Dirty 30~ the job never ends

Dirty 30~ the job never ends

I have an uncanny gift of being ridiculously transparent and guarded at the same time. I protect things about my past while becoming strikingly vulnerable. It’s a delicate balance to shine only bright for you. I choose to be better for you every day. I judge you never.. I humble myself before you, daily, though it will be years yet before that is seen for what it is… for now I am the diligent and ever faithful to my personal growth and well-being.

One day, I hope when you read back over my work, you will see someone who was constantly searching, learning and trying new and scary things maybe but someone dedicated to finding what is true; a truth seeker- and thriving in that, just as I hope and dream for you to find your own rhythm in what you choose to do with your God-given talents. It is not always easy to step onto paths that are unknown, not completely tangible or to ask the questions that sound stupid in your head.. but I assure you, the empty-panic you feel in your head that tells you to smile through it, is a silly suggestion. Simply Fear igniting as an Enemy in your mind. Reject it. Your place is in asking questions, discovering your purpose and giving yourself to those passions. If you don’t know ask. If you don’t understand, ask again. If you can’t find the answer, search. If the people around you don’t know, start finding smarter people to hang out with – ask them! The quest for wisdom begins as a child..but just like adults can be silly, we can renew our minds to again be child-like in our search.. we can eagerly expect; we can remember what it is to believe in an unknown and unseen Love that only comes once a year to bestow gifts or inheritances or blessings, but we believe further  that we cannot know that Love or ever truly believe in it’s mythical properties.

Let me assure you now and forevermore; Love is magic. Wisdom is the Great Love of humanity to seek to understand Love, grow it and benefit mankind through understanding of law, nature, time and physics. These things are not easily understood in this world, but hold fast to what is true in your heart. You must learn to trust your instinct, your gumption, your gut more than anything else in the entire world… It is speaking to you, wonderful secrets of the universe, dreams and desires that You can achieve.. You can be anything if you determine yourself to seek it with all your heart. So you, must Seek knowledge and guard it in your heart, my Darling.

I have a story for you and it’s deeply personal. It reveals much about my faith and deep-rooted beliefs, built and tested carefully over nearly three decades. I was putting my youngest child away tonight for the 4th time. It had been a great day at the office. I was renewed and invigorated from my day at work and came home for the first time since I started, really hopeful, like there’s officially the first step in the plan.. I have a path I can see clearly in my mind now to achieve everything I need to become successful in everything I could ever hope to accomplish, and yet part of that victory comes with sacrifice. That sacrifice for me is time, and every dayit keeps stealing more. It’s difficult to admit how easy it is to say “I don’t have the gene” that misses my kids when I’m away working. I love what I do whether I am writing or working as an EA. I feel like what I do is important and I love that my nanny gets our life and our goals, is goal-oriented herself, and is so good, naturally, at everything I have ever struggled with as a “Mom”. It’s a relief to pass the baton so to speak on deciding on all the little monotonous details that I guess I should just know naturally, but have had to constantly work to educate myself and learn what was the best, most organic and healthy way to psycologically balance my children while raising them to be confident, independent-thinking, go-getting, fearless women. Now that I’m back at work, in something that’s renewing my mind daily, stimulating and growing my character while giving my natural talents a little air to wiggle around and stretch after being stuffed on the back shelf in my closet… I can say, that being relieved of the daily duties has allowed my joy to come back into being creative with them and trying new games versus being literally bored to death, alays busy but never feeling like my day was useful beyond having managed to get two children to still be breathing by 5pm when my husband would get home….

Lesson 1: #TheStruggleIsRealForSomeWomen

So as I was putting her away, My heart broke for her misery. She’s 15 months, the sweetest joy imaginable and has the most delightfully wicked giggle. For the last two and a half weeks I’ve been getting mixed reviews of betrayal and incadescent tears of relief that I am still her mama, breathing and alive. Tonight was the first night she ran to me, and grabbed my leg in a bear hug first. For parents out there, if you only have one child and your child was a leg hugger, you are damn lucky because my first child was not a leg hugger and I think it is just about the cutest damn thing in the world. I’ve learned not ALL babies do it. It’s really special; especially because they don’t just do it to anyone. It was rare and special.. we had a fun giggly night and then bedtime. As I was putting my eldest away, I heard the all-too-familiar noise of the “baby-gurgle-before-projective-vomit-cough-thing” and know exactly whats coming when that alarm goes off. Before I had quite known it, I had even grabbed her out of her crib before she managed to do any serious damage to the first set of sheets…. Three sets later, my luck may have diminshed. But that first was impressive!

