Happy to Be Me

Inspiration:

More Gifts

The day before yesterday in my Group a therapist read us the story of a woman who bought herself a bag of cookies at the airport and sat down next to a gentleman to wait for her flight.  The sack of cookies was between them, and her neighbor kept reaching in to help himself to her cookies.  She grew silently outraged at his audacity. When there was only one cookie remaining, he took it and offered her half, and she accepted it with obvious resentment.  Seething, she boarded her flight. Then she looked in her carryon and found her own bag of uneaten cookies.  The man had, in fact, been sharing his cookies with her.

I'd heard this story before and it reminded me of the "what if" game a parent at school once shared she plays when she feels resentment building toward her fellow humans.  What if, she imagines, the poky driver in front of her has the family goldfish in a bowl on the front passenger seat, to be delivered to her daughter, sick in the hospital?  What if the angry person in line didn't sleep last night, worrying about how to pay the bills since he lost his job?

Now, more than ever, I am appreciating that everyone has a story, whether it's worn on the sleeve or not.  So little do we know, right, lady in the airport?  My certainties have been toppled, and I am in a process of looking more closely and carefully gathering anew what I know to be true.  And leaving so much unfathomed.

Among the gifts of this journey I'm on are increased empathy, decreased judgment.   My sensitivity is heightened.  The smallest gestures of human kindness, patience, and generosity are very meaningful to me.

Thank you for that hug.

I'm slower, simpler, smaller-lived for now.  Less music on the radio, less screen, fewer correspondences, less noise, fewer choices.  I purge and long for less stuff, as if to simultaneously unclutter my busy brain.

I am in more stillness.  More baby and her easily identifiable needs.  More family.

My goal is to reconcile this pace, this safe place I'm in, with the life I need to lead to be mother, wife, worker, friend, healthy me.  There must be an acceptable, livable, enriching middle ground.

4 Months

Here she, is, Tootsie, all 13 pounds-plus of her, sporting an outfit designed by her sister, Karate  Kid style.  She's got rolls on her arms, legs, and neck, testament to the enthusiastic eater she is.  She's talking back more, and trying to roll over, grinning broadly and giggling too.

She's a snuggly one, loving nothing more than to nestle into a shoulder for a nap.  Hard to believe it's already been a quarter-year.

Gratitude 2013

It's hard to overstate how grateful I feel for the love, encouragement, support, assistance, meals, time, and understanding we've been offered and had delivered across our doorstep, even over my protests, by dear friends near and far.  Love, it just flows, inexplicably and unabated.  I'm in awe (and avoiding saying "indebted," believing that the tide of generosity will flow outward from us soon, in the natural ebb and flow of human need in our village).

This year has been about choices, surprises, inevitabilities, loss, strength, vulnerability, risk, and pulling together.  It's been mostly about family.

I'm in one of the toughest struggles I've taken on, and it's humbling to admit that amidst tragedies and disasters, it's an internal postpartum crisis of confidence that's brought me to my knees.  I'm trying to be patient and have faith that I'll emerge a recognizable version of myself.

In this time of Thanksgiving I have tremendous gratitude for all the blessings of this year, and for the hope I'm assured is peeking just over the horizon.

One Day at a Time

I didn't anticipate how it would feel to absorb so much change.

I'm reminding myself to be patient and kind and believe in myself.  There's a lot of myself going on right now, and my kids, too.  The world will open up wider soon, but for right now, I'm keeping the focus centered on the essentials and one foot in front of the other.

Baby Tootsie and her sisters are rocking it (besides, you know, falling prey to the stomach flu).  Husband is my hero.

More soon.

Stone in the River

Today was my first day back to work, but the "back" part is what I took for granted.  I'm not the vice principal anymore; I have a new job I have barely tried out.  I was back in the same place, but in a new office and new role.  Today was my first day as principal of the high school, almost three months into the school year.

I described it as feeling as if I were a stone thrown into the middle of a river.  The water is flowing around me, and I'm wagging my head around in wonder.  I'm used to going with the flow from the origin, the mountaintop, but today I started midstream.  What's my school--even by virtue of being the very school I graduated from--feels oddly unfamiliar right now.

I'm anxious to get to the part where I know.  It's a strange dichotomy to feel like I both know so much and so little.  And I don't think I've ever felt so humble.  I'm humbled by this experience of motherhood the third time around, by watching my family adjust and embrace our newborn and new life, by a new job I'm honored and still a bit incredulous to have, by the unflagging love and support and faith of our friends and families which come in so many forms.

Tomorrow I will be armed with a tiny bit more knowledge and experience and maybe? a little more sleep?

Perchance to dream...

The Playable Lie

I received the most wonderful email from the mother of a dear college friend this morning.  She lives across the country but has remained interested in all of our lives over the years, and kept in close touch during Toosie's and my adventure in Boston.

Her words are worthy of publishing--mother wisdom from a wise one:

"It seems from your blog that tomorrow is your official going back day.  I wish you smooth transitions, proud moments and good satisfaction for all that you have done and how much you are doing and confidence in everything finding its 'playable lie'. I don't play golf, but that term is one that I love because it is what we mom/professionals do.  We take what we have and go with it as best we can.  It's never perfect, but often very close, and it is ours and that is good."

Thank you, CC.