On Being Remarkable

This will be my last blog post here. I am cooking up a bigger vision for my yearning to write and connect, and my mission of helping mamas find their mo-jo. I will close up shop here soon, and want to thank those of you who allowed me to entertain you from time to time. I have learned quite a bit about myself through this blog. More than anything, its helped me tap into what I need more of in my life, and what I really want to create. More on that to come.
For now, I wanted to close this blog with some thoughts on being remarkable. Yesterday, my husband and I tuned into the Boston Marathon and watched, excitedly, as the top three women raced neck-and-neck to the finish line. "Wow," I commented to Joe as they crossed the finish line, "that's remarkable. You know - that is what I want more than anything in my life. To be remarkable." "How so?" my hubby asked. "Hmmm. I don't know, but remarkable." I said, undecidedly and decidedly.
And so today, when I suddenly fell dizzy in the middle of a shopping center with my little girl in a cart, my thoughts raced to how life can change on the turn of a dime. I thought about my husband and my daughter. I offered a silent prayer that I would live long; Long enough to love them really, really well. The kind of love that gently and steadily asks them to grow bigger, be bigger, and yet reassures them of how completely, wonderfully lovable they are, right now, and how blessed I am to love them.
And then I knew what I meant by being remarkable. I want to be remarkable in my ability to love. To really love.

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Pack Your Bags, Baby!

One of the benefits of coaching is the continued growth process that happens naturally when you are asking others to creatively design their lives. A friend of mine (a wonderful yoga therapist, Rebekah Barry) and I are running an 8-week Integrative Yoga and Life Coaching Program, Mama, Rejuvenated! As part of their visioning exercise, the mamas created collages that answered the question: "what is the BIG dream for my life?"
I had recently created my own version, and decided to use my collage to demonstrate how we uncover our values, or our "must-haves". It struck me, powerfully, how much I am missing the intimacy of friendships that I share with a few women from college. The kind of friendship that was forged through sweat and tears on the lacrosse field and off.
I shared with my husband how seemingly difficult it is to forge those kinds of friendships now, when I am preoccupied with being a mama, or our time alone together is so limited. An hour here, an hour there.
I continued on about how much I missed my dear friend, Kate, who happens to also be Amelia's awesome God-Mama, and who also happens to live in Malaysia. "Pick up the phone and call her, Er." my ever-practical husband urged. "Connect that way."
And so we did. And now, I have two e-tickets to Malaysia with a stop in Dubai. One for me. The other for Amelia.
Kate challenged me. She framed a visit to Malaysia in the most compelling way. If not now, when? People do it all the time. They have no choice if they want to come home and see their families. It's a perspective shift. She will be flying home with Kai, her 11 month old, in June. We could all fly together. "It will be hard and exhausting," she said, "but imagine how you will feel once you do it. You will feel like you can do anything after that!!!"
You see, Kate knows me well. Throw a good challenge my way, and I am like a dog after a bone.
And the bone is 3 amazing weeks barefoot (or at least flip flops) in Malaysia with monkeys swinging in the trees around us, and Kate and I (with babes on backs) palling around together, again. And the bigger bone is really this: Being true to me, and fulfilling my values of adventure, rich experiences, intimate friendships, and a little spontaneity. I am challenging the belief I formerly held that this is not possible with a toddler.
I am now in "strategy" mode of how to travel wisely with an 18-month-old. Stay tuned.

The Power of Focus

What we focus on grows in energy.

