The Peace of Wild Things

This is going to be another holiday season when people beg me to let them know what gifts I want and where I frustrate them by shrugging and saying that I have everything I want.

Only it's not entirely true. 

I want peace, in my head and my heart.

I want beauty all around me. 

I want things that are meaningful to me because they're created out of love and passion. 

So I'm coveting anything made by my friend Lisa Lehmann - rings, necklaces, earrings, bracelets. 

And I'm coveting this piece of art made by my friend Robin Plemmons. At first I thought I wanted to get it for my husband, but the more I look at it, the more I want it for myself. I can't remember where I first heard this poem, but it resonates within me. This need for a quiet place to just go be. That I love the art around it is just gravy.

This holiday season, in the midst of the mad pace at work, at home, and in between. I want to remember to take time to just be in the moment. That will be the best gift of all.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair grows in me

and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting for their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

- Wendell Berry

Egmos - Evil Green Monster of Self-doubt - back for another round

He's back. Egmos is back and bigger than ever. So big in fact, that I couldn't see him, sitting there, squatting in the front of my brain, clouding my judgment, coloring my thoughts.

He feeds on doubt and envy and I've been filled to the brim with both these last few weeks. He feeds and then regurgitates more of the same, ensuring himself more meals that fatten him and give him even more power over me.

He tells me I'm fat, that I'm no good, that I'll never amount to anything. He tells me to give up, that I'll never do anything worthwhile. He tells me my book will never sell, that I'm a bad friend, that I don't deserve to see my dreams fulfilled. And if that isn't enough to get me down, he tells me that my dreams are dumb anyway and a waste of my time.

I should be taking better care of my kids, my husband, my house instead of spending countless hours working towards this useless dream of mine. I should be reaching out to friends and family to see how I can be more supportive of them instead of letting calls go to voicemail and emails go unanswered.

Egmos tells me these things all day long until I feel worthless, fat, dumb. When I pick up my head and square my shoulders back, he whispers them in my ear until I droop and drag again.

I'd forgotten that he's just renting space in my head, that I choose to let him stay. I'd forgotten that I'm the boss of him, not the other way around.

Little L fingers a lock of my post-shower wet hair and looks at it with wonder. "You're beautiful." she whispers with awe.

Egmos takes a step back.

"I love you. You're wonderful." M whispers late at night.

Egmos takes another step back.

"I look good today. I took a walk. And I like this chapter I just wrote. Not half bad for one day." I think to myself.

Egmos takes another step back and a weight starts to lift.

I've bested him before and I can do it again. I won't let the Evil Green Monster of Self-doubt control me. Not any more.

Sensitive Little One

Little L has always been my tough little cookie. Where C wears her heart and her emotions on her sleeve and her face, Little L is harder to read, harder to reach. C will bend over backwards to get approval and to feel like she's pleasing those around her. Little L lives to please... herself.

I always assumed that her lack of need of external validation meant that she was tougher and less sensitive than her sister.

I'm slowly learning that I was wrong.

The other day, a rainy Saturday, we all huddled under a blanket to watch Up. Even if you haven't seen the movie, you might have heard that it's not the most uplifting flick out there. I have yet to meet a grown-up who's been able to watch the opening scene dry-eyed.

Towards the end of the movie the main characters have to say goodbye to a friend and out of the blue, completely unexpectedly, Little L started wailing. Not just one quiet tear, but real, honest to goodness wails, with tears and sobs. She huddled in my arms and empathized with the movie characters.

I'm a movie crier. I just didn't think little kids could be too. 

A cleaning spree

Two nights ago I had a fantastic dream. I don't remember the gist of the action or the characters involved, all I remembered when I woke up was how delightfully clean the house was in the dream.

To say that it was a rude awakening is putting it lightly.

As always piles of stuff greeted me when I got up. I stopped by the girls' room to say hello and was greeted my more chaos. I closed my eyes for a second to revisit my delightful dream and without thinking I started cleaning up.

