Mama Power

"His love for me, reflected in his eyes and bubbling over in his laugh, is one of his many superpowers. My love for him is my mama power."

My mini essay on Mama Power was published as part of Tribe Magazine's Power in Motherhood series.

Making a Mess

This month’s theme in The Year of Creativity is Perspective and we’ve been talking a lot about making messes in our writing. In my perfectionist, Type A world, messes and writing shouldn’t be in the same sentence. I was never allowed to make a mess with writing. There have always been rules, guidelines, a wrong way and right way. Grammar, spelling, sentence structure, and two spaces after a period. Book reports and research papers had specific formats that were expected to be followed. Even through my college Literature classes every sentence was painfully thought out and researched to perfection.

I never gave myself permission to make a mess.

I’m realizing that this is why it took me so long to start writing. I was always afraid of the jumble of words not coming out sounding or looking right. I thought they needed to be perfect the first time they left my mind, but of course they don’t.

So since this truth bomb was dropped on me earlier this month, I’ve been making messes all over the place. I’m experimenting with styles and perspectives. I’m writing with an actual pen and paper. I’m trying not to think about what’s coming out...and just letting it come.

It’s not all pretty and some of it may end up deleted, in the trash, burned, or buried. It would be easy for me to say that what comes out of the trash is what’s important, but I think what’s in the trash is equally so. If I’m not willing to make a mess, there’s a chance I could miss a lot of good stuff.

For some inspiration on how to get messy in your writing, art, work, or life in general check out these articles:

The Importance of Play: On Finding Joy In Your Writing Practice

3 Activities to Play with When Perfectionism Stalls Your Project

Reclaim Your Creative Confidence

A Collection of Short Poems

I hold strong⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

But not too tight⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Letting you tell me⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

When it's time⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

To let go a little more⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Letting you tell me⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

When you are ready⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

To catch the wind⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

And fly⠀

_________________________

Blue eyes so young and deep

Full of life and hope 

Still undimmed by hurt

I wish I could keep them that way⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Blue eyes so young and deep

Full of promise and future 

Still learning about what you see

I wish I could capture it all⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Blue eyes so young and deep

_________________________

Inbetween the days, we grow⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Inbetween the nights, we change⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Inbetween the smiles, we remember ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

Inbetween the cries, we learn ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

In-between the bruises, we get stronger⠀⠀⠀ 

Inbetween it all, we love

To the Toddler Mom in the Deep End

Hey you, yeah you, the mama over there with the toddler that just got out of the pool and is running for the exit. I see you. I see you chasing him and telling him he can’t leave without you. I see you as he yells and twists out of your grasp until you’re just hanging on to a kicking leg. I see the anger and desperation in your eyes.

I see you.

For you motherhood was like stepping into a slightly chilly pool. Uncomfortable and unknown at times, but you always stayed where you could touch. Your head was always above the water and postpartum was more of a high than a low. You loved being a mom from day one and even though there were a few waves in the beginning the waters soon smoothed and warmed. Your baby adjusted effortlessly through developmental stages and you didn’t really relate to the mom-talk of regressions and overwhelming sleep deprivation. For a good two years you floated along with a smile on your face and a tiny bit of a chip on your shoulder. Maybe you just got lucky or maybe God had mercy on you because he knew what was coming.

Toddlerhood threw you right in the deep end where the warm water has turned to ice. You are flailing and choking and you can’t get a grip on the edge. You weren’t ready for the battle of wills, the screaming, and the talking back. You don’t know how to respond when he won’t follow a simple command like putting on his clothes. He wants to brush his teeth himself but gets mad at you when he can’t get the cap off of the toothpaste. When you give him the wrong cup at dinner he acts like you killed the dog. He uses the toilet at school but refuses to even sit on the one at home.  “Because I don’t want to” is his favorite phrase and you’re tempted to have it tattooed on him. You’re not confident in your discipline methods because nothing seems to work. He can sense this weakness and so he doesn’t take you seriously. You resort to having your partner be the bad guy. You feel inadequate and it’s pulling you under.

I see you and you’re not alone. I’m here too.

So what do we do? We remember that the little terrors we see in front of us today were not always and will not always be. We try to think about how the world looks to them as they try to figure out. We give them the space, options, and tools they need to express themselves. We hold on tight to the sweet moments, like when they tell you about their day in their two-year old vocabulary, give you an unexpected kiss, or laugh hysterically at something you never thought was funny before.

We can claw our way out together. I’ll give you a boost and you can pull me up. Rumor is that moms do survive this, and they’re waiting for us under the umbrellas with words of encouragement, war stories, and wine. 

A Thank You Letter to 2016

Thank you 2016...

For showing me I’m braver than I ever thought I could be.  It takes a special kind of crazy to move thousands of miles away from everything you’ve ever known, to start over when you thought you were pretty planted, and to have faith that it’s the right thing.

For giving me confidence.  The older I get, the more I feel my confidence building and in this thirty-third year it took on skyscraper status. Between the move, new relationships, and my changed role at work, I feel as confident in myself as I ever have.

For helping me define my spiritual, social, and political beliefs. This also probably has something to do with age (and a lot to do with the election season), but this year I wrestled with and pinned down many things that before I had just accepted or dismissed.

For pushing me to let my words out into the world. 2016 is the birthday of my writing self. It was when I finally gave in to that small but annoying voice that kept urging me to put the keys to the Word file, even when the louder and more forceful voice was telling me I couldn’t do it. 

For giving me more time.  Our life here is laid back and go with the flow. We have little or no commute, eat dinner at 6 every night, and have left behind the stresses of trying to do everything and be everyone. We have more time to be a family and to be ourselves.

Thank you 2016 for being a year of newness, exploration, and discovery.

The Pain In The Feeling

“What if pain—like love—is just a place brave people visit?”

— GLENNON DOYLE MELTON, LOVE WARRIOR: A MEMOIR

The other day I spent the majority of the afternoon in bed. I wasn’t sick or physically tired but emotionally I was exhausted. The week had caught up with me and by the time Sunday was here, my heart and my head had enough. And so I let the pillows, blankets, and hum of traffic wrap me in their protective space, and for the first time all week I let myself feel. I cried out my worries, confusion, and pain. I cried myself to sleep and then cried some more, but by the time I left my bed I felt renewed. Those things that I cried over were no longer such a burden on my heart. 

Read more over at The Village Magazine. 

The Climb

When my son started crawling we lived in a tri-level house with two sets of stairs. There were no easy ways to gate them, so we didn’t. Like most babies, he was magnetically drawn to the steps, his curiosity and drive to climb to the top was pretty unstoppable. We let him explore, taught him how to slide down on his tummy, and made sure we were always behind him in case he faltered.

****

We all start at the bottom, looking up at the challenges and achievements of each step. Some of us are unsure of the climb and lack the confidence to make it up the first stair. Our paths to accomplishments are filled with obstacles. A broken step, or a loose railing. Our journey isn’t easy and each success is hard-earned, one stair at a time.

Read more over at The Village Magazine.