There's scarcely any positive human touch in my life these days - being without a partner. I do give my son lots of hugs, high-fives, snuggles, and tickles. It's especially sweet when he gives affection back in his own way.
God is the madwoman in the attic.
I'm camped out on the threshold with my journal, camera, and plenty of snacks.
I'm camped out on the threshold with my journal, camera, and plenty of snacks.
Showing posts with label homelife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homelife. Show all posts
Sunday, March 02, 2014
head massage
There's scarcely any positive human touch in my life these days - being without a partner. I do give my son lots of hugs, high-fives, snuggles, and tickles. It's especially sweet when he gives affection back in his own way.
Labels:
color,
divorce,
good questions,
healing,
homelife,
love,
motherhood,
winter
Saturday, March 01, 2014
our other favorite heroine - Merida
As soon as Tangled ends, we put on Brave, and once Brave ends, we're back to Tangled…
Brave appeals to me a little more. At this unsteady cusp of transition in my life, something about Merida's story awakens, inspires, encourages me. Merida knows her mind and her strength. Through a challenging journey she learns compassion and humility and love. Her happily ever after remains to be written; it isn't sealed in the movie with a betrothal. I want a story like that for my next chapter.
We will run and scream
You will dance with me
We'll fulfill our dreams
And we'll be free
We will be who we are
And then heal our scars
Sadness will be far away
"… Mommy, I want to watch Merpunzel, now, please…"
Labels:
antics,
choice,
divorce,
fave quotes,
good questions,
homelife,
hope,
motherhood,
transitions,
winter
Friday, February 21, 2014
our books are here!
Our new books have arrived and I'm very happy to explore them.
It will take some effort on my part to practice what's in the books with Little N,
but the material is there to dive into.
from the Earth Child's Handbook - a moon phases wheel
Lots of activities like mobiles, recipes for clay, paint, and treats, coloring pages, dot-to-dot, and more.

from Peaceful Piggy Meditation - "They try to be loving and kind to all beings."
A gentle story about what meditation creates in a piggy's life
and a couple of exercises to practice meditation with Little N.
from Sitting Still Like a Frog - four faces of big emotions
A good one for me to read about mindfulness
and a CD with some exercises to practice with Little N.
Now to find the nooks and crannies of time for reading and practicing together.
Labels:
choice,
good questions,
homelife,
love,
motherhood,
practice,
ritual,
traditions,
winter
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
raising a spiritually conscious child
I'm perpetually wondering about and wrestling with
how to share the spiritual aspects of life with Little N.
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| no peeking... |
Growing up as an Evangelical Christian, my family did a lot to develop my Christian consciousness. In addition to Sunday worship at church, there was attendance at a Christian elementary school for some years, weekly Pioneer Girls (think Christian Girl Scouts), and nightly Bible stories, prayer, and praise songs before bed. As a teen, Pioneer Girls was replaced with Bible Study and Youth Group. But always there was some group activity and relationships participating in my development.
As an adult, I've largely stepped away from Evangelical Christianity and adopted a more spiritual-but-not-religious approach to my faith, with pagan leanings. This is rich and meaningful to me, but leaves me at a loss, I feel, for how to share a vibrant, lived spirituality with my son. With no community with whom to share this good work, I'm seeking alternatives on my own. To that end, I've ordered the following three books, in hopes for some cues and clues along the way:
I first saw Peaceful Piggy Meditation in a therapist's waiting room and wanted to steal it! (I didn't.) It offered such a simple clear way to start meditating with this totally non-threatening little pig. Piggy makes it look easy, do-able even. I've thought of the book several times since then and finally decided to purchase my own copy to share with Little N.
Sitting Still Like a Frog came up to view as I searched for the Piggy. Written to parents, I'm optimistic that it can be one of my guides in teaching Little N mindfulness, that I hope will help him to manage and process the big emotions that seem to come with Autism. Also, I need help with mindfulness.