This past week, I had a heart-to-heart with my husband. Actually, it was a conversation that we had over a valentines day dinner. (I guess that is fitting.) I am committed to shifting more time and attention to my coaching practice, and need my husband's support. I simply can not keep up with the housework and child care if I am to also tend to growing my practice. As I told him, something has to give, and it is through coaching that I feel most inspired and energized. He is the most important part of the equation to helping me make that shift.
The next morning, I went out to the store and returned home to my husband cleaning the floors with the windows open, music on, and a pleased look on his face. The house was imaculate. He had even set up my mugs and tea for a coaching workshop later at our house. I said something to the chime of: "Wow! Not only am I so appreciative, but you have never been so attractive! That is so sweet!" You should have seen how pleased he was now.
The next day, he stepped it up again. He kept encouraging me to sit down and focus on my coaching business. He will do the dishes, make dinner, clean up, put Amelia down. Again, I told him how much I appreciated this - how much his help would propel me forward.
This has kept up for three more days. He adjusted his schedule to leave for work 20 minutes later this week so that he can feed Amelia breakfast, make me coffee and let me sleep in a bit more. When he has returned home from work, he actually picks up whatever is on the floor, does a couple of house chores and washes any dishes in the sink before hopping on the couch!
Last night, we talked about the impact that this has made on me, on us. I told him that I can truly see how what goes around comes around. His generosity around the house makes me feel much more forgiving of other little annoyances that I otherwise may have focused on until they loomed larger. And he shared that it feels really good to help out and, unlike before, it feels like "no big deal."
The more I tell him how awesome he is, the more that he seems motivated to keep going. Now, I know that this is likely not going to last forever, or rather that there will be ebbs and flows in his initiative around the house. And, I know that I can largely influence this by focusing on his desire to help out. I can see how it motivates him to do more.
It is no surprise that this has been a very abundant week for me with my coaching practice. I am not only on a roll, but the universe seems to be aligning to bring new and previous clients in my direction!
Dr. John Gottman is a 'relationship expert' who claims that relationships that last have a 5:1 positive to negative interaction ratio. In other words, to make a marriage truly work and last, positive, reinforcing behaviors must outnumber negative ones five to one. Here's the thing: it only takes one partner in a relationship to change the dynamic. As emotions are contagious, so are behaviors of love, generosity and an overall sense of good will.
Gratefully, my husband is the one who made this shift for us.
Can you relate to this? I challenge you to give this a try! Take one day and authentically praise or love your partner; Let him (or her) know how much you love and appreciate him. If this is not a usual behavior of yours, s/he may be skeptical or uncomfortable. That's ok. Do it anyways and see what happens. Enjoy.

Keeping it Real...

Where is this blog going? I've been wondering about that lately.

Has this happened to you before? Maybe not in the blogging world, but when you have a sense of where you are heading and then end up unsure of where you are, or where exactly you are headed.

Come to think of it, this happened to me last night. I bundled Amelia safely in the car and set out to run a few errands, the last of which being a stop at a delicious little pizza joint. My husband was travelling, and my vision for the evening included watching The Secret Life of Bees while enjoying gourmet pizza and a delicious glass of wine on my new sea-blue, velvet sofa. (Oooh, I love it so.)

I was "sort of" clear as to the location of this little Italian gem; Which means that I drove around for 25 minutes, and then arrived back home with my movie, but, alas, no pizza.

I had an idea of where it was, but decided to wing it. Sometimes it works, and I end up in these interesting, intriguing places. And sometimes I never quite arrive.

And thus I am entering a phase of visioning, or re-visioning. I will continue to post as I go, though you can expect some changes in the near future.

I need to consult my internal GPS.

Editing

In what ways do you "edit" your life? Yourself?

I want you to really consider that question for a few moments. (I will continue to munch on my gloriously juicy clementine as you do. No rush.)

Do you want to say something and hold back?
Do you take back what you do say?
Do you write in your journal, but think before you write? Or cross out? Or re-write?
Do you bite your tongue when your mother or mother-in-law questions your parenting?

I ask this because I have developed a tendency myself to edit my blog posts after I've posted them. A little tweak here and there. Did I mention that I am a recovering perfectionist?

It is an interesting question. Where else am I editing myself? Making little tweaks here and there?

That is my inquiry for this week. And you?

Personal Challenge: Part I

Let me take you back a few months. It was September, and I was feeling... antsy. There are more adjectives that I could use, but somehow antsy seems to sum it up. I was 9 months into being a mom; 9 months into caring for this new little person; 9 months into the significant challenge of balancing Amelia's needs with my own. And I was feeling, well, nostalgic for my old self, or rather the romanticized version of my old self. She who travels to exotic places, breezes by the local book store to catch a reading after yoga, and, imagine, even styles her hair.

Rather than lament my sorrows, I decided instead to create a rather fun challenge for myself. To mix it up, to step out of my current comfort zone, to allow myself to indulge in these experiences I was missing. And, ultimately, to see where that takes me.

My timeframe was 4 months; Until the end of 2008. I do love a good challenge.

In no particular order, here is the beginning of how I fared (keeping myself accountable):

1. Climb a mountain/hill. On Thanksgiving morning, my sister, sister-in-law and I set out to hike to the top of Skinner Mountain in Western Mass. We were all tempted to skip out and eat mushroom and goat cheese strudel instead, but we persisted. And we bonded.

2. Run a race. In the nick of time, my (other) sister and I ran in the "jingle bell run" this past Sunday morning. Decked out in green and red with an elf hat, and she with a christmas tree atop her head, we joined thousands of other spirited runners for a low-key, relaxed, festive run. We are signing up for next year, too!

