Flying time : 9+ hours

image from broadway paper.com

"I am not going to sugarcoat this for you - this is not going to be fun. But it will be over, at some point, so just keep that in mind." - a mom-friend on flying alone to Europe with a toddler

But I did it - I got on an airplane with a 14 month old, by myself and flew from San Francisco to Frankfurt. And it wasn't that bad. I am glad I don't have to do it again, but my pre-trip assumptions of utter hell were simply assumptions. He slept, I sort-of watched 2 movies and we made it to Germany quite unscathed.

What surprised me was something more subtle. Having a bassinet reserved meant we were confined to the seats in the bulkhead. And there we were - three families, fives kiddos (3 babies in 3 bassinets, the nugget included), two dads, three moms (including me) , one portable DVD player, several pacifiers and a whole lot of patience. And from the moment we all were able to pre-board together, I assumed a sort of allegiance. But in fact, it seemed the exact opposite.

It felt like 9 hours of the comparing mind show down. My baby is sleeping. Hers is squirming all over the place. Mine is eating. Hers is coughing. Mine is not making a fuss. Mine won't go to sleep. Mine just woke up because hers was crying. She is watching a movie. Mine won't sit still. And so on.

There was no sisterhood of the traveling babies or divine secrets of the ya-ya moms-on-the-go. Nothing. Nada. No nods of recognition or support or "we're in the trenches together, sister. hang in there". I smiled a few times but my smiles were met with a sort of "who the hell are you" look, so I simply slouched back into my window seat and stop trying make friends with women I would never see again. But it made me feel alone - more alone than the fact that I was actually traveling alone without my husband. It was a feeling that had started somewhere in the security check line in SFO when the unhappy woman in uniform snorted at me to "move away from the table" to keep the line moving and ended only when a young man at the Frankfurt airport was the first to help with the stroller and escorted me and the nugget to the special elevator. I suppose air travel has become more about personal survival than communal harmony, with little room for random acts of kindness.

Too bad really, it might make 9 hours in an airplane, for the next mom and her toddler just a little less terrible.

Wabi sabi what?

Sometimes you learn about something and it makes the unclear clear and the indescribable, describable. That is what happened when I learned about the Japanese concept of Wabi Sabi a few years ago.

I am writing about it now because our new rental house is wabi sabi - imperfect and quirky and aging and uneven. But it fits us. It lets us be ourselves and live the way we want to live - surrounded by the knowledge that other families have played and eaten and laughed and cried here before us. And the imperfections are comforting.

Wabi sabi is : the gentle patina of age : living modestly + simply : being satisfied with what is : living in the moment : accepting that everything changes, all the time : seeing the beauty of things as they are : small moments of celebration : imperfection

Wabi sabi is not : a design style : looking messy + unkept : plastic : disposability : stagnant : mass produced

In a home, its about mismatched plates, the patina of aging photographs, wildflowers, frayed edges, solid wood furniture and earthern clay walls, for example. It is not decoration or interior design, but a philosophy for living.

In this age of information overload, we can become overwhelmed by this quest to get it right and do it all. Wabi sabi suggests that by identifying with the imperfections, predictable/unpredictable changes and constant movement of nature’s cycles and rhythms, the unique traits of each individual become apparent and ease the pressure of living a perfect life. If we can accept the imperfection and constant changes in nature and in our own lives, we can perhaps find a bit of happiness. In short, its about being the perfect imperfection.

Books about wabi sabi:
The wabi-sabi house : robyn griggs lawrence
Wabi sabi simple : richard r. powell
Wabi-sabi for artists, designers, poets & philosophers : leonard koren
Living wabi sabi: the true beauty of your life : taro gold

Doing, doing, doing. Stop.

image from SF Zen Center Website

It took almost 24 hours to really get there. Not geographically and not physically - that only took about 4 1/2 hours stretched over 2 days. But mentally, the transition from the world out there to the world in there took hours and a few soaks in the indoor plunge and several long breaths and a whole lot of mindfulness.

So it was around dinner on my second evening at Tassajara that I really arrived. And when I did, I really did.

