Wrap your joy...

Yesterday morning, amidst the wrapping and unwrapping of presents, a family friend and neighbor in Albuquerque stopped by my in-laws house where we are staying. He has been reading my blog and offered up a beautifully poetic compliment: "You wrap your joy around your reality."

I reflected on these words during my run this morning. With each stride I felt more thankful and blessed for his kind statement. His words were incredibly supportive and perfectly fitting. What more can I do in this life than strive to wrap reality with my joy.

Life is hard, there is no use in denying it. So is running. But both can bring us so much joy if we allow it to seep into our lives. Some days are harder than others. Christmas time and the final week of the year can bite us harder than other days. These days are spent reflecting on the year behind us, analyzing our successes and failures, our growths and setbacks, measuring what we have learned and what we wish to forget, recalling our regrets and our blessings and planning how we will do it all again in the year ahead. Each new year provides us with a fresh start, a feeling of carpe diem.

Adara and Gpa walking to feed the ducks at UNM. Christmas Eve 2013.

I am a strong believer that our thoughts create our destiny. We can choose to dwell on the negative and the challenges that make up our life, or we can choose joy. As this neighbor pointed out, I choose joy. We create our own joy. We can not always create our own reality. Post Christmas-morning bit harder than most, quite literally. Isaac is teething hard, woke every couple of hours whining last night and has begun a nasty habit of biting me while nursing. Biting so hard that I am left bloody, burning and in pain. This morning's 5:30am bite sent me back to bad in tears. As physically painful as the biting hurt, the emotional sting was worse. I can not help but feel that he is rejecting me. My Isaac, my last baby, is cutting this mother-babe-nursing relationship off and I am just not ready. I have been through this rejection before, it is nothing new to me, though the biting is new. Both my girls rejected my nourishment between 10-11 months. Still, it hurts every time. Just like the end to any relationship, it hurts being rejected, dumped, pushed aside. As my final nursing relationship, I had planned to extend this a bit longer, at least a few months. I planned to take some final pictures, savor the last feedings. Reality has hit, teeth marks have been made, blood has been shed and I must move on.

My Isaac love, still crawling and keeping his babyhood alive.

Letting go is hard. From experience, I know the hormonal shift my brain and body are about to experience. I know the side-effects. After months of oxytocin flooding my brain every couple of hours of every single day, while sitting on a rocker, cuddling my babe and holding him to my breast, I must let go. I must make this life-change positive. Wrap it with joy! And so I climbed out of bed shortly after 6 o'clock, swallowed my tears, drank a cup of some of the best coffee on this planet (roasted by my brother-in-law/coffee roaster/buyer/expert), played with my kids and their new Christmas presents, put Isaac down for a nap and hit the road running. One hour later I was back home and at peace, ready to begin the weaning process and ready for my body and head to heal. Ready to wrap some joy around my reality. Life is hard but it can also be joyful. Wishing you all a holiday season full of love, laughter and joy!

Cesia enjoying a hot chocolate at Winning Coffee Shop,

home of coffee roaster extraordinaire, Matt Jacobsen.

Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Big sister savoring her hot cocoa at Winning.

After note: This past month has been especially busy for me, as for many of you I expect. December was focused much more on doing than reflecting for me and boy, have we done a lot. I have many posts to catch up on including: updates on half-marathon training, registering for the LA Marathon Relay as a Girls on the Run SoleMate, 2014 Marathon thoughts, our 2nd Annual Kid's North Pole Party where we hosted 18 toddlers who overflowed with joy, experienced our first family road trip to Albuquerque via Prescott where we stopped to meet new cousins and after 14 hours in the car together, grew even closer. I have lots of catching up to do, lots of plans for this blog in 2014 and lots of thanks to you -- all my readers. Please know that I am thankful for every one of you who have read my blog in 2013. I have big plans for the year ahead and look forward to sharing them with all of you soon! Thank you for sharing your time with me, for letting my thoughts seep into yours and for commenting and inspiring and motivating me. Wrap yourself with joy!

