On Sabbatical: a practice in Savasana

I've been on sabbatical for the last four months. I needed to put away my phone, step away from my email, and live without the expectant urgency of being on call. The start of the new year felt like great timing.

I was intimidated to declare my intentions for a break—it felt risky because MamaBorn had great momentum and work was very steady—but I knew it was what I needed, and it felt like good practice to listen to that inner voice of knowing. It felt even better (in hindsight, at least) to reply YES.

Yes, take a break. Yes, your work and everything else will benefit. Yes, you will figure it out.
Ah, sweet relief.

Not counting two maternity leaves, I've never taken a full break from paid work. At first I felt naked with a clear calendar. It was hard NOT to think about MamaBorn, or some variation of MamaBorn. I found it a challenge to circumvent the natural spontaneous brainstorming that had become my routine. It was hard to stop from dreaming up new projects for MamaBorn, new approaches to marketing, new services, and new formats for delivering birth education to expectant parents. I had to force myself to adopt the savasana mentality—a challenging yoga pose of total relaxation—and resist the urge to think or make or do anything in particular.

This card hangs in my office as a reminder. Credit: Colette Paperie.

I spent January cheerfully but reluctantly settling in. I talked a lot—to anyone who would listen—and brain dumped my nervous energy into my journal to try to clear my head and regain clarity on what my next steps would be. (An iterative process that always brought me back to my intention to master Savasana.)

February was devoted to catching up on a long list of accumulated to-dos that had created a life of their own while I was enraptured with work and family. My office was a disaster and the changing season called me to clear our home space to make room for whatever was to come. So I cleaned, and purged, and organized everything under our little roof.

Writers block had also been pressing hard for months so I enrolled in a creative writing class to try to get out from under it. Timed writing exercises and mandatory read alouds tenderly pushed me beyond my comfort zone. It was terrifying and inspiring. I realized that ordinary life—theirs and even mine—offers universal narratives that are interesting and so worth the writing and telling. I found a new perspective for the censors that live in my head and gladly re-claimed my writers voice.

In March we declared our commitment to homeschooling, and here is where I acknowledge the ways in which the choices that Andy and I make for our family life directly impact my ability to devote energy and time to my paid work. Our priorities have shifted yet again, and I'm just sitting with the uncertainty of all of it and holding space for the possibilities. It is an uncomfortable place for me but I'm getting better at riding out these known unknowns. (I think I accepted the likely ebb and flow trajectory of my career within the the first few months of new motherhood.)

Here it is the end of April and for now, due to Summer travels that begin next month, my Sabbatical continues indefinitely. It feels impossible to know how much energy I will have to pursue MamaBorn in its current incarnation, or even the possibility of another baby, until we begin our homeschooling journey and I can see it unfold in real-time,

How do you mentally juggle career and family? How do you live in the present? Does Savasana come easy for you?

Listening practice, another step toward caring for self

If I can sum up my goals for this upcoming year in just one word, it is: LISTEN

I'm really good at following the lead of my kids, observing them, listening and validating their needs, trusting them, and mothering them in ways that respect who they are. 

I'm really good at following the lead of my mama clients in birth, observing them, listening to their needs, trusting their bodies, and supporting them in ways that respect and facilitate their priorities and their process. 

I believe that little bodies and birthing bodies have innate intuition, insight, and guidance. Yet, in order to be heard there needs to be someone present and willing to listen. 

Despite how ingrained TRUST IN BODY is for me, I've had a slow realization that in some very basic ways I've lost touch with my own inner knowing. Over time, and with a lot of practice, I've become accustomed to ignoring and overriding the voice that signals hunger, fullness, a need for sleep, or time to rest. I've lost trust in my own body to tell me what it needs. 

I don't mean to imply that I have an inherent flaw, I'm referring to the subtleties of : 

• over-committing my person or my time to activities that I know aren't the best use of my limited resources. 
• choosing to stay up late watching another episode of my favorite show instead of listening to my exhausted body and going to bed to refuel with adequate sleep. 
• Eating lunch at noon just because it's "lunchtime", even though I'm not hungry.
• Ignoring hunger for hours because I'm immersed in writing or running errands, or think I'll eat less overall if I can just hold off. 
• knowing that what I really need now is to read a book, or take a yoga class, or chat with a friend, or take a nap, and instead of honoring those requests I feel compelled to check social media accounts, run 5 miles, check off items from my work to-dos, or stay awake to tidy the house. 

Do you know what I mean? 

I used to make these little decisions as a result of a lack of awareness, but lately it has been in spite of a rather well developed one. I'm switching gears from ignoring and overriding what I feel, to cultivating a generally quieter and less stressful lifestyle more conducive to hearing even the softest calls, listening for them, hearing them without judgement, trusting that there is some wisdom present, and then choosing to care for myself.

So, this week the kids have been sick with Fall colds, and I have had a lingering migraine that served as my first cue that I was probably next in line for a scratchy throat and sinus congestion. I've been dragging all week, just tired, and grumpy.

