love like dancing

I do a really good job sharing the not-so-glamourous moments in motherhood. I complain about the lack of sleep. The toddler chasing. The inability to keep ANYTHING clean for longer than a minute.

But I don't do a good job sharing all the moments that feel like maybe I'm the luckiest person on the planet.

I had one of these moments the other night.

It was almost bedtime. David was grilling on the deck. It was too early to put Milo in the tub and begin our bedtime routine, but I was too tired from the day to read Ten Little Ladybugs or really do anything meaningful and productive.

Milo crawled over to the stereo and pushed open the tape deck. (Yep, we still have a tape deck) He pulled out the tape and it looked like he might pull the ribbon out.

I rushed over to take it from him. And discovered it was an old Dixie Chicks tape.

I decided to put it back in the tape deck and rewind it to my favorite song. (OMG, remember rewinding???)

Dixie Chicks started singing their rendition of "Landslide."

I took my love and I took it down

Climbed a mountain then I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Well the landslide brought me down.

My baby, the one-who-never-stops-moving, held still. Completely still.

And listened.

And then he crawled over to me. And up into my lap. And sat still some more.

So I sang along in his ear.

Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

And he looked at me and he smiled.

So I picked him up. And we started dancing.

Me singing. Him bouncing on my hip and clutching my shoulder.

Me singing. Him listening.

Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get older

I'm getting older too

Me singing. Him listening.

Me smiling. Him smiling.

Us dancing.

And it was such a sweet, sweet, sweet moment.

When it felt right. Like everything I had ever wanted was here on my hip in the living room.

Like my heart was so big with love it might explode.

Like being a mama was such a perfect and holy gift, I wasn't sure I even deserved it.

So take this love and take it down

And if you see my reflection

In the snow covered hills

Well maybe....

Well maybe....

Well maybe...

doula school

I did it! I'm registered for doula school!

Ok, it's not really called "doula school," but I like calling it that.

I signed up to attend a birth doula training workshop at the end of October. I can't tell you how excited I am about this.

And also, how much I love this guy:

Why, you ask?

Well, there are too many reasons to count. But, for ONE, he is super supportive of my seemingly crazy ideas.

(2006)

Me: I think I want to move to Colorado and go to seminary.

Him: I think that sounds awesome. I always knew you would go to seminary someday.

(2008)

Me: I want to go to Arizona and walk around the desert and fill up water stations for migrants.

Him: Wow. That will be a big adventure. I know how passionate you are about this issue.

(2009)

Me: I think I want to go to Palestine and hang out with Palestinian shepherds and stuff.

Him: Yikes. That sounds scary. I will really worry about you. But you should definitely go.

(2011)

Me: I think I want to train for a half-marathon. Oh, and I want to fly to California to run it.

Him: You can TOTALLY run a half-marathon. I believe in you. And a vacation in California? Let's do it!

And now...

Me: I know I have a teaching degree AND a degree from seminary. But I think I want to be certified as a doula. I have no idea if anyone will ever hire me to be at their birth, but I really want to try it.

Him: You'd be a fabulous doula. Here's one billion dollars to cover the registration fee. (Ok, it's not really one billion dollars, but it's a lot of money for something that might never work out...)

Seriously. I love this guy. And I'm grateful he is big enough and loves me enough to let me evolve. I hope I can do the same for him.

to blog? or not to blog?

I've lost my blogging groove.

I can't decide if I should keep blogging or not. Like maybe this blog (which I started when we moved to Colorado) is ready to be done. Maybe I should seal it up and tuck it away. Call it good. It doesn't seem to fit me anymore, and I don't know why.

Until I decide, here's what's been going on:

*Milo is humongous. And a full-fledged toddler. Except he's not walking yet. So maybe that means he's not really a toddler, but he definitely toddles. He makes an "oh" face whenever he hears something that surprises him--usually a dog barking or a car driving by.

His favorite things, in no particular order, are: balls (of any kind), cars, fake flowers, light switches, fans, door stoppers, climbing up on the fireplace, anything in the pantry that he can pull off the shelves, the dog bowls, mum mums, and eating off my plate.

His least favorite things, in no particular order, are: napping, getting his diaper changed, getting dressed, having his face washed after he eats, teething, and going inside when he'd rather be outside.

He keeps us busy, for sure.

Oh, and he says "da da." It's adorable. David will come up the steps or walk in the door and he'll cry out "Da Da!" Makes your heart skip a beat. He still isn't saying ma ma. That's fine. I'm not holding a grudge. It's cool. I only grew him in my own body and then spent 38 hours birthing him. Nope. No hard feelings here.

*David's job is ok. He doesn't love it, but he doesn't hate it. Him working nights is hard on him and me.

*My job is great. It's unfolding in a really lovely and exciting way. It makes me wonder when I will finally let go of teaching--once and for all--and walk faithfully into what is developing for me. I'm not there yet, but I can feel my grip getting looser.

*My running is coming along. I'm up to 5 miles. The race is two months from tomorrow. Holy mother.

I guess that's it. Let me know if you find my blogging "mojo"....

right now

I haven't been blogging. Right now, we're busy. Adjusting. Again.

I started work as the Associate of Discipleship Ministries at our church in Olathe on August 7th.

