"Money makes the world go round, the world go round..."

Isn't that how the song goes?

Money.

How can such a small little word, which rhymes with something as sweet as honey and has only 5 letters be so loaded, so scary, so corruptible, so full of potential, so necessary and so consuming?

We (my husband and I) have been chipping away at some sort of financial planning for the last 4 years. A meeting here, a spreadsheet there and article of college 529 plans there. But now as parents and "real grown-ups" (I write that with a smile on my face), there is a sense of urgency to get our financial life in order. Because what I see now, is how it affects every decision that we make - from vacations in Mexico to me going back to work to childcare to buying a house to moving to Bali for a year to helping an aging parent. Most ironically, I have been elected CFO of this small enterprise and it is requiring me to first look deeply into my relationship with money.

And deep I will go.

Unhappy, really?

photo by Jessica Todd Harper for New York Magazine

A writing teacher of mine once told me that "Thinking about writing is writing." That would mean that I have written several novels, a manuscript, a book of short stories and a few children books. I am always thinking about writing - in fact not a day goes by that I don't have 20 ideas or happenings that I want to transform into the written word. And then comes motherhood.

Take this post for example. It has been sitting in my drafts folder for 7 days. And its been in the drafts folder in my head as well - taking up precious resources and energy that I don't have to spare. And taking me out of the present moment, when I could be fully immersed instead with planes, trains and automobiles.

As you can see, I am not only a little behind in my blog writing, I am also behind in outside reading. I don't always get the news right when its happening which means I don't get the interesting editorials either. This one from New York Magazine is from June and its only September. That's not too bad, is it?

All Joy and no fun - why parents hate parenting by Jennifer Senior (for full article follow this link NY Magazine) candidly explores the not so sunshiny part of parenthood. The part where you snap at your partner just because he is there, the part where you open a beer at 5pm because it might be only thing to calm your nerves, the part where you feel alienated from the rest of the adult world because you spent your day in the sandbox, the part where you feel like you have been traveling without speaking the language because you have been trying to decipher the signs and sounds and pointing of an 18 month old whose mind is much sharper than his language skills and the part where you have to use every part of your creative mind and master degree educated brain to figure out how to get your child to eat, anything.

This article supports the claim that I heard many months ago, that people with children under the age of 5 report to be the unhappiest amongst parents. No surprise. It's hard. And no amount of profound love and divine connection that you have with your baby changes that.

So why are people with children less happy than people without children, as the article suggests. There could be so many reasons and so many factors, but I think that at the very essence of the matter is this: expectations. We wait for happiness: until we get into our 1st choice college, until we find that perfect mate and have that perfect wedding, until we find the right house, until we have that perfect baby, until we have that second perfect baby, and so on. Should I continue?

And then when we (I am speaking for women here) have some or all of those things, we try to do it all. Work, mother, cook organic meals every night, keep a perfectly clean house, maintain friendships, maintain our marriage and maintain a wonderfully put together physical appearance. Um, please tell me how you make this work?

This expectation and need to do all of these things is what makes me unhappy.

I can see this play out in my own life, even though I know how fleeting and useless this line of happiness seeking is. And when I do actually allow myself to just get on the floor and build the garage with my little engineer, that is when it hits me that I can simply be happy. That I have a choice. But then I start to think about dinner that has to be made and the emails that I haven't answered and finances I haven't dealt with and the blog posts that I really, really want to write and then the flood of "I am so unhappy with my life" washes over me.

I don't like the monotony of raising a child or the extra energy it takes to let him walk down the stairs by himself or the extra time I have to take to wait until he puts all his pacifiers back in his bed in the morning, but it is part of my choice to become a mother. Part of raising a child in this modern Western world. And really, my reaction, my happiness, my attitude, is all up to me.

Tired, again

image via projectmommyhood

I am tired, again.

Oh so very tired.

And after 3 nights of wake-ups every 1-3 hours and 3 days with naps that happened with screaming and crying and unhappiness and 4 days of wakefulness that is full of pleading and yearning and frustration and this bitterly annoying "eahhh" sound, I finally looked into my favorite sleep manual (bedtiming by lewis and granic). And what did I find, divine clarity. Why does it take me so long to realize this, every time?