3. Row the Charles. Boy, I thought I missed the window on this one. I had arranged with my neighbor, an avid rower, to take Joe and I out on a Sat. morning in September (as a surprise for Joe). Alas, we woke up to a downpour of rain. Instead, I enticed my sister's girlfriend, Tracy, to join me on a very cold October morning. We rented a canoe, squeezed into a full-body wet suit, and sat peacefully in the middle of the river, watching a goose be evicted from his clan (or so it seemed). We made up an entertaining story to explain the poor goose's fate, and talked about life and love.

4. Coctails at a swanky NYC restaurant. In October, I left my dear Amelia and Joe, and took the train to visit a friend who lives in Manhattan. We ate out at a modern, eclectic restaurant and talked about college and life now over a bottle of wine.

5. Visit 3 museums. Check. Harriet Beecher Stowe (where I received a personal tour from Joe's aunt, Dawn), Anne Frank House, Dutch Resistance Museum, Van Gogh Museum & Rijksmuseum. My favorite? The Dutch Resistance Museum in Amsterdam. Seriously cool.

6. Travel to Germany. I went to Amsterdam instead. We intended to do both, but I decided 5 days away from Amelia was my limit. It was both wonderful and heart-wrenching, at times. And we're planning a trip to Norway (Joe's business again) in May... with Amelia.

7. Bake an apple pie. Check.

8. Custom jean fitting in Philly. I happily received a jean fitting here in Boston as a Christmas gift. It is planned for February and this feels like quite a treat!

9. Do something to support my presidential candidate. The way that I chose to do this was to be more expressive about my opinions and beliefs; To personally campaign without being attached to changing anyone else's vote. Stretching lessons. Amelia did hold an "Obama for My Mama" sign on election day, too.

10. Make something unexpected for someone special. I had fun with this one; My favorite gift, though, was a book that I made for Joe's 99 year old Papa. As I type, he may very well be writing his responses to my many questions about his life and himself. He called me to tell me that I ought to be an investigator or teacher, since I ask so many questions. How about a coach?

11. 20 hours of hot yoga. YES! I am reinvested in my yoga practice, and it feels soooo good!

More to come later. For now, though, I will sum up by sharing that I likely would not have done any of these things, had I not committed to them on here. The physical adventures were the most fulfilling to me. More adventure! More adventure! The jean fitting and swanky restaurant? Perhaps that seems self-indulgent or materialistic. These challenge my "but I can't afford it..." and "I don't get to..."; I do have choice. If a new pair of jeans that fit my *new* (post-birth) body like a hug will make me feel delicious, then, by golly, a new pair of jeans it is!

....And We're Off

Day 2, 2009.

Apple pie baked from scratch, check.

Near breakdown at the moment that I realized I forgot the confectioners sugar (who knew?) and need to re-bundle myself and Amelia and trek through the snow back to Whole Foods while the apples turned brown, check.

Asking for help from my neighbors and averting break-down, check.

Date scheduled with Joe tonight (new years intention), check.

Massage, check.

I have set my intentions for 2009. I am going back to basics, and keeping it simple. My theme is self-reliance. Meaning, relying on all that is available within me to accomplish what matters most.

Oh, and the apple pie? As I shared in my 4 month challenge, baking an apple pie has intimidated me for some time. It seemed in another league of baking altogether. (I tend not to measure precisely.) And, yet, I felt both a sense of ease and accomplishment when Joe and I delved into the delicious pie. How we make simple things difficult in life.

(Of course, it amused Joe to hear me go on and on about how easy it really was. He witnessed the whole process. Now that I think of it, the same was true about Amelia's birth. Yes, I am equating baking an apple pie with giving birth. There is that moment of wanting to turn back, to give up, to think ourselves silly for ever beginning. And then we realize we are capable, and the challenge seems not so hard after all...)

And now off to shower for my date.

Saying Good-bye to 2008

I had heard that children attract colds like my garden attracts bees. And now I know it to be true. I am sick with my second cold of the season, and Amelia seems to finally be recovering from hers. I had intentions for our New Years Eve celebration that will not come to fruition. Life happens, we adjust. And so it goes.
I have a tradition each new year. I sit down with a giant scrapbook, and capture the year. I reflect on all that was meaningful, and the growth and experiences that filled my year. Each year, I find myself amazed all over again. I forgot about that. And that. Oh, and that. Yes. A year well-lived indeed.
It is not the accomplishments that stand out to me. It is the smile on my face in the picture of me iceskating in Rockefeller Center, and the remembrance of a spontaneous journey with my mom. It is remembering my trip to Alabama for the funeral of a woman who gave me wings, who wished for me that one day I would notice the beauty even in the midst of pain. It is remembering that, even though she had passed from this life, showing up and being there mattered. To celebrate her life. Even in the midst of pain. I look back and see the books that I read, the places I've been, the people who touched me, the longings of my heart.
Yesterday, I sat down with my giant scrapbook and looked over the last four years. If there was a fire in my house, and my loved ones were safely out, I would return for this scrapbook. That is how much I cherish it.
And so tomorrow I will take time to reflect, to create, to capture. And then I will set my intentions for 2009, and bid farewell to a year well-lived. And I am ready and eager for 2009.

