Silence can say so much...

The first thing I do when I wake up is talk... to whomever; my husband, the cat, the coffee maker, myself- I chat.  I talk when I get nervous, anxious, mad, sad, scared... I chat.  I feel the need to fill the air with words.  My chatter is so frequent it often becomes diluted.  I've had the pleasure of meeting people who say so much by saying not much at all.  It is a very powerful feeling to be in the company of someone who does not have the need to fill the air with chatter, but when they decide to talk- their words have such meaning, such purpose.  I am inspired by people like this, and although I cannot relate to how they communicate, I sure can learn something from them.
When I was a teenager, I managed to get myself in to my fair share of trouble.  I will never forget the night my dad picked me up from one of my troublesome situations... I was ready to hear him scream.  I braced myself for his wrath, and held my breath thinking about what I would say to retaliate.  To my surprise, he said nothing at all.  He barely even looked at me.  His disappointment in my actions was so palpable- I could taste it, but he didn't utter a word at all.  I begged him to say something, I even tried to start an argument, but he didn't participate... silence.  It said so much.  I was so disappointed in myself for disappointing him, I wised up very quickly. 

Recently, I found myself in a predicament where I didn't know the right thing to say.  I tried to fill the void- the dead air, with chatter, but realized that my nonsense talk didn't add anything to the situation.  I wanted to support, I wanted to say something to make it all better, but realized that more than anything else- my physical presence was more support than anything I could say.  So I sat in silence.  Although I was uncomfortable, I realized my silence said so much and my physical presence was support enough.  I said what needed to be said without opening my mouth.

From one soul to another-

One foot in front of the other...

Just recently, I was emailing with a co-worker who had just successfully completely his first half marathon. I asked how it went, in which he replied, "you know- there were a lot of hills, but after a while you just put one foot in front of another and eventually you know the finish line will come." I don't why, but his phrase struck a cord with me. Maybe because it is so basic, so logical, but somehow so profound.

Yesterday was a tough day- I'm not going to lie. Both my monkeys were sick, and moody. By seven o'clock , Austin had screamed successfully for an hour straight-- through dinner, bath time, bottle time, and books... By the time Joey finally got home, I was ready to flip my lid. I was actually so flustered at his never ending screaming, I had to take a moment to recompose myself outside. No it wasn't pretty.  If only then- in the heat of the moment- I would have remembered to pace myself. I forgot to put "one foot in front of the other"...rather I stumbled, and the stumbling got worse and worse with each scream. After my moment to myself, I felt remorse. I was sorry I had let him get to me. I was sorry, I, being the adult wasn't capable to take control of the situation and calm him down. I was sorry I let it escalate. Mommy guilt is a pretty shitty thing...  Instead of focusing on the moment, I let the past hour of crying really jade my present attitude. 


You know, after last night I really started thinking about the phrase, "one foot in front of the other,"and it struck me that I need to change my approach to life. So often do I go into new chapters, or events of my life and think of it in its entirety. Rather than breaking it down into manageable steps, I get overwhelmed with the big picture.

For example, just the other day I agreed to go running with a co-worker. We had committed to running a 4 mile trail. At the start of our run, I started feeling anxious about whether or not I would be able to keep up. My heart rate elevated, and instead of finding my rhythm in the present moment, I let the thought of the overall mileage bog me down. Unlike the situation with Austin, it was not the past events (screaming for hours) that bogged me down, it was the future- the miles I had committed to running.  That's when I realized I needed to stop obsessing over what lies behind, and what lies ahead, but be present.  I need to learn to focus on the task at hand. Running at this very moment... Parenting in this breath... putting forth my best effort right now... And knowing that eventually I see the finish line.  Some days the finish line is at the end of a four mile trail, and some days it is 2 sleeping monkeys and a bottle of wine... but I need to rest assure that the finish line will come. 

From One Soul to Another,
Be Present

Everyone has a Battle to Fight...

 I often look at other people, and think "man- if only I could run as fast as her" or "have her hair" or "drive that car" or "live in that house" or "have her confidence" or "have his intelligence" my life would be so much better. 

You know, I think it is human nature to judge one another.  We are constantly trying to put our "best foot forward" to impress one another.  I see it often.  I do it myself.  I will see a mom with kids similar in age to my two monkeys, just breeze into our music class, make-up perfect, wearing a cardigan and pearls... and I think, gosh- she is amazing, how the hell does she look so calm, so relaxed, and able to get dressed and out the door to a music class at 9:15am.  There are some days I sit in the same class, and wonder if I even remembered to brush my teeth!  My instant reaction is to judge.  I judge without even knowing I am judging.  I think, "well she must have a live in nanny, or a stay-at home husband to help her in the morning." I instantly get jealous, and insecure with my own choice of clothes (which rarely includes a cardigan).  I think, gosh she must think I am a mess.  Then I begin to judge her judging me- without even speaking to her.  It is awful to admit.   I watch as my lil monkeys play...so innocent, so non-judgemental, so pure... and I am jolted back into reality, and reminded of what is important.

