personal development

Missing the Home in Hometown

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 5 Comments

When you’re a kid, you’re told to live up to your potential. As a chronic overachiever, I’m a little obsessed with that. So it was disappointing to realize that my hometown hasn’t held up its end of the bargain. On a trip home for Independence Day, my family shared some of the best my hometown had to offer. While I loved it, I couldn’t help but feel that the town is undervaluing some of its best resources.

I was happy living in the epitome of upstate New York suburbia, but by the time I reached high school, I also felt that things could be better. I knew that my town didn’t have a sense of place or provide me with a grounding other people had. Most of my fondest memories (outside my house) were in different towns altogether. The closest we had to a downtown was the mall, but malls are never true community places. Living in walkable towns and cities, from nearby Ballston Spa to Oxford across the pond, was revelatory. What I experienced in those places shaped a lot of my priorities when Chris and I looked for our own house.

So returning is always a little weird, realizing how different my assumptions and basic operating procedures no longer fit. Biking at night or during rush hour is near-suicidal. Walking anywhere is a challenge both because of distance and parking lots. The mall is still the center of retail. (Okay, so most of my current city’s center of commerce is a road surrounded by strip malls. At least we’re trying to improve.) There is zero mass transit.

But there are some similarities that still warm my heart: the dedication of volunteers, public spaces that have community buy-in, and beautiful natural places.

Our first stop was one of the town’s community-run firehouses, where my father-in-law is a volunteer safety officer. Despite the many things I disagree with my father-in-law with -from politics to food – I have immense respect for the many hours he’s given back. Before the engines headed off to the Independence Day parade, we received a personal tour. Sprout had the honor of sitting in a tiny truck that actually drove, which captivated his attention to the exclusion of everything else. Later on, a firefighter lifted him up onto the seat of a real engine, the height of which alone was startling. We even got to meet the official firehouse dog, an affectionate red bloodhound named Ruby. As we took the tour, I noticed small indications of the dedication and time these men and women put on the line for their community. Everything from the kitchen to the awards case spoke of great personal commitment.

Later, we visited a more historical testament to the willingness to volunteer: a giant wooden playground. The playground at the Commons (what I said the Adventure Playground reminded me of) was built about two decades ago by community members. Between hard labor and donated funds, our community made this awesome structure happen.  Chris and I both remember our parents pitching in and actually constructing it. We kids were assigned low risk odd jobs like soaping screws and sanding wood. I always thought of it as one of the few places in my hometown that had a distinct character and was a reflection of the people in it.

After it was built, I spent hours scaling its steps, peering out of its towers, and hanging upside down from its monkey bars. My hometown has very few playgrounds outside of schools, so it was special. Besides, all of the little passageways made it superb for hide and seek.

I couldn’t wait to watch Sprout experience those same joys. For the most part, he did. Following him, I spent a lot of time ducking into short passageways and climbing over walls that weren’t meant to be climbed. He especially enjoyed scaling a steep ramp and tiptoeing over a stack of tires that made up a bridge between two sections.

The playground at the Commons. Towers and climbing structures with a castle theme painted black.
Unfortunately, The Commons looked the worse for wear. The wood had been painted black, which gave it a weirdly somber tone, and even that paint job was peeling a little. Some sections were bordering on splintery. Parts of the playground that had broken – like cross-bars and a mat-like bridge – were just removed instead of replaced. There were bits here and there that showed signs of active maintenance, but they were few and far between.

What was the most disappointing was not the difference from my childhood memories, but the fact that the city wasn’t respecting the hard work the community members had put into it. The town’s lack of upkeep seemed to reflect their lack of interest in cultivating public spaces and engaging the larger community in them. As the firehouse showed, there is a real spirit of community alive and well in my hometown. The government just needs to tap into it.

The last mini-field trip we made was a tromp through a wildlife preserve to see a heron and osprey nesting area. Just getting to the trailhead was a challenge. There was no parking and no sidewalk, so we had to walk in the shoulder of a 40 mph road. The trail was narrow, overgrown and muddy.

