The days are long, but the years are short.

It's Mothers' Day.  Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how fast it all happens.  My kids are so big now.  This picture was taken almost seven years ago, and it feels like about five minutes instead.  There's a quote that absolutely nails it:  "The days are long, but the years are short."

I remember the day in the picture.  We were at a park.  It was a new-to-them-park that we visited with my cousin Nicky and her son Wyatt.  The kids loved all the climbing and sliding and swinging stuff that they'd never been on before.  They were very busy with all the fun, and I did a lot of swing pushing and standing below with my arms up to catch anyone who was about to fall from the climbing stuff.  (No one fell.)  The popsicles melted immediately.  The kids were so messy, and they loved how messy they were.  Nicky and I got to talk while the other three ran around.  They were filthy with good dirt and tired on the ride home.  I remember it as a really good day.

Now, they are big.  Delaney is just beginning to babysit other people's little kids.  She keeps talking about high school being less than two years away for her.  Aidan is a big kid.  He doesn't sit outside the bathroom door anymore with his hand beneath it, fingers patiently tapping, waiting for me to come back out to read to him or to play or to make lunch.  (I so wish I'd taken a picture of that suntanned little boy hand with pudgy fingers peeping out from under the bathroom door.)

I wonder how my mom felt as my sister and I slowly/super fast grew up.  Did she watch herself get older?  Did she have tinge of freedom that comes with having kids who can do for themselves (complemented by the tinge of regret that hits me right after)?  That push and pull of motherhood is constant.  Sometimes it's quiet, but it's always there.  It's a day to remember and to feel gratitude.  It's a different Mothers' Day this year, one without my mom here on earth.  I will remember all the good things I learned from her about how to be a mom and how to enjoy the people we love.  Mothers' Day is bittersweet.  It helps us celebrate, but it is punctuated with loss too.

Toward the end of the long path

My mom's battle with dementia is almost over.  January 1 began with a trip to the ER and has sifted down to waiting for my mother to float away.  I feel relief, sadness, exhaustion, and feelings of being completely overwhelmed.

Here's what I do not feel:  regret.  For that, I am grateful.

Watching the dementia take hold of her all those years ago and having to force her to face it for the sake of her safety and others was hard.  In fact, the battles with her and some family members changed me forever.  My children's entire lives have been dotted with things I wish they hadn't had to experience as I brought them with me to check in and to rescue with stealth.  I'm no freaky hero, and I've made many mistakes along the way, but I can honestly say that I did everything I could do as I was living through the last eleven years to help my mother to be safe, to feel loved, to not be left behind.  That while raising with my husband two empathetic, intelligent, soulful children.

That is why there's no regret.  My heart is ready to let her go on to the next phase of her being, to leave behind the body and mind that must have so frustrated her.  Now though, her room is filled with peace that is so tangible that I know she's not alone.  I believe that someone is waiting for her just beyond a filmy curtain and that she will be ok.  Finally.

We will never be the same.  That is a fact.  I must believe that, while I cannot think of an ounce of good this disease did for my mother, it maybe gave my children and my husband and I a little more faith in the higher power, more patience, a greater sense of taking care of family, and the knowledge that being sad together is better than being happy alone.

Baby Steps

There have been some delays due to the season......As you can see, I had a very important letter to attend to, and there was some shopping, etc. 

But.....

I've been making big progress on my new venture after feeling stalled for a little while. Then, all of a sudden, it started rolling again. I find it fascinating how that works. 

I'm getting ready to send my materials out to schools.  I finished this week. When I read it again today, I felt tingly. So exciting. And scary. 

What's the saying?  "If it doesn't scare you at least a little bit, it might not be worth doing."  Or did I just make that up?  😉

Paris: Did it really even happen?

Our trip to Paris seems like a lovely dream.  It was the best kind of lovely dream, because it really happened!

We were able to view places from perspectives from which we'd never imagined.

 atop la Tour Eiffel

 outside the bell tower of La Notre Dame

eye to eye with the bored gargoyle

 toward the setting sun from La Notre Dame

We soaked in history of many forms:  artistic, literary, national, international, and what will become our own.

 a lovely tart and coffee at Les Deux Magots, one of Ernest Hemingway's beloved cafes to frequent. (and we got the last table, which was a small victory for a tourist at such an important cafe!)

The best thing that happened to me in Paris is that it settled into my soul.  It will always be a part of me now.  It lives in my history and, I hope, again in my future. 

Paris: Je t'aime!

We arrived home from our trip to Paris on Friday afternoon.  Yes, that Friday.  Upon arrival, our phones blew up with concerned texts from friends and family.  Our newly beloved Paris was under attack as we headed home from her.  As a matter of fact, we had spent the previous day wandering the neighborhood near Bataclan, the concert venue of the attacks.  We'd gone to see an exhibit at a tiny gallery in the area.  Having just been there makes the attacks more closely felt and more heartbreaking to Rob and to me.

Our trip was simply blissful.  The hotel room was tiny and romantic and the building itself elegant.  There was barely room in it to do a decent yoga practice (but I worked it out); the view was a lovely flower-boxed building across the street from us, and we listened to French voices wafting through our balcony window as we drifted to sleep each night.  My French was adequate, which was exciting.  

