Why don't they come with Instructions?

They don't come with an instruction manual, neatly packaged in a plastic bag when you bring them home from the hospital. Why is that?

Raising children is rather like being handed a box of stuff - pieces and parts - and we have to try to put it together to make something awesome.

(OK - work with me here... Really ~ we know our kids are awesome individuals... and it's US that we're teaching... for for the sake of this post we're going to pretend that it's the parents that are teaching the kids.)

When my daughter came along, it was a shock. I didn't have a clue of how to socialize her, making her conform to MY idea of a well behaved child. So I set about establishing a set of rules for her behavior, and my expectations. Don't cross the street alone. Always hold my hand when we're in a parking lot. Don't talk with your mouth full. Etc. Etc. Etc.

And then my son came along.

Really HE should have come home with The Manual for Parenthood. The one that I wish I'd had to teach me how to control my frustration at his youthful exuberance and not take it out by being overly critical or rule bound. His enthusiasm made me feel old and stuffy. And the harder I tried to control him, the more he acted out. Cycling down until both of us were angry.

I had to find another way to deal with my own frustration. Because he was merely a reflection of my own stuff.

And that, in a nutshell, is where Kivi and the Lizard People came from.

I learned. It took a while. I had to let go of behaviors that my parents had gotten from their parents. And in the process of writing this story, and living my life, I have built a strong relationship with my son.

Is it perfect? No.

But it works for both of us. For now. Tomorrow it will be different. As we both will be.

The journey through parenthood has been worth it, even though it hasn't always been easy. Mostly because I thought the problem was him. It wasn't. It was about ME. And it took writing a children's book for me to really get that.

I hope you allow yourself to enjoy time with your children. Give yourself breathing room and space to learn new things, and unlearn old ones.

Bless you,


Gayle McCain

Love - Is About Doing.

Love. It's such a little word. And it is so misused, misunderstood, and both over and underused that western society is just confused.


I hate it when I hear a person say "Oh but he loves you" to anyone who has been abused, abandoned, or even just ignored. Aaargh. That teaches that person that love means allowing abuse, love means being abandoned, and love means that you're going to be ignored. This isn't love.

Love is an action. Sometimes it's powerful action. And sometimes it's strength is in standing still.

It is standing by someone, trying to help them through a rough time. Love is listening when someone needs to talk out whatever issue they're wrestling with. And sometimes it means that you ask them the questions they should be asking themselves (but are afraid to - or don't know they should).

Love is actively listening to someone in your life that you want to connect to... so that you can maintain a relationship, because you're drifting apart.

Love is doing dishes for someone who is sick, or giving a massage, or doing their yard work. Love is holding the hand and heart of a man who just buried his beloved wife, giving up weekends so he can manage to get through one more day. Love is painting his house so he could sell it because he just got transferred.

Love is talking matter-of-factly about ... well ... damn near everything.

Love is bending over to pick up a pen that a friend can't pick up off the floor because her arthritis makes it almost impossible. And buying a special glass - because her hands simply can't manage the heavy glass tumblers. It's about making sure that her front porch isn't slippery in bad weather... and rearranging my home for her to have a place to stay as she reevaluated her marriage.

Sometimes love is letting someone sit in jail, because that's the only way you can figure out how to keep her from proceeding down a very dark path.

Love is giving your mother permission to let go of a life that had become unsupportable and painful. Or giving her permission to hang on, even though it means tremendous effort must be put forth just to try to help her get comfortable. The effort is a demonstration of love.

Love is about making time for my children, and the children of others, because their own parent's wouldn't. It's about making sure they understand how babies are made, and why they should respect themselves enough to wait. But love is not about pretending that abstinence talk works - so it was about making sure they knew some of the emotional rollercoasters that each stage of intimacy might bring.

Love is about holding hands and learning to dance because you know someone will appreciate it. It is about taking the time to do things that please the loved one.


And when your friend falls in love with someone, it's about cheering him on and hoping that it works out for him. Because you hope to experience falling in love yourself one day and so you celebrate love wherever you find it.


Love is not about how much you spend, or whether you get good presents on your birthday. It is about whether you cared enough to give your time, your efforts, and your love.

