Momma Practice

Moving On.......

2009-08-18T13:03:00.003-05:00

I am here to provide a sense of closure to the journey this space has taken me on as I realize that it has been seven months since I traveled down its path. I feel so different yet so familiar as a result of the growth that has taken place through my writings and musings but am no longer compelled to articulate my experience which now seems so distant and impersonal. Perhaps that is my fault for not honoring my commitment to the frequency of writing I intended, perhaps it is the natural progression of things. Whatever the reason, i am saying goodbye.

My departure comes with a few new and exciting aspects to my "practice". I completed my yoga certification and will hopefully be teaching in some capacity come fall. I met an amazing and eclectic group of people and will carry the experience with me in yoga and in life.

Sloane Elizabeth arrived in our lives on July 13th in a predictable intense and rapid fashion. She is the completion of something I didn't realize was lacking and has continued to inspire, challenge and strengthen my mothering journey in ways similar and foreign to that of her brother. I adore her.

Practice, practice, practice.

First Trimester Hiatus

2009-01-25T16:04:00.004-05:00

It has been a long time since I waxed poetic here. Right after my last visit we found out a new life has chosen us as his/her new family so between first trimester fatigue, the holidays and a needy toddler, there hasn't been much time to organize my thoughts in this space. I am going into my fourteenth week and things seem to be settling down a bit (for now) and I felt like I needed to connect here again. Being so early still in the pregnancy, I am still feeling slightly ambivalent about things. It has sort of a possibility in the distant future quality to it, as though a baby may or may not be coming in the next six months. Being pregnant for a second time while caring for an older toddler hasn't allowed me the luxury or ability to feel consumed by all things "what to expect" as my focus is elsewhere. I have also felt slightly better than I remember with my first, and I felt pretty good with him, so the thoughts of "am I really pregnant?" can be somewhat frequent. My barely noticeable to the naked eye expanding belly is starting to expand a bit more so it won't be long until the impending arrival of a new baby is known to the casual observer. Absent and not helping the matters of ambivalence is the instinctual knowledge of what the gender of the baby is that I had immediately with Liam. "Knowing" made it easier for not knowing when it came time for the routine ultrasound so we'll see if I can hold out again this time.

This family journey runs parallel to a personal journey I've embarked on beginning this month. I began my teacher training program and will be certified to teach yoga at the the 200 hour level by June. It has been a big commitment, but one I am excited and proud to have made. I am excited about all of the possibilities this will bring to my life's path and it is an incredible opportunity to be integrating the teachings of yoga with my pregnancy. I am sure more is to come on that later.

For now, I am doing my best to take in each moment as it comes and appreciate what is in front of me because I am all too aware of how quickly things change and the certainty of uncertainty. The joy is in the journey.

Things we lost in an hour

2008-11-14T13:51:00.005-05:00

I remember when "falling back" meant an extra hour of sleep (or an extra hour of partying depending on what stage of my life I am reflecting back on). Parents see the shift from Daylight Saving Time from a whole new perspective. The only thing I can come close to comparing it to is when I worked third shift in a drug and alcohol rehab facility and would get stuck working that extra hour making an already long night seem like eternity. Trying to force a baby or toddler to adapt to the change is like trying to force the tide in the opposite direction. So why we decide to transition our boy to a "big boy" toddler bed the night after the time change is a lapse in parental judgment it may take years for me to rationalize.

Liam was excited about his new bed and made no objections at all as we disassembled his crib and carried it in pieces upstairs. He even 'helped' put together the new bed although I suspect his helping increased his Dad's frustration with the project. After several hours of rearranging and strategizing, the big boy room was complete and I cried like a baby. This was reality check time and no longer would I rock my boy, scoop him up and tuck him in his crib safe and sound for the night. Liam made this painfully clear by climbing in the bed and proceeding to jump on and off of it all full speed once it was put together. That first night he was up several times
after sleeping soundly through the night for the better part of the last year and a half. Not only that, it later became apparent that he spent some portion of the nighttime wandering (in the pitch dark) through the basement pulling out games and toys and tossing them all over the floor. A gate in his doorway and a lock on the basement door followed the next day.

We are still working out the kinks of this transition and everyone's sense of security appears to have been dismantled with the crib. Our fairly reliable routine of putting Liam to bed in the evening not to hear from him again until at least 7 o'clock the next morning has been lost as well and the nights of tossing in bed anticipating the boy's cries have returned for me in an unwelcome fashion. Who knew gaining an hour could take so much.

I know the only constant is change and this too shall pass but the one loss that will not be found is the fantasy of holding on to my baby forever. One more milestone on the path of motherhood paved.

Yes We Can

2008-11-05T14:29:00.002-05:00

The mantra of change that our president elect chanted as a campaign slogan has renewed meaning in light of last night's election. We as a people have elected this man in historic fashion and I for one could not be more proud. However, this mantra has relevance in our everyday lives as well and we have a responsibility as individuals to rise up and hold ourselves accountable to be the person- women, mothers, wives, sisters, friends who we know resides within the essence of our being. The very best of ourselves is who we owe it to each other (our friends, families, communities, our COUNTRY) to be. Yes we can.

Be the change you wish to see in the world......Ghandi

Vote for the change you believe in

2008-11-04T12:18:00.004-05:00

As a mom, your perspective about the world changes. Things which were seemingly irrelevant to you in the past are now issues you confront daily out of the best interest for your child and family. Define what is most important to you and then seek out the elected officials who most represent those values. Although this is a historic election (as we are reminded daily) often the local issues and elected officials take a back seat to the larger scale races. Don't let them. Your parks, your schools, your libraries need your support just as much if not more than the other guys.

I am waiting with hope and anticipation for the outcome of today's election. I've done my part but if you haven't yet, go- now. Make a difference. 537 votes are not a lot folks. Your voice can be heard.

Breathing Lessons

2008-10-13T11:26:00.002-05:00

I had just put the boy down for his nap when I heard a thump. I barged back into his room, nostrils flaring, ready to belt out my best "it is nap time GO TO SLEEP" rhetoric when he popped his little head up from the mattress and said "mommy, what happened?". Turns out, something I had put on the stairs fell to the floor outside of his room. Whoops. I covered him up, tucked my tail between my legs and shut the door.

If I would have only stopped for a moment, taken a breath and proceeded I would have seen the yoga block on the floor and all of the nonsense above could have been avoided. Believe in your breath moms- it is the most powerful tool we have.

Speaking of yoga, I went to a new class this weekend and got all goosebumpy like I do when I feel like I've made a bit of that internal connection during class that I strive for during my mat practice. Talking with the teacher after class I realized the connection may have been with her. We were talking about the upcoming teacher training I enrolled in and she shared with me that she found out she was pregnant two thirds of the way through her own training and how having a child has completely changed her teaching perspective and personal practice. She said "it doesn't matter if I can hold a pose for twenty minutes, what matters is can I breath through an episode of my daughter dumping nail polish on the floor". Exactly. Just breathe.

Wonderment, Part Three

2008-10-10T11:54:00.011-05:00

I was rereading some old posts the other day when I came across one from last winter where I inanely wrote about a favorite expression of Liam's in his early verbal days. I got hit hard with a dose of "OMG, I forgot about that" and realized there would be so many things about our early days together that would be stored in the deepest parts of my mind, possibly found only with a prompt such as this. I suppose this is one of the many reasons that I share my thoughts and experiences here, as authentic (I hope) written documentation of all things wonderful and complicated motherhood has to offer. Here are some of the most current things I hope never to forget about my boy-

Dancing in circles to "Shake It"

Puppy Kisses
His love of my nana's cooking
"Doing his part" while I run the sweeper
Saying "let's do this" as we are going somewhere (thanks to his dad)
"mommy pick uppy"
The sweet nestled smell of his 'blankie'
Watching "Emeril Live" after nap
The all encompassing exclamation "Holy Moses!"

From this post to God's ears.....

Sweeter Words Were Never Spoken

2008-10-06T11:20:00.004-05:00

Last week was a bit of a challenge for our family. The wonderful time had by all (including Liam, Grandma and Grandpa) while we spent our first days apart came with a bit of a price. The boy struggled to transition back into our daily routine with all the neediness and whineyness a toddler has to offer. It was his way, I suppose, of letting us know he missed us and did not understand where we were or why we had left him- at least that is what I kept telling myself. After a few days of this I thought for sure I might lose my mind. Then it happened, the moment every mother waits for, the overwhelming emotional validation for all the sleepless nights, aching shoulders, endured tantrums, irrational worries- he said "I love you, mommy". I thought my heart would burst right then and there. He as been saying "luv you" when prompted (tell Grammy you love her) and has been known to respond "yeah" to me when I have said "I love you, Liam" so to have him walk up to me, hug and kiss me and then say "mommy I love you" was more than I could take. He has since walked up for random kisses ("kiss, mommy!") and other affectionate expressions, but I will always remember that moment, sitting on the floor in my Nana's house when those three little words were uttered.

Liam, I love you to the moon and back again.

