I feel a lot of pressure to “do things right” or to “be the best” in life.  I think it’s just a part of the culture we live in.  I remember feeling it as a young girl.  I was walking home from school with my best friend in first grade chanting, “I’m in the red reading group.  You’re in the bluuuue group.”  Can you guess which reading group was higher?  Yep, red—it was the highest group.  And even at a very young age, that somehow elevated me.  Well, it elevated me until my mom caught wind of the event and sat me down for a lesson on kindness.

I remember growing up feeling this pressure to excel.  Making the basketball and volleyball team wasn’t enough.   I had to work to get better so I could start.  Making the top band was great, but now I had to practice to get a higher chair, and the celebration came when I moved up or got the solo part.  When I got the solo, I wanted to play it perfectly.  Academically, it was getting the A and being in the advanced courses.  Then it was about getting into a great college and earning scholarships.

I’m not sure really where the pressure came from.  My parents never sat me down and said, “You must be the best at everything you do!”  They just wanted me to work hard and have opportunities for growth.

What I internalized though is this need to be more; to show through my accomplishments that I am enough and that I am of value.  It shows up in my adult life as I wonder about my outfit after a sideways glance from friend, as I fill my schedule with projects and appointments, say yes when I need to set a boundary, or doubt my decisions as a parent because I’m worried about being the cool mom. 

It is flat out exhausting, and at times I’ve run myself ragged trying to keep up and be more.

So what is true?  Is my worth dependent upon my accomplishments?  Is it based upon the choices of my well behaved, scholarly, hard-working children?  Do they define my value?  Talk about pressure—and a whole different conversation!

 No, of course not.  I have great value just because I am here on this earth in all my imperfections.  It’s hard to remember truth though when the negative voices can be so loud.  Truth is having a choice.  I control what stays in my mind.  I can take the messages from the world or from my past experiences and internalize them, or I can give birth to new thoughts and beliefs.  I can flip every negative thought if I choose.  It’s hard work, but it’s possible.  It’s my choice.  Some of my affirmations are original thoughts and some I’ve picked up from others along the way. 

Because I'm practicing, I need constant reminders.  They help center me and chase away old patterns of thought; patterns that I am ready to be done with.  They remind me that my imperfections are a part of how my children are learning and growing and that the messy work we are doing is good.

If you follow Build Family Connection on Facebook you’ve seen “Mondays with Michelle.”  These are some of my reminders.  But let me tell you, when we started this idea, the thoughts that flooded my mind were, “Who quotes themselves?  Your friends are going to think you are so stupid.  People are going to think you are so full of yourself.  You can’t do that.  Who do you think you are?  How embarrassing!”

Well, so what!  I have spent way too much of my life trying to make other people happy and worrying about what people think.  It is stifling and keeps me waiting for just the right moment to follow my dreams.  Worse yet, it throws me into the hustle of proving my worth, breeds comparison and jealousy, and promotes criticism.  Ugh--the sideline critic!  Unfortunately, this all filters down to my children.  Double ugh!

Fortunately, I get to create new patterns and I’m claiming space in the world for my voice of truth; one that finds value and strength in vulnerability and imperfection.  That’s what Mondays with Michelle are all about.  It’s part of a healing process; these consistent reminders to center and find joy.  Sometimes it’s a small challenge to let go of control and live in the moment. 

Whatever shows up on a Monday, it’s a journey and I’m inviting you along.  I’m hoping like mad, that someone else can relate and find strength, but also trusting that my voice has value even if it’s just for me.  And that is something I feel good about passing on to my children.

What keeps you strong and centered?  What is your truth?  I’d love to hear.

Today is serious business.  Despite all my blog posts about family travel, I was more than a little hesitant about our 14 drive to the Yellowstone region.  So much so that I almost cancelled our trip.  Fortunately, I had some friends who walked me through some thoughts on our itinerary, we made some adjustments, and I felt excited for the adventure again.  I knew we needed a good audiobook.  My kids keep up on the more popular book series so we were in need of some fresh ideas.  I turned to fellow mothers and readers on Facebook and was so excited with the response I received. 

Whether it’s for listening in the car, reading together as a family, or for a child to read on their own, here are the top recommendations we received for kids ages 10-16.  Now I have not listened to every single one of these titles.  Please—that’s a lot of listening, but each of these comes highly recommended.  I didn’t want to keep this list to myself.  Enjoy!  Thank  you to Facebook friends who shared your wisdom to create this list!  

If you are looking for a more specific age range or wonder about language, violence, or sexual content, check out commonsensemedia.org.  They not only review the book, but rate it based on specific content.  When we are looking to please a variety of ages, this is a tool I love.

