Ode to Claire on Your 7th Birthday

Dear Claire,

I walked into your bedroom at 7am singing, "Happy Birthday to you...Happy Birthday to you!"

Nestled under your covers, you murmured, "Did you see Holly?  Do you think she remembered that it's my birthday?"

Sure enough, Holly was situated on the piano, holding a number seven birthday candle and instantly, all was right with the world.

This is what happens when you have a birthday butted up to Christmas, you ask about your elf on the shelf.

***

Feisty, precocious, tenacious, determined, exhausting, irritable, creative...lover of all things big and loud, hot and cold...you are my hard to handle child.  You know what you want, when you want it and sometimes, all I want is for you to be quiet and just to do as I say.  But that doesn't sit right with you.  You won't be shushed or silenced.  Your voice matters and you're not afraid to make your intentions known.

Singing, as your piano teacher says, perfectly on pitch--you are a force in motion...always singing, dancing, swaying, skipping, strumming, striking, drawing, painting, and dreaming.  The world is your oyster and you see it as a space to bend, to mold, to maneuver into what you see as fit.

Lover of unicorns, horses, hedgehogs, dragons and Mo Willems books, you live your life in a wonderland of imagination.  You make up stories of characters who go on adventures with elves, fairies, mermaids and wizards.  You write poetry and paint images with detail and abandon.  And, I stand in awe.

Now, entering your fourth month of first grade, you are resolute that you will be a reader.  You try your best to sound out words phonetically, but in the end, your lack of patience gets the best of you.  And you just scream out, when it doesn't come easily....or, you make up your own words, because according to you, you could of written the book better.

Twirling in ballet, banging notes on the piano, riding your bike without training wheels, painting your toenails bright yellow and purple, your life is full and alive.

And even though, many times, we wish you would slow down or give us a little less attitude, we realize that at the core, you are unstoppable and we garner passion and energy from yours.  You teach us to let loose, to be free, and to grab what life has to offer--and when it's not enough--to make your own.

Everyday, we are grateful for your spirit, your smile and the way you make our hearts sing.

Here's to the seventh year...may it bring you more opportunities to chase the sun and to know just how deeply you are loved.

Love always,

Mama

It's About the Intention

I'm such a creature of habit.

I tend to wake up at the same time, run through the same morning routine, buy similar grocery items, wear clothes I feel comfortable in, listen to the music that I know will put me in that mood, lean toward certain figures of speech, and in general, weave in and out of known circles of life.

So, it was frustrating when I woke up this Sunday morning and instead of grabbing a hot cup of coffee and my New York Times, I knew that I had to tackle 12 miles because I'd put it off the day before.

My next race is two weeks away and already I can feel butterflies.

The first six miles were phenomenal.  The music was pounding.  The breeze was blowing.  My running skirt was happily taking me along my route and I was that girl that smiled at every passer byer.

And then, the shade magically went away.  The sun started pelting down on my back and my legs felt heavy.

No, no, no.

Grabbing a quick sip of water, I remembered a quote from an interview with one of my, okay, probably my favorite artist, Sara Bareilles on the release of her latest album, "The Blessed Unrest."

The journalist was hammering her about contradictions in the break-up songs versus the up-lifting ones of optimism and hope asking if she was embarrassed about sharing such a personal, autobiographical composition that felt a bit schizophrenic.  To which she beautifully and brilliantly replied, "Aren't we all a little schizophrenic? Our lives are consumed in the ups and the downs the wants and the needs the knowing and the not-knowing.  It's not about the outcome.  It's really only about the intention."

God damn it.  That is it.

If I never run as fast as I think I'm capable.  If I never publish a piece of literature.  If I never graduate to a mini-van or a big girl car.  If I struggle with who I am and who I am not.  In the end, the only thing that matters...that I should care about as my head hits the pillow...is if I tried.

And today, I ran 12 miles.  Some of them were really good.  Others were not.  Some had me hopeful.  Some had me praying for a bench or my bed.  But all of them added up to 12.

It doesn't matter where we land...it just matters that we set out with the intention to get there.  A heart, a mind, a will that wants "it" trusting that the "it" will disclose itself in due time.