Instead of using the time that I generally rely on to get my work done and to write, and to keep home, I chose to spend most of it sleeping or laying about. It's a hard thing to do, to choose self care over productivity, but I have to start somewhere, and this week while my list of to-dos remains lengthy, it feels really good to practice listening.

Boundaries, FAQ answers

A while back readers posted questions to an FAQ request. Today I'm sharing more about how we prioritize the family's needs in the context of a larger family structure.

Anonymous asks:
"I would like to know how you manage these intentional life choices within the context of a broader family structure - So, how do you explain/justify and support your efforts and money spent on eating well to extended family who just don't get it? How do you keep an eye on your overall family goals when they are challenged by other needs you must attend to (for example, spending time with or caring for or celebrating with extended family members and friends when it might seem to come at the expense of immediate family)."

After giving it some thought, the answer to both questions really comes down to boundaries.

As parents, Andy and I have not always been good at establishing healthy boundaries, especially within those familial relationships where they are probably needed most (i.e., grandparents!). Even though we are more aware and wiser to the better outcomes that having clear boundaries and expectations can create for all involved, we are still learning how to be effective, kind, and true to ourselves when we express our needs to our families and friends. Holding others accountable for respecting our boundaries is the other aspect of boundary setting that we often struggle with. Setting boundaries is iterative and lifelong but worth the benefits of improved communication and the preservation of important relationships. Our individual and family needs will change over time, so there will be plenty of opportunity to practice until it becomes second nature. (I like this article on boundary setting and accountability.) I'm breaking this up into two parts:


1. How do you explain, justify, and support your efforts and money spent on eating well to extended family who just don't get it?

When it comes to how we spend our money, what we eat, and/or how we invest in our health we don't typically discuss these topics with our family (or friends). While I love to talk about actively sourcing and preparing the foods that we eat, how we see our family's place in our food chain, and the importance of eating good food from animals that led good lives (including the health benefits of eating animals that have been fed their normal diets), I reserve those passionate discussions for individuals whom I know share my views. Otherwise, I'm happy to explore these topics when asked about them directly but, as with politics, I generally don't go out of my way to go into detail.

It is very likely that neither set of grandparents, nor most of our friends fully understand our motivations to seek out pastured/local/seasonal/organic foods, and that's ok. We are fortunate that criticism and other negativity from our immediate circles are not part of the dialogue around this topic.

2. How do you keep an eye on your overall family goals when they are challenged by other needs you must attend to (for example, spending time with or caring for or celebrating with extended family members and friends when it might seem to come at the expense of immediate family time.

As a new mother I was surprised to find that one of the most challenging aspects of my transition was the effort required to navigate the fundamental and necessary shift in family dynamic that occurs when a daughter becomes a mother and a mother becomes a grandmother, or really when any adult child becomes a parent to the next generation. The simple fact challenges the established ways of communicating and interacting.

When we became parents the importance of maintaining a routine became clear early on. While we were learning to live at a slower pace, and to care for our nuclear unit, our extended family's expectations had not changed all that much and their requests began to feel more like unreasonable demands, with consequences. After some trial and error and attempts to compromise, we realized that pushing the kids past their limits in order to partake in activities or events to which we had committed ourselves (by choice or obligation) just wasn't working for us. These scenarios almost always ended with feelings of disappointment and frustration as our ability to fully engage and enjoy the time spent was hindered by the extra effort required to care for unhappy babies and toddlers.

The solution was to set boundaries by communicating the kinds of activities that our young family could commit to participate in while also being honest about what we couldn't manage, at least for now.

When it comes to participating or not in family and other social events we do pick and choose what we feel is reasonable and on what level. We may decline an invitation altogether or suggest an alternative that works better for our family. We may participate in only a portion of the activities scheduled for a given event. We may make special accommodations in order to ensure our family's needs are met at the same time that we are meeting the needs of others. There have been times when Andy and I really wanted or needed to show up for an event, like a college graduation, and we knew that the kids would require naps mid-day and that they wouldn't likely be able to sit through the entire ceremony. In order to make it happen we planned ahead and did the best we could. We have become very comfortable dropping everything and leaving when it is clear that the kids can't tolerate a given situation. In the case of the graduation, they boys were animals and Andy left with them so they could nap in the car and I stayed behind to witness my little brother receive his diploma.

We've also developed a level of comfort for the scenarios in which an identifiable compromise doesn't exist, and in those cases we choose our family. I understand that life is lived in phases and right now when the kids are so young and when it is our responsibility to meet their basic needs* we remain flexible but prioritize their needs and our parental sanity over the needs of others. It doesn't always please everyone, but it is necessary for us.

Our extended family has grown to better understand our changed priorities, and as a result their expectations have also changed. They don't seem as disappointed as they may have been early on. Another important detail of our story is that we live in a different city from our families, and most of our close friends, so distance makes our independence and autonomy easier, if not built-in.

*basic needs: nutrition, sleep, rest, downtime, safety, connection, cuddling, fun, and mastery (Peaceful Parent, Happy Kid).