Sowing the Seeds of Love

2008-10-01T10:11:00.003-05:00

This past weekend was the first time my husband and I have been away alone together since the boy was born. Almost two and a half years is a long time to go with very minimal cultivation of the garden which is your relationship. I have written here before about how difficult it is adapting to the change in dynamic that the transformation from couple to parents brings, but it is equally as difficult sometimes to reconnect to the place where our former selves reside. Evenings out alone tend to be a couple of hours over dinner and drinks spent rehashing the day or a previous disagreement or discussing parenting strategies in a space that is not surrounded by constant interruption. This was different. We owned this time, which was days not hours, it was not borrowed from evenings of bath and bedtime rituals. We left on Thursday for his best friend's wedding and returned Sunday afternoon refreshed and renewed, having had ample opportunities to sit alone, individually with our thoughts and together as the couple who made each other laugh, supported each other and fell in love.

So this is what I learned. Those two people who fell in love are the same two people who created a child, a wonderful boy who shares the best (and a few of the worst) parts of us. We just have added a new dimension to our relationship, one that at times feels consuming, but is really an enhancement of who we are at the core. The struggles strengthen us if we allow ourselves to absorb the lessons within those struggles. When we honor those experiences instead of denying them, we grow together not apart.

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I heard Bette Midler's 'The Rose" the other day in a department store and it took on a whole new, somewhat profound significance for me. The seed, struggling through the cold, hard winter and blossoming to a beautiful, magnificent flower with the warmth of the sun. I know, I know but love and relationships aren't always perfect and it takes the dark cold winter to bring about the warm, brightness of Spring. It's all in our perspective. Plant a seed.

Time to Chage the Profile

2008-09-23T12:21:00.004-05:00

A Lot has happened since my last post and my other half has been "chompin at the bit" to see what I have to say about it all.

The unofficial end of summer came and went and though it was a little later than usual for me, I started to get the sweater/jeans itch that comes along with September Days. However, it has been pretty warm still around here- the weather can be pretty unpredictable after all so more on that later.

I also found a promising training program to get my entry level certification to teach yoga which is something I have been working on for almost a year with a couple of bumps in the road along the way. If all goes as I hope, I will be starting training the first of January and finish up the first of June with the ability to start teaching immediately following if I choose. The connection with people on the level to initiate change is something I miss from my social worker days and teaching yoga will allow me to do that again, but from a more meaningful and authentic place. I am excited to get started.

Mid month I assisted in coordinating an event for Dar a Luz Network with the focus being bringing women together to honor our births. A BOLD Red Tent is a gathering of mothers in a spaced created for the sacred purpose of sharing our stories of birth. This evening proved to be more powerful and cathartic than I think any of us anticipated and I was overwhelmed to be a part of the circle we created. I believe women are a force to be reckoned with, one that is exponentially greater when we become mothers.

Speaking of forces to be reckoned with, we had our own little hurricane right here in south central Ohio on the 14th. "Ike" sent us a freak windstorm that lasted for over four hours, produced F1 force winds and snapped tree limbs like toothpicks all around our communities. We lost power for four long days and I spent most of that time telling myself we were blessed to be in our home with our health in tact, unlike other families affected by Ike. I spent the rest of the time frustrated to be living out of a cooler and without my "Elmo" back up for kidzilla stress relief. Spending evenings reading by candlelight was romanitc and relaxing (even hubby picked up a book!) but we were all relieved to have the power back on Thursday. Some of my friends and family had to wait even longer, or are still waiting and we are sending them positive, energy producing thoughts over the universe's waves.

And just so you are completely up to speed, yesterday was my 35th birthday which means I am in the 35-44 check off box on the surveys. Somehow 35 seems older than 34, like I should have more of an scripted life in place or something. Truth is, my life has changed so much since I turned 30 that my twentysomething self wouldn't recognize it. Trust me, that is all for the better. My path from this point on feels like a shared journey, whereas before it all really seemed so much about me. If our twenties are about gaining knowledge, then our thrities are definately about putting that knowledge to pratice which I have learned is a moment to moment process. Here is to the next moment, and the next 35 years.

Going to Grandma's

2008-09-02T12:34:00.003-05:00

When you have a child, your life suddenly become much more defined by the list of "firsts" that occur- first smile, first steps, first haircut, first family vacation. This weekend we experienced yet another- Liam's first overnight at his grandparents. This night away from home was planned as a trial run for later this month when hubby and I will be away for a few days at a wedding and the boy's grandparents have offered to keep him. We thought it might go better if we started slow and worked our way up to several days away from home without mom and dad so off he went Sunday evening, bags packed. Holding back tears as I waved him down the street I instantly felt like something was missing, lighter somehow, exposed. I wasn't shielded in the cloak of motherhood and our plans for dinner with the soon to be marrieds that were in town opened up to the land of "before we had a kid". Thing is, I felt like a stranger in a strange land, like I'd been here before but everything looks different. Then to spend the night talking about wedding plans and seating charts felt even more foreign as it has been 10 years since I've visited those milestones. Nonetheless, I had a few drinks without worrying about the headache in the morning, and only silently wished I was home putting my boy to bed.

As for the boy, he had a fabulous time with grandma and poppa and went to bed like it was any other evening- same routine, different sleeping quarters. My mother in law says she didn't hear a peep out of him until she checked on him at 7:30 in the morning when he popped his head up and said "hi Grandma!" I did not ask if he called for me. I didn't want to know the answer. I do know that the smile that shined as I walked in the door to pick him up was as bright as the sun and it felt so good to wrap myself back up again.

Practice makes Perfect

2008-08-27T13:19:00.004-05:00

Okay, not really. Perfection is not really what we are striving for as the journey is an evolving one with the ebb and flow of ever changing needs and circumstances. Today, this is what I told myself as I dealt with an unwilling participant at naptime. He had fallen asleep for mere minutes in the car while out running errands with a friend and subsequently decided he was not interested in napping at his regular time this afternoon. So my normal response would be to get angry and try to exert some sort of control over the situation, thus perpetuating my anger and frustration and down the spiral we go. Today, I took a breath, in fact I took many breaths, and I met the situation where we were at. We sang, we rocked, we cuddled, he struggled, but I stayed calm, present explaining I knew he was having trouble settling down, but it was naptime and momma would stay with him until he was ready and comfortable. He rubbed his eyes, sucked his thumb, cuddled his blankie all the while saying "no, don't want" for almost an hour. Then it came, the moment when he surrendered to the now and his own immediate needs and he relaxed. I laid him in his warm safe bed and watched him for a few moments before walking out and closing the door. His perfect little form snuggled under his blanket in that sweet state of slumber.

Being present gave us the space to deal with our needs, embracing those needs allowed us to meet them in a compassionate way. A tiny lesson learned for this moment, today.

Perfect.

I Yell Because I Care

2008-08-22T11:59:00.002-05:00

Apropos to my last post this was the theme to our recent family vacation, the first since baby Liam (who isn't much of a baby anymore) was born. I saw this phrase on a plaque in a funny little boutique in Asheville and though it was meant do be a bit sardonic I suppose, I thought it was created just for me. A bit sad, I know.

Our five day trip landed us in Asheville, NC which is a quaint little progressive city nestled in the mountains of the Tennessee/Carolina border and we all fell in love with the landscape and atmosphere that the environment had to offer. We were, however, all a bit tired of mountain driving by the time we left but glad we went none the same. Liam did beautifully with the transition and would have done much better if his control freak mom could have relaxed a bit. Sigh. Practice, practice, practice.

There is something about experiencing new things with the family you have created that speaks to the very essence of why we have children. Seeing my two and a quarter year old son scaling rocks on a mountain with no regard of fear or imminent bodily harm was a bit of a reality check for this mom who was white knuckled and hyperventilating the whole time. Don't even get me started on the swinging bridge. Ask Liam what he did on vacation and he'll tell you he "climbed rocks", "go through tunnel" and about the "grey kitty" we had visiting us daily outside our vacation home. These adventures were enough for him and more than exceeded his expectation of the trip because HE DIDN'T HAVE ANY! He was perfectly content with what each day had to offer because it was exciting and new and he was with his two favorite people in the world (now with the exception of grey kitty). And you know what, in spite of all of the yelling that may or may not have occurred, it was enough for us too.

Shout It Out

2008-07-31T12:13:00.005-05:00

It is a difficult thing to admit in the calm tranquil space of this blog, but I am a yeller. I get excited, I talk louder. I get angry, frustrated, scared, anxious and I yell. It is one of the things I dislike, HATE, most about myself. I know it is one of the things my husband most wishes he could change about me. I am terrified it is going to be what my son remembers most about his childhood- his mom yelling. I get it honestly, I come from a family of yellers and boy are they good at it. Disagreements are frequent and at full decibel and they always made me want to run and hide. They still do, which is why when I open my mouth and the black noise of chaos and anger comes rushing out like a rabid dog, I am instantly ashamed. Guess what I do when I feel ashamed? I yell.

We have the board book "My Many Colored Days" by Dr. Seuss which I have read often to the boy in hopes of instilling the idea that emotions are not scary, but a normal expression of how each of us feels every day. A self-serving perspective of "it's okay if mommy's mad" wrapped up in a catchy rhyme with cool illustrations. But is it okay? Stuffing your feelings is never a good idea but the screaming and yelling- it can be pretty scary stuff. There has to be a middle ground.