Humble Warrior.

Its funny how the universe works. On Wednesday night, during a particularly challenging hot yoga class, our teacher guided us into the humble warrior pose. Something about this pose struck me; I walked home later thinking about humility, and made a conscious note to explore it later on, in a blog post, or otherwise.

And then Thursday arrived. Or, shall I say, Humility arrived at my doorstep. It was a rainy, yucky day. I had good intentions for us, but Amelia wouldn't have any of it. In fact, she wouldn't have much of anything, except for my complete and undivided attention.

As the afternoon progressed, it became clear to me that I am entering new territory with Amelia. What worked before no longer fits. She has her own opinions now, and she is determined to share them. Joe and I have been exchanging lots of "when do you think...??", "what about changing...??", "does she need...anymore??" And we both respond similarly. Good question. I don't know. I need the crash course on raising a toddler. My toddler, specifically.

There would be time this weekend to talk through the challenges with Joe. For now, I was simply exhausted, and holding all of my questions. And so I was both relieved and excited when 5 pm rolled around, and we were heading out to the annual holiday extravaganza at a local square. Santa would be there, gingerbread cookies would be made, my little family would be together. I bundled Amelia up in her A Christmas Story snow suit, and we headed out into the rain to search for the car; The car that was no longer there. I searched and searched. Towed. My car had been towed.

This is where humility truly entered the picture for me. Inside, I wanted to stomp my feet and let out a glorious scream. But Amelia was in my arms. She was hot and bothered in her snowsuit. She was hungry. I thought about Amelia, and how she has been lately. In one word: Frustrated. The world frustrates her as she wants to do things that are beyond her coordination, as she wants to tell me something that I can not decifer. I watch the frustration overcome her, and I feel helpless. Until I remember my role, as her mama. To help her learn that she can handle it. To reassure her that all is well, that she is capable, that she has choices. Which is exactly what she needs to see from me.

So, there I stood. A pink bundle of fuss on my achy left hip, car keys in my right hand, and the realization that there will be no Santa, no gingerbread cookies, no evening together beneath the rainy sky. Instead, I take her back inside the house, undress her, and begin to make her a grilled cheese sandwich. I burn the grilled cheese to charcoal black as I search for the tow company number. So, I eat it instead. Humility. And I make her another.

We did retrieve my car. I was able to dress and head out to a holiday gathering. Except that I misunderstood the address that Joe passed along, and arrived at the wrong house. No worries, I eventually made it there. I even enjoyed myself. (And it didn't even bother me when a woman pointed out that we were wearing the same sweater).

Then I woke up with my left eye swollen shut, red, and gooey. And came up with my own definition of humble warrior: She who is reminded of her humanity so as not to take life, or herself, too seriously.

Lottery Winners.

"We won the lottery, didn't we?!"

"Yes, honey, we definitely won the jackpot!!"

This was my e-mail exchange with J today. Unfortunately, we were not talking about financial gains. Quite fortunately, we were speaking of our daughter.

What prompted this exchange was my recount of our 2pm hour. Amelia woke up from her nap (this time I turned on the monitor to make sure sleep was involved), and I did my motherly duty of lifting her out of the crib while bathing her in kisses. When I sat her down on her elephant rocker, I noticed that she had a red bump on the right side of her forehead. "Awwww, sweetheart, did you bump your head? Awww..." I (enter verb, I'm at a loss...) Her face suddenly became concerned. And then the bottom lip emerged, and began to quiver in what seemed like slow motion. She began to cry, really cry, as she met my embrace.

I am quite certain that whatever caused the bump no longer caused her physical pain. Amelia is a mover and a climber. She falls often. And she was perfectly content when I arrived in her bedroom.

No, I believe that the concern in my voice triggered this tender response. Maybe she associated that voice with being hurt, and so hurt she felt. Or maybe she just wanted love and that was her ticket.

I don't know the answer to that one. But I do know one thing: being her parents is our ticket.

