Author Archives: nadinelebean

Making the connection.

It’s been running through my head for weeks now. What Michael Beckwith said was “It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve gotten it wrong…because the moment you get it right, it instantly connects you.”.
And it can be so true, I am noticing.
This one sentence has healed me in my parenting a lot.
How often do us parents dwell on all that we’ve done wrong? What fears do we harbour over the damage we are doing to our children because of all the mistakes we have made?
This one quote, It’s opened me up to what is next and allowed me to leave behind what has happened.
There has been a lot of things that I have resisted even though it continued to feel bad. I use to sneak off into the bathroom, locking the door for a moment to shower or poo in peace. What ended up happening was me rushing, clenched butt and vigorous shampooing through the frantic loud bangs and yelling at the door. I’d bounce up and down declaring my desire for peace.
One day I decided to let it go and stop trying to harbour my own sacred shower. Instead of sneaking, I informed them all that I was going for a shower and then I did the unthinkable…I left the door open. I kept my mind open to visitors, even if that included little naked people suddenly appearing at my butt coming in to enjoy MY warm water. What happened next was unheard of in the world of mothering…
I finally got my sacred shower.
I didn’t feel bothered even when someone came in to ask me if
It was a good idea to melt crayons in my fancy overpriced pot. It was peaceful even as I yelled “Nooooo!”.
This is only one example of how I’ve gotten it right and been instantly connected to what I was longing for.
When Aayla was born, I had been enjoying sleeping in the spare room, just her and I while Michael and the other three kids slept in the big room. I enjoyed this space and time to connect with my baby alone, so when Nova asked if she could sleep with us, my first horrible mother thought was “NO. How could you intrude on our sacred time?!?”
But what could go wrong with bringing in more babies to love? I brought her into our space and sometimes it’s one of the boys that needs it and so I just say yes.It feels
So good to just embrace it and not fight to try and set up these peaceful situations for me. Instantly connected. It didn’t change anything, having the older child in there except that now I had a barrier to keep Aayla from falling to her death out of bed. It also deepened the connection between us and it was surprisingly easy to just embrace it.
What are you resisting that you could give in to? Tell me about it? Was it easy? What did it change?

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The Wandering Market Family is Expanding. This is the beginning.

Yesterday I stared into nine month old Aayla’s potty of her morning excrement. A bright pink balloon was staring back at me as if saying to me again “what are you doing?”.
Even though we were careful, she had somehow found and eaten and thankfully pooped out a balloon.
It reminded me of the video I watched of The Midway Project where they photograph carcasses of birds decaying, exposing their insides full of plastic. This video really affected me as I thought about all the plastic trinkets we have had at birthday parties, festivals, camping and on and on. A party often feels like an exception to be less mindful as we bring out the plastic toys and disposable cutlery to celebrate the event.
I think a lot about discontinuing my use of plastic as a way to support the earth. I know others are doing it and I could too but I haven’t yet.
But this post isn’t about feeling guilty. It’s about finding what inspires you to be better and do better as it leads towards our ultimate fulfillment.
Stick with me.
I have been sitting with these feelings for a while. I ponder them as I haul out massive garbage bags to the back to magically be taken away and be buried into the earth. I can see the overflowing dump from the edge of town. It is surrounded by fields of food growing around the massive heap. Garbage that has flown in litters the wheat and peas and barley and we see each other at the post office and smile as if it doesn’t exist.
This is only a small drop of polluted sand in Saskatchewan compared to the other problems like the chemical runoff into fresh water which is also the water we drink.
My neighbour doesn’t live there anymore but she comes back once in the summer to douse her yard on a windy day with chemicals. It’s just a few feet away from where we grow food. What are we doing?
I’ve sat with this for a long time, waiting to feel empowered by love and not my anger.
The time has come.
I love watching my children playing with such easy joy in the sand. We went to the lake yesterday. I sat with Aayla while she slept. I watched our future unfold as Michael walked around picking glass and other garbage out of the earth where they were playing. I noticed the children begin to follow him around and Nova even began to help him pick up. She came to me curious about things that biodegrade and things that don’t. She began putting various collected garbage in water to see what would break down.
These events inspired in me the thought

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Let’s not end the “mommy wars”!

