Ode to Sam on Your 11th Birthday

Dear Sam,

I know I say this every year, but really, how in the world is it possible that you are 11-years old today?

I am 5 feet, 8 inches tall and when you stand next to me, the top of your head hits the bottom of my ear.  Majestic and strong with your bright blue eyes, dark black frames and most recently (although not pictured) super cool blue and green braces...you are no longer a boy, but instead a card-carrying deodorant wearing, face washing, size 14 jean wearing young man.

This year marks fifth grade and the advent of piano...which means that I spend many a morning listening to you bang out the theme from Star Wars, Harry Potter and Jurassic Park on the ivories.  And much to your chagrin, you're really good and I think (although I promise not to tell your friends) that you really like it.

When you're not filling the house with music, your nose can be found in a book reading or drawing.  You've read more about dragons, wizards, young boys, quests and far off lands and whether it's "The Hobbit or Harry Potter" my favorite part is that you're always rooting for the under dog.

I know I've told you this time and time before, but never stop being so unbelievably comfortable in your own skin....it's truly one of the best things you've got going on.  I adore that you're cool being on your own or engaging a friend or two and that you don't need the acceptance of the world...being liked is super over-rated when it comes to compromising who you are.

My second prayer is that as the years go on and you begin to question who you are and your place in the world that you remember where you came from and who loves you most.  You are a child of God...a beautiful, bright, head-strong, give it all you've got, absolute wonder...let no one try to convince you otherwise.  Your life has purpose and worth and you are destined for greatness.

As you grow into who you are by trying on lots of friendships, musical interests, literary forays, political beliefs, spiritual questions...I want you to know that I am here and while it's not the easiest to share your heart's stirrings with your mom, I promise you that I will always be a soft place to land.

I wish I could beg and plead for you to stop growing because man, it's hard to know that I now have less years with you at home than I've had in the past...but the truth is, you're an incredible gift that I'm so grateful to call my one and only son.

Here's to a year filled with lots of adventure, many moments of love and more amazing memories than you can imagine.

I love you, always...

xoxo, Mama

Exhaustion and Gratitude

'Tis the season...

For all of it, baking pies, decorating cookies, carving turkeys, gathering around tables, breaks from the office or the classroom, travel, families, late nights, bottles of wine, mugs of hot cocoa, screaming, laughing, remembering, waiting for your family member to remind you of that one time that you did that one thing that you wished had just never happened...it's the holidays.

This weird amalgamation of the almost passed over Thanksgiving, Chanuakah, Christmas tree/lights, New Years parties, resolutions and then boom...your ultimate dedication to turn a new leaf and make 2016 your absolute best year ever...just as soon as you get the God damn tree down to the curb along with the fucking Lego boxes that these ungrateful ingrates have left all over the house and your in-laws hit the road and the office lets you have a real vacation without 2,500 emails from John who apparently could give two shits about family time and goes in to "catch-up" over the weekend.

And today, for me, was the start of the madness.  The day before Thanksgiving.

Like a dip shit, I went to Trader Joes along with a bazillion of my closest friends and my three children.  I've frequently lamented how my kids whip around the aisles with those miniature red carts and make minced meat out of the innocent shoppers who are simply trying to make a discerning purchase.  With the volume of traffic today, it left very little room to go crazy.  Instead, the last minute shoppers made stink eyes at my littles and mentally told them to fuck off while they pilfered the shelves searching for organic pumpkin puree.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I thought, before the pies, wouldn't it be fun to let the kids take their hand at making chocolate chip cookies from scratch.  And then the measuring cup filled to the brim with brown sugar got thrown into the Kitchen Aid standing mixer and little bits of chocolate sugar cane affixed themselves to every crevice of my kitchen and the inside of my jeans and bra.

I screamed.  I doled out mean words.  And then, like usual, I felt guilty.  Son of a bitch!  Why can't I just let everything go to Hell in a hand basket and be okay with it?  They're only little for a short time.

Every year, I vow to do better...to spend time being grateful in the moment instead of distracted by the to-do's and the continual being behind the eight ball in the eleventh hour of everything in my life.

And so today, I focus on the serenity prayer and this quote by Marianne Williamson, whom I love...