And there you go. She is our million dollar baby.

Musings.

27 days until 2009. Does this shock you, too?

Tonight, I shared with Joe how much of my personal challenge I have yet to achieve.. in the next 27 days. Bake an apple pie... run a race... gourmet picnic... 10 hours of yoga... and now its the crazy, busy, holiday time?! He thought for a moment, and then suggested that we have the gourmet picnic on the floor of our living area. Love my Joe.

In three weeks, we will begin our holiday road trip. We will drive to Philadelphia to celebrate "the Christmas that isn't Christmas" with my in-laws, and also visit with my college buddies Katie and Jeremy and their little ones. Then we will drive to Toms River, NJ, to introduce Amelia to her great-grandmother (my dad's mom), and then to visit with Joe's dad in NJ... and then head back home... all of this before the actual holidays. Are you tired even reading this?

But, really, what I wanted to share tonight is how very possible it is to be fooled by a 1 year old. Amelia, it appears, played so quietly during her naps that I assumed she was sleeping. She even had her deliciously warm and rosy cheeks when I rescued her from crib-dom. But, alas, by her pale face, droopy eyes, pleas for "MA!" and falling asleep at 4:50pm for the night, it seems that she did not, in fact, sleep today. Amelia likes to talk, to herself, to whoever is listening. She is always making some noise. (This is coming from the one who received a "u" (unsatisfactory) in conduct in 3rd grade for talking constantly... and a few "s-" (less than satisfactory?) in my years, too.) And I can only assume that she lay up there whispering sweet nothings to her animal friends who share her crib. And I knew nothing of it.

Sadly, Joe arrived home in his whirlwind fashion with wide eyes searching for his prize at 5:50pm. I had to break the news that she was already asleep. Thankfully, he accepted me graciously (sort-of) as runner-up.

And so, circling back to my original point (I played instead of napped today, too) about the short amount of time left until 09, I have concluded that this is, indeed, my favorite time of year. This last stretch of the year, the grand finale. And, following the finale, is a new beginning.

A coach's dream.

Birth Day

A year ago, at this very moment, I lay in Cambridge Hospital, with Amelia newly born on my chest. It was not the birth that I had imagined. And, yet, it was beautiful. I had birthed at home for the majority of her birthing process. My water broke on Sunday, and she arrived on Thursday morning. There were birthing candles, music, birth tub, loving midwives, prayer shawl... and, eventually, I moved from my home to the hospital, where another caring midwife met us.
When Amelia was finally born, the OB on call came into my room to say congratulations, and that she was happy that I had proven her wrong. She wanted to c-section Amelia from the second we arrived. After all, I had been in labor for days, she said. I was tired. Yes, I was tired. Indeed. And yet, we were not finished, Amelia and I. She was on her way, and I needed to give her the space, the time, to arrive without intervention, without force, without alarm.
When she did arrive, Joe and I held her, and did not let her go. She never left our arms, except to be wheeled to our room, by us. We kept looking at each other and saying, "can you believe that she is our daughter???" And then we took her home. Without proper dismissal, or more accurately, with proper dismissal after saying we were leaving anyways. She was to be born at home, and so home we were to go. She was healthy, I was well.
And so it has been since then. We still look at each other with amazement that we were blessed with such a spirited girl. We still create visions and intentions, only to discover that it rarely works out exactly as planned. And, yet, it is still beautiful. Motherhood, marriage, family, celebrations, life. Its all a mix, isn't it?
I had an intention to create a video of her birth to the song that will forever remind me of her birth. I would weep to this song in the final days of my pregnancy. I never did get around to that video, mostly because her birth turned out differently.
But never say never... and so here it is. Reflections on the first year of Amelia Eve's life.
Happy birthday, baby girl. You amaze me. I am very proud to be your Mama.

Skipping.

When was the last time that you skipped? I mean physically skipped? Yesterday afternoon, I was walking to the corner store to pick up a bottle of wine. It was bitingly cold, and so I decided hasten my walk to a skip, with the intention of keeping warm. I felt a bit silly, but, soon enough, the joy of skipping far outweighed the self-consciousness.

I came home, and asked Joe when the last time he "skipped" was. He asked me if I meant the last time he skipped an Eagles football game on TV. He was serious. I responded that I meant literally, physically skipping. Oh, he replied, sometimes I skip around the corner at work! I did not know this little tid bit about my boyish husband. I liked it. I then posed the question to him. Do you think its possible to skip and not be happy at the same time? He thought for a moment and then replied, No, he did not think it was possible to skip and be unhappy at the same time. So, there it is.

