noc·tu·ary (n.) a record of what passes in the night; an account kept of the events or thoughts of night.
I've always had an affinity for the night, it's when I work best, I find comfort in the absence of light and its quiet stillness, my thoughts become clearer and more pronounced then, maybe that's partially to do with our three young children filling all other moments throughout the day.
In my new body of work, I am exploring the fleetingness of time through the absence of light, causing the viewer to look deeper into the illusion of void, which in reality has much less depth than they think.
Life,
it's shorter than you think,
therein lies the beauty.
After becoming a caretaker for my husband I realized just how fleeting time is, how the concept of tomorrow is a promise not easily kept. My garden became my refuge, a place to tend, a place to laugh, a place to cry, a place to marvel. The more uncertainty that filled our lives, in regards to how much time my husband has left, forced me to evaluate every aspect of my life and confront why I routinely scheduled joy instead of seeking joy every day, even in the mundane.
My work in flower preservation is a lesson in growth, in learning to let go of what I should and only hold on to what I can.
My work is a continual reminder that there is always beauty to behold and joy to be found simply because it bloomed, because it lived, no matter how fleeting a time, or harsh the weather, or rocky the soil, flowers, they still bloom, and so should we.
- Krystal
]]>I have never done a year in review, mostly because the last few years I wanted to forget entirely, going over painful reminders was like slicing open wounds that were healing— but this year I felt like I wanted to look back if only to see how far we’ve come, to remind myself that even though life is far from perfect and harder than I ever thought imaginable, we made it through.
I use to get to the end of the year and wish I could do a year in rewind, re-write the story, live more fully within the moments I let slip past, or a year in fast forward, wiping my brow and exclaiming “phew! Glad that’s over.” This past year was a year we chose to savor— in a way 2020 to us was a gift, a gift of togetherness because the year before was the most horrendous year of our lives, and being together was not something I thought we would be blessed with.
I haven’t talked much about my husband's illness this year, partly because it was too hard to show up on social media and stay positive amongst such hate last year, as I’m sure you can relate. We were all faced with the raw versions of ourselves, and seeing once hidden versions of friends, family, and strangers alike proved taxing and saddening.
For us, 2019 was far harder and so we decided to make 2020 ours, no matter what the world decided.
We started the year with Radiation treatment starting the day after Christmas and well into the New Year, something we fought tooth and nail to get him— and he weathered it like a champ. There was a day that he called me into the bathroom, I assumed he was about to have a seizure, (which in the shower is my nightmare, trying to move a convulsing 180-pound wet man is nearly impossible, trust me, my back and my chiropractor know well) as he was taking a shower, I found him standing there with chunks of hair in his hands— and at that moment he needed a different kind of support.
No one really prepares you for the “in sickness” or “for worse” part of your vows, or maybe you assume that “for worse” will be something else entirely, “and sickness” will not touch you until old age. No one tells you what it is to shoulder your entire household, no one teaches you how to be a pillar so that your family can lean meanwhile your knees are buckling— but you do it. You would be surprised at the things you can do when you have no choice, you can do anything when the option to turn around and change circumstances is no option at all. But you know what? No one tells you that you can create “for better,” but trust me my friend, you most assuredly can, when you let go.
There were days that I got through on my hands and knees, days filled with breakthrough seizures that triggered my grief,
There were days where we laughed so hard we cried,
There were days that all we did was soak up the joy our children so freely exuded,
Some days/most days were spent in the garden,
most days he spent in bed, or on the couch, his mind and body wiped,
some we pent under the big oak tree,
but every day was spent together, something I’ll forever be thankful for.
2020 was the year I dug in.
It was the year I created something from nature, from my garden every day, growing my little shop from the ground up, learning, failing, succeeding, rinse, and repeat. It was grueling, but everything worthwhile is, so they say, and at the end of the day my garden, the one that saved me all those years ago, now sustains us all.
I planted the garden, my garden, for me, it was a love letter to myself, a pillar of strength that returns every year without fail,
it’s the place I spoke and often cried out to God for help,
it’s where I learned the lesson of letting go,
it’s where I learned to savor life,
Life— it fades just as quickly as my poppies bloom, if you look away or wait, you’ll miss it.
Each turn of the season taught me more and more.
Time marched across a painted sky, and we chose every day to look up in awe.
I want to tell you something about seeking joy, just because it’s something I choose day-in and day-out, does not mean each day is filled with butterflies and rainbows, quite the opposite— seeking joy means that taking the time to stop and look up means you might just see a butterfly or even a rainbow you normally would have missed because you‘re waiting to experience it on the days you scheduled joy.
I don’t know what 2021 will have in store for us, some days his neurologist's words ring in my ears, “it’s only a matter of when the AVM will rupture again,” while others are spent far far away from those thoughts.
What I do know, is come what may, joy will be there.
I share our story, not for pity's sake, but to provide a soft place to land for those who face hardship as well, no matter what that hardship looks like for you.
Always stop and smell the proverbial roses, it will make all the difference, it’s what makes a life well spent.
