Top 10 Posts

To celebrate making it to 100 blog posts, I present my top ten favorite posts so far.

If you have a favorite, please share it on Facebook, Twitter, etc by clicking one of the (nearly invisible) icons below. Perhaps by my 200th post, I will have figured out how to make more noticeable share buttons. A girl can dream...

Enjoy!

10.Swimming Lessons (self-explanatory title)

9. Nalu (the puppy)

8. Over the Rainbow (the baby)

7. Yoga for the Mind (poetry)

6. If You Know How to Worry (using worrying to your advantage)

5. I Wrote a Book (writing)

4. Another Little Rincon of My Heart (surf adventures)

3. My Mexico (A Mexican wedding with my son)

2. Grandmom (love, gratitude and grief)

And my all-time favorite, about my interaction with childhood crush from NKOTB:

1. Donnie Wahlberg

A Year Without Resolutions?

January 2. Time for New Year’s Resolutions, right? Maybe not. The past few years I have made very simple resolutions. One year it was to have more fun; one year to dance more; one year to become more active. As I contemplated goals and resolutions for 2012, I thought I might try something different this year, inspired by two blogs I love.

On Zen Habits, Leo writes about giving up goals. This idea makes me uneasy. Isn’t conventional wisdom that unless you have a goal, you will not achieve it? Leo claims you can achieve just as much, maybe more, without goals.

In that spirit, I thought rather than making goals for 2012, I could use a process I found on another blog I love, The Fluent Self. Havi has a practice of saying hello to each month. I used some of her prompts to say hello to the last few months of 2011, and found it so helpful, I’m doing it for 2012 too. I like it because it’s a way of having intentions about a month (or year) while staying open to what comes.

Here are some prompts to consider if you want to say hello to 2012.

How I would like to describe 2012

How I would like to remember 2012

What I am looking forward to

What I am feeling anxious about

What I would like to give 2012

What I would like to receive

And because I can't quite give up resolutions, I have still made one very simple one, which is to focus on staying in the moment more.

How do you approach a new year?

Grumpy Christmas to You

For the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling Grinchy. Scroogy. Un-Christmassy. Yes, there’s the clinical depression, which I’m pretty sure is the opposite of merry, but it’s been more than that. I’ve been reacting to this idea that because it’s Christmas, and Daniel’s First Christmas, that I should feel a certain way. And then I’ve been feeling worse, because I’m not overcome with joy and Christmas spirit.

So the other day, I acknowledged to myself that I was grumpy about Christmas, that I didn’t care, didn’t want to participate, and resented the whole thing. I talked about it with some friends, and accepted that’s where I was. I gave myself permission to be grumpy. I remembered Fr. Meehan, a very special priest who died this year, saying in a Christmas homily, “We come to Christmas as we are.” I love that idea, and I’ve held onto it for years. Because sometimes, on special days, what we feel is sad, or lonely, or depressed. And then we can feel worse because we’re not supposed to feel those things on Christmas. But sometimes we do. More and more, life seems to me full of the bittersweet. For me, acknowledging and accepting the bitter helps me to enjoy the sweet.

The lovely Claire, after listening to my holiday rant yesterday, hugged me as she left and said, “Merry Christmas,” and then corrected herself, “Or Grumpy Christmas. Whatever Christmas you want to have.” Talking with her reminded me that Christmas, like anything else, is what we make it. I can’t make myself feel joyful, but I can focus on the positive. What I really want for Christmas this year is to enjoy the real gifts of my life. To be in the present, with Daniel, seeing him kick his legs in his high chair as he eats, listening to him testing out his voice, watching him inch around the floor, warming up for crawling. He is my Christmas miracle, every day.

I hope you all enjoy the real gifts of your life this Christmas. And if you're still feeling grumpy, that's okay too.

The Best Advice

What's the best advice you've received recently? I've implemented two game changers in the past month. One is to make coffee the night before. So simple, and it makes such a positive difference in my morning.

Find the other here.