Hours later each doll was in its place, each block in its bin. The shelves were stocked with rows of toys and the floor was amazingly clear of clutter and toys. I had even unearthed the Command picture hanging strips that were given to me at BlogHer to hang some coat hooks on the back of the door. Outgrown shoes were either chucked or tucked away for posterity, toy strollers finally found a home on a ribbon I strung across the closet door, and the books all faced the same way and were easy to pull off the shelf.

We spent the rest of the day sitting in their clean room enjoying the calm and serenity of the organized space. Then I went to bed in the utter chaos of our own room.

This morning I woke up determined to turn our room into the same haven of peace that the girls enjoyed all weekend.

The main culprit in our room was the armchair and ottoman - both covered in clothes. Clothes that really should have been in the closet that was also overflowing and terrifyingly unorganized.

Four, yes, four trash bags of outgrown and out of date clothes later there was enough room in the closet for the chair to be cleared. We purged everything - pre-baby clothing I've finally admitted will never fit again, college clothes that might never have been in style, things we just never wear, things we've never worn (with tags still on!). I took all the too big clothing that I might need one day should we ever have another child, but definitely don't need now and stashed it in the girls' closet.

Tonight the armchair and ottoman are completely clear. The AC unit has been removed from the window. A painting that has been sitting on the floor for months is now hanging (Thanks again Command!). Random bags have been removed. The half empty suitcase has been emptied and put away. And finally, finally, the room is pleasant to be in. 

Another weekend and I could make it positively delightful, but for now, this will have to do.

Birthday Party Math

C has 10 children in her class and a number of other friends in after care.

Little L has 14 children in her daycare and 23 children in her class at preschool.

Add all those up and you have 47+ children. Add in our personal friends who have children and we could potentially be attending one or more birthday parties per weekend.

For the sake of the math, assuming we wouldn't be invited to each and every party, let's say that's a potential 50 parties per year.

I try to keep birthday present purchases to anything between $10 or $15. Which, if my math is correct, means I could potentially be spending over $500 on birthday presents each year.

Now I know my kids love their friends. And I know it's important to be involved in the school communities. But between school, daycare, and work we don't see each other a whole bunch during the week. When the weekend rolls around I don't want to rush to Target to grab a gift and then rush to a birthday party every day.

So it might make me unpopular with the kids and with some of the parents, but this year I'm making the executive decision to be extremely selective with the parties we RSVP yes to. If the child is a close friend or a family member we'll go. If we're very close or friendly with the parents we'll go. For all others we'll reply early with a polite "no thank you."

It took me years to learn that I didn't have to say yes to everything. Maybe this will be an early way to teach my daughters that they can opt out of social events if they want. Social repercussions be dammed. Family and sanity first. Social obligations second. That's how I'm rolling this year.

Parenting in the car; making the best of our commute

We leave the house in the morning as close to 8am as possible. Around 8:40 or so I pull into the school parking lot and drop off the first child. Then I turn around and take the other child 20 minutes in the other direction to get her to daycare by 9.

On weeks that M is out of town or busy I rush out of work at 5:15, dash to daycare to get the little one. I usually get there on the stroke of 5:30, throw her in the car and hurry the 30 minutes to get to C's school before 6pm. Then we turn around and drive all the way home.

We rarely get there before 6:45.

If you do the math, on the days that M isn't able to pick up one of the kids, I spend upward of two hours with them in the car. Considering I'm only with them for all of 3 or so waking hours during each week days, it goes without saying that I have to make the best of those car hours.

We sing. We dance. We tell jokes, jokes, and more jokes. We play rhyming games, name games, endless rounds of "I Spy." And we talk.

There's something about not being face to face, not being distracted by screens, people, or TV that allows us to cover a broad range of topics. We've covered magnetism and gravity. We've talked about why certain celebrities have to go to jail and what they did to get put into "grown-up time-out." We've talked about authors and reading. We've talked about daddy's job and how people heal. We've even talked about friendship, relationships, and the futility of road-rage.