All moments may not be joy-filled, but I promise you can find joy every day,
if you seek it.
xo,
Krystal
FEATURED: Couch by Medley Home
]]>These past two weeks have been filled with our very first romp with the dreaded, hand foot and mouth, gosh I pray we never get that again, it was THE WORST. To make matters worse, I woke up this morning with a sore throat, can I not get a break? So I pulled out a trusted recipe from my dear friend Anna Laero, to soothe my throat, that felt as if I had swallowed a handful of sand.
It's a delicious, easy, and effective little drink that I thought I'd share with you!
Makes approx 20oz
20 oz boiling water
1 small cinnamon stick
2 whole cloves
1 small whole clove of garlic finely grated or mashed
1/2 Lemon Juiced or sliced
1/2 tablespoon FRESHLY grated ginger
1tsp apple cider vinegar
1-2 tea bags of echinacea
1+ Tbsp honey to taste
* The cinnamon stick and cloves should be put in a tea bag or tea ball to steep
Steep and feel better soon!
I hope you enjoy it. As much as you can with a stuffy nose.
I don't know about you, but sometimes I put on a fur coat, head to my kitchen, and shake up a quick cocktail while channeling my best 40's star, usually Audrey Hepburn's 'Sabrina.' No? You don't do that? Well, I highly recommend it.
Anywhoooo, here is a yummy little cocktail you can whip up in less than 5 minutes to help get you through those pesky Monday blues!
Let's call this...
You'll Need
1 1/2 Shot of Vodka
Simple Syrup
Raw sugar
1/2 Shot St.Germain
1/4 Cup Grapefruit Juice
Method:
Sugar the rim, I like to use simple syrup instead of water. (Who doesn't like things a lil sticky + Sweet?)
Fill your shaker full of ice
Add vodka & St. Germain
A splash of simple syrup (to taste)
1/2 Cup of Grapefruit Juice
Shake Shake Shake!!!!
Pour, without the ice
*Add a lemon twist, optional.
and Voilà! A fresh and delicious drink that's able to cure any Monday blues, ENJOY.
xo,
Krystal
]]>I've always held on to things a little more tightly than I should.
I mourn things long before they’re gone, people, experiences, nuance, I've been this way since I was young.
That longing for moments to stay resulted in me clinging tightly to those precious moments I knew would eventually come to an end. It’s changed the way I look at life, now I go all in, whatever it is, I'm right there, present, deep in the experience. Carpe Diem, it's something that I work at every day without fail, I acknowledge those heavyhearted feelings and then pack them away so I can fully immerse myself in my life.
The other day I was sitting at a coffee shop writing and my phone rang, it was from an unknown number, I answered it for no particular reason, I never answer my phone, it was the Radiation department calling for my husband. It took me a few minutes to realize what the phone call was about, and it wasn't really until I got home and asked my husband if his Dr. had scheduled him for another procedure, angiogram, MRI, etc, did I understand. This was the consult about actual Radiation, how many rounds he'll need, what will happen, the risks, what it will entail, etc, he still needs one more brain surgery before he can begin, but this was it. In the back of my mind I knew this was coming of course, my body, seemingly more aware of the looming time than my mind, proven by my shoulders steadily shortening the space between themselves and my ears, plus a constant and very painful eye twitch had plagued me for the past three days, but for the first time in what seems like forever, my mind was free from that eternal countdown
This past month we have taken a break from the appointments and the surgeries, I have purposely not really talked about it to anyone about it either, I needed a break, we needed a break. I just wanted to enjoy life for a moment, without the Dr.'s telling me the statistics and horrible odds, without the well-meaning sorry faces looking back at me when I talk about my reality, without explaining, without thinking about it constantly. It was blissful really, well, as blissful as my reality can get at the moment, never the less it was something I really needed.
I emersed myself in work, I watched my children play, I document the seemingly mundane moments between my husband and our girls, I meditated, I traveled, we danced, we loved, I lived, and rested easy.
I didn't expect that simple phone call to hit me as hard as it did. As I stood in my bedroom folding laundry I realized that my Dad who had been with us for the past week was leaving to go back to Costa Rica in two days and that my husbands next surgery and Radiation were upon us; these thoughts, hanging over me like led.
I want to stay here, in this moment, I want to stop time where I know we are happy, free, I'm not ready to step into the unknown, I'm not ready to fight this internal battle of "how much time do we have," I'm not ready to do the hard work again.
...but here I am,
a little wiser,
a little steadier,
a little more prepared,
on the edgeof the unknown
Really it's the same as any other day you kiss your lovonese's goodbye or goodnight isn't it...
*This is QUITE strong so it can be adjusted to taste and preference of spice level!
4 Cups Milk
3 Tablespoons Hershey’s Dark Chocolate Cocoa
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 Tablespoon Cinnamon
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon powdered ginger
1 teaspoon ground chipotle chili
½ teaspoon star anise
½ teaspoon clove
½ teaspoon allspice
½ teaspoon nutmeg
Salt (preferably smoked) to taste
Ground black pepper to taste
Pour milk into a pot over medium-low heat. Add ingredients one at a time stirring each until well incorporated. Bring to a simmer and whisk vigorously for one minute. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream or some marshmallows sized to your liking.
By my friend,
Anna Laero
]]>I thought the storm had passed,
that the clouds were clearing.
I wrap my arms around myself tighter, my breath clouds the air,
I remind myself that it’s just weather,
it’s all just weather,
the sun will rise again.