I could never really turn off the "my baby is with grand-ma for the first time and he is not here with me and I get to sleep 3 nights without him and my husband is at home" voice but instead of fighting it, I just sort of let it be. That is simply my chatter or at least the topic of my chatter and I knew that it would be with me the whole time. What I did not reckon with was the subtle physical ache that not being with the nugget caused. It was not extreme - just enough to feel the tugging at the muscles of my heart, like a reminder that freedom means something new for me. Something new that I have not yet figured out and am still trying to define.

So I let the missing be there and let myself talk about him if I felt the need, but mostly I just did what I wanted, when I wanted. And that, was simply divine. I was going to say kick-ass but somehow that didn't seem to fit this story about this sanctuary for the spirit, but really, that is what it was. Having 3 divinely decadent vegetarian meals prepared for you is also not bad, nor are the baths, and the freezing river, and the pool, and the supremely silent evening meditation. Different from my practice, and certainly more formal, the evening zazen (Zen meditation) was a reminder to me what it means to sit in community. To sit in silence, with others, and simply be.
Let's just say, that second night provided the deepest and longest restorative sleep that I have had in a really long time.

Thursday morning came as expected and I was indeed ready to return to my family. I was ready to be with them - not necessarily ready to be back in the world of the doing. Transporting them into the valley would have been the best solution - wonder what the residents would have done with the nugget? He is walking Zen, most of the time. Maybe I'll try that next time.

Just as I had come, I returned to the world of the doing via one hair raising, rugged road and simply let the ease of the last few days settle in. When I arrived at the dance studio, grand-ma and nugget were beaming - I am not sure who had had more fun. And when he saw me, I knew I had done the exact right thing for the both of us, by simply taking care of myself.

For more information about Tassajara, the Zen Mountain Retreat, affiliated with the San Francisco Zen Center, please follow this link.

Too long of a pause.

It's been too long.

It's been too long since we had some real fun. It's been too long since I have seen some of my dearest women friends. It's been too long since I took some time for myself. It's been too long since my husband and I went out on a date. It's been too long since my last yoga class. It's been too long since I slowly enjoyed eating a meal. It's been too long since I just read a book for the hell of it. It's been too long since I had a tan or at least some color in my face. It's been too long since I slept through the night. It's been too long since my last real time alone. It's been too long without extended adult conversation. It's been too long away from this blog.

In the last 4 weeks, we thought about moving, found a place to move to, packed up our apartment in 4 days, left the city, moved to the suburbs, stopped sleeping in the living room because now we each get our own rooms, set up a house, met our new neighbors, updated our mailing address, left our friends, added a commute, tried to sell our apartment to someone we know, decided to rent our apartment instead and are now desperately looking for those perfect tenants who will stay just as long as we need them to.

We pressed fast forward, then play.

But I need a pause. A real one, an intentional one. Not the pause from writing or having fun that came along with the transition and upheaval of moving. I need a real pause, to catch my breath, be still and find my balance.

And the only way that I know how to do that, is too remove myself from the world that feels like it is going too fast. And the closest, most accessible place for me to remove myself to, is a retreat nestled deep in the Ventana Wilderness, southeast of Monterey. I am leaving the baby with my mom and my husband at home. There is a first time for everything.

This is me, pressing pause.

An expected first

I suppose this will never end - the flood of firsts that happen to first time parents. Maybe when he is 16 I will still be acknowledging them.

And now that he is nearing 14 months, the firsts just keep on coming. For this particular first, someone even invented the completely useless peepee teepee. When you have a baby boy, you always think you will inevitably get peed on. And don't get me wrong, there were many a times I had to jump out of the jet stream. But tonight, as I toweled dried his little squirmy body after an evening bath and he was gently and softly snuggling into my right side as my left arm dried him off...it happened. First it was this warm sensation that I thought was bath water that had somehow managed to defy gravity and jump out of the bathtub and onto my ribcage. But when I looked down and he looked down and we both managed to stop and and internally say "Oh", I knew that I had just officially and whole heartedly been peed on. And I mean really peed on.

But I didn't react. I didn't get mad. I didn't even laugh. I just watched as he with complete concentration tried to figure out what his little body had just done. It must have felt different from the hundreds of unconscious times it happens in his diapers because he looked like as baffled as a caveman who had seen fire for the first time. He was aware, he was present and he was totally intrigued.

