{this moment}

inspired by Soulemama, a friday ritual. a single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. a simple, special, extraordinary moment.

don't postpone joy

today. not tomorrow. not next week. not when you have free time. today.

i should warn you though, i have a motive.  today my son, alex, would have turned 13. he was stillborn. no explanation. not that one would have mattered anyway.

it's an ache that i cannot describe.  that's what 13 years will do to seething pain...it turns it into an ache.

i am incomplete. forever.

but on his day, i try extra hard to be the kind of person he would be proud to call "mom."  life for everyone else moved on rather quickly, but a part of me is still sitting in that hospital bed, kissing his sweet forehead.  this day brings a restlessness with it. a need to celebrate the birth of one of the greatest loves of my life. 

this years celebration involves you.

do something for you. for no other reason that it brings you joy.

sometimes i take a shower by candle light. ha! too much information? the point is, that just the change in lighting turns getting clean into a small moment of joy for me. maybe for you, it's the fancy handsoap that you never buy, but you would if the kids wouldn't use it all.  or an evening walk. alone. how about the flavor of ice cream that you pass up at the grocery store because you are the only one that likes it?

do it today. for me. please?  we all know how good moms are at putting the small stuff off.  but just for today, make time.  in celebration of a little guy who changed my world.  it would really make me smile to know that others had a bit of joy today because of him.

my joy came in the form of daffodils.

come back and tell us what joy you created for yourself today!

{this moment}

inspired by Soulemama, a friday ritual. a single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. a simple, special, extraordinary moment.

life lessons

when my daughter (step, but that's just as bad as the "f" word in our house!) was young, she was a breeze.  at school, she never ruffled any feathers.  she got glowing reports from all of her "superiors." she could blend in seamlessly with adult conversation.  she never interrupted conversations or phone calls.  she was, looking back, as easy as they come.  a gem from the moment i called her "mine."  i mistakenly thought that parenting was parenting, and it was generally the same regardless of the child.  i assumed that her god-given nature was somehow a reflection on the role we played in her life.

she was 6 when she came into my life, and 12 when we found out i was expecting my son.  we have always had a special bond, and i made sure she felt no anxiety about a new baby coming.  she was the perfect big sister, helpful and adoring.  my heart soared with pride, once again, assuming i had anything to do with her nurturing, sweet nature.

when my son was born, i began a journey of humility.

he despised swaddling.  he only nursed on one side.  he had no problem holding his breath until his face was purple.  he thought clothes were pointless and baby food was unnecessary. these days, i would tend to agree with him on those last two points, but back then i was way too concerned with doing everything the "right" way.

he has always been an (overly) active boy, so much so that he used to get upset because he couldn't be friends with tom sawyer and huck finn.  i used to dread picking him up from daycare, as it was always a debriefing on all the ways he didn't fit with the rest of the kids.

school hasn't proved to be much of a relief.  his first private school told him he needed to see a doctor for his behavior and politely asked us not to return.  he was 5. 

now, i'll be honest, i was mortified.  i had no idea how to "fix" this problem.  hadn't i done everything perfectly with his sister?  i wasn't sure whether i was more upset that he was so much of an individual, or at what those "superiors" must think of me as a mother.

i had never wanted to be anything more than a mother, and now i was failing at it.  i knew what kind of feedback he must be getting at school, from teachers as well as other kids.  some moms understand that life is chock full of struggles and everyone must find their own path.  i am not that mother.  well, my head is, but my heart? not a chance.

then, one day, right in the middle of admonishing him for the third time about the sheer decibel level he produces- it hit me like a freight train.  i was providing the same feedback as everyone else: that he was somehow less than desirable. 

right then and there i decided my job was to be his advocate, his cheerleader, his unwavering supporter.  i would no longer be crushed under the disapproving looks of my peers, i would no longer concern myself with forcing him into the unnatural mold that public school demands (my dream is to homeschool him, but that choice would leave us homeless and hungry).  he would be free to be himself, no matter how inconvenient that might be for those in charge of his care. this does not mean that discipline wasn't exercised or limits were not set.  simply that he is a unique individual and i refused to participate in destroying that. 

it's rather freeing, actually.  yes, there are still plenty of times i wanna crawl under a rock.  he screams for what appears to be no reason.  he runs everywhere.  he has no concept of personal space.  there is no filter on his mouth, meaning if he thinks it, it comes out instantly.

there have been doctors visits and diagnosis.  they love to give me pamphlets on things i'm living first hand.  school still loves to fill me in on his shortcomings. i really don't care what they have to say.

sometimes when i'm out in public alone, i'll see another mom struggling to maintain her sanity.  her little one is acting like the grocery store is a free-for-all, or enjoying the echo of a tiled library.  i can't help but smile.  i've been there.  i can see the shame in her face as others just look at her, disapprovingly.   i hope she knows that this week's trip to the grocery store won't matter in the long run.  i always try to make her smile, to know she isn't alone on figuring out this motherhood journey.  before my son, i might have felt that i was more together than this mom.  when, in reality, my experience in mothering was limited to a different child. an easier child? absolutely.  a better child? no way.

in another era, my boy would have been viewed as a strong one, a hunter, protector, and provider.  somehow the very qualities we appreciate in a man, are unacceptable in a boy.  he's brave, articulate, adventurous, funny, freakishly strong, and devilishly handsome.  so what if he can't sit for story time?  my goal is to raise a well-rounded, loving man.  he's well on his way.

my daughter is 21 now. as beautiful, easy going, and caring as ever.  i still tell her that she is the child i "chose."  however, it appears that god saw additional weaknesses in me that needed strengthening.  he knew just the boy for the job.

{quick} dinner

i love experimenting with new recipes and ingredients.  but, on those nights when putting dinner on the table seems like an insurmountable task, i refer to my list of "slam dunks." 

tostadas are one of them.

i'm a vegetarian, the hubby isn't.  i love black beans, the kids don't. tostadas give everyone the opportunity the build their own dinner, while everyone is still eating the same meal (i hope that makes sense?).

i bake the corn tortillas in the oven until they're crispy. then set out bowls of ingredients: beans, rice, veggies, and cheeses are just a start.  try offering new ingredients each time, even themed tostadas (mediterranean, spanish, italian).  the kids are surprisingly willing to eat when they have a say.

it's quick, healthy, and i can usually throw it together with whatever is on hand.  definitely a slam dunk!

*store tour* anthropologie

i'm moving in. 



i love everything about this place.

it serves as an escape, not just a shopping trip.  it's a feast for my senses, the unfamiliar music, the beautiful smell, buttery soft fabrics, and saturated colors.

truthfully, a lot of things here are out of my price range, but (at the risk of sounding materialistic) it makes me happy to leave with a small purchase to call my own.

on this day, i picked out this little berry bowl ($12).

i'm in love.

solitude

a bit of solitude does me good.  it refreshes me, it allows me to be a better wife, mother, and friend.  i find it difficult to be at my best when my own reserves are empty.

as i sat there, in my favorite of places, i closed my eyes and felt the sunlight on my skin and salt air genlty blow through my hair.  i reminded myself that i had no where to be.  i told myself to relax my shoulders.  and breathe.

"me" time is important, but it would be so much easier if someone actually forced me to take it!  i forget how much i like me when i'm away too long. 

i'd love to know where you go or what you do to "fill your cup" and remind yourself of your blessings.