The At Least Game... and a lot of Mud.

Spring has sprung and with it comes one of our daughters’ favourite seasons- Mud pie season.
Around here mudpies are not a simple act of making mud into patties and letting them dry- oh no- the Fletcher mudpies have become an art, a science and it can take a few hours, nay, a few days to have the desired effect achieved.
Pie crusts have to have the right firmness, “chocolately” glop has to have the right consistency and the froth, a mixture of soap and water stirred, shaken and concocted has to have a meringue effect to be sufficient. Its been developed by our 2 girls over the last 4 years and it was with a heavy heart last fall that I put away the various assigned buckets and containers. At 8.5 and 7.5 I thought that by spring, mud pies would be a thing of the past, and they would have out grown them. But no sooner had the first rays of the spring sun shone, that they were at it again, with an air of satisfied contentment and looking muddier then ever. I love to see them at it.

This year marks a change. At 20 months our little boy has gotten the bug too. Nothing thrills him more then pouring and stirring and it was with elated glee that he joined his sisters, each with their own bucket and pie experiment. For their father and I we watched with pride and joy as, somehow, age differences had been bridged and a new bonding had occurred, even if it was over, lets just say it, mud. Blissful, delightful, and ever so goo-ey, mud.

But after near enough a week of muddy bliss, the glee was broken today when I heard our younger daughter give a panicked yell to her brother and then screams from our son.
Her precious mudpie had been taken over by him and he had poured the content of his bucket on top of her newly finished work of art.
As she said “it went from a masterpiece to a disaster piece” in a blink of an eye.
In her panic, our boy had been scared and fallen over. Broken hearted our daughter ran upstairs, devastated. She felt we thought she’d upset him on purpose. She thought her sister thought she’d pushed him and she mourned her mudpie. On top of it all, she’d tripped and was filthy.
At first glance, I got a wave of frustration, thinking “all this is over mud! She’s upset her brother and I’m dealing with numerous tears, over MUD!”
But after taking a moment to set our boy back up, after seeing what a mess her project was now, I was reminded that at 7, art is art in any form and when we create, it is heart breaking to see it destroyed.
I went upstairs to find our girl, face down on her bed.
I hugged her close and told her she had every reason to be upset. She told me how she felt, what had happened, what she thought we thought, and how everything had gone wrong.
“Yes, absolutely.” I reassured her “it happened and you, by all logic, should feel upset and mad. But now what?”
Tears came again as she felt so awful and couldn’t see a way out. She also knows about the Law of Attraction. She’s been raised to be aware of how she feels and knows that from this place of upset, happy outcomes were unlikely results.
“Looks like its time for some At Leasts.” I suggested.
The At least game is something our younger daughter and I invented. Basically when you feel bad, simply find a few sentences beginning with the words At Least and things won’t seem as bad.
Suggesting this at this point, I was expecting some resistance, some pleas and cries of “I can’t!” But that girl… she doesn’t feel the need to hang around in a feeling space she doesn’t like. There’s no feeling of riding it out. Sometimes when our children are so much stronger then ourselves.
“At least my crust will still be alright. It wasn’t that much water.” She said brightly.
“And at least his water will make it gooier once I pour it off.”
“And at least,” I added “we’ll give you more soap so you can make an even better topping.
She didn’t even look back as she dashed downstairs to start again. A few minutes later she said with pride it was better then ever.


And our son, he was given a few extra buckets… just in case.

Comprehending beyond words

Although I’ve known it for a long time, it’s sometimes hard to remember that children, babies, in particular, comprehend by our intentions. They understand us by what we are feeling, and feelings don’t lie. We can be saying positive and uplifting things, but if underneath those words are covering up feelings of frustration and anxiety, our children will be wondering what’s the matter with us.
On the same token, we can understand our children by what they are emitting on an energy level.
This was so obvious last night.
Yesterday, our son seemed off . He cried easier, and life seemed to be overwhelming. He wasn’t focused on his play as he usually is and all in all, I thought it best to take him to bed early to see if it would help.
When I took him up, he didn’t ask to go to bed as he usually does by climbing on the bed, pulling the covers over himself and then patting the space beside him for me to join him. (He still hasn’t started talking yet. At 20 months he’s our latest talker, and we feel it’s simply because we all understand him so well anyway, he doesn’t need words.)
Rather, he went and hid behind the bed, his way of asking me to play peek abo. I started to play, half distracted by other things I needed to get done, but slowly our son called me back to myself. Slowly, I found that present, in-the-moment feeling where we could connect.