Mountains in the background and peaceful slumbers on the road.

 

And more peaceful slumbers.

 

Best part of the road trip: sitting next to this boy for 14 hours and watching him laugh, and sleep.

 

 

  

Cheers for relaxing final days of 2013!

Good Enough

Whatever happened to the "Good Enough Mother?" Though I often hear this term thrown around, I can not help but feel like no one really believes in it -- sometimes, myself included. Perhaps the problem lies inherently in the title "good enough." No one strives for mediocrity and who really wants to be called "good enough" at their job anyway? Or perhaps we just need a reminder. We are good enough.

The "Good Enough Mother" theory was proposed by Winnicot in 1952 and in doing so he raised up new mothers with the notion that mother knows best. Winnicot wrote that, "A good enough mother learns best how to look after her baby not from health professionals and self-help books but from having been a baby herself. She acts naturally." (Winnicott, 1988). Winnicott suggested that during pregnancy and the first few months postpartum, the mother undergoes a "state of heightened sensitivity." After those early months, the mother then experiences a "flight into sanity" where she begins to exist outside of her state of "primary maternal occupation" with her newborn. The "Good Enough Mother" then continues providing an environment which facilitates healthy maturational processes in her baby. She is the principal individual who protects, cares for and meets her baby's need for emotional attachment and love. Winnicot wrote that there are ".. very subtle things that the mother knows intuitively and without any intellectual appreciation of what is happening, and which she can only arrive at by being left alone and given full responsibility..." (Winnicott, 1988).

Though I constantly find myself striving to be more or the best (me), I do believe in Winnicot's theory of the "Good Enough Mother" and that as mothers, we are good enough. But then why do we often feel so inadequate? From the time Adara was a newborn and crying her lungs out in the aisles of Target, perfect strangers have approached to inform me that my baby was crying "because she is really cold" or "because she is hungry," or "because she is dressed much to warmly for this weather." Parents and grandparents and siblings and neighbors and even our own friends like to comment on our parenting. Everyone seems to know better than the mother. (Disclaimer: I am in no way pointing out anyone personally, and my own parents and in-laws are wonderful and supportive in every way. Thank you, because Lord knows I'm not a perfect mother, but I do believe I am good enough.)

In the community in which I am blessed to live, I find myself constantly surrounded by the most amazing of mothers. Mothers who lead weekly music lessons in their home, who spend hours everyday with their kids exploring on the trails or with art, letting their kids get messy because they know the importance of that. Mothers who share their love of cooking with their children by making elaborate, healthy meals on a daily basis to be shared over a loving dinner table where they discuss their day and their favorite moments and what made them happy and building up their self-esteem along the way. Mothers who inspire and motivate me, who cheer me up and support me and love me.

Amongst such wonderful mothers, sometimes I just feel that there is so much to live up to. There is so much that I want to do and all at the same time. This takes me back to one of my very favorite quotes by Jack Kerouac, which I have shared on this blog previously, "The only ones for me are the mad ones, mad to live, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time..."

That quote sums up my December thus far. I am realizing that at this time of year, more than any other, I want more out of life. I want every moment to be magical. Christmas has always been the most wonderful time of the year, full of this unadulterated spirit, and I want it to be the same for my kids. So while I don't feel overwhelmed, necessarily, I do feel like I'm trying to jam everything in just so that nothing gets left out.

Monday morning I drank a cup of coffee, I don't typically drink anything stronger than Irish Breakfast Tea, and oh boy did it get me going. We made Snowman pancakes complete with eyes, clementine noses and arms, yogurt smiles and black fig top hats. Next we were off to school, where the heaters were broken and hardworking selfless teachers were literally running to get everything set up for their own busy day of Christmas crafts with the kids. Back home, baby nursed to sleep and ready to relax on the couch and possibly catch up on bills or other home chores, I impulsively decided to put all those tasks on the back burner and get some lentil soup simmering on the front to bring in to those very teachers. But then, something had to go with that lentil soup, of course, so why not cook up some homemade cornbread! Brilliant!

