When Biking Together is Just the Beginning

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

When Biking Together Is Just the Beginning (Photo: Young white boy on a bike, pedaling down a multi-use path)

Stay right, stay right!” I yell. Pedaling behind him, I watch my five-year-old wobble down the pavement on his bike. While he’s put in hours of practice at the nearby park, this is his first time on the road.

Despite my urgent tone, my heart is calm. He follows my directions, moving right when asked and braking on cue. At stop signs, he stops feet before the line. He even yells, “Stop!” to warn me. Despite the wobbly shoulders, it’s as if he’s done this a million times before.

This was a vast contrast to a year ago.

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What Happens When We Step Back as Parents?

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

What Happens When We Step Back as Parents? (Photo: Young white boy holding a t-ball bat)

A white plastic ball. A red and blue t-ball stand. A a diminutive kid holding a large, yellow plastic bat.

Watching this scene play out at the playground with my two-year-old son, I tried not to interfere. After all, I thought, he should try it on his own. That is, until he started poking the ball with the narrow end of the bat. Poking it!

I walked over and tried to adjust his hands into the right position. “Look, you swing the bat!” I insisted.

And because my children are nothing of not their own people, he insisted right back.

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The Life Lessons I Want My Kids to Gain from Gardening

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

The Life Lessons I Want My Kids to Gain from Gardening (Photo: Two young white children standing in front of giant sunflowers)

“Don’t walk – just stay there,” I told my two-year-old as he maneuvered around the wheelbarrow in our garden. Squish! His foot came right down on a squash vine. Oh well – there’s plenty more where that came from.

Even though my kids aren’t always gentle when it comes to my plants, they bring joy to my gardening. I think it benefits them too. Besides the health benefits, there’s a bunch of valuable life lessons I hope they pick up from our adventures in growing food.

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What If We All Had the Confidence of a Five-Year-Old?

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / Leave a comment

What If We All Had the Confidence of a Five-Year-Old? (Photo: Young white boy climbing up a playground structure)

“Don’t worry, I’m being careful!” my five-year-old said as he tried to pick up a piece of broken glass off the kitchen floor with his bare hands.

Twitching a few times before getting the words out, I said, “No, stop, don’t pick it up! With some things it doesn’t matter how careful you are – they aren’t safe.”

I wouldn’t recommend anyone pick up broken glass with their bare hands. But his comment made me stop and think.

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How My Kids Are Helping Me Learn a New Skill

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How My Kids Are Helping Me Learn a New Skill (Photo: White woman holding an acoustic guitar with two kids in front of her)

“That is a noise a guitar should never make.” I wince as my five-year-old scratches the strings of my acoustic guitar again. “Seriously, knock it off.”

He switches to strumming. The out-of-tune notes combine together in a way that’s the opposite of harmonic.

“It sounds beautiful!” he proclaims.

“Uh, it really doesn’t,” I respond. “It really needs to be tuned.”

My two-year-old squeaks, “Tune!” and grabs the knobs on the top of the guitar’s neck, turning them wildly. So much for getting it more, rather than less, in tune.

As much as this entire process pains me, I keep getting the guitar out.

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Why a Bookshelf Helps Me Be A More Relaxed Mom

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

I never thought I’d be so happy about having a bookshelf with actual books on it. I haven’t seen this sight for more than four years.

These books have been in hiding – shoved under my nightstand, stacked up on the bottom shelf of an end table. There’s nothing wrong with these exact books. It’s the very act of placing them on a bookshelf and trusting that they’ll stay there that’s revelatory.

While books don’t jump off shelves, they do end up on the floor when a toddler pulls them down with his sticky, wet little fingers.

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What Happened When I Broke A Promise To My Kid

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What Happened When I Broke A Promise To My Kid (Photo: A bicycle on a wooden deck at night)

I never thought the image of defeated motherhood would have two wheels. But many things surprise you as a mom.

My beloved bicycle has accompanied me over thousands of miles of riding. Currently, its back wheel is decidedly non-functional. If I pumped it up to its full pressure or God forbid, rode on it, the whole thing would burst like an overinflated balloon. Even more importantly, the bike’s chain is twisted to heck. I would crash with the first push of the pedal.

My bike isn’t normally in this state. In fact, it’s like this because of a promise I made. A few weeks ago, I promised my five-year-old that we would go for his first “big kid bike ride.” While he’s biked endless loops around the playground, this would be the first time we’d go on a multi-use trail together, both of us on our individual bikes.

But something blocked my way.

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The Most Important Thing My Five Year Old Taught Me About Writing

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

The Most Important Thing My Five Year Old Taught Me About Writing (Photo: Journal with smiling sloths on it)

“What was your favorite thing today?” I asked my then four-year-old at bedtime. Earlier that day, we had our monthly “special afternoon” together, where we went to an indoor playspace with a giant artificial mountain and stopped at Starbucks afterwards for hot chocolate.

“Getting my journal!” he exclaimed. After hot chocolate, we had picked out a journal for him decorated with smiling sloths. Although he can’t write more than his name yet, he had been telling us stories and asking us to write them down. Instead of pieces of folded paper scattered all over the house, we thought it would be better to write them down in one place.

Hearing this answer warmed my writer’s soul to the core. It was completely unexpected and completely genuine.

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What Do You Do When Your Dream is Crushed?

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

What Do You Do When Your Dream is Crushed? (Photo: Hand of a person writing in a journal while they are sitting on grass)

My activist heart is tired. My mama heart is too.

Old-school conservatives would have called me a bleeding-heart liberal. I admit that I am – my heart certainly feels crushed and bruised these days.

Like many people in the United States now, feelings of guilt, shame and borderline despair threaten me on a semi-regular basis. I always keep going, but the awfulness tickles at the back of my mind. Those feelings came to a head most recently with the news about separating immigrant and refugee children from their parents. While I had always been able to clear my head previously, these horrors just kept on creeping back in. Even time spent with my kids reminded me of how much of a luxury that is.

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How a Dandelion Helped Me Look at My Son With More Love

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How a Dandelion Helped Me Look at My Son With More Love (Photo: A fuzzy dandelion)

Peeling the stem of a dandelion in half and rubbing it between my fingers, I say to my older son, “I used to do this when I was a little girl.” I let the stem curl up in my hand, then hand him the green spiral. “I used to pretend they were magic.”

He touches the slick interior, rolling and unrolling the piece of flower. Plucking another dandelion, he says, “It feels like Jasper, like fur.” It’s true – the dandelion fluff does feel a little like my sister-in-law’s little terrier.

As I rub another stem between my fingers, I drift back to childhood.

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