Birthday Mantras @ 40

I have to say, I was a little wound up about my 40th birthday for some weeks before.  I was trying to construct in my mind the most perfect day but couldn't seem to get there; I was overwhelmed by the expectation and more than a little tired of my mind's obsessive planning.

By some grace of God, I decided a week before the "big day" that it actually didn't matter what I did on my birthday; what really mattered was my attitude and grounding going into my birthday.  So, also thankfully, I took action.  I quick signed Francesca up for camp.  I quick hired my mother's helper to come nearly every day.  And I quick made a list of priorities with my new mantras in mind: I am active!  I am fun!  I am loving!

So each day I ran through the woods; practiced yoga by the river and meditated there too; I wrote in the cafe (and one day I even did a little shopping!)...all the while, reciting my new beloved mantras.

All of this felt terribly indulgent at the beginning of the week and I had to push through some fear about Francesca being at camp all day (despite the fact that she came home happy, excited and even a bit more limber each day!) and saying goodbye to Lilian at the door. But I continued to follow my own instructions.

Some mornings I would think of the many errands I could do during my time out - grocery store; gas; dinner prep - but I drove directly to the river and I ran.  (On a side note, I found running through the woods quite exhilarating!  I felt fast and happy and I found a new practice: smiling while running comes very naturally!)  Each day I felt more and more like myself; stronger, happier, calmer.  And I knew this was not just a gift for me, but a gift to my family and the world.

And you know what?
I had the most perfect birthday.

Here is a little poem I wrote about my day (and all that led up to it.)

Birthday Mantras and Actions

Open your heart to the love!
Listening to my own instructions.

Your heart is as wide as the lake!
Wisdom speaking.

I am active!
Running up the side of a mountain; yoga and quiet on the ledge; swimming in the lake -temperature perfection; kayaking to the cove.

I am fun!
Smiling all the way down the side of the mountain (what a wonderful practice smiling is!); laughing easily; emerging as myself - light and free.

I am loving!
Kisses and warmth and love; resisting no gift of affection.

Open so that you may receive gifts of love and goodness and recognize the interconnectedness of our lives and our hearts.  

"Mommy...are you home?"

I had just a little time with Lilian this morning.  She slept in.  And I had plans.  Big plans.  I had some help and I was going to get out to take care of myself.  I had constructed a long list of all of the things that I wanted to do.  When the little one woke up with sleep in her eyes and a sweaty brow, I already had my running shoes on and was ready to go.  I fixed her breakfast, gave her her vitamin and got her dressed in lightning speed.  She tried slowing me down with her sweet, slow questions but I had a deadline for leaving the house and I was sticking to it.  In her laid back manner, she protested only with a quiet "no" to my leaving and soon agreed that playing with Abby and Blair would do just fine for her.

And with some quick kisses and minimal directions, I was off in a flurry.  And I followed through with my own directions which felt something close to divine.  I ran through the woods.  I practiced yoga by the river.  I sat.  And stayed.  I even wrote a bit.  And I drank tea by myself.  All of these practices were short compared to previous standards, but I needed to do all of them.  I was like a car nearly on empty and I could feel myself filling up, one precious activity at a time.

And although my heart felt more at ease, I returned home with busy-ness still in my step.  I rushed to the bathroom before Abby had to leave, fixed ice water and lunch for Lilian and set up a chair to feed Blair.  Lilian ran and grabbed a book for me to read while she ate her lunch and in the midst of this new flurry, she asked, again in her sweet, slow speech, "Mommy, are you home?"

Of course, I outwardly replied yes, but I was struck by the profundity of this question.  Am I here?  How often am I "with" my kids, but really somewhere else....planning; creating lists; thinking of the many other things that I could be doing; or stuck in some pattern of worry or complaint.  So this is my resolve, at least for today, to repeatedly ask myself this question, "are you home?"

Swingin' With It

"Mommy!  You don't need to push me!"  

"What?"

She ran to the swing.  

Pure pride in her stride.  

And there she went.  

Hopped on and used her two feet on the ground to get herself going.  

In what seemed like an instant, she was swinging as high as if I had given her a hefty push and tickled her back saying, "not so high!"

I looked on with pure astonishment.  For me, this was as big as her first steps (if you can compare such a thing.)  I have been pushing her since she was six months old (and this little one has always adored the swing so that is a lot of pushes!)

I clapped and cheered as my mind raced back to grasp . . ., "it's gone!  The time of pushing Francesca is gone."  Outwardly, I exclaimed, "what am I supposed to do now?  I am out of a job!"  Francesca laughed as she does when I say this and went right on swinging with joy!