I dare you, if you are feeling impervious to joy at any given moment, to go outside and skip for a few minutes. Trust me, the self-consciousness you feel will give way to childlike, in-the-moment, true joy. You needn't spend any money, and I promise that you have the time in your day.

Ahhhh. It feels good. I'm going to do it again today, in fact.

Birthday.

Today is my birthday, and I am another year well into my 30's. It may be cliche, but where does the time go?

I remember my 23rd birthday; I had recently moved into a tiny apartment in DC, on my own, and Joe had entered my life. (I kissed Joe, in fact, for the first time that evening. It was, as I told my friend Emily later that evening, the best, longest, sweetest kiss. I had no idea that he would eventually become my husband.) And there I sat, on the floor, bathed in candlelight, writing myself a letter. It was a time in my life when I was healing, changing, growing; I had been through a long, difficult period, and I was coming through to the other side. Oh, how alive I felt! Certain songs, like Oasis' "Don't Go Away", transport me right back to that tiny living room, and the swell of feelings flowing through me.

That letter was a letter of promise and acknowledgment. Seeing how far I'd come, and claiming how far I would go. I was, in retrospect, coming into my own and seeing my own loveliness. Whereas, before, I seemed to see mostly what needed fixing.

Much has changed since then; While I am still young, relatively speaking, that sense of freedom and invincability has been replaced with a sense of groundedness and responsibility. I feel both great love and a pang of sadness as I reflect back to that 23 year old woman-in-coming; I am wishing in this moment that I could reach back in time and know her again. To remember what it feels like to be have all of the major life choices still ahead of me. Who will I be? What will I do? Who will I marry? Who will be my child(ren)? What will I name them? That time of becoming, of not knowing, was exhilarating.

And, here I am now, ending the most transitionary, extraordinary (and yet ordinary) year of my life and beginning a new one. I have given birth; I have become a mother; I have nourished my daughter from my bosom.

There is a pull between opening up to what is now, with all of its blessings, and longing for the freedom and risk-taking that marked my youth. I know this pull as the trademark of the great transitions of my life. It is walking through the murky waters, at times not knowing just who I am in the moment, as I approach the next becoming.

I hung up the phone this morning with my dear friend, Kate, from Malaysia. We shared our thoughts, our feelings, our wonderings on this topic. She left me with a reminder of what true wisdom is... it is knowing what questions to ask; The questions that will take us from where we are to where we need to go.

And so, today, when I sit down to reflect on last year and set my intentions and theme for next year, I will be asking myself this question...

What am I longing for?

And so, I am off to the local coffee shop, and then onto my massage appointment. Yes!

Basic Instinct?

Sometimes I mark my territory. Like a dog lifting its leg. I am not proud of this. But, it's true.

Today, I noticed a man standing in my tiny garden, right up against the window, helping himself to our hose while he finished his cigarette (do you know how many cigarette butts I find daily in there??). Innocent enough, but it bugs me how people disrespect our property here in the city. I've had my patio furniture stolen, my patio destroyed and re-built, plants tramped, many an empty vodka bottle dumped; So, when I saw this man helping himself, I stepped outside and asked, "may I help you?" I let him finish. I simply marked my territory.

I do this to protect my family, too. This morning, I received an e-mail that raised my spikes. It triggered my instict to mark my territory. Our boundaries. Back-off. Instead, I took a few deep breaths and asked myself 'how important is this really?' Not very. And, so, instead, I picked up Amelia and kissed those pink cheeks.

I guess I still marked my territory.

Women Speak: Motherhood

Motherhood is like...

"Sitting on the edge of the most beautiful cliff in the world, taking in the view, feeling the joy... but then realizing there is a really steep drop just below and unsure of how steep it is, what is below, and whether I can maintain the balance..."

"The start of a summer morning--the promise of warmth and joy as I look forward, but yet the slight chill and shock of air as I learn how to be a new mom..."

"Constantly moving from one place to another, picking up pieces, chasing,... always looking, moving, and desperately wanting to stop."

I asked some of my mama friends, including some women that I have never met, if they would be willing to share their feelings and experiences with me. The quotes above are some of the descriptions to my question, "what is a metaphor for how you feel as a mama?"

Here are some of the other responses that these women shared with me...

What adjectives describe how you feel about yourself, or your life, right now?
*Happy, *content, *busy, *lonely, *frustrated, *confused, frazzled, challenged, proud, stuck, up and down, loving, impatient, hard-working, striving, meaningful, changed, lucky, excited, amazed, overjoyed, joyous, vulnerable, scared, confident, guilt-ridden, incompetent, frazzled, frustrated, despondent, elated, thankful, optimistic, dazed, conflicted, bored, exhausted, longing. * Most commonly reported.

