I Miss You...Here's Where I've Been

Peer pressure is some serious business. We all feel it. Well, maybe you don't anymore...now that you're a grown-up. If you don't feel peer pressure as an adult, I'm jealous. Look, there's more proof that I feel it. I feel pressure to be exempt from pressure.


Several months ago, I read these words across my computer screen:


"You haven't posted anything new in 11 days. 221 people who like your page want to hear from you."


What?


Who did that person think she was telling me to come up with something interesting/endearing/clickworthy to share with my likers?


Well, it wasn't even a person. It was Facebook. A computer generated message, coded to pop up as a reminder for business owners and bloggers to keep their pages active, happening and vibrant. To keep those clickers clicking.


A quiet, inconspicuous nudge. Come on, say something. Anything. Bring someone here...to this page...your page. They want you. We want you. Do it.


I read the words, felt the pressure and caved. I typed. I created something for my likers to like. I did what I felt I was meant to do.


One of my dear friends straight out told me, "That's a lot of pressure from Facebook." I LOL-ed and smiley-face emoji-ed at her brilliant comment. (I don't think those are verbs yet, but I'm typing them anyway. I'm screwing teacher pressure tonight).


Life continued as it had for the previous many months. Eleven days between posts had once been a mighty number, so I squeezed it back to three. However, eventually, that high of eleven became nineteen. Nineteen morphed into thirty-three. This fall, Facebook made sure to warn me that my likers had gone a painstakingly 45 days without seeing anything new from their wise and witty Mama (Who Loves You and Chocolate, Too). What had I done? What was I thinking, not writing and sharing and blogging and posting? Where was I?


Don't I wish that I could tell you that I was living the easy life as all four of my kids were at school?


That I was kicking up my heels (FINALLY) and eating all those bon-bons I have been missing out on all these years?


That the breakfast dishes were cleaned up as soon as the kids hopped on the bus, in time for me to work out before my long, hot bubble bath?


That my husband and I were sneaking away for long lunches every day?


That I planned, shopped for and cooked wholesome and thoughtful meals, which were ready at 5:30 each night?


That the children did their homework without hesitation or fuss?


That they happily went upstairs after family book or game time, eagerly brushing teeth and taking showers, allowing us to relax with Jimmy Fallon and our unhealthy addiction to the new Netflix series Narcos?


Don't I freaking wish? If only that were how life was. For a real look into our lives, go ahead and reread those few sentences, knowing that none of it ever happened. In fact, it was the exact opposite...all the time. Our life was the typical, hectic, back to school mess with four kids, plus several medical disasters thrown into the mix. I was forced to give up running and yoga after a hefty injury to my ankle. Yes, again. My feet suck. I miss it more than I could have ever imagined.


Two of the children were/are being treated for some lasting health issues. For one of them, we met with or consulted with nine physicians and specialists. For the other, we are still not to the bottom of the problem and are seeking a second opinion after months of pain and therapy. One of the boys underwent ear tubes surgery, which had to be postponed once during his first medical crisis. Also, it wouldn't be Halloweentime without the family picking up the icky germs. Each morning, as I struggled to open my puffy eyes from another sleepless night, when I thought nothing more could go wrong for us, something always did.


Usually, I only complain to my closest friends, my mom and Mark. They hear the worst from me, They are my people. They know my scary stuff. Even if it had been physically possible for me to sit at my keyboard without crying or falling asleep, you guys didn't want to hear about all my drama. My stress. My major mama worries.


Or did you?


Lately, people have been asking where I've been. This morning, my friend hesitantly, yet dearly, confessed to me that she missed my blog. She told me that she wanted me to know, but she didn't want me to feel undue pressure to come back. It made me smile inside to know that my words have affected her and the others who expressed similar sentiments. I've wanted to be here for so long...I've missed you all. You know how much I hate to admit I can't do something, but spending part of nearly every day in a medical office Is.Just.So.Darn.Draining.


So, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking about peer pressure. The good kind. Did you know there is a good kind? I didn't need Facebook to toss meaningless numbers at me to start me writing again. Facebook pressure has proven to be ineffective on me the past several months. Thank goodness. I'm thinking that I needed to hear from just the right number of people, the exact number of times, that I should come back to my blog. Thank you, Sweet Smiling Sarah, for pressing me.


When I told you in early October that I was cutting back on blogging, I had no idea what was ahead. I was only a mom hoping to figure out her place in a day with no children. I was going to recharge myself to be the best mom ever! I imagined I would take time away from the keys to plan satisfying meals and take steamy baths and meet Mark for relaxing lunches and go on daytime runs and have coffee chats with friends and volunteer at both schools and paint everyone's rooms and magically tidy the whole house using the KonMari Method. If life ever really gets there, I'll be sure to tell you.


For now, I'll tell you that the life of every mom you know is probably overwhelmingly messy. She'll smile and like your pictures and click "maybe" on your invites, hoping that someday her life will calm down enough for her to actually finish that book on her nightstand. Don't give up on her. I won't give up on you either. Send me a note. Post on my page. Let's start talking about what is important to you.


Are you that messy mom feeling pressure? It's okay. I feel it, too, and people call me Supermom. Whatever.

MOUNTAINS. BABIES. PEACE.
 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Celebrating Holidays without a Village

When reminiscing about our childhood holidays, we may fondly remember piling in our parents' car, driving from house to house to see the extended families of both our mothers and fathers. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day could be packed with festivities, from morning till night, as several generations lived in the same town. A ten minute drive from one grandma's house, to another aunt's house, and back home again, in time to set out a plate of cookies for Santa was typical. Streets were lined with cars, as every house on the block was hosting a family celebration…gathering with their village.

Fast forward to today. Parents are not always living or raising their children in the same situation that was common for Americans in previous years. My generation is the generation which moved away from our hometowns. We graduated from college and joined a global workforce. We live where wide ranges of opportunities exist, and we are eager to explore cultures and experiences, many of which are vastly different from what we had known as children.

My parents still reside in my childhood home, and my grandmother peacefully lives in the only place I have ever known as hers. I cherish that continuity and safety which exists for me. I love that I'm able to look out my parents' back window to gaze at my kids playing with their cousins…the same yard where I played with my cousins and friends and brothers. I appreciate the moments when I walk into my grandma's kitchen, and she offers me butter pecan ice cream, just as she did thirty years ago. I know how special it is to have these places to return to, not only in my memory, but also in real time with my children.

Yet, my husband and I have not created the same experience for our own children. We aren't able to settle down near our parents or siblings. We are the ones who don't live there. Checking calendars weeks in advance and waiting to see how the weather will pan out is always a part of our visits. Though emotionally close, we actually aren't with our village.