Sideways Stories from Wayside School – Louis Sachar

Leven Thumps – Obert Skye

Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams

Little Britches – Ralph Moody

Laddie – Gene Stratton-Porter

Carry on Mr. Bowditch – Jean Lee Latham

To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee

Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson

Code Talker – Jospeh Bruchac

The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas

The Work and the Glory – Gerald N. Lund

Fablehaven – Brandon Mull

Beyonders – Brandon Mull

Harry Potter – JK Rowling

Chicken in the Headlights – Matthew Buckley

Bullies in the Headlights – Matthew Buckley

Janitors – Tyler Whitesides

Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites Series - Chris Heimerdinger

The Gravity Keeper – Simon Bloom

Candy Shop Wars – Brandon Mull

The Rithmatist – Brandon Sanderson

The Ascendance Trilogy – Jennifer Nielsen

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind – Kamkwamba

Unbroken – Laura Hillenbrand YA version

Percy Jackson and related Rick Riordan titles

The Enchanted Collection (Audible)

The Adventure Collection (Audible)

The Graveyard Book – Neil Gaiman

Nick of Time Series – Ted Bell

Incident at Hawk’s Hill – Allan W Eckert

Brighty of the Grand Canyon- Marguerite Henry

Cheaper by the Dozen - Frank B. Gilbreth and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey

Charlie Bone Series – Jenny Nimmo

Magyk series – Angie Sage

Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis

Sweetness at the Bottom of my Pie – Alan Bradley

This week has been one where things I know in my brain really hit my heart with a new depth of understanding. 

 I wouldn’t call myself a worrier, but deep beneath the surface it’s there… percolating. Our families have a lot working against them and it’s hard not knowing what lies ahead.  Have I taught my children enough?  Are they really listening?  Do they deeply value our opinions?  Will they stay free from addictions?  Will they make choices that bring them true joy?  For me, facing the unknown is one of the hardest things in life.   I really don’t like it.  Let’s be real.  Sometimes I just want to know that this story of our life has a happy ending.  And if I had my way, I would write a great story. 

Even harder than not knowing the ending to this story is knowing that I only get to write a part of it.  Only 1/6 to be exact!  I hate it!  And I love it!  I hate it because it’s hard, it hurts, and I can’t control it. 

I love it because the freedom of choice is at the core of our experiences in this life.  Allowing choice acknowledges mistakes, embraces pain, and requires a deep level of acceptance and trust.  It also brings strength, passion, energy, and purpose to our experiences. 

With every choice, I write my own story.  Our stories are messy and full of imperfection, and the only way to travel through the unknown is to trust. 

 What do you trust in?  I trust in God.  I trust that He knows who I am and that He is watching over me.  I trust that He has a plan for me and that it’s a good plan; even when I can’t see a clear path.  I trust that He also knows my children.  He loves them even more than I do.  Which is good.

Good because each of my children are busy writing their own story.  The story I can’t control.  All of my worry and fuss will never change the fact that this is their story too.  Yes, I play a role.  The role I try desperately to fill is that of a mother.  I love.  I teach. I show up.  I embrace them in their yuckiest moments for all they bring and for who they are becoming.  I set aside my own fear and sit with them in the mess. I let them know that mistakes are a part of the journey and there is no shame in living and learning.  I listen.  I ask what they are learning.  I STOP telling them what they need to figure out.  I learn from their wisdom.  I offer support and guidance.  I feel their heart, see their dreams, and trust in their path.  And, then I forget all these things.  I start to worry again and try to grasp for control.  Then, I remember and I write so I can remember. 

So I have a choice.  Do I cling to fear and control?  Do I step into trust and belief?

Today I choose trust.  When we believe in our children and champion their efforts, we empower them to take charge and write their own messy story full of growth and experience.  What do you choose?

How many times do you reach the end of the day and wish you had a second chance to go back and re-do the not so great parts?  Only to find at the end of the next day, you are feeling the same frustrated feelings!  Identifying where I fall short is no problem.  It’s climbing out of this rut that’s the hard part.  That’s why over the years, our family has spent a lot of time practicing the Art of the Re-Do. 

The second I realize I don’t like what’s happening, I have to stop it!  I mean literally and physically freeze myself and ask for a “Re-Do.”  Then, everyone goes back to where they were just moments before and we start over.  It gives my brain, and more importantly my heart, a moment to kick in and consider how I really want to proceed.  Younger children are much more forgiving in this area, but most of the older kids I get to ask would love to see their parents try again.

A while back, my 10 y.o. chose to tackle some melted crayon art project we saw on Pinterest.  We gathered a few supplies, talked through a few quick instructions, and he got started.   Before too long, I was off in another direction and he carried on hot gluing crayons onto the poster board.  Soon I heard the blow dryer in the background and thought, “Check him out.  He figured out a way to hang the poster and he is going to town.  Love that independent spirit!”

I was excited to see how the project was coming and unsuspectingly walked out in the backyard.  I found the poster board pinned to the stucco on either side of the kitchen window.  On the ground just beneath the poster was the couch cushion from our outdoor furniture.  Standing on the cushion, with blow dryer in hand was my independent soul smiling and innocently spraying melted crayon wax everywhere.  It was on the stucco, window frame, blow dryer, and was steadily dripping down the poster board onto the couch cushion.  Now, I know you can’t see it, but WOW—it was a mess!  All those feeling of admiration and affection shifted to frustration and anger as I did what came most naturally.  I yelled, “Aaaaah!!  What do you think you are you doing!?” 