A note on Christianity: I feel like I'm recovering from years in Evangelical Christian culture. But that is not the same thing, to me, as the person, life, and message of the Christ. In my spirituality there is plenty of room for meditation, mindfulness, and even pagan awareness in concert with Christ. So while I (try to) remain open to Christianity, the packaging tends to turn me away from it, and makes it hard for me to find open, vibrant, true ways to share Christ with my son. I will say, that Mima sent Little N a Christian book about kindness and he loves it. We read it most nights. It's offered us an excellent place to start.
Labels:
choice,
difference,
good questions,
healing,
homelife,
motherhood,
portrait,
practice,
ritual,
traditions,
transitions
Sunday, February 09, 2014
our current favorite
Little N watches this movie over and over these days. Mommy loves this scene best:
the wiggly tooth
It's been over a year since we lost a tooth around here.
But we've got one wiggling away right now.
We'll keep you posted!
Friday, January 31, 2014
not quite… & yet
I have a few confessions to make.
I've been smoking. Not the half pack a day that I was up to, but, yeah, smoking. Last week I smoked a total of 3 cigarettes all week. I was Awesome! This week I smoked 1 complete pack. I Suck!
And the great success of Little N's new room… not exactly. It's turned into me sleeping on the floor next to his bed, at least until he falls asleep. I usually doze off as well and wake up stiff and achy after a couple hours on the floor, rouse myself enough to get to my room, and fall back to sleep in my own bed.
And my health kick for the new year is more like one massive trigger to overeat. I mean, I have cookies baking in the oven right now and I'm the only one that's going to eat them. I haven't been keeping to any of my health, nutrition, and fitness intentions.
But there's this great little Pagan-Christian hybrid holiday coming up which is perfect for situations like this one I've sunken myself into.
Imbolc (or Candlemas or St. Brigid's Day) is a holiday about recognizing the early signs of spring, the longer reach of sunlight into our days being key among them. I've also observed it as a holiday about human creativity like art and poetry or even entrepreneurial endeavors. Imbolc marks the transition from winter into spring. It is where we step from a season of hibernation into the new season of action. The seeds start stirring in the physical world around us and within the worlds of our own lives.
So, it's a perfect time for me to map out meal plans and grocery lists, set the alarm clock a little earlier for morning workouts, and continue to quit smoking. I set an intention for this year and now that the season of action is upon us, with the encouragement of sunlight and the coming spring to accompany me, I'm trying again. I'm marking out in the physical world a sense of self I claim in my internal world - nonsmoker, healthy, active, engaged, emotionally and spiritually present.
I've been thinking a lot lately of how I feel my emotions in my body. Mostly in my gut but sometimes in my chest or a parched mouth or an aching head…. Of course, I shut that all down with a bag of Doritos or a couple Dove squares or a simple cigarette. I'm thinking about all that presence that I'm avoiding through the way that I treat my body. And I'm wondering if my spirituality is in my body as well. The messages, the inspiration, the prayers, and the presence, is all in my body. How do I want to treat the medium of discernment and meaning in my own life? How do I want to behave and be with the people that I engage with throughout a given day? Coming home to my own emotions and spirituality happens when I come home to and tend my own body.
I lived January as another month of hibernation. Pondering. Experimenting. But not committing to the intentions of my year. Imbolc offers another opportunity and the good company of the natural world to actively participate in my own embodiment physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Labels:
choice,
good questions,
healing,
holiday,
homelife,
office space,
practice,
ritual,
spring,
traditions,
transitions,
winter
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Little N's (re)New(ed) Room
Ever since L moved out, Little N has been sleeping in my room. We made a nest for him next to my bed. It's a clutter of pillows, afghans, plush pals, and random toys (beside my own clutter of afghans, pillows, and pjs). Each night we'd chat, maybe have a story, or I'd simply listen to him talk to himself, processing the events of his day out loud. It was nice to be together that way every evening. But it's been 5 months of having a roommate and now that Little N is 6 (SIX!) it seemed time for him to move back into his own room.
Little N came home from his dad's to this terrific surprise. He loves his "new" room! He immediately wanted me to lower the window blinds so that just the little lights brightened the space. He set to work arranging furniture and had me drag his little red table back in from the living room. Then we played being neighbors, he in his "home" and me in mine - our separate rooms with doors closed for knocking on - and made visits to each other's personal spaces.