Seems he is in the 17-21 month developmental phase - which is HUGE. HUGER than many that came before. Crying, yearning, frustration, curiosity, wanting, needing, whining, pleading, doing, looking, exploring = a really tired mom. Solution - to be patient, to be in the moment, to be understanding, to be loving and to be aware. And yes, this too shall pass.

So, once again, my productivity slides to an all time low. And my internal dialogue and dislike of this is what makes it worse and keeps me from taking a nap or at least resting during the day. And then, I fall apart.

I have permission from everyone to rest, except myself. Funny.

So sorry...

Have you ever noticed how much we apologize to each other? For missing your call or not calling back or not cleaning the kitchen?

I went to a woman's house this morning - a new mom I met at the playground. Her house is amazing and beautiful and big and dreamy and the first thing she said as we walked in through the back door was "I'm sorry - I haven't cleaned up the morning mess yet." I suppose her "apology" caught me so off guard because first, there was no mess that needed any sort of apology and second, it was in German and it was as if I didn't fully comprehend its meaning. We toss those words around so freely in the English language - all of a sudden in another language it sounded so severe.

It stayed with me all day. It stayed with me as a realized how many times I apologize for not immediately responding to someone's voice mail and how many times I get messages from other moms apologizing for not responding faster to mine. So we are all so sorry for so many things.

And then it made me think of my first boyfriend in high-school. He was a senior and I was a freshman and he was a musician and a thespian and had an earring and drove this really old school car and and I just thought he was really grand. I still do. He once told me that I said sorry too much. And that it wasn't necessary. 90% of the conversations I had in high school have fallen into the forgotten oasis part of my brain, but this one never did.

So I am going to stop apologizing, just like that, for all the little things. I will be better at being on time. I will be better at giving a realistic time frame. I will allow the kitchen to be messy because instead I played trucks on the floor with an 18 month old who totally doesn't care that the dishes aren't done.

And I will save, "I'm sorry" for when I really need it. And then, it might just mean something again.

Sweeping

It's Friday night. And I found myself cleaning the kitchen just now, immersed in the reality of life's fragility.

In the background my husband was talking to a friend whose mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer and it could be days or weeks or months. And in my head the thoughts of the earlier conversation with my own mom spun thoughts of sadness as she is now faced with unexpectedly having to re-examine her own purpose and work life, at the age of 60.

And it made me think of all of the young people in the city tonight, at some bar, laughing and hoping and looking and searching and maybe drinking too much.

And it made me think of the nugget in his bed who has not yet had his heart broken or been disappointed by someone he loves.

And as I wiped up the soggy Cheerio that I had missed this morning and rhythmically swept the floor of all the dust and dirt from the last few days, I realized that this was all just part of it. Part of life. Part of being a human being. Letting go, being sad, celebrating on a Friday night, consoling a friend and sweeping up mushy Cheerios.

Simplifying parenthood

Tonight we had a mini-date night. I say mini because 90% was listening to a lecture about parenting and 10% was about eating dinner beforehand and enjoying a beer without one of us having to attend to a squirming and curious 18 month old.

We had the pleasure of listening to Kim John Payne, author of Simplicity Parenting. And it was one of those talks where I found myself nodding in agreement, secretly praising ourselves for the things we already do and creating the "to do" list for things we could greatly improve. My new iphone was from that minute totally off limits to the nugget - no matter how darling it is to see him watching Pippi in German on my Utube app.

Parenthood is not simple, nor is childhood, but Payne's perspective is that we add complexity that is not necessary and potentially even hazardous to the mental, emotional, physical, social and spiritual development of our children. This is not new information to me - but scientific proof was.

A few take-aways from the evening:

1. We are raising economic units instead of creative beings
In the name of "assuring our children's later success in life" we are over-scheduling, over-taxing, over-demanding and over-stimulating our children, which in turn is leading to a chronic low grade level of stress that is becoming the new "normal". This new state is resulting in physical, emotional and mental imbalance that presents in everything from ADHD, hyperactivity, stomach ulcers in pre-schoolers, vomiting during school testing and so on.