I used to be endlessly annoyed about the amount of time I spent in the car with the kids. It used to bug me that I couldn't be at home, making them healthy dinners, or playing games with them. I wanted to have a longer amount of time to cuddle and read before bed. I wanted to enjoy my kids better.

Now I realize that this car time is a gift of sorts. I'm 100% present with my kids and they're a captive audience. While on the road we connect better than when we're home and I'm running around doing chores. Instead of a hiatus in our day, our commute is actually an opportune moment for a little parenting. One I'm glad I get in the midst of our insane schedules.

My husband is picking up college girls again

Last weekend my husband told me that he really wanted to go to the Seymour Marine Biology Center. It was pouring, we were at the beach, and the Seymour Center is always a great way to kill an hour or two. There's always something new to learn or something to rediscover. Since they opened the shark petting tank the girls have been begging to go every weekend so I quickly agreed.

Little did I know that he had an ulterior motive for our visit.

While C, Little L, and I moseyed around petting shark and starfish, watching fish swim around, and learning more about the Monterey Bay marine life. He was checking out the college students who staff the Center.

"That one looks nice, don't you think?" He murmured as we played with the star fish.

I glanced over and saw a pretty, blond girl chatting with her friend. She looked nice enough so I shrugged. He smiled and walked over to the two of them.

Completely unwilling to have any part of what he was doing I turned my attention back to the kids and focused on keeping Little L from killing the star fish she was observing. Moments later he walked back, beaming.

"I got her number! She's even CPR certified!"

And that's how we went home from the Seymour Center armed with the phone number of a new sitter.

She watched the girls on Friday night and turned out to be perfectly lovely. As responsible as we had assumed from her position at the center, as sweet as she had appeared on the day M met her. C and Little L were enamored from the get go and she texted M the next day to ask if she could babysit again soon.

If these are the kinds of girls my husband is picking up, I've got no issue letting him go out and to get a few more numbers.

A peanut butter alternative bans the lunch packing blues

After my endless whining about the impossibility of packing C's lunch every night I was thrown a bone. A massive, sticky, sweet bone.

At a school function the children were served sun butter and jelly sandwiches. By some unexplained miracle C bought my explanation that sunbutter is a special peanut butter that was safe for kids who are allergic to peanuts.

She didn't try it that day and she made a face when I pulled out the jar I had optimistically bought. And then, nonchalantly, two days later, she asked me to pack her a sun butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.

I didn't question her or hesitate. I grabbed the reusable sandwich wrapper that I'd bought on the off chance that she'd one day let me make her a cheese sandwich and got to work.

The wrapper came back empty and C asked for the same lunch the next day, and the next, and every day ever since. I've switched lunch packing duties to morning so the sandwich doesn't get soggy, and miraculously it's no longer the bane of my existence.

Who would have thought all it would take was some sunflower seeds.

Friends trump all

This morning I dropped C off at school and headed back across three towns to get Little L to her school. We arrived a typical 5 minutes late, at the exact same time as another mom and her daughter.

Both our girls, similarly struck with somewhat unusual separation anxiety, clung to our necks, unwilling to let go. We cooed and enticed, promising fun, playdoh, singing, crafts! Then we peeled little arms off our shoulders and handed both little girls to the teacher.

Within seconds the children had forgotten us, lured by the wonders of their preschool classrooms. We moms were left on the other side of the door, a bit frazzled by the exchange, a bit relieved to have gotten off with no actual tears or tantrums.

A couple hours of work awaited me in my newly reorganized Starbucks. I had my printed novel, brand new highlighters, and countless colorful post-it notes in my bag. I was stoked and ready to dive into the next round of edits.

I turned to leave, already thinking about my characters and my new highlighters, and then, on a whim, I turned back to this fellow mom. I like this woman. She has a fascinating history and she feels like a kindred spirit, one I'd been meaning to get to know better.

"Where are you headed now?" I asked.
"I dunno, ironing probably." She replied with a dismissive shrug.
"Doesn't a cup of coffee sound more fun?"

She nodded, then agreed to join me at Starbucks. Instead of spending two hours working, I spent two hours making a friend, swapping stories, thoughts, and chatting about everything and nothing.