]]>I was so excited to share good news, to write something cheerful in this space, something promising. I was ready for hindsight, for things to get better, so we could breathe again, unlabored. It took me a long time to write this, I didn’t really want too, mostly because I don’t want to think about it, I want to leave it in the past as if it never happened at all; I was so far away from this feeling, determined never to return, yet here I am.
I have a few things I commonly discuss with my therapist, my fears, and what I can and cannot control. I’m a planner and always yield to caution, as if I can stop a speeding train, but this life, oh this life, it goes and it goes, unrelenting in its turning. Life was getting better, easier! Well, as easy as it can be with a thing like this; still, his medications were keeping the worst of his seizures at bay, for months now the only time he’d have one, was upon waking at night. We had found a groove, a sense of normalcy, I now work outside of the home since he can no longer work or drive, while he watches the kids that I rotate in and out throughout the day, they all have school at different times; and I usually keep one or two with me to make it easier on him. For four days I had terrifying dreams, dreams where I’d wake to him already gone, so horrible and disturbing that I couldn’t sleep, I was on edge, I started checking him more than I usually do throughout the night, it was if my soul knew something was coming.
I had only been gone an hour or so, and when I left, he was laughing and doing dishes, he was fine, everything was fine. It was last Monday and it was pouring rain, I was laughing talking about the future and working while waiting for Elly to get out of school. Something in my gut stirred, you know when you just get a bad feeling, or a voice tells you to call, that something's wrong? I looked to Maxine, she was playing with my phone, and it rang, it was him, but I already knew that. Time stopped, everything around me narrowed, focused.
“Hello?...”
...I waited, and then there he was, his broken slurred voice, “I addd aaa eeeizzu...elp me”, and then there was her voice, Charlottes, she cried out “DADDY!” and I broke a little. If ever there was a moment that I could will myself somewhere, that was it, every fiber in me was on fire. My sweet friend Sarah scooped up Maxine and carried her to my car, offering to grab my oldest from school while Julie called 911. I stayed on the phone with them, he cried, he was terrified of having another seizure, “Mommy's coming Charlotte, everything is going to be ok.” I was thirty minutes away, racing home in the pouring rain, praying for wings to get me there. My closest friends were on their way, firefighters were on their way, an ambulance was on their way, the police were on their way... and yet it didn’t feel like enough.
I never should have left, I told myself, the guilt swallowing me whole. There are things I can and cannot control, the words echoed in my mind, battling my heart. My mind knows we’ll never be able to control when or where he has a bad seizure, yet it doesn’t make the experience any less hard. I knew that one day it would happen, and it will happen again, at a restaurant, in a movie, at the store, in the car, at home, that’s the reality of our lives. Yet, I realize now that there was a large part of me that truly thought this never would, that the medication was doing its job and would continue to do its job, despite the small seizures he occasionally has upon waking, but nothing nearly as bad as the torment of this.
I drove through the rain, I drove through my tears, my closest friends talking me through that terrifying drive home. The firefighters called, they were there, holding Charlotte and taking care of him, and still I flew, I lost the time, I have no idea how long it took me to drive the twenty seven miles home, but I did, I pulled up as the paramedics were loading him into the rig, I hugged him, the medics assuring me that they got it, so I darted inside, five men stood there in my living room, laughing and playing with my youngest. “You have the cutest little girl, are you ok mama?” I nodded, it was like nothing, like breathing, they were ok, she was ok, we were ok, I hugged them, and they left.
The rest of that day sort of swam by, it was like I was outside of myself, watching as I lived out my worst nightmare, I was strangely calm, detached. My girlfriends started pulling up, their kids in tow, I started cleaning, they started cleaning, I didn’t know what else to do, the hospital was jam packed and they weren’t letting anyone in, so I had to wait.
When I got to the hospital, I sat with him as he cried, deep in the clutches of fear, “I’ve led such a foolish life, I just need to be forgiven”, he said; all I could do was hold his hand, letting him navigate his emotions. We sat together in silence, he was stable, the Dr’s think the combination of his recent surgery and pain medications caused the breakthrough seizure, so they sent us on our way. We got home and everyone left, that was that, it was over.
Later that night after the house had fallen quiet, only the soft and steady sound of breathing filled the air as my children and my husband slept peacefully; and there I was, left alone again with my thoughts, right back where we started. Feeling hallow, spent, I went outside in the frigid air, hot tears and anger sprawled across my face, I screamed out into the heavens, because this is hard.
Image by Anna Laero Photography
]]>Thirty-four. That’s the number of monarchs I raised and released last year.
As I drove home through a fog-laden dawn, with only our three girls and the soft glow of a slivered moon after dropping my husband off for surgery, tears began to fall; warming my face, reminding me that I still feel, no matter how much I harden my exterior.
Fear has a way of seeping through the cracks sometimes, so I use it, turning it into a lesson I can manage, but sometimes, sometimes the fear is just there, resting on my heart and running down my face.
The voice over the radio weaved its way into the air, the monarchs have arrived in Mexico to overwinter and their numbers are up 144% this year, and I sobbed.
I began my garden two years ago, with nothing but tears, a shovel, and a baby on my back...moving soil to heal my broken heart from a child we’d lost along the way. My garden, it saved me.
