Mama-Stay (AKA: Namaste)

Yet another of my million goals for this year was a combination of focus on one thing, and one thing only and to meditate.

This intersection of wanting to accomplish so much, yet never really accomplishing anything is the No. 1 flaw holding me back from reaching my fullest potential. I know this.

And, unfortunately, I haven't progressed in this area as much as I would like. In fact, I've done very little meditating since I wrote that post. Maybe I haven't needed it; maybe I'm fooling myself.

In fact, my mind is still a racing machine with thoughts about my fictional characters, freelance sources, new publications, which closets need straightened and what needs packed before the house goes back on the market and, above all, what we're going to do today. And, it's all urgent. It all needs addressed right. this. very. second. One of Jena's recent posts at Bullseye, Baby! spoke to me in this regard.

I have, however, been better at juggling only a couple tasks at a time at certain days of the week. For instance, naps are always to work on deadline work. Weekends are for finding new freelance work. Mornings are devoted to my novel. That still leaves a lot of other stuff that's being squeezed in or left out.

But, this week I am wearing just one hat. Well, two, I guess.

This week, I'm just being a mom. OK, a Mama with dreams and a novel, but I'm taking this week off from all other obligations. And, it's the best thing I've done for us in a long time.

One of our favorite activities lately has been doing Yoga at home. Jadyn and Liana love, love, love this fun exercise.

"Yo-wa! Yo-wa!" they yell out in anticipation. The Yoga Kids: ABC DVD walks us through a motion for each letter, like Alligator for A. We lay on our bellies with legs straight and arms out in front, chomping like big teeth.

"Chomp. Chomp. Chomp."

It makes us all giggle and for the last three weeks we've been hooked and doing it almost daily.

Today, just before N started, they started chanting

"Mamastay. Mamastay."

And my heart wanted to melt. In fact, I think it did right then and there.

For the Namaste song, we sing and bow down with hearts in prayer fold, learning that the light in them is the light in me and that they are a part of all they see.

No, I'm not really hitting my mark with this goal or my other one, but the one goal I didn't list -- Being an Awake Mama -- is definitely accomplished this year.

Namaste.

Thank you for visiting today.

Did you like this blog post? Please consider subscribing here:

Subscribe in a reader

The magic of sunbeams

The practice of being mindful -- if you are open to it -- is easy around toddlers.

Everyday things that could easily go unnoticed -- like an airplane flying by in the distance -- are suddenly bigger than life. It's no longer just a noise, but an activity. The whiz sound turns into arms flying out to our sides and running around in circles saying zoooooom!

So, it's no wonder that Jadyn and Liana start swinging at the air sometimes and, at first glance, I have no idea why. Out of no where, they just start batting at air like it's something. But, a slight movement on my part changes that view.

It's everything they are batting at. Everything that matters.

A sunbeam. I've walked through them or past them a thousand times in my life. But, yesterday, when one was beaming down between me and their ride-on horses, I really looked at it.

Millions of dust specks fluttered and twirled and danced around, slowly. The girls swept their hands through trying to touch all that exists around each and everyone of us every single day. They watched as their white hands and arms became illuminated. They watched as mine did, too.

A part of me was grossed out by the dust that we are breathing in every day.

But, as I stared at it, and watched their little arms fly in, and fly out, I couldn't help having that universally small feeling of being a part of something bigger. I pictured being in space. I pictured feeling no gravitational pull.

And, I smiled, graciously. Because this is something that only a parent can experience.

My girls had to practically drag me away from the sunbeam. The tug of motherhood called for me to go in a different direction.

Gotta have faith

Well, today is the day. Well, today or tomorrow.

This great big beauty of a house will be for sale.

Gosh, this is so exciting and scary all at once.

It's one thing to decide to relocate, if only 30 miles, but it's quite another to do it with two gorgeous little girls clinging to your legs all day, asking to be picked up.

I worry that they will get pushed to the side in my frantic rush to clean up, and get out of dodge for showings. I worry they will no longer sleep through the night. I always worry that any major change or missed calorie will prevent them from sleeping through the night. I guess 12 solid months of not sleeping through has ruined me, still.

Yet, I know this will be amazing for them, once it's over, to have nearly two more hours a day with their Da!

But, first, we have to deal with all the other worries, like who wants this charmer. Recent news in our little city has put another negative spin on violence here. We walk just about every single day and hardly ever even feel the slightest bit of anything but pure joy. I mean seeing dogs, buses, trucks, fire trucks, a creek, and babies all in one walk -- it's just too much. That's why we usually end up at the farmer's market, to buy blueberries, corn on the cob and peaches, too.

Yes, we'll miss it here. We'll hate the process of packing and moving (how that is going to happen is beyond me at this point) and we don't even know where our new house will be, yet.

Risk takers, we are, I tell you. Risk takers.

I have promised myself daily yoga and meditation and one solid hour before lunch getting down and dirty with my babies. A shower might be nice. Food might be good. But, they will be first in line before all of that, of course.

Bear with me over the next few weeks as this new adventure takes over the lives of Jadyn, Liana and Mama. Tomorrow, though, stay tuned for the winner of the fabulous Faith bag.