I go on fb and scroll through post after post about how to be a parent mixed in with many that ask that we end the mommy wars and just accept that we are all unique.
As I look at the titles of them, one after the other, I breathe in curiosity and ask myself how I really feel about these posts. I read some of them, I skim others.
Do they bring people together or are they devisive?
Are they expressing what we really want to say?
I don’t know, but it really makes me wonder why we want to control one another so much. As I write this I notice my wanting to control people controlling.
I Let it go and let them live with their posts.
I Let them live not only with my acceptance, but with my honouring. I honour you on your path whether it be a specific side of something or a mission to end mommy wars. We all do what we gotta do.
It’s all perfect anyways if I say so.
We have such power to create our own existence. Or maybe it’s like letting it flow in. I’m just developing it as I goofy go. It’s my calling to be in a state of eternal silly. It’s one of the things that connects me.
What are you called to?
What connects you?

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That’s a baby-puked-in-my-mouth selfie!

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What if we all stopped talking? Where would we be without the opinion? Who would we be without the horror of spanking children or our defence of it? Who would we be if we remained silent. What if we silenced our words and our thoughts knowing That they are already being said? What important newness would come About? What if all that existed was the sound of your own body intermingled with the cacophony of the outdoors? Can we silence ourselves for just a moment?

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When Mum Goes Mad

Today I yelled at them while navigating around a minefield of yarn strung across all my paths. They wanted to learn to knit. With baby in arms lifting my legs dramatically high, I promised to never again indulge their desire to do anything.
I forgot that they are learning.
I sighed heavily at just thoughts of unravelling. I was able to make stories enough to make me cringe. Stories about the waste that would come when I eventually freed myself with scissors and how there would be bits of yarn everywhere.
I forgot that they were learning.
I was suddenly struck while on my knees cleaning. I was reminded of their process as I noticed the intricate knots it took to connect dining room chair to couch to down the hall to dresser drawer to bathroom stools. Slip knots, pretzel knots, totally stuck the fuck on knots and fisherman Cub Scout type knots were all demonstrated.
I really did forget that they were learning. I forgot that there is no linear fashion or organization when it comes to real experiences.
How could I not remember that they are always taking things in and trying new stuff out?
Let’s hope my discontent mumblings and rants will inflict minimal hindrance to their learning. Let’s “knit”.

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Emmett’s making baby Aayla a hat. It’s almost done.

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Let them throw eggs.

A friend and I were having a casual coffee with an egg blended into it; a normal afternoon. Over her shoulder and into the kitchen I could see my youngest son wildly grab an egg and fling it into the air. The appropriate reaction is usually “What the fuck!?!?!?”. Because such a thing as throwing eggs is very intense. I stared at him doing this and wondered why and what would compel a person to do such a thing. The next egg went up and came crashing down onto the kitchen floor and then a third. He danced his body over in my direction and I managed to say without any emotion “why are you doing that?”. I mean, I really was curious… why was he throwing eggs?
I quickly investigated my own distant childhood to gain some perspective. I could not remember ever thinking “I want to be an asshole!” Not when I dumped gravy onto the carpet or when I cut up our only family pictures. I wanted to explore and create and do stuff. I really just wanted to do cool stuff.
So, Emmett tells me he’s making eggs on the floor. I guess that makes sense. How can one know what is possible without exploring it? Turns out that eggs can’t be made on the floor… Yet. Not with just linoleum and a wild ambition.
Emmett proceeded to grab clean and pristine towels and “clean up” the egg. I take a deep breath because his desire is so sweet. I’m quite touched by his attempt. I wonder how much the simple act of deep breathing can change ones life. Profoundly, I imagine. Deep and dramatic breathing has prevented me from my own angry reactions millions of times, a day. So, my greatest mission as a parent? It’s really just to get over myself and to see the deeper meaning in things. People really are curious by nature. We want to do cool things. Maybe next time, I’ll try throwing some eggs myself.

