Land of the Free and Home of the Brave

Don't fear, this isn't a political post because this isn't a political blog. But on that note, I am beyond glad that the mid-term election is finally over, and with it a welcomed end to the phone calls, door-to-door solicitations, and the altogether awful attack ads. Can I get an amen? Ok, I've said my piece, on to what this post is really about...

So, I used to be brave, pretty fearless really. In fact, growing up, I probably could have used a much bigger dose of healthy fear. It would have spared me multiple trips to the ER, and my parents, a handsome sum in medical bills. Just to put things into perspective for you, I wouldn't have been allowed to play professional football, ya know, if I were a male and weighed about a 100 more pounds and well, had the talent to play pro-ball. Why? Because I've had 6 concussions. It's true. I have bad dreams about waking up one day, and not being able to remember who I am. So, like I said, in my early years, I could have used a little more fear and a little less "determination!"

But somewhere in my early 30s (that's right, I can't claim the "early" part anymore and not afraid to admit it!), I lost my edge, so to speak. It's almost like I woke up one morning and became a worrier. It was bizzare, seeing as I used to guide backpacking trips, ice-climb, run 24 hour races on dark mountain trails, all without a second thought of the risks I was incurring. And then suddenly, activities like playing ultimate frisbee or flying on an airplane suddenly became infused with fear and a tentativeness that I had never known. Where did this come from, I wondered. Somewhat in jest, I answered myself with, 'maybe from all of those concussions, you fool.' Interestingly enough, this significant change in my worry level correlated with getting married. I suppose it hit home that upon meeting the love of my life, my life didn't just include me anymore, rather I was building a life with another person, a life I need to show up for. I feared both something happening to my husband and something happening to me that would prevent me from getting to live out this life with him. And now, with a baby in the picture, you can only imagine the spike my worry-o-meter has taken.

Growing up, we used to drive to Florida every year to visit my grandparents. When it came to water, my parents referred to me as a fish. I loved to swim, whether it be in a pool, a lake or an ocean, I could spend hours splashing around. On those trips to Florida, I especially loved playing in the waves and sun out at Bathtub Beach on Hutchinson Island. Looking back now, I realize how free I was then. Yes, I was free and brave and uninhibited. And it was awesome. Even as an adult in my 20s, I surfed all the time without fear while living in Costa Rica. But like I said, something changed when I got married and my fear seemed to overtake my freedom. As my hubby can attest, on our honeymoon in Hawaii, I practically made him hold my hand the entire time we were snorkelling.

Recently, we took Ben on his first trip to Florida and we ventured out to that same beach of my childhood where I spent so many hours body-surfing and doing flips in the water. Standing on the beach, looking out at the waves, I found myself in a much different state of mind than when I visited there as a kid. I was wondering about what creatures might be lurking beneath the surface and at the same time, I was annoyed with myself for wondering, wishing I could just dive in. We took Ben down by the water and Tom slowly dipped just his feet into the salty blue water. His lower lip bunched up into that fat little ball that's indicative of an impending cry. And then he let it out, informing us that he didn't so much like the feel of that water. But Tom tried a couple of more times and each time, B seemed to feel a little more at ease, almost reaching the point of smiling.

Then it dawned on me that with Ben being so little, Tom and I would have to take turns going into the water. One of us had to watch Ben while the other one of us traipsed out into the big blue. Umm, that meant that if I was to go into the water, I was going to have to go it alone. I honestly, couldn't believe the fear welling up inside me. I felt like such a wuss. I tip-toed in, glimpsing back over my shoulder at my two favorite guys every 5 seconds. Ankles...knees...waist...deep breath...run back to the shore. "Ok, you can do this, Melissa, go back out there," I said, trying to muster up my courage. And then it hit me, I do not want my son to grow up with a mom who is afraid. I don't want to pass that on to him. Yes, I do hope that he has a little more of the healthy fear than I did growing up, but it's the self-limiting, joy-robbing fear that I'm talking about. Yeah, I definitely don't want him to have that.