For those of you who are not parents, I apologize that I have wasted the precious time you have in a day on a toddler's urination. But for me, it was simply one of the only times today when I actually paused - and completely stopped what I was doing and paid attention to what was happening in the moment. Not really sure that was what Buddha had in mind, but this is motherhood - I'll take the mindfulness practice any way that I can.

Cinco de Mayo

Somewhere, someone is drinking a margarita (or several) to celebrate today. In the city, everyone is out and about tonight. Didn't really feel like much of a special day over here on this side of the bridge. I made quesadillas and guacamole and drank half a beer and dreamed of a vacation in Mexico.

Happy Cinco de Mayo

The sound of Om

This is what it looks like. And if you have ever attended a yoga class, you know what it sounds like. But have you ever really tried it - like when you are stuck in traffic and your head is about to explode because your poor baby is totally over being in his car seat and being schlepped around from one errand to another and all he wants is your cell phone but if you give it to him it might end up tucked between his car seat and the side door and you are expecting a phone call from a mortgage broker who might be able to help you figure out if you should be renting out your apartment or putting it on the market.

Yes, that is the moment to om. A few times. Long and slow.

And I did.

And everything changes and within 2 minutes the nugget had fallen fast asleep.

The calm after the storm

It's been exactly a week since we moved out of the city. And I am tired. Everyone keeps asking me, "So how is it?" and I can't really answer because I have been swallowed up whole with boxes and unpacking and re-organizing and figuring out where it is all supposed to go.

In less than 3 weeks who have gone from owners to renters, city dwellers to semi-suburbanites, one bedroom to four, and sleeping in the living room to having our own room. So, its been quite the change or maybe I should say it still is quite the change.

In one day, we moved a heck of a lot of stuff for two people who think they live with very little. And for 2 days, it was utter chaos. But that chaos was okay. Its this drawn out scatteredness and mess that is undoing me.

I find myself frantically wanting to make order and have everything sorted out yesterday. I have moved many times in my life and I was always the person to stay up and just get it all done - so that within 2-3 days of moving everything was in its place. I was content and life could just keep going. But I have never moved as a wife and as a mother and that old habit just doesn't work anymore - and my inability to be overly capable and organized is causing me more trouble and grief, every minute that things aren't the way I want them to be.

So I am struggling to keep it together and can see how my tendency towards being a bit compulsive about my living spaces (to put it gently) is causing this change and transition to be even more stressful than it already is or has to be. Being aware of how I am feeling and what my tendency is a great step in the right direction, but oooh, this is just tough. I just want a day - one full day without a baby and maybe even without a husband and without any other duties but to get things in order, my way.

And what's tougher is that my husband generously invited our first "guests" over tomorrow and though I want to be the totally cool and laid back wife who can accept everything just the way it is and be extremely pleased that the house already looks the way it does only after 7 days, I am not. I don't feel proud yet and I don't feel guest ready and I certainly don't feel like a hostess.

But instead of being upset, I will make this a lesson in non-attachment. A lesson, to in fact, accept everything exactly as it is. And what is is this:

1. We moved 7 days ago
2. We have a 13 month old baby who is curious, clever, fast and gets into everything making everything I do take 5x longer
3. 90% of the boxes we packed are empty
4. The house looks fine, just the way it is

So instead of spending the remaining waking hours tonight on cleaning something else up or re-hanging the curtain rods, I am going to keep browsing through my favorite blogs for the posts that I missed in the last two weeks and focus on breathing, accepting, smiling and being okay with things exactly as they are.

A slow leak

First I moved to this new blog name. Now we're moving, for real.

Me and Mr. Maus and the nugget are leaving the city and heading across the Golden Gate. We are headed to warmer weather, more space, a back-yard, a deck, a fireplace, two bathrooms, a washer and dryer and a master bedroom. Luxury it is not, for the little rental house that we found is quirky and old and may even be described by some as odd, but it fits. It fits us.

