The Decibel Level: Meditating Amidst My Children's Noise

Sometimes the noise in this house drives me bonkers.

As a mother who tries my darnedest to open my heart to as much energy as my children have to share with me, and as a mother who values the creative clamor that comes from instruments and pretending and singing and laughing and joking, and as the mother of a really ear-piercingly screechy Baby #6 who never took a pacifier and has now grown into a really ear-piercingly screechy 23-month-old...

I expect a lot of noise.

But wow. Sometimes...

And the decibel level follows me wherever I go. I feel like a noise magnet...especially when I'm cooking dinner or on the phone or in the bathroom. I don't think I've successfully ducked away to the bathroom in the last 10 years without hearing, "Mom...Maahuum...!!!"

I find that the noise level is hardest to handle when my mind is busy thinking and churning over something deep and personal and bothersome. When my brain needs time and space to solve a major (or minor) life issue, I crave quiet.

But quiet is hard to come by in my neck of the woods.

So, what's a mother to do?

The other day I sat in the middle of our living room floor like a zombie because my mind was full of some big, worrisome thoughts. I just couldn't bear to let more chaos into my body and I felt like exploding when trumpet noise and piano noise and "Mom, how do you spell..." noise and "Mom, listen to this" noise and "Mom, can you..." noise and "Whaaaa!!" noise all echoed off my ear drums at once.

I almost screamed, "Why in the world are we all in the same room together??!!"

The thought of retreating behind a closed door...for just a few moments (or until Daddy came home)...seemed like the only solution. Instead, I shut down right in the middle of my bouncing children and I built a mental wall to protect myself from all of the noise, noise, and more noise.

I knew my children noticed (because children always do), so I added guilt to my list of emotions.

But then an idea came to me.

Is it possible to meditate in the middle of noisy, needy chaos?

I summoned my executive prefrontal cortex brain cells (PFC) and together we decided to stop building a defensive protection from the innocent noise surrounding us...and instead welcome it in.

My natural mind objected and argued that an all-out invasion would threaten my peace in unthinkable ways. It reminded me that self-defense was the only weapon I had complete control over and therefore the only way to fight for personal peace. But my PFC and I felt determined to take a stand nonetheless and try something different...something selfless.

So I set my personal struggles aside for a moment and...

I turned my attention to my son playing his trumpet. I watched him carefully. His eyes were focused. His fingers moved fluidly. He struggled on a few notes. He tried again. He smiled when he finished his piece. My eyes softened and agreed with his...success after many attempts IS so satisfying.

Next, my mind shifted to my daughter playing the piano. Her feet dangled at the bench. Her self-created pig tails swayed gently back and forth. The song she was playing...I clearly recognized it...it was the one that was such a challenge several weeks ago. When she turned to share her triumph with me, I was already watching her.

"I love listening to you play," I smiled.

Then my six-year-old...what was she writing anyways? Was it a thank you note? A birthday card? Ahh, this time her creation was a pretend math worksheet. She's been watching her older brother a lot lately. Such diligence in that mind of hers. I admired her fingers for a moment or two longer as she formed a line at the top of the page and wrote "Name" and then I turned my focus to...

Miss Cienna. A few minutes earlier she had asked me if she could pretend to be my dog in real life. This is a question I'd answered at least a hundred times in the last month, so "Yes" came spilling out of my mouth without me really noticing at all. Satisfied with my half-answer, she was now crawling around on the floor and talking to herself and several of her stuffed animals. She barked occasionally.

"Cotton," I called. "Come here, Cotton! I want to give my cute doggy a nice back scratch." She bounded over with her tongue hanging out and a very large grin on her face. She panted happily. Wow was it easy to make her day. And having a mind that's quick to forgive, quick to accept, and quick to share simple joy must feel so enlightening.

Finally, my MaryAnn (Kenny was away at school). MaryAnn squirmed on my lap, making irritating whiny sounds which indicated that she, too, was wrestling with how to digest all of the chaos in the room. (I don't blame her...she doesn't have much of a prefrontal cortex yet to have the option of choosing something other than self-defense.) She could also sense my attention on her siblings and naturally yearned for a piece of it. I rolled backwards onto the carpet and pulled her on top of me. My eyes met hers. Her face lit up. "What is she thinking?" I wondered. The one the thing she cares about most in life is getting her mama's attention. So simple, so sweet, so pure.

As I turned from my inner noise to truly focus on the noises my children were making, what a houseful of lovely surprises I found. When thoughts of chaos threatened to return and take over during this meditative experiment, I noticed their existence and politely asked those thoughts to wait while I focused on something that would strengthen me in my time of need...my amazing children.