This moment now

Woven through last week's New Year 2013 posts, a shared sentiment emerged among my momma blogger friends. In our own words we shared hope that the new year will bring opportunity for implementing, exercising, and appreciating greater peace and presence in the moments that make up every day. I sense it is an ideal we seek in order to create calm and to soothe our own anxieties, that if we can learn to be present we can somehow protect ourselves from the relative pain and suffering inherent to our role as mothers.

The built-in community that exists in this online space is part of what draws me to write here: validation and comfort knowing that my struggles are not mine alone. My experience is extraordinary to me because it is mine, but it is otherwise ordinary.

I feel what other mothers feel what I feel.

For me being present centers around conserving my energy. To feel deep stillness, joy, and appreciation in the moments that are perfection in the way I imagine it can be, but also when the opposite is true. That I can have greater clarity and awareness of my own needs. That I can be better tuned-in to this moment in order to meet my boys where they are and JUST BE, without judgement. Even if the moment is brief.

To feel the static of Merritt's wispy baby hair against my cheek or the pinching grip of his tiny fingers in my arms as he holds to me as we fervently dance across the hardwood floors.

To breathe in the sweet vinegar sweat left in Roscoe's damp hair after a good long nap.

To cut through the chaos of the 5 o'clock witching hour to meet eyes with Roscoe, raise my brow and elicit songs of peeling laughter. 

To accept with undivided attention his invitation to watch him move his cars to and fro, even when I feel I don't have time to stop moving forward my own weighty cargo.

Does fear drive my impulse to want to catalog in my mind the warm weight of his body in my arms, the pitch of his 3 year old voice, the cadence of their steps? We give everything to our children and yet there are no guarantees for their health or safety in this world. There are no assurances that when they reach adulthood they will love us, or feel loved by us, in the ways that we hope they will.

On the other hand, pining for the power and capacity to do it all, do it well, and to make the journey look easy-as-pie, all the while managing to avoid shifting into auto pilot, appears like fallout from the "parenting is a skill to be mastered" norm that constricts as it empowers the parenting of our generation.

Either way, I am motivated with intention to move through our daily rhythms with energy reserved only for what matters most. We know this is not forever, let's hold on tight to the good stuff so we can carry it with us into tomorrow. Save the stress, feelings of hurry, and anxiety about what comes next. Save the shame of not having been perfect in the past.

This moment right now is deserving.

This moment right now is enough. 

Fortuitous events define my career & a sneak peak

My first series of birth education classes started two weeks ago. Since I returned home from BlogHer, most of my time has been invested in preparing and rehearsing each weeks' curriculum and to fleshing out a birth services concept that I'm developing for my new project MamaBorn. The logo is finalized, and a website design is in process.

Check it out!

I've been so immersed in my work, and feeling lucky to be in this place of utter freedom and creativity, professionally. I spent a lot of time in the years before I became pregnant worrying about how I would manage being a mother and having a career. I wish I had known then how the pivotal moments of my early career would be defined not by the detailed plans I'd laid out in advance, but by fortuitous events that no one could have predicted.

Like when my former boss resigned from her position midway through my maternity leave after Roscoe was born--I had already decided not to return to my job but reconsidered when I heard the news.

Then, when a Director in another division offered me the opportunity to manage under her a public health initiative with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and then encouraged me to ask to work from home so I could remain with Roscoe--without her advocacy I wouldn't have had the courage to even consider asking for the flexibility to telecommute.

Later, the opportunity to certify with the American Academy of Husband-Coached Childbirth presented itself (made possible by a locally offered training), which was followed closely by Merritt's untimely arrival, all to highlight for me the strength and fragility of the human spirit when we bring new life into the world, and the importance of supporting women in the ways they want and need to be supported during labor and birth but also postpartum, particularly around lactation and attachment in the NICU.

Then came our big move South. Putting our house on the market was another on-a-whim decision that ended up paying off in huge ways. Now I live in a small city that fosters startups and creative thinkers. A community that supports small, local business. Add to that an active and influential birthing community with progressive ideas and real options for women and families, and you may see how things are falling right into place.

Not knowing then how motherhood would change me, I'm proud that my boys have motivated me to want more for myself, from my life and from my work.  I'm learning to be flexible, and patient, as I navigate a nontraditional career hinged, at least for now, on the relationships I'm building at home. The kids are at the center of what I do every day and I'm grateful that I can remain committed to them and also follow other parts of my heart out into the community to share what I've learned and to teach what I know.

On mother's day weekend

My mom graduated with her masters degree in social work this weekend. It has been a long road to this place, but she made it. When her babies were young she applied and was accepted into a graduate program in Oregon and when my dad was offered a promotion soon after, which required the family to move to another state, my mom's educational aspirations were put on hold.

I was just five years old then.

Mom was accepted into the MSW program at VCU when I was twenty-six, the year that I became pregnant with Roscoe. We've been in parallel worlds the last four years, my mom and I, nurturing our respective dreams and growing as women, and as mothers.

The sacrifices we make as mothers and wives to balance our needs and those of our children and our marriages, they are real.  I love that she held on to this, and carried it with her all of these years, just waiting for the pieces to fall into place.