After about 15 minutes, our little boy climbed on the bed and decided to read with me. We got his book about cars and trucks and he kept turning to the pages of backhoes and loggers. Thru his actions, he expression and his determination to show them to me, I got the feeling that he was sincerely frightened by them, which affects him greatly as where we live, we see these on a regular basis.
Although he doesn’t talk I reassured him that if he stayed with us and didn’t touch the trucks, he was safe. I told him there was nothing to worry about, but validated his concern by saying it was best to stay with us or in the car. I then distracted him away from it, by reading him a pretty book about winnie the pooh. His dad came up to say goodnight, and immediately our son grabbed the car book and pulled it open to the pages with the backhoes and loggers. (as a side note, I love watching his serious face as he flips through pages of a book. He looks so lovely, it makes my heart beat double time.)
His dad talked to him about how they worked. Showed him where the driver sat, and that they needed a driver to work, and that no matter what we would keep him safe.
Our son looked at us relieved, snuggled down beside me and went to sleep, happy, safe and content.

The next morning he was himself again. He played with gusto, and was grounded and focused.

He hadn’t said a word, but by taking the time to read his feelings and his subtle ways of expressing himself we’d gained insight to what was throwing him off. And all from starting off from getting to a better, more in tuned, place by playing with him a bit.
Some joy equalled more joy… at that average, I think I’ll play even more often.

A little Magic

Anyone who knows us well knows that we’ve kept goats on our small farm for about 4 years. It’s been a wonderful experience, amazing for the children and a huge learning curve.
Our goat keeping took a turn last month. Our beautiful doe, Maggie, who was our first, was pregnant and overdue. Finally, after 3 days of labour, she gave birth. The first was breach and died after a few breaths, the second came sideways and was rushed into our daughters to be taken care of and the third was stillborn. Not my usually upbeat post, right? Sorry.
Well, we thought the worst was over, “Magic”, the sole survivor, was taken back to his mother for a few minutes, and they cuddled and cooed together.
It was a beautiful thing to watch and as a woman and a mother I felt a strong instinct to let them have their time together. Where there is death there is life and to see them together seemed to give Maggie strength and we knew the birth had been hard on her. However, Magic had to be kept warm and Maggie couldn’t get up, so we brought him in for the night, promising Maggie she would see her son in the morning.
But life took a turn when the next morning we found Maggie had passed on, leaving her one remaining son, alone in the world.
From the prospect of having a milking goat with little kids running around, we found we had a little buck, solely dependant on us. It was a farming disaster on a logical place. We kept goats for the milk, and now we had to buy milk to keep goats. Well, we aren’t farmers really, whereas most farmers would have probably done away with the little fellow, we brought down our son’s crib (he’s a full time co-sleeper so didn’t need it) and for the last 3 weeks we’ve had a house goat. He slept with our daughters for the first week, cuddled in their arms for body heat, he became house trained, and played with all of us, all day long.
What could have been seen as a disaster of a plan gone wrong, in fact turned into a little miracle, who’s taken away the pain of our dog’s passing last fall. Joy and fun has filled the house again and we all are experiencing the greatest appreciation for little Magic.

But then the inevitable happened. Magic thrived. He went from the dependent infant to the little explorer who chased at our heels, to the bigger playful explorer, who at a month old stood taller then our little boy.
Magic started to look for further explorations, moving upstairs, knocking over laundry or garbage, chewing on papers and almost knocking over our 20 month old son.
The girls wanted to keep him in the house always (it has been known before) and actually take him with us on our road trip this summer but suddenly it seemed we were holding him back. He didn’t have that same sparkle in his eyes, in fact he seemed to be resenting us.
And so, yesterday, Magic moved out to the barn. There he had his Aunt and his half brother and sister. Suddenly he found out he was indeed a goat!! He was excited and bounced and played about, running as fast as he could.

If you go outside and call his name Magic comes running. He’ll follow you everywhere. We still give him his bottles 3 times a day and each time he’ll nestle in your arms, his nose under your chin. But he is happy in his new vantage point. He loves his new family, and he loves us still, probably more now since we’ve given him freedom.