The Bright Side

Since my pregnancy, I’ve been collecting thoughts about mothering and writing. Two ideas have stayed with me as talismans, helping me in dark moments. One is a quote from Barbara Kingsolver who when asked about writer’s block said something like, “The best cure for writer’s block is having children. Because any minute I had to actually write, I would fall upon the keys like a starved dog.”1

The other idea came from Elizabeth Alexander, the poet who read at Obama’s inauguration. She said that she did some of her best writing in the sleep-deprived early years of her children’s lives; that something about the lack of sleep made her open in a new way, less obstructive to the creative force.2

These ideas give me hope, not because they are necessarily true for me, but because they reframe the writing/motherhood dilemma. Maybe the two are not in conflict after all. In fact, maybe each feeds the other. So far, my experience of parenting has gifted me with a wealth of new material. Mothering has cracked me open in many ways, and the expansion, the new depths of feeling, the survival of heretofore undreamed of challenges, it’s all rich and dense—great compost for writing.

Do you have any unexpected bright sides about parenting or other challenges?

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1 Kingsolver wrote one of my favorite books in recent memory, The Lacuna. Yes, that’s right. I’m footnoting a blog entry.

2 You can listen to the interview with Alexander here: http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2011/words-that-shimmer/

New Blog: 4 Broad Minds

Dear Readers, I hope you will come visit the new blog I started with some writer friends, 4 Broad Minds. I post there once a month. But don't worry, I will continue to post here on a weekly basis also.

As a thank you, a photo of my ridiculously adorable Pug (emphasis on ridiculous):

The Reset Button

Blissed out--alone--at the beach

After the trip to Mexico, having a cold, hosting a baptism party for 50 people at my home, then a week of Daniel not sleeping well (day or night), I felt utterly depleted – physically, mentally, emotionally. When I found myself crying at 6 a.m. last Thursday, I knew something had to give. I texted Carl and requested to spend the next night away, alone. He said yes—bless him. I didn’t know where I would go, just that I needed to be in a house where Daniel was not, in hope of getting the first good night’s sleep in what felt like a century. I needed to hit the reset button.

Just knowing that a break was on the horizon – the immediate horizon—helped so much. The next day D was pretty chill. (I swear, he’s his most charming when he knows I’m going to be leaving.) I had dinner with Carl, then took off, tires squealing as I made my getaway. I listened to loud music without worrying about waking the baby. Arriving at the shore at 9 p.m., I pumped milk—no escaping that at the moment—watched some silly TV, and went to sleep by 11.

I woke up—pause for effect—9 hours later.

As if it didn’t already feel like the best morning of my life, it slowly dawned on me that no one needed me to do anything. I didn’t have to feed anyone, change anyone, walk anyone. I could just…well, be. It was glorious.

After a quick stop at the beach, I had a blessed breakfast of buckwheat pancakes, smothered in butter, a side of pork roll, perfectly grilled, and bottomless coffee. I poked into a few stores, bought some fudge for my amazing husband. Then off to a massage, where I luxuriated in the feeling of being pampered, of being cared for, with no expectation in return. (Other than payment, which I was happy to provide.) I followed that up with a pedicure, mostly just so I wouldn’t have to move for another hour. I ate lunch at the counter of Mack & Manco’s, watching the ocean through the window, then wandered the boardwalk. I spent a few more precious moments at the beach, just because I can never get enough of the salt air, the crashing waves, the sandpipers scurrying, the sun penetrating to my very heart. I left feeling refreshed, renewed. Yes, reset.

I came home to a sick baby. Poor little guy has his first cold. Which meant another week of very little sleep for any of us. By Thursday, I was ready for another escape. Had I opened Pandora’s Box by my one glorious day to myself? Knowing it’s not realistic, or even desired, to be away one night every week, I had the idea of Carl and I alternating nights taking care of Daniel, until the sleep strike ends. So last night, I was here, with my family, but in another room, where I slept blissfully for 8 straight hours with a loud fan to block any noise. I woke up refreshed, renewed, reset. So maybe the answer isn’t waiting for opportunities for grand gestures to myself, but rather, carving out small spaces for myself whenever possible.

How do you hit the reset button for yourself?