The Hot Cocoa Incident of 2012

A friend passed down this camo outfit.  It finally fits!

Last night, Z wanted to go outside as the sun was setting, right as dinnertime was approaching, and Daddy was about to be home.  I suggested that we eat dinner, and go have a special hot cocoa night outside.  We could run around and play during the super cold dark night.  Sounds awesome, right?

He was stoked!

Dad came home, "Dad!!  It's Daddy-dude night and we're going to have hot cocoa outside!!!!"

These are the things we remember as children, the special things we do together as a family.

We ate dinner then I got our clothes ready.  Of course, even though he wanted to go out, didn't want to get dressed.  I reminded him a few times as I warmed the milk, and finally he was dressed.  Yes!

He asked which cup was his.  I asked which one he wanted.  I smiled and pointed, "That's your cup."

Our special Christmas hot cocoa mugs

The curious four-year old that he is, of course he grabbed it to look at it.  I wasn't looking, and hot cocoa went everywhere.  I guess I forgot to tell him his cup was full of cocoa.  Oops.  It splashed from his face, to his toes, into a puddle at his feet, down the counter, on the counter, and hit every dish on the way down.  Thankfully, it wasn't super hot.

He was devastated.  He was covered in cocoa, and of course thought he had lost all his cocoa to top that off.  Immediately, tears welled in his eyes, and I just saw the sadness.  I could feel my heart ache for him.  "My cocoa!!!  Now I don't have any more cocoa!!!  And it's all over me.  Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!"

I got down to him, "It's okay.  It's just an accident."  (A really sucky, super messy accident, but an accident)  "Take your shirt off.  Go get a new one.  I'll clean this up.  It's okay."  I smiled.  Tears continued to well up, and it just broke my heart.  He took a deep breath.

Daddy came in and witnessed the mess.  I could see the frustration.  I explained that it was an accident. He didn't want to go outside, "He doesn't even seem to want to go out.  Why are you pushing this?"

I knew he was tired and wanted to chill.  Deep breath.

"Because, he does want to go outside.  He just waiting on me to get the cocoa made, and get us ready, and then we'll go out."

He walked off to help Z find his coat, shaking his head and mumbling.  I just took a deep breath, and cleaned the mess, and it was a mess.

But that's what I do.  Mama Been: mess cleaner.

It was dang near Bodhi's bedtime by now, but he was feeling the energy and excited.

Finally, the cocoa was finished!

I snagged my coat, got Bodhi's on and we headed out.

They dashed out the door, ready to play under the stars on the wintery night.  I thought, "Bodhi doesn't even remember cold like this.  Damn, it's cold."

Bodhi was excited and ran for the bikes.  Z, my little dude with a sweet tooth, sat down for cocoa.

Itty bitty marshmallows.

Pretty tasty!

They were adorable, so bundled up, and so excited.  I took a few pictures.  I said to Daddy, "Keep an eye on Bodhi."  I went to snap a picture and BAM, Bodhi grabbed the hot cocoa and spilled it.

Both boys cried.

The crying stopped when Z realized it wasn't his cocoa, and Bodhi realized it wasn't really that scary.  Whew!  Thankfully only his hand and a small spot on his pants was wet.

It was my cocoa, of course.  That's fine.

Dad was done.  "I'm going inside."

We chalked it up to just a crazy night, and ran to swing under the stars.

We drank cocoa in the tiny house, climbed the playscape, slid a few times, went to swing on the big swing together, all cuddled and bundled up, and by then sweet Bodhi was super tired, and hands and face were so cold.

It's a funny thing about little people.  They strip their gloves, and hat, and feel the cold.  It's so new to them, even if it's a little uncomfortable, they appreciate the novelty of it.  I love seeing the world through their eyes, with their great appreciation for such small things.

We called it a night, and with the promise of heading out again in the morning, dawdled all the way to the door.

I could see the tired smile on the boys faces, and it brought a smile to my face.  We peeled off the layers, and headed up to get ready for bed.  Bodhi fell asleep first, then I headed in to read with Z.

He fell asleep a happy boy.

I've never been a fan of cold, but when there are two small boys reveling in it's joy and mystery, it makes me love it.  There are so many things I didn't appreciate, and overlooked, and made up opinions about, without ever feeling it, before I had children.

I love these boys.