Why am I telling you this long winded story?
Its taught me a valuable lesson about parenting, and although this experience has only been within a month, I find that at a slower pace, lasting years, my parenting of children will mirror the experience (minus turning them out to the barn, or them chewing paper… needless to say.)
If we had held on to Little Magic, determined to selfishly hold him in the place of dependency, having enjoyed his infancy so much, it would have gone wrong. He would have rebelled, and gotten angry, creating more havoc, we would have gotten frustrated and anxious. By trying to hold on to something that was bringing us joy we would have prevented the “new”, the new joy, the new adventure, the new moments, not only for ourselves but for Magic as well.
We tend to think of letting our children grow and expand all at once when they turn 18 and move out, when it really is a slow step by step process as we let them grow from babes in arms to little explorers to toddlers seeking independence, school children expressing themselves and so on. Each moment in our children’s lives are opportunities to find the “new”.
So although we miss our little infants, who depend on us to provide everything, we can enjoy their new discoveries and adventures. When we support their joys and look for ways to help them follow their bliss, we get the satisfaction of watching them thrive and leap for joy. And then, like Magic, even when they’ve grown, they will still run to us, happy to be back in our arms, knowing that when they want us to, those arms will be opened to let them explore again.

Who They Really Are

Life is about More.
We live, we experience, we then crave more. We are ever expanding, ever changing, ever moving forward beings. Isn't it exciting? Who wants to be static?

Well life has changed a bit for me over the last few months, which anyone who has read these posts could tell you. My vantage point, that place of experience and perspective has altered, and quite honestly there's a new website to prove it.

I can't tell you how exciting it is to know my book is being released next month. It feels different then I ever expected. I thought I would feel pride and accomplishment, instead I sit wondering how those words came from me, I realize in wonder that they came through me, and I feel like I have taken part in something, something that I hope my children's children's children will look at fondly. Can I actually have a legacy?
But then there's the craving of more. Suddenly, its not enough, I'm looking to new avenues, to the lecture tour, to meeting with parents, to talking about people's parenting experiences, to consult and assist parents and together co-create new experiences for our children, stop, I'm getting too excited now. Breathe.

You know, there's that lovely moment, just after your baby is born. You don't have to think about pregnancy any longer, you have no worries about tomorrow. It is by far the most in the moment thing, as your new vantage point pours over you, without the craving for more. I can't think of any other time when the moment is all you need. Sure a few hours later, maybe a couple of days, your baby will shift you again, you might crave more sleep, more time, more peace.... more, more, more. But in that blissful moment, Life stands still and allows you to savour it.
If I could talk to all the pregnant women out there, I would say, make sure you savour that time. With your baby in your arms for the first time, breathe him in, take stock of his hair, his fingers, his toes. Savour the moment that there is no future, there is no past, there is just Now.
I savoured it, and now I look for times to experience that blissful moment of Now again. I gotta tell you, there are few that match that moment of new birth.

Anyway, check out the website if you get a chance, www.christinafletcher.ca and if you like get regular updates via the Facebook Page Spiritually Aware Parenting. I'm putting a "like Box" on here ASAP!
Be well, happy and thrive.

Watching our little man interpreting his life

I'm so proud of our little boy. He's 20 months and over the last few weeks he's taken a big step in deciding Who He Really Is. I have two stories to share with you quickly before I head back to work. (My book is in the final stages everyone, stay tuned here for the big announcement of release).
We were taking care of our neighbor's cat after she fell and had to live with her family. Our cats really didn't like this new feline and over the last few weeks it had gotten to the point that he would pop in for some food and then escape quickly before meeting up with them. It was a sad existence for an animal so we suggested to the family that they find another home. Well they did and the other day we caught "Steve" and called them up to say come and get him. We thought when they opened the door Steve would just take off, so we decided to put him in a box safe and sound, so we could easily hand him over to the new parents.
Well as we grab Steve and put him in the box, needless to say he freaked out. He fought us, scratched us and basically caused comotion, like all cats do. Well our little boy saw this, and thought his parents were being very unjust. Within a instant he started to hit his father and burst into tears. Dad and I looked at each other, let the cat go and immediately hugged our wailing son. We were so proud. Sure, we don't want him to feel free to hit and scream at his parents, but we knew that he was standing up for what he thought was right. If animal activism is where his line lies, well, good for him. In his non verbal state he's in, this was the only way he could express himself and he did it so well. Steve was relocated to a cat carrier when the new owners came, it was simple and non violent as our son was upstairs with me. Our son had been right, the box wasn't needed.
Lesson of that day was simply to listen to our children. It would have been so easy to go on a rant, to get mad at him for hitting or not obeying what his parents thought was right. But listening to him, seeing his rage at what he thought was injust and then telling him, you're right, don't worry. Oh, sweet satisfaction.