Now….I HATE vomit. I hate few things in life… I did it with both of my pregnancies. The entire pregnancy. By did it, I mean throw up all day-every day. It’s called Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Yes, Kate Middleton had it.. I had it first. In fact 1 in 200 women have it, but not all carry it full term.. Just the “blessed few”.  I was one of those. In total, thats 18 months of vomiting every day all day long. Thats 14 months of IV Fluids to stay hydrated to keep my own liver and kidneys going and stop the cycle for a 12 hour break – if I was lucky. It was 78 weeks of my life that broke and rebuilt me everyday. It was hell on earth and that was only one of many trials by fire I’ve received in education.  If there was ever a time for prayer, You have no idea the organizations, people and teams of people praying for deliverence and yet it never did until it arrived in the form of the actual delivery. To trust God will not let you die as you commit to carry your kid full term sucks. I fully admit that with my first child, the burden and yolk was light. I lived each day determined for her life. I knew her name before she was born. Before the thought or idea had ever been implanted in my mind, before I was every aware of her conception~ her name, was written on my heart. I fancied it for a few years as part of an idea as a pseudonym but then when we couldn’t get pregnant – and then did – and we found out it was a girl, it was done. My second pregnancy was literally like begging for life each day. Not being able to see into the next hour let alone, tomorrow. The force of how hard my body would wrack and reject any and all forms of sustenance was excrutiating. I lived in constant pain and constant sickness. There were days I didn’t want to do it anymore. Moments of doubt where any reason at all that something was wrong would have convinced me it was best for me, finally a good enough reason for me to betray my soul and break my own word that I would never, ever terminate a pregnancy willingly. My mother had and the cost and weight of that decision was one I was made aware of from a young age. Too young as a matter of fact, but too late to change the impression.

Regardless, by now you should be aware, that from sights, smells, and my digestional track officially being heightened for potentially the rest of my life, I am very sensitive to smells, sights, sounds about food, playing with food… I’m pretty good about everything now; except vomit. I had the choice once to turn my then 2-year-old around and let her puke down ME or on our freshly washed duvet cover and then susbsequently leak through all our nice clean sheets. I had about 2 seconds of prime decision-time and and had her flipped to throw up on ME in one..knowing the amount of WORK it would’ve taken to clean THAT up and in Winter, you want your WARMEST sheets… so you protect them at all costs. Back then, that included barely making my two-year-old to the shower as I’m trying to comfort her, gagging and starting to throw up. Now, a full 4 years later after that, I can control the gag reflux – but 3 sets of sheets later is well-past my limit. Truly.

So. She’s asleep. My eldest is finally settled and asleep as well. I don’t know why, but having a six-year-old point out everything that’s happening, narrating, with a condescending tone of everything that’s happening and things we’re missing, things she could be using her own god-loving hands to help with – you kind of reach a boiling point. Even after being away from them all day, you don’t miss that. Ever. Especially coming off a great day – kind of anticliamtic.. THE HERO WON THE DAY... and then went home and cleaned up his kids vomit. YES REAL LIFE! But serously awful movie idea, right? So the kids are away and I’m reaching for the back left cheek for wisdom.. Good Ol’ Fashioned Praying over my kids to heal, protect and bless them. The 15 month-old does the deep contented-sigh, and moves her head to nestle into the hand that is gracefully sweeping her hair around her face and tracing her outline as I have since the hour she came out of my body. I lose myself in her little embrace. The tears pour out as I realize, That I’m not missing anything. I laugh and send up and praise God and thanks-a-lot as I realize that I am still getting the best and the worst parts of my kids day without all the frustration. I am still getting all these moments I thought I was missing out on and giving up in a way.. I’ve heard the argument that it’s easier for work-moms to leave their kids, When in fact, has been the very thing that I have allowed to squelch my own spirit these last 6 years. My loyalty to raise my kids and to give the best of myself to them has robbed me of giving the best of myself to everyone else around me. My joy in knowing their mind, anticipating their desires and helping to cultivate these two strong women has been the challenge of a lifetime for me and yet I took it willingly because you want to give your kids the best… I had a moment tonight, of realizing that my best is even better when it comes from this place of rejuvenation and purpose. When I don’t get lost in trying to psychologically evaluate them every second of every day to make sure I’ve crossed every parenting dot there was on the page, I have no energy left for anything. But letting go, giving up control.. surrendering that may be the best for them and is even better when they can be free.Tonight, for the first time, Ever, they disappeared from the parental view, without being “told” to go play, to go play by themselves – Together – and laughed out loud, giggling and squealing!! WHAT JOY IS THIS????????????????