We parted ways, neither of us having made any headway on the work we'd set out to do, but feeling renewed and buoyed. At least I did. It's been a challenging couple of weeks and it felt really good to step out the madness of my self imposed schedule and just relax in good company with a great cup of coffee. Nothing beats hanging out with a friend to reset my priorities and remind me to enjoy life.

GKWG25PBBPTR

Starting the week out of sorts

I spend most of my mornings working away on my laptop at my favorite corner table at my favorite Starbucks. I know the baristas and the regulars. It's my little haven of peace. If I can start the day off there with a perfect cup of coffee, working on my novel, it doesn't matter how the rest of the day goes, I can pull on that sense of peace and accomplishment and feel good all day long.

Starting my day at that particular Starbucks has been my routine for over two years now. Until Friday I always felt at peace when I walked through the doors and smelled the brewing coffee.

Then they moved the furniture around.

And I know that it sounds ridiculous to say, but now the place just doesn't feel the same. All the tables used to be in the quieter, warmer side of the store, with the arm chairs and coffee table in the louder, colder section near the bar where drinks are served. Since last week the tables are now in the louder section and the quiet section has been taken over with the more social seating.

I walked in on Friday and stood in front of the door, somewhat perplexed as to where to go sit. I found an empty table near and outlet and I sat down, but it was loud, drafty, I wasn't facing the way I usually face, and I just couldn't find my groove. I left shortly after, not even bothering to order my morning coffee.

I've reached a point in my editing where I can't even just get lost in the work and I'm all our of sorts about how my Monday is going to go. Do I go and brave the new layout, try to get over the noise issue? Do I go try to find another haven? Where do I take my printed draft to read it over?

I can deal with change as long as I have constants in my life that keep me grounded and help me find my calm center. When the constants are what is changing I have trouble dealing. Which makes me whiney and starts the week off all wrong.

Cows say Moooooooo

Today I headed to the California Central Valley with a busload of delightful mommy bloggers to go say hi to some cows and to tour two dairy farms. I went up with a wide open mind, just excited to see what I could learn and more than a little curious to see where the milk I drink daily comes from.

I also wanted to see if California cows really are happy cows.

As far as I could see, the cows are perfectly content and they make boatloads of milk (7-10lbs of milk per day per cow. Puts my measly pumping records to shame.)

The issue on organic mild vs rBST free milk vs "conventional" milk deserves a little more research, so I'll hold off on posting about that for a few days. In the meantime I leave you with this.

Happy cows say mooooo and their milk makes exceptionally good cheese.

Happy cows say moooo. Especially the babies.

No NaNoWriMo for me this year

Four years ago I signed up to do NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month. I was ready. I had a plot line in head, a laptop, and a toddler who was a great sleeper. I thought I could totally handle 50 000 words in 30 days.

One measly week before the kick-off I got pregnant and I slept through that entire November. The following year I had an infant who never slept. Ditto the year after that.

Now that Little L is finally sleeping at night (knock wood, p-tuy, p-tuy, salt over the shoulder and all that...) I really thought this might be my year.

But sadly it's not going to happen. Things at work are really hopping (Christmas cards anyone?) and I'm putting in way more than my usual hours. I'm spending more time commuting the kids to school and daycare than ever before. And frankly, if I had an extra hour or two every day I'd want to spend it with my family or trying to tame the chaos in my house.

Yesterday I watched all the excited NaNo tweets fly by and I felt a little twinge of disappointment.

Then this morning I sat at my computer and I finished the second round of edits on my novel. Ironically, the novel based on the plot lines I had thought up for that very first NaNo four years ago. A few more tweaks and I'll be ready to send it to the beta round of readers.

One day I'll sit down at midnight on Halloween, hopped up on candy and I'll hammer out the first words to my first nano novel. In the meantime I'll work on my longer novel and everything else I have going on and I'll hold on tight to the incredibly fulfilled feeling I felt this morning when I finished editing the last chapter.