Motherhood: A progressive feast

ID-100365979
Thanks to OZphotography and freedigitalphotos.net for the imagery.

Motherhood is a progressive feast.

Motherhood is a progressive feast, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Sure, you can have it all. Just like you can at a progressive feast-you can have it all if you don’t eat too much at one place. You eventually have it all, the long and short of it, the braised ribs and soufflés, just not all at once, in one spot. Nothing is truer of that then motherhood.

All together frustrating and beautiful at once, this “have it all” bite by bite through life.

Its similarities are astounding: that meatball skewer appetizer at one house wasn’t your cup of tea, and neither was the terrible twos. The pork loin roast – a delicious slice gone in an instant – your daughter at six years old. The delectable pear dessert that was immeasurably satisfying and deeply pleasurable? The rocking chair years, the baby giggles, those fat, dimpled knees.

I don’t know about you, but I get lost in these woods sometimes, the ones that tell me I’m supposed to “have it all.” The thing is, though, only after giving up my big time career have I come to realize I have it all already. I’m just choosing what’s important to me in this season of my life, my family’s life.

We can have it all, eventually. (Italics emphasis for me, really as I’m reminding myself of this.) Just like my writing career – as much as I’d like an illuminating, fast-paced writing career, I can only build small towers at a time; small blocks of work and articles, one bite, one nap time at a time. I am still in the baby phase, a career growing at the same pace (or slower, if I’m being honest here) as my family.

And maybe eventually, I can say I was a best selling writer, an author, someone who writes a regular column.

But right now?

I’m still working slowly through the appetizers savoring each mouthful, most of which are pretty good.

Advertisements

Five Minute Friday – Dive

I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again..and late. Again.  Same old song and dance.  I used to beat myself up about it, but this is my real life, this is what happens on a Friday night; I post late.  Or in this particular case, I post the Five Minute Friday on Sunday  (yes, Sunday!) night.  Yes, I’m aware of the irony.  But, regadless-I’m still giving myself grace and yet also a pat on a back for doing it.

So, moving on-

A reminder in case you’ve missed it, this is the Friday Five Minute writing challenge, just in case, you know, you want to play sometime too-

This is a weekly writing “game”  from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/

So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes with freedom like you have no fear or shame.  And then you have to be brave (or pretend to be) and link up to her blog. Encouraging the writer who links up before you is part of the deal, too.  This last rule is crucial, as we all need to encourage others. Why encourage another writer? Because at one point or another in our lives, we all need encouraging too.

Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-

Dive

image courtesy of Ian Kahn
image courtesy of Ian Kahn

Dive is aggressive, it’s action, there is no other term for it but going deep.

In the creative world, there’s a term called “deep dive” which is just that-

It’s jumping off the board, taking a big risk, and going ALL IN, whatever the creative challenge may be.

There is no one-foot-only-in-the-water in dive.  There is no “un-diving.”

You’re all in, or you’re not.

This is a great thought for my relationships and my writing.  No more standing  allowed, on the edge only dipping toes in, afraid of community and of failure.

Dive in.  Fail.  Try some things.  Grow.

Diving is the invitation to risk, but really, it’s to grow. Because you can’t learn much from one cold toe in the shallow end.

Five Minute Friday – Opportunity

I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again..and late. Again.  Same old song and dance.  I used to beat myself up about it, but this is my real life, this is what happens on a Friday night; I post late.  Or in this particular case, I post the Five Minute Friday on Saturday night.  Yes, I’m aware of the irony.  But, regadless-I’m still giving myself grace and yet also a pat on a back for doing it.

So, moving on-

A reminder in case you’ve missed it, this is the Friday Five Minute writing challenge, just in case, you know, you want to play sometime too-

This is a weekly writing “game”  from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/

So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes with freedom like you have no fear or shame.  And then you have to be brave (or pretend to be) and link up to her blog. Encouraging the writer who links up before you is part of the deal, too.  This last rule is crucial, as we all need to encourage others. Why encourage another writer? Because at one point or another in our lives, we all need encouraging too.

Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-

Opportunity

ID-10015025
thanks to Michal Marcol for the image.

Opportunity: it knocks, it shouts, it whispers, it whimpers, it begs to be let in, to take the chance, to ride the wild roller coaster of choice.

Opportunity is of course the name we give chance when it’s expected, when it’s something of a wish coming true; something so tasty we dare not let it pass us by without a small bite, a lick.

The ugly side of fate, is what we call opportunity that is unbidden, unwanted, and frankly so yucky that we dare not touch it.

But opportunity-opportunity is not the knock but really making the best of whatever comes along, whatever chance happens to land at our doorstep door. Opportunity really, is the choice we make by making the best of things-good or bad.

Five Minute Friday, err, Saturday – Look

Hi Again-

I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again..and late. We had a date night last night (the last one I can remember in eons, a bit shameful about that fact), but I wanted to “be here, now” with my hubby, to fully engage and do that thing called eye contact and talking about something other than parenting that we so often miss in the midst of raising a family, a child, a life.

So, I’m hoping you understand that sometimes my blog takes a backseat for the life happening in front of my eyes.  But, good news is I don’t stay away for too long; I really just can’t help myself, to be quite honest.  I love writing, and sharing, and you all-all of you, a whooping 7 or so odd of you, so here I am!  Late to the party, but hey, a party nonetheless.

So, a reminder in case you’ve missed it, here’s what this challenge is all about…or, in case maybe you want to play too, some time-

This is a weekly writing “game”  from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/

So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes, free, like you have no fear or shame or no editor inside your head (all are hard for me)…and then you link up to her blog, and encourage the writer who links up before you.  This last piece is crucial, as we need to encourage others.

Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-

Look

Sometimes I look at something, think I understand it, but really all I’m doing is just scanning. Just glazing over, glancing over something, not looking at a friend’s need to connect, or poverty, or another’s need for comfort. I also glaze over my own frivolous nature, my perspective being all askew by the trappings of a middle-income suburban life.

The washing machine not getting all of our clothes clean is not a world-shattering problem.  Most days I rarely see this perspective.

I see, don’t look too closely; into other’s lives, closets, eyes.  I don’t avoid eyes like the plague, but I don’t engage wholly, my family’s eyes a tell-tale sign. I looked up one night to silence, to see his piercing, clear and patient eyes, and her same colored eyes, a mix of fierce intensity and innocence, the look of all children’s eyes: inquisitive, passionate, innocent. And I came to the conclusion: I see, I do not look, I do not immerse enough, I do not understand, I still do not get it.  At least not yet.

When in reality, I need to look beyond my own pretense and the social status and the hype and see the heart. I need to look beyond me.

I need to look, drink deeply into others.  And in this: I’ve only begun to see.


Five Minute Friday – Race

Hi Again-

I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again…and again. Seems I’m sort of a fan of this weekly writing game, you think?

So, a reminder in case you’ve missed it, here’s what this challenge is all about…or, in case maybe you want to play too, some time-

This is a weekly writing “game”  from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/

So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes, free, like you have no fear or shame or no editor inside your head (all are hard for me)…and then you link up to her blog, and encourage the writer who links up before you.  This last piece is crucial, as we need to encourage others.

Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-

Race

It’s a morning we start with the race out the door, the stop at the gas station, the shoo-shooing of the kids out the car doors and into school, a race before the bell, before the test, before the practice, before dinnertime, after the bath, then the last race into bed.

We do it so easily and yet so clumsily, as though we were orchestrated, this our life as parents to live, our work to do this rushing, while our kids, silent, bemoaning, SLOW, seemingly from another planet trudge through the lessons, the paperwork, the day as if stuck in glue.

What is this whole race about, we wonder quietly, after we’ve had a moment to ponder as we fold the laundry again at midnight, wondering if it’s worth the price we’ve already bargained to pay for with our lives.

What’s the hurry? We steam, we mutter and moan when we are rushed through life’s little moments that are harmed by not enough time, like a friend knocking too early on death’s door; sweet, innocent, new babyhood, only then do we realize life is not so clear-cut as a race, a track, a path, with a finish line, a medal to receive.

What’s the rush, we keep thinking , wondering if indeed life is worthy of complete and total chaos and rushing around.  We wonder, while in slow motion we glance at all the soccer balls, Trapper Keepers and our daughter’s hair sailing past us, molasses in air,  straight into the windshield, while we silently crash into the car in front of us, unaware and yet in a moment, all too aware the time had rushed by and we had missed the signal for stop.

A Better Life

We want a better life for our children, so we work overtime trying to make more money, until hours past sunset, finally at home when they are asleep.

We want a better life for our children, so we enroll them into all the sports and activities we were never good at, and transport them to all the lessons and games, hoping they will be the champions we never were.

We want a better life for our children, so we shove toys and electronics and all things material into their tiny chubby hands, hoping that they will be smarter and more informed than we were.

We want a better life for our children, so we make sure we have ample space, more than enough room than the cramped, small house we grew up in.

We want a better life for our children, so all of hard-earned money goes to new clothes and conveniences, and we forget about the landfills that we’re filling up along the way.

We want a better life for our children, so we teach them the importance of being green, while all we can commit to in regards to being green is just recycling.

We want a better life for our children and want them to be respectful, so we teach them about patience and respect, while they are ignored during dinner while we take a phone call.

We want a better life for our children, so we buy the swing set for the backyard, but sit and stay under the porch while they play because it’s too hot for us to push them on the swing.

We want a better life for our children, so we buy every last trend and little new toy and clothing, so they aren’t made fun of like we were, but we forget to teach them about respect and mercy and hard work.

We want so much more for them, and they, the small they, just want so much more of us.

Five Minute Friday – Grasp

Hi There-

I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again…and again. Seems I’m sort of a fan of this weekly writing game, you think?

And a reminder in case you’ve missed it, here’s what this challenge is all about…or, in case maybe you want to play too, some time-

This is a weekly writing “game”  from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/

So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes, free, like you have no fear or shame or no editor inside your head (both are hard for me)…and then you link up to her blog, and encourage the writer who links up before you.  This last piece is crucial, as we need to encourage others.

Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-

Grasp

Goodness, just thinking about the word knocks the breath out of my lungs.

Grasp-it’s what I strive SO hard to do, to not do, daily.

Grasp for what I want, let go of my daughter’s growing hand.

Grasp for my daughter’s hand, those I dearly love, let go of what I want.

It’s a struggle for control and yet letting go, this daily life.

And so often I think it’s mine to grasp, to hold onto, only after I look down to notice that whatever it is that I’ve held so tightly, I’ve nearly embraced to death.

Like dreams.

Like people.

Like those things in my life I want so badly I fathom to see anything but red when I can’t get them.

And yet, for some reason I clutch tightly again, thinking that this time, I’ll outsmart my grip, I won’t get so wound up or so caught up in what I want.

And then along comes God, looks at my hands, tells me again the parable about the caged bird, and I release.

And then I cry and release, and a thousand birds land on my shoulders.