Because of my past, I can see limitations that give me some of my greatest strengths & assets yet also play a part in becoming some of my biggest blindspots, personally.We learn people and know them so well inside and out, especially our own children, and set them in these boxes but when you remove the box, surrender the rest and trust that you are feeding them good, organic, healthy thoughts and ideas; bringing the best people to care and love them in your absence -that have all the youthful energy and then STILL have the energy to be silly, goof around.. check in for the day and have everyone happy?? It’s just too good to be true… Hence all the vomit.

Maybe it’s really about turning 30; maybe and hopefully its a new maturity, understanding and depth of some of the Mysterious Ways that are presented in our realms and forces, maybe it’s the timing or the lessons forged, but it’s a damn grateful reminder: I forget that I can surrender them.. That someone bigger than me has them.. and when I remember that, I come to a worshipful place.. this moment of awesome transcedence… I realized that they are better, because I am becoming better.. The same thing I see for them, all the potential that they can be, is finally beginning to bear fruit in me that I can see.. fruit that will yeild an abundance of harvest, if I can continue.. trust Who has me.. Who has them.. and knowing that I am not alone. Ever. I can also trust myself; I’m learning to ask the right questions, the right paths are welcoming me with eager arms and there really does feel like no turning back. Nothing is ever certain, death is a well-placed illusion. The here and now is Heaven on Earth.. It’s Home.. We’ve just forgotten..

 

 

 

For Such A Time As This.

For Such A Time As This.

Thirty is a great age to check-in and do a self evaluation. I think this happens naturally, among  some human species, but for the massive few who ignorantly continue on in life, they worry more about the “age” of something and when their life goals don’t meet their life expectation, suddenly that “number” becomes the focal point. The maddening stick of truth that they cannot ignore… They are getting older and still feel like they’re in their 20’s, hence the reason, the Older they get, the Older they look and the less we believe when they claim 35.

Age is an idea in your mind.

Whatever you believe about that age, you will duplicate.

In case you missed the important part in that sentence… YOUR MIND IS FUCKING POWERFUL.

So what are you putting into it today? What thoughts is your mind running toward? Are they positive, goal oriented sites? Or fear, trembling in the shadow of your past. Your fear, the same one that stops you in your tracks, is the same fear, trembling by your side. Not much of champion, just cowardice.. Do you know you can stop your thoughts? Reject them? Redirect? Renew your mind? We often feel powerless but the truth is that we have more power in our pinky than we know what to do with. What is this fear holding you from? What is it stopping you from being? becoming? Growing into? Growing up.

I think our generation feels a little lost.. We seem to be picking up a few stragglers, but the force of our generation is lost in between their parents divorce and 9/11. The world didn’t make a lot of sense when we were growing up, so now that we are grown-ups, it kind of makes sense that we all want to stay hidden in the shadow with our fear, comfortably trembling and rattling beside us. We’re stuck in the crib with a rattle now.. and what’s worse, we like the rattle because the noise lets us know we are not alone! Yet, if we looked outside of our self-made crib, we’d be amazed to learn that we can literally step over those barriers. They can not hold you any longer! You are a dog, trained to stay behind the gate, because you have viewed this gate your entire life, and even though you have grown-up, You still see this Gate, as your insurmountable Everest, when in fact you have the strength, size and massive will to destroy it.

Why? Why should you care? Why should you, comfortable with your rattle, decide to come play with the other adults? Because we’re building a future over here, with our blocks, machines and big-boy toys… and we need You. We’re dreaming and envisioning a future where you are free, your kids are happy and free and the world makes a little more sense. If you don’t want a say or piece in that world enjoy the gate, but never forget those who have perished, behind walls, serving a system bigger than themselves, A system that terminated them when they were no longer useful… We repeat our history until we learn the lesson. I care, because I don’t care to repeat the history.. because I refuse. I reject it entirely. I focus, renew and reset my mind on impossible dreams with impossible odds. And one day, they will all come true. And when they do, it will either be the most glorious mind fuck to pull over the world or the biggest miracle… Have you forgotten what you wanted? Or is the haze finally beginning to slip away.. Do you see it yet? You were made, for this day, for such a time as this.

Don’t Believe me just watch…

Waiting For You

Waiting For You

It’s a Thursday morning, a week ago. I am trying to get my kids loaded into my white Rav4.

I’m running late.

On a meeting I scheduled.

With my new Boss.