At least twice a day I yearn for Francesca's independence: do you really need me to come to the bathroom with you?;  Sit with you while you get dressed?;  You are almost 5!  I am teaching her to butter her own toast and cut with scissors.  But I was not prepared for this swinging-on-her-own business.  And that is the thing about motherhood; our frustrations are also our joys: our letting go is also our holding on.  And rarely do we have a say; more and more people will teach the girls things that I know nothing about and they will come running, exclaiming their success; their independence . . .that for which we wished.  

I held out my hand to Francesca as we walked to the car.  I breathed a sigh of gratitude as she took my hand.  I made darn sure to pause right there; feeling her hand in mine knowing full well that someday, without any warning at all, she will no longer take it.  

Ode to Grandmothers

You sweep in

with tender touch

You listen

with knowing ears

You love 

without condition

You savour

the sweetness of new life

You have done so much for me and my family as we continue to move through these tender years of early childrearing.  You have swept my floors and cooked us meals; you have folded laundry and held my girls.  But the absolute greatest gift that you have given me is your wise perspective fostered from a bit of space in your own lives.  You are able to return to a home of a newborn (because really it is their home) with a freshness and tenderness that is unmatched.  And it is you who have reminded me to pause in the sweet spots; to sing to my children and to look them in the eyes and closely. 

On this day, and everyday, I am thankful to the grandmothers in my life.  

  

Clenching the Well

Oh, dear gratitude.  I know how incredibly important you are and perhaps this is why you have eluded me.  When I have practiced you, my mind has felt mechanical and I am afraid to say disingenuous at times.

Until recently I would only really do a gratitude practice at lunch time (my one quiet meal of the day (if the stars aligned properly)).  I would go through the food on my plate and muster whatever gratitude that I could for the avocado, lettuce, chip.  When I began this practice a couple of months ago I would try to go deeper with the food and think about where it came from; the earth and the hands that touched it on its way to my plate.  But lately I have been rushing through my gratitudes like a grocery list.  And then there was that thought behind my gratitudes, "Hurry Up!"

So, knowing how important gratitude is, I began to ramp up my practice just a bit.  I started listing off gratitudes in bed right before going to sleep.  If nothing else, this was a sweet way to end the day and quickly I would be fast asleep.  Perhaps because this was the last thing that I did before drifting off I began to then spontaneously move into the practice in the middle of the night when I woke to feed Blair.  Again, sweet.

And then this happened:

At some point in my life yesterday or last night (oddly, I have no recollection of when it actually happened) my gratitude felt, well, true.  This feeling of sincerity made my whole being feel full of contentment and peace.  For whatever brief moment, I was in awe of this well of gratitude that was brimming over inside of me.

And then this next thing happened:

My mind perked up and exclaimed, "This is it!  This is the feeling that has eluded you/me over the years!  Quick!  Let's figure out how we got here and how we can hold on!"  I clenched the well.  And then it disappeared.

I can try to get it back through words, but they are nowhere nearly as expansive as the heart.  Alas, I will continue my practice of gratitude however simple or mechanical it feels.  I will also continue to open my heart and train my mind so that when I stumble on the well again I can bask there for just a bit longer.

This weekend I . . .

*  Danced with our 2 month old instead of vacuuming.  She giggled for the first time.  In my arms.

*  Sat with our 2 year old while she ate her early dinner instead of unloading the dishwasher.  We looked at each other in the eyes and reflected on the day, "good day, mommy."

*  Stopped pestering our 4 year old to come inside for a bath when I noticed that she was in a magical world that I could only observe from afar.  I thought to myself, this is her life; her magic; let her have it.

I, of course, did a lot of other things too.  I will spare you the list.  But these three bullet points above were the most important things; the things that heal me and make it all worth it.  And I am reminded once again by my dear buddhas that I must stop and be with them (or notice where they are) otherwise I will sink in a sea of laundry and dishes and miss all the magic myself.

Cosmic Joke

Every now and then, as I am putting Lilian down for a nap, we get the giggles.  There is no rhyme or reason to this but it typically spawns from her.  Something strikes her as funny . . .the way I am singing?  the zipper on my fleece?  or, more typically, she is laughing at herself.  This specific laughter is irresistible and I cannot help but join (which is a little uncharacteristic of me as I tend to have razor sharp focus at naptime.)

But not with this laughter; it is just too much joy to the square inch.  The last time it happened and I really listened it felt as though this little 23 pound bundle understood it all; it was like she got the great cosmic joke.