The monarchs started off as just two little caterpillars that I happened upon one day, one male, and one female turns out. In the following months those two butterflies turned into Thirty-four eggs, I hatched and cared for them without fail, even during the worst of my husband's illness. Those were the days where my husband barely knew me, the days where I was more lost than I ever thought a person could be. The caterpillars turned into a chrysalis in the days right after his first two major seizures, and a part of me felt so silly continuing to tend to thirty-four hungry caterpillars as our entire world was falling apart, but I did. Two weeks later the butterflies began to emerge, I would sit and watch with mixed emotions as they would, one by one, enter this world again, changed, beautiful and shining; each emergence as touching as the last. I started sitting my husband outside in a chair every day so he could watch them emerge too, sometimes he would fall asleep, but sometimes he would stay awake and marvel with me at these stunning little creatures, each butterfly brought with them the only moments of joy we could see at the time outside of our children.
Thirty-four monarchs,
Thirty-four moments of joy,
Thirty-four promises,
Thirty-four beginnings,
...and then it came to me, my husband is thirty-four too, what a beautiful coincidence.
The sky began to warm with spirit of the morning as I drove the rest of winding road home, quiet and alone I smiled, through the tears and the pain and the uncertainty, I smiled, they had made it, my monarchs.
]]>It's Friday ya'll! Do you guys have anything fun planned for the weekend? I'm dying to get out for a little adventure with the kiddos!
Over the last month or so I've fallen in love with some new products, and I want to share them with you.
Skin care - I live in an unbearably hot part of California and my skin is seriously in need of all the help it can get right now. Also, I turned 32 this month, and I swear grey hairs and fine lines just popped up out of nowhere, YAY AGING. I needed to start some kind of facial ritual besides randomly washing my face and moisturizing once a month, like when I was 20 (sigh). So I created my own facial mask blend, using Honey & Sage Co.'s Cleansing Grains. I even mixed up a batch for my good friend whose has been complaining of the same ailments and she's been seeing amazing results too, spread the love I say! Don't get me wrong, I'm all for getting older, but I don't have to feel like the guy from Tales from The Crypt Keeper while doing it.
1 tbl Cleansing Grains
Witch Hazel - A few squirts, just enough to make a thick paste.
2 drops lavender essential oil (by young living)
Pick Me Up - I haven't been able to drink caffeine since having kids without inducing a panic attack, I even have to be careful of certain green teas. Seriously though!? I needed some Haaalp, I have three kids under 4, aka I basically wake up tired. I found that the Holy Wellness Tea by Honey & Sage CO. gives me the perfect pick me up without the nasty side effects.
Bandaid Schmandaid - I can't keep bandaids stocked in this house, I swear my kids think that they are stickers, and I find them everywhere, until of course one of us gets a scrape and we actually need one. The Solution? Wound Powder by Fat & The Moon. It clots the blood and serves as an antiseptic to boot, I'd say that's winning!
Style - It's no secret that I'm obsessed with the brand Mom Culture, and she just re-did her 'Motherhood Winging It' Tee, which is basically my parenting style... winging it. It's cute and comfortable, and the owner is as sweet as pie, can you ask for anything more?!
Vajayjay - This might be TMI... but like any good girlfriend I have GOT to share! After popping out three kids in roughly 3 years mine can get a tad pissed every once in a while. Fun new changes include Yeast infections and sweat (what is with the sweaty vagina?! Hasn't it been through enough?). Well, the Yoni Duster from Fat and The Moon has saved my life, a few sprinkles and boom, happy vagina. You're welcome.
xo,
Krystal
1. 'Nourish' hand-blended organic tea by Honey & Sage Co.
2. 'Motherhood Winging It' Tee by Weestructed
3. 'Wound Powder' by Fat and The Moon
]]>Homemade ice pops during my childhood generally speaking meant orange juice with a cap-full of vanilla extract (if we got lucky) poured into the cold pack blue ice cube trays. Likely one of us four sisters fighting for the right of being assigned the delicate task of expertly poking the toothpicks through the carefully pressed tinfoil over the trays without tearing it which would indefinitely result in a dreaded crooked Popsicle stick.
During the summer months since having a toddler (or two) in the house, I attempt to keep a stock of easily made ice pops on hand in our freezer because....honestly how much more summery can you get? A cold snack for mama and babes? absolutely. Thanks to the usual overabundance of seasonal fruit that we manage to have in our house thanks to neighbors, family, and farmers market purchases our cold treats are generally themed around whatever we've got on hand.
After my husband brought home over two pounds of cherries and promptly sat the bags in my lap after admittedly devouring at least half of them between the four of us I thought what better way to use the little sweet tarts than making a grown-up version of my favorite childhood summer treat.
The smell of the warm cherries combined with the near overwhelmingly perfumed foraged drying rose petals from my mother in laws property sitting in the basket on my counter smelled like heaven itself.
Thus, this icy treat that I share with you that not only myself and my husband loved but also both of our boys surprisingly loved as well came about.
Of course my eldest wanted to poke the Popsicle sticks through the tinfoil ever so gingerly to not ruin the foil because...after all...crooked Popsicle sticks are the worst aren't they?