I want to teach my son what it means to be brave, to try new things, to live free in the moment. So, I have to model that, right? Which meant, I thought to myself, I have to dive into this ocean right now. So, for the sake of my son, I did it, I dove into the ocean and I played out there for a while, like I used to as a kid. And the fear dissipated, replaced by a feeling of freedom. And I liked it...a lot. So now, I wonder what it looks like to model bravery on a daily basis? I know it means trusting God, his presence and his provision on a moment by moment basis, but how does that flush out? Because I want to model for my son what it means to be brave, not the fake 'I'm such a hero' kind of brave and not the stupid, make life-threatening choices kind of brave of my past, but true bravery. Yes, I want my son to grow up in the land of the free and the home of the brave and I don't just mean the US of A.

The Spa Day Trifecta

That's right, Ben completed his first Spa Day Trifecta today. It all began with a little mani/pedi, aka he got his fingernails and toe nails clipped. I declared this first event a success, seeing as it was completed in less than 30 minutes, with minimal squirmage, and sans blood. I tell you, it takes the precision of a surgeon to trim those little suckers! So, once all the little scratch-makers were trimmed, it was on to the hair removal event. No, it was not of the laser or wax method, just the "mommy on the prowl" method. This method can best be explained as mommy scanning B's hands and feet, with the determination of a search and rescue crew, to locate any of mommy's or Sami's (the dog) hairs gone rogue, both of which pose serious threat of another hair tourniquet (see previous post entitled, "The Hair Tourniquet - Love Deeply, Hold Loosely"). Four little culprits and a mess of toe jam later, all unwanted hairs had been successfully removed from the premises of Ben. On to the next and final event of the trifecta, skin/body treatment, including a soak, wrap, and massage. In case I lost you, we're talking about a bath and snuggle in a warm towel, followed by a little infant massage.

Why take on the trifecta in one day? Maybe I just wanted my little man to be clean and groomed. Or maybe I'm secretly craving a good dose of pampering myself, but since that's not in the budget right now, I sought the next best thing, to pamper my little one. Overall, I dare say Ben enjoyed himself, especially since I didn't clip any skin this time during the "mani/pedi." And B definitely took the gold in this trifecta, seeing as I haven't even showered yet today!

Fragility of the Moment

Moments, they come and they go and with my son, they seem to come and go quite frequently. Some moments go like this, we're playing on the floor, singing songs, shaking colorful rattles, smiling, and laughing away. Between all of the natural love I feel for my son and large amounts of oxytocin (aka the love hormone) pumping through my body, the bonding is beautiful and we're "having a moment." And then "it" happens. I'm really not sure what "it" is, except that in a split second, our "moment" is invaded by a storm of unhappiness. Ben will be in mid-laugh and then suddenly, it turns to a whine, then drifts into an all-out cry. And I find myself internally saying, "whoah, whoah, no, no, no crying, no ruining this moment, this was such a good moment we were having...too late, the moment's over." I don't know what causes Ben's mood to flip so quickly, but it happens nearly every day.

Then of course, there are those moments, albeit rare, when I feel on top of things as a mom. The moment likely occurs late morning, when I've been able to accomplish a number of things, like eating breakfast before 9am, getting us out of the house for a walk or run, then back home for some play time, and managed to get a shower and actually...whoahhhh...b-l-o-w d-r-y my hair, all before noon. I'm feeling good, found my rhythm, on top of it, oh yeah! Then, in a flash, before I can do anything to avoid it, Ben's lil tummy decides to give back his last meal, all over my shirt and just blow-dried hair! Sweet moment of feeling "put together," GONE, just like that!

Recently, I went for a walk with a friend and her baby at a nearby park. It was a beautiful colorado fall day, blue skies, bright sun, crisp air. We had a fantastic walk around the lake and when we got back to the parking lot, I was thinking about how much I was enjoying the day and how I just wanted to be outside all afternoon. That's when I noticed it, dark glass all over the parking lot. I thought to myself, "that stinks for someone," then I look up and realize that that someone was yours truly. Someone had busted the window of my car and stolen my purse (yes it was in the car, but yes it was hidden). The "this is such a beautiful, wonderful day" sentiment quickly left and was replaced with "oh my goodness, I'm here by myself with a hungry 4 month old, there's glass all over his carseat, and I have no idea what to do" thoughts.