It is the dance of timing. Knowing what is important and when it is possible. There's a certain grace required to make the dreams worth keeping come true.

Friday was her day and we are so proud of her. 

The 9 Basic Needs

In the same spirit as our Family Mission Statement and Family Rules, I want to share an exercise that we completed to redefine our basic needs.

Perhaps like many of you on the journey to your best life I've been striving to "simplify". To  do away with the clutter that threatens clarity and that steals my time and energy.  Whether the clutter is literal stuff filling up the space that we live in and work, empty or superficial relationships, processed and factory farmed foods, or busy routines that leave us exhausted and wanting. We aim to experience more of the good stuff in life and pursue as priorities only that which brings more joy and meaning to every day. 

One step to gaining clarity is to distinguish our needs from our wants. When asked to define my basic needs, I had only ever considered the literal basics of food, shelter, and water, which wasn't very inspiring. Of course we need those, and we have them. So what now?

Andrea from Frugally Sustainable wrote a blog post Redefining our Wants Versus our Needs as part of the 23 Day Frugal Living Challenge series that she created. In the post she paraphrases Donella Meadows from her book Beyond the Limits, and shares examples of how we might reframe what we really need.

• You don’t need a bigger house or car, you need respect.
• You don’t need the newest cosmetics, you need to feel attractive.
• You don’t need a closet full of clothes, your need variety and beauty.
• You don’t need electronics (i.e. TV’s, gaming systems, stuff with apple logos, etc.), you need something worthwhile to do with your life.
• You don't need material things, you need identity, community, challenge, acknowledgement, love, and joy.

She goes on to ask, Could it be that our longing to feel satisfied is leading us to all the wrong places? Through all of time and in all cultures these needs are universal:

food 

clean water

shelter from the elements

intimate relationships

participation in a community

recreation/leisure

the ability to create

insight into self

freedom

I considered these nine basic human needs and wondered how the list might translate to my own life.  What would it look like for Andy?

We spent some time expanding each category to encompass our values and interests. I focused especially on the Intimate Relationships category and defined in detail, by name, the individuals that I want to comprise my tribe. I omitted the full list here, but paring down my social connections was necessary and the result is that the small amount of time that I have to share with others is directed at those relationships that I really care to invest in.

Here it is, our version of the 9 basic needs (my content is above the line, Andy's below):

Simple, right?  Obvious, maybe. What I love about our list though, is that the 9 basic human needs serve as a compass when we're given an opportunity to make an investment of time or money. These items we identified are what bring authentic happiness to our lives. These are the elements that are truly worth spending our money on.  It helps us to know how best to allocate our time.

And it really does work. How would you redefine your 9 Basic Needs?

Another Year at Home

After a lot of thought and some strategy talk, we've decided not to enroll Roscoe in preschool for the upcoming school year.

We learned through our 6 week experience at Waldorf that Roscoe may not be ready to assimilate just yet.  He was in almost constant conflict with one child or another, and while a number of variables were at play (such a small room, and so many momma/toddler pairs--it was a challenge not to come in physical contact with someone at some point; all the kids were so hovered over by their parents that the true kid-kid dynamic was hard to come by; class time fell right in the middle of Roscoe's nap-time; etc.) Roscoe just didn't seem to enjoy it very much.

We looked into some other attractive options in the area but found that by January/February, when we were feeling serious about applying, it was too late for most of the programs.  Open houses had passed, deadlines were looming large or else we had already missed them.  One school had a wait-list that had been started all the way back in October! New to the area we were definitely behind the preschool admissions curve.

I was temporarily devastated that Roscoe would be home all year, and that he would not get to experience some of the amazing opportunities afforded by these great programs. I was also distracted by the fact that his not going to preschool meant that I wouldn't have any breaks built in to the week for myself or for my work.

Subtracting the 6 months of maternity leave that I took when Merritt was born, I've been working at least part-time since Roscoe was 4 months old. I've grown to depend on my scheduled work-time as an opportunity to think non-child related thoughts and to feel like a professional, contributing my brain power to something outside my home and beyond our intimate bubble of family life.

I'll be honest, it's a break for me too, from the unforgiving demands of parenting.

So I had a discussion with our Nanny, who currently cares for the kids on the two days that I work each week, and she agreed to stay with us for at least another year.

Problemo solved.

I'm working through the end of May, and then I will move on from what has become a pretty sweet DC gig to spend two months prepping lesson plans and organizing the business-end of my soon-to-kick-off adventures in birth education. August will be the start of my first class.  I'm a little giddy and slightly nervous.  But I know I will love it and there is no doubt that I am looking to spend more time with the things that I love.

Maybe what I'm about to say next only speaks to my own prejudices, but I struggled for several weeks with the voice in my head that undermines my professional work and my dedication to the kids as their mother.

Spoiled. 
Greedy. 
Selfish. 

To have someone regularly watch the kids so that I can make my need for content, time, and space a priority, especially when I'm not even working, seems indulgent.  That last part, about "not even working" won't be so hard to overcome once I get started with my new venture but for now, the idea of immersing myself in the work of empowering families through birth education sounds like a dream, not a job.