What you will need:
1 can of coconut milk
approximately 1 1/2 cups fresh cherries, pitted and chopped
1 heaping Tbsp dried rose petals (you can find these at most tea shops or online)
4 tbsp almond milk
a dash of vanilla
1-2 tsp honey (this is really to personal taste as some like it sweeter, some like it not)
Blender
Popsicle mold
Instructions:
This recipe makes approximately 6 smaller ice pops but can be easily adjusted for whatever amount you might want to make and also the strength of the flavors if you aren't fond of strongly floral flavored things you can cut back slightly on the number of rose petals used! If your final mixture is too strong for your personal taste you can also add a bit more of either milk.
In a small saucepan pour almost the whole can of coconut milk and add almond milk
Turn burner onto low-med heat and warm milk until its just simmering
Add rose petals and stir slowly on low heat until petals lose most of their color and milk becomes fragrant
Strain petals and place milk back into the saucepan
Add chopped cherries to milk and cook until cherries become a bit soft
Take off of heat and allow milk and cherries to cool a bit
Add vanilla and honey to taste.
Pour mixture into a blender and blend until all pieces of cherries are gone
Pour mixture into your molds and freeze until firm
Enjoy your "you can't get more summery than this" treat!
By my friend, Anna Laero
]]>A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them. ~Victor Hugo
I'd ask you to stay
~
...but the wind calls your name
The grasshoppers and the endless fields of wildflowers are meant for you to discover.
The dirt and the creepy crawly things are waiting for you to uncover.
Muddy puddles and raindrops are longing to kiss your cheeks.
The horizon leads to faraway places, all of which I wish for you to see.
~
...I'd ask you to stay, even if only for a little while, but the wind calls your name.
There's a restlessness that stirs. A longing for a life slower than the current pace my feet have chosen. A yearning to dig my toes into the sand, as I watch as my children run free into the calm waters surrounding the Island that harbors my father's youth.
The perfectly aged sun-kissed hands of those older and wiser than I, the throwing of nets and the catching of fish, full bellies, wild rooster crows, and open doors, the epitome of the community I search for resides just beyond the horizon.
With every mile that flys past the window, stress falls from my shoulders and I sigh in sweet relief. It's ok to be slow there, it's ok to adopt a snail's pace, stopping where you please, truly living in the moment. It's ok for children to just BE children there, experiencing all that life has to offer at their own pace. There's no one forcing them to adapt to a world that caters to single adults. Time is what it's meant to be there, a slow melodic ticking, faded deep into the background.
A part of me is already there waiting, buried in the warm sand with the crabs. Part of me is dancing on the rays of the sun cresting over the mountain peaks that whisper my Grandfathers name.
I'm almost there, I'm almost home.
]]>
Time is a funny thing. It travels in such various speeds, leaving traces of itself across buildings and faces alike.
When I was young, looking at my parents I thought to myself, "wow, my parents are old, and they must know EVERYTHING". Their age, so far away in my young eyes.
Now I'm sitting on the cusp of thirty years around the sun. Some would say I'm still young and know nothing of life, some would say I'm old and look at me with wondering eyes. I look at myself and see laugh lines, each one a reminder of the good times that I've had. I see calloused yet strangely soft hands, mothers hands, both comforting and strong. I see a body that has miraculously birthed two wonderful little humans, squishier than it once was, time has a talent for 'loosening', a brilliant lesson if you ask me. I see an array of old scars, reminding me of a daredevil past.
I am Twentynine years old, I belong to more people than I ever thought I would, raising children the best way I know-how. Married to a man who once was as wild as me, who has seen this body age over fourteen years. My body shows age, evidence of time passed. While my mind knows nothing of this, only memories scattered about, some faded and some vibrant with color. I'm still 24, wild and free, I belong to no one and no one belongs to me. I'm still 18, and I know everything there is to know about life, my nights are longer than my days, and my appetite for life rages full force. I'm still 14, carefree and naive, I feel every emotion as if it were my last. I am still 6, staring at the world through rose-colored glasses, laying in the grass, counting the ants as they go by, lost in thought, no trace of "time" on my mind.
Time, you are a funny thing, you trespass gradually, and in a way, all at once. Clever...very clever.
~
"What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know." ~Saint Augustine
"I still find each day too
short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see." ~John Burroughs
Remember when you were a child and fifteen minutes seemed like a lifetime? It was as if you could pack the span of a day into those nine hundred seconds.
Children, they have the secret, the secret of time well spent. They live in the now, and the moments in between, savoring each and every passing minute like the last lick of an ice cream cone.
I want to live like that. I want to stop counting down the minutes until bedtime, I want to stay in each an every moment like my children do so well. Sometimes I wonder if the years are so short because I'm rushing it --Rushing to a time when the house is still, and sleep is prevalent.
At the end of the day, as I gaze at my children, sticky with sweat, I can't help but sigh as smiles drift across their tired faces...it's then I ask myself, why am I rushing? I need to slow down because these seconds are precious, every last one.
Today I took a selfie because today it was just me. There was no baby drool down my neck, no milk stained shirt, no bra with escape hatches. It was just me and my husband on set working side by side for Intel. I was me, in my element, having conversations with people who were over two feet tall.
