run and my son had made me chocolate dipped strawberries, a bowl of Cheerios, and my favorite tea.   All because he thinks I am the best mom in the world.  Why not me?

When life does not seem to be going your way, perhaps it’s best to change your perspective as opposed to your direction.

“Deadlines make people do dumb things. … Never mind that they had two weeks… the last fifteen minutes are all they are concerned with.  If it’s important enough to spend an hour complaining about, it’s certainly important enough to spend four minutes to just do it in the first place.”

Thanks, Seth.  I will remember your words, “If it’s important enough to spend an hour complaining about, it’s certainly important enough to spend four minutes to just do it in the first place,” next time I set something aside because there is “plenty of time” before the deadline.  To read Seth’s blog, visit sethgodin.com.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes.  I did not want to even imagine what he might be up to.  And at this point, I thought to myself, he is old enough to know better.  If he gets hurt, that will be the last time he does whatever he is doing.  Cynical parenting at it’s finest.

“HHHHUuuuuuuuummmmmppppphhhhhhh!”  THUD!

‘Huuuuuummmmmmppphphpphphphhphphphp!” THUD!

“HHHHuuuuuuummmmmmpphphphphp!! THUD!

Over and over.  Just at the moment when I did not think I could possibly ignore it for one more nano second, the THUD! was followed with a very triumphant, “Conquered!”

“What?” I called, still not wanting to move from my cynical relaxed spot.

“I conquered it!” Kamden called out victoriously.

Laughing to myself, I had to get up and see what it was he had conquered.

I entered the kitchen and there was no mess.  Nothing out of order.  I looked at him quizzically.  He stood smiling, so very proud of himself.  “Let me see what you conquered,” I asked.

With that he backed up, took in a deep breath, launched into two big steps and lept up toward the ceiling.  Which he touched.  “There.  I did it again.  I conquered it.”

Taking his head in my hands, I looked deep into his chocolatey brown eyes.  “Yes, you did.”   Trying over and over.  Setting a goal and not giving up until he achieved it.  Whether it be snapping, jumping to touch a ceiling, multiplication facts, or a 6 minute mile, kids just keep pressing on, jumping up, over and over and over again until it is conquered.  Then they move on to the next.  Now that is inspirational.

Ultimately, what is causing the friction, the tension, and the power struggle is MY inability to give up controlling every single aspect of their lives.    Just in the last six months our relationship has gone from my being in charge of them completely, to my being a mom who is there to help them navigate their own way from here on out.    Last week, I could not just be a “helper.”  I was holding lord over them, desperately clinging to my “Captain” role.  This is my ship!  I am in charge!  You will do as you are told!  It is my way or the highway!  You will defer to me!  Yup, pretty much trying to play God and have them surrender themselves and their will to ME.

Self-righteous and controlling are two words that now come to mind.  Therapy is another one.  How much future therapy have I caused them in the past seven days?  Enough to warrant a therapy scholarship?  Ah, if only there were such a thing, I would apply not only for them, but for myself as well.

But the best therapy is for me to realize that while they are still dependant upon me as I will always be their mom and hopefully always one of their “go to” people, they must now also find and depend upon own their own source, their own voice.   Prior to this moment in time, I was their captain – their voice, protector, guide, and cheerleader.  The one who kept them on the straight and narrow path.   Now, today, my role has shifted.  I am here to guide them as they find their own voice, a voice they can become dependent upon.   They will make their own mistakes.  I can’t stop them.  They will have their own experiences.  I can’t control them.   I have to let go, a little bit more each day, so that one day they can stand on their own as the bright, compassionate, wonderful young men that they are becoming.

So in this moment, I choose to shift my focus.  I will no longer look at them and see the past or literally fight with them to keep the past in the present.  I will not look at this as a loss.  Yes, I will grieve the babies and the life that we have lived for the last 13 years.  But I will grieve it privately, and quickly, so that I may move into the joy as I look forward toward the possibilities before them.  The possibilities of who they are becoming.  Who they are becoming because I was their Captain.  Who they will become because I am now just a guide.

Three days of missed school (so far), taking-for-ever-doctor appointment, pharmacy trip, pain medication because I ran out trip, soup making, nursing him better, rubbing his back – all of it sent me into a panic of overwhelm and frustration because I was on deadline this week.  And then….

Lying on the sofa, weak from strep throat, exhausted from the medication and inability to sleep or eat well, Kamden said to me quietly, “I am so glad you are my mom.”

I stopped from rushing his just-in-case-bowl and cold (now warm) towel back into the kitchen and focused on his little sweaty face.  “Really?”  I said.

“Yup.  You always take such good care of me.”  He closed his eyes, then opened them again at half-mast.  “Thank you,” he whispered with love and fell back into his healing slumber.

I stood staring at him.  All of sudden he seemed so little, so vulnerable and innocent.  He seemed 10.  And I was brought back to reality – a reality for which I am eternally grateful that I can be the one who gets to let everything else go and be at home with him when he is sick.  I get to be the one who takes him to the doctor and hold his head as he slumps over, unable to stay awake in those horribly uncomfortable chairs.  He climbs onto my lap for comfort.  Asks me to scratch his back.  Gives himself over to me, completely, to take care of him and nurture him back to health.

I am his Mom.  His safe place.  Where and to whom he can surrender it all and know that he will be taken care of no matter what.  Seeing that in him allows me to surrender my own struggles, my own worries, and know that regardless, all will be taken care of.   In this house of sickness and pain, peace and hope and love prevail.

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=9xwCG0Ey2Mg