The feelings of violation and frustration at having to replace everything in my purse aside, I was struck again by how quickly a mood or a moment can change. And I find that I could spend each beautiful moment imagining what awful or frustrating thing might happen to ruin the moment, but then I'd miss all of those beautiful moments. Moments are fragile. I want to be present in and soak in all of the sweetness of each beautiful moment that comes my way. It may flip on a dime, but if I soak them up right, even the worst things that come my way can't steal the beauty of those moments. So, here's to the small, wonderful moments of each day. May we drink them in while they're in front of us!

Wonder-Full

If I had to pick one adjective to describe Ben right now, it would be wonder-full, as in full of wonder. The wonder is found in his beautiful big blue eyes, in the way he gazes at the people around him, locking his eyes with theirs, drinking in the details of each face, emanating unsatiable curiosity. B recently ventured on his first airplane ride. Yes, we went too. As we walked onto the plane, he was wide-eyed, looking at everyone. And of course, everyone was looking at him too, most likely thinking to themselves, "oh, great, a baby. Please oh please don't let him be sitting by me!" Much to our chagrin, he fed and slept at all of the right times. But what surprised us the most, was the fascination and wonder that filled his eyes while he was awake. He swung his little head back and forth, up and down, to catch a glimpse, rather a stare, at each of the people around him. I wonder what he saw when he looked at them. I wonder what he sees when he looks up at me, eyes fixed on my face.

I can't help but think that all too often, I go through my days checking off one to-do item at a time, failing to truly "see" the strangers all around me, or right in front of me, for that matter. And often times, in the check-out lines or at doc appointments, the interaction is "courteous," a formality really. What am I missing when I fail to truly see people, when I don't take the time to really wonder about a person's day, a person's life, what it's like to walk a day in his or her shoes? Sure, I do that with my friends, my family, and my clients. But even then, I can allow silly tasks or thoughts about what to make for dinner, to take precedence and miss really seeing into the heart and soul of the person sitting right in front of me.

People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass themselves without wondering. ~ Augustine

And I ask myself, when did I stop being wonder-full, when it comes to people? Ben, thanks for teaching me yet another lesson. You are truly wonder-full and wonderful all at once! May I be more mindful and full of wonder when it comes to the people right in front of me!

Benjaminese - Finding His Voice

Many of you know that I'm passionate about helping women and kiddos find their voice. Not that I'm not interested in helping men find their voice, it's just not where my experience has been. So, naturally, one of my favorite parts thus far of being a SAHM (stay at home mom...yes, I'm trying to become a little more "with it" when it comes to cyber-mom lingo), is the privilege of helping B discover his personality and his voice. Lately he's been trying out new sounds, much like I try on clothes. Some sounds scare him and he tosses them aside like a an ill-fitting shirt. Other sounds seem to fascinate him and he practices them repeatedly, much like I don my favorite pair of jeans, over and over again. And I listen and repeat those sounds back to him, letting him know I heard him and encouraging him to keep 'talking.' I never thought I could love something so simple, but I do. I always seem to feel the need to throw in the caveat, 'for now, at least,' but not this time. This time I'll just say, I delight in hearing my lil B test out his voice!

His personality seems to be unfolding a little more each day and it's my hope to help him discover the fullness of who God created him to be. I hope to help him discover the curiosity and wonder that his mind is capable of, the strength, flexibility, and adventure that his body is capable of, and the deep, brave love that his heart is capable of. I look forward to witnessing him begin to express more and more who he is, what he's thinking, and what he's feeling. I want to empower him to use his voice to express himself. Now, I know what some of you veteran moms and dads might be thinking, 'just you wait, Melissa, oh he will express himself alright!' I know, I know I will face those moments when he 'uses his voice' to throw a tantrum in the middle of a store and to proclaim, 'but mommy, i weally weally weeeeeeally want dat new Thomas da Twain toy. yew gotta get it fer me'...and when I say no, 'but mommy pweeeeeeease...it's not fair, yew'r so mean mommy, (and possibly the dreaded words...) I hate yew mommy.' And I anticipate the mortifying moments when he asks someone if she has a baby in her tummy when she doesn't or spouts out the word, 'breast' in the middle of a restaurant! I never said I will always like what comes out of his mouth!

