saturday mornings.

” a look at my bedroom windowsill”

saturday mornings mean sleeping in.

maybe not sleeping but lying in bed with no rush to be anywhere.

sometimes girls in my bed, sometimes girls running up and down the hallway or behind closed doors playing with legos.

saturday mornings are about lengthy stretches and rollovers.  burying your face in the pillow or wrapping yourself around one.

saturday morning means lying around thinking about the weekend what we should or want to do.

saturday mornings mean drinking tea slowly rather than rushing  out the door to spill down your skirt on the way to the car.

saturday mornings mean a morning walk with the dog down the back path in the woods.

saturday morning means noticing the changes that are happening amongst the trees and getting excited.

saturday mornings are meant for egg sandwiches or egg wraps or omelets.

saturday mornings are about hoping for a lot to happen, which may or may not come to fruition.

still there is  a lot of promise in Saturday morning when nothing has yet started.

this Saturday morning there is sunshine and bird song.

it is one of those Saturday mornings I am in bed by myself and the girls are hidden behind their own door.

this Saturday i may hike or write or edit or stop by the farm.  maybe this saturday i will finish some collages.

regardless, Saturday is here and it doesn’t yet hold the tiredness or disappointment of Sunday evening.

it holds the promise of all those things yet to come.

movement.

it’s 9:00 pm.  the house is dark and quiet.  i have turned off the lights and shut my door.  the girls are in bed.  if i strain i can hear Jim Dale’s voice coming from their room reading them another in the series of Harry Potter on CD.

it’s spring (it feels like summer) but it’s spring and i’m ready to get moving again.  the girls and i walked a mile tonight after dinner just before dusk, but it  left me wanting a little more.

so i closed the door, put my Peter Davidson channel on Pandora and stuck my legs up the wall.  i never know where my yoga practice is going to go in the evenings.  i know there are certain series of poses i can do.  i used to wake up everyday and do sun salutations and close the evening with a relaxation series.  for awhile i followed this weekly schedule diligently.  now, i find though i just want to listen to my body and this is the way i start.  maybe it’s because my first yoga teacher always started us off with legs on the wall.  after a long day of work, rushing to feed the kids and jumping in the car to class, this was the perfect way to start, and so i still do.

and then i just let my body tell me what it wants and i just enjoy the quiet time listening and moving.  i’ve enjoyed good bouts of cardio many, many times.  it helped me lose 25 pounds last year, but my favorite thing in the world is the slow movements of a good yoga practice that put you in tune with feeling the muscles of your body working.

right now i’m putting special focus on my shoulders.  i had my first massage two weeks ago and the therapist was appalled at my upper back and shoulders.  apparently i haven’t just been carrying my tension there, it’s moved in and tried to make a permanent home.  in all the chaos that is my life, i was prepared to beg her to just let me take a nap on the warm table with the dim lights and the twinkly music, but alas, she knew there was work to be done.

now this past week i’ve been watching my shoulders like a hawk and  i’ve found at ALL points through the day they rest somewhere right beside my ears. so i’ve been doing this little twitchy movement each day, all day, as i recognize my creeping shoulders and force shrug them back down.

so they’re getting  a little special attention right now.

the last part of my practice is always the same too, savasana, oh sweet savasana.  looks so easy.  so not.  but so worth it.  in class we started by tightening every bit of our body and slowly letting it go.  have you ever tried to relax your cheeks?  let your eyes sink into the back of your head?  but it works and anyone who is doing yoga practice, please enlighten me as to how many times you’ve actually fallen asleep in this pose.  maybe it’s the fact i do it at night in the dark and i’m always tired, but it’s a common occurrence.

i wrote this whole post in my head as i worked tonight, but somehow sitting here now on the floor with the screen in front of me the beauty of the words i had then have left me. i’ve resolved to post the thoughts that are in my mind most evenings.  some nights as with this night, perhaps it will just be a diatribe about yoga.  oh well, some of you will get it.

it was a long winter this year.  in a way i fell off my path during those long months.

but i feel it coming back and each time i wonder, why has it fallen away.  this is such a wonderful part of my life.

i love my practice, but i’m missing yoga classes.  there’s so much more i want to learn.  no time to fit it into my schedule right now.  so it sits with the tai chi classes and the mountain climbing classes that line up behind it on the wish list.  let’s not talk either about the whole catalog of knowledge that could come from the kripalu or omega catalogs that have made their way to the mailbox the last couple weeks.

in the meantime i’ll just keep moving.

home.

i’ve spent the last three days at home.  sick.  it’s been hard for me to be still, but these two are doing an excellent job of showing me what you do when you are home alone all day.

