I am taking my kids to the park in the morning. As we walk on the path we’ve taken many times to get to the playground, I ask my children to stop any time they see something pretty.
Our normal 5-minute walk turns into a beauty-full 25-minute journey.
We see trees that had been cut down from a storm a few weeks ago, and count the rings.
We find these lovely heart-shaped “weeds” along the path.
We see tiny flowers ~ yellow, purple, white ~ that we probably would have rushed past in a hurry to get to our destination.
We make our nature walk part of the destination.
I love discovering what they find beautiful ~ dandelions, cottonwood.
My daughter thinks this tree stump looks like a star:
A walk to the park can be a mindfulness practice. Mindful parenting isn’t complicated.
We arrive at the park ~ they play, laugh, fight, run, and whine when we have to leave.
We start on the path toward home. “I’m the leader!” shouts my son.
“NO! You were the leader on the way here. Now I’M the leader!” yells my daughter.
Running, shoving, pushing, trying to get ahead of the other… I see a skinned-kneed, bloody disaster approaching.
“STOP!” I yell. “KNOCK IT OFF!” I yell, more loudly this time.
While half-running to catch up with them, I breathe. I take my mindful pause.
“You were the leader last time,” I tell my son. “How about your sister leads until two more turns in the path, and then you can both lead together?”
Pouting, my son eventually accepts the mommy-mediated compromise.
And soon, big sister is leading him through “jungles and vines” along the path to home.
I had yelled, and then I found my skillful response. That is mindful parenting.
My daughter stops in the path to admire this pile of cottonwood and forest debris that, to me, looks like junk. “Mom, it’s beautiful. It looks like it’s glowing! It looks like fairy dust!”
I look at it again. It is pretty.
My daughter kicks at it, sending a plume of cottonwood into the air. “Mom! It’s magic!”
When the time comes to assume joint leadership, my children walk hand-in-hand.
We arrive home. It is a gorgeous day, so I give my kids a blanket to set up for a picnic, while I go inside to prepare lunch. I barely have time to spread the jelly when I hear the screaming and crying.
I rush outside.
“He’s messing up the blanket!!”
“She punched me!!”
“Did you punch him?” I ask.
“No … Well, I did shove him a little,” my daughter confesses.
Her brother is still crying.
“Both of you, in the house!”
Now they are both wailing. My son is shouting, “I didn’t do nothing! I didn’t do nothing!”
My daughter wails, “I want a picnic! I want a picnic!”
All of this screaming is taking place in our front yard, and I imagine all the neighbors staring out their windows, asking, “Isn’t that the lady who has that blog about mindfulness? Clearly it’s a load of crap!”
I breathe. I try to remain calm. “We will have our picnic,” I tell my screeching little ones. “But how about you come in and calm down first.”
The crying subsides, and we go inside. I talk to my daughter about not shoving her brother, and what she can do when he bothers her. I talk to my son about how much it upsets his sister when he messes up the picnic she is preparing.
They sit quietly for a few minutes, I make lunch, they apologize, and we go outside for our picnic.
This is mindful parenting.
Our picnic is delightful. When a cool breeze comes up, my daughter remarks, “That’s Mother Nature bringing us air.”
My son lays on his back to watch the sky and we talk about all the colors in the clouds.
This is mindfulness.
This is our morning~ beauty, laughter, sweetness, play, fights, screams, pushes, apologies, tears, and a picnic.
This is mindful parenting ~ noticing, accepting, responding, breathing, misstepping, adjusting, and starting anew. Every moment, every day.
- A Mindful Approach to New Year’s Resolutions - January 13, 2020
- Just This Next Step - December 16, 2019
- WAIT: A Mindfulness Practice for Waiting in Line - December 9, 2019