They open my heart, and open my eyes, and see everything as special and something to appreciate, especially the simple stuff, and even when everything is covered in sticky hot cocoa.

Helping brother with his hat

Four -The Birth Story

Next Sunday I will be the mama of a four year old.

What an amazing journey this boy and I have had for four revolutions around the sun.

It's a time where I reflect deeply on how much has changed and how much change there is to come for that beautiful boy, and myself.

Last night he asked me to tell him the story of his birth.

This has made me quite uncomfortable in the past, because my the births of both of my boys surrounds me with both love and darkness.  They were both caesarean sections.  I induced with Z, at almost two weeks past due, out of fear, and not having as big of a support system that I do now.  I didn't know then what I know now.

So instead of let this be something to tie my stomach in knots and place a lump in my throat I dove in head first, lighter than ever.

"Well, you stayed in my womb for a long time!  You must have been pretty comfy because you didn't want to come out!  (He laughs, that big belly laugh of a four year old)  So I asked the doctor about you and he said maybe we should try and get that boy to come out!  (He laughs more)  So they gave me some special medicine one night, and you sure must have thought it was more comfortable in there, because at first you just stayed put.  Then you wiggled, and twisted, and pushed, trying to come out, and my body tried hard to help you come out, and the doctor tried hard to help you come out.  But you were just too comfy I guess!  So the doctor said, "Mama, are you ready to hold your boy?" and I told that doctor, "YES, I am ready to hug my boy."  So he had to give me a little cut on my belly here (I show him my scar), and helped pull you out into the world.  We were so happy to see you we just cried, and cried, and everybody was there to meet you -Grandma, Grandpa, your uncles, and aunts, and cousins, friends, everybody!  You are the most beautiful special thing that ever happened to me, and I love you with my whole heart.  Then Daddy helped weigh you and measure you, and they brought you back to me and you nursed and nursed and nursed, and I never wanted to put you down.  Everyone asked me, "Mama, are you ever going to put that boy down?" and I'd answer, "Nope.  I love him.  And our hearts belong together."  And that's how our story began."

It was the first time I had ever told him our story without tears of sadness, guilt, or shame.  There's obviously a lot more to it.  I had a horrible, gut wrenching, scary induction, and caesarean.  But that's not important anymore.  I don't need to re-live the trauma.  I've done that too many times to count.  He doesn't need to hear that, especially at four years old.

There sure can be a lot of those emotions around non-natural births, and as one beautiful soul said, the "dogma around natural birth".  I am blessed because here at home, and through Momma Zen, in the Autumn SouLodge, I have met a group of beautiful supportive, unconditionally loving, amazing, mamas and women that know how to make a sister feel loved and whole.  I have finally, in the last year, sought out more and more support from friends, mamas, and communities of Soul Sisters.  I have told my husband how I feel, really feel, and he is beginning to get it.

I have met so many beautiful mamas with opposite experiences from mine, and some of the guilt, shame and sadness crept in, some told and some untold.  I've also met a lot of mamas, in real life, and some online in groups, that made me feel that their way of giving birth was superior.  But really, it's not.  We mamas have to stick together and be there for one another, support one another, and share stories, and experiences, no matter what they are.

Then I finally built myself up to it, and watched The Business of Being Born about a month ago.  Something shifted, and I cried and cried and sobbed like I can't remember.  I thought, "Why didn't I see this five years ago?"  But then it hit me over and over, and I realized, that I can't change my past, I don't need to change, or make my story better or worse than it is, it is my story, in my voice.  I didn't write it all, it wrote itself in a way, and that's fine.

I have put a lot of thought into it all.  I feel like I am in the final throws of letting go of the negativity.  I am sick of judging my story as bad.

My boy is about to be four.  That's a lot of time to carry around such unnecessary harmful judgements that serve nothing and no one.  I will deal with the feelings as they arise.

If you met us you would have no idea that I had such emotion surrounding our birth story.  Truth be told, the moment I held him, my world shifted in a way that is nearly unexplainable.  I fell so deeply in love, like never before, and none of it mattered until some moments where I sat alone and over-thought the tragedy around inductions and caesarean sections, and not having the birth I had dearly wanted.  We are deeply close and attached to one another, in such a special bond, and isn't that all that matters?