 

this moment (3.12.11)

she had been to a sleepover.   12:30 a.m. she wanted to come home. we stopped for drinks, me still half in sleep, her in her flannel kitty cat pajamas. in the morning we were lazy.  then we went to breakfast just the two of us.  we didn’t talk once about her not making it through the sleepover.  we just enjoyed having this special time together. and when her sister came home later in the morning, neither one of us said a word.

 

 

Just Now 3.6.2011

current time: 7:58 a.m, in bed listening to the girls up already, playing Scrabble in the next room.

in my mug: did you think it would be a hot cuppa tea?  well, you are right, although there is an emptly glass of Chardonnay on the bookshelf leftover from last night.

in my belly: roasted vegetables and crusty bread from last nght, dinner for one.

in my ears: “Amber” by 311, and the sound of rain on the rooftop, ushering in Spring (i hope).

on the nightstand: ipod, a dollar bill, a scholastic book order, and a fly, guess spring is coming.

on the editor: a new blog header i’ve been working on, an  upcoming project perhaps i will see through

last watched: this movie, a random Itunes rental, but I fell in love with it.

feeling good about: 18 days until i hop a plane to Colorado.

feeling bummed about: my grandmother, suffering some medical troubles

last thing that made me laugh: listening to one of my grandmother’s stories in her living room in the afternoon.

and think: someone said last night regarding the health care issue “the problem is you see it as a right, i see it as a privilege”, is that the true nature of the problem?

6:55 am, friday morning

here i am.

6:55 am.  friday morning.

i’ve hit the snooze alarm too many times already.

each time choosing to fold myself back under a heavy comforter.

warm.

it’s raining.

raining, not snowing.

hooray.

the sound of the rain coming down is one of my favorite sounds.

perhaps it is just my love of water in all forms.

when i was young i would lie in my bed and listen to rain on a tin roof.

now i am listening as the rain trickles down this one.

melting all the snow outside for sure.

right now i am content to lie here and listen, from under the heavy comfort of the bedsheets.

but know i must get up soon.

pack the lunches, kiss the little ones goodbye, either a smack on the cheek or a nuzzle on the top of their heads.

slog through ten hours of work.

friday, the longest day.

but on the other side, freedom.

weekend.

a movie to snuggle up and watch together tonight.

friday nights the girls get to sleep in my bed and i camp out in one of theirs.

i have a free weekend this weekend.

had asked if anyone wanted to go out.

but now thinking about taking my camera to the ocean.

something about all that sea.

makes me think about endless possiblity.

lying here in bed, first thing in the morning.

faint light through the windows.

quiet.

makes me dream of possibilities.

before my feet hit the floor.

cold.

before the business begins.

but i’ll carry possiblity with me today.

i promise.

and hopefully, i will capture it through my lens.

this weekend.

and bring it home.

perfection.

{i have been playing a lot with words lately}

I had a bit of a meltdown last Thursday.  I had been sick and worn down.  Dotoomuchitis and bugbityouitis.  I have a problem, I want everything to be perfect.    I am a failed perfectionist.

I have tried to let go a little this past week and let myself just be.  Some days have been easier than others.  Tonight, I happened across an article in an old Yoga Journal entitled, “Making Peace With Perfection” and it was this line from the article that stood out to me:

“In Sanskrit, one of the words for perfection is purna, usually translated as fullness or wholeness”.

So now I am wondering, if I strive to define perfectionism as feeling full or whole, will that bring me closer to feeling peaceful with myself ?  If I don’t define perfection as everything being in it’s proper place, the undone sitting, whispering, failure, failure, failure to me every night will that bring me closer to feeling whole or well?

Perhaps.