We are not the only family living this way. A large portion of our friends are what we call transplants. So many people have moved into this area to work, from a variety of other states and countries.

So, how do we manage this life, without our built-in village living near us? The answer is two-fold:

First, we make sure that our immediate family, the six of us, is strong.

Second, we work to build meaningful relationships with other families with similar values. We are becoming a village for one another.

As the holidays approach, I reflect back on the farthest place we ever lived from our village. For two years, we celebrated Christmas in  Japan. Although we may have missed out on the huge gatherings of cousins and indulging in our favorite American dishes, we received the blessings of something much richer. Our village was full. It busted at the seams with every other family who was missing home and craved to be surrounded by love. Our children played with children they had grown to know like cousins. We ate, drank and were merry with the friends who were living life with us. They weren't our brothers or sisters, but we felt entrusted to them because of our shared experience.
 

As I wish you a Happy Holiday season, I'd like to extend a challenge to my readers. Some of you are surely long-time residents of your town, while others of you are transplants (like me). If you are a lifer with a big heart, why not open up your village a bit to someone you know who needs one? Supporting a neighbor's child by watching him play basketball or attending her choir concert will help build a feeling of community and family. Extending an invite during the holidays will bring joy in ways you may not even be able to imagine.

To my fellow transplants, I know it's hard to move. I know it can be difficult to find or make that new village, especially if you left one behind that already seemed perfect. I know you miss seeing your own family for the holidays. I know! Until you find your village, try searching for a Newcomers Club in your area…and smiling. You will find your people.

Whether you are living in your village, or an ocean away, there's always room for more.

 

Happy Holidays to my people!!

Just a sampling of the village we made during our Japanese days.  

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

A Mother's Role Is...

After decades of watching my favorite chefs on The Food Network entice and teach me about cooking, it is still my go-to channel when I catch a moment to myself. I have little in common with most of the hosts, but I still watch. I learn. I relax.

A few years ago, I discovered The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond. She was a busy mom of four who cooked home style food for her family. I thought somebody like me finally was on TV. Then, I took notice of the manner in which she described herself. She always declared,

"I'm a writer, blogger, photographer, mother…and an accidental country girl."

While I watched her show intently and devoured her recipes, I had a difficult time moving past the placement of her role as mother. I would think to myself, How can she not list mother first? Isn't that how moms introduce themselves?

"Hi, I'm so and so. I have this many kids in grades x, y and z."

The Pioneer Woman boldly did the exact opposite of what I do. Talk about guts. I had never seen anything like it. While I'm embarrassed to say it made me uneasy in the beginning, I grew accustomed to hearing her list.

"Credential, credential, credential, mom."

Why did I find it so strange? Maybe because so many moms I know tend to highlight their position in motherhood before any other of life's accomplishments. Am I sheltered? Old-fashioned? Clueless?

What do you do?

You may have noticed that my own role as blogger has taken a shift these past few months. While I once published new work three times a week, that momentum became increasingly difficult to maintain. Not because I didn't have anything left to say, not because this life became less interesting, and certainly not because I was tired of talking with you.

So, why did my posts slow? Where have I been?

Simply stated, I have been a mom.

I don't need to detail my life as a mom for you. You know what I've been doing. You know because you are a mom, you live with a mom or you were raised by one.

We've talked about fear of failure. The unrealistic reach for perfection. Each Tuesday, Thursday or Saturday that passed by without a post weighed heavily on my mind. People often asked about my blog. I didn't want to disappoint my readers. I didn't want to admit I was easing up my writing schedule. Couldn't I keep up? Shouldn't I just do it all?

I'm here to say that for this mama, the answer today is "No." At this point in my life, doing it all means being all in for my family.

Remember when I said I was having a bit of an identity crisis with my baby going off to school? Currently, we are in week four, and I'm nowhere near solidly identified yet. My kids are doing astoundingly well without me. I know I am still Mom, but I have no one to mother for seven hour stretches. It's a bizarre feeling and a weary way to walk through the day. I'm happy for that bit of peace, yet aching for the company of my boisterous boys and girl.

This week is when I will adjust the settings on my blog. My parrot head schedule is changing. I'm nervous, but it's happening. Will you bear with me through this new stage of blogging? I'm not giving it up or leaving. I'm simply admitting that I have had to move my priorities for a while. I'm giving myself permission to let go of those self-imposed deadlines to enjoy this new part of motherhood: a mom with big kids.  

My proud place in life right now is mother, wife, friend, writer… and official Bringer Togetherer.  I still have space for everybody…including myself.

Let's keep connected on my Facebook page on the days I'm not writing new stories. Share your triumphs and struggles. Ask questions to the community of parents there. You know I love to create meaningful discussion. You can start here:


If you had to list five ways to describe yourself, what would they be? Are you surprised at how they have shifted over the years?

One of my roles as Mom this summer was to race in a Saturday morning Mud Run with my daughter.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

A Child Helps His Mom Accept the First Day of Kindergarten

A woman mothering through denial can be quite productive. I have noticed how much my mind was freed up for the daily tasks of parenting, as I refused to focus on the fact that my youngest child would be going to kindergarten this year.


Kindergarten for #4 commences in less than 24 hours. All day kindergarten, that is. The reality of our situation finally has hit me. I have spent the whole summer scrolling past other blogs about starting kindergarten, because I wasn't prepared to allow my mama emotions to bubble to the surface. If I acknowledged that other women were feeling somber about their babies going to school, I would be admitting that mine was going, too.


It was much simpler to pretend. To deny what was about to happen. To cherish our extra long summer. To savor this cushion of preparation time between preschool and the big school.


Obviously, I prepared myself for kindergarten on the required days, like during back to school shopping and meet-the-teacher-night. Because Marshall was the last of four to attend his elementary school, I wasn't nervous. I wasn't worried. We sailed through the motions of pumping him up for school, exactly as all parents do for their children starting a new grade or new adventure.


Letting on that I was sad for my baby to leave the house was never on option.


Deny.


Kids starting school in September is something they do. It's matter-of-fact. All of our other children have done it, and this guy would, too. What was there to dwell on or fuss over, really?


Dismiss.


Right when I thought I developed the most effective coping mechanism ever for sending the baby of the family to school all day, my child gradually nudged me in another direction.


Accept.


About four weeks into summer, sweet Marshall decided that he didn't need to hold my hand anymore when we were in parking lots. Each time we went somewhere together, he was less and less eager to instinctively grab my outstretched hand. The words, "Hold my hand!" were coming out of my mouth, while in the past, I never had to say anything. At first, he would oblige me. I would feel his warm and soft fingers clutch mine, and all was right with my world again.