You know, I am the type of person who puts myself out there.  I wear my heart on my sleeve at all times.  I have no filter.  I am very honest with myself about my insecurities, my vulnerabilities, hell- I even publish it for you all to read.  But I know not everyone is like me.  People are strong.  They walk around with problems- problems I can't even imagine or understand.  I said it before, and I will say it again, people inspire me.  Just recently I was told that a friend of mine, who appears to be like one of those momma's who has it all together, is currently battling something.  Something that I cannot explain in this forum, but it is going to take a lot to beat.  I was shocked.  Unbeknownst to the world around her was preparing for a battle.  In fact she was preparing for her battle rather quietly and bravely as to not disrupt her sweet lil girl's life.  She is strong, and inspiring.

When she shared her secret with me, I was shocked.  It made me  realize I need to stop being so judgemental, and start being grateful.  Grateful for what I do have which is so much.  I need to stop thinking that things are always what they seem, and start realizing what Plato so eloquently said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is is fighting a hard battle."

From one Soul to Another,
Be Kind

Learning how to make lemonade...

You know that age old adage, "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade"?  Well I need to work on my lemonade making skills. 

 I think we, as humans are pretty amazing. We can accomplish so much. We handle tragedy gracefully, with dignity, and pride.   One of the reasons I started this blog, and I wrote in my first blog entry is, "people inspire me." It's true. I am inspired daily by peoples courage, determination, strong beliefs and values, and optimism... People are amazing able to handle so much... But why is it the little things, "the lemons" that taste so sour?

A few days ago, I missed a flight to Florida where I was going for a much needed girls weekend. It was my stupid fault, I showed up at the airport a mere 15 minutes before my plane was scheduled to take off.  I woke up late, couldn't find my husbands car keys, took longer than expected to get to the airport... you know the whole stream of events that makes you late. The gate agent took pity on me, and gladly booked me for another flight at no additional cost. I returned home, spent a few hours with the boys, and headed back to the airport... Only to realize my debit card was missing. Several phone calls to the bank, husband, and every place I shopped at the day before, I concluded my card was gone. By this time, I was in full on anxiety/stress mode; high blood pressure, heart racing, shortness of breath, stressed out! I was so annoyed with my own stupidity and crappy luck I could have lost it!

You know, I am not always the best under pressure, but I do consider myself pretty resilient... I mean I bounced back after birthing twins with much less stress and anxiety than my current situation.

I don't think I'm alone either... I have watched my husband stay even keeled and steady through multiple million dollar negotiations with work, but freak out over traffic... I have seen grown men cry over losing a football game, I have seen people  yell at complete strangers at a movie theater for butting in line.  It just amazes me... I mean if it is just lemons-small, insignificant, things,  why is it to hard to swallow? It just amazes me how when it's the big things in life we deal so well, so gracefully, so dignified, but the little things cause us to crack. 

So while my day was still filled with stress and anxiety, I made it to Florida and had an awesome time.  In the end, I was able to look back at the days events and realize they were just lemons.  However in the heat of the moment, I learned lemons are really hard to swallow. 

From one soul to another

Change is Inevitable...

When I was in college, I would describe myself as a "fly by the seat of her pants" kind of girl.  I was free spirited, inspired, ready for the world... Any Bob Marley song was my anthem, and as long as I had my close friends near, and Bob on the radio, we could do anything (or at least we thought we could).  Ha!  Well like everything, things change.  I did not get over the whole college life easily... rather I went kicking and screaming into young adulthood trying to hold on to any college memory I could.  My friends and I still get together in Pittsburgh, and re-visit our old stomping grounds- as if nothing has changed...  We probably look like over served old ladies to the current college kids, but hey- for one night, I'll drink enough to put me back.
Now, that I am older I realize- I am not so free spirited.  Actually, not really at all.  I like order, schedules, and organization (to a degree).  I don't want to fly by the seat of my pants, rather I want to control every aspect of my life... and I lay awake at night thinking of ways I can.  I hate change.  There I said it.  I do.  Like any laboring mother will tell you, transition is hard, but for me it is excruciating, scary, and just flat out dreadful. 

You see, this is hard because I want to push myself out of my comfort zone, I want to think I am a constant learner, but the truth of the matter is- things outside of my comfort zone intimidate me.  Being a mom, every new stage is out of my comfort zone, and like I did when I left college, I go kicking and screaming into each new stage of my boys life (well not literally- most days).  It is like I have just mastered one thing, and then the whole sha-bang changes on me. 

Just the other day, my lil monkey did something pretty awesome.  We were walking down our stairs, and I started counting (a very normal activity), and he started counting with me...all the way to 7.  YES- 7, my baby is a genius!!  I instantly called my husband, and demanded to know who had taught him how to count-I was sure it wasn't me.  After my initial shock, we got in the car and went about our day.  Something funny happened, I realized I was crying... sobbing, rather.  And not happy tears because of his accomplishment, but sad tears.  Sad, selfish tears- I realized, my baby is not a genius, he just isn't a baby anymore.  YUCK.  There it is... change.  New stage, new things, new skills, different life. 