As I left the restroom, I caught my reflection, and I saw...me, just me. I realized that I'm still the same girl I used to be deep down, the same crazy, fun-loving, adrenaline chasing, free-spirited dreamer, just evolved, and with a few added titles, Mama and Wife. So I smiled, flipped my hair, and took a picture. So when I'm lost in the forest of motherhood, hidden under the laundry, the dishes, and the everyday routine, I can look at this picture and remember...I'm still me, the same crazy girl taking a selfie in the mirror.
{"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day." ~Vincent Van Gogh}
Night fell, and just for a moment, time stood still.
The steady breathing of my children surrounds me, I dare not move, not just for fear of waking them, but because moving would mean that I would no longer be able to soak up the sweet newness of their skin, or feel their warm bodies up against mine. One day, all to soon, I'll lay here with my hand resting on the cool empty space's left behind by my children, and I'll drift back to the days when my milk stained sheets held the sweet smell of a newborn...Where every breath they exhaled, I breathed in, and every whimper they made was answered by my hand gently placed upon their back, as I whispered "it's ok, mama's here", gently in their ear. It's now, right here, in this moment, thrown smack in the midst of the "everyday" life of a mom, that I'm reminded that there is no place on earth I'd rather be, than right here, surrounded by innocence and love.
"We have a secret in our culture, and it's not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong." ~Laura Stavoe Harm}
Rain is a stranger here, we don't always get the chance to stand in the midst of it as the earth rinses itself free of what we've left here.
Every time I've birthed a child, it's rained an out of nowhere rain. So when I woke up to the sweet sound of the life giving liquid hitting our roof while laying between the best parts of me, I smiled.
No matter how scarred we leave this earth, it will always heal itself, rinsing away the remnants of damage.
My journey to healing starts in this moment, standing here in the middle of the road, the rain rinsing away the hurt, the scars, the pain left by a birth that was out of my control. I refuse to let the fear define me, or take away the wonderment that is birth. I must show myself grace so that I can heal, so that I can breath easy, so that I can bear whatever comes next. Being strong sometimes means admitting weakness, fear, and all the things that hold you back from truly living.
There will be time for tears, I will wobble, I will have my moments...but not here, not in this space. Because today unlike the days I've brought life to this earth, this rain...this rain is for me.
The house is amazingly quiet, there is only the steady breathing of my children filling the air with sweetness and unbelievable joy. My mother is somewhere in my home busying herself with the things that mothers do. The love is bursting at the seams, spilling through the front door, creeping out of the rooftop, finding its way into every nook and cranny. Thinking back on the birth of Maxine only four short days ago, truth be told, I didn't see myself here. Her birth, though miraculous, all births are nothing less, was scary. The speed at which she came to this earth shook me to my very core, 4cm to birth in less than 18 minutes will do that to you. There was no thinking, no calm smooth room, no dim lights, just...life, as if someone flipped a light switch. When I held her in my arms for the first time, it took me a minute to process what exactly had just happened.
I've faced death more than the normal person probably should have. An adrenalin junkie at heart, I've taken risks, lived life to the fullest, driven faster than any road in the U.S. will allow...but that's another story. After having had my children, caution guards me, life is precious because they are.
When the moment where you've just brought life into this world for the second time, and are now facing your own mortality arises, fear is so tangible you can cut it with a knife. The room deafens, faces change, and husbands crumble.
I developed, preeclampsia sometime during the last few days leading up to, or possibly during delivery. I watch helplessly as my world turned to a place of confusion and terror. I watched my mothers face break as she spoke the words every mother is trained to speak, "you're going to be ok." I lay there as my body shook uncontrollably, as my speech became twisted and slurred, as my head began to pound. I stared at my mother, trying to read her face as I asked again if I would be alright, to promise me... I'd be alright. I looked down and the little beauty I had just ushered into this space, at my husband who sat helpless, holding our oldest daughter closer than I ever thought possible. I looked at the screen displaying my Blood Pressure, 200/106, and thought, this is happening...right now...the minutes blurred and I chose to hold on as long as I could, to breath as long as I could, to spill all the love onto a child that I just met, because I didn't know if she would ever know me.
"Time is an old firmly rooted tree; we are the breeze rustling its leaves." ~Terri Guillemets}
I'm ready. I've felt every emotion there is to be felt during pregnancy. Unlike my first, I've embraced every piece of it, like standing in the rain in the middle of a storm, letting the water drench my clothes and cool my skin, I lived deep in this pregnancy. I wrote it all down, I confessed my fears, I rejoiced in the magic of it all, I cried and leaned on my husband when it got hard, I cherished every moment with my firstborn, etching into my memory the moments when it was just her and I. I've had false alarms, and more contractions than I can count. The weeks have slowed me down as I speed towards this delivery, and yet these last few days have me at a standstill, I'm present, here in each moment, treating myself gently. Waiting...as everyone watches me out of the corner of their eye for signs that he/she's coming. In my heart, I know it'll be an 'out of nowhere surprise,' just like Elly. Just when I think I can take no more, when the water calms, when my mind rests, when I surrender, when my body is at ease, that's when I'll work. That's when time will become meaningless, and I will bring this new life into my arms, and once again I'll say...it was all worth it, every bit!
