One Down, Two down, Three Down Flu!

So we're here crying the domino blues.

There Is No I In Baby

"To be fully alive is not to simply drink deeply of life and be satisfied. It's to become a well, offering life to the world around you. That is what it means to be fully alive." Jason Jaggard

Signs, Signs.
 Everywhere There's Signs.
Fucking Up the Scenery.
Breaking my Mind.
Do this, don't do that.
Can't you read the sign?
Tesla (my favorite version at least)

I've been thinking about that song a lot.

Signs.
The blinking new gadget. The shiny new dress. The alarmingly popular phone apps that the NSA considers their wettest dream come true. The bright and flashing banner over your head saying "You need me, to feel value." We are bombarded.
All of these signs in one way or another keep us from being introspective and cause us to covet and stray far from what the Apostle Paul preached, which was learning to be content in every situation.
 In need. And in plenty.
The multitude of choices, options, the new and improved are simply a diversion from our path and God's purpose for our lives.

I liken the signs to all the Mommy Blogs out there.
You know the ones that give the rah-rah pep talks....
The women that say I'm enough. I'm a mom and that's sufficient.
 I call bullshit

I'm not. It's not.
And the repetitive mantra of these fellow sisters has my head spinning somewhere in between guilt and pressure.

Being a Mom is enough? Then why do I want more? Should I suppress these clear desires?
It's the MOST important job of your life! Then I should perform as such...and if I fail or stumble, the most important job won't be accomplished?!
Again bullshit.

As I told my near and dear women at my Moms group today, I fall short of the Glory of God on a consistent basis. I will never be enough. The fruits of my labor alone with never be sufficient.

The Lord says in 2 Corinthians, "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness so that Christ's power may rest in me."

God's Sovereignty is sufficient.
I'm a Mama alright. I'm giving of myself. As Christ gave Himself to us.
For now, I am poised to be the face of God in this tough world to my son.
It is my prayer that my he will continuously see me on my knees in reliant fellowship and constant submission with the Lord.
And may that serve as a reminder that He must become greater, we must become less.

If I do that... That's enough.

This Is Your Life

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:31

One of my best girlfriend's called me yesterday.
She's back from two weeks on the Mayan Peninsula in Mexico and a quick jaunt to the French Quarter to ring in the first fabulous breath of this opportunistic new year. Her message alluded to seclusion, beach walks, putting her face in a mask to view the tranquil colors and soak in the warm salty sea with no one tugging at her knees or breasts.

Unfortunately, We missed each other.
I was immersed in the exciting gas line at Costco because my practical husband thought I should get out for some Mommy Time. It was 32 degrees and I chose the pump that you had to continuously squeeze to dispense the Petrol. I caught a good windburn.  My phone was cozy in the car.

But when we speak today, I will get to tell her of my intriguing outing to get fresh farm eggs on the down low off an elusive tailgate on Dock Street.
 I have a secret correspondence with my farmer who emails her location. 
But then again, I might be on a neighborhood stroll pointing and saying, "yes, pine tree" for the thousandth time and won't hear her phoning. Odds are if I'm up to my elbows in digested lentils or my fingertips are greased with butt paste, the window of San Francisco's time difference will pass, and I'll have to save the days titillating details for later.

 Oh I know, what a whining bitch I am! I can hear it now, "She should be so fortunate to have a baby she can stay home with and influence."  But in my world of relativity, the sympathetic "at least" statements don't have any bearing with me today.
My period is back after a 20 month hiatus, making me frighteningly aware that I could do this all over again.

God Willing:)

Dancing Backwards In High Heels

"I can do all things through him who strengthens me." Philippians 4:13

Now, if I would have made some far fetched resolution in this turn of the calendar year, I would be stricken with an unwanted pressure to produce while my infant teeters on toddlerland, demanding I crouch behind his every "look mom no hands" attempts.
Since I have spent the better part of the holidays in an array of various lounge pants with minimum vocabulary retrieval, I know not to be so foolish.

However, it  was brought to my attention the embarrassing lack of frequency in which I pound out my thoughts for my personal affirming and the public's mild amusement.
As if I didn't already know my passion for writing has taken a way rear seat to more pressing matters of bodily functions such as sniffing, snotting, wiping and coughing...

What I am a missing is perspective...
Or is it the favorite buzz word for self helpers this New Year season?
Balance.

