“What if?” If I had a dollar for every time one of my children started a question with those two words, well let’s just say that no one in my family would probably ever have to work again. There have been days when my husband and I have talked about the sheer exhaustion from the amount of questions our children ask. At one point, when my oldest child was about 5 years old, my husband decided to count the number of questions he asked, and it was 11 per minute. My younger child is a pretty decent match for that. And as they have gotten older, the number of questions hasn’t changed, just the breadth of what they ponder and seek to understand has just gotten deeper.

We recently had much of the interior of our house repainted. Sitting in my home now feels peaceful and relaxing because in addition to getting a fresh layer of paint, we also took the time to declutter. It is easy to feel grounded and centered when my surroundings exude a serene vibe.

But if you had asked me if I would be feeling this way just a few weeks ago when we were preparing for the painters and during the process it would have been hard for me to tell you that I could see the peace on the horizon. It wasn’t for a lack of preparation or a lack of trying. My husband is a builder and was beyond wonderful and thorough in preparing me for what to expect during the process. He organized everything in the house to be sure that the painters could get to all the places they needed. He warned me that our house would look like a construction zone while it was being painted, and he promised that it would all be worth it in the end. He did for me what I try to do for our kids when I know that a big transition is coming up…prepared me for what to expect and created a plan to navigate the unfamiliar situation. And while having that foreknowledge was invaluable, I still had (many) moments that took me off center during the project, and it all had to do with the state of my nervous system at any given point.

Last week my 15 year old son built a roller coaster in our backyard, and I couldn’t help but marvel in its engineering excellence, the thought and processing that was involved to make sure the seat stayed on the the track, and the excitement that he had in sharing it with neighborhood kids so that they could have their turn in the fun.

And then the thoughts of the hurdles my son has had to jump to try to fit into an educational and social model that was designed for people who are different from him in many ways, people who easily fit into the “do what I say, learn only what I teach, and regurgitate in a way that I expect it” model creeped in. The irony of the push to keep children in a specific box to fit the “norm” when it is clear that progress and ingenuity flourish only when we think outside the box was not lost on me.

This week I had the honor of being invited to a gathering of new mothers. As I sat among these strong, resilient women and their sweet babies, I was taken back over 11 years (my oldest child is now 14) when I first embarked on my own parenting journey. The goal for my visit with this group was to share my expertise as a professional who works with children, yet, I yearned to participate as a parent. I wanted to put my professional hat on a hook for a bit and sit with an open heart, engaged ears, and words of encouragement. Don’t get me wrong…I LOVE sharing what I do professionally, giving parents knowledge that can empower them when developmental challenges may be a concern. However, there is so much more wisdom to share with new parents, and sitting among these mothers reminded me of that.