I wasn't sure how the first night was going to go. Would he actually sleep in his room alone? We read some books and chatted. I scratched his back. Then he snuggled down into his new nest. He slept soundly through the night and it took great effort to rouse him in the morning. Success.
Labels:
choice,
color,
homelife,
love,
motherhood,
traditions,
winter
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
the final smoke
I smoked my final cigarette today.
Not just the last one in the pack. The last cigarette of my life! I made sure to enjoy it. I sat on a rock by the library and just inhaled, exhaled, watched the smoke circle and dance and the ash flutter in the wind. As health damaging habits go - it was lovely.
I'm working with the recent recognition that my emotions reside in my body. I need to check in with my body to perceive what I'm feeling and where it is in my body. Smoking masks some of that, robbing me not only of physical vitality but emotional vitality as well. I'm bored, sad, tired, stressed, angry, I need to smoke - no! I need to sit with the feeling a minute. Locate it in my body. Jot it down. Carry it gently. Notice if it brings any other news with it.
Some people smoke to lose weight or maintain a slender size. But I wonder if quitting smoking might help in my efforts to lose weight. I'm an emotional eater, just like I'm an emotional smoker, which means I use these devices of food and cigarettes to not feel what I'm feeling. Maybe eliminating one of these methods can start to open me up to how I feel and I can find some other way/s to experience and express the emotions. It's going to take vigilance and some sort of strategy, new tools and practices, habits and behaviors to live in my body and in my feelings. (Thank goodness there's a therapy appointment scheduled for this week….)
Labels:
choice,
color,
good questions,
healing,
homelife,
practice,
ritual,
transitions,
winter,
wish
the joy of duct tape
Mima and I re-cushioned and reupholstered this chair a la blue-flowered
I wish I had a "before" photo of the raggedy old thing but it consisted of
peeling black vinyl and spewed yellowed stuffing.
I recently picked up a day planner for this bright new year.
I loved the layout inside but, ugh, the cover did not thrill me
duck tape to the rescue!
charming, yes? it pleases me to use it everyday.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Thursday, January 09, 2014
I am sad… that Little N has Autism
We had an important meeting this week at Little N's school. It was his Special Ed reevaluation and Individualized Education Plan meeting where the school psychologist and Little N's teacher and in-school therapists discuss his current scores on their examinations of him with us, his parents. We also planned the goals for his next year of school. It was an in-my-face discussion of all the places where Little N continues to fall behind peers his age.
I was anxious and preoccupied leading up to the meeting. When we first received the notice for reevaluation I was nervous. Little N was thriving in the Special Ed class, what if they wanted to pull him out of it! Then we received his report card. Little N was scoring below average in most areas of the report. What if he never got out of Special Ed? What if he could never hold a job, make friends, offer compassion to someone… the fears and questions took over.
During the meeting, I took notes on all of Little N's challenges. They are painful to me. It's as if Autism gets in his way of being him. But then I also try to be pro-Neurodiversity. I try to acknowledge and accept and advocate that there are many ways of being, perceiving, and expressing oneself in the world. We've got a smattering of typical, acceptable ways to be in society but kids like Little N reveal more of what's possible. Autism doesn't necessarily get in the way of him being him; it's part of him being him and part of what he offers his family, classmates, teachers, future employers, and all the folks that come in contact with him.
I put a good face on it on Facebook. And it was a good meeting. Little N is a joy to work with. Each one of the experts in the room repeated that in one form or another. They enjoy working with him. He's eager, playful, fun, retains what he's learned, makes excellent progress. And... he scores below average on all of their tests.
I brought all of this to my much-loved therapist. "I'm sad," I told her. She murmured understanding. Then she asked me, "How sad do you feel?" I couldn't answer. I need time to sit with myself and just feel all the emotions tangled up in my son's Autism. She could have said, "It's not all about you." But she didn't. Because my feelings about my son's challenges are about me. I'm allowed to feel sad sometimes, even as I get to be encouraging and curious and supportive a lot of the time.
I have some sense of where the sadness comes from. My grief that the perfect, typical boy I thought I had is gone, along with all my unarticulated dreams and expectations for him. My memory of the close relationship between grades and self esteem: A means I'm awesome, D means I'm dumb. What could "below average" possibly mean in that matrix? My fear of the world out there, of cliques and cruelty, where there is very little room for someone different. My pervasive doubt that I can in any way equip him for that world and the challenges that await him there.
