When you have done this, when you have felt the pull of expectation that you will do your part and participate, that you are essential, that others are counting on you, and that whatever you are able to contribute, even if you don’t believe it’s much, is an important part of the whole--once you know that you are a critical part of the whole, you can’t go back to thinking that you are insignificant.

These days, a childhood like the one I had, surrounded by people I knew and who knew my family, isn’t a given. These days, we have to build our own communities whichever way we can.

“When you put on your Cottage apron, you step into this unique role. Put aside your preconceived notions, your judgements, your crazy morning, your childhood experiences, your fears, your hopes for the future. Acknowledge them and set them down. You don’t need them today”. What we create when we make that invocation is a container for a meditative space.

Our kids are going to be fine, because kids learn whether you mean for them to learn or not. Learning is not contingent on our intentions, as anyone who accidentally taught their toddler to swear can tell you.

You know how when you ask someone how they are doing these days, they tend to say something like, “Good! Fine. Pretty much fine. We are okay. You know.” And then there is a pause where you both nod vigorously and either on the phone or in person, you both just take a silent moment to acknowledge that nothing and nobody is actually okay right now. It’s like our reflex to perform the tiny linguistic ceremony consisting of, “How are you”, “I’m good! How are you?” is so strong that at first, we just do it. Then we weaken in our resolve to maintain that veneer, and we admit to something a grade down from “good”. And then, standing in the blatant falsehood of our own mechanical language, we scale down again. It bears no explanation.

Pre-Covid example: my child is making a scene at Target. My anger, frustration, and embarrassment make it look to me like the child is being irrational (or worse), instead of my being able to see that they are exhausted and hungry. When we get home, my co-parent looks at me fuming and gets angry at the children for upsetting me.

It wasn’t until I lost her that I was called to recognize that teaching my grandmother provided to me. In the absence of her moving through the world, I had to give the thing she had been giving me. Instead of feeling like a part of me was gone, what I found is that there was a part of me I had not been aware of, which now insisted upon being expressed.

I have a parenting pattern that I am not entirely proud of, but I want to tell you about it, because I  like the last part. I also like that I am aware of a pattern that I do, because it helps me be mindful about it. Here’s the first part: I clean the house. Somebody makes a mess. I grouch about the mess, and then I clean it up.