That familiar feeling didn't last forever. Because the other kids were with us every day, he was picking up on the fact that they weren't holding my hand. He declared, "Nobody else holds your hand. I'm big now, so I don't need to do it anymore. I'm not a baby."


Inside, I knew that he was probably right, but doesn't a mom wish for all of her kids to stay as close to her as possible, for as long as...well, forever? Naturally, knowing that he would be going to school, and our days of holding hands during shopping trips were coming to an end, I still encouraged him and reached out for his hand. Each passing day of summer, I felt him pulling a bit more away from me. Letting go of me further from the entrance and running to the door without me. Reaching for more independence. Grasping to be one of the big kids.


For months, we had been telling our son that going to kindergarten meant he was a big boy. Big enough to ride the bus. Big enough to eat lunch with friends. Big enough to be away from home. Here he was, exhibiting his bigness, but his mama wasn't ready to let those fingers go.


As summer vacation came to a true close, the gates of my mind were shoved open to accept the reality of what my future days would be like. I could no longer pretend that my baby was going to be my shopping buddy or eating Goldfish in my backseat. No more rocking in our chair and reading stories. His favorite mid-morning glass of milk at our kitchen table would only happen on weekends. Lounging in jammies a few days a week...forget it.


My house would be quiet. Eerily quiet.


My car would be empty. Vastly empty.


Two nights before school was set to start, I pulled out our picture books about kindergarten. Bellies to his bedroom floor, Marshall and I read Miss Bindergarten Gets Ready for Kindergarten. Unexpectedly, my personal enthusiasm for Marshall's new adventure crept in, and when he expressed a few of his five-year-old worries, I turned on my "Pump it Up" mode once more.


A most thrilling aspect of sending our children to kindergarten is that they come home to us knowing how to read. Because he doesn't like to be left out, I used reading as my main selling point for Marshall. A smile spread across his face when he realized that he soon would be reading and understanding words and books...just like the big kids!


Marshall taking his time to let my hand go this summer was exactly what I needed to be able to let him go on to kindergarten. I know he is ready to walk up the stairs of the school bus without me, with his big brother right behind him. I'll firmly stand in the street and wave like crazy, as the doors close and the new driver takes my last baby to the big school.  

If I've learned anything from my experience with blogging, it is to pay attention to the details.

 

Firsts. 

 

Lasts.

 

All of the in-betweens which tend to go unnoticed in motherhood if we're not looking.


Our three older kids held my hand in parking lots for years, and they eventually let me go. I don't remember how those days ended. My blog, while written to lift up others, has served as a journal of our lives. Not everyone reading today has a kindergartener. Not everyone reading even has small children anymore. However, a lot of people do feel that most days run together, mainly indistinguishable from one another. Why not try journaling? You'll be surprised at how much you can appreciate the smallness of this big life you are living.
 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

What ARE You Going to Do All Day?

My family is in the midst of a long and lazy summer. I find myself desperately clinging to the carefree nights, more tightly than I've ever clung to them in the past. Every summer before now, I have been ready for the kids to return to school. I've been anxious for their routines to kick in and for them to experience time and space away from one another.

This year is different, because a dramatic change is coming. My main role in this life I have built for the past thirteen years will shift. I will be a stay-at-home-mom, although no children will be staying home with me. When people find out I'm suddenly going to be all alone, every day of the week, they curiously stare at me and probe for answers.


Naturally, first comes, "So, are you going to back work?"


When I tell them that I'm not going to work yet, they fire back with, "Well, then what are you going to do all day?"


While a minor identity crisis may be looming for me, I'm not going to focus on it quite yet. I do have plans. Plans I'm going to take my time in navigating. Plans for all of the tasks around our house which have been placed on hold while forty sticky fingers and eight growing feet have been making this place their home.


Projects I should try to complete once the children go back to school:


Paint. All of the kids chose new colors for their rooms, which we had planned to do over summer break. It didn't happen. I've been wanting to paint our bathroom and bedroom since we moved in 5 years ago. The family room is due, as is our dining room and entry way. Okay, I'm just going to say paint...a lot.


Hang up pictures: I'll start in the kitchen, since we removed them in April 2014 to paint that room, and they are still sitting next to the washing machine, waiting.


Organize the linen closet: I need to develop a better lay-out so that balled-up fitted sheets don't jump out at us every time we open the door.


Purge my personal junk drawer: If I move all of the old high school photos to a box in the basement,
I'll be able to create a functional jewelry drawer. My current jewelry system is a disgrace.


Clean closets: Every mom could spend a lifetime making closets more efficient or pleasing to the eye. However, my side of our shared husband/wife closet is admittedly the worst in the house. I end up wearing the same five items, because I don't want to disturb my piles.


Restructure the toys: When we remodeled our basement a few months ago, we needed to move all of the toys into a storage area. The only toys we kept out were the air hockey table and the kids' Legos. Everything else has been crammed, shoved and smashed into a room, which, thankfully has a door. Many of you would say, "If you haven't used them in so many months, the kids don't miss or need them, so just let the items go." I, too, believe in this theory, but first, we must make our way through the walls of toys before we can donate any of them. Fun!


Plan meals: Now that I'm going to be child-free for grocery shopping and meal prep, I should have hot and variety-filled dinners on the table by 5:30 every night of the week. Maybe I'll finally figure out Pinterest without being so overwhelmed that I close the screen and run. I'll discover new Crock-pot recipes, meaning my kitchen will stay clean all afternoon as I tackle those monsters in my closet.


Now, let's be real. Those plans might take me all year to complete, or I may be writing next fall about how I still haven't hung up my pictures in the kitchen. Life happens. Kids stay home with illness. Opportunities arise. I'm never going to stay at home every day, all day, cooking, cleaning and organizing. I wish those were my strengths. The truth is, I have no idea what life is going to be like in my future, because I have never experienced this stage. I have always had babies and kids in tow.


Ways I hope to spend my time, once the children go back to school:


Enjoying hot coffee: Alone, or with dear friends, I will drink my coffee, while it's hot, for the first time in my life.


Strolling TJ Maxx: With all of my painting ambitions will come a need for some new home décor items. I'm hoping to call some other newly empty-home moms to join me for leisurely browsing.


Volunteering at both schools: Until now, our chances to attend field trips and be in the classroom have been limited to when Grandma could come into town to help with little siblings or if Mark could take some time off work. We still chaperoned at least one every year, and I dragged the youngest kids along to most PTA events, but now, the freedom to go everywhere and do everything is boundless.