Remember—I knew what he was doing.   I had left him to figure out a plan….and he did.  It just wasn’t the tidy adult plan I had in my head.

The happiness and joy of the moment disappeared in an instant.  His eyes welled up with tears and all the confidence from a moment before was gone.   Stunned he stared up at me. 

Too mad to respond, I yelled, “I’m so angry right now I need a minute to cool off.  I’ll be back.”  As I entered the house, just before I slammed the door, I heard a tiny voice say, “I’m just doing my project.”

The rest of the family was gathered in the kitchen.  As I walked in, their faces confirmed what I already knew—my reaction was out of line. 

It wasn’t the frustration or emotion I felt that was the problem, but my reactivity to it.  I lost sight of my son.  All I could see in that moment was the mess—the huge mess!   These moments sneak up on us.  Fear takes over, we react with anger and hostility, then later feel regret and shame.   This is where the Re-Do comes in.  We have to lay down a new pattern in our brain.  It takes practice.

I gave myself a minute and turned back to go outside.  “Hey, bud.  I really messed that up.  Can I try again?”

With a nod to the affirmative and a few tears he said, “I don’t know why you are so mad at me.”   

Back inside I went.  This time I walked outside and in a very surprised and loud voice said, “WOW!  Look at that artwork!  Whoa, and crayon wax everywhere!”  Deep breath and softer, “Help me understand why the picture is here instead of on the fence and why the cushion is on the ground.”

Now to me, the situation was very clear, but to the 10 year-old brain, the perspective was a little different.

“Mom, the cord on the blow dryer didn’t reach very far.  The poster kept falling off the fence and crayons were breaking off so I just put the picture right here.  Then I couldn’t reach it very good because my arm was tired and the cushion made me just the right height….”   After a hug and some guidance, he came up with a plan to help clean up the mess.  We relocated the poster and he finished the project. 

Now almost 2 years later, I have gotten over the mess on the couch cushion and even smile when I see it.  The crayon has faded and is barely noticeable.  Together we keep learning and practicing.

Shifting from reacting with anger to responding with empathy is tough and requires consistent effort.   It doesn’t just happen.  So next time you lose your cool…practice a Re-Do.

The Art of the Re-Do sounds like this:
“I didn’t respond very well.  Can I have a re-do?”  Or  
“I made a mistake, can we do that over?"
“Aaah!  Stop!  Let’s re-do this and try again.”
“Stop -- everybody rewind!”  

Choose one.  Then, everyone literally goes back to where they were just moments before and starts over.
Yes, it feels awkward.  Yes, we might look silly.   No, my peeps aren’t always excited.  Yes, there might be some eye rolling.  AND, yes, it’s highly effective at creating a new pattern.

Where can you try again today?  Be bold and create a new pattern for yourself as you open the door for thinking, accountability, and connection.

Each summer our kids offer a neighborhood kids camp.  It’s a lot of work.  They plan daily activities and crafts, we shop together, prepare supplies, and then open the doors for a whole lot of summer chaos and fun.  My kids love it and look forward to it every year.  And, every year I get to learn the same lesson over and over again.

Despite my inner commitment to let our kids fully own the experience, it’s easy for me to step in.  I begin small by trying to control the chaos and mess, and I’m pretty good at it! But then, I start seeing more areas for improvement or efficiency so I start to help more.  Unfortunately, something else happens too.  I unwittingly send the message that despite their great efforts, they are not enough.  My kids step back,  the excitement in their eyes diminishes and suddenly I am dragging them along trying to get them to help more.  I end up exhausted, frustrated and wonder why I even agreed to this plan in the first place.

Then I remember, some years sooner than others, “Oh ya!  This is not my camp.  It’s Cox Kids Summer Camp—run by the Cox kids; not this Cox mom!  They have been taught, we’ve practiced, and they are ready for this.  So I slam on the brakes and regroup.  I shift to the role of advisor and support/safety crew.  I step back and get to watch the magic happen.  

The kids step into their leadership role and take ownership in the project again.  As they realize that someone better run the show, my pleas for help disappear and they are up and moving:  organizing, giving directions, interacting with their campers, finding creative solutions, leading games, and creating learning experiences for everyone.  Including me.  

I get to humbly experience my children in a new light as they grow more fully and become the wonderful beings they are.  Fun, full of life, messy, and creative kids with big hearts who love their campers!  And who get to practice cleaning up!  This hard work experience connects us.  I believe when we prepare our children and create opportunities for them to practice sharing ownership, we instill trust and promote growth.  It’s a beautiful connection to invite.   
 
What areas in your family need a little less you and a little more kids this week?  Pick one—just a small one.  Make sure it’s age appropriate!  Then, spend some time teaching, practicing, and getting ready to take a step back.  Bit by bit, the pieces will come together as you give the gift of becoming.