Andy snapped me out of my negative self-talk and stifled my hesitation when he pointed out that, "Just because you're a mother doesn't mean that you have to devote every waking minute of every day to the kids or to me.  You deserve to have time to yourself.  Don't feel bad."

It's true, he's right. I feel supported now and worthy of this decision.

Next Fall we'll be at the ready with front row seats to open house night, our pre-filled applications in-hand. But this year, I'm looking forward to the luxury of following my heart into the birthing community, taking care of myself, and enjoying my boys and the life that we're building here.

Having someone to care for the kids for a few blocks of time every week will afford me the opportunity to work in peace, to have an extra hand, to get out on my own regularly, and to integrate more quality one-on-one time with each of the boys (I'm hoping to add afternoon dates to our routine).  Then, instead of feeling stressed in the evenings, to pack into 2 hours all the things that I didn't get around to doing during the day, I see them being open for Andy and I to reconnect.

As always, a happy momma makes a happy family.

Time and Knitting

It's taken me almost three years to get here, but I've found that carving time and space out each week, to do with however I please, makes me feel more balanced and whole. I have to believe that a more peaceful self translates to a more present and patient mother, and hopefully a more giving wife.

I've made a point to ask for what I need, and so every weekend I've been getting 3 or 4 hours--usually overlapping the kids' naps. Sometimes I go to the coffee shop up the street to drink tea, catch up on my reading, and work on various writing projects.  Other times I go out to run errands (alone is a rare treat!) and then come home to take care of a task that I would never find time for otherwise, like organizing my digital photo files.

This Saturday begins a three week course in knitting at an adorable little shop called The Yarn Lounge. Highly inspired by most everything that comes through my RSS feed from the Purl Bee (like this big knit rug), and also my blog friend over at the Maiden Metallurgist who knits for fun in between work and snuggles with her little guy Henry (check out her archive for more on her projects), I am looking forward to learning a quiet and portable craft that involves gorgeous yarns of all colors.

I'm told that I will learn the basics and, if all goes well, finish a scarf!  I picked that vibrant hue of blue in pure merino wool because it made me think of Spring.

Family Mission Statement

I haven't shared my extensive list of New Year to-do's for 2012, but one of my favorite items so far has been to complete a series of exploratory writing exercises from which we have developed our Family Rules, Family Needs (I'll share more on this in another post), and Family Mission Statement. 

Whether you seek daily clarity or long-range guidance, a mission statement is such a great place to start.

To begin, I pulled content from our Family Values and Family Needs documents, and also took inspiration from Simple Mom who has a really helpful post on the how-to's of developing a family mission statement. 

To reflect on who we are collectively and as individuals, what our dreams are made of, where our priorities lie, and to define what we believe is our family's purpose--to each other and in the greater context of what we believe is the purpose of life--what we value, and how we aspire to live, brings tremendous insight to my responsibility of guiding our family into the future.  

  

Our mission statement unites the four of us and declares our intention to be true to ourselves as we move through life together. 

I love that our mission statement applies as much now to our young family of four, as it might ten years down the road to our future family of six (or more!). Timeless. Yet we are at liberty to refine it as we grow and change. 

Have you developed a mission statement for your family?

UPDATE: This document has been refined and revised over the years, for the newest version please click here. 

Family Rules

Establishing Family Rules seems to be a popular exercise right now.  I liked the idea of thoughtfully crafting and displaying a set of phrases that capture the essence of our philosophy.

After taking a look at many versions (and borrowing from them some phrases that I really liked), I spent some time one morning to develop my ideas--it may be a work in progress, although what I came up with really resonates. It was a meaningful exercise for the start of 2012.

Perhaps our list will inspire you to think about (and even write down)  the values and ideals that are paramount to the way that you live your life and for which you aspire your children to live theirs.

At home in Corolla

We're vacationing in North Carolina this week with our good friends who invited us to their beach house for a Fall getaway. We began the week sharing space with nine adults and seven kids under the age of three but over the last couple of days some guests left and new ones arrived and right now we're down to just three families with a combined total of five little ones (all under two).

I've been to the Outer Banks many times but never to Corolla and I find the solitude here to be refreshing, it doesn't hurt either that the crowds are much thinner now, in the off-season.

Maybe you've experienced this too, but, for us, vacations with our kids do not necessarily include the kind that relax. Romance and adventure can't be counted on either, although, as the kids grow these opportunities are thankfully growing too.

I don't know why we didn't think of it before, but it is wonderful to vacation with friends all who have kids of the same age, where we put under one roof what we each experience in parallel on a daily basis. The experience here has been really inspiring and has highlighted for me the value of finding a community, or in our case, holding on to our tribe as we plan to move away from it later this Winter. I don't believe that our role as mothers is best cultivated alone, inside the isolated confines of our homes.