According to my Fitbit, we logged between 20,00 and 33,000 steps a day to all the must-see sites, along with many neighborhoods were we found ourselves lost without caring.  The steps (and a solo early morning run along the Seine) offset the macarons (Laduree.....yum!), red wine, croissants at each breakfast, hot milk in my coffee, and simply-fresh-delicious french food at every meal. There might have been a Nutella crepe that happened too.  Not a pound gained during a week of less organized exercise and more foot intake.....that is reason to celebrate.  

All in all, this trip was what it was meant to be:  An adventure that was lovely, restful, and a great getaway for two marrieds with kids, etc.  More details later as we complete our re-entry....which takes awhile.....BUT, the kids survived (and missed us as much as we missed them: a lot); the house was clean; the laundry was done; the dog remembered us.  Not so shabby!

Good to be home!

Living in the Leap

 My mom used to use that phrase:  Live in the Leap.  It's good advice.  It means to live in the moment and to take some risks.  I like that it's "leap" instead of "jump."  Leap sounds joyful and sort of carefree.  So, I strive to live by these words.  When my two kids were very young, living in the leap maybe wasn't a good idea for me.  I played it safe.  I was practical.  I stressed - a lot - about sleep schedules, breastfeeding vs. bottle, choosing a daycare and then a preschool.....and a multitude of other things.  Always a "worrier," this way of life stuck to me like glue.  I kind of liked it.  I had my ducks in a row, and I had my lists in order.  All seemed well.

Or did it?  The kids kept growing, as they do, but I was still stressing.  By now, my mom's early onset dementia demanded that I move her to an assisted living community near me so that I could help care for her.  That gave me another whole level of stressing and list making.  I worried about spreading myself too thin.  About not having enough time for my mom, who was floundering with horrible anxiety related to the dementia.  I worried that I was dividing myself too thinly and that my kids were suffering.  I was looking for reasons to argue with my husband, who was dealing with his own personal issues at the time too.  This scenario went on for over six years.  Constantly.  There was no winning, and I was a ball of knots.  My family, friends, co-workers said how strong I was.  How good I was at juggling it all and how well I was taking care of my mom while being such a good mom myself.  I was a total fraud and a pretender.

The other part of my story is that once upon a time, before we moved and my younger child was born and before my mom got sick, I was a teacher and then a curriculum coordinator.  Sadly, I did not love my career.  It was ok, but I wanted to feel more passion in my work life.  I stopped working full time when my husband's job moved us and all the other stuff listed above happened.  I was more than ok with it, but I felt a definite absence of SELF and of PURPOSE.  I was told that raising my kids was a full time job and that should be enough by more than one person (shocking in this day and age, right?).

Then what do you think happened?  I got so close to the edge that I really thought I was going to lose it.  And it scared the hell out of me.  I knew I needed to make a drastic change in my life, because I wanted to be the mother that my children deserved, the wife my husband needed, and a person who I actually liked myself.  I searched for what could fix me.  I breathed, and I tried to learn how to sit still and to be still.

I went back to the mat, where I'd always dabbled, but this was different.  This time, it was for my mind instead of for balancing my runner's knee and leg ailments.  I started reading about Yoga, it's origins, it's transformations, it's power.  I have grown in my practice, but more than that, I've healed as a person.  I could almost cry just typing those words.

Finally, I'm in a good place.  My family life is happy.  I am able to enjoy my children.  My children have a mom who is calmer and happy.  My mom is in a new home where she is safe and kept more contentedly busy, so that my visit is a bonus rather than a near daily must.  I'm substitute teaching and teaching knitting...and I love it...the flexibility and the work itself.  I've let go of people who are not good for me.  I can even sit in stillness once in awhile.

I feel this incredible freedom to figure out WHAT IS NEXT for me.  So, after lots of thought and journalling and discussion with my ever-supportive (and much healed) husband, I think I've finally figured it out.  I begin YTT in January.  My plan is to train teachers to use yoga in the classroom to aid student learning, relieve student anxiety and stress, and to help lesson behavior problems.  I will also offer Yoga for Teachers, as I know firsthand how stressful their job is and how much a calmer teacher can positively influence our children.  My hope is that I can build a business around yoga and teaching.  I'm excited and nervous to talk about it for fear of jinxing myself.  Isn't that silly?  To honor my wonderful, loving, and wise mother as she used to be, I must "Live in the Leap" and make this venture REAL by saying it out loud.  

xxoo

 

The person who taught me to Live in the Leap

Thinking Back: Washington D.C.

2015 has been a big travel year for us!  We have one more BIG adventure coming up in the way of travel too.  Rob and I are leaving for Paris next week for a long anticipated vacation for just the two of us.  Such a year of just going for it (which will leave us depleted of vacation funds for quite awhile, but that's ok).  Before we go, though, I feel like I need to pay homage to the other great trips of this year.

At the end of March, the kids and I drove my dad to Washington D.C. to celebrate his 70th birthday. Having one parent who has been unable to enjoy grandchildren and retirement taught me to not squander memory-making opportunities while they are available.  They just might be more fleeting than we realize.  It was a wonderful, exhausting, whirlwind of a time.

My children were able to experience Washington, D.C. for the first time with their grandfather, his first trip there also, and there were some very moving experiences.

Grateful for the experience and for Rob's generous heart for allowing us this adventure. even though he couldn't join us.  

Although, maybe Rob was just being the brilliant man that he is and saving his cross-country mini van experience for the next 1,000+ mile trip of the year.  Hmm.  I'd never thought of that until just now.  Anyway, moving on....