It has been a tough week, and I am exhausted. I live just outside of Boston, and the bombing on Monday shook me to my core. I’ve cried every day this week. I’ve cried for the three people who died (including a young boy), I’ve cried for the hundreds who were injured, and I’ve cried for the individuals who will never be able to erase the sights, sounds, and smells of that terrible incident from their memories.

And I’ve cried for myself, for the fear that has overwhelmed me since I first heard the news of what happened, in the middle of a lovely afternoon at the park. The sun was out, the weather had finally warmed up, and the girls and I were having a great time. And then another mother told us that two bombs had gone off at the finish line.

I haven’t been able to find my footing since then. I was sitting in meditation this morning, and every time I closed my eyes, I felt as though I was going to fall over. I finished my meditation with my eyes open.

My daughters, just two and four, have no idea what happened, and I have no intention of telling them. I’d love to tell you that even as my mind and heart are reeling, life at home has gone on as usual. But it’s not true. I’ve been feeling anxious and scared. Not unlike when my daughters feel similarly, I have been a bit crispier, a bit more fragile, a bit more likely to crumble around the edges. When that happens, I lose my patience, and I snap at the girls.

That is the painful irony of, course. I take out my stress on the people most important to me, the ones I am most terrified of losing when something like this happens.

The reality is that just as I will never be the same person that I was before 9/11, I will never be the same parent that I was before the marathon was bombed. More than ever, I am inspired to find …

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3 Things for Mom is one of my new favorite Mommy blogs. (Sorry, Dads, but this one does seem geared towards the maternal crew.) Each post features a truth, a tip, and a find by different writers, and many of them are truly inspirational. In honor of this great new blog, I thought I’d offer a Mindful Parenting version with a truth, a tip, and a find, about kindness and parenting.

Truth

“The way we talk to ourselves influences the way we parent. So often we don’t understand what our child is expressing because we’re caught up in our own thoughts or feelings . . . We see how we generate much of our own suffering through what we tell ourselves or through our desire to have things be different from how they are now . . . May we pay attention with kindness to what is happening within us and within our children.”- Denise Roy, MOMfulness: Mothering with Mindfulness, Compassion, and Grace

My older daughter (age 4) and I have been talking about my meditation practice lately. She knows where my meditation cushion is, and she understands that I use it to sit and pay attention to my breathing. She also knows that meditating helps me stay calmer, happier, and less likely to get frustrated and snap at her and her sister. I’m happy to talk to her about it, but to be honest, I wasn’t really expecting her to meditate yet. Then I did a Google Images search for “child meditating” and came across a range of amazing pictures of children sitting “criss-cross applesauce” (as my daughter would call it) with their eyes closed. They’re pretty incredible.

Needless to say, I was thrilled to find out that my daughter is also learning about these concepts from her daycare providers and preschool teachers. She came home the other day talking about a book in which a cow gets really mad and then learns to meditate from his grandfather. (I mentioned it on my Facebook page and got a great response!)

Our copy of “Moody Cow Meditates” by Kerry Lee Maclean arrived yesterday, and my daughters were excited to read it. It’s a lovely story, and was very age appropriate for my 4 year old. Some of the concepts may have been a bit advanced for my younger daughter (she’s not yet 3), but she seemed to enjoy it quite a bit anyway.

My four year old daughter has taken to dancing naked whenever the opportunity arises. She’s never been one to take off her clothes at random times (thank goodness for small favors!), but each morning and night, it’s go time. The minute she’s fully undressed, she starts wiggling and twisting, shaking her hips, throwing her arms in the air and sashaying across the room. Music or no music, it doesn’t matter. She’ll dance until she collapses on the floor in giggles.

It’s adorable and hilarious. It’s my daughter at her best: creative, funny, silly, completely comfortable in her own skin, and grateful for an audience.

I love being that audience. Most of the time. Far too often, though, I was focused on trying to wrangle my daughters into their pajamas or their clothes, pushing them through the transition so we could get on to the next step in our day. I was missing out on the good moments.

A few months ago, I wrote a post about deleting all of the apps from my iPhone in an effort to be more present with my children. I’m sure none of you will be surprised to learn that those apps are back.

Here’s what happened. In the first few days after I removed the apps, I became intensely aware of all of the ways in which I had been using my phone. I was unable to share pictures of my girls with their grandparents and great-grandparents, and I missed reading the status updates from friends and family members. I couldn’t check the news or the weather or any of the blogs I read regularly. As we only have one TV, and it’s rarely on during the day, and my computer is up in our office, I felt quite disconnected. I quickly found myself using the internet app (which I hadn’t removed) to access everything online, which was fine, but certainly less convenient.