Later, I still churned over whatever challenges needed churning...but my children's decibel level that I had been protecting myself from became the very healing balm I had needed to sooth my heart and face those tough adult-issues again.

<This is my Mother's Day breakfast in bed. I used to think of Mother's Day as the one day I deserved a retreat...away from my children. But over the years I have noticed the innocent enthusiasm of my children as they climb in bed next to me to proudly show me which part of breakfast their little hands had prepared. Then they naturally reach over to share my orange juice and eat some eggs. They seem to cuddle me with extra hugs all day long to show their gratitude for having a mother. I have realized that isolating myself on a day when my children are bubbling with celebration for ME would cause me to miss out on a whole lot of love. So, now I expect (and love) that Mother's Day is a day where my children are glued to me all the more. I will soak in these types of Mother's Days because some day these children of mine--the very reasons I am called a "mother"-- will be too big to squeeze all together onto my bed with me. I will miss that.>

So what exactly DID we do this week?

Sometimes it's hard to picture what a homeschool family does all day.
Sometimes Friday comes along and I, too, wonder if the past days' hours and minutes were well spent.
Sometime I think yes.
Sometimes I think no.

And sometimes I feel like sharing a bit of what occurs when I give my children time and space to explore and create. Keep in mind that the wonder you'll see below could only happen because I intentionally limit planned academic rigor to just a few minutes a day for my kids under age 8 and maybe to an hour or two a day for the older ones. So here's a collection of this week's moments. I'm positive they were well worth adding to my children's long list of life experiences AND developed their brains just as they needed:

 <The Boys went on a campout last Friday night. So the girls dug out their tea sets. Naturally.

It started simple...and grew...until it resembled a full blown Fancy Nancy party that included costumes. 

My girls hosted. I just played along.>

<above pic by Cienna>

  <For the other half of the day that the Boys were gone, I unveiled a shrinky-dink fairy kit that I'd purchased at JoAnn's back on Black Friday and was saving for a rainy day.

 For $10 (or whatever I paid for it), entertainment ensued from 2pm until bedtime and into the next day. Our new fairy friends even liked what we ate for dinner and picked the bedtime story.>

<I loved this book when I was a kid, too!>

 <After studied detailed YouTube clips, Kenny mastered the 4x4. Well done.>

<We discovered Spring's first blossoms.>

<Diggy tested out the walking stick he'd carved last fall. It still works.>

  

<Diggy took the younger girls outside for some fresh air. They created a skit together. After showing me, they bowed and I clapped.>

 <Cienna tested out her running shoes...and discovered that they make her run so fast she gets out of breath.>

<And then it rained and rained and rained. Our back yard became a pool for worms to gather for a Spring party.> 

 

<Brent had a few projects on his list...some swords for the musical Kenny is in next week, the leaky kitchen faucet, the front door lock...and so the kids were of course glued to his side. Especially Kirsti this week. She even helped him clean out a friend's flooded basement for several hours after all that rain.>

<Kirsti also participated in an awesome 3rd grade show led by the fabulous music teacher at the elementary school. They did 3 performances. She sang a beautiful solo.>

<Cienna felt proud of her progress on controlling the big red punching balloon.>

<We made good use of the library books.>

<Allison displayed intense interest in copying Diggy's long division work...number by number, line by line. The next day, I explained to her what division is. She asked lots of questions and wanted to write down some real problems of her own. We acted out 12 divided by 4 and 4 divided by 2, etc. She was thrilled. The next day, she wanted to do it again. So we did. I observed about 20 future math lessons soak deeper into her brain cells than if I had tried to push them in...all because she had been inspired by big brother, Diggy, a mentor. And it only took about 15 minutes.>     

<MaryAnn practiced making faces.>

<With a dismantled kitchen faucet, we washed dishes the Little House way. We had to carry buckets of water all the way from the creek (the bathtub), scrub by hand, and carefully dry everything using towels. Allison declared this activity as her favorite thing she's ever done in her entire life.>

<I sensed a migraine coming right before the dinner hour while Brent was away from the nest one day (my eyes get blurry about 15 minutes before the intense pain hits so I know it's coming), so I *snuck* up to the bathroom to soak my feet in hot water. A few minutes later, Kirsti took the above picture for me. I felt like Mrs. Large from one of my favorite books.>

Amazing Baby Brains

Babies are Amazing. And so are their brains. ; )

They start like this:

This is MaryAnn (**it’s NOT a new one**) at 20 weeks in utero.