What choices are you currently struggling with?
The most common responses were about the balance of motherhood with a career, how a career fits in, and choices around being with/growing their families vs. seeking employment outside the home. Confidence with self (as mother and outside the home) was another common theme, i.e. sourcing confidence, building confidence, being more confident. Other themes included taking time for self, asking for help, dealing with in-laws, furthering education, defining motherhood role, nurturing relationships, letting go, and parenting decisions/strategies.

What do you want most for yourself right now?
More time for self, greater balance, increased confidence, more joy and being "in the moment" (less guilt and questioning), and a greater purpose/contribution outside of motherhood were among the top of the list. Other wants included family routine/structure, consistency, find next career opportunity, less guilt, connection with other mamas/women, time for self, sense of moving forward, expansion outside home, appreciation, happy child, good marriage, better body image, more energy, inner satisfaction.

I won't share the ratings of satisfaction in each area. Why? Because we mamas already make enough comparisons and judgments that there is no point in measuring our happiness with others! Agreed?! However, I will say that, overall, "role as mama" was ranked the highest. (Perhaps that is because that is where we seek the most guidance and/or focus our attention) And, support system and career were among the lowest, with relationships close behind. Personal growth was in the middle. Motherhood, it seems, is its on own path to personal growth.

In sum, we need each other. We need to rally around each other and to not forget to ask each other how we are, outside of our roles as mama. We need to see the dreams-on-hold in each other, and help call those forth. To notice the permissions that we desperately want to give ourselves, and give that to each other. Yes, go out for a walk even if it costs $15 for that babysitter - you need it!

I still welcome other responses. I will use these to further develop programs in support of mamas. In the meantime, we ought to all get together and celebrate being a mama, and all of the good work we do every day!

Sometimes I Forget...

Sometimes I forget my own power.
I forget my own capability as a woman, a mother, a life partner, a business woman.
Then I remember that I can choose a new path when the one that I'm walking down isn't leading where I want to go.
Like when I find myself going into Amelia's room four times during a "nap time".
Sometimes I forget that Amelia follows my cues, and that she senses when I am ambivalent, or unsettled.
Then I remember what I want for her, and I settle into a new plan.

Sometimes I forget to attend to myself.
Then I remember to start where I am, and even a 15-minute run is refreshing and, for today, enough.
Sometimes I forget that eating well means delighting my mouth, as much as nourishing my body.
Then I remember to treat myself to a perfectly toasted sesame bagel with fresh goat cheese, thyme, and a drizzle of aguave nectar for breakfast. (Seriously, you must try it...)

Sometimes I forget how much I need my friends.
Then I remember how good it feels to hear, "I know. I've been there, too."
Sometimes I forget that it really need not be hard.
And them I remember to go with, not against, the flow. And that it gets to be easy, if I so choose.

Sometimes I forget that we all forget.
And then I remember why I do what I do.

To remember.

Bridget Jones Lives on (in Amsterdam)...

I will blog more about my experiences in Amsterdam, from the heart-wrenching and anxious moments of being miles and miles away from Amelia, to the sweet "just you and me" moments with Joe, to the euphoric experience of riding a bike, solo, along the beautiful canals...

For now, though, let me introduce Bridget Jones. First, let me begin by a short story. This past spring, I was waiting in line for Barbara Walters' to sign her autobiography. Being the first in line (yes, I admit it), I had lots of time to kill. A young woman was behind me and she began telling me about herself. "I am kind of like Bridget Jones", she said, "I can't help it." I laughed, and shared that I, too, find myself in these embarrassing predictaments often. Moments later, Barbara signed my book, and hers, and I turned around to say goodbye to her. That's when I saw her flat out, on the floor, with her belongings surrounding her. She had fallen. On her face. And her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "Goodbye, Bridget Jones." I said. And we both laughed.

And now to my moment. Joe left Amsterdam on Sunday morning to travel to Germany for business. I had 30 hours left in a foreign country. Alone. When was the last time I was truly alone? What would I do with myself? So, I determined to make it a wonderfully hedonistic experience (no, not as in the red light district, thank you.) Instead, I rented an old-fashioned bicycle and road along the canal way with the locals. I shopped a little. I caught part of a mass in an old church. I went to the grocery store and bought cheese, pastry and apples. I went to a chocolate store and bought a few chocolates. I went back to my room and filled the tub with bubbles, filled myself a glass of wine, and put some chocolates, apples and cheese on a plate. I then took the flowers that my mother-in-law had awaiting us (our anniversary) and added them to the tub. Indulgence. I laid in the tub, sipped my wine, nibbled a chocolate, ate some cheese, and dipped my toes in and out of this huge tub. I mused about my experience, reminding myself to enjoy this moment. Take it in. Savor it. I decided that I would spend the rest of my euros on a special dinner. Heck, I will treat myself!