Perhaps perfectionism is finding a balance between the work that needs to be done physically and the work that needs to be done mentally.  I do have enough sense to know that life should be about balance.

I don’t have enough sense to pay attention to my body before it gives me a swift kick in the ass.

In my ever ongoing  journey to balance my life I have come up with a new plan.  I am giving myself half a day Saturday and Sunday to do the need to’s.    The rest of the day is my time with no expectations to DO anything. No chores on weeknights, dinner, homework, a possible workout, and a chat with my honey is enough.

And I’ve made a pact to not go to bed later than 10:30 on a weeknight.  I’m getting better at it and mornings have been slightly more peaceful.

I’m still working on the perfectionism thing though.  And really I would like to throw the word out the window and away from my vocabulary.

Fullness and wholeness though.

That has a nice ring to it.

I think when I reach those rare moments when I feel that way I will just block my sight from everything else and sink in.  Because how often do we take the time in a blissful moment to stop and say, “this is perfection”.

Maybe that’s the answer.  Finding your bliss.

Or maybe I’ll just let go of the whole thing and just stop thinking.

That’s probably the best option of all.

love/hate/love

i just need to say a thank you to everyone who left a comment on my “hating the house moms” post and i’m hoping that everyone who left a comment is here again today to read this.

i wrote that post on a night i was literally and physically drop dead exausted. i vented all my frustration on my regrets for not being what i had dreamed perhaps one day to be or maybe just vented my frustration at being alone.

when i wrote that post i was hoping it wouldn’t come across as an attack on stay at home mom’s.  i wanted it to be envious at best, because that was what i was feeling, with a weird side of tired annoyance sneaking in.

i almost took the post down the next morning because i thought it was outside of my usual nature, but then i realized that it is because of this that i should post it. i agree with what jennifer said about being tired of the “perfect blogs” where everything is always just so, like the pages of a Martha Stewart magazine.  those blogs serve their purposes and there are sometimes that I like to peruse them, but cannot do it on a daily basis.  this blog is MY life documented,  so it will of course have beautiful moments and moments of frustration.  love/hate/love.  such is this beautiful life.  

but it is nice to know that everyone has bad days.  that everyone has spills on their floors and children tearing their hair out and long, lonely days whether you are mother or not, working, WAH, SAH, single or parenting with a partner.  In the end it was nice to read what all of you wrote and it left me feeling definitely not alone.  

there is always in every minute of every day, someone having a more difficult time and someone having a less difficult time.  i am just thankful that i have come to have two things:  1. the ability to accept negative feelings, roll with them, and move on and 2.  a great tribe of people who listen to me whine, hold me up and keep me going.

on yoga (again).

 

it’s been far too long since i’ve had a regular yoga practice.  last night there was no more pushing it off there was just simply, get down on the floor.  i didn’t even bother to go back upstairs and get my mat, i just started right there on the hardwood floor in the living room.  i was just out of a hot bath.  i had Peter Davidson playing on the computer and i had all the lights out except one dim one in the kitchen.

yoga for me is really a mind, body and spirit exercise.  there is no better way to get present with yourself.  i cannot do my yoga practice with the kids in the house.  there is too much distraction.  i need the dim and the quiet to get to this place.  i took yoga classes and i enjoyed them.  i liked the camraderie.  i liked having someplace to go once a week at 6:00 pm after work to throw my legs up on the wall, work my body, learn and then relax into what i can only call the true bliss of savasana.

but here at home, in daily practice, in the dark quiet moments everything else goes away.  it’s just me and my body and my breath.  the thoughts and the questions and the worries dissapate as my focus switches to my breath, and the way i feel my body stretching itself.  the reminder to stop and drop my shoulders, to push a little more or less.  the focus on remaining in pose and then sinking into the next.  there is a peace there.  in that present moment when the balance is a work in commitment, when you feel your arms or legs reaching into infinity, when you realize, hey, i’m alive, and then when you rest and relax, feeling soothed by yourself, by the energy inside you, by the world around you.   yoga practice puts me in a protective bubble where no one or no thing can touch me.

i know that this is not what yoga is to everyone.  i realize we all have different reasons and different expectations when going into it.  for some it is a spiritual practice, for others it is just exercise.  for me it is a bit of both.  i feel connected to myself and the world around me when i practice  and i am a better person for it.

i  sometimes wish everyone could experience this and i think how i would explain to them this feeling, but i cannot.  it’s not describable to me, though i keep trying.  one day i might get it down in words but for now i’m just going to keep sticking to my practice.

hating the house moms.