It isn't about how much love 'I' receive. I'm not gonna lie, I appreciate and am grateful when the people around me do something loving, like making me a special birthday present, or baking sugar cookies, just for me. I like it a lot. But that's about THEIR love. Part of my love with them is to allow them to give.

I'm not talking about me 'needing' you to love me... but it may be about my allowing you to love me...

I can hear my friend rolling his eyes - thinking I'm talking exclusively about romantic love. These things are true for that... but they are also true for the caring of a classmate who will spend hours each week tutoring me without compensation so I can pass a class. It's about allowing friends to comfort us when we stumble, or struggle. It's about accepting the loving help we are offered.


It's about giving love. In ways that meet both your needs and the needs of those you care about. There must be balance... If someone you love is always taking, and never giving. There's an imbalance which will eventually destabilize how you deal with each other.

There are of course exceptions. Parenting - you love your children, investing tremendous energy into them, in a 'pay it forward' kind of way.


Maybe all love is like that... Pay it Forward. Doing things that demonstrate your love because you can - watching that love move out into the Universe like ripples on the water. Ever widening circles.


Love,

Gayle

*** Hugs***

If you are looking for the sum total of the wisdom of the universe in one concise phrase - here goes:

Love.
It's all about Love. Move from love, come from love, do everything from a space of loving and you'll never, EVER go wrong.

Oh and Listen to your heart. It's never wrong either.

Ta Da.

In Love,
in Joy
gayle

Remember to Play

What do you do when you are caught by yourself and don't have a clue what to do? When everyone you know is off playing and you have to be by yourself... When you don't know what to do? AND you are so tired of working you could just

... cry, scream, have a temper tantrum. (If you were 3.)

You sit back, and try to figure out what's wrong. When did being alone become hard? Was I four or fourteen? Or did it happen somewhere past forty? I don't remember. But somewhen I forgot how to play.


Oh I was really good at making sure that my children's play was sacred. We made mud pies, brownies, rollerskated. We blew bubbles and made sand castles. We rolled down the hill, rode trikes and bikes. We made up games like 'Pink" and "Pounce" (think rainbows from the crystals in the window and cat like behavior.)

We read stories, I told stories. We made villages in the basement from appliance boxes, and our driveway was always full of children.

And it was -20F with a half inch of ice on everything when we polished our downhill driveway with our butts so the point where you couldn't walk on it at all. (or get the car out... LOL


And then they grew up. And I forgot how to play. Everything I did had a purpose. Write a story. Paint a picture to match the furniture, and the walls. Create wreaths for the season - which ever season it was. Create, create, create... always for a purpose.

My kids know how to play. Because they somehow learned that play was sacred. And they remember.

But I forgot.
I have spent the last three years learning how to be idle again. And honestly I never knew it would be hard.

Make a home for myself, and my almost grown son. Work. Study. Keep busy so I don't have to be alone with the idea that I am afraid to play by myself.



A couple of weeks ago I got out the chalk and started drawing. And writing what amounts to pithy sayings on my local sidewalk. And I have learned to play again... Oh I've had my share of detractors that write nasty things with the chalk that I leave for others to use... The really nice thing about chalk - the nastiness can be erased with a little water and a cheap paint brush.

But there are people who have responded to my "Please draw... she asks quietly." There have been hearts, short love notes. Stars and moons. And a Rocket to the Moon...

This is a small corner of this big world... And here we will be kind to each other. We will speak softly, for Words Have Power, and they carry further than we can imagine.


For me - right now - the most loving thing I can do for myself - is learn how to play with the innocence of a child, eyes twinkling, dancing on tiptoe. It doesn't matter that I'm an author of a children's book (and two unpublished novels, an itty bitty self help book, and tons of short stories), or in graduate school... those are things I do during the day. It matters that I'm as good a mom as I can be, a caring friend, and a kind stranger. What I am is love. And my blog(s), my Twitter account, and my often neglected Facebook page reflect that.


The theme of all of these is... it has always been...

Live vividly, learn earnestly, laugh whole heartedly, and love with everything you've got.


We work hard, and this is good, but Remember to Play ~ it's good for your soul.

~Gayle~
.
.
***Hugs***

Kivi and the Lizard People - by Gayle McCain, Author

What do I love?  What do I believe I am good at?

