Peace In A Rough Morning

This is what mornings are often like in our home.

One or both of the kids, not wanting to wake up, often working themselves into a full-fledged fit.

Parenting is a practice, and over my years of practice, I've learned something very important: My attitude always influences theirs.

I'm definitely not a morning person, and often feel the same as they do as we stumble through the morning.  It is far easier to yell, to prod, to push them through the a.m. routine than it is to take a deep breath and gently guide.  It is far easier to complain alongside them than to create discussions of things to look forward to.  And yet,...

each time the bus comes over the hill and I've kept my calm, the kids are excited (or at least not upset) to get on the bus.  I walk back down our street and notice the trees swaying and the softly radiating sky light.

This morning, a hawk even called out to us.  It would've been easy to miss had I been yelling.

Our experiences in the morning peacefully guide us into our day.

And when I come home and the kids are gone, my thoughts rage on.  They battle just like my children do.  

Having trained for this kind of confrontation, I just breathe.  Anger, guilt, excitement, and fatigue swell and retreat like the waves on the ocean.  

Through it all, I breathe.

I'm not necessarily trying to keep myself calm (although that is a nice bonus), nor am I setting out with the intention to teach them anything (although that, too, is extremely important).  

I'm not trying to influence my children nor control my mind to reach any particular goal.

Often, it is as simple as this:  

I like just being able to hear the hawk.

Namaste.