**disclaimer, after I wrote this post I took a hot bath and did a 30-minute yoga practice that inspired me to write a much more positive post.  I almost considered deleting this one, but decided it was a part of me, so look for the uplifting yoga post this weekend.

 

Not really.  I’m serious, I’m not a hater.  Okay, maybe just a little bit.  It’s nothing personal, trust me.  It’s not specifically  you that I dislike.  It’s not your hair or your personality, or your habits.  It’s just that you are there and I bet you are there with the kids.  And I bet you are not trying to cram bills and laundry and housecleaning and homework and dinner planning and photography and blogposts and a fifteen minute hot bath into one night or one weekend.

And I bet you would die to get out of the house right now.  Perhaps one of your little ones has been sick for four days and you would give anything just to run away and go to the grocery store, alone.  Or maybe your thinking, she has no idea,  she gets to have adult conversations, no one screaming “mama”  four hundred times a day.  I bet she actually gets to read on her lunch hour.  AND then she gets a paycheck.  Every two weeks.

It’s been a rough week.  Again, it seems.  Every week is hard and no amount of planning or organization can defeat the frustration or the tiredness.  No one said motherhood was easy.  No one said balancing work and home life would be easy and NO ONE said  running a house and a family alone would be easy.  I love Karelyn so very much more than life itself, but if someone would have made me pause and say “wait, before you add a second child to your almost two year old, you need to know you’ll be doing this alone in about four years”,  I might have rethought my position. (if you know me at all, you’ll say “she’s just tired” and know that I would not).

I know staying at home with your kids can be tough, but right now, I cannot help but think if I just had one month to  focus on house and home, my family and my art, goodness what could I accomplish?  What would my house look like?  What would I actually be able to remember on a day to day basis versus the flying in ten directions and saying a prayer we are remembering everything.  And this is with paper calendars and multitudes of lists and appointments scheduled in my cell phone.

Today, I had to have multiple reminders and I practically forgot one important thing.  I actually DID forget to reschedule Emily’s dentist appointment, but that wasn’t the important thing, that would be almost forgetting to call home and find out which house the girls would be at this afternoon when their grandmother on their father’s side picked them up tonight.  

Then there was the fundraiser.  I had to pick up the school fundraiser.  The only notification came as a recorded message last night.  Good thing I got the message, because as the fundraiser is frozen food, if it was not picked up by between 4pm and 6pm tonight then it was to be donated.  Are you serious?  This is the forgetful woman’s nightmare.  So I had it written on my calendar, my friend at work wrote it on a post it note and paperclipped it to my bag.  Then I scheduled it on my cell phone and let it beep to remind me every five minutes between the time we closed at work and the time I pulled into the school parking lot.

I planned on working out tonight (hahahahahahahha).  I just want to go curl up under a blanket and eat chocolate chip cookies.  I hid all my dirty pots and pans in the dishwasher and they might stay there until Friday night when this work week is over.   I’m going to ignore the cat litter box and the unswept floor and the hidden dishes and the broken closet door and go climb in a hot bath for a bit.

So I’m sorry.   To the class mother who knows every child in my daughter’s class who I never even knew your daughter was my daughter’s best friend when I met you at variety show tryouts.

I’m sorry, mother who is scrapbooking every moment of her child’s upbringing and creating cute slideshows to music.

I’m sorry, mother with the ability to actually carry a camera and complete a 365 project.

I’m sorry, mother about ready to publish your first book, that you worked diligently on while the children were at school or napping.

I’m sorry, mother who is posting daily Flickr photos of her everyday life full of cups of tea, or pretty flowers arranged neatly on a table or of kids eating homemade, nutritious lunches or creating amazing crafty projects from ordinary household items.

I don’t really hate you.  I’m just tired, and cold, and bitchy and lastly I’m just jealous.

How did you end up with my life?

Sometimes the one I ended up with seems ridiculously hard.