 Making a difference in lives…


Answering a zillion questions when you came to my office, school, store… helping you find what you needed, interpret the results you got, understand the market. My income was never dependent upon whether you attended my school, or bought the latest widget from us. My information was my gift to you. And 9 times out of 10 – you’d come back to wherever I was working to buy something, or use our service.   I understood the market. I understood what it took to get to what your dreams were.

I left the workforce to stay home and raise my two children.  I understand their tender hearts… what makes them feel loved, abandoned, angry, cherished. Those things don’t change even when your eldest has been admitted to graduate school and your youngest is old enough to drive. They all want to feel cherished.

As parents we would all rather spend quality time with our children.  I especially liked reading to mine... because I love it. I loved snuggle time, even when I was reading to someone else’s kids. (I miss that now that my kids are older.)  Over the years I tried not to use the TV to babysit my kids for hours… Because children are HUNGRY for attention. When I was raising my youngsters, neighbor children came to MY house to play, and get the attention they craved from a caring adult. But honestly –by mid-afternoon we all were worn out… And then since none of the kids took naps, everyone had some downtime while a video played in the background. Until we could go again.

I wasn't a perfect parent, by any means.  I struggled with my son's independent nature, and his temper.  I wrote Kivi and the Lizard People because sometimes in frustration – I got angry at him. I had to learn how to respond to his anger in a kind loving manner. And it took me a while to learn what worked, and what didn’t. What words set him off, and what soothed.  I'm still learning.

Psychologists know a lot more about ANGER now than they did when my kids were little. But most of it is still in ADULT speak. Meaning if you’re an overwhelmed mom you may not have the time or patience to focus on the big words. Here it is in a nutshell.

• Be as loving as you can.
• During a melt down – your child’s or yours… stop, close your mouth, and breathe.  Don't speak words you will end up regretting later.
• Read simple things for yourself.
• If you are struggling with emotional issues - ask for help.  Do what it takes to heal your wounds, so you can be a better parent.  No one can do it for you.  And even though it is work, hard work, it is worth it.


Kivi and the Lizard People gives parents simple words to talk with their children about where anger comes from, and how to shift away from it.    If you would like to buy a copy - it is available on iPad and iPhone - see the link on the right.

I want to Make a difference…  I hope someday that books like Kivi and the Lizard People will become obsolete. So that the human race NEVER needs these kinds of books again.



EVER.


Gayle McCain
***Hugs***

Do What You Need to Do.

 An old friend taught me a valuable lesson. Do what you need to do. Even if occasionally it means that you forget about ‘protocol’. This friend is an orchestral conductor. I met him when he was just starting out. Even though conducting choral music wasn’t his dream, he was young and needed experience. Thus he took a gig conducting a church choir, which is where I met him. He created some truly beautiful memories through his interpretation of the music. I was able to bring my joy in music out to play. It was work – in that it took focus and effort. But it was joyful work. I did it because it allowed me to express something in me that I had no other way to express. And I loved him for bringing that out of me. 

While with us, he pursued his PhD in orchestral conducting, and started his own chamber orchestra. Honestly they were better than the other orchestras in the city. When he finished his PhD he was able to get a very prestigious position on the east coast. So he left us to pursue his dream. His first concert arrived, and he had on a beautiful suit. I saw the pictures. It wasn’t a problem when he was socializing with the patrons, or talking to his orchestra members. 

But when he raised his arms to conduct, it was tight across the shoulders. And it got in the way of his ability to do what he needed to do – lead a group of individuals in their creation of beautiful music. And so he took the jacket off. During the concert. If you or I did that during the course of our workday, no one would think anything about it. But this made national news. 

 Apparently conductors NEVER, EVER do that. And so it was a very, very big deal. 

And he lived. 

 AND his audience loved him for it. Because he put the music first. This talented man has gone on to even more prestigious positions, with even better orchestras, in his pursuit of bringing beautiful music to life. 

The lesson that I learned (and am still learning) is that I need to be able take off my own straight jacket to be able to do what I came here to do. 

Live. 

Gayle 

PS For those writers among you who are cringing at my excessive use of 'and'... pfft .