He is a brilliant new CEO with all the potential to become a significant world leader. I have an agenda on this day, A) train my new nanny without laughing too hard. I am not the person to have “a nanny” and yet 7Am showed up and so did she. (Thank God.) As long as she keeps showing up every day, I can actually tackle this job. B) I’m trying to explain the rush of the morning to OUR Fabulous Nanny-Nina, that’s right we’re those white people who hired a bilingual nanny and yes, she is teaching my kids Spanish.. I’m working on Rosetta Stone, French AND Spanish presently. My mind is running a million hours a minute. I am literally talking to her, while explaining drop off,  my six-year-old’s habit of literally taking F-O-R-E-V-E-R  to do anything and you have to stay on top of her,  and simultaneously feeling a little bummed out.

I had planned to bring goodies to the office for the staff as a “welcome” but my 15-month-old decided to spend our last week of mommy-and-me time cutting SIX molars and getting a sinus infection… and just like that, those grande ambitions to be the “best Executive Assistant” before I even start go floating out the window. I have a slobbery, drooly, very VOCAL child on my hands.. even as I am learning my bosses new “pace”, answering emails and prepping with the office, I have a screaming almost-toddler in my face making sure I hear Every. Single. Opinion about what the hell is happening in her head. Nanny-Nina takes the Little One and loads her as we keep chatting at light-speed to try to make up for our lost time when my 6-year-old slams the car door on my middle finger.

Now…. the LAST time I had my finger slammed in a fucking car door, My older brother did it. It was a common occurrence for my little fingers to be packaged in ice from the age of about 3 to 4. Luckily, I learned really quickly that falling flat on my face in an effort to “hop” out of the car, was a wiser choice than touching anything on the frame of the car, for assistance… it’s like the little beast waited for the opportunity to literally see them touching the car, and smash them. HULK SMASH!

So now, fast-forwarding 26 years… it’s been a little while since I have had to recover from such an unexpected blow. It doesn’t matter how little or large the fingers are, in fact I think little fingers get off the hook because they are smaller to pull out as you are sitting there, feeling like Rapunzel in Tangled, and determining “do I just pull it out or push them gently through”. The decision is made automatically and before I know it, I am almost a grown woman, hopping up and down, hitting the pavement with my other hand, anything to not FTFO (freak The Fuck OUT) in front of my kids and new nanny. It doesn’t work. I have a face, freshly painted with Bobbi Brown Make-up.. it’s 7:45am, so I know every woman out there knows what time I had to arise in order to make that happen. The tears are threatening to spill out from behind my eyes… I decide I only have one option… Find a way to laugh. Now.

So I start talking about my brother.. I remember how much my eldest reminds me of him, how most of the time, that’s a blessing to see such a sweet spirit fostered instead of squelched. Thriving, not fearful.. I see so much hope in that little face.. and yet I know, she reminds me of my brother for a reason. She just doesn’t think the way I do, and that’s ok… just foreign because she came out of me, and acts like the person that I least understand as an adult. Makes parenting a little tricky. Especially when I see reason for sayings like “the beatings will continue until Morale improves” but know that is not the way to get through that thick little skull of hers.

It’s a tricky balance. One I work on every day. It’s probably one of the main reasons I am so damn grateful to have a nanny-nina.. because I am not one of those “moms” who thrives in the “at-home” setting. I’ve been squelched. Well, now that’s interesting.. starting to understand my brother a little more.. and that means I already have all the tools to figure out my kid. I just need to think harder. Find a better creative solution that meets her needs.. and now that Mommy is getting her spirit filled up through a fast-paced-high-demanding-job I actually have a second, in between all the jumping and howling and laughing, to consider this…

I get back in the car.. I laugh. I assure the 6-year-old that mommy is fine and not mad at all, it was an accident. We laugh and sing to school, I make it to work for my meeting and that in and of itself is a entirely separate adventure… As we listen to “cake by the ocean” I have a bittersweet moment of realizing, this opportunity, this growth is me having my cake and eating it too.. by the ocean is even better. I may not have all the answers and God knows I make my fair share of mistakes; but here, in this space, there is exponential opportunity for growth… I feel like an adult for the first time, like I am not the kid that got married young, had babies and now sits at home…the bonus is that every life experience I have in my arsenal, is being purposed for this very time. My “experiences” and the character that was built through blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice of surviving adolescence finally counts for something. No, is what makes me qualified for this job and this moment. And that’s when it hits, the transformation has begun, my life has been waiting for this time, perfected by forces and elements yet unseen.. THIS is 30.