Although our little boy doesn't talk yet, he understands everything. His father was planning to walk to the store rather late the other day so he called down to see if it was open. We barely talked about it to each other, but our little boy heard the phone call. It was his bedtime so although he usually walks down with daddy, this time he had to go to bed instead. However when his dad was off the phone, boy-o went to go get his gloves and hat like every walk. We told him it was bed and that his dad would take him tomorrow, after sleep. After explaining this a few times, our son went to bed content knowing that he would go when he woke up.
Well morning came, and the minute we were downstairs our son was straight to the gloves and hats, ready to go with dad. He had to wait until after breakfast, but dad made sure he took him straight after.
Lesson on that day, intergrity. our little boy is going to make sure we keep our word, at this young age he has honour and integrity and assumes we do to. What an amazing choice he is making.
Yes, I'm a proud mommy. Now back to work, or plork as a friend calls it. Play+work= Plork and I love writing about our little darlings.
All the best everyone.

On the ride....

So I checked my last post and realized its been way too long.
Life has taken a 180 for the Fletcher family, and thru contrast, expansion and then seriously catching up, we're jumping on board the train of life.

I am pleased to announce that my book, Who They Really Are: a guide to being a spiritually aware parent, will be available for sale next month.

I am also excited to announce that I will be offering a lecture series on Spiritually Aware Parenting and the use of the Law of Attraction in the coming months in various cities across North America. I can still barely believe it myself, but stay tuned. The planning stages are in the works and all feels wonderful, so I'll keep you posted.

Thanks for viewing everyone!
Be well, Happy and Thrive always.

Our Daughter, Harry Potter and LOA

Our eldest daughter has started reading the Harry Potter series after hearing all the hype about them. She’s a mature 8 and we thought she would be alright with it, even if it was scary in parts. Tonight she proved she has amazing tools within herself. Ready for it? More than I would say.
It’s the girls’ usual practice to read before going to sleep. It seems to put them into a quiet and contemplative space and as long as they are reading nice things, sets them up for a good night in dreamland. Well, tonight I got called up as our daughter said she had a big problem. She was tired, but she was reading her book.
I asked if it was too exciting and she couldn’t put it down, even as her eyes closed upon her. Her answer was no. I asked if it was too scary, again no. She hadn’t reached the scary parts yet.
Her problem she told me, was that the book was just awful. She described the first couple of chapters of the second book, as Harry and Ron were almost expelled for appearing at Hogwarts late, how everyone was mad at them, how frustrating it was, and how the feeling of it felt just “awful”. She didn’t want to go to sleep in that vibration.

There are moments in parenting, when the pride in your heart literally seems to make you feel like you could burst.
Our daughter had caught something so subtle, and yet so important.
Books, movies and other mediums are powerful ones. They create new feeling spaces that we then take on as our own. We literally step into their worlds and if its not a nice world, we take ourselves to a place that will feel off.
When we go to sleep, we join our spirits and our dreams can provide us with a snapshot of where we are vibrationally through the day and especially the last moments of being awake, which usually sum a day up. I had talked to our daughter a few nights before about what dreams represent. That if you appreciate things around you, if you put yourself into a feeling of appreciation, awe, love, beauty, than your dreams will bring that feeling back to you, tenfold.
Looks like she was listening and from now on will be more careful what book she takes to bed.
But it raises another point about awareness. The written word, media, even what you talk about with your neighbors create a fabric for your thoughts. It can usually set up your vibration, as you think of it so often. And where’s there vibration, there’s law of attraction bringing some more of it.
Oh, I’m so proud of our girl. She recognized a vibration she didn’t want in herself and switched books. What an achievement! To be that aware of how she feels… oh I love it.
But then there’s me. People, places, films, books, newspapers, how much thought time am I giving them? How much are they becoming the fabric of my life? And what does it mean?
Well, I don’t know if our girl will put down HP for good, it might be a day book. But she went to sleep reading fairy books and to me that’s a smart idea.