From the Deep

“Should the air pressure in the cabin depressurize, an oxygen mask will fall from the compartment above you. Place the mask over your nose and mouth, pulling the straps on either side to tighten the mask against your face. If you’re traveling with a child, place your mask on your face first, then assist your child.”

I love airplane travel, and have heard the above speech hundreds of times. Usually, I give it only cursory attention; having heard it so many times, I could probably deliver the spiel. But sometimes I wonder whether, in case of emergency, I really will know what to do should oxygen masks pop in front of my face and those of my children. I imagine my first impulse would be to help my children. Forget what the flight attendant says, my babies are in danger!

But why do the airlines give this advice? Do they hate children? Are children the disposable people on the plane? We all know the answer to this one: parents need to take care of themselves first so they can then help their children.

Applied to the rest of life where we face so many emergencies–spilled milk, sibling squabbles, skinned knees–we can easily forget this wisdom. Instead, we run between one disaster to another with little regard for our own needs. As parents of gifted kids, we may feel this even more. We’ve had to deal with more intense tantrums, discussions with teachers who don’t understand giftedness, appointments with professionals to help us deal with 2e issues, among others. At the end of the day, we fall into bed utterly exhausted emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Then we wake the next morning with low energy and dread for what the day might bring.

What might happen if we applied oxygen mask wisdom to all of our parenting? What if we took care of ourselves in the interest of caring for our kids’ needs? What might change then? How would we think differently? What would we do differently?

I believe some of us fear we’ll become selfish, narcissistic machines, doing nothing but going for massages and manicures. Our kids will go hungry and sit in squalor, crying, while we read our gossip magazines and sip our tea. But really, with the amount of sacrifice we’ve shown we can give, are we really even capable of this?

What if it were imperative that you took care of yourself so that you could take care of your children? What would you do? And what might the real results be? Could it be that your kids would have a mom who has more energy and groundedness from which to operate, more love to give away? Tell me what you think!

Yesterday I hit a wall. No juice left. After the nine-day Thanksgiving Break from school, preceded by three days home with a sick child, I felt no motivation or inspiration to tackle my to-do list which grows daily and exponentially, like mutant bacteria run amok. I didn’t know how I was going to accomplish the usual tasks, such as writing blog posts and answering e-mails, not to mention continue the added activities Christmas season often brings: the decorating, gift-list constructing, shopping. My tank was on empty.

Often, when my tank is on empty, I don’t think clearly, so I’m actually amazed that, unlike my usual pressing-through M.O., I somehow found the wisdom to temporarily unplug myself from life. (OK, I must admit, this was my sister’s idea. My older sister. She was right…again. Dang.) I only had a few hours before the kids bounced back home from school, but I managed to “go off the radar,” to separate myself from my computer and all my social networking plug-ins. I also ignored the toys strewn across several floors, the dishes in the sink, and the laundry. (This is no small feat in this house!)

Ah…it felt so good! I hadn’t realized the harried pace I’d been running nor the disconnect I’d been feeling from my life focus. Going off the radar gave me the opportunity to ask myself, to ask God, “What’s the point? Why am I doing what I’m doing? Does it make any difference?”

The answer didn’t come right away. Which was good…instead of making this break time “useful,” I really got to relax, and I desperately needed to relax! As I let go of my expectations for myself and immersed myself in a good book (and indulged in a bit of a nap), the answer emerged: DanceFormation. I’m not talking cheerleaders or ballerinas. What I’m about in the world is transformation: substantial, good, lasting life change. And since I love to dance through life, naming this focus–indeed this inherent value–DanceFormation seemed to express the overall sense of my purpose: to bring change in the world through fun and play.

This clarity has fueled my actions today: my Twitter posts, my e-mail messages, my dancing, my interactions with store clerks and friends. While doing all these things, I’ve asked myself “Where’s the possibility for transformation and joy here, for me and for those with whom I’m connecting?” It has led me to send Christmas well wishes far and wide, to name what I see in people, to apologize for times I’ve said something less than helpful. And my enthusiasm and energy have returned.

How is your energy level these days? Your inspiration? Your motivation? Could you, too, benefit from going off the radar? What might you find there if you do?