Where's the Village?

I've heard it said over and over again, that parents don't feel like they have a village anymore. So many of our relationships take place online, where you can't really bring someone a cup of coffee and do their laundry, or have become transactional rather being relationships built on mutual trust and respect.

If you are doing this alone, I want you to know that you are my absolute hero. It's brave, it's intense, and it means always giving your all to the tiny human(s) who adore you. You are absolutely amazing!

If you're worried you might have to do this all alone, this post is for you. When I was pregnant the first time, I had just stopped talking to my mother. It was a lonely, vulnerable place to be. As the oldest, none of my sisters had any children, and a majority of my friends didn't either. The one friend who did, often told me our experiences weren't the same because she hadn't gotten to make all of her own decisions as a teen mom. I thought the only "village" I would have, would be my husband- who is amazing, thoughtful and supportive, but not a mom.

That was three years ago, and after scaring myself into believing I didn't have a village, I felt blessed every-time I got a small reminder that I did indeed have one- just not in the places I was looking. This is for everyone who made up that village, and this is how they helped me long before I ever needed it. Your village may be out there too; its just not always who you expect.

group of people physically supporting one another.

Many of you know, I worked as a nanny all through college. Before that, I was a pretty popular babysitter- but that was mostly for older kids who needed rides and study guides, rather than toddlers who really relied on me to be a consistent figure for them. The first parent to trust me with their baby a few days a week probably changed the whole course of my career if I'm being honest. They gave me a chance to learn about an age group that I now love to work with, they helped me build my confidence, they showed me what working relationships built on mutual trust looked like, and she taught me the piece of parenting advice that is my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE OF ALL TIME. That's right, my favorite parenting tip isn't even mine. It's okay that it's not mine though- cause that's how I know they've always been a part of my village. The village includes people who are willing to share their parenting advice with you, because they learned from experience they are willing to share. That means, even if you've never met her, but I've shared her tip with you, then she could even be part of your village!

"Don't say 'no' over things that aren't dangerous. Say uh-uh, or stop, or redirect, but try to save 'no' for things that need to stop immediately. Saving the word 'no' for a serious situation helps discourage them from saying 'no' as an answer to literally everything."

I followed this tip with every nanny kid after-words, my step-daughter, and all of my own children, and I can proudly declare that I am yet to have a "no" phase on my hands. Don't ask me about "why" though, why is a totally different story. why? I'm not sure. Why? I really couldn't tell you- I tried to limit the use of Why to my kids too. Why? Why...

There were other, equally-amazing, nanny clients too. They had great parenting tid-bits to share ("Let kids solve kid problems, when they aren't asking for grown-up help. It teaches them problem solving and communication.") but they also taught me, at the time I needed it most, that strong relationships are built on communication and honesty. I was working a lot. I needed to pay for college, and I needed all the reasons not to be at home with my parents. When I needed to make some extra money to pay for textbooks, or find something to do for a couple hours rather than going home, they always came up with a reason for me to be there, even if the kids were watching me as much as I was watching them. They never told me they thought I was doing too much, just that it was amazing how hard I was working. They helped me believe that I could do all the things I was committed to being able to do- and a lot of those are still hats I wear as a postpartum doula now. When I started to branch out from my college classes and take additional trainings in things like postpartum care and sleep consulting, they went from investing in me emotionally to investing in my financially.

One of those many jobs I worked, was as the substitute for a local non-profit organization that got books, tools, and education to local families who may otherwise not have been able to afford it. Kids came with caregivers of all sorts: parents, grandparents, aunts, and even foster-parents. Some of the parents took the bus to get there, because owning a car was outside of their wildest dreams, and some came to us only when they were visiting their big, fancy, upstate vacation homes. No matter where they came from, they all came together for their kids, and to read their kids stories - and that was another kind of magic to me. It was knowing that there would always be a place I could bring my kids, and even if the people there weren't my closest friends, maybe not even people I would ask to watch my kid so I could go to work, there were other people doing the same sorts of things as me: parenting, "play-grouping", and reading to kiddos.

As you might have guessed when I said that I wanted to work more than I wanted to be home as a young adult, my immediate family wasn't all that close. In fact, trying to figure out how to be close to anyone in a maternal role was a really uncomfortable feeling for me, and it still is. I love my in-laws. They are thoughtful, kind, honest, and silly in all the ways that fit with my silly. Sometimes, I have trouble telling them that I love them, because its just not a phrase my parents and i used in a meaningful way all that often. No matter how many times I hesitate to say it back, or let the kids respond for me, my in-laws still always tell me they love me. They tell me I'm doing a great job, and so many other things it really helps to hear. (Not only do they say it to my face, but I've definitely caught my MIL bragging about me to her book-club friends, and I'm lucky to be able to say I love the things they say about me behind my back.) Sometimes, though, I'm sure what they've said about me is said before I get there to overhear it. Sometimes, your village is people rooting for you without ever telling you.