I'm confident that there will be countless times where I'll find myself less than thrilled with how he chooses to use his voice or what he expresses (but I'm sure they will make for good blogging material!). But hopefully along the way, we'll teach him not only to use his voice, but also to honor his parents and to respect and love other people. We'll do our best. We'll make mistakes. And so will he. But I dare to say that I'd rather have a child that knows who he is and has the courage to express what he thinks, feels, and believes, than one who lives in fear of doing so.

So for now, Ben, have at it. In the words of the renowned philosopher...Madonna, express yourself!

Spit Happens

...it sure does. And in this house, spit happens perhaps more frequently and with a bit more gusto than is common! Though, I'm now convinced that all the spit up is harder for me to handle than it is for Ben. ***If you are eating or just ate, you may want to read this another time, just a suggestion! The other day, I had recently fed Ben and we were getting ready to take Sami, our sweet and needy retriever, for a walk. I was getting Ben all cozy in the Ergo, in preparation for said walk, when all of the sudden IT happened. IT being a giant spit storm. IT was copious, IT was chunky, IT was EVERYWHERE. IT was all over the front of Ben, all down the front of me, on my arm, on my chin, in B's hair, and coating the Ergo. Sick, I know. Sorry for such a graphic description, but how else could I convey to you the paralyzing panic that I felt in that moment! :-) So, truthfully I felt paralyzed, I couldn't move. I didn't know what to do next or where to begin the process of cleaning IT up. I just stood there, frozen, covered in IT. That's when I looked down at Ben, who was also covered in IT, only to discover that he was looking up at me with the biggest, sweetest smile on his face, as if to say, 'it's ok mommy, I actually feel better now.' I couldn't help but smile too, and well, reach for my camera, of course! Though, I decided that the actual pic of when IT happened, while good for documenting purposes, was a little much to post!

It's incredible to me how much I learn, each and every day, from this little being who is so dependent on me. It seems that as adults, we tend to bottle things up inside, wanting to keep all of our weaknesses, all of our messiness to ourselves. It's all too easy to don a facade of perfection, like we've got it all together, when really there's a whole lotta gurgling goin' on inside. And even if we try to stuff it down, try to hide it, try to keep it all inside, it's eventually going to make it's way out and it sure isn't gonna be pretty when it does! I mean, who wants to vomit one's stuff all over someone else, or worse yet, be the one vomited all over! It's a lot less messy if we let it out a little bit at a time, not to mention that it's freeing to do so. So, on that one spitty day in September, my son reminded me how much it does me good, to let some things out on a regular basis and to let people see some of my not-so-perfect sides (of which there are plenty). After all, that's real life, and in real life, spit happens.

The Hair Tourniquet - Love Deeply, Hold Loosely

Murphy's Law - when the husband is away, crazy things will happen. This past week, Tom was in Costa Rica for a work trip. At one point, there was a possibility that Ben and I might tag along and make a vacation out of it, that is until we realized we need a new furnace and a.c. Ahh the fun of responsibility and the tough choices it brings. I digress. So, it was just a typical Monday morning and I was feeding Ben. I should first tell you that I often use feeding times as an opportunity to do a little grooming for Benny Boo, things like the cleaning of the eye buggars (sp?), aspirating of the nose, trimming of the nails, and cleaning of the hands and feet. I really have to stay on top of the hands and feet because I've got a little clencher on my hands. Ben clenches his hands and feet so much that a bit of sweat jam tends to build up in there. Sorry for the graphic description, but it is what it is, and it needs to be cleaned.