I suppose these are the real questions. What am I so angry about that the slightest things send me into a fit of vocal rage? What lies beneath the surface that ignites the fire of everyday frustrations fueling the flames into a five alarm blaze? Why are women and moms so angry?

I named this space "mommapractice" because I believe it is, all of it, a practice. Each day is an opportunity to make a choice, do things differently, re-examine what works, what doesn't. Each day we also carry the regrets, resentments and guilts of yesterday and I suppose that is what is beneath the surface. Today could be a balance of yesterday and tomorrow and perhaps that is the purpose of being present in the moment. I know I can breathe through the anger and the moment(s) will pass. It is the PRACTICE of the breath, the connection to it that is difficult for me, maybe for all of us. I will keep trying, practicing, and making mistakes and hopefully yelling about it less along the way.

The Efficiency of Intention

2008-07-23T12:56:00.004-05:00

Here is a peek at what you can accomplish in three hours:
Drop son off at morning care program, have brief conversation with brother about his upcoming procedure, drop off books at one library, pick up books on hold at another, head home to make muffins only to learn a muffin pan is missing, call grandma for muffin pan, go pick it up, have brief conversation about pros/cons of circumcision (i know, weird), come home and make muffins, fold and put away load of laundry, post listing for upcoming garage sale, make signs for upcoming garage sale, check and respond to email, make basket of muffins and card for friend who recently had baby, and off to pick up son I go. On the way, I thought about all of the things I had gotten done and I felt proud of my accomplishments. But then I realized, I didn't enjoy any of it. I was a bundle of frenetic energy whose focus was on being productive, efficient with my time but with no intention or awareness.

In my former life, I was a community social worker and productivity was the name of the game. I prided myself on my sense of efficiency and my ability to multi-task. I was respected by my colleagues and supervisors and often a model of how to do the job well. That same skill set has got me in trouble many times since becoming a mother. I often get frustrated trying to hold myself to that same standard, refusing to surrender to what is happening in the moment or acknowledge that I am not the only one with an agenda. My son has an agenda too, and my lack of awareness or respect for that explodes into pieces of a lesson I cannot seem to learn. Identifying my strengths in this new role has been difficult for me, but perhaps because I keep ignoring them, comparing myself to that same standard which no longer exists or is even necessary or relevant.

In yoga, we are told to practice with intention, to build each pose with awareness and respect for our body and our minds. Most times the intention is to unify the two, creating balance within ourselves. The same could(should) be said about any task, complete it with awareness and the rewards are so much more prevalent. Each step of a blueberry muffin recipe is such an opportunity; the ingredients melding together to create a small piece of deliciousness to share and enjoy.

Savor the moments.
Bon appetit.

A failed attempt at mending a broken heart....

2008-07-15T11:57:00.003-05:00

Losing Roxy was one of the hardest things I have ever been through in my life. My heart still aches frequently at the void left by her absence evidenced by Riley's lonely trot across the back yard or missing her tiny little head peeking over the chair arm while we watch tv at night. Liam still recognizes her picture and on occasion will pick up an old toy and say "Roxy's" with a big grin on his face. He also says "bite" when he get hurt sometimes which is just as heartbreaking in a weird validating sort of way. I didn't think I was ready to open my heart again to another dog. Until we met Frankie B.

Frankie is an 18 month old Border Collie who was brought to Sicsa by his breeder owner along with his two sisters after she decided she couldn't care for them anymore. Frankie is affectionate and playful and has responded well to training. Best of all, he LOVES kids. We spent about three hours with him last week, both Liam and Riley in tow, and fell in love. We picked him up last Friday on a 'foster to adopt' trial basis and settled in to welcome him to our family. Liam loved him. They played, they kissed, they hugged. "Where's Frankie?" he would ask as we got home and then Liam would run up to help get Frankie out of his crate. Chris and I were feeling surrounded by the essence of Roxy's energy and loved having Frankie around. Riley was even getting a little spunk back in her step. The cats, however, were not impressed and Frankie decided the best thing this house had to offer was these cool four legged creatures who ran when he chased them. He became obsessive about the cats and could not be deferred to any other activity when one was around. Then he became increasingly agitated until he cornered one in what may have been an attempt to cause physical harm. Here we go again.

Leaving the house with a dog only to return home without one was a familiar trip for me and one that brought back a lot of pain. The training coordinator at Sicsa couldn't have been more helpful and felt Frankie probably chased cats on the farm where he used to live and his behavior would most likely not be changed. Our experience over the weekend only helped make the chances for Frankie's next placement to be successful that much greater. I am happy to have paid that karmic debt, but the sacrifice still cuts deep.

Today we returned home from a short walk with the one that's left and Liam looked at me and pointed to the stairs and asked "Where's Frankie?". "Home" I told Liam and I hope Frankie is soon.

Dada's Day , Belated

2008-06-16T06:39:00.002-05:00

We have been having internet problems at my house which could be a whole other post in itself, especially in regards to my ability to manage "tech stress". I wanted to be sure, however, to acknowledge how wonderful it is to see the relationship developing between my husband and my son. "Dada" as Liam refers to him still, is his go to guy. They play ball, they play blocks, they play cars. In fact, they play A LOT, which is so important for our little guys. They also "watch ball" which encompasses anything on television involving something round and competitive. I can see my husband's face light up every time Liam asks. I am pretty sure no greeting I could ever welcome him with will match the running smile and knee hug he gets from Liam as he arrives home each day. This is after Liam has been waiting in the window, thumb in mouth, blanket in hand waiting for Dada to get home. A man and his son.

I also should acknowledge how even in the hardest, deepest throws of parenting, I know how much harder it would be alone and in spite of it all, my husband and I are doing the best we can to raise our boy the best way we know how. These last two posts bookmark the days devoted to mothers and fathers but each day should be a celebration of parenthood itself and all of the joys and challenges it brings. Nonetheless, I honor the devotion and commitment my son's father has to him and to me. To all of the Dads out there...I hope your day was wonderful. Enjoy the journey.

A Day Rooted in Peace

2008-05-09T13:19:00.006-05:00

Mother's Day Proclamation- 1870

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Julia Ward Howe, a woman whose two most passionate causes were peace and equality, wrote this proclamation 238 years ago calling on all mothers to unite in the name of peace. This was the beginning of a future declaration by President Woodrow Wilson in 1914 after the first celebration of Mother's day in West Virgina in 1907 in honor of JWH's earlier crusade.

I found it fascinating that a day that honors mother's (and is capitalized on by all mass markets) in its original form was a call to mothers to fight for their children and families by ending the suffering of war, which unfortunately continues to be very relevant today. It was an urge for mothers to tap into their collective power and rise up to rally for something they believed in. And, women have been doing it ever since, in marches on Washington, in online grassroots communities such as momsrising. When mothers unite, things happen.

On a more personal, individual level, every mom I know struggles with cultivating a sense of balance and inner peace. We judge, we criticize, we dismiss our intuition with uncertainty all the while fighting our own battle for that elusive sense of peace, validation, if you will, for the choices we make as women, as mothers, as partners, as members of our communities. One of my favorite mantras is "within me there is a peacefulness that cannot be disturbed". We have the power to find tranquility with every breath regardless of the chaos around us. Tap into that power. Breathe.

One of my fellow mothers and I have a saying "every day is Mother's Day". Let's pay homage to the work of Julia Ward Howe by making it so. Find the peace available to you in each moment, each breath. Let that peace transcend your inner struggles to your family, your community to the world at large.

Happy Mother's Day. Go in peace...

Spring Cleaning

2008-04-24T12:51:00.002-05:00

This past weekend I went on a Women's Spring Cleansing Retreat. Not only was it the first time I was away from home overnight in about three and a half years, it was the first night/s away from my boy. I missed him intensely, especially at predictable times when I knew he'd be eating dinner or getting ready for bed. Waking up in the morning without a toddler to care for was a bit surreal. However.......

I had a fabulous time. I spent the time with fifteen other women of all ages and backgrounds, only a couple of whom I'd ever met before, none of whom I had intimate relationships with. We quickly became a community set on cultivating an environment of relaxation and sisterhood. Being that it was a time of cleansing, we ate a raw food diet, did yoga and mediation, had steam facials and a variety of other things to detox our bodies and minds. By Sunday morning, I felt rejuvenated. I spent time with myself and other women without the limitations of a schedule or family obligations. I existed in the moment and the moments occurred with a natural rhythm that I did not feel the need to control. It was liberating.

I also, for the first time in a long time, felt like the woman at the essence of my soul. Who I am at the core, without all of the self imposed expectations and judgments, attended this weekend retreat. I realized I have missed her intensely too. She is witty, engaging, intuitive and introspective and much more fun to be around than her replacement over the past couple of years. She is who I am which means she is Liam's mom, Chris' wife. I am not these roles, they are part of me.

I hope to make such an event an annual outing. Being away for the weekend was good practice for the upcoming months of intense training I'll be participating in for my yoga certification. I am looking forward to the journey ahead.