Reading, writing, watching my own shows and talking on the phone in peace: These dreams are universal for all parents. 


Meeting Mark for lunch dates: Probably what I'm looking forward to the most, and what will help me when I'm missing the four small extensions of myself, is being able to see my husband in the middle of the day. We won't need to pay for a baby-sitter in order to have a quiet meal together. What?? Am I really talking about our life?


I was driving our oldest son to a middle school orientation night, and I asked him a question about the eighth graders. Mid-sentence, I remembered he is an eighth grader. How is that possible, when it was just yesterday that I was 23, sitting next to Mark in our first house, anxiously waiting for those two blue lines to appear?


We've all heard the saying, "The days are long, but the years are short."


I have a feeling that once all the kids are in school, both the years and days will feel shockingly short.


Moms: What do you think your day is going to look like this year? Do people have expectations of what your life should be like because you have more kids at home or less kids at home, or because you're working now or home now?


Let's make this year your year! You have worked hard to be where you are and to have brought your children to whatever stage they are in right now. Wanna meet for coffee?

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Crossing the Finish Line

Training.


I had never officially trained for anything in all my 36 years. In the past, I had been able to complete most tasks without check-ins and schedules. Then, on the brink of summer, I declared I was going to be a runner. I knew I could not do it on my own, so I joined a training group led by my friends.


Much like the four times I anticipated childbirth, the preparation for my very first 5K race was wrought with pure uncertainty. The training session carried on for eight weeks...two-thirds of our summer. The procrastinator and denier in me refused to calculate how many miles were actually in five kilometers until our third week running.


5K = 3.1 miles


Wow!


Now you know, too.


For experienced runners, training for a 5K race may seem so minute. Experienced runners breeze through 5K every time they step out their front door for a morning work-out. For a newbie runner like myself, my journey was anything but breezy. During every single run, my brain and body battled through so much.


Nerves.


Fear.


Breathlessness.


Pain.


Tears.


Doubt.


Exhilaration.


Relief.


Anticipation.


I was the most beginner of beginners, and I was often the slowest runner. Even after eight weeks, the longest I had run was 20 minutes. Leading up to the race, which was the culmination of our training, I still remained unsure how I would manage. I hoped that the adrenaline and excitement of the crowds would keep me moving, even if my legs and lungs would try to quit. New friendships were formed and old ones had been strengthened, so I leaned on them as well.


Then, there's the whole reason why I began to run at all. There is my family. My four kids watch me walk out the door in my neon shoes and know their mom is a runner. The confidence and pride that have blossomed in the past two months are life-changing. I'm modeling behavior that will have positive effects on my children. Some have even started to run with me. They often leave me in the dust, but seeing me sweat and work and fight through my running sets an example for determination and perseverance.


Every runner has to start somewhere. Every runner has a first race. I captured many of the moments of my first race in my mind as I pounded through those 3.1 miles, but the moment I hope stays with me forever is when I passed my family on the side of the course. Their dad boosted them off their lawn chairs when he saw me coming around the corner, so all four of them jumped up and clapped for me, cheering, hollering and yelling.


They shouted, "Go, Mom!! You can do it! Come on, Mom, you're doing great!"


My kids. Little kids, whom I have been watching and supporting from the sidelines for years and years, were there to cheer for me. It was surreal.


I passed them with a smile and a fist pump in the air and kept on running. As the course wound through more neighborhood streets, I began to grow weary. Tired. Nervous if I could keep going. As I followed my way back out of the street, I knew that I could keep going because I would see my family again. Those three silly boys and my motivational daughter were waiting, once again, for me to emerge from the path.


Aaaannnnd...that's when I lost it!


My official cheerleaders were relentless in their encouragement, as tears of elation streamed down my already red and sweaty cheeks. Mark worried for a second I was hurt, but shouldn't he know better by now that I cry at everything? I waved again, soaked up their love, and kept on running to the end.


So, maybe all of this crazy talk I'm spewing would discourage anyone who's reading from ever wanting to take up running. I hope that it's the absolute opposite.


Please take a look at my face as I crossed the finish line. See the pure joy in my eyes?

Did I just say pure joy from running?


I did, and I meant it.


After our race, we were enjoying fresh blueberries around a picnic table, and my dear friend and coach, Renee, said these words to my children:


"Do you see your mom? Look at what she did and how strong she is!"


Moms are strong. We should want to show our children what our bodies and minds can do when we try. They will learn from us to be confident in themselves, too. Three hours ago, I met a woman new to our group who was running for the very first time...ever. A delicate place in my heart pounced with excitement, as I insisted that she CAN and WILL be a runner.

What will you be? Please take it from me, you can do it.

 

 

My friend, Rachel, snapped these photos of me reaching my goal and heading toward Mark and the kids for the final time. I'll be running another 5K in September. The kids want to do it with me. Mission accomplished!

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Why We Should Stop Telling Parents to "Enjoy Every Second"

Words I would use to describe myself would be sentimental, gushy and emotionally invested in everyone and everything. My facial expressions do little to hide my feelings, whether they are cheerful or dismal. These aspects of my personality switch between a gift and a curse. A gift for those who reap the benefits of my care and kindness.  A curse for myself, for I experience some moments when I wish I could simply hit a switch. Turn off the tears. Turn a blind eye to the deep connection to every living and breathing human being who crosses my path.


You would probably envision that a person who so easily empathizes, appreciates and harmonizes with the world around her would have been one of those "I have enjoyed every single minute of motherhood, and so should you" type of moms. I probably spent hours longingly gazing into each one of my new baby's eyes: rocking, singing and caressing those chubby and silky soft cheeks.


You would guess that as a new mother, I remembered to cherish our interactions, no matter how tiny. I paid extra attention, because it was going to be over before I could blink. I realized they would be heading off to school soon, then morphing into mouthy teenagers refusing to follow curfew. I was constantly aware that eventually, my teensy newborns would be fully functioning adults with careers and families. They would move too far away to worry about their old mom, who once nursed and rocked and cherished them.


You would figure that I proudly captured every memory. I ignored the telltale exhaustion which new parents experience. I gleefully piled on more pregnancies...more screaming babies...more dirty diapers...more tantrum throwers...more laundry...more sippy cups...more demands on my body...more thoughts about "is this normal?"...more moves as a trailing spouse...more years since my own career...more...more...MORE!


Of course, I didn't do anything of the sort.


Here's the problem. No new mother (or father) can even attempt to notice it all, let alone embrace and enjoy it while it is happening. It is not possible or realistic, because we are beaten so down by it to see any of it. Every single cell in our bodies and our brains: Sapped. Dried up. Depleted. Deleted.