My heart relies heavily on my friends, and their families, to share the affects of parenting 'round the clock in a culture that neither particularly respects the investment that we make every day nor routinely nurtures the family unit. While we have no more hands than usual this week (and the children are as spirited as ever with all of their buddies around), the camaraderie we're experiencing as we do it all, together under one roof, is really encouraging.

Connecting over our shared struggles, learning from one another, helping to guide children that are not my own; confiding our fears and our confidences about the choices that we make every day to remain committed to gentle discipline, and devoted to raising our kids in attachment. We are teaching and learning together.

The weather here hasn't turned yet and so we've kept the windows open to let in the salty cool breeze--meanwhile, the humidity has the upholstery in the house feeling damp and chill. We drive right out onto the sandy beach to find the perfect spot for unloading our toddlers with their embroidered beach towels and buckets of toys.  We stroll the local shops, take bike rides with the kids, and treat ourselves to local donuts for breakfast and gelato in Duck after the loudest, most boisterous dinners we've ever attended.

While this week has been full of all of the things that we had hoped for, and it is true that this vacation most closely resembles those of our former (childless) vacations in the way of joy and feeling at ease, I'm most thankful for the generosity of our friends in creating this opportunity to feed our adult friendships.

There have been other seemingly ordinary milestones in my experience and journey as a mother, but our time together here is significantly shaping my perspective of what is and what can be, and it moves me even closer to becoming the mother that my boys deserve.

Saturated

I was thinking the other day about when I might be ready to get pregnant again--I know, it's so early still, but just to daydream a little about timing and seasons. It felt a little rushed last time, gearing up to get pregnant again when Roscoe wasn't even a year old yet. The burden of carrying another baby so soon after giving birth to my first was evident early on in the pregnancy and overall felt a lot more demanding.

Since Merritt's birth I've been aching to experience birth at home. Aching. It is a nagging feeling, like something I need to do again in order to know that I am still capable of it. Within hours after Roscoe's birth I also gushed about wanting to do it [give birth] again, but for different reasons.

Now, with two little souls to oversee, I have struggles that make a third seem all but absurd.

When Andy is home he does a majority of the physical parenting of Roscoe, which relieves me in many ways, but Merritt is solely my responsibility day and night. Met cries when he's held by anyone else, and will not under any circumstance sleep independently. He sleeps in the sling, and if he's not sleeping he's nursing. If there happens to be a 10 or 15 minute lull during the day when he is awake and content to hang out by himself I take the opportunity to do something with Roscoe, or for myself, which leaves me feeling guilty about lack of stimulation--I rarely pull out any toys, or books for him. Tummy time? Nope. I do feel that probably one of the most important things for Merritt right now is to be held, but I remember the kinds of activities that Roscoe and I did together at three months and hope that Merritt isn't missing out on something important or necessary. And then I remember Met's gestational age of 6 weeks and I throw up my hands. I don't know what he needs right now.

My only chance for relief is the two hours between Roscoe's bedtime and our bedtime, and typically Merritt decides to eat during that time. My nights are spent lying on my side with Merritt latched or close to it, and in the mornings I am so stiff that it hurts to get out of bed. For the past 5 or 6 days I have not been free from Merritt for more than a few minutes at a time. Yesterday afternoon I just felt angry, and claustrophobic that the ring sling had been wrapped around my body for almost 9 hours, less a few nursing sessions mixed in.

Then there's Roscoe who seems to have rolled right into the terrible twos as his birthday approached. I feel guilty that I can't provide him with the attention that he deserves because my arms and my body are otherwise occupied with his little brother. My patience is a lot thinner these days too. Roscoe's persistent demands and limit-testing ways challenge me every day to be a better mother, and require constant adaption to keep up with him.

The rules that governed my life before kids, or that have worked for me in the past, don't necessarily apply to parenting or the general chaos of being a parent. I thought that the trauma of first parenthood had facilitated my ability to adapt my expectations to meet the constant state of change that children bring, and to accept that I cannot control everything all of the time. I guess I'm still learning and have room to grow in this area because lately I've felt more like I've been surrendering, not accepting, which leaves me feeling resentful.

Maybe the expectations I have for myself are set too high--I have a habit of this in other areas of my life. Parenting with love, and respect, and intention, came naturally with one child but doesn't come as easily with two. I know there is no such thing as a perfect parent. I recently read an important quote that I've been reflecting on all week:

It's not that you're not going to blow it, it's what you do with it afterwards.

Once I think I have a handle on two, maybe then I'll know it's time for number three. Right now I'm pretty sure that my hands are full.

Family work in progress

I feel like a hostage again. But I know it's not forever.

My once mellow and not at all demanding baby has recently turned a 180 and assumed the more familiar role of protesting sleep anywhere but in my arms, and an extreme preference for nursing over everything else.

I'm frustrated with having to maneuver through every day handicapped by the use of only one arm. I frequently opt not to do the things that I want or need to do because the agony of muddling through it one-handed is just too much. Of the moby wrap, sakura bloom ring sling, and hotsling pouch, none truly allow me full freedom --I frequently find myself propping Merritt's head, supporting his butt, or otherwise reinforcing the carrier. Even though wearing Merritt in the Bloom is 100 times better than not wearing him, I'm disappointed by this.