Sun Salutations

2008-04-12T14:32:00.003-05:00

A little over a month ago a winter storm piled on thirteen inches of snow bringing with it the harsh reminder that, regardless of what the meteorological calendar says, Spring was still almost two weeks away. The Vernal Equinox came and went and it continued to be cold and cloudy and for a lot of us, downright miserable. It didn't help that Daylight Saving Time occurred the same weekend of the blizzard stretching out these dreadful, dreary days like a bad movie that just won't end. A cruel last minute joke of winter's cohort, Seasonal Affective Disorder. I needed a sunshine fix like the worst of junkies, my own personal Prozac.

And then, this week, it came. Bright and shining and warm. Not like the brief burst of sunlight you get occasionally during winter's days but complete with birds singing and grass greening and flowers blooming. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, all spent outside worshiping the most glorious of celestial energies. There were bikes, and balls and open windows bringing the season alive with play and lifting spirits all around.

This could be the unrecognized gift of cold snowy days, of mid March blizzards. They allow us to greet the sun with the fiery passion it demands, the gratitude for the encompassing warmth it provides. It is through the longing for temperatures above freezing that provides the opportunity for change, growth and renewal we so desperately need after the stagnancy of winter days.

Welcome, sun. It is with open arms I greet you.

A Birth Story

2008-03-31T12:41:00.002-05:00

The story of my son's birth is a memory that I hold on to like that of the feeling you get when you finish a good book or when a dear friend or loved one says or does something so wonderful your heart bursts. Sometimes at night, when I am lying in bed anxious and cannot sleep, I think about the morning of Liam's arrival and I just feel at peace. Birth, in all of its complexities, is one of the most sacred times in our lives. Prior to having a child, you are only someone's daughter, seeing the world through the eyes of that which has been protected. Upon giving birth, and I like to think we give birth to not just a baby but ourselves as mothers, we come to the realization that we are now the protector, the lioness shielding her cub. I also began to look at others differently; everyone has a mother, we were all part of someone's birth process. A reminder that we are all individually, universally part of something bigger.

In the spirit of this universality, I am honored to have been asked by my friends at Dar a Luz Network to create We Birth, a blog celebrating the amazing finale of the unpredictable journey we as women embark on during pregnancy. This blog space acknowledges the commitment and value of a woman throughout the birth process and encourages women with all birth experiences to share their memories of bringing new life into the world. Our blog's motto is "Every Woman, Every Birth, Every Story" and I hope that inclusive spirit creates a community that is inviting and welcoming to women as mothers. We are changed by birth, in so many ways. Sharing that story can be a wonderfully cathartic way of honoring those changes. I encourage you all to visit and share your story, or stories as the case may be.

The Path of a Wannabe Buddha Mom

2008-03-20T12:07:00.004-05:00

I just finished a fabulous book, Buddha Mom- The Path of Mindful Mothering by Jacqueline Kramer which has been on my bookshelf since last summer and completing it made me wonder why I hadn't read it sooner. I felt connected to the pages in the same way I did when I first read Momma Zen early in the mothering days. This book seemed to be more applicable to where I am now, and so many of the authors experiences resonated with me as evidenced by the transparent pink lines that now permanently mark my "a-ha" moments among the pages.

As wonderful as this book is, and I encourage all moms of all faiths to read it, that is not what this is about. Mindful mothering, being in the present moment, these are what I hope my daily path leads me to and books such as these inspire that path. If I am honest, however, it is in the moment that I feel I truly fail when the path gets bumpy. It is the practical verses the spiritual if you will. "It is the attachment to desire that causes suffering, the past and the future are not real, living in the past and the future is living in fantasy; living now is living in reality"- these are all quotes from Buddha Mom, quotes I highlighted. What if the now is not where I want to be, especially when changing a diaper is more like wrestling a crocodile. In the quiet moments of reading about spiritual enlightenment as it applies to motherhood as an experience, I can find the space within me that opens up and invites the lesson in like the welcome advice of a dear friend. When my son throws his food on the floor, AGAIN, it is much more difficult to be present in the moment instead of spiraling down the '"will this ever end" thought process. And while I am in the throws of honesty, it is nothing short of torture, at times, walking at a toddler's pace. I realize these moments do not last forever, but some days they sure feel like it. Maybe part of the struggle for me is that most moments do not feel like my own, but somehow borrowed from the routine my son and I have unwittingly constructed to map out the pattern of our days. He appears to be a creature of habit, perhaps a maternal trait. It is difficult to live in the moment when each moment seems to have an unrelenting effect on the next.

So where does this leave me on my path? Lost, detoured, going in the wrong direction entirely? If "to practice means to make mistakes, make corrections, try again, make mistakes, make corrections, and try again, over and over" then I suppose the path I am on is the correct one.

A journal, a lesson, a gift

2008-03-16T12:59:00.008-05:00

A few days ago I found the journal a friend gave me when Liam was born. It started out as the "log journal", the place where a new mom frantically logs every action of her precious babe in an effort to validate her crazed attempts at making sure she is doing everything "right". Early entries read something like 10:15- 20 min right side and 10:30 dirty/wet. However, skipping ahead a few pages I found evidence that those early logs were just the beginning stages of my desperate need to control things and further desperation of my seemingly failure to do so. There was a darkness that loomed in those pages, a reminder of the deep cave I found myself in while trying to hold on to an illusion of what I thought motherhood should be and who I should be in response to that. I did find some validation as well, though not necessarily in the incessant logging, but in the struggles I overcame and the rewards that come from living through difficult times. I seemed to have learned from some of my perceived mistakes.

The entry that struck a cord with me was one I wrote a little over a year ago following a coffee date with my dear friend, Steph, who at the time recognized I had been falling slowly into a very scary place. Our conversation inspired a previous post which you could read here, if you choose. One of the things she said to me was "forgive yourself, you will never be the mother you thought you would be, but allow yourself to be the mother you are so you can channel the best of who she is." This resonated so much with my experience at the time and continues to ring true as my experience changes. I have been thinking a lot about birth lately and the transformation that takes place for women during that sacred time. When a child is born, so is his mother, be it a first or fifth birth. With that birth, however, comes the death of the woman you were before necessitating a grieving process for the loss. I have said before that I am certainly not the woman I was before I became a mom but in so many ways, my life is richer and more fulfilling. It is the attachment to previous expectations and desires that has created suffering for me. Giving yourself permission to be who you are and grieving the loss of who you were can be a powerful gift. Life's journey is not a linear one, enjoy the unexpected curves.

Freedom

2008-03-09T12:29:00.002-05:00

Cue the George Michael music here..... It started snowing Friday morning and didn't stop until late Saturday. By snowing, I mean SNOWING, with wind, whiteouts, the whole mix of bludgeoning winter weather that incapacitates you and mother nature reigns. Sort of puts your control issues into perspective, I guess. The thing is, I have been attempting to check my need to control things for, oh, about two years now. From right about the time my labor started, quite unexpectedly, three weeks early and I was SO unprepared in a "oh my god the nursery isn't ready" kind of way, through yesterday when we had to cancel our plans (PLANS!) to go out for the evening because of heaping mounds of snow and no accessible childcare. I was angry, depressed at the unfairness of it all, especially when about 4:30 the sun stared shining as if to say "it's okay, come out and play!" oblivious to the foot of snow on the ground. The fact is, we could have went ahead with our plans to play, if it were just the two of us, but therein lies the above reference. Cue the George Michael.

The lack of freedom has been the most difficult part of mother(parent)hood and one that is somewhat difficult to articulate at the risk of sounding like you do not love, enjoy, appreciate the amazing things a child, and only a child, can bring to your life. I would have really loved, enjoyed, appreciated what drinking a martini with friends while listening to great music could have bought to my life last night, however. So many things are beyond our control in life, but when you become a parent, the control factor is not only out of your reach, but in someone else's hands. You are controlled by things that which you cannot control, thus the lack of personal freedom. This, like many other things, is an opportunity to remind ourselves of the benefits of being present in the moment and appreciating what is, instead of what was or could be. But sometimes, I just want a martini, a glimpse of what was, to remind me of the woman I used to be and how she became the mother I am. I want the snow to stop falling. I want to go out and play.

Sing it, George.

Wonderment, revisited

2008-03-05T14:44:00.002-05:00

Wednesday is trash day. Another chore to be completed- taking it out, gathering the recycling, making sure not to step in dog droppings getting the can to the curb. Oh, and the ever present inquiry "did you take out the trash?'. Again, an adult's perspective, one that is heaped in responsibility and task management.

My boy is in love with the trash truck (and strangely trash was one of his first words). He hears it from another room and comes running, "truck, truck, truck!" Every Wednesday morning about 8:45 you can find us in front of our window watching and pointing and giggling as the trash guy does his own collecting and gathering, fully aware of the entranced eyes of his audience. Nothing else takes place during trash time, it is only a time to watch, in wonderment, as a seemingly mundane task is completed by the distracted adults around him. Today the trash guys honked as they pulled away in their big, amazing vehicle. My son turned to me with eyes as big as his smile- "Truck!"