As I stepped out of the tub, I went to reach for my towel. And that's when I saw it. My hands were stained a deep, bright yellow. I rubbed and rubbed, but it did not lessen. I then looked down at my chest, and arms. Bright yellow. I turned to the mirror. My face, my nose, bright yellow. Oh my. The flowers. The pollen. I turned to the tub, and, to my horror, it, too, appeared to be stained that dark yellow color. I quickly grabbed a towel and started to scrub. To no avail. I took a deep breath, sat down, and tried to think of my options. I could go to the grocery store and buy cleaner and sponge. Sh*t. It was nearly 5pm. It might be closed.

So, I quickly dressed myself, wiped as much of the yellow off of my face as possible, and stepped out of the room. I approached the concierge, lowered my voice, and confessed, "excuse me, but I have something embarrassing to share. I put flowers in the tub, and, you see, they seemed to stain it. Do you have cleaning supplies that I can use?" She looked at me, confused, and said, "we have a cleaning service, you know..." "Yes, I said, but it's.... bad." "I'll send someone right over."

I went back to my room and waited. A woman showed up and I warned her. We went to the tub, and she began to scrub. I offered to help. She shooed me out of the bathroom. I came back in, and she told me that it was not coming off. She was sweating. I asked again if I could help. She refused. I reached into my pocked, took out the euros that I had saved for dinner, and handed them to her. Take-out pizza would have to do.

She did, eventually, get the pollen off the tub. And my skin did, eventually, return to its pinker pigment. And, as I left the hotel the next morning, I passed her in the hall. And we exchanged a glance, and a smirk. We both seemed to think it was funny.

History in the Making

Today is election day and, in no small way, history is being made. This excites me. (It also excites my husband. He must have been first in line this morning.) I have my opinion about who is better fit to lead our nation. And you have yours. I have never been so eager to cast my vote. And you? We both await the results tonight to see who it will be... (gulp.)

What I most want to blog about today, however, is my love for my daughter. Joe and I are off to Amsterdam tomorrow. Joe has business in Germany, which inspired me to seize the opportunity and go with him. We hemmed and hawed and eventually made a few choices, such as going to Amsterdam instead (Joe will move on to Germany after I head home), leaving Amelia at home, and having my mom and sister, alternately, stay with her.

Up until now, I've been very excited for this adventure with Joe. I've long awaited seeing Anne Frank's house, and to experience the laid-back, anything-goes, historically-rich city. We've been playfully discussing care-free days over there; We intend to visit many coffee shops, sleep in (a little), and follow our whims... no naps, no schedules, no meal-planning, no fussiness (at least, not from Amelia)...

Which leads to my heavy heart today. No Amelia. I will be far, far away from my daughter. I will not be able to kiss those delicious cheeks, or cuddle, or see those gorgeous eyes for five full days. I turned to Joe last night and said, "I may not be able to get on that plane tomorrow." To which my supportive husband replied, "if you don't, you don't. And that's ok." To which I replied, "I need encouragement." Ah, its not easy being a husband.

Mind you, this is coming from a woman who's number 1 value has been freedom. I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-vintage-skirt kind of gal (or jeans, these days). To think that I will have to will, seriously will, myself on that plane is a little short of shocking. My stream of thinking is something like this right now, "What if something happened to us? Who would best care for Amelia? No one could love Amelia the way that we do. She needs gentleness, empowerment, affection, strength... Should I leave my wishes for her in case anything happened? Would Amelia remember us? Me? Are the 3 pages of instructions (lovingly dubbed "The Mama Manifesto" by Joe) enough? Should I not go? Am I doing the right thing??"

And I am sitting here today staring at my beautiful daughter. Oh, I love her. I mean, I love her. I love her the way that I never imagined I could love another being. Its different than the way that I love Joe. And I love Joe. If you are a mother, you understand this.

I know, deep down, that this, too, is part of the path. Learning to leave her, to tend to my own need for adventure, to be alone with Joe, to have faith, and to allow myself to miss her, to be sad, to send prayers that all will be well.

Amelia Eve, I love you, I love you, I love you. My little spark, my darling daughter, my comic, my strong girl. Leaving you is really, really hard.