Roscoe has, on cue, realized that I am incapacitated when nursing, and therefore unable to enforce any spoken directives. Our "discipline" of choice so far has been redirection or removal. Impossible choices when couch-bound. It's not always enough to verbally corral Roscoe, and I can't reinforce my words with action when I'm nursing. I've resorted to ignoring his antics when I'm not able to follow through--an irritating scenario that I quite frequently find myself in.

Some days I feel I let Roscoe down. Merritt is in the sling, or nursing 98% of the day. It's hard to meet the needs of everyone simultaneously, but even I am tired of hearing myself say, "let me finish x with Merritt, and THEN we can do y", or "I can't do x right now, I'm nursing Merritt." Merritt, Merritt, Merritt!

The last few days have been particularly hard, and after giving it some thought I was happy to remember that all things with babies and toddlers come in phases. Soon Merritt will be heartier, and able to hang out on his own a little more. This week nap time was a disaster, but that's not to say that next week will be the same.

The kids' needs and their routines are out of sync right now. The three of us do our little dance around each other all day, every day, and sometimes we all line up, and sometimes we don't. We're figuring it out together.

36 hours later

The Sears house is under quarantine.

It all began yesterday afternoon when I called Andy to see if he could come home early from work to relieve me of my parental duties--I was not feeling well at all. Pregnancy? Exhaustion? I wasn't sure. He came home at 5:00 complaining that he didn't feel well either. I tried to rest but nothing helped. By 6:30 Andy and I were trading off Roscoe and alternately running to the bathroom to throw up. Oh ew.

I put Roscoe to sleep at 7:40, and Andy and I headed to bed to rest as much as possible in between getting sick. Both of us happened to be up at 12:30am when I heard retching from Roscoe's room. And then crying. Baby was throwing up too! A family event.

I brought him into our room and we set up the blow up mattress, whose pump was low on batteries and so it would only inflate the bed halfway. Uncomfortable, but we didn't have the energy to care. So we made it and slept on it.

Ten hours and ten pukes later it seemed we had finally rid ourselves of the icky barf bug. We fell asleep around 4:00am.

Today has been tough. I miss sick days before kids. I took leave from work, as did Andy, but of course our little charge still needed as much love and attention as ever. So there were no couch naps, talk shows, hot cocoa, or novel reads. Instead, we had diaper changes, snack and meal preparation, sticker art, book reading, truck vrrrooommming! and lots of toddler chasing.

My mom brought dinner by, which was a highlight and, otherwise, I just put Roscoe down for the night and took my first shower in two days--I even brushed my teeth. Rehydration has been my personal goal. Hopefully, Little Sears fared okay through the ordeal.

How do you juggle the needs of your kids and yourself when sickness strikes everyone at once?

Let the music play

When I first began to write this post at the start of last week, a girlfriend of mine was due to give birth to her daughter in a matter of days. I have been thrilled for her since the day she found out she was expecting. Heck. I was thrilled when I caught wind that she was considering the idea of getting pregnant. In the months that preceded my efforts to conceive Roscoe, I actively tried to recruit her to join me in my pursuit to become a momma, because it's more fun with friends, right!? To no avail. Nevertheless, shortly after Roscoe was born she announced that she was pregnant. Remember her baby shower? She and her husband live directly across the street from us and over the last few weeks, between our two houses, anticipation has been building.

The days leading up to their birth-day got me thinking about how we felt this time last year, suspended in the quiet before the storm. I often muse that we had no appreciation for the true magnitude of what was about to hit us.

Spring makes me happy and April 2009 brought a warmer, brighter, and fresher season. At nine months pregnant I still had tight control over time. We slept late, eating up the peaceful calm that had blanketed our very existence as we anticipated the birth of our son. We showered at will, exercised nightly, and found plenty of time for reading, laughing, and connecting.

Sleep, control, autonomy, self maintenance--we took them all for granted.

If you had asked me at the time, there was nothing I would have wished we had done "before kids", except to indulge in a little international travel. And truthfully, I imagined that there was plenty of time for such things, later. What I could not have known was that our child would have sleep issues necessitating that we remain close to home. That we would not so much as leave the area--not once!--in the 11 months following his birth, for fear of disrupting the established routine. Or the role that time zones and unfamiliar environments might play against our carefully crafted norm.

Looking back, I wish I had taken just some of that extraneous time to soak up and relish in the everyday little things that now I can't put a finger on, even if I wished with all my might: sleeping when I'm tired, eating when I'm hungry, having space to retreat when I need to be alone, or finding time to cross off even one or two items from my to-do list each day. As my friends can attest, answering email with a response time of less than 10 days is nothing short of a miracle.

Some nights I have ambitious dreams about how it would feel to wake up truly rested, or what it would be like to have an entire day spread out before me and the power of choice combined with opportunity to engage in any activity or nothing at all. These days, the chance to focus on any one thing in increments greater than 2 minutes is a rare and savored moment--now that Roscoe is mobile, and vocal, keeping him content and occupied remains a challenge. It's an exception to the rule when I'm able to step away from him for more than a few minutes at a time--on cue his screeches and hollers, or adventurous endeavors, demand my hasty return.