I. love. it.

I love my co-workers. I love my bosses. I love the work I'm doing. I love seeing familiar faces we left 4 years ago. I love seeing new faces. And, confession time, I love being away from my baby for 20 hours a week. I wasn't sure I could do it. But I LOVE the mornings that I wake up, shower, and GO TO WORK WITHOUT THE BABY. Plus, now that I am away from him more regularly, it makes the time I AM with him that much sweeter.

I'm working at both sites, our big church and the Center of Grace where they offer community meals, a clothing closet, ESL, and afterschool tutoring. Right now, my work at the Center is undefined. My supervisor is giving me time to grow into the work. To get to know the place. To let the work I'm supposed to do find ME. (I know, right? This job is really too good to be true...)

Even though it's good, I like to find things to worry about. Like my never-ending agony about whether or not to be ordained. Or whether I might someday return to public schools to teach. But right now, it's good.

Also, I'm in week 2 of training for my half marathon. My training right now looks like this:

*An "easy" run twice a week. Right now, my easy run is 2 miles. And, by golly, it IS getting easy to run two miles!

*A "long" run on Saturdays. Right now, my long run is 3 miles. Next Saturday, it will be 4 miles. And so on.

*Rest, stretch, walk on my "off days."

I need to stretch more. My hamstrings are freakishly inflexible which makes my lower back sore if I don't stretch. And also my abs have been sore. Yes, sore abs from running. David says it's because my ab muscles separated when I was pregnant to make space for the baby and that it takes time for ab muscles to "grow" back together. Ick. Seriously, add "ab muscle separation" to the list of things nobody told me before I got pregnant.

I worry about how I'll ever get up to 13 miles. But, I trust it will happen. Running is teaching me that things take time. Right now, I can run 3 miles. And that's 3 miles more than I WAS running before I signed up for this race.

Also, we're still living at my mom's. The tapes in my head like to tell me this makes me a loser. That we SHOULD have our own house.

But, honestly? Right now, it's pretty great.

We are taking advantage of the opportunity to save money & pay off student loan debt. People ask us how long we'll live here and we don't know how to answer. We say, right now, it's working.

That's it in a nutshell. For right now anyway.

lily

3 weeks ago, I had the honor & privilege of being present at my "niece's" birth. It was a day I won't soon forget.

Last week, I returned to Arkansas and spent some time with my soul-sister and her new little family. It was SO special to see her as a new mama. She's amazing!

And Lily? Well, I'm in love.

should-ing all over myself

Milo is napping and there are so many things I should be doing.

I should be loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

I should be steaming more green vegetables for him to eat.

I should be running.

I should be showering.

I should call my friend I haven't talked to in awhile.

I should be paying bills.

I should finish writing thank-you notes for Milo's birthday gifts.

I should. I should. I should.

Confession: It isn't just when Milo is napping that I feel the shoulds. Lately, I've been hearing a lot of shoulds.

I should be more excited to start my new job.

I should be better with money.

I should be more frugal.

I should be more generous.

I should be nicer to my dogs. I should walk them more.

I should be more attentive when my husband tells me about work.

I should be more engaged when Milo is awake.

I should be tidier. Less messy. More organized.

I should eat better.

I should exercise more.

I should be more involved with what's going on in the "real" world. I should have written my congress person about the debt ceiling.

I should live in my own house.

I should have more friends.

I should be more grateful.

I should be different.

More.

Better.

Yes, it has been a good ole should shitstorm in my mind lately.

(See, I just told myself I should not say "shit" on a blog my mother reads...)

It feels really icky.

And I don't want to live like that.

Something I've noticed? When I feel really critical of others, it's mostly because I'm feeling really critical of myself.

I don't want to live like that either.

I want to find space where it's silent. Where the shoulds are quiet. Where there is no judgment.

One of the 2.3 billion reasons that being a mama is scary is because if I don't get MY shoulds under control, then I will start to should my son. I can feel it already. He should be walking. He should be weaned already. He should know more words.

I don't want that for him. And I can't make space for Milo to be himself, just as he is, if I can't also make space for myself. Just as I am.

Before we left Denver, a friend of mine gave me a gift. A book called There is Nothing Wrong with You.

Sounds self-helpy? Yes, my friend thinks so too. And told me so. And so I didn't read it because I should not need self-help books.

But, I've started reading it. And I love it. It's written by Cheri Huber, founder of the Zen Monastery Peace Center in California and Living Compassion, a nonprofit dedicated to peace and service.

I'll say more as I read more, but here's what I'm repeating to myself today: "If you had a person in your life treating you the way you treat yourself, you would have gotten rid of them a long time ago..."

training::day one::epic fail

I had psyched myself up to start training today. I was going to run 2 miles. If you read my last post, you know that 2 miles is double what I can comfortably run.

David was feeding the baby breakfast.

I put on my running shoes and my ratty running clothes. (Seriously, I think my sports bra is from my college days.)

I discovered that my ipod wasn't charged. No worries. I plugged in my mac and pulled up my "run" playlist.

I made it 1 minute and 53 seconds into my run before the belt on the treadmill broke.

I can't run outside because it's only 8 AM and already 1 gazillion degrees.

Day one: epic fail.

*Updated: I put the baby down for a nap and discovered it wasn't THAT hot out yet. I walked one lap around my neighborhood. Not great, but something!*