2. Screen usage (TV and computers) has been proven to stunt the development of children's brains - most importantly the ability to understand cause and affect. Children under 3 should have NO time in front of a screen - if you can make it to age 6 without "screen time" even better.

3. We don't let our children be bored. After 20 minutes of being bored, the most amazing creativity begins to emerge. His suggestion, you have to be more boring than their boredom. The benefit for you: you actually get to read a magazine.

4. "I just turned 50" he said, "I am done being nice." I took this to mean that he is done sugar-coating his message or molding it to be less confronting. TV is bad, less is better, there is a time for chaos and mess and wild and noise and accomplishment and tests, but it has to be balanced with calm and quiet and un-stimulating. And this needs to happen now.

50+ moms and a handful of dads listened to his suggestions on how to simplify and both of us walked away saying that this was absolutely worthwhile and inspiring. And more than that, it was a framework for supporting what we have started on our own, based on an experience in a Thai monastery - way before we ever had a child of our own.

We have reached a tipping point he said and now things have to change.

Sleep well

(via rose red via the carboard forest)

In need of a new mattress. Really, any recommendations?

Toasting pine nuts

There is no better way to practice being in the present moment than by toasting pine nuts. I suppose some spiritual teachers would disagree with me on the "no better way" part but I find it to be one of those mundane tasks that can serve a divinely important role in the midst of dinner cooking mayhem.

You see, if you try to do something else while you are toasting pine nuts, they will burn.

So in our house, when we make our favorite kale salad, the pine nut toasting has become mindfulness practice. Every time.

And for some reason today, I felt in needed to pass it along - the mindfulness and the recipe.

Here you are. Bon appetit!

Our favorite kale salad
Recipe from our friend Trudy Schafer of The Healing Hearth who fed our wedding guests and to whom I am so very grateful

Ingredients
1 bunch kale
1/2 cup pine nuts
6 sun-dried tomato halves, chopped
dressing:
1 lemon, juiced
1 tablespoon agave nectar
1/2 cup olive oil (or more if needed)
salt + pepper to taste

Wash kale thoroughly and pat or skin dry. Julienne into bite size pieces and place in a large bowl.

Toast pine nuts in a non-stick skillet until golden brown and set aside.

Chop sun-dried tomatoes and set aside.

Place lemon juice in a small bowl, add agave nectar, slowly whisk in olive oil and salt and pepper to taste.

Add dressing to chopped kale, toss together. Add sun-dried tomatoes and pine nuts to the top.

Serve!

A few of my added thoughts:
Kale is raw - not cooked or steamed! Just want to clarify!
Safeway carries sun-dried tomatoes already julienned - one step easier for busy moms.
I tend to use the juice of almost 2 lemons - guess it depends on the size of the lemon.
I LOVE the salad the next day - after the kale as been marinating in the dressing - so don't worry if you don't finish it all. I have even been known to eat it for breakfast!

Under siege

I tried to find an image to go with this post, but when I typed under siege into Google Images, I was bombarded with images of either Steven Seagal's not so great movie series or bloody, violent images of war, both real and animated in computer war games.

So I passed.

Choosing one of those images would have been a bit self-indulgent and totally exaggerated for simply explaining that we have a sick and cranky baby. A mama-meltdown at the kitchen sink after a day of enduring whining and no-sleep and clear toddler unhappiness and frustration, prompted my husband to utter the following sentence:

"We're under siege. And when that happens, all rules are off."

He proceded to send me on my way for some "fresh air" and then he pulled out all the old "getting the nugget to sleep" tricks - the Itsy Bitsy Spider, bouncing, and lying on the floor next to his crib. And whatever he did, it worked. And then he was back from 7-11 with chocolate within minutes. And then there was some sort of something to watch instantly on Netflix.