"If a Mother's success is to be measured by whether she teaches her child that he or she can do whatever they put their minds to, she is a triumphant Mother. -My Mother"
People said I was crazy to go from Medicine to Art School, people said I was crazy to have babies 18 months apart, people said I was crazy to start and release a magazine well into my third trimester...people say a lot of things. The words of others can stop you dead in your tracks, they can make you turn around, rethink a decision, and doubt yourself, no not me. I'll reach higher than the highest tree, and farther than I thought possible because my mother told me I could. She set no limits to what I could achieve, no bounds to what I could accomplish. She only told me to go, go out, and everything you touch, everything you do, do it with your whole heart, utilize all your God-given talents to their fullest and utmost potential. I am what I am, I do what I do because SHE said I could. If I could be half, a quarter, a smidgen of the women she is...I will have succeeded. I'm blessed to have a Mother like her, one day my children will see, they'll see just how amazing their Grandmother (Gaga) truly is.
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Roll the dice, and let the chips fall where they may.} This weeks series of ups and downs, where my body is concerned, left me weary. Contractions swallowed more minutes of my day and night than I thought possible. Though each one brings me a little bit closer to meeting this love of mine, the struggle to stay positive and not to curl up in a little ball and cry is very real. I won't lie, this test of strength, of courage, of faith, is a hard one at times. I have to continually remind myself to search for those moments where the light shines it's brightest, whether it's in the form of loving smiles from my daughter or the encouraging words from my husband. To recognize the good that surrounds me, and that the life I carry, no matter how hard it is at times, is a precious gift from God.
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You grow, although disguised... I know you. I know the shape of your hands as they slide across my skin, I know the sweet curve of your back, I know the length of you, stretching towards my ribs, reaching towards the light. What a thing, to take part in creation, to bring life into this world, to be handed a deeper love than you have ever known, to hold in your hands the best parts of you. The pain has taught me to breathe, to slowly take it all in. I've learned how to accept the good with the bad and to love it just the same. Silently I'll know, silently you'll know, and I will follow you. I will get lost in a land of waves and silence, a place I know well and am learning not to fear. In the end, I will follow you, I will take my time, breath, and ease you into this world. A birth of the soul heart and mind. In the end, we'll gaze at one another, I'll know you, and you will know me...I'm your mama, and you are mine forever.
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We went to the grand opening of a local women's health/birthing center to support my husband over the weekend. Of course I wanted Elly to look her best, but donkey rides, sidewalk chalk, fried pickles, bounce houses, and sticky treats had other ideas. The desire to pick her up and dust her off every five seconds was very real...but watching her enjoy life to the fullest, running around with other children, wrapped in laughter made me take pause. What is childhood without green knees from freshly cut grass, or sticky remnants of bright red Popsicles stuck to their cheeks? They don't care about their new shoes, or keeping up appearances. Life is there simply to be LIVED! So I said yes to the mess, yes to making her childhood everything it should be, yes to living, I mean really living. Because you only get one childhood and she deserves nothing less.
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We went to the grand opening of a local women's health/birthing center to support my husband over the weekend. Of course I wanted Elly to look her best, but donkey rides, sidewalk chalk, fried pickles, bounce houses, and sticky treats had other ideas. The desire to pick her up and dust her off every five seconds was very real...but watching her enjoy life to the fullest, running around with other children, wrapped in laughter made me take pause. What is childhood without green knees from freshly cut grass, or sticky remnants of bright red Popsicles stuck to their cheeks? They don't care about their new shoes, or keeping up appearances. Life is there simply to be LIVED! So I said yes to the mess, yes to making her childhood everything it should be, yes to living, I mean really living. Because you only get one childhood and she deserves nothing less.
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...In a moment, the tears, the sleepless nights, the doubt, the "am I a good mother?", the tantrums, all my frustrations, the "hard" part of motherhood, is washed away. All that's left is the beauty, the enchanting, spellbinding beauty of this moment.
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...In a moment, the tears, the sleepless nights, the doubt, the "am I a good mother?", the tantrums, all my frustrations, the "hard" part of motherhood, is washed away. All that's left is the beauty, the enchanting, spellbinding beauty of this moment.
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{With what price we pay for the glory of motherhood. ~Isadora Duncan} And so the hard part begins. I was hoping to skip this part, since the rest of my pregnancy has been a cool breeze, compared to when I carried Elly, but here I am. Prodromal labor/irritable uterus, call it what you may, ten weeks of REAL contractions will test the will power of any mother. When I carried Elly, I thought my body was failing me, I cursed those last weeks, praying, wishing it would all just be over. This is where pregnancy became work, this is where I wanted to quit, this is where I question my ability as a women to carry life.
I know now that it's just me, it's the way I carry my children into this world. So here we go, I have to believe it'll be easier this time around, for my sanity, for my peace of mind. I know the reward that waits for me at the end of this and for you my sweet child I would pay any price.
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{With what price we pay for the glory of motherhood. ~Isadora Duncan} And so the hard part begins. I was hoping to skip this part, since the rest of my pregnancy has been a cool breeze, compared to when I carried Elly, but here I am. Prodromal labor/irritable uterus, call it what you may, ten weeks of REAL contractions will test the will power of any mother. When I carried Elly, I thought my body was failing me, I cursed those last weeks, praying, wishing it would all just be over. This is where pregnancy became work, this is where I wanted to quit, this is where I question my ability as a women to carry life.