Wonderment

2008-02-21T14:06:00.005-05:00

I am tired of snow. I am tired of heavy coats, hats he won't keep on and boots that just do not seem to ever fit right. I am tired of canceled plans and not being able to go out and PLAY. Looking through my own eyes this is what I see, another winter to endure, another cold day to suffer through. But mine are not the eyes of a toddler, a lesson I learned yesterday while out running a routine errand on yet another snow filled morning, both of us dressed head to toe in our best cold filtering gear. "Walk", he said as I attempted to carry him from the car as I always do. I watched as he proudly stomped through the slushy parking lot like a character from one of his board books. Big heavy flakes fell from the sky as he pointed up in wonderment exclaiming "whoa" in his best Joey Lawrence impersonation. "SNOW!" he cried out, uttering for the first time the very word that I had been cursing all morning. "Yes" I smiled and said, "isn't it beautiful?". We walked back to the car (of course) and went home to watch the snow fall.

To the one I love...

2008-02-14T12:45:00.004-05:00

I don't usually get all sentimental about Valentine's Day but I am feeling a renewed connection to my other (sometimes better) half. Our recent loss provided us with an unexpected benefit- we found ourselves united in a way that was raw and honest and genuine and we experienced something together that reminded us of who we are as a couple, not as parents. Grief is a funny thing. I also recognized that this (this meaning parenting, relating, EXISTING) is not a combat zone which I seemed to have created in my own mind. Maybe it is the perceived shift in the balance of power or maybe it is my own feelings of inadequacies, but I've had this idea that it is me against him and he will never understand what it is like caring for our son on a daily basis or the sacrifices I have to make in the process. In that process I've managed to negate his experience in the shift that is parenthood and dishonored the losses and sacrifices he has made, one being his wife pre-motherhood. I cannot deny I am not the me of before baby and all of the complexities that exist within that transformation, but this new life would be a lot more harmonious if we related as partners instead of adversaries. Believe me, it takes a united front to overcome the daily struggles of toddlerdom.

So here's a Valentines Day toast to my wonderful husband, my son's incredible father. We are lucky to have you. And vice versa!

Watching From Afar

2008-02-10T12:48:00.001-05:00

Roxy is now keeping watch from a field full of squirrels to chase and balls to catch. Goodbye sweet girl, we'll see you on the other side.

An Unlikely Teacher

2008-02-07T12:48:00.001-05:00

Things I've learned from Roxy...

There is no substitute for a good rub behind the ears.
Sheer joy can be found in the simplest of things.
Everyone can be a little crabby sometimes, even dogs.
Sometimes a walk is all you need to turn a day around.
Squirrels are evil and must be destroyed. (okay, she really didn't convince me of this- but she tried)
Sometimes the greatest sacrifices we make in life are in honor of the ones we love.

If you love something, let it go...

2008-02-05T12:54:00.001-05:00

As I listened to the raging thunder this morning, the sounds echoed the pain in my heart. She is afraid of storms I thought and as if on cue, I heard her bark calling to me from downstairs where she has kept watch since we brought Liam home. I am here, I called as I opened the door to let her upstairs to the warm comfort and safety of our bed, if only for now. My heart ached to be able to continue provide that same comfort to her, to avoid the inevitable of the days to come.

My sweet Roxy has had a tough time since Liam arrived. This was not a surprise to us. I found Roxy on a cold winter day alone and starving on the side of the road while out working with a client. Are you afraid of dogs I asked? No, he replied and Roxy jumped in the back of my car.

We soon learned that Roxy was most likely abused, had a seizure disorder and was very uncomfortable around kids. She was also sensitive to changes in the house like when we put up the Christmas tree and rearranged the furniture. But she is also the smartest, sweetest dog, always cuddling and coming when called. She instantly became my favorite girl.

We have been struggling with the adjustment to our new family dynamic since the boy started crawling and I have watched Roxy become more introverted and skittish. Her seizures have increased and she just seems sad. So am I. As the result of a bite over the weekend and many, MANY shed tears we have decided to let Roxy go. We will be with her on Saturday as our amazing vet assists us in facilitating Roxy's transition from this earthly existence to somewhere she will no doubt chase squirrels and toss squeaky toys all day long. Please keep her in your thoughts this Saturday morning. She will be in ours forever.

The Grass is Always Greener

2008-02-02T14:44:00.000-05:00

And by greener I mean your experience is always negated by the other mom who has it harder than you. Why do we do this to ourselves? I know I am not alone in thinking "I shouldn't be this (angry, frustrated, tired, bored, lonely) at least I (only have one kid, have a supportive partner, work, don't work, got a break today)." Deep in my bones I have felt the effects of the past two weeks which have been plagued by sickness- his, mine, ours- but I have also found myself thinking about my mother sisters whose husbands were out of town, or who are recovering from surgery while caring for a newborn or who have TWO sick children. I should be grateful that (insert irrational reverse guilt trip here) and not feel so, SO. There is that SHOULD again. Enough is Enough.

Here is the reality of the situation. It is so much easier to focus on someone else than it is ourselves, in any capacity. All we truly know is our own realities and the perspective we develop being engaged in the daily ritual of that. I have no idea how I would respond if my husband were out of town for 10 days but I do know that the last 10 days with my sick son while battling my own germy demons has undoubtedly sucked. Being present with the suckiness of it all facilitates growth, movement to the other side. Focusing on the idea that she has it worse than i do so why can't I take care of this sick kid and cook a three course meal by 6 o'clock only depletes us further. Why exert all of that energy? Save it, call your friends, commiserate, support each other.

We are all in this together. All of our landscaping could use a little TLC.

Am I there yet?

2008-01-26T13:49:00.001-05:00

We are still struggling with the "sickness" as we have been referring to it around here. I keep waiting to feel like we are on the other side of it, but instead, it just feels like I am running in circles. Circles of medicine, grabbing tissues, playing the guilty, bad mommy game for wanting (NEEDING) some time to myself. It seems a bit unproductive to have such bitter feelings of resentment for the microscopic germs that have attacked, and appeared to have seized, my son's immune system. Our whole lives have been disrupted this week and any sense of normalcy fleeting in a way that our routine has become a faded memory. Dealing with a sick child sort of has it's own pattern of stages. The first being the intuitive awareness that something just isn't quite right, moving to the empathetic tender phase of just wanting to make everything all better. Then there is the fear stage that your baby has developed some sort of undiagnosable illness that will certainly have irreversible effects on his growth and development. (This phase appears to be fueled by fatigue- mental and physical.) Next is the aforementioned resentment stage (also possibly fueled by exhaustion) where you feel as though fighting to wipe snot from a toddler's nose could not be a more futile or demeaning task and isn't your mark in this world bigger than this? I am assuming the next phase will feel something like relief and gratitude that this too has passed. I'll let you know when I get there.

There is, of course, meaning in this current daily struggle. This, too SHALL pass and in my heart I know that providing comfort to my boy is some of the most important work I'll ever do. The duality is recognizing that comforting myself is the opposite side of that same coin. Balancing that coin is the real struggle. I'll let you know when I get there.

Silver Lining

2008-01-22T14:11:00.000-05:00

Nothing really prepares you for the ins and outs of motherhood, but least of all for when your baby is sick. The pull on your heartstrings is so tender and the longing to make it all go away consuming. I have been blessed with a boy who doesn't get sick all that often. I do not know if this makes it better or worse. I recognized the sort of glassy look in his eyes this morning but blew it off. By naptime, however, the flushed cheeks and barking cough were an insight into the discomfort he must be feeling. So when he woke from his nap after 45 minutes only to be laid back down a half an hour later, I took it in stride. We cuddled, we sang, we watched "Wonder Pets" all in an effort to make a sick little boy feel comforted and a mom feel like she is doing something to make it all better. This is one of those times when looking at the silver lining gets you through. It won't be long before he doesn't want or need me to wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle on the couch and those precious, stolen moments will be found only in my heart.

Auld Lang Syne

2008-01-07T13:00:00.000-05:00

I am accepting an invitation to declare 2007 complete from one of my favorite blogger moms- Andrea at Superhero Journal. Andrea invites her readers to move through 2007 to 2008 by acknowledging your contributions and grieving the losses of the past year. What a fabulous idea, I say.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
2007 was a arduous time for me; moving through the transition of motherhood and accepting all of the struggles was not an easy task for me. However, reflecting back, I found with those struggles came some wonderful gifts. I began writing this blog which not only became a way for me to express my struggles, but also a way to cultivate the creative streak I knew lay dormant somewhere inside.

I was able to coordinate a monthly "Mom's Meeting" which became a source of strength for me, as well as, I believe, the other moms trying to find the same sense of balance I longed for. This group encompasses some pretty diverse women and perspectives, creating a space of growth and support for the taking once a month.

Along the same line I've been able to make connections with women (some old friends, many new) that I would not have made otherwise. Those connections sparked because of a common thread, but are unique and wonderful in many ways. I am incredibly grateful for the women in my life.

Dar A Luz Network came into my life with an opportunity to fuel my passion for supporting women and an outlet for pent up energy since leaving the workplace. I helped organize a (successful) fundraiser and collaborated with its founding members to implement resources to increase the sense of community and support to post partum moms. Amazing group, amazing women.