My boys are happy and healthy, and so am I.  This story can make me stronger, not weaker, I just have to let go of some of my ideas.  Not feed the negativity, but not ignore it, and in time it weakens and subsides.

Something has also been shifting in me in the last months.  Between Bodhi's first birthday in July and Z's fourth birthday, which is a month before mine, I feel that I am coming to see things for what they are, more than what I make them to be.  I am paying attention to my heart and intuition more than ever, and more than that, being okay with it and trusting it.  I am learning to follow that which matters, and let things that no longer help or serve me fall away.  Layers are shedding, shadows are being explored, with less judgement, and I am opening up further.  I am holding fear's hand, treating it tenderly with love, instead of letting it lead and break me down.  And it feels good to have a community and a practice, which supports not only the light but the dark.

It feels beautiful to be a woman and a mother.  More now than ever before.

I have also realized that I don't have to feel guilty about staying at home.  Like I need to be doing something more. -these unfortunate feelings creep in from time to time.  I'm learning to tell it like it is.

I am thinking about how things happen in time, in my own pace, and how I can't push the river.  I am not behind on  my path.  I am on my path.  I don't have a lot of time for my own work and creative journey, but little by little I am exploring it more.  An hour here, 15 minutes there.  Sometimes I just have to ask for space, and not feel guilty!

The wheels are cranking in my own creative work, thanks to my Creative Courage course, Ordinary Writing Prompts, and of course SouLodge, among other amazing people in my life that are following their hearts and living their dreams.  I am blessed to be right here, right now, at this time in my life.

I took these courses, and tasks on, to remind myself that it's okay to think about what I want to do in life, even if I don't have time to focus on anything for myself too hard or long right now.  I am learning some new tools on how to ask the right questions, and explore things deeper.  I am learning how to make the most of my space and time, and not just spin my wheels, and procrastinate, some days doing what I feel is a waste of my time -worrying and thinking without action.  It's also when I know that I need to sit on the cushion more!  Sometimes I need a little structure to guide my tired mama brain, without making me feel overwhelmed.

I also just read these beautiful words and feel that they are perfectly fitting.  Thank you, Stacy at Clover and Sage.  Yesyesyes!:

Vision (soil prep|seed planting) 
+ Action (cultivating|nurturing|weed pulling)
+ Trust (Harvest|Gathering|Bounty) 
= Living your vision (restoration|nourishing|reflection)

So this was a lot, a lot to set free, out of my mind, and into space.  Kind of a double birth story.  The one of my sweet boy, and the one of a mama coming into herself.

I am eternally grateful for my path.  As long and hard as it is.  Because it has made one strong mama with a ton of love in her heart.

I am grateful for my support, and my two little teachers.

xoxo

It's Always Darkest Before Dawn

It's always darkest before dawn.

I don't remember what quite set it off, but I've a had a disheartening and hard month or more.  I dug a hole, fell into it, and had a hard time climbing out.  I know that when this happens, it's up to me to figure the way out myself.  My meditation practice and my children help me to see what's really important, but sometimes it's hard to act when you feel a bit paralyzed.

It's the culmination of many events that transpired with family after my Grandmother passed last January.  There seemed to be too many unresolved issues that I couldn't let go of.  I believe in moving forward not living for yesterday, but sometimes that's hard to do, especially when others choose not to.

When the big stuff goes unresolved, the little stuff starts to effect me, and can bring some more big stuff with it.  Then the domino effect begins and it rolls down to my children, family, those I love, and everyone around me.  Like a friend says, "When Mama ain't happy, no ones happy."  It's not a selfish statement, it's because every Mama is one of the most important parts of a child's life.  It's our job to be strong, or know when we're weak, and pick ourselves up, and ask for help if we need it.

Someone that I love has had a very hard time moving forward and something very unfortunate happened to him.  I chose to help instead of throw my hands up.  It was a hard decision, because it wasn't just a little help.  That choice made someone even closer to me say some very cruel things because they weren't happy with their life and their choices.  Many things said were untrue and borderline insane so I tried to let it go.  I couldn't.  It's hard to let things go when others are hurting and they try to hurt you.  Bitter resentment will eat you up if you let it.  I have learned to live with and understand many of my resentments, so when I see others stewing in despair, it hurts.