But oh, what a swamp! To the left, five or six heron nests, conglomerations of random sticks in the notches of bare trees. Juvenile birds stuck their long necks out, chattering to their parents. With binoculars, we could see into the nests, getting a surprisingly close view of their awkward adorableness. As we left, two siblings got in a squawking match, tussling over some perceived slight. To the right, a huge osprey nest looking like it might fall out of the dead tree, one parent nearby chasing away intruders. A songbird kept swooping by the nest, perhaps trying to steal an egg or two. In the pond, a beaver dam was managing the water flow without revealing its residents. As we approached, a few frogs hopped into the water, perhaps sensing a grabby toddler on his way. Dragonflies buzzed the surface, flicking the tops of reeds. I reveled in it and while Sprout had a limited understanding of what he was seeing, he definitively enjoyed tromping through the woods.

Although I loved that we could visit this site, the path seemed both under-maintained and underutilized.  In addition, there was no signage that it existed from the road and walking from the parking lot with Sprout made me nervous. (I probably would have calmer if he wasn’t with me.) Just a sidewalk or pedestrian path in addition to the shoulder would help a lot. With a few additional resources, this trail could be available to more people without compromising its special nature.

My trip home reminded me of both the promise and the challenges my hometown faces in trying to remain vibrant. I hope that the community itself can realize the amazing potential they have available today and capitalize on it in the future.

Yoga for Parents of Babies and Toddlers

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment
Photo of young woman doing tree pose in front of a yellow wall. Text: "Yoga for Parents of Babies and Toddlers / We'll Eat You Up, We Love You So"

I love you all enough to take a photo of myself in spandex. I just couldn’t post a stock photo of a perfectly toned woman doing dancer pose on a rock. 

I’m a big fan of yoga. I find it helps me focus my mind, be more aware of my body’s relationship in space with other objects, and provide fun and balanced strength training. While I no longer have time to take classes, I try to fit in a solo session once a week. Since I’ve become a mom, I’ve found I have aches and stress in spot I never did before. Here are a few of the actions I find stress my body out the most and the yoga poses I’ve found helpful.

Note: I am not a yoga professional. Please listen to your body and be aware of its capacity.

Squatting down to talk to kids at their level
When my prenatal yoga teacher suggested squatting as a labor position, I almost laughed at the absurdity. I could barely squat without falling over; how the hell was I going to while in the throes of labor pains? While I certainly didn’t use it in the birthing process, squatting down to talk to my toddler has become part of my everyday routine. To resolve the tightness in my hips and thighs, hip openers like pigeon and lizard are very helpful. If you aren’t very flexible in these areas (like me), you can also do adapted versions of these that aren’t as demanding.

Kneeling for the bath
Before yoga, my leg muscles were so tight that I couldn’t kneel for a single minute. But as it’s the easiest way to bathe a small child, these days I have 15 minutes of kneeling daily. To stretch out my legs, I use vajrasana, thunderbolt, or kneeling pose. Doing it as part of a yoga practice forces you not to lean on anything for support and allows you to focus on your breathing rather than a small person splashing water at you.

Having my son sit on my lap
Before having a toddler, I always took sitting cross-legged for granted. But as he’s gotten heavier, having him sit on my lap has become more challenging. My feet fall asleep and my legs ache after the third or fourth book. The hip openers above also help here, but the most effective thing I’ve found is butterfly (also known as bound angle) pose. Just putting the soles of my feet together and very slowly pushing my chest towards them is very helpful. Don’t worry if your knees feel absurdly high up in the air – that’s when you need it most! When I did prenatal yoga, the lady in her third trimester on the video had her knees far closer to the ground than I could when I was in high school.

Carrying my baby in my arms when he was a newborn
As a newborn, Sprout cried if I put him down for more than 30 seconds. As a result, my arms, shoulders and back got quite a workout. Shoulder openers stretched out my muscles that were in a bunch all day. I find extended side angle pose particularly useful, as it’s relatively simple and you can really focus on reaching up.

Carrying my son around on my hip as a toddler
With Sprout much heavier now, carrying him is more like an anarobic workout than an aerobic one. The days I haul him around for more than a few minutes, my lower back is always sore. Doing cat/cow poses nice and slow works out some of the kinks. Plus, Sprout thinks it’s funny if I make the appropriate animal noises with them.

General exhaustion
Being a parent – being a person – is freaking tiring. Sometimes you just want to feel strong and powerful when your mind and body feel the opposite. Warrior II makes me feel this way on even the crappiest of days. Grounding my feet solidly on the floor and spreading my arms open wide gives me a sense of regal composure that sure as heck doesn’t come to me naturally.

Those are some of my favorite poses. Do you have any favorite yoga poses or stretches to get over our parental aches and pains?