"The only way to gain power in a world that is moving too fast is to learn to slow down.  And the only way to spread one's influence wide is to learn to go deep.  The world we want for ourselves and for our children will not emerge from electronic speed but rather from the spiritual stillness that takes root in our souls. Then and only then, will we create a world that reflects the heart instead of shattering it."

'Tis the season to make yourself and the world the way that you want to be focused only on harboring the blessings and not the minutia of the to-do's.  No one will remember everything you didn't do...they'll only remember that you showed up, imperfect and real.  

Relentless Pursuit of Blessings

There's this funny dance that I do in my life.

I suppose it's a balancing or more aptly, juggling act rather than a choreographed number.

On one hand, I fully believe everything good in my life comes from God.

On the other, I equally subscribe to the notion that it's my responsibility to cultivate my blessings.

For example, for the last nine years, I have been given the gift of staying home full-time with our three children.  While it's not a perfect set-up, I do my best at any given time, to savor our experiences and not to take for granted that if there's anything we are rich on...it's time and hugs and "I love you's."

Likewise, my legs work.  I can move them regularly.  They take me from point A to point B with little to no residual damage.  And so, I feel compelled to use them while I can.  I run and run and run.  And in the moment, try to appreciate the burn in my glutes and quads and to keep going, largely because I can and mostly because there will probably come a day when I can't.

So, essentially, to whom much has been given, much is expected.

But what do you do when you've received blessings that you don't want to cultivate?  Does God just keep giving them to you...sort of chance after chance...until you accept or surrender?  Or is that the power of free will?  You get to reject the seemingly "good" that comes your way, even if others would think you're an asshole for doing so.

Not long ago, I had an opportunity to interview for a full-time corporate opportunity.  Monetarily, it would have been a huge economic blessing for our family.  It would have made the prospect of Catholic private high school for three children, an absolute no-brainer.  But every part of it felt foreign and wrong to me.  I kept making myself want it for the place it would render our bank account, but I just couldn't.  I know...I feel like an ingrate even typing the words.

Slap in the face; piss in the wind; hole in the ass...who knows what I am?

I guess what I'm trying to be is more authentic, more connected to the parts of me that scream connection and passion and positive change in the world...it just sometimes feels at the expense of maybe doing the obvious right thing.  I mean come on, our parents had jobs at AT&T for 30+ years complete with pensions, retirement and medical benefits.  They did what they had to do.  It was simply a means to an end.  No bitching.  Just a cold beer or glass of whiskey at the end of the day.

And to that end, I am a firm believer in Elizabeth Gilbert's mantra

 

I just wonder if it's okay to decide which blessings feel best given the season, space and time.  And when one does, if we are then spiritually, practically and pragmatically bound to give it all we've got.  If so, my greatest sacrifice has come in the form of my dedication to motherhood...we'll see what else God has in store. 

Happy First Day of School

We woke up this morning and all of the sudden, our family had a 4th grader, a 2nd grader a soon-to-be preschooler. 

Here you are...

As we ate our bowls of cereal, brushed our teeth, braided your hair, put the finishing touches on your lunches and gave you a blessing...I thought, please, please let this be a sacred, beautiful year for all three of you.

Let this be a time where you break through with something significant...where you learn another side of compassion, where your heart grows larger and your brain expands beyond all measure and your faith deepens and you feel both your roots and wings.

You're all getting bigger and well, I think I'm staying the same.  So, while I smooth back your hair, smell your breath, check for straggling toothpaste marks and do a double check of your backpacks...I thank you for letting me fuss over you and for being your over protective, hopeful mama for yet another school year.

Fourth grade, Second grade and Preschool are powerful times.  Here's to all of the smiles, the tears, the laughs, the let-downs, the dreams, the disappointments and the vast amount of effort and pain that will go into making this year exactly what it's meant to be.

I'm so glad that I get to share in it with all of you.  Happy First Day of School!

Ode to Kate on Her Sixth Birthday

Today we celebrated your sixth birthday with homemade fairy wings, pixie dust, painted toe nails, giggling girl friends, cupcakes, punch and chocolate milk...and your papa and I were in Heaven watching you flit around as the beautiful fairy princess you are.

For so many reasons, I love you, Kate. 