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How To Be Happy.

I used to be struck by desperate and stuck unhappiness. I thought it was something that came in and I would always ask why and search for the answer. I considered nutrient deficiencies, genetic predisposition and my situation. I needed to set more boundaries with people and meet my own needs better, I thought. I searched endlessly outwards for things to save me from myself. But no person, food, drug situation or thing could relieve the underlying discontent with it all.
As time went on, I discovered that life was not just something that was happening to me…

It’s more about how I perceive life and how I react to it. I is about being open. For me, It’s like life is this abstract painting, waiting for me to critique it and experience it’s beauty and pain.
With this, I have also discovered that happiness can come with sadness and other seemingly negative emotions.
Have you ever sat in your sorrow without thoughts of wanting for it to go away?
Have you ever breathed in your anger and let yourself feel it pulse through your veins?
There is so much to participate in and explore but sometimes I forget or I get tired. I’m learning to closet eyes rather than focus outwardly on all the negativity within me.
I’m increasingly more and more awed and intrigued by the continual flow and ever changing scenery that is my life. Maybe it’s your too? When you find yourself down, I wonder if you can also embrace yourself as you watch out your window and allow the sad, heavy eyes in to be seen through.
What I’m not trying to tell you is that I’m not this perfectly enlightened being. Anyone can do this. Anyone can make this choice.
I have in appropriately tried explaining this before and it was perceived as invalidating to someone who is experiencing depression. But that’s the beautiful thing, I accept you in your depression. How can I know what is your path?
For my own depression this was liberating to know that I could make these choices. It also meant that I could embrace the housecoat, non-cooking and cleaning patheticness (haha) without guilt.
And so it went away.
These days, I wake up sore and tired sometimes. I stumble out of bed ready to be irritated by the first thing. I say to myself “I’m irritable.”
And then I remember my promise.
The promise to keep on choosing happiness and love.
I work at it all the time.
It’s the recommitment to this work and to staying inspired that has made all the difference.
In the simplest of things, like this, I find my happiness, which has really turned out to be acceptance of it all.
I don’t want to spend my life searching for the time when I was two, six, nine that has made me so psychopathic. I don’t want to use my one life being unhappy; that makes me unhappy. I want to really spend this life really enjoying. really, really.
why the hell not?
:D

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It’s not for nothing.

Sometimes my life feels small. I do a lots of the same mom things over and over. Like picking up bits of paper with sticky food socks and the same toys again dusted over with the days dirt. I keep on, re-committing to the never ending process of cleaning up and being a mom. I’m making peace with this daily cleansing. I’m embracing it, knowing that it’s what I have and it’s huge. It’s life and if I look carefully I’ll see the deeper meanings. My children are growing older and are
expressing their awareness of my commitments. They notice when I clean up and they thank me. I’ve never asked them to say thank you and so It means a lot that they do it out of their own free will. But it’s more than just cleaning up and the children being grateful. I spent many days wondering if I made the wrong choice by imagining a full child-y childhood not forcing them to do adult tasks. I wondered with worry if I was creating children unwilling to work. I’ve wondered through it and been humbled by their tiny socks, remnants of the pictures they draw and the world they bring inside; rocks and sticks. I wanted them to see the pleasure that can be in taking care. I wanted them to act when ready, out of love and desire. They are starting to contribute to our house in big ways and with pleasure and joy. It means so much to me. Turns out that love is always the right thing to do. So if you’re unsure what the next step is, chose love?

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A wee note to my followers…

Hello! Thanks for following me and allowing me into your inboxes. It’s a very intimate thing to give someone permission to your inbox and I’m grateful that you’ve trusted my words enough to do so. I love when you comment and when you like my post, it lets me know that you’re listening and resonating with my words. I love that we are getting to know each other and that you get that I’m often silly. Let’s do this thing; lets discuss and follow our passions while figuring out this thing called life.

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