The Myth of the Real Adult

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 4 Comments

The Myth of the Real Adult. Who is this real adult my mind keeps claiming I'm not anyway? (Picture: Woman talking to two kids at a kitchen table, dressed in a 1950s fashion)

When I look at our gross kitchen floor with bits of food that have been there for several days, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When I put Sprout to bed at 8:45 PM for the third night in a row, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When I look at the baskets of unfolded laundry, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When I think about all of the friends I haven’t emailed in months, years, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When I look at all of the unchecked items on my to-do list, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When the lawn is way too long and the garden is an overgrown mess, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When the dishes aren’t washed at 11:30 at night, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.
When I only remember my mom’s birthday because of Facebook, I feel like I’ve failed as an adult.

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Parenting: The Ultimate Role Playing Game (RPG)

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 10 Comments
Text: "Parenting: The Ultimate RPG / We'll Eat You Up, We Love You So" Photo: Purple role-playing dice spilling out of a purple bag with white dice next to it

Yes, you’re a nerd if you know what these are for.

Two years ago, I managed the difficult task of becoming an even bigger a nerd then I already was: I started tabletop role-playing. But my group’s campaigns aren’t focused on the battles and die rolling. Instead, they’re improvisational storytelling sessions. You create and dwell in a character, just as you would if you were writing a fictional story. Unlike writing, role playing requires you to be clever on your feet (even if your character isn’t!). So far, I’ve played a young innocent woman running away from court for a life of adventure (Pathfinder) and a socially blunt Nordic blacksmith who has been appointed as a trade guild representative (7th Sea). Because neither of these reflect a lick of my real-life experience it’s forced me to inhabit perspectives very different from my own. Developing this keen empathy for my fictional characters has sharpened my skills for relating to real people, including my son. In fact, creating a character has been good preparation for adopting to my new role as a parent.

To develop a character, you construct a whole person, with their own background and voice. You need consider what she would want in any given situation and respond accordingly. It can be seriously challenging.

But that process was easy compared to my mental and emotional transition to the role of “mommy.” Instead of coming up with a fictional identity, I faced a whole new facet of my own.  Rather than abilities like climbing I could write on a sheet, I suddenly had to learn a list of real skills, from diapering to breastfeeding. My own needs and wants hit me in a barrage of emotion, causing reactions that my old self would have never predicted. I cry at beer commercials! Sometimes I felt like a character in someone else’s life, playing an unfamiliar role.

I ended up handling both challenges with largely the same approach – fake it ’till you make it. I used to hate this idea, feeling that if you can’t do something well that “pretending” was fraudulent. But, I realized there’s simply no other choice. You can’t become familiar with a character until you play them for a while. No one knows what it’s like to be a parent until it happens. At first, it’s totally foreign. But by acting like a “good parent” even when you don’t feel like one, you eventually become one. C.S. Lewis has a good analogy in Mere Christianity, talking the process of becoming a “good Christian.” He explains that we will never reach Jesus’s level of love, but we can “put on his clothes” and practice. Just like little children walking around in their parents’ shoes, we too will grow into the people we need to be.

Courtesy of Cafepress

Courtesy of Catherine Bowers and Cafepress

In addition to helping me take on my new role, gaming has helped me see the world a little more through the eyes of my infant. If he had a character sheet, it would read strength 2, dexterity 1, intelligence 5 (current level of knowledge, not IQ), and charisma 18. While he’s since leveled up in forward locomotion and object manipulation, crying was his sole skill when he was born. Contemplating how much he had to learn – even eating and pooping! – helped me comprehend how overwhelming the world must be. Seeing the world from his perspective has reinforced my patience, even at 2 AM in the morning.

While many people make fun of role players for living in a fantasy world, it’s actually helped me be a better parent in the real one.

 

Reading Where the Wild Things Are as a Parent

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 8 Comments

"Re-Reading Where the Wild Things Are as a Parent" Some books resonate with you as a child and then again in a totally different way as an adult. (Photo: Young man reading Where the Wild Things Are to a baby under a baby gym.)

When my husband was three, my mother-in-law was convinced he could read. After all, he flipped through the pages of Where the Wild Things Are as he spoke the words out loud with perfect timing. But it just happened that he loved it so much that he memorized the entire thing, word for word.

While I never memorized it myself, Where the Wild Things Are too holds a special place in my literary canon. As a teenager, I remembered it fondly, along with Winnie the Pooh and Alice in Wonderland.

But then a series of events illuminated how much the book still speaks to me, especially since I’ve become a parent.

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