We are outnumbered, outwitted and outdone by the end of each day. We negotiate with toddlers to no avail. We wash bodily fluids out of places we would like to pretend we haven't seen. We wonder why babies have acne and cradle cap and acid reflux, and we want to fix everything. We cannot remember the last time we had a shower, a hot meal or a talk with a friend which wasn't interrupted by "No!! Don't! Sorry...I gotta go!"


Those of us whose children have graduated from the baby stage fondly look back with nostalgia. We do feel grateful to no longer need diaper bags or strollers for a quick trip to the zoo. We are ecstatic when our children are finished with our personal milk jugs and eventually learn to pour their own cereal. We are relieved.


It isn't until we pass a stage in parenting when we can actually see what we previously endured. Do I wish that my super emotive brain had been better equipped to mentally record all of the beautiful moments of my early years of motherhood?


Absolutely.


Will I pretend that I was doing it all along?


Absolutely not, because it would be a disservice to new mothers everywhere.


Facebook and blogs and well-meaning women in the grocery store who continue to insist that moms with new babies should be "enjoying every second" already have clawed their way out of the trenches and magically erased the battle scars they endured along the way. Their children know how to complete basic tasks such as use the toilet, take a shower, make toaster waffles for all the siblings and read! Life changes when children gain independence.


If you're a new mama with little ones at home, please feel free to ignore what you've heard about enjoying every second. If I've said it before, I take it back. (Sometimes, we slip up and exhibit inappropriate sadness about our kids growing older). It is true, they do eventually head off to school and become teenagers, and all of the baby years will be behind you.


Suddenly, a marvelous day will come when you will be able to breathe for a bit. You'll be sitting on the beach with another seasoned mom, laughing about how you cannot believe everything you CONQUERED in those early years. You will pat each other on the back, because you were rock stars-even on your most unglamorous days covered in dried up milk and baby puke.

You are rocking it, Mama!

Just check out my last kid carrying his own sand toys down to the water. Independence. A true sign of a mom who is doing her job. You will be there, too!

 

 

 

Tell us about your most unglamorous moments. You'd be surprised to know you are not alone.

 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

7 Stages of a Kid-Free Vacation

As Mark and I approach fifteen years of marriage, we often forget what our life entailed before we transitioned from two college students aching to spend every day together to two groggy parents who rarely find two consecutive nights uninterrupted by the hum-drum details of managing a family of six. Living this life, working through the highs and lows of parenting, tends to take a toll on the people who created it. Like everyone else experiencing this stage, our previous life is a distant blur.


So goes the life of a married couple with kids. We love them; we love each other. We crave family time; we crave couple time. Our emotions oscillate as we walk this delicate balance of seeking enough minutes in the day for everyone. Most days, it's a struggle. Most days, we long for more. Some months, we may only squeeze in a couple of short hours out of the house together. Otherwise, we settle for coffee and squirrel-gazing on the deck while the kids play Minecraft inside, or wine and Netflix on the couch when they're finally asleep. We manage, because it's all we can do at this point in time. It's being a parent. We want it. We love it, even though it's difficult. We know it will not be like this forever.


However...


You can imagine that when an opportunity came up for us to spend a week focusing only on ourselves, we pounced on it before the grandparents had a second to change their minds.


They offered at least five, maybe seven days for us to be...alone. Alone, alone.

Because the decision was pretty last minute, and we already had commitments for a couple of the days, we weren't able to sneak off for a Caribbean vacay (my first choice). Instead, we enjoyed three staycation nights and two nights in a cabin on a lake a few hours from home. Mark worked some, and I fulfilled my obligations that had been set a month ago. As we navigated this new territory of kid-free vacation time, I realized that we did not experience an easy shift from parents to a couple on a romantic getaway. Our vacation moved through stages.


Seven stages to be exact.


Seven stages I did not expect to encounter during our eagerly anticipated break from parenthood. If you are ever going to enjoy some time away from your children, you may want to be prepared for this range of emotions that may show up out of nowhere. They came as a shocker for me, for sure.


Stage 1-Elation


We left the four children in our hometown (with both sets of grandparents) after spending the July 4th holiday weekend with everyone. Prepping for their weeklong stay was a lot of work for me, and while I knew I would miss them, I also knew that they were going to have cool adventures. So much excitement and anticipation had been building, so when it officially happened, all we could do was be giddy. I actually clapped and shrieked a little.


Stage 2-Relaxation


Our drive home without them was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that we were able to discuss ourselves. We talked about current events, work, our upcoming plans, whatever we wanted. Free from typical refereeing which usually happens during our family trips, we didn't utter any of these sentences:


Would you please chew with your mouth closed?


Stop poking your sister in the neck.


We'll be home in an hour.


Leave his pillow alone.


Quit kicking my seat.


Who has to go to the bathroom?


No, you cannot have any more snacks.


Yes, we're almost there.


How would you like it if someone poked you in the neck?


You know what I mean. Without anyone behind us, we were so relaxed. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all as we soaked up the lack of sound. Coming home to an empty house meant more quiet, more peace, more freedom to choose our own paths. We controlled the TV, the iPad, the meals, everything! It was surreal. We even walked to a local restaurant for dinner on Monday evening. The only people who walk to that hip spot are the young couples who haven't had any children yet and the empty nesters in our neighborhood. This time, we were one of them. No kid menus for this couple. No whiners about tired feet. Just us. Just awesome.


Stage 3-Regret


Tuesday morning dawned, and after Mark left the house for work, I began to wonder if we had made a mistake.


Did we really need all that time to ourselves? Should I really be sitting in such an empty house, sipping piping hot coffee and checking Facebook, uninterrupted?


I was missing my daily squeezes. Missing the sounds of my family. Missing the rooms filled with bodies, no matter how sassy or stinky or silly they are. I cleaned. I cooked. I laundered. I completed all of my motherly duties, all without a child underfoot. It felt strangely wrong, and I told Mark that I was worried about how slowly the day passed by without anybody home with me. Is this what life will be like when they all go to school next year?


Stage 4-Worry


Wednesday morning was our planned departure date for our mini-vacation. After we talked with each child and tied up loose ends around the house, I averted my future identity crisis. We hit the road, which meant more time in the car together, in the cabin, in restaurants. We turned into a married couple with no kids in sight.


We've been alone for four days now. What if we run out of conversation topics? Is this what it's going to be like when the kids are all grown, and we're alone together every day? Can we handle it?