So I have accepted that I hate change... and I have accepted that despite my fear and hatred of change, change is going to happen.  So how do I deal?  Well- it may involve some kicking and screaming... but that won't change a thing...      

From one soul to another,
Embrace change

I actually really like my husband...

So I just re-read the title of this post, and I had to laugh because it just sounds so incredibly wrong... I mean my knee jerk reaction is, "Oh course you really like your husband, you idiot, why else would you have married him?"  Yes- I married my husband because I am in love with him... but I have learned that being in love with someone and liking someone are two very different things.  For instance, I love my sisters.  We have been together through so much.  They are a backbone for me in so many ways.  They support me, love me, and help me through anything.  However, (if you have sisters you can relate) I do not always like my sisters.  My sisters are some of the only people in my life that will tell me like it is... no sugar coating, no being politically correct-they will flat out tell me, and put me in my place if I step out of line.  It is at times like that when I don't really "like" my sisters.

Husbands are the same way.  When you get married, you take an oath to love each other unconditionally.  You pledge that through "sickness or health, for richer or poorer" you will love your spouse... but you do not pledge to like them. Love and like are so different.  Love in many ways is easy, it is emotional, it is nonsensical, it is hard to control.   It is hard to like someone unconditionally.  It takes time, patience, understanding, and most importantly, respect.  I must admit through the chaos of life, I forgot about that.  I admit it, I took my husband for granted... we took each other for granted. I always say at the end of the day when I am tired, and worn down, he gets the worst of me.  And while in the spirit of admitting to my poor behavior, I will admit there are days when I can be more friendly to the drive-thru pharmacist at CVS than to my own husband- the man who promised to "put up" with me for the rest of his life.

So, what made me realize I really like my husband?  A much needed mini-vacation to a ski resort.  We spent two days doing something we love together; skiing.  It was just the two of us, which is a first since before we had the boys.  We chatted like best friends on the lifts, and we supported each other on the slopes down...  He helped me with my form, and I helped him realize he is no longer an 18 year old that can do 360s off jumps.  We had beers at the bottom of the slopes, and told stories, and we laughed- A LOT.  We talked about how lucky we are to have each other, and about how lucky we are to have our lil monkeys who at the time were 150 miles away (thank god:)).   Somehow when we were away from the chaos and stress how everyday life, we were able to take a breathe and realize, damn we are lucky.  We love each other, but more importantly we like each other.  There was no one else in the world I wanted to be with in the middle of the West Virginia mountains, but him.  It was a gentle reminder that we do really make a good match, and I need to remember to take a moment to have a moment together- and like him.

From one soul to another,
Liking is as important as Loving

Trying to "Fit In" Doesn't End in High-school

 I look back on my time in high-school fondly.  I made really great friends. Friends that I have grown up with, friends who I still consider to be some of my closest friends.  We were lucky, when everyone was trying to "find their place" and "fit in," we found each other.  We formed a pact.  A pact that is strong, and still exists through the years.  Unfortunately for us, we have all spread out. There are a few gals still in Pennsylvania, one in Florida, one soon to be in Australia, and me, here in lovely Virginia.  Our bond is still strong despite the miles between us.

Because, I was blessed with finding such great friends in high-school, I often forget about the bumps in the road before we formed our pact. You see, I was an awkward teen. I mean the kind of teenage girl who grew 5 inches in the 9th grade, had braces, and hit puberty really late.  I was so gawky, and skinny and just flat out weird looking. I was insecure and had a really hard time feeling good in my own skin. It wasn't until after our lil pact became a group that I started feeling confident in myself.  It was like I had found my place, found my backbone, and with those ladies behind me I felt like I could conquer the world. They are with me through thick and thin, and we never let things come between us. 

You know recently, I have been feeling like I am back in high-school... Early high-school before I found my friends. Being a new mom kind of makes you feel that way... You are insecure, and you don't really feel confident in what you are doing. I second guess myself on everything... What kind of milk they should be drinking, to what preschool we should attend... I feel as though I am trying to find my place all over again. What kind of mom am I? What kind of family are we? Am I an organic momma who grows all her own fruits and vegetables, and makes her own baby food? Or am I more practical in the sense that I am okay with buying pre-canned food? Cloth diapers or disposables? Public or private schooling? Where do we fit? And unlike high-school where you are making the decisions for yourself... This Is a big deal- my two lil men's lives depend on these choices... It is enough to keep one awake at night, and believe me it does.

Through all my second guessing, I guess what I've learned through all of this is; my main goal is to have a happy, well balanced family.  If i stay focused on that goal, i believe i will eventually find my place, find my groove, and "fit in."

From one soul to another,

BE TRUE