I chose to take a stand and do what was right.  My relationships are my business.  If someone doesn't like them then that is their problem not mine.  I don't have to discuss anything you don't want to hear and you don't have to ask.  Seems simple to me, but we are human.  One thing that I know is that you can't tell anyone what to do, they have to decide for themselves.

Then, last week, my littlest one came down with a virus and we had four sad question-filled days with fever.  It was like a mediation retreat, doing nothing but loving and cuddling my tiny boy, sending him love and trying to send myself some kind and gentle love.  Thank goodness Grandma was off to play with Z, while I nursed Bodhi for days.

Everything hit me.  I was deeply questioning every choice I made.  Was I really being a good mother?  Good wife?  Good daughter?  Good friend?  Kind?  Gentle?  Loving?  Forgiving?  What have I done wrong?  Am I doing anything right?  How come everyone else seems to have their shit together?  Everyone does so many different things.  Some people can take care of their family and find time to do what they love, and sometimes make a living doing it.  Do I need to find my niche in life besides being a mother right now?

That last one hit me harder than I expected.  It had been in the back of my mind for a few months now.

Right before all the questioning, I had began reading some things that helped me in my journey.  Things that were deep in my heart but had to be pulled to the surface, and put right in front of my face.  

There was this.  It helped me take a step back and see things from a distance.  It gave me the perspective of time and space.  It was a little lightbulb above my head.  "Step back."  Look at it from the other's perspective, from the whole room's perspective, from my city, from my state, all the way to the end of the universe.  What was going on was not grand on the whole scale of sadness.  It was, in the words of Lemony Snicket, a series of unfortunate events.  It allowed me to see things in real time.  Was most of the stuff that was bothering me going to matter in five minutes?  An hour?  Next week?  Next year?  Ten years?  No?  What the hell am I grasping this hot cole for?  Feel that tension, don't speak, don't act, move forward gently, as gently as possible.  Send out love, not hate.  Don't be a part of the problem, be a part of the solution.

Then I read this.  There's always more rope at the end.  There's always a new day.  There's always a beginning.  Seemingly infinite times a day we can choose to begin again.  I even started taking Z back to bed and symbolically saying, "Let's start over.  Let's begin again.  I'm sorry."  When we both acted out.  It worked.  Then a whole new day came and it was my clear slate.

This really helped to solidify it.  Wow.  Most of the stuff won't matter in 5 minutes, definitely not in a hundred years.  It's a blink in the universe, and most won't matter, but love will.  I don't have to act on every frustration or problem that comes my way.  Most stuff resolves itself if I wait patiently.  As a bonus, there's always a new day or moment when I screw up, or choose to see the shadows instead of the sunshine.

The sun is always there.  It will always rise.

How I choose to live this moment matters, it can effect generations to come.  So love love love.  Then love some more.  Forgive yourself.  Forgive others.  "Be here now."

I was feeling good.  It was all coming to a head.  I removed myself from feeling responsible for other's pain and took responsibility for my own.  I will always be here to love when they are ready.  I will always be open and forgiving.  And believe me, you don't know the half, a fraction of what I've forgiven.  It's not that it doesn't hurt, but all I can do is be me, and be ready and accepting.

Then I woke up one day and saw this, thanks to her.:

It was as if the sun within me was beginning to shine again.  The clouds were lifting.  

I suddenly didn't feel so lost.  I suddenly felt OK with my place and my relationships.  More OK than I had in a long long time.  I am doing what I am supposed to be doing.  I know when it's time for something new.  I always know when I pay attention.  I can't push the river.  

A new day has dawned.  

No one but me could work through it.  I asked for help when I needed it.  Some came directly, some from afar, and some I just found out of the great big blue.

But it came.  

Just in time.

And now I can breathe a little easier.

Thank you, to those that loved and helped.  Even if it was just existing in my presence -that's pretty important in my book.

**********************************

I read these very powerful words just after writing this:

The warrior is never caught in the trap of doubt. The fundamental doubt is doubting yourself. This doubt can manifest as anxiety, jealousy, or arrogance. In its extreme form, you slander others because you doubt your own confidence. The warrior of perky, symbolized by the snow lion, rests in a state of trust that is based on modesty and mindfulness. Confident within him- or herself, therefore, this warrior has no doubt. He or she is always aware and is never confused about what to accept or reject.

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, The Sacred Path of the Warrior

(This is book I read and re-read over and over, and highly recommend it.)