The magic (in the mess). ♡ – Page 4

It could always be worse.

03/20/2020 No Comments

I am now working from home. My work is navigating us doing our jobs remotely for the first time ever, as I don’t think they ever thought it would get to this stage. It’s a bit of a mess, but I’m home.

D is also working from home. It’s an easier feat for him, thankfully.

We are additionally keeping O home with us until the shit storm that is covid19 blows over.

But, if you don’t do screen time with your kid, how the eff do you work from home with said kid and survive? Make a schedule, have activities set up that you don’t have to man — those parts I get. But he’s a preschooler who doesn’t always appeal to logic, and wants us to play with him and be present and we cant ’cause WORK EMAILS ^ 3894792374.

Additionally, if you have no office space whatsoever to accommodate working from home, and one of you is stuck on the couch (me /weep), how do the ergonomics of your body possibly survive?

It could always be worse (I could still be on the floor in ECE right now), but I did not fully think of these things. My back hurts. I’m worried about my kid.

Working from home lunches are superbly more tasty, however.

There is that.

Perhaps that alone will get me though…

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

True north.

12/01/2019 No Comments

There are about a million and a half things I didn’t realize before becoming a mom. Each of which I feel I could write books about if I ever found the will, want and time. Side note: the arrow points to unlikely.

One of these things has me deep in reflection on the day after having now been a mother for four years. (Happy birthday, my bug!). I get odd urges in these moments of reflection to have to write, to make sense of and to hash out. If I don’t, my head won’t shut up.

Here’s the thing.

Before being a mom, or for those who choose not to be a mom, there are things which guide your choices and that move you through the day. Desire, motivation, ambition, necessity — these are but a few of the many.

But a part of you in this regard fundamentally changes in motherhood. You still have those same drivers, but they are now grounded to your child. It’s as if they are now your compass, your dowsing rod, and your true north.

Everything, and I mean everything I do, considers my child. The benefits to, the repercussions of, the impact to, the growth from. It’s instinctual, automatic and dug in deep into these bones.

I don’t think this is the whole “becoming more selfless” of motherhood thing that people sometimes rag childless people on. I’ve never agreed with that, anyways. I know plenty of selfless, childless, wonderful people.

It’s more than that. It’s like the part of your body that formed your kid hasn’t ever fully separated from you. It’s grown into who your child is today, and it becomes such an inseparable, huge piece of you that you feel it in your utter core. It’s still you, but it’s also not, it’s more than you – and that more than you?

It bewitches you. It envelopes, it consumes, it sets your heart afloat, and it begs you not to fuck this up. It reckons, it’s a merciless relenting of love and letting go, and it refuses to go unanswered in anything and everything you do. It’s in your every thought and your every choice.

It is your new bearing, and from it, you start anew from the very foundation of doing you.

I was not ready for this. I did not expect this. But, I am here for this. 💚⁣ ⁣

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Is this how mom’s workout?

09/07/2019 No Comments

Introducing my, “If you want to watch TV, you’ve gotta walk while you do it” corner. This has also been paired with making better choices with what I eat. I’m trying to move more and eat smarter. I’m 8 weeks in.⠀
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I’m not doing this to purposely diet or loose a ton of weight (though it wouldn’t hurt), but to find a balance. To feel better internally. To live longer for my kid. To not want to die when I have to walk up the steps at work. (Note: it’s helping!). ⠀
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Pairing an iPad to the treadmill has helped make it a pretty flawless experience for me, and that’s why I’m posting this. A lot of the time I forget that I’m exercising, even while trying to keep a brisk pace. As a result I exercise more, I watch less TV (‘cause let’s be real), and I read more outside of it. ⠀
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But, I now need from you guys suggestions of *REALLY AMAZINGLY GOOD* shows to treadmill-binge on Netflix as I’m about to run out of series I can count on. So, lay ‘em on me! Though nothing too scary (I’m a wuss) or funny, cause I about killed myself laughing by almost falling off the treadmill when watching the last season of Orange is the New Black. Whoops.

[Featured], Mental Health, Motherhood, Respectful Parenting, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Fumbling towards.

08/21/2019 No Comments

I’m trying to make sense of who I am as a mom. Still.

I don’t really know what this making sense looks like, tastes like, or feels like to wear against the skin of my arms, but I keep trying to reach forward into the realm of mom identities and find something to latch onto.

I’m not the crunchy mom. Not the boss mom. Not the Pinterest/crafty mom. Not the helicopter mom. Not the wine mom. Not the perfect mom. Definitely not the cool mom.

There is nothing wrong with any of these moms, I’m just not them.

In this attempting to make sense of my mom identity, I’m doing something I try hard to not do to anyone else. I’m labeling myself, and admittedly masking it as attempt to try to figure out where I fit. I’m taking a square and pushing it into the round hole of mom identities, and expecting to meet my deliverance.

These walls are too thick.

I guess I could be a wannabe minimalist mom. An RIE mom (on my good days). An obviously plus sized mom. A boring/little too honest mom. Kinda the hot mess mom. A “reads too much and really loves sleep and chocolate” mom.

Or, in any case, the sum of those moms.

But what lies in the lingering and claiming/writing/marinating of such mom identity(s)? Is there sense to uncover? Ease to be found? Will I be less of a foggy mess and more (wiggles fingers *magically*) “with purpose”?

Side note: will blogging in this bloody thing become not be such a forgetful, directionless conquest?

Or in claiming something, anything, on this mothering journey, and trying to fit into it — will it only further lead to my own bewildered, dazzling confusion?

Perhaps this making sense… it is more than a label. More than a type. More than a niche.

Perhaps it is simply settling on where I find myself smiling in this mothering journey, and letting that be the sense and the identity that I need.

I don’t know. But I’m fumbling. It is a peaceful, awkward tumble. I’m reaching towards and casting away. Eventually, I’ll land.

Motherhood, The magic (in the mess). ♡

You always will be.

07/01/2019 No Comments

7 years married, 11.5 years together. ⁣

D, I have no idea how you continue to love me, support me and put up with me. Truly. It baffles me.⁣
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We’ve changed a lot these past years — and not always in the same direction. We’ve given each other the space and the love we needed to find ourselves among such change, however. We’ve experienced the reckoning that is having a kid, and how to put the pieces back together of our marriage and our identities in its wake. We’ve loved, we’ve struggled, we’ve worked hard, and we’ve refused to give up. ⁣
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We are entwined. Deeply. These roots are infallible. We might not always see eye to eye, and sure, we make each other a little crazy, but you are my home. I know not myself or my life without you. ⁣
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And you’re still the one.

You always will be. 💚⁣ ⁣