As I sit by the dying embers of the first fire of 2014, I am indescribably grateful for this past year.
A year that brought a miraculous son born to two fiercely independent vagabonds.
It has blessed and grounded us in one forceful, wonderful blow.
A new life in which I have to steal time to take a pee alone and sit in silence with my thoughts.  Thoughts these days that are limited in scope and subject matter, but mine all the same.
 It has become clear as crystal, this new found life has me dumbfounded and has literally knocked my legs, which I thought were solid right out beneath me.

Today I rinsed out another soiled diaper in the laundry room sink only to return to a running faucet and flooded floor hours later. I cut carrots and pears into bite size pieces, or so I thought as I banged on his back to cease the choking. I looked in the mirror and saw the days old ponytail with gray wisps and over sized sweatshirt had left the proverbial realm and become my reality.

And then the call came....Would I write a devotional for a mom's group and share my juggling, struggling, wisdom?

What? Write? Wisdom?  Are they kidding?

So tonight on the third day of the new year, I return to the discipline, embrace my beautiful mess, and pray for harmony to meet my discord.

 I can do this.

Waiting on Calgon's Promise

"Then say, “Save us, O God of our salvation, And gather us and deliver us from the nations, To give thanks to Your holy name, And glory in Your praise.” 1 Chronicles 16:35

After I downed my last swallow of an Argentinian Cabernet that I debated over buying based on the over $10 price tag, I looked at my husband and said, "Tomorrow I need some alone time and a good cry."

And so, after putting my dear friend who is recovering from two surgeries, five chemotherapy treatments, loss of her fertility and hair and on her sunrise flight home this morning, I have retreated into the corner of a coffee shop to weep over the headlines of the Sunday New York Times.
Not exactly the release of tears I needed.

Now in the spirit of the season of thankfulness, I fully understand my blessings are amazingly abundant and to look in the eyes of a thriving baby that came from the Lord and grew inside of me is to fully feel gratitude.
Still in the same held breath, to spend endless hours alongside that same bouncing boy with a voracious appetite for breast milk, egg yolk, crib paint, pinecones, and all things he can grasp with his razor sharp claws within his keen eagle eye, all whilst screaming in his carseat, stroller, high chair, my arms and within ear shot of anyone with an allergen to children desiring a quiet Saturday can take its toll.

I MISS MY FREEDOM. MY FREE TIME. MY FREE THINKING. MY FREE SPIRIT!!!

But in the quiet of the moment, with the last sip of my morning joe and a quick slap across my face, tears fill my aging eyes and I can quickly gain perspective.
Grateful can't convey my feelings or my (temporarily rattled) state of mind.
I am blessed more than ever and content in the current crazy chapter with a need for the proverbial bubble bath and occasional visits to my prior pre-baby life.

A Good Romp

"Play is the highest form of research." Albert Einstein


My yoga instructor quoted Carl Jung this morning as she tried to align all of us to take our best breath yet. Jung said that the creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity.
The "Play Instinct" is a necessity.

Interesting.

It is indeed in play that we truly observe the world revolving and can be present in that miraculous fact. I have not been engaging in that highest level of learning in quite sometime... 

Muddled in the laborious and task filled days of rearing a precocious eight month old I guess.

Don't get me wrong, being a literal whipping post for him to bite and pull up onto his wavering chubby feet 100 times before dawn has a certain appeal. But there comes a time when picking smashed bananas from his ample tufts of hair is not an enjoyable form of recreation and it begins to lose its luster.

But should it? 

Could it be that play is not necessarily an action but a disengaging of a mindset that keeps us believing that there is only time for work and rest and work and rest.
 The play is when we are our true authentic beings, surrendering to the kind of world and temperature in which we would most want to dwell. The play is when we are out best most efficient, contributing selves. The play is when we are truly aware.

I know myself well enough that the moment I step away from the musts and the shoulds and embrace the cans, I release in that joy. That same joy that we once lost ourselves in, only to look up to see the streetlights were illuminated and mom was calling us in for dinner.  Play is when every little thing is gonna be alright.  This hardened belief of a regimented life makes this exhausted Mommy dull and tarnished, giving a visual representation to the phrase "run ragged".
I want to feel like I just played Barbies for three hours without ceasing amongst the cooking, cleaning, tugging, pulling, and screaming.

I step outside my hole in which I've lived and behold...
But soft what light through yonder window breaks, it is the sun. The scrub brush turns a burnt amber before my eyes. I sit under the swaying pines and a radiant maple. Savoring the gingerbread syrup in my afternoon tea, a gentle breeze collides with the glow of the four o'clock light. A lone duck waits on the waters edge. I stretch out on a bench, take my best breath and say this is play. 

And where I long to stay.

Now Isn't That Convenient?