It was a good meeting. Little N is a joy, to me and to his team. He is making progress that all of us can see and celebrate. Someday he will be mainstreamed into a general ed classroom. I have reinforcements in the form of his team, and even those dreaded reports, to help me teach him the tools he needs for the days ahead. All of this is true at the same time that my sadness is true.
I was anxious and preoccupied leading up to the meeting. When we first received the notice for reevaluation I was nervous. Little N was thriving in the Special Ed class, what if they wanted to pull him out of it! Then we received his report card. Little N was scoring below average in most areas of the report. What if he never got out of Special Ed? What if he could never hold a job, make friends, offer compassion to someone… the fears and questions took over.
During the meeting, I took notes on all of Little N's challenges. They are painful to me. It's as if Autism gets in his way of being him. But then I also try to be pro-Neurodiversity. I try to acknowledge and accept and advocate that there are many ways of being, perceiving, and expressing oneself in the world. We've got a smattering of typical, acceptable ways to be in society but kids like Little N reveal more of what's possible. Autism doesn't necessarily get in the way of him being him; it's part of him being him and part of what he offers his family, classmates, teachers, future employers, and all the folks that come in contact with him.
I put a good face on it on Facebook. And it was a good meeting. Little N is a joy to work with. Each one of the experts in the room repeated that in one form or another. They enjoy working with him. He's eager, playful, fun, retains what he's learned, makes excellent progress. And... he scores below average on all of their tests.
I brought all of this to my much-loved therapist. "I'm sad," I told her. She murmured understanding. Then she asked me, "How sad do you feel?" I couldn't answer. I need time to sit with myself and just feel all the emotions tangled up in my son's Autism. She could have said, "It's not all about you." But she didn't. Because my feelings about my son's challenges are about me. I'm allowed to feel sad sometimes, even as I get to be encouraging and curious and supportive a lot of the time.
I have some sense of where the sadness comes from. My grief that the perfect, typical boy I thought I had is gone, along with all my unarticulated dreams and expectations for him. My memory of the close relationship between grades and self esteem: A means I'm awesome, D means I'm dumb. What could "below average" possibly mean in that matrix? My fear of the world out there, of cliques and cruelty, where there is very little room for someone different. My pervasive doubt that I can in any way equip him for that world and the challenges that await him there.
It was a good meeting. Little N is a joy, to me and to his team. He is making progress that all of us can see and celebrate. Someday he will be mainstreamed into a general ed classroom. I have reinforcements in the form of his team, and even those dreaded reports, to help me teach him the tools he needs for the days ahead. All of this is true at the same time that my sadness is true.
Labels:
autism spectrum disorder,
difference,
good questions,
grief,
healing,
homelife,
love,
motherhood,
school
Sunday, January 05, 2014
replenish
Little N goes to his dad's on Saturday afternoon and stays overnight, giving me time to catch up on all the things that are hard to do with a Little N claiming my attention. Bills get paid, housework done, and little pockets of time for me to replenish me. A friend planted the thought in my mind about the grace mothers extend to themselves. I think carving out time for our own replenishment, in the midst of competing demands from our littles, is one of the ways that we practice grace for ourselves as mothers.
![]() |
| Why, yes, they do make coloring books for grown-ups. |
The busyness of my days is how I secure the first level needs of home and hearth for me and Little N. The pauses come when he's over at his dad's place. And the soul time? I almost prefer housework to soul work these days; it's finite and achievable as opposed to the other thing.
But I've also been reading and thinking a lot about mothering as a spiritual practice. About the unity of sacred and mundane. And I think the difference between these two spheres and/or the sameness they share arises from the intention we bring to our mundane work of home and hearth and parenting and pause.
Can I retain calm with Little N when he ever-so-deliberately pees all over the floor? Not super likely, but I'm working on it. Can I maintain a focus-in-the-moment in the overwhelming heap of laundry to be folded? Sometimes. Can I release my mind from the trainload of concerns and emotions while filling in coloring pages? Getting there, once I turn off the soothing distractions of Netflix.