When I look into your eyes, I see the purest parts of all that is beautiful, available, and connected in the world.  Different than me, you live smack dab in the present.  You inhabit the right part of your brain completely and when the sunshine and wind hit your arms, you move them through the air to feel your body in space.  When you're painting, you swoosh the brush and splat the paint pretending that you're Jackson Pollock, but only better.  And when you're reading, you do all of the voices and pause for affect while waiting for your audience to notice the moment.

You remind me that life is a gift and that our only job is to look around and take it all in.  You teach me how to be more and more open with greater vulnerability...to let down my guard and to try to seek experience rather than perfection.

You hug me and tell me that you love me to the moon and back a gazillion times and when I repeat the same, you retort, I guess we love each other so, so, so, so much and that's a good thing.

In a few short weeks, you'll start first grade and for the first time, you will be away from me more hours during the day than you ever have before.  How is that possible?  Where did the time go? 

Watching the countless ways that you socialize at the pool, on the playground, and in line at the local Target store, I have no doubt that you're more than ready to be in school all day....it's just that I'll miss you.  I'll miss watching you draw, listening to you negotiate with your sister, making your grilled cheese with the crusts cut off, encouraging you to take just one more nap so that I can snuggle next to you, braiding your hair before you put your ballet slippers on, and singing "You Are My Sunshine," while you dance in the living room.

But as you grow, which inevitably you will just keep doing, I pray that you'll continue to be courageous.  Have a heart that trusts and loves even when there are no guarantees.  Believe that at the core of it, people are good and give your friends the benefit of the doubt.  Be patient with papa, you are his first daughter and will always be his little princess, so don't plan to wear a bikini well for forever.  Know that we love you more than any ode could ever convey and that we hope this next year will bring you more joy, adventure, big love, and blessings than you can imagine.

Happy Sixth Birthday, Kate....love, Mama

Thoughts from the Road

I should have known better.

Today was the first morning that I wasn't particularly anxious about my long run.  I was scheduled to run eight miles and thought, ain't nothin but a thang. 

Feeling self assured, I let myself sleep in and didn't head out until 8:00am, probably an hour and a half later than I should have.

Armed with a new playlist, my camelbak, some espresso energy GU, and a cocky attitude, I hit the road.

Three miles into the trek, I knew I was in for it.  I started getting really hot.  Sweat was pelting my eyes and my pace was rapidly slowing down.

Oh no.  This is not good.

At mile four, I took the gel and a huge drink of water and decided to surrender. 

The pain and the journey toward miles 5, 6, 7 and eventually 8 got me thinking...the moment that we begin to auto pilot anything in life and assume that we know more than it...is probably the point at which we are doomed. 

Because clearly we have lost respect for the task at hand.  We assume that we've mastered it and that we own it...when in life, nothing could be farther from the truth.  We are really never in control of our circumstances.  We assume a healthy surrendering and trust believing that goodness will outweigh evil and that fear and worry are simply barriers to the truth.

It's good to be a little anxious about the journey.  It certainly makes the fruits of our labor sweeter and more hard fought.  And in the end, we learn not to take them for granted and to recognize that accomplishing a goal like running 8 miles on a Saturday morning is a blessing.

Blessings

There are moments that if I'm really quiet, I can feel the blessings in my life.

This morning at the grocery store was one of them.

The cupboards were getting bleak, so Kate (4), Claire (1) and I went to grab some essentials.  Nothing unusual, Kate held the pen and checked off the items on the list while Claire gummed a short bread cookie and I gathered the loot.

Part way into the ritual, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kate kissing Claire on the top of the head and whispering "I love you."  Claire was all smiles and I started to tear up.

Kate asked me in the car if we would always live in our house.  "Like forever, " I replied.  "Yes, in our home," responded Kate.   "Well, Papa and I might live in our home forever, but you, Sam and Claire will one day have your own homes with your families," I tried to explain.  "Oh, well, that's okay, I'm fine at our home, " declared Kate.

I'm grateful that for now, our children want to hang with us, even if their love is a little overwhelming and exhausting.  Because the truth is, somewhere between their tween and teen years, we won't be cool.  And they probably won't be kissing each other on their foreheads and they'll threaten to move to Mars because we're so unfair and ridiculous with our expectations.

Blessings abound.  I just have to remember to pay attention and soak them in.