This all goes without mentioning the daily balancing act that is, for lack of a better word, unfair--not everyone gets everything they need (well, two out of the three of us, anyway) and avoiding feelings of guilt and deficiency is the challenge of the day when I realize how unevenly my time is divided between Roscoe, Andy, work, and those precious few hours in the evenings that I carve out for myself--primarily to exercise--so that the non-momma "me" doesn't disappear completely as a result of giving everything to the point of leaving nothing.

Thursday night, coinciding with the frenzy of last minute packing--because we finally worked up the nerve to take a vacation (!)--Melissa went into labor. Actually, she'd been in the early stage of labor for well over 24 hours, but the contractions were finally becoming regular at 7 minutes apart. I remember the start of my labor with Roscoe as both thrilling and terrifying.

We've seen each other through the joyful turbulence that is trying to conceive and carry a baby. So it was a sweet twist of fate that I had the opportunity to offer support during those late night and early morning hours.

Birth is a Herculean feat that demands so much from the body that gives it, yet remains a force all its own. There is a certain trust that we can have in ourselves to safely bring our babies into the world. It is hard to put into words the warm fuzzies that Roscoe's birth elicits, and I continue to be inspired with awe by the birthing process. Being present for part of Melissa's journey to bring Kaleigh into the world was no exception. She was as calm and in control as they come.

I walked back to my house and crawled into my bed around 3:00 am, with the start of our first family vacation looming just three hours ahead (more to come on this)! Despite our best effort to disconnect from the hustle of dc suburbia, we were glued to the iphone all weekend, dying for news. Baby Kaleigh was born on her due date, Friday the 23rd, at 9:30pm.

Babies bring a state of constant change. They change our routine, our perspectives, our love, and they alter our reality. As parents we willingly give up so much, and without a second thought, to ensure that our kids thrive. Those first few moments, hours, days, even weeks--they are blissful. And before you know it, Reality marches in, bringing with it the 24-hour demands of perhaps one of the greatest relationships we'll ever know, and a challenge to strike balance as we foster a new family dynamic.

For me, the first year has been somewhat a blur. So much gets put off, or left behind, as you work to stay afloat. Now that the dust has settled, we're eager to refocus more of our energy on each other and our marriage, and all the little things that collectively combine to create sanity and a sense of control in our lives.

Our friends have so much to look forward to, and they will be challenged in ways that will make them grow. I imagine that their journey will be no less extraordinary or profound. If they aren't already, they soon will be dancing and singing to the tune of Little Kaleigh who will without a doubt rock their world.

Problems with baby sleep, is it the weekend yet?

Another insane week. No sleep, marathon breastfeeding, and work non-stop.

Around 3.5 months, Roscoe went from waking once or twice a night, to waking every hour. At first, I attributed it to 4 month sleep regression, but now that he's almost 5.5 months, I've really started to wonder what the heck is going on.

Our nights begin around 6 or 7. We get Roscoe ready for bed, we read books, he nurses, and we tuck him into his swing. One hour later he wakes up. I nurse him, and put him back into his swing. An hour later he wakes up, he nurses, into the swing he goes. Aaaaand an hour later, he wakes up, and we bring him into our bed. Lights out. The days of typing, reading, or catching up on Grey's Anatomy are totally over--way too distracting for him, apparently.

For the remainder of the night, Roscoe wakes ON THE HOUR to nurse until, rise-and-shine! It's 7 am.

Add to this a daily routine that consists of two ~30 minute naps and you have two bewildered parents who are now running on empty. Doesn't the boy need sleep? Needless to say, Andy and I definitely do.

I called the hotline at Roscoe's pediatrician's office and the nurse I spoke with was sympathetic but offered nothing in the way of useful advice. Actually, no less than two minutes after I explained that Roscoe was exclusively breastfed she suggested I put rice in his milk to help him sleep longer....

No help there.

Then I called my midwife who I love. Our thought is that Roscoe is just in the habit of nursing. For food, comfort, warmth, boredom, snuggles, etc. So Andy and I are going to try something different this weekend and after I've tanked him up, we're going to see if it's possible to distract Roscoe with other (non boob related) activities that we know he otherwise enjoys, and see if we can begin to space out the nursing. Hallelujah. I hope it works.

As for my job, one challenge inherent to telecommuting is the lack of distinct separation between work and home. Like an addiction, I can't stop checking my work email throughout the day. Roscoe's naps used to be my only downtime, now I'm spending them checking and rechecking my inbox. I'm going to have to establish some boundaries because I'm getting paid by the hour and I'm a part-time employee.

This week I made another successful in-office visit with Nanny M (who continues to be superb) and Roscoe in tow. The thing that made it all worth it in the end was a single Georgetown Cupcake. Yum. I want more.

Going back to work has made for a difficult transition, even with my reduced hours and under ideal conditions. Finding balance is awfully hard these days.