And here’s the thing: deleting the apps on my iPhone didn’t fundamentally change my parenting style or the extent to which I am present with my children. What really mattered was whether or not I chose to engage my awareness, to truly be with my kids. The reality is that sometimes my girls need my presence and my connection, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I have it to give, and sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I just get it wrong.

My husband and I are both fairly heavy technology users (something I am actively struggling with, as you all know). We have smartphones, tablets, and computers, and we love thinking about and discussing the ways in which technology can make our lives better, and worse. Josh is aware of my interest in mindfulness, and he has asked me on more than one occasion what I would put into a mindful parenting app.

The truth is, I have no idea. Ok, actually, I have a lot of ideas, but I don’t think the technology is there yet. I would like an app that will cook dinner each night, potty train my toddler, remind my preschooler to turn on the water before she covers her hands with soap, and sense when I am about to lose it and remind me in a reasonably non-annoying voice to stop and take a deep breath (or twelve).

The reality is that there is no shortage of apps related to meditation, mindfulness, and happiness. Seeing as how I have been feeling stuck lately, my gut reaction is to download every single one in hopes of finding one that will help me navigate the tricky world of parenting in a mindful way. I love the idea that I could tap on a tiny square and all of a sudden the answers I need to all of my parenting questions will suddenly appear on my tiny screen. Should I put my insolent toddler in time out? Tap here! Should I buy my 4 year old the new Fancy Nancy book she has been obsessing over? Tap here!

Sigh. If only.

“You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day, unless you’re too busy. In that case, you should sit for an hour.” –Zen Proverb

I’ve spent the past week taking care of two sick children. Since Monday night, we’ve had one trip to the ER, two trips to the pediatrician, several nights of coughing, and multiple sick days cooped up at home. Needless to say, I have been exhausted, and I let my self-care lapse. I haven’t meditated in over a week. The frigid weather and sick kids at home made exercise a challenge—one that I didn’t take seriously enough. My fatigue and mindlessness led to poor dietary choices (that’s code for way too much chocolate and sugar). I didn’t notice how everything was affecting me until tonight, when it all fell apart.

We are one week into the new year, which means that many of us may have already let go of some of the resolutions we set just seven days ago. While the idea of starting a new year fresh is incredibly compelling, the reality is that every day, even every moment is an opportunity to choose something different, something new. In fact, that may be one of the greatest gifts my meditation practice has given me: the realization that I can come back to the present, accept it without judgment, re-focus my intention and attention, and begin again.

I wrote about my most important new year’s resolution–single-tasking–on January 1. I have done fairly well with it thus far, although meals continue to be a challenge. Rather than beating myself up for mindlessly scarfing down my sandwich (which I am prone to do–both the negative self-talk and the distracted eating), I am working to remind myself that each meal, each bite, is another opportunity to be in the moment, enjoy my food, and be grateful for the nourishment.

I had a post ready to go up on this blog on Friday morning, just before the news broke about the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut. My heart stopped, my tears flowed, and I no longer had words to share.

I’ve spent much of this past weekend thinking about how to think about all of this. Mostly, I have felt overwhelmed with sadness and anxiety. Like so many other parents, I have let my mind dip briefly into what I imagine the parents of Sandy Hook must be experiencing as they bury their children. The pain of even one such fleeting thought is so intensely debilitating that I immediately distract myself with anything I can get my hands and heart on.

Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” It’s an inspiring sentiment, but it’s not quite right, not today. If I were to let my thoughts define me today, I would spend the day swimming in grief and fear, desperately searching for ways to close in or strike out, to disengage from the violence and pain that has been flooding my sense for the past three days, despite my attempts to avoid the news. In my calmer moments, when I remember to notice the smell of my daughters’ hair or the sound of their giggles or the feeling of the floor under my feet or the wool on my skin, I am reminded that my thoughts are not reality. I am reminded that I can choose to hold them or release them. And I am reminded of perhaps the most painful, inspirational, and important lesson of Sandy Hook: that we truly only have this moment. Just this one.

I  just found this video by Martin Boroson and I wanted to share it with you all immediately. While the idea of meditating for 20-30 minutes every day is a great one, it’s not always possible–especially for busy parents. There are some mornings when I wake up early to sit only to hear my daughters crying from the other room five minutes later. Then there are the long nights when I’m up with my girls several times and I just don’t have it in me to get up early. I plan to meditate while they’re at daycare, but then the day gets busy and time gets past me and it just doesn’t happen.

Anyway, on those days, and really, on every day, this is a great little one-minute meditation, whether you have a regular meditation practice or not.