As I'm writing all of this, I realize that it sounds like I've done nothing but kid-friendly work my entire life, and that's only mostly true. There were several years where, in addition, to teaching or babysitting, I was cooking. As a very picky eater myself, this isn't a job that came easily to me. I nearly quit at least once a season, if not once a week. Kitchen work is hard, and I've never worked with anyone who didn't think so, but it can also connect you with some amazing people. The head chef I worked under at several of those restaurants falls under that category. Sure, she taught me how to flip an egg with a flip of the wrist, or what to do if someone who is allergic to chili peppers accidentally eats one, but she also taught me a lot about leadership, grit, and growth. She made her dreams become a reality and is running a flourishing not-so-small-anymore business, but is also an incredible mom. She balances the needs of her business with the needs of her kids, who are sweet, smart, athletic, and very brave. Her kids are the reason my kids know that they can climb on top of log-cabin shaped playhouses and jump off, but she's also the reason that I believe I can build a whole log-cabin, or small business, jump right off into the deep-end, and still remain deeply connected to my kids. By following her example that if you work for your dreams, your dreams will work for you I've found a special niche in my village of other business-owning moms who totally understand where I'm coming from when I answer work emails between bottles and baseball practices.

Back to my pregnancy though, after I started to worry about not having a village, I went out and found a doula. I expected some childbirth education and labor support for my investment, but I got so much more. The doula who I hired to be my birth doula was such a calm and reassuring presence throughout my entire pregnancy and postpartum that I thought "Wow, I need this to be accessible to everyone else!" and that's when I got certified to do birth work. I had hired her for a service she provided, but I could never put a price on how much she has added to my village since. She became not only my doula, but also a friend and a mentor. She helps me navigate being a business owner, network with others in our field, grow my offerings, but also always reminds me to take care of myself and appreciate the family I have around me.

While I work a lot, and want to talk about my work (a lot) I also take my role as a parent very seriously. I encourage my kids to participate in activities they enjoy, but maybe not every single one because I don't want them to be overstimulated and exhausted. I encourage them to try things out of their comfort zone, and I show up for whatever they're excited about as often as I can. this involves standing next to a fence, or a bench, or peering across a field pretty often. When there's younger sibling in tow, they'll be trying to squirm away and find something else to do. The first couple (hundred) times this happens, its terrifying and sad. You want to watch the Big and the Little all at once, and, even though you have two eyes, they should really all be pointing in the same direction. There are other parents doing the same thing though, and they are so ready to jump in and help. Sorta like how the enemy of my enemy is my friend, the village that surrounds my kids friends, also surrounds my kids, and, therefore, me. Sometimes that looks like the dad we know at BMX helping my son balance on the downhill because the baby won't let me put her down to do it myself. Sometimes its the moms at co-op who watch my littles so I don't have to wait to take the biggest to the Dr. when she falls. Sometimes it's the playgroup parent who shares their wipes when you realize yours are frozen from being left in the car. Sometimes its the mom in line behind you at the grocery store who makes faces at your baby so they giggle instead of screaming, at least long enough for you to remember your debit card pin.

I wanted my village to be organic, but the trend of "if you want a village you need to be a villager" really helped me find some reality. It changed the way I look at parenting events and classes from "What if everyone there already knows each other except me?" to "what if someone else is just as scared as me to go for the first time- and we can make it through together?" I went to a peer support group for lactating parents- I was the only one who's baby slept in her bassinet every night, but I still was able to bond with all the moms who've experienced the pain of a latched baby whipping their head around while still drinking. I went to see the baby-wearing library, and that led me to get invited to two other groups (which I still haven't managed to attend) and got me a lead on a location for my village-building project: book-club. I haven't tried the carrier I borrowed last month a single time, but it was still a super useful thing for me to have spent an hour doing. I try to show up for whoever I can, however I can, and hope that the people around me do the same thing, because everyone deserves a village.

hands together for cooperation!

I have a village. It isn't my parents and my next-door neighbors, and some of the people in my village were people I went out and found on purpose- but that doesn't make them any less valuable. Raising children is rewarding, but it can also be hard, emotional, scary, unnerving and overstimulating. Its okay to not want to do it alone.

If you've been a part of my village, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

If you're on your way to finding your own village- I'm here to help. Send me a message anytime. Invite me to that group you want to try. Meet me for a walk or a cup of coffee.