I’ve only been studying brains (for fun) for a few years now, so even though I’ve marveled and oooohed and aaaahed at 5 other 20-week sonogram pics, my heart skipped a beat when I saw MaryAnn’s…because I’d learned that brains basically develop from back to front and from the inside out…and it felt incredible to see a live snapshot of this happening right inside my belly. (See all that black, empty space at the front of her head? Her prefrontal cortex neurons had yet to be developed even while her brain stem cells in the back were already humming along. And understanding that the prefrontal cortex region is the last and takes the longest to develop (well into our 20s/30s) is fundamental to why Brent and I raise our children the way we do (we made BIG changes awhile back and we’re all happier now)…it’s a beautiful phenomenon that I’ll try to explain in more detail as time goes on.)  

When the kids called the day after MaryAnn Emma arrived to see if I was ready to bundle her up and take her home, they said, “How’s MAES?”

“Who?”, I asked…and then they excitedly explained their clever nickname  (“It’s her 4 initials”) for our cute little angel. Now they’re thrilled when she turns her head at their high-pitched sounds of, “Hi MAES!” 

I think MaryAnn is a-MAES-ing.

Right after she was born when she just sat and stared off into space or jerked her little limbs around uncontrollably, the kids kept saying, “When is MAES going to look at us?!?” and “Why does MAES keep hitting herself?”

I grinned…and dug out my brain books. And we discussed MaryAnn’s billions of neurons while hunched over our frosted shredded wheat in the morning and how we’ll see her neurons wiring together a little more each day starting at the back of her brain (vision) moving forward (sides = hearing and language connections; top of head = touch and limb movement, front = personality and intelligence, etc.).
(Click HERE for some brain basics from a neuroscientist I like.)

“It’s a slow process,” I tell them. “We get to learn patience, practice lots-o-personal- sacrifice and experience the magic of human development (including our own) while MaryAnn depends on us to take care of her and help her grow.” 

**Smile and sigh** and on to grammar.

So, now that they know all about neurons and synapses, it’s like a 4th of July party at our house every time someone spots a new neurological connection taking place in our amazing MAES. (especially the time when her eye-hand myelination surprised us and MaryAnn deposited Kenny’s cereal bowl on his lap without her usual slow motion warnings…my baby’s growing up! *tear*)

A few favorite connection-detections:

Toe-sucking

(this takes lots of neurological skill, especially when excitement kicks in and sends all 4 limbs flailing again…so charming)

Consistently grabbing Diggy’s ear when he holds her…she saves this grip just for him

 

Bubbling with delight during piggy-back rides

Paying closer attention to her “violin lessons”

Putting weight on those cute, chubby legs

Enjoying the cool, fresh air and noticing the movement of the park swing

Clapping…right and left brain coordination…BRAVO

Playing Star Wars

and her favorite…playing the piano. This one is for the grandparents (and Mrs. Opitz).

I must say, having a baby is much like having a puppy. MaryAnn gives unconditional love and does not yet know how to add to the congenial teasing and arguing of her older, more advanced siblings. Plus, with her eyes watching, 3-yr olds put away laundry piles, 4-yr-olds eat another bite, 7-yr olds practice violin, and big brothers melt into baby voices and smother her with kisses.

My heart sings as I notice new connections, too: 2 months ago, I heard “ga” for the first time. Before, her brain had only connected a barking seal noise. And today, MaryAnn is 9 months old and her language neurons have her babbling away constantly (and protesting with a really loud scream when she loses her favorites toys, with the loudest screech coming after I reclaim my cell phone from her little hands…hmm).

Her window of opportunity for learning that objects have names is opening wider every day. I’m inspired by her intense focus as I share spoken language with her. She acknowledges her understanding of words like “book” and “drink” and “backpack” (because she sits in it nearly every day while I fix dinner) and her mirror neurons are preparing her to speak the English pronunciations for those objects…so very soon. 

But my favorite connection is that she knows ME now.

After nine months of growing in my womb and nine more cuddled in my arms, if she saw you and I standing next to each other, she would stare nervously at you (no offense) and reach for me. She has enough working memory to know that my face, my embrace, my scent, my whisper, my love is what fills her up with good feelings inside and reassures her as she starts exploring this wide world.

When she’s perched on my hip, her body is free from worry (life with 5 older sibs is a bit unpredictable or maybe predictably chaotic?) and her spirit is free to learn…so she spends LOTS of time there during this pivotal period (my right bicep rocks). When she’s playing on the floor, she loves to study her toys, but then looks for my eyes so we can share a smile together…every few seconds. As soon as my presence is absent, she notices (and screams nice and loud)…music to my ears (except when I’m grumpy).

“Smart Baby,” I say. I return as quickly as I can.

Now, she will forever look to me as her mother.

Knowing how eternally important this mother-child connection is, her longing for me, her squeeze around my neck, and her slobber on my shoulder fill me up, too.

It’s all simply a-MAES-ing.