I know now that it's just me, it's the way I carry my children into this world. So here we go, I have to believe it'll be easier this time around, for my sanity, for my peace of mind. I know the reward that waits for me at the end of this and for you my sweet child I would pay any price.
]]>{To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~Lewis B. Smedes}
Forgiveness is not only something we should show others, we must also learn how to forgive ourselves. Just as He has forgiven us, time and time again. Motherhood, parenthood for that matter, with all it's blessings will test the very fibers of your being. It can unravel you like thread on a spool, and bring you to your breaking point.
We all have moments where we fail, or rather flail at parenting, moments where we'd like to lock ourselves in a closet and just cry by ourselves for a moment. Some days I lay in bed thinking, "man, I rocked this parenting thing today!" While others I lay defeated, desperately attempting to get a rambunctious toddler to sleep, watching as the minutes and hours tic away, dreading the rising sun.
Dawn, it brings with it new beginnings, a fresh start, a new day, a chance to rock the heck out of this parenting gig. Forgive yourself for yesterday, because well, today is a blessing, it's brand new day
]]>{To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~Lewis B. Smedes}
Forgiveness is not only something we should show others, we must also learn how to forgive ourselves. Just as He has forgiven us, time and time again. Motherhood, parenthood for that matter, with all it's blessings will test the very fibers of your being. It can unravel you like thread on a spool, and bring you to your breaking point.
We all have moments where we fail, or rather flail at parenting, moments where we'd like to lock ourselves in a closet and just cry by ourselves for a moment. Some days I lay in bed thinking, "man, I rocked this parenting thing today!" While others I lay defeated, desperately attempting to get a rambunctious toddler to sleep, watching as the minutes and hours tic away, dreading the rising sun.
Dawn, it brings with it new beginnings, a fresh start, a new day, a chance to rock the heck out of this parenting gig. Forgive yourself for yesterday, because well, today is a blessing, it's brand new day
]]>{To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter. ~Euripides}
I fell in love with this man when I was 16 years old...And the day he kissed me as we stood at the top of a mountain in Muir Woods...And the day he asked me to marry him...And the day we danced in front of family and friends at our wedding... And the day his face lit up when I told him we were expecting our first child...And the day our daughter was born and he melted into tears of joy, telling me she was perfect...Just as I fell in love with him today as he rocked our daughter to sleep. I plan on falling in love with this man for the rest of my life.
]]>{To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter. ~Euripides}
I fell in love with this man when I was 16 years old...And the day he kissed me as we stood at the top of a mountain in Muir Woods...And the day he asked me to marry him...And the day we danced in front of family and friends at our wedding... And the day his face lit up when I told him we were expecting our first child...And the day our daughter was born and he melted into tears of joy, telling me she was perfect...Just as I fell in love with him today as he rocked our daughter to sleep. I plan on falling in love with this man for the rest of my life.
]]>Life, flying past me at a blistering pace, hardly giving me a moments pause to daydream of what's to come, or to prepare fully for life again with a newborn. This is not my first, there is no massive buying spree, no classes to take, no furniture to paint, only the unwrapping of bassinets, and baby swings. So when these precious little things arrived today and that same giddy, nervous, excited feeling came flooding back I took pause. With them came thoughts of who this little person growing inside me will be, thoughts of love and labor, tears and joy. Images of placing these tiny booties on even tinier feet for the first time, caused my heart to swell and my eyes to fill with tears. Just for a moment, in the craziness of life while raising a toddler I had my moment, the one that ties you ever so closely to the one you've yet to meet.
]]>Life, flying past me at a blistering pace, hardly giving me a moments pause to daydream of what's to come, or to prepare fully for life again with a newborn. This is not my first, there is no massive buying spree, no classes to take, no furniture to paint, only the unwrapping of bassinets, and baby swings. So when these precious little things arrived today and that same giddy, nervous, excited feeling came flooding back I took pause. With them came thoughts of who this little person growing inside me will be, thoughts of love and labor, tears and joy. Images of placing these tiny booties on even tinier feet for the first time, caused my heart to swell and my eyes to fill with tears. Just for a moment, in the craziness of life while raising a toddler I had my moment, the one that ties you ever so closely to the one you've yet to meet.
]]>The definition of being a "good" mom I've realized does not mean you take on anything and everything until you're rung dry at the end of the day, though sometimes that feeling is bound to happen. I've learned in order to be a good mom I have to grow and change the way I parent along with my expanding belly. I'm not only raising a child I am growing one too, and this little babe needs me to be gentle with myself.
It's funny, just when you think you nailed it, that you've got this parenting thing down, life reminds you that it truly is like a flowing river. It will not always run smooth, there will be rocks and rapids. In order not to drown, we must learn when and how to paddle, and when to lean back and look at the clouds.
]]>The definition of being a "good" mom I've realized does not mean you take on anything and everything until you're rung dry at the end of the day, though sometimes that feeling is bound to happen. I've learned in order to be a good mom I have to grow and change the way I parent along with my expanding belly. I'm not only raising a child I am growing one too, and this little babe needs me to be gentle with myself.
It's funny, just when you think you nailed it, that you've got this parenting thing down, life reminds you that it truly is like a flowing river. It will not always run smooth, there will be rocks and rapids. In order not to drown, we must learn when and how to paddle, and when to lean back and look at the clouds.
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