So, picture it with me if you will...I am sitting there, cleaning out lil B's feet, when I notice what appears to be a cut around the end joint of his middle toe. It looks like a deep cut and the end of the toe is redder than the other toes. I take a closer look at the underside of the toe and my best guess is that a hair somehow wrapped itself around B's toe, perhaps weeks ago, and has been tightening around it ever since. I am at my parents' house at the time and I show my dad. He gets out his magnifying glass (who just happens to have a magnifying glass?! My dad, I guess.) and takes a peek. "Yup," he says, "it looks like a hair is wrapped around his toe joint and it's in there deep." My dad holds Ben, while I attempt to get at it with my finger nail. No luck and it only launches lil B into a scream fest. Poor little guy.


So, what do I do? I call the pediatrician and I feel slightly silly doing it. But, I quickly feel normalized when the nurse says, "oh, a hair tourniquet." And I say, "Oh you have a name for this? It must mean he's not the first kid to have this happen." She assures me that he isn't, but seems very concerned about the possibility that the hair is cutting off B's circulation and due to the cut, possibly causing an infection in his toe. She wants me to bring him in that afternoon. I ask if I can bring him the next morning, but she is pretty adamant that he needs to come in today. Of course, the only afternoon of the entire week that I had something scheduled was this afternoon. I have two clients scheduled, one at 3:30 and one at 5:45. My dad had been planning to watch B at his house (40 min from the doc's office) while I would go to see my clients. And I am looking forward to reading my book in peace, which I never get to do, at my office during the hour between my two clients. No, such luck. The doc can see us at 4:40, so I decide to "mom up" and take Ben and my dad to my office with me. My dad, being the champ that he is, watches Ben in my office waiting room while I see my first client. Then we hop in the car, and zip over to the pediatrician's office. Fortunately, the doc has the where-with-all to have me stand up by B's head, while my dad holds his little foot. The doc puts B under an operating lamp and takes out the tiniest little instrument I've ever seen. Poor lil Ben is yelling at the top of his lungs and I'm doing my best not to burst into tears, seeing him in so much pain.

Thankfully, I do not see what the doc is doing to remove the miniscule hair that was causing so much pain. My dad said she had to cut his skin even more to remove it. Once she's done removing the hair, she shows it to me and says, "Just be glad it wasn't wrapped around another little appendage in his mid-section, we get those too." I gasp and think to myself, 'you better believe I'll be on the lookout for that!' I can't even imagine the pain it would inflict to remove a hair from THERE. So, my dad, Ben and I hop back in the car and zip back to my office where dad watches Ben again, while I see my second client. Needless to say we're all quite exhausted when we got home that night.

And there you have the story of the Hair Tourniquet!

For those of you that have known me for any length of time, you know that my life's motto or mantra or whatever you want to call it, the phrase which I desire to live out in my daily life, is Love Deeply, Hold Loosely. At different times in my life, one part of the phrase has been more challenging to live out than the other. But generally speaking, I struggle more often with the 'Hold loosely' part. And now that I have a child, I find it more challenging than ever to hold loosely. But I got to witness firsthand what happens when something wraps itself around something too tightly. It cuts off the circulation, it stops the life from flowing, and it causes pain.

Right now, it's incredibly easy to love my son deeply, of course he can't yet talk back to me in a sassy tone! But it just feels natural to love him. Ah, but the holding loosely part, not so easy. I just love him so much, I want the best for him, and I want to protect him. Yet, I know that I don't want to be a helicopter mom who controls my son's every move, something I will evermore refer to as a 'mom tourniquet!' I don't want to hold my grasp on him so tightly that he doesn't feel the freedom to be himself, to live fully. I want him to be who he was created to be and I desire to let him try new things, succeed, fail, make mistakes, and be there for him when he falls down. I want to help him navigate life, rather than plan his life. I realize that loving him deeply will often mean letting him go...whether that's 2 feet away or 2000 miles away to college. I've got a lot of growing to do though, I already tear up every time I see a commercial where a mom is sending her baby off to kindergarten for the first time. I'm so not ready to go there. So, for now, I will practice holding loosely, empowering my son to live fully into who he was created to be, whatever that is and wherever that takes him...and I'll just hope that it won't be back to the doc's office anytime soon! Easier said than done, right?!