Adara's Snowman Pancake -- before he was devoured within seconds. Yes, that is a gingerbread man pancake in the bottom circle. Too much Christmas fun to be had and we wanted it all.

A mere thirty minutes later and Isaac was standing in his crib, ready to play. I love our house, but it is tiny and babies' ears are sensitive. I have tried hundreds of times over four years of naps now, but I just can't cook and have my kids sleep through it. Oh well, I knew that was a risk this morning and my spirit was in the giving-mood, so with Isaac slung onto my left hip, we finished cooking that French lentil soup and homemade cornbread and loaded into the car once more to drop it off. While we're at it, why don't I pop in each of the girls' classes and read a Christmas story? I thought. Thirty minutes and two readings of "The Polar Express" later (hardcover version from one magical Christmas when I was about 7 years old), we were back in the car and headed home so the starving baby could eat some lunch. Lunch consumed and cleaned, I loaded baby boy into the triple stroller to pick up his sisters from school. I couldn't help but laugh that Isaac must think I'm a madwoman, with all this running around (quite literally). Yes, I am good at laughing at myself. : )

Last night, I was no better. Alan is out of town, the kids were all asleep by 7:30pm and I was left with a headache from forgetting to drink water all afternoon. Oops! Mental reminder #107: Take care of yourself. I was about to pass out on the couch when I discovered some cute Christmas bento box lunch ideas online. Fast forward two hours and I am in the kitchen, prepping up the girls' lunches with cute little gingerbread man cheese cut-outs and Snowmen fruit kebabs. (And Yes, these then fell on the sandy floor of our minivan this morning right as we were unloading and Cesia decided to open up her lunchbox to see what I had packed her. And Yes, I nearly cried before spending the next 10 minutes washing every cutie and cheese slice and other semi-salvageable item in the school sink to rid them of sand.) Two newly created word documents contained the cutest of cutest Christmas food ideas for our annual North Pole Party coming up next week. Two additional pages contained holiday crafts, homemade play dough recipes, and lots of home-learning fun ideas. It was past 11pm before I made myself retire for the night.

I awoke this morning with a long mental to-do list and even considered getting started at it after Isaac's 4am milk break. "Perhaps I should start waking up at this time everyday just to get stuff done," I seriously thought to myself. Alas, Cesia came rushing down the hall for a bathroom break and after some canoodling, finally cuddled up in bed with me and we were both back to sleep until Adara found us at 7am. Thank you, 2-and-a-half year old for giving me some sanity and luring me back to bed at 4am.

My sleeping angel - from an afternoon nap via run this week.

By the time 7am came around, my to-do list had somehow grown since 4 o'clock. It is already mid-December and there is just so much fun to be had. How do you fit in everything? How do you feel "Good Enough" or do you? How do you keep from feeling inadequate? Do you wrestle with the compulsion to be and do so much more? Do you feel guilty when you don't make homemade playdough or don't have a home cooked meal on the table each night for dinner? I know it sounds ridiculous, but these are the things I find myself worrying about at 4am.

Lately I feel as if I am in this place where I want to spend every second teaching my kids, through cooking, making crafts, exploring trails, running, dancing, yoga class, gymnastics class yet still saving time for naps and free play and nightly relaxing family dinners and long baths and storytime. Am I still a "Good Enough Mother" if I don't make homemade playdough? If I serve frozen pizza for dinner? If I don't do every craft in my 2-page document? I am meeting their needs, I am providing attachment and love. And you know what, they go crazy for store-bought playdough. Go figure! Sometimes we just need a reminder that we are the "Good Enough Mother" and that in and of itself is enough. Just look in your babies eyes and you will know it.

Does this baby look like he's attached and loved.
You betcha!