THINGS TO GRIEVE
My yoga practice has taken a hit since giving birth, especially the spiritual aspect which embodied such a sense of serenity and inner peace. I am actively working on changing this.

The nursing relationship with Liam ended this year as well and although breastfeeding presented many personal challenges, I miss the connection it provided to my son as well as the ability to provide for him instinctually.

The "perfect mother persona" I created for myself that I am certain contributed to my Post Partum Depression. I get angry, I yell, I cry, I get annoyed and bored way more often than I thought I should.

My marriage's identity as a twosome and all of the advantages of not being responsible to a third party. (Read as going to the movies, leisurely shopping on weekends and concerts)

My own identity-(so a whole other post).

And now....2007 is complete. Feel free to share your own thoughts in the comments section. And thanks for sharing this space with me.

Let's hear it for the girls!

2007-12-22T20:52:00.000-05:00

The newest member of the baby niece clan was born this week. Kate Michelle (all nine pounds three ounces of her) made her way into this world on December 18th. Seeing the change in dynamic of my brother's family has brought a newfound awareness to the need for balance. Quite literally as I was holding the newborn Kate AND my own toddler, while trying to get the pacifier back into the baby's mouth. I wasn't successful. Then there is trying to balance your attentions between the baby and the one who was there first, although most of the time Rachel is proud to play the role of older sister, her own baby doll in tow. There is also the sense of balancing out the family-mom, dad, two kids. And let's not forget, trying to restore inner balance following the birth of a baby. Some of us are still struggling with that one, a year and a half later. The best balancing acts are those with adequate support systems and it is vital that as friends and family we recognize this during times of transition for those we care about. I am incredibly proud of my brother and sister in law and am honored to be along on their journey through parenthood.

Congratulations to the best parents Baby Kate (and Rachel) could ask for.

Enough is Enough

2007-12-11T20:37:00.000-05:00

I have some confessions to make. My blog posts aren't creative enough. I do not post enough. I am not patient enough with my son. My house is not clean enough or decorated enough for the holidays. The meals I cook are not exciting enough. I do not walk my dogs enough. I do not call my friends or family enough. When they call me, I do not call them back quick enough. I do not practice yoga enough. I do not meditate near enough. I do not contribute enough- to my relationships, my household, our finances. I do not play with my son enough. I do not give in enough. I do not sleep enough. I do not read enough or journal enough.

Enough. Really, enough already.

Who is setting these expectations? Although, I suspect I am not drowning alone in my sea of inadequacies, I am pretty sure they are self imposed. Why is it we are always striving for something so far out of reach? Why is "what is" never good enough? My husband has this thing he says when things don't necessarily go as planned- "it is what it is". I typically get really angry when he says this- things should be different! I am fairly certain he is not coming from a place of zen acceptance (or maybe he is and I am short changing him as well) but he is right. Once we can acknowledge our circumstances for what they are we can stop spending so much time agonizing over why they should be different, especially in matters of self acceptance.

I am certainly not suggesting that we close ourselves off to opportunities for growth. In fact, I believe that acceptance lends itself to growth because it allows us to be truly present and aware of who we are at our cores. But spending time worrying about "not being enough" is really just ruminating over the past and the only power we have over the past is the ability it has to impact our present . Instead of thinking "I always yell at my son" rephrase it to "I have yelled at my son... in the past". This gives us the power to make a change if we feel it is appropriate, instead of defining the future by choices we have previously made. How about "it was what it was"?

I am off to practice what I preach. I don't do that enough.

Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T15:09:00.000-05:00

Here is my gratuitous post on gratitude on this holiday founded on family, food and tradition. We so often become consumed with the responsibilities of the day that it is easy to lose sight of what matters. Which is basically a metaphor for the rest of the year isn't it? Maybe the sentiment of gratitude is in the hustle and bustle, the food that doesn't cook as quickly as you planned, the family member that ALWAYS gets on your nerves. I have a way of setting up expectations for holidays and special events that never fail to let me down. Nothing ever goes as planned, but that is the beauty of the journey of life. There is a lesson to be learned around the corner with each step along the path. Appreciating the moments in life for what they are is the essence of gratitude, not extraordinary gestures of sentiment. This Thanksgiving, join me in accepting what is- and let's be thankful just for that.

Happy Thanksgiving.

"Mothering Out Loud"

2007-11-14T11:21:00.000-05:00

When I became a mom I found a voice I didn't know I had as well as a community of women with voices just as loud. It is fascinating the culture that exists in the virtual world (blog in point) of women with something to say, especially mothers. I can't tell you how many hours I've tallied during naptime looking in the online window of other mom's day to day lives and yelling out "it's not just me!" or "I hear ya, sister!" all with an anonymous voice. The blogs, websites, online magazines devoted to moms and mom's issues are in abundance- there is literally something for every mom, every mothering style, every mothering issue. So many times I have read a favorite blog and felt so validated that another perceivably "together" mom could be speaking my language and feeling just as isolated and alone. Yet here we are, together anonymously. Imagine a world where the strength of these online voices could transcend the world wide web.
Moms would really rule the world.

Some of my daily "conversations" include- Superhero Journal, Mojo Mom, Cheerio Road, Giving birth with Confidence, Jumping Monkeys (also a hilarious, smart podcast) and Mother Verse/Mothering Out Loud blog

To hear what else I have to say, check out Mother Verse for my contribution to their daily blog.

The sisterhood of motherhood

2007-10-18T10:10:00.000-05:00

I became an aunt for the second time. My niece, Sophia, celebrates her two week birthday today. When my first niece was born, I was six months into my pregnancy so her arrival brought along feelings of joy and anticipation for my own experience of birth and motherhood. My sister-in-law was also a good sounding board, being one step ahead of me in the arena of trying to figure it all out. This new baby is my sister's daughter and I am consumed with feelings of nostalgia and empathy. Being able to share my experience with her, the joys and challenges has strengthened a bond that had been somewhat weakened by finding our own way on life's journey. Those of you with sisters know what a wonderfully complicated relationship we share. Second only to mothers and daughters, I suppose. But when someone close to you has a baby, especially when you are a mother yourself, things change. Babies have a way of separating out what is important and what is left just falls away. Lives are changed, relationships formed through the birth of a baby. Husband and wives become moms and dads. Moms and Dads become grandparents. Brothers and sisters become aunts and uncles. We as women may birth the baby, but unto that new life is born a family and the ripple effect is profound.

Congratulations Jami, I love you. Welcome to the club.

The Decent

2007-09-10T11:13:00.000-05:00

I cannot get the image out of my head. Flashes of his red and blue shirt, his arms reaching out for something to grab on to. His head hitting the bottom of the last step. This could have been bad, really bad. His false sense of security, as well as mine, were the only things broken. The intense fear of motherhood again rearing its ugly head.

I have said since giving birth that the experience of having a child brought a new intensity to emotions I did not know existed and a perspective beyond what I thought would be verses what is. Life is so fragile and everyday we are reminded of that by someone else's experience. A seventeen year old killed getting off of the bus, a toddler forgotten in the haste of doing too much with too little. But a sense of relief lingers there as well. My family is safe, we are all well. That won't happen to us.

I cannot describe the terror that overcame me as I watched my son tumble down the stairs while I screamed for my husband to catch him. These are the same stairs we have been saying for a week we need to gate off as the boy's confidence overshadows his ability. All it took was a turned head and a misstep for my whole world to flash before my eyes. I made a promise to myself that I would not take his safety for granted anymore. And I put up a gate.

Sacrifice, of sorts

2007-07-23T09:54:00.000-05:00

Of all the things I have sacrificed for motherhood, I miss my hair the most. I know this may seem a bit self absorbed, but indulge me for a moment. I have always had "good hair". Frequently strangers would comment- "I love your haircut!" I must have given my old stylist at least a half dozen referrals in a three month period. Then I got pregnant. It started innocently enough, a little wave developed. Just enough that I could run my fingers through it when I dried it and it looked fun and care-free. People would still comment- oh your hair looks so pretty! Has it always been curly? I'd smile, run my hand over my belly and say "no, it's the baby"! Now the baby is almost 15 months old and my hair is a curly mess. The thing is , it got CURLIER post-partum. No longer nice beach waves but full on curls. Not having had a lifetime of naturally curly hair to master styling techniques and existing on borrowed time for showers and hair prep has left me with lumps of air dried curls lying on my head in defeat. And let me tell you- no one is stopping me at the grocery store with this coif. But in most most self indulgent moments, I really do miss my hair....

Pruning Our Life's Journey

2007-06-29T14:49:00.000-05:00

I was listening to a podcast today by one of my favorite bloggers when she said something that resonated so clearly with me I had an Oprah "Ah-ha" moment. This particular wise woman was speaking of motherhood but used the metaphor of pruning a tree in reference to the growth that occurs during life's more difficult times. I thought about the lilac bush in my backyard and how it almost brought tears to my eyes when my Dad trimmed it (or butchered as I thought at the time) back in the summer we moved into our house. It looked so bare, so exposed as though I would never again see or smell a beautiful purple bloom transcend from its branches as one of the first promises of Spring. My Dad reassured me that the bush was in a transition phase and each year would bring fuller, more bountiful growth to the bush that was a huge selling point for the house. So I trusted him, and waited for Spring.