I'm not sure why sitting with my soul is challenging to me right now. But I do believe that if I bring the intention of soul work to my tasks and to my pauses they will be soulful.
ack! but now Little N is home and my pause is ended… can I practice soulful presence in the rest of the day's parenting? :-)
Labels:
choice,
color,
good questions,
homelife,
hope,
motherhood,
practice
Thursday, December 26, 2013
dreams in storage… for 2014
I read somewhere that "excess weight is dreams in storage"
Here are some of the dreams I'm working to realize in the coming year:
- Hosting half-day retreats for busy women.
- This will be a joint venture with a good friend who is a Spiritual Director. We've got lots of ideas! Now to set them into motion.
- Experiencing my emotions in healthier ways.
- As in, not overeating and smoking as a way to deal with how I feel. Maybe journal them - even jotting a couple notes in my day-planner during a work day, taking a walk, going to the spa, talking about my feelings with the much-loved-therapist.
- Practice healthful habits - that also promote weight loss.
- So, eating nutritiously, not overeating, walking, jogging, yoga, tending my body with love, all kinds of good stuff that used to be my own good habits.
- Develop a good divorce and shared parenting with L.
- We will begin drafting a Parenting Plan this evening.
- Resume writing.
- Starting with a regular journalling practice and maybe changing how & how often I write here on the blog.
Maybe not so much the big public dreams of success and recognition but significant to me in terms of living a vibrant, positive, authentic life. And each of these areas have contributed to my weight gain. As I've slipped away from parts of who I am, and the good habits that embody them, I've turned to crummy habits like emotional eating and smoking and avoidance. As I return again to who I am and how I want to express myself, I choose healthy habits to make even daily life a more true expression. And there are the more public dreams, like writing and hosting retreats, where what I believe and how I live will be more visible.
Labels:
choice,
color,
divorce,
good questions,
healing,
homelife,
portrait,
practice,
traditions,
transitions,
winter
Sunday, December 08, 2013
self portrait Sunday: overwhelm
plumbing repairs throughout our apartment building have rendered some
holes in the ceiling, layers of dust, sniffles, inconvenience and rearranged stuff in our little home.
kiddo doesn't seem to mind, and chimes right in adding his own mayhem to the mix
"Mommy, I'm an Angry Bird!"
the Christmas tree is up, a little beacon of love, light, and hope
Little N's daddy showed up with wrapped presents to add to the festiveness
(a few more things for the workmen to navigate and coat with dust)
my table is a clutter-magnet with forms to complete, bills to pay, correspondence to reply to, documents to file or shred and general "where should this go? drop it on the table for now…" mess
which is to say I'm tired and overwhelmed and nothing is perfect or tidy or at my fingertips and everything looks like another chore to do or simply out of my control
and all these projects feel like dead ends in the labyrinth to what I really want to be doing,
the good work that my heart would really be in, some heartfelt vocation beyond
day-job, housework, parenting, sanity
but Little N is happy and oblivious to Mommy's drama
L and I have called a truce (again), so maybe we'll be able to talk to each other
without it exploding into harsh voices and an upset Little N,
there's fresh coffee brewing,
and plenty of places to start in making things right in my little world and plenty to let go of.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
self portrait Sunday
I've been away from this space for a while. And while I sort of miss it, my real life is calling for my attention a little more intensely right now and not allowing as much time for an on-line life. Holidays plus divorcing have rendered a little more stress and transitioning than I had initially anticipated. So please keep us in mind as one of those families navigating big changes and big feelings this season.
In the spirit of gratitude I also want to give thanks for a fun, funny, and productive visit with Mima (my mom) over the week of Thanksgiving. Little N got lots of attention and did some new creative projects with her while I was at the office Monday - Wednesday. She cleaned, organized, and supplemented my kitchen with new cookware. We had about one day to ourselves for more household projects that I never would have gotten to on my own. I am so grateful to have had another adult around, one who loves my Little N, and with whom I can work on projects pretty darn smoothly.
Labels:
divorce,
fall,
gratitude,
holiday,
homelife,
motherhood,
portrait,
traditions,
transitions
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