Stage 5-Guilt


Yes! Handling it well, Mark and I felt young again. We dozed past 9 a.m., kayaked across a serenely tranquil lake, devoured double scoop waffle cones and cracked up at Tommy Boy. Throughout the hours, our children came up in conversation, always in the back of our minds.


Suddenly, by Thursday, the entire night slipped by without us calling to check on them, and I felt like the most rotten mother in the world.


How could I have gone to sleep without hearing from my babies?


I'm not 19 anymore, what was I thinking?


I'm a mom with countless responsibilities, and being an ultra-competitive diva playing Scattergories at a cabin in the boonies isn't one of them.


Or is it?


Stage 6-Reconnection


I drove to see the kids on a Saturday, exactly six days from saying good-bye to them. They seemed older and appeared different. We hugged, and I prodded them for info about their week. Instead of lengthy, juicy play-by-plays, they only provided me with short answers.


"Good. Yeah. I don't know."


The five of us returned all the way home on Sunday, driving with no DVD player and in tight enough quarters that their legs and shoulders actually touched one another. Taking Mark's sporty car so I could drive with an open sun-roof and loud radio on the way there didn't exactly work out so well for the return trip.


I began wondering if separating the family for almost a week made me less tolerable to their usual behaviors or if the kids were angry with each other and me for leaving them for a week. What had I done?


Stage 7-Anticipation


When Monday afternoon rolled around, I felt myself missing Mark like I hadn't missed him in years, even though he was only ten miles away at work. I had grown accustomed to being near him, to our bodies and minds being present with one another all the time. I found myself daydreaming about our future. I began to imagine not only our next date night, but also our next kid-free vacation and even our retirement. I remembered why we fell in love half of my lifetime ago, and I focused on how blessed I was that we have an entire life ahead of us.


Next, I chose to turn an even stronger focus to the kids. Focus on their humor, their needs and their purpose in our home. Being without them for a week did create a longing for more family time. More time connecting with each one. More listening. More summer relaxing. Just more.


Parents have so many responsibilities, and one of them is that we do what we can to recharge and renew ourselves. A kid-free vacation may not be in the cards for everyone, but any amount of time you can devote to yourself as an adult first can only help.


You may be surprised at how much closer it will bring the entire family. Even if there's not time this year, think about it for another time. Kids benefit from happy parents. I hope you will benefit from my experience in knowing it may not be easy, but it will definitely be worth it.


What have you done to renew yourself as a parent? Do you have any advice to share?

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

One Year Ago Today, We Started This Parenting Journey Together!

June 25th, 2014. On that morning, I vented about modern motherhood through the land of Facebook. I blabbed that it was only our third week of summer vacation, yet I was already feeling extremely overwhelmed. I composed a status update consisting of five paragraphs (a little long for most people's tastes) that struck nerves and reached out in a way I never could have expected. Most people would scroll right past something that drawn out, because honestly, who has time to read anything that winded? Yet, somehow, the mamas in my feed that summer morning did take the time. They took a few extra moments of their already hectic days to read all of what I had to say. Me. Why?


I was no expert. I was simply another mom. A mom they knew. Maybe they knew me through our current circumstances as moms in real time: school moms, church moms, neighbor moms, friend moms. Maybe we hadn't ever seen one another in action as moms, but we had shared life together when we were younger.


Maybe it was my title: "Parenting is Hard." Maybe that line reeled them in because it was something everybody felt but had never really admitted, especially on social media. Here I was, a happily married mother of four darling children, who on the outside appeared to have everything together...all the time...suddenly declaring that our life was actually frazzled, stressful and chaotic.


Admitting my mothering struggles that morning through typing felt like free therapy for me. Writing that post came quickly and easily. The words I shared were extensions from ideas I had discussed with my closest friends and family in the past. They had been bursting at the surface of my fingers for so long, and the process of releasing them online was cathartic. Knowing that previously talking about similar issues always resulted in a head nod, laughter and an outburst of "Oh my gosh...Yes!!!!" gave me confidence that those five paragraphs might be relatable to at least one or two other people.


All I can say now, exactly 365 days later, is "Wow!"


Wow, did we start a conversation?


Wow, did we ever open up a lot of incredibly important dialogue?


Wow, did we create a safe place for sharing...with people we know, people we see, and people we can trust?


Wow, did we uncover that so many other moms and dads and grandmas and grandpas were also feeling exactly the same emotions we were feeling, not only about the difficulties of being moms and dads and grandmas and grandpas (because those are so very real), but also about the triumphs, joys and prideful moments we experience in our roles as caretaker.


Wow, has this journey been an honor for me?


From the day that I first opened up my heart to my Facebook friends, and then my friends began to share their hearts with me, I knew that we were on to something special.


For those of you who have been here with me since day one, before Mama Loves You and Chocolate, Too was even created,...I thank you.


If you're just finding this community now, because somebody directed you here, welcome to this world! It's a sweet place where we come together to learn from other parents. From their wisdom. From their mistakes. From their humor.


I'd like to take a second to share what I wrote that fateful June day last Summer. Maybe you need to read it again. Maybe your June is already beginning to feel a lot like last year...busy, crazy, annoying. If that's your situation, you'll be relieved that you are not alone. Not one bit.


Perhaps, this June is more relaxed for some reason. Maybe you have ridden the waves of this journey with me and benefited from my constant reflection...and over sharing. You can read my words this time around with a thankful calm and think back to the times when you have felt ultra-stressed and envious of the perfect families all around you. Read and remember that even though we're in a safe parenting place at the moment, at any time we can slip back into the madness...and that's okay. Every parent is just an extra school project or case of the stomach flu away from losing it. Even the ones who seem to have it all together. Even the so-called Super Moms.


If you have ever felt an emotional pull to the community that results from the writing I share from my heart, I sincerely ask that you share it with others...with other moms or dads or grandmas or grandpas who could also use a smile or nudge of encouragement. I wouldn't be who I am without the strong network of fellow parents who allow me to pick their brains and smear my tears on their shoulders. Maybe you have parents in your network who are looking for you to be that person for them, and you may not even know it yet. Parenthood cannot and should not be done alone.

"Parenting is Hard" Written June 25, 2014

I keep having to remind myself of this new mantra I've discovered: "Parenting is hard." Nobody ever told me it was going to be easy, but somehow it seemed easier in the beginning. Sure, I was sleep deprived and up to my eyeballs in diapers for ten years, but I've found this next stage of parenting to be the most difficult so far.