Some of the struggles in my life took me to places of raw vulnerability similar to that of a freshly pruned tree. In these dark places it is so difficult to see the beauty on the other side, the gift that having the courage and strength to strip yourself down to the core branches brings. If we allow ourselves the opportunity for growth, the bare, naked limbs can and will produce an abundance of green leaves and fresh lilac blossoms.

My Dad was right; the following Spring the lilacs bloomed and each year I sit in great anticipation of the fresh and simple beauty the bush brings. Sadly, this year, the lilacs did not bloom. The cold, frigid weather of early Spring stunted the first blossoms growth. As I reflect back on one of the most arduous transitions in my life, I look forward to the promises and growth of the upcoming seasons leading once again to the gift of lilacs given by Spring.

Letting Go

2007-06-20T10:11:00.000-05:00

I am learning my first lesson in letting go. Along with my son's first birthday came the first steps in weaning although not quite intentionally. It started when Dad put him to bed without his pre-bedtime routine nursing session. Strange thing happened- no fuss and HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT! Now those of you with good memories will remember a post earlier this year where I waxed nostalgic for the early days of frequent night nursings as they were constant reminders of the baby's well being. Those reminders became less and less endearing as he approached his first year. So back to the weaning. We gave up the evening nursing and he did start sleeping better at night, just not consistently. He did however become less interested in nursing during the day so we slowly phased out the other three daily sessions and four weeks later, completely weaned. We did have a few rough days, especially while the whole family shared a nasty respiratory virus, but all in all the nursing relationship ended for us the same way it started- lovingly, instinctually and with ease. And he's slept through the night ever since.

For me this is symbolic of my own growth as well. During the most difficult times over the past year, breastfeeding was my crutch. Not necessarily to calm the baby down, but to reassure me that I was doing something right when everything else around me seemed so out of control. As we both became more comfortable in our daily routine, that reassurance was less important, but I must admit that there is a void of sorts now in that same routine. I almost feel an uncertainty in regards to my physical significance after spending the better part of two years providing nourishment for another human being. It doesn't help that my body hasn't fully accepted the transition even though it has been almost three weeks.

Liam and I continue to bond through many other delightful interactions and he has replaced the comfort of nursing with his blankie. I feel very proud of the first 13 months we spend together and will treasure the moments of tranquility that breastfeeding provided for us.

My First Year

2007-05-01T09:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my son's first birthday. Please excuse the teardrops on the keyboard. It is amazing the transformation that takes place for babies within these first 365 days. He learned to hold his head up, roll over, sit up, crawl, stand and walk around furniture. He also developed a gorgeous smile with six teeth. He learned to laugh, to be mischievous, that he doesn't like cucumbers but loves pretty much everything else- on most days. He likes to be sang to, danced with, taken on walks and playing with water bottles. He REALLY liked his birthday cupcake!
A major transformation took place for me as well over the past 12 months. I became a mother. I gave birth on April 30, 2006 but it took a while to settle into my new identity, to feel comfortable and confident in it. I've become so much more aware of life's blessings and its struggles. I found out what real joy feels like, as well as real fear and sadness. When you have a child, everything becomes intensified exponentially. Simple things like preparing a meal to more complicated things like articulating your feeling to your partner become so much more difficult. This first year has been about creating a balance, a rhythm in which to move through each day. It has also been a lesson in surrender and serenity, both of which can be fleeting. Most importantly, the past year has been an incredible gift. The days were sometimes long, the year was short but the memories will last forever.

The Feminine Mistake?

2007-04-11T21:09:00.000-05:00

My feathers have been ruffled a bit of late due to the release and subsequent media coverage of Leslie Bennetts' book "The Feminine Mistake" which portrays a woman's choice to switch gears professionally to care for children as financial suicide. I have so many issues and thoughts about this premise that I am unsure where to begin. I do need to preface my rant with the fact that I have not read the book, but plan to. I have, however, seen interviews with Ms. Bennett and read many points of view on the matter. Ms. Bennett claims that stay at home moms are essentially subscribing to the "prince charming" or "white knight" fairy tale of being a kept woman and will never fully overcome the road block in their career path. She also suggests that this choice naively puts faith in your partner's commitment to you and the family you have created together, also perpetuating fear with concerns about your husband's imminent death or job loss. Granted, the later two situations would be devastating in so many ways but I can't imaging my working would lessen the blow to our family that either loss would have. And I just can't help but wonder how healthy it is to live your life in fear of divorce- has the commitment of marriage become so passe that the idea of one actually withstanding the test of time so foreign? In a society which has become much more conservatively based over the last few years and somewhat obsessively focused on what constitutes a "family"- I find it interesting that we aren't more supportive or even tolerant of women who make the personal sacrifice to cultivate our future generations. Our views are so skewed on this matter- as evident by my sister's recent proposal for me to care for her child (due in the fall) in effort to provide me with the opportunity to "have a little money of my own". The "kept woman" factor I suppose. I personally do not see this issue as a woman's burden- I see it as an issue to be addressed within the infrastructure of our society's workplace. We should be doing more to reintegrate women back into the professional world following our commitment to raising a family. After all, who is a better multitasker than a mom? Ms. Bennetts claims that 37% of a woman's financial earnings are lost after three years out of the workplace- but what about the earnings of an employed mom that are sucked into high priced child care? This issue is definitely bigger than stay at home verses employed moms. This is an issue that needs to be addressed among our elected officials and through legislation that supports families within an administration which claims to put children and families first. How about a little respect and support for all mothers, all families, who do their best every day to raise children to the best of our abilities?

Resistance is Futile

2007-03-12T15:10:00.000-05:00

I am recovering from Post Partum Depression. I have been struggling with PPD for about seven months but spent five months telling myself I was just sleep deprived. Being of the mindset that everything happens for a reason and there is a lesson to be learned in all of our experiences, I feel that the most difficult period of my life came with a purpose; to reteach me those lessons and how to implement them on my new journey. This is what I know to be true....

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE
Being fully present in the moment is the most effective coping skill available to you. The more you resist what is happening, the worse it becomes. Accept each moment for what it is and move on. In other words, this too shall pass.
A MOMENT IS A MOMENT IN TIME
What you experience at breakfast does not define your day, or even the rest of the morning. You can move beyond a difficult situation and start fresh minute by minute. That is the gift of time.
DON'T FORGET TO BREATHE
Our breath is the connection of our mind, body and spirit to the outside world. When we hold our breath, it interferes with our ability to fully engage in life, literally.

This post is dedicated to my incredible husband- who reminded me daily that my truth was not lost.

Becoming Your Mother

2007-02-19T15:40:00.000-05:00

Motherhood is full of fears- fears of inadequacy, fears of failure, fears of what you cannot control such as illness or outside influences. But the biggest fear of all is the fear of becoming your mother. The vast continuum in which the dynamics of mother/daughter relations flow is complex at best, but even the healthiest of those relationships hold examples of child rearing that we as daughters do not wish to channel as mothers to our own children. For some, including myself, the fear of mothering your own child as you were mothered can be debilitating. Knowing the effects that an angry, unpredictable and sometimes unstable environment can have on a child, you tell yourself you WILL NOT do that to your own child. But the unknown of parenting rears it's ugly head and in the moment you recognize pieces of a past you fought hard to overcome. The truth is those moments are when you have the greatest opportunity to become the best mother you can be. Acknowledge them, accept them and then redefine them. Find the lesson to be learned during those moments, for that awareness creates for us the ability to evolve through our experiences and accept what works and discard the rest. It is at our most vulnerable when we can see the effects that our childhoods has had on us, but it is also at our most vulnerable that we find our inner strength to transcend the past. Try defining your experiences instead of letting your experiences define you. Then you can begin to embrace the similarities to your own upbringing and revel in the differences in the way you care for your child today. How liberating would that be! This is what "practicing" motherhood is all about. Thanks Stephanie....

Reality Check

2007-02-05T09:32:00.001-05:00

My sister recently announced that she is newly pregnant. Being hip deep in the throws of new motherhood myself, my reaction was a mix of excitement, shock and empathy. I remember the thrill of that positive pregnancy test. I also remember the anxiety that went along with it and continued throughout my pregnancy and into many current moments of caring for my son. I've noticed a similar reaction when I see a pregnant couple who appears to be diving into parenthood for the first time- boy are you in for the surprise of your lives! I remember when we were in that space of anticipation- dreamily awaiting the arrival of a new baby and all of the joy he or she would bring, existing in a constant state of denial of all of the "horror" stories we heard from veteran parents. "Your life is over as you know it" or "You will never have a good night's sleep again". Not to mention the explosive effect babies have on your relationship. Come on, babies bring you closer together, right? No, none of this would happen to us. We were prepared for a baby, committed to each other- in a much better place to start a family than all of these other people before us. Fast forward to nine months post partum and a whole new perspective is born. Pun intended. Now when I hear of a new birth my first thought is how is mom doing. A friend is pregnant and my advice is throw out all your expectations- it will be nothing like you think. The good times are great and the bad times are worse. But she of course looks at me like the tired, stressed out new mom I am and tells herself it won't be like that for her. But it will be, and she will be a better woman(as well as mother and partner)for it. At least that is what I tell myself in the midst of a breaking point. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. And nothing will challenge your very existence like becoming a mother.