We've lived quite a life in these 700sq ft and it is a bittersweet transition to move out of the city and out of this apartment. It has taken me nearly 4 years to feel like this place is home, so it is somewhat ironic to be leaving it now. But we don't fit and as much as we know that you don't need 4 bedrooms to make us happy and that much of the world lives together in spaces smaller than ours, our life simply doesn't fit into a one-bedroom apartment anymore.

I have shed some tears and had some extreme feelings of overwhelm, but now there is a peace about this whole process. It is the peace that comes with having made a decision. And so one box and drawer and corner at a time, I am packing it all up.

Moving is one of the seven major life transitions that can cause extra stress and despair and heartache. I suppose that comes from feeling uprooted and disconnected and disorganized and weighed down by the immensity of one's possessions. I have been trying to be mindful about what moving really is - at the end of the day its just movement from one place to another. It is change. This awareness has allowed me to feel almost comfortable in the uprootedness and attentive to how it must feel to the nugget whose external world is changing one Uhaul box at a time.

I was expecting chaos and perhaps that will still come but it feels more gradual and calm than I had expected. My brother asked me if the tornado had started this morning and it made me stop to think. I replied, "No, its more like a slow leak."

Perfectly imperfect

{from maus + nugget...one of my final posts there}

One of the greatest lessons of motherhood is learning non-attachment.

Non-attachment to schedules and things how they used to be, non-attachment to being on time or keeping commitments, non-attachment to how things should be.

Many months ago I committed to reading one chapter of Momma Zen every Sunday. I figured with chapters that are sometimes only a few pages long, this would be more than doable. But here I am, months later, and I am still only on Chapter 6. 4 pages in 4 months - that is almost laughable. No, it is simply motherhood.

But it is Sunday and I have read my chapter (for the 2nd time) and this one is important. They are all important, but this is really important because its about making making mistakes.

I have always wanted to do things right - who doesn't? But it is one thing to do things right for yourself, it is a whole other animal to do things right for your baby. And it starts with pre-natal vitamins and perhaps ends never. And with all the information and with all the choices, we think that if we do enough research, ask the right questions and make the right decisions, we will do what is right and perfect for our babies.

Until we make a mistake. Until they fall down the stairs because we left the gate open. Until they cry because the bite of sweet potato we gave was too hot. Until we lock them in the car with the motor running because we are doing too many things as the same time.

And so I made mistakes. I probably made a lot of them as a new mom. And I may never know the consequences of those mistakes, but I have to trust that they are as much a part of the nugget's learning experiences as my triumphs. I am not a perfect mom or wife or friend or daughter or sister and hopefully I can accept the imperfections of those around me. Karen Maezen Miller writes, "Practice acceptance on yourself so that you can be kinder to your child." Isn't that what we want, to be kind to our children? And yes, it begins with accepting ourselves, all parts of ourselves - the parts that we love and the parts that we wish could be different. The parts that take 4 months to read 4 pages and the parts that say one thing and do another.

Practice acceptance for all that is, exactly the way it is.

Remembering

It's Friday night - the two men in my life are both passed out. The kitchen is a mess and my to-do list is sort of out of control but it is time to press pause.

It has been a whirlwind week of decisions and tax paying and adult conversations that are so totally not fun and I realized how mostly checked out I was for most of it. And I was so checked out because for several weeks I have not gotten to the pillow to sit and be still and I have not stopped for even five minutes to catch my breath.

The result? Sadness, mild depression, overwhelm and that pressing feeling in my whole body that the world is just too much. And then when that happens, I am not a good mom, a good wife, a good friend or a good me. And then all these precious and delightful moments pass by me and I can't even see them.

And when you have a little 12+ month old baby, every day there is something new and magical and changing and I don't want to be so checked out that I miss any of it. And that is when I found this picture...this picture of the nugget's hands when he was just a few weeks old. I love these hands. I can't get enough of these hands. These hands that now hold and explore and touch anything and everything as if it was the first time.

So tonight I will pause.

And think about those hands.

And know that everything is exactly as it should be.

Happy Tax Day

A prospective client of my husband's gave us this gift when he heard I was pregnant. Clever, being that he is a CPA. Its usually the onesie at the bottom of the pile that reminds that it is way past time to do laundry - but somehow today, it is totally relevant.