Having a middle-schooler threw me for a loop I was not expecting. Having four kids in three different schools made for a crazy year. I could not wait for summer vacation to be here! I realize now that our life will be this way from now until who knows when...crazy. The kids will always be in many different schools and experiencing different stages of growing up. Their ages are so spread apart, and it's extra obvious now. When the oldest was 7, they were all still so young and little. Now the older two are 11 1/2 and 10 1/2, and it's a whole new world. We can never go back to what it was before, and I have found myself struggling to accept it.

A friend of mine recently told me that these are the hardest years on a family. I can see it now. All the kids have mood swings like you would not believe. One minute, they're best friends; the next, they're screaming at the top of their lungs that they wished the others didn't exist. One day, they're telling me I'm the best cook in the world; the next, they're saying I only make "gross food."

We can't let our egos get the best of us. We can't believe these outbursts, or we'll never want to wake up to face another day. When I look around at school or church or on Facebook, it's easy for me to feel like our family doesn't measure up to the others around me. It makes me want to shut down and lock ourselves inside till everyone learns to behave in every social situation. Then I remember, parenting is hard. Everyone thinks it, they just don't always say it.

I ran into two friends at the grocery store the other night. We were all having the wonderful experience of shopping without our many children whining and pulling on our legs, calling us mean for not buying them a new toy or treat or whatever. We were relishing in the rare quiet and chance to talk without being asked, "Are you done yet? Let's gooooo!" We laughed that we should grab some wine and not go home. We had the chance to see that only a few weeks into summer vacation, we were all experiencing the exact same things. We all could see that parenting is hard, and that everyone feels it. Everyone's house is messy. Everyone's kids claim to be bored when they have an entire house full of toys. Everyone's kids fight with each other…a lot.

I'm writing this today because I need to vent, but also because maybe someone needs to hear it. Maybe one of my friends is feeling the stress I feel. Maybe you look at others and feel like they make parenting look so easy, but wonder why it's hard for you. I won't have the chance to run into most of you at the grocery store. I won't have the chance to give you a hug and say it's great to see you. Believe me, I wish I could. In the meantime, please take my little note as encouragement from afar.

Parenting is hard.

Let's admit it.

Let's accept it.

Let's get through it together.


Now, tell me how this Summer is starting out for you. Did you overbook yourself and wish you hadn't, or are you loving all the running here and there and everywhere? Are the kids bickering or claiming to be bored yet? Are you forcing them outside? Have you locked yourself in the bathroom yet? Come on, let's dish!

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

 

 

Squashing Self Doubt with Pink Running Shoes

I issued quite a bold statement a couple of weeks ago by telling all of you that I was going to become a runner. I typed it for all of cyberspace to see, which meant I could not repeal my daring declaration. I'm a woman of my word, so I had every intention to begin running. Did you notice that I never gave an exact date or instituted a concrete plan for this impending lifestyle change? Maybe I did that on purpose.


The momentum immediately following my announcement was strong. Friends reached out with support for me, and many even took my advice in declaring their own goals. I was so proud of all of you for your bravery. For your confidence. For your strength. You were inspiring!


One of my dear friends scheduled an appointment to fit me for running shoes. She is an expert, and if I was going to be serious, I needed the right equipment. No blisters for this mama. She and I spent the morning navigating the elaborate world of running footwear. It was overwhelming to say the least. She evaluated my gait. After a year in denial, I verbally admitted that my feet have grown a full size since my last baby was born.


Before sweet Anne lifted the lid from the first pair of shoes, she prefaced the reveal by saying, "How do you feel about pink?"


I like pink. I really do. My last pair of basic gym shoes were actually gray with pink accents. However, these babies were pink with a little bit of gray. Bright pink. Neon pink! The color pink I wore to the roller rink in 1986...as an eight-year-old. I modeled many styles and colors for Anne on that cheerful Saturday morning. Eventually, after trying out several pairs of shoes, the ones that felt the best and worked well with my foot shape turned out to be the atomic pink ones. Go figure.


After I packed up my fancy shoes and new running socks in my trunk, I still had no real plan laid out for how I was going to become a runner. I considered wearing my shoes to the airport to break them in, but I worried about the commotion their illumination would cause when gliding through the people mover. Instead, the shopping bag remained in my trunk for another two weeks. Waiting. Waiting for me to utilize the momentum once again and actually wear them.

My week away in Florida and then a week of end-of-school celebrations came and went. I still hadn't even opened the shoe box to show them to Mark or my kids. Maybe because that would make me more accountable to starting, to actually putting one foot in front of the other and going.


The right time to run eventually did arise. Last Wednesday afternoon, another friend of mine, who is already a runner, sent me a link to a 5K training group she was going to lead...which was going to begin in four days. Four days! She had been one of my biggest cheerleaders in this journey, and this group was not originally going to offer a session until the end of the summer. Enough of a need had arisen to start an extra training session now. Lucky for me! I decided the time was now. I promised her and told my very trusted physical therapist that I was going to do it. I was going to run a 5K in August.


All of the other girls who had considered running with me a month ago were becoming hesitant now that it was here. Now that it was real. I desperately wanted one of them to join the group with me, so that I wouldn't be the only newbie in a sea full of seasoned athletes. My confidence was waning. Somebody told me how hard it was going to be. My reserve of inspiration was slowly depleting. My husband feared I was going to try to run three miles on the first day, and he didn't want to see me hurt myself. I began to question my ability, just like I had done when I decided to try yoga last year (which, by the way, has become a part of me now...something I crave).


Perhaps Google would help ease my hesitation. Big mistake. A few quick searches, and I was doubting that I should even attempt the training. It's not actually called "Couch to 5K," which is what I think I need. What if it's too much too soon, and I can't do it? I don't even walk vigorously on a regular basis...I am freaking out!


In came my coach...my cheerleader, Wendy. She listened to my concerns and then told me not to freak and to show up. Two of my other friends would also be coaches, so a warm smile in the early morning was sure to go a long way. To my surprise, one of my previously hesitant friends decided to try it at the last second! She offered to pick me up so we could walk in together. Amazing! Everything was coming together so nicely, so I threw my apprehension out the window. I told Mark that I wasn't going to settle for any doubt, from anywhere or anyone...especially myself. I was going to run that 5K race in eight weeks. Nobody was going to tell me I couldn't do anything...ever.


What happened next was just what happened with my first time at yoga. I did what I had set out to do. Only this time I wasn't barefoot. I marched up, in my pink shoes, to a group of runners...and ran.


Surrounded by people from all walks of life, wearing every shade of neon color, we walked and ran and walked and ran...for sixteen minutes. When we circled back to the starting point, I was out of breath and sweaty and tired, of course, yet I felt exhilarated. Recharged by the fact that I had taken this challenge for myself seriously and conquered it. I pounded my doubt and fear into the pavement with my aggressive pink shoes.