In the end, just another lesson: when you are bombarded by an unknown foreign agent, assess the situation, contain the damage and keep calm. And then be really kind to yourself.

Buying the sliced cheese

{written april 18th, 2009 at maus + nugget, re-posted today because i needed to be reminded}

Somewhere in between seasonal/local/organic and the yellow can of Velveeta spray cheese is the best that I can do.

Somewhere between 8 glasses of water and total dehydration is the best that I can do.

Somewhere between 30 minutes of meditation a day or an extra 30 minutes of sleep is the best that I can do.

This new role as mother is making me hyper aware of that sweet spot that lies in between the polar opposites - that sweet spot that I will call the "best that I can do" for it is only with total exhaustion that one realizes the insanity that we drive ourselves to - the insanity of perfection, of getting it right, or doing the noble and righteous thing. When really, I can only do the best that I can do.

The gracious women of my women's circle have been delivering food since the nugget arrived, each taking a turn to visit and gift us with delicious morsels. What stood out were these words that prefaced a handful of the deliveries: "I am so sorry - it's not homemade. I bought it, okay." spoken with a sheepish tone of resignation and perhaps a bit of guilt. But why? We put this pressure on ourselves to work hard and then still somehow find time to prepare a roast and scalloped potatoes.

So women, we have loved the quinoa chili, the chinese chicken salad, the sliced cheese and cold-cuts for sandwhiches, the stuffed peppers from Whole Foods and we love you for loving us enough to take care of us. For in the end, it is all about the time and energy you give to others - not the ingredients.

As my friend Jen said today - "I know why moms buy pre-sliced cheese - because they don't have the time or the free hand to actually cut it".

So women, by kind to yourselves, give yourselves a break and buy the sliced cheese.

First, a Peony - a softly pink, coconut sweet cocktail - while I waited for the women to arrive.

Second, talking talking talking with news of a joyous pregnancy and a French vacation and a job offer and a new marriage and all the other things that bubble to the surface when our group of 7 sit down anywhere.

Third, really really tasty Indian brunch.

Fourth, 2 hours of Julia eating, traveling, loving, losing, praying, glowing, laughing, meditating and finding. The movie was delightful and real - as real as a 2.5 hour Hollywood film can be about a woman who moves through pain and loss to find herself. No it was not the book - it couldn't be but it was lovely reminder on a Sunday afternoon, with my favorite lady friends, to walk my path, speak my truth and somehow return to Bali as soon as I can. I left wondering why we had ever left Ubud in the first place.

Embracing Eeyore

Its been an outrageously gloomy summer here in Northern California. No surprise for San Francisco - summer tends to be the foggiest and coldest part of the year, but we left the city and moved north, to the sun. And there hasn't been any, all summer.

And when I wake up to a freezing cold house and the view of damp drizzly fog out of every window, I want nothing more than to crawl straight back in bed and stay there, all day. And then when I have to get dressed and put on jeans and layers and a fleece and socks, I get cranky and frustrated and irritated and annoyed and gloomy and tired. And then that moods sinks into my body, my mind stays foggy and unclear and I have to somehow get it together to go downstairs to be a toddler's mom and not-so-affected-by-weather man's wife.

I am easily prone to depression, though I have never been properly diagnosed. It has appeared in my life when one phase has ended and another is yet to begin - like after college graduation and then again after graduating from my master's program. It has always involved my sense of purpose, or I suppose lack of purpose or uncertainty of purpose. For me becoming a mother is and was very connected to my sense of purpose as well - hence the reality that I have been feeling a bit gloomy. It is no surprise that depression appears so easily in the first year of motherhood - from sleep deprivation to unbalanced hormones to unmet expectations to loss or change of purpose to isolation, it blows me away that post-partum depression is still such a taboo and timid topic.

I decided that feeling a bit like Eeyore is okay. And I realized that the gloomy-doomyness can creep in at anytime - so instead of fearing it or getting caught up in it this time, I asked some questions, bought some hormone balancing formula at my local health food store, started to move my body, asked for a little help and waited. Waited for the sun to shine again.

And guess what, it did.