Something about your daddy

Dear sweet babies,

Once a night, the last two weeks in a row, your wonderful daddy has fallen asleep on the floor between both of your cribs.
There is no carpet on that floor. Just hard wood. Just goldfish crumbs. Just chewable blocks.
After nearly an hour of crying at bedtime, he’s laid down on that cold floor, and waited for you two to fall asleep. He’s done it to help you, and to help me finally get a break after a long day of no breaks.
He’s done it after being gone nearly 12 hours, leaving often before you wake and arriving home just before you go to sleep. He’s done it after struggling with commuting to work so that we need only one car, and ultimately, can avoid putting you in day care. He’s done it for us.
He’s done it because that is the kind of man he is.
He’s the kind of guy who will patiently wait for the excess water to fall off the just-washed dishes so that a puddle doesn’t form under the drainer.
He’s the kind of guy who faithfully gets up between 4:30 a.m. and 5, does the dishes, the laundry, walks the dog, feeds the dog, starts my coffee and usually brings it to me, and then takes care of his needs -- all before heading off to work.
He’s the kind of father who never complained about being sleep deprived, though the bags under his eyes told a different story. He’s right there, by my side, caring for you all day long every weekend. And, when you're asleep, he’s busy working hard on other chores that have been long neglected in the last 18 months.
He’s the kind of man who, at soon-to-be 46, under-sells himself daily, and wrongfully allows others to undersell him, including me.
When times get hard – and they’ve been so hard at times -- blame him.
Because he’s the kind of man who will take the blame, who will shoulder it all, without complaint, that’s why.
And, he’s the kind of man who after running at 6:15 a.m.– not walking – 10 minutes to catch a commuter bus to get to work, misses it by a blink, even after whistling and waving, just runs back home, gets in the car and drives. He doesn’t throw a temper tantrum like I would. Even though, all of it means he doesn't see your precious, shiny faces that morning, a fact that I’m sure breaks his heart in two all day.
There are men who think they are stars because of the job they hold, because of the money they have, because of the power they carry over others.
He is not one of those men. He gives everyone, even the most evil, the benefit of the doubt, he believes in second and third chances.
He is a star, an angel, really, because he refuses to let a single day hold him back from enjoying what’s right here in front of him, which is either the two of you, or the TV, or me. Yes, in that order.
He’s the kind of father I never had, always wished I could get, and the one who will continue to fall asleep on cold, hard floors to make sure that the rest of us are happy and content.
Nothing else matters, really.


God, we’ll get through this. I promise.

An old friend

One of the first bloggers I ever read faithfully was Jen Lemen. Oddly enough, one of my husband's co-workers knows her. Through him, she sent me a book about writing as well as one of her own fabulous creations. I thought I'd share that with you today. I sink into her words each time I read the card. The words are perfect for those of us trying to live in the moment each and every day -- without much outside support.

The here and now -- PART ONE

When it comes to priorities, I think I've been good at handling the most important first. Several years ago, when The Da! and I first started co-habitating, the world was before us. Traveling was important. Fixing our suburban home was important. Going out to eat was very important.

When we bought our inner city home, we were freshly married and extremely busy working people. Yet, we had more time then than we do now. For the first two years in this home, we struggled with the "what ifs." What if I never get pregnant? What if we never need those spare bedrooms? What would we fill this house with, if not love for a baby?

All the emotional baggage that I held as an infertile woman limited this house's potential. It's a beautiful 1890s Colonial. Charm is everywhere. Clearly, when we bought it, we saw what it could be. All the ifs were in front of us.

If we take down the wallpaper, if we repaint the trim, if we add a garage ...

The truth is, ifs are just ifs.

Even as we struggled with getting pregnant, financial woes surrounded us. We've always been paying for something. First, the wedding and honeymoon. Then, fixing and selling the old house. Then, doctors visits and infertility drugs.

Then, it happened.

"You're pregnant," she said.

I smiled all day without being able to tell a soul. I draped a bib around the dog's neck and when The Da! came home he saw it, and he still needed to hear the words.

"I'm pregnant," I told him. And we cried. Or, maybe he cried. I was still in disbelief. Happy disbelief.

So, on we went with another nine months of planning for Baby. Or, as we learned six weeks later, paying for two babies.

It's only now that the girls are about to turn 18 months and I'm not working outside the home that I can actually begin to see the ifs again.

I'm not sure it's a good thing, seeing all the ifs floating before my eyes. I'm a What-If-kinda girl. What if I did this, what if we do that ... I live in the future, constantly trying to mold it into something better, bigger, easier.

Yet, as part of my mindful parenting philosophy, I spend most of my day living right here and now, in my imperfect home. I sit on the floor of our playroom, bringing toy after toy or instructing activity after activity, and I enjoy that part of my day most. Just being. Just living.

The dust collects, the clutter mounds, yet, I'm dealing with what's most important.

Right now.

Mindful parenting is a topic of which I'm very passionate about. Please stay tuned for some interesting posts related to this topic in the coming weeks.