Have you started on that journey you said you wanted to try last month? It's already the middle of June! If you sit around and pretend it will go away, like I might have done if it weren't for my special kicker-in-the-pantsers, you may regret it. Even if your body grows sore from using muscles you didn't know you had, or your mind tires easily from taking classes after a decade of only reading Dr. Seuss, it will be worth it. Let's go!

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

 

Being the Mom Who Doesn't Record Everything

Nineteen days have passed since I last clicked my keys to blog. My last message, about empowering ourselves to be bold, was left hanging in the air for over two weeks...waiting for me to return to write again. I have yet to allow this much time to pass in between posts, but I'll tell you that while I was away from blogging, I was happily living in the blurry, hurried moments with people who matter to me. Today, I finally have time to exhale-and write!


Living in the moment is something I realized I was doing a few years ago, long before the internet was filled with wiser-than-thou experts begging people to look up from their phones. The first time I was aware that I was living in the moment was when I attended a celebration for my oldest son's fifth grade class. I made a conscious decision not to record the performance. I chose to view the children, and thus my son, through the lenses of my own eyes...not that of a two inch screen. When he walked forward to the microphone to give a short speech, I wasn't worried about hitting record. I wasn't worried about having him in the center of the shot. I wasn't worried about the zoom.


Instead, I opened my ears and soaked in everything that he was saying to a very crowded room of parents staring back at him. My composed and poised son blew me away. He knocked the wind right out of me, and then came the water works.


Later, I realized that I was one of the only people not recording the performance. I was positive that I would not have felt as connected to him had I been watching him from behind my camera. Would I have been so moved by my child and still remember it to this day had I recorded him and watched him later at home? I don't think so.


Obviously, I do use my camera sometimes. I wouldn't want entire childhoods to pass by without any proof. I simply choose not to make capturing the moment (and then sharing the moment) a priority. The freedom that comes with leaving the stress of photography and videography behind makes me such a more relaxed mom at big events. I've seen so many parents miss the actual moment they were there to witness while they were setting up the camera. Capturing the wrong kids. Hitting photo instead of video or vice versa. Oops.


In a sea of phones and tablets and cameras blocking everyone's view, I'm the other mom...the one without any of it. Maybe you're thinking, "Doesn't she realize this is a big deal?" Maybe I look as though I don't care enough to preserve the moments with a digital memory. However, the opposite is true. I am able to watch it happen live and absorb it all. I see the raw emotions on the teacher's face as she bids a final farewell to her class. I see the bright smiles that naturally widen as small children are allowed to stroke the fur of a soft, fluffy rabbit. I see the rise and fall of a kid's chest as she completes a difficult athletic feat. It's beautiful. It's satisfying. It's what we dream about as parents.


I'm not here to tell people to stop taking videos or pictures of kids, because it's always fun to play them back and see them later. I'm here to introduce the idea that we can thoroughly enjoy experiences without a camera, too.

Have you ever gone to one of your kid's events and not recorded or photographed it? How did it feel?

 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

 

The Universe and this Mama Say, "Your Time is Now!"

I know this happens to all of you when you want to attempt something new. An idea creeps into your mind at the most inconvenient times, whispering into your over-thinking brain, "Hey, you know you should try it. It's meant for you. You see everyone else doing it, and you would be just as awesome at it as they are, so why don't you just freaking try it? Come on, try it. Do it!"


Of course, I'm not talking about any harmful temptations or negative peer pressure. I mean something that, ultimately, you know would fulfill you. It's something you want, yet you just don't know how to leap for it.


In the past, I have described for you my journey to starting this blog and beginning my yoga practice. These were two paths that I wanted for myself...envisioned for myself...yet I was unsure how to even begin to implement them into this really nutty life of ours. The key to turning those goals into a reality came when I vocalized them. The moment that I began to tell people that I was considering writing and trying yoga, a steady flow of encouragement bombarded me. It was invigorating. Nourishing. Supporting. Just what I needed to move forward and try.


Can I tell you a secret? I have a few new goals. I had been hiding from them for a long time, trying to keep them quiet. Hidden deep inside and away from anyone who would hold me accountable to them. If I ignored them or shushed them, they would go away. Right?


Wrong!


They wouldn't leave me alone. They refused to slink away into the night, leaving me to dream about decadent peanut butter shakes or luxurious hot stone massages. Instead, those goals have been relentless. Determined. Serious.


Then, somebody said something to bring out the brave in me.


A friend of mine communicated why she began something new in her own life. She described it as, "Everything in the universe was telling me to do it." Everywhere she turned: Television, online, friends, magazines, strangers. This new path was constantly in her face. Taunting her. Begging her to jump in and go.


As those words slipped out of her mouth, I stared at her in a trance, because her story seemed to be my story. That is exactly what happened to me with blogging and yoga. Maybe that's what is happening to me now.


With my new goals.


With my plans to become a runner....and a writer who reaches more people.


There. Those are my goals. I said them. Did you hear me?


I don't need to tell you all of the small ways in which I felt pulled to declare these goals. You only need to know that I finally was forced into making them real when an eclectic group of mamas sat together in a circle, drinking wine and sniffing essential oils. That's when I knew. Weird, huh?


Really, this post isn't for me. It's for you. For all of you who need something in the universe to tell you that it's time. I am here to tell you, it's time. Your time is now. Why are you waiting? Let me awaken that voice in your mind. You have no need to keep her quiet any longer. Wake her up and go!

Why was I so scared to do something new...again? Maybe these nasty little ego suckers, perfectionism and worry, played a role in my trepidation. Taming those beasts is something many of us struggle with, even the people who seem to be extremely confident. Fear of Failure. It's real and fierce. Let's encourage each other to stomp it into the ground.

 

 

How am I doing it? I told my runner friends, in person, that I'm going to start running. I jumped up and down with another friend who was also thinking about running. I encouraged her to declare her plans with me, because that's the first step. Seriously, that's what I did. After a PTA meeting, a few of us hopped around and chanted, "Say it out loud, say it, say it, say it!! We can do it together!" Corny? Maybe. Effective? Let's hope so!

 

As for my writing: I'm hoping that I can continue to grow my readership. I plan to work on submitting my writing more starting in September, but until then, I'll ask that if you are touched by one of my pieces, please share it with whomever you think will also enjoy it. I would like to have 1000 followers on my Facebook page by the end of this year. Bam! I'm being bold.


Let's make it happen.


If I haven't told you enough, thank you for being here with me. You have so many places to be and things to do, so when you take time to drive your eyes this way and read my words, I'm forever grateful.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/