Thinking Outside of the Crib

2007-01-26T16:37:00.000-05:00

Hats off to my sister in law who spent an hour and a half in a parked car while my niece took a nap. Why you ask? Because of the aforementioned mantra- you do what you gotta do. The baby falls asleep on the way to the grocery store and waking her up will mean a miserable time will be had by all, as well as the demise of any further attempts at an afternoon nap. So my brilliant sister in law kicks back with a couple of mags, makes a few calls and relishes in the quiet sounds of sweet slumber. Again, brilliant. This is what motherhood should teach us, learning to go with the flow, improvise, work with the tools available to you in the present moment. Having been on the other side of this nap conundrum, I've made other choices which have resulted in an afternoon of replaying the same old tape of "I am trapped by this baby and cannot do anything because his needs are more important than mine". Not a fun place to be really. But it happens, all too often because we get stuck in a rut, unable to navigate the twist and turns of the daily rituals of child rearing. Through hearing about Lisa's experience I've discovered an incredible opportunity. In a pinch, a well stocked car makes a fabulous makeshift nursery AND sacred space for mom. Let's face it- if I am home while the baby naps I just want to do the dishes or sweep up the weeks worth of dog hair that has formed a blanket over everything in the house. Now all it takes is a mini road trip and a vacant parking place and an afternoon of relaxation is mine. Who knew? Apparently Lisa....

Fantasy Mothers

2007-01-22T14:44:00.000-05:00

I recently read a book of short stories in which one of them the main female character accidentally enters an alternate reality where her husband and six month old daughter do not exist. The story included the woman's struggles with transitioning to motherhood which included some symptoms of Post Partum Depression or PPD to those of us who are familiar with the illness. The rights to this story have been sold for a movie deal where the author explains, regretfully, that the character is no longer a mother because the production company did not feel it was appropriate for the woman to essentially "wish" away her child's existence. My thought is this- there must not be any mothers working for that movie studio. Because if there were, I would assume the thoughts and feelings that go along with the enormity of caring for a new baby would obviously and painfully resonate with them. This sort of glorification (without any real sense of support for us, I might add) of mothers that society imposes on us is nothing short of absurd. The responsibility of raising a child is so overwhelming, there are no words to describe it, let alone communicate it to anyone who has not been there herself. It is only NATURAL, albeit scary, to have visions of packing a suitcase and leaving in the middle of the night sans family. Women carry an extraordinary burden in this life. From the moment of conception, our lives are forever changed and a piece of who we perceived ourselves to be is lost. Now this is not to suggest that we do not gain something incredible in the process, but that takes some time to find in the midst of hormones, nursing sessions, diaper changes and the restructuring of our entire existence. I think a little time to grieve our childless selves is not to much to ask for. So, when you are feeling like the day is never going to end and there is no relief in sight, call a friend who is also a mom. Ask her where her fantasy escape destination is. You may be surprised to learn how similar the locations are for the two of you. We are not alone.

Functional Tissues

2007-01-10T14:56:00.000-05:00

My family and I have had a recent debate over the severity of grossness that is wiping your baby's nose with your shirtsleeve or whatever other article of clothing is handy. My childless sister claims that nothing could be more disgusting and you should always be prepared, especially if your child has a pre-exisitng condition which would warrant said preparedness. I came to my brother's defense,(whose act of questionable hygiene sparked this heated discussion), citing my most recent validation mantra "you do what you've gotta do", simultaneously acknowledging the situation's gross factor. My sister spent many years in daycare prior to her career as an elementary school teacher, so she does have some experience with snotty noses and other less than pleasant tasks of caring for children. I had to trump that with the previously hated but now embraced mantra of "it's different when it is your own". Now prior to becoming a mother, I felt nothing could be more insulting than to advise an otherwise educated, self sufficient person that they couldn't possibly understand or empathize with what it is like to care for or tend to another human being. Well, it turns out you can't- at least when that human being is your own child and their nose has been running like a drippy faucet all morning and although you have tissues in every room in the house, snot is milliseconds from getting into their mouth and what is available as a functional resource? Your shirtsleeve. Now don't get me wrong- this is coming from a person who cannot clean up dog vomit without gagging and I absolutely HATE to have anything sticky or slimey on my hands. Becoming a mother has taught me to surrender to the grossness of it all. I mean changing diapers is not a pretty job and somtimes, I get stuff on my hands- eww! But, you do what you've gottta do- because you know that you are the vessel by which your baby's well being travels. Even if it is through a river of snot.

TGIF

2007-01-06T10:31:00.000-05:00

Remember the old times- when the week's end would come and 5 o'clock would roll around? The sensation of letting go and tossing the weight the last five day's worth of responsibility and daily grind off of your tired, weary shoulders welcoming you to the weekend. Yeah- kiss that good-buy. Here's the thing, babies do not give you time off. For some reason, they do not realize that Friday nights are for celebratory dinners chased with a cold beer. They do not comprehend that Saturday mornings are for sleeping in followed by leisurely breakfasts of pancakes and coffee, WHILE you look at the paper. But somehow, you believe you can still retain portions of your old life- a baby cannot present that much of a barrier, right?

Cut to scene at local bar and grill:

Carry baby and all of needed gear to table. Try to place beer order while waitress oohs and ahhs over baby and you try to attach clip-on high chair to table. Feed baby while waiting for food order- baby eats much better and faster than you anticipated so you occupy him with Goldfish crackers. Wait, I haven't touched my beer yet. Where is our food anyway, we are wasting our window of opportunity! Scarf down chicken sandwich and realize beer has gotten warm. Baby starts to fuss- he can have buffalo chips can't he? Uh, oh- he is passed point of no return, time to pack it up. Still have half a beer- guzzle it down (it was $5.50 after all). Head home to prepare for bedtime routine....

THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY!

Sleeping through the night

2007-01-03T10:23:00.000-05:00

I am not sure why this is a coveted phenomenon- I am not particularly a fan. At eight months, Liam's status quo is to wake up once, usually around 5am, nurse and go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Occasionally, however, he will sleep the entire 12 hours uninterrupted- for him. I generally wake up and toss and turn waiting for him to stir. Then come the crazy thoughts- is he okay, is his leg caught in the crib, is he suffocating in his blanket, is he even in there anymore? Neurotic, I realize but 12 hours is a long time to go without hearing a peep from your baby. I've started getting nostalgic for the first nights when every few hours he would call out "mom, dad- I am here, I need you." That wasn't that long ago after all, so I don't think it is unreasonable for me to get unnerved during an entire night of silence. If only I had the luxury of twelve hours of sleep- I am pretty sure the last time that happened, I was eight months old.

Nursing the Mother

2007-01-01T21:57:00.000-05:00

In efforts to prepare Liam for someone other than momma putting him to bed (daddy perhaps), I took nursing out of the bedtime routine. Guess who is having a difficult time with the transition? Liam is perfectly happy with PJ's, "The Going to Bed Book", daily gratitudes and then off to Never Neverland. I, however, miss that quiet time, the last contact of the day, where all of the stressors we've endured together throughout our daily rituals dissolve into those last moments. It was kind of like our silent acknowledgement that we had survived another day together- in spite of the crying, yelling and sometimes throwing of objects that had occurred. Or better yet, a celebration that we'd made it through in absence of such theatrics. Nursing has been one of my favorite parts of motherhood, but also one of the most difficult daily hurdles to overcome. The enormity of it cannot be explained but to those who have been through it. To provide sustenance for another human being, a human being that you created, is an incredible accomplishment, and responsibility. I guess I am getting a glimpse into how difficult it will be for me to relinquish that responsibility. The only constant is change, I am quickly learning, especially while becoming a mother.

Christmas is not about me anymore

2006-12-24T21:52:00.000-05:00

A funny thing happened while preparing for the festivities this year. I realized I didn't care what I got from whom or what sort of bizarre, inappropriate comment my Aunt might make at our Christmas Eve celebration. I was instead excited about the reaction Liam would have to his toy train his Grandparents got him. I was curious about what new foods he would get to try at dinner-(green bean casserole, strangely a hit). I also got this sort of primal desire to make sure he was the center of attention- it is his first Christmas after all and while we are still trying to define what traditions we will establish as a new family unit, I wanted these first memories to be extraodinary in a Clark Griswold sort of way. I also disregarded all of my own hang ups about how my family does or doesn't act and my frustrated, sometimes disappointed response to it all. Instead I actually cherished the moments as they happened, relishing in Liam's giggles and the intensity in which he chewed on a Christmas card. Today I understood the extraodinary is appreciating the ordinary, what the day presents us with. Tomorrow my new found awareness may be fleeting, but today I have Christmas.