Different Strokes, Same Folks.

New York delivered, as can be expected. And by that I mean I found the word unicorn carved into the cement somewhere along 5th Ave. If you're going to deface the public's walking foundation of a great city, I suggest you choose a word like "unicorn" to do so. I don't think it's a misdemeanor if its intent is positivity--which explains the presence of so many spray-painted "God Loves Yous" and "Jesus Saves" under overpasses.



And if New York didn't bring it with its mystical creature sidewalk vandalism, it surely did with its offering of cleverly titled shops. Case in Point:



It's the lactation kingdom of the Upper West Side, its walls covered with an impressive display of pump parts and nursing bras that hang like expensive art in a gallery. I didn't think I'd have any issues with missing a couple days of nursing Nella as it's winding to a close anyway, and I wasn't sure she was even getting anything (this milk/boob discussion's getting slightly uncomfortable). Needless to say, I had to stop by this breast kept secret for some equipment, shall we say. I asked to get hooked up with the cheapest, easiest solution which turned out to be something that resembled a cross between a PVC pipe, a giant syringe and a victrola. If you've ever seen a breast pump (okay, I officially don't love the word "breast"), you know exactly what I mean by victrola. And then try using it in a public bathroom stall. What did I learn from all this? Well, I learned never to admit you're going to throw your rhymes-with-quest milk away when you're standing in the middle of a shop dedicated to holy mother's milk. You might as well just light a hundred dollar bill on fire. When you are asked what you plan to do with your "expressed milk" (still uncomfortable) and if you need a bottle/ice bags/insulated iron safe in which to keep it, just smile and say "yes" and "yes" and "of course."

Oh, but I'm getting utterly sidetracked now.

Back to New York.


E. 46th St.

I was going to write this post with the whole angle of leaving my kids and what that was like and this dual life we have of mothering, nurturing, loving and yet fostering our own passions and dreams as well. How it kind of melds together, pushes and pulls and generally works out in the end.



I loved every minute of New York and yet my true statement of "I let go, I enjoyed me time, I knew the kids were just fine without me" can be contradicted by the same truth of "I missed them and thought about them all the time." If that makes any sense.

For me though, the more interesting angle on this trip is the realization of just how alike we all are. Moms, not moms, New Yorkers, Midwesterners, Cab Drivers, what have you. My favorite thing about traveling a little more the last two years has been meeting people. People who live completely different lives, enjoy different pastimes, like different music, jobs, food, etc.

I've always had a tendency to be very conscious of what made me different in social settings. Not necessarily to be intimidated by it but at least to be aware that standing in the middle of a busy street, unfolding a giant NY map or hailing a cab the "wrong" way made me stand out. To be sitting at a table with beautiful, successful New York single women and have that moment of "I'm the crafty dork mom who keeps checking her phone for pictures of her kids." The more I really spend time with people though--open myself up to different atmospheres, allow myself to relax and really listen to people, be moved by the rhythms of different cities and landscapes, backgrounds and life stories--the less I notice what makes us different. And the more I become aware of what makes us the same.


Alta, W. 10th St.

Surrounded by the colorful culture of New York City these past few days and weaving together the several encounters I had with different people, I'm inspired by the ever present truth of...we are all the same. Despite how many bright yellow taxis pepper our streets or what passions we pursue, how we dress, where we work, what we eat--we all want the same thing. To seek adventure, find comfort, connect with others. To relate, to feel good, to be recognized for our efforts. To be good at something. To love and be loved. To feel happy.


St. Thomas Church Fifth Avenue, Midtown Manhattan

It felt really good this week to explore the city, meet new people and reconnect with old friends. While the past 48 hours were efficiently filled with a lot of work (a couple meetings and some very last tie-up work for the book), my friend Meg saw to it we had some fun as well.


Other Desert Cities at Lincoln Center Theater; a captivating well-written show


Times Square



Holy Cow, was it a fast trip.


Sweet Mother of Buttercream Frosting


It rained 2 out of 2 1/2 days there.

But completely inspiring and invigorating. Even in the rain.


That medley of wet reflections and steam that seeps out from manhole covers and sort of dances along the dark, slick streets? It's poetic. Lovely.


Street Corner Hot Pretzels and Roasted Chestnuts

And yes, I missed them.




I did so well at being present and really enjoying the opportunity to be alone, sleep (for the first time in three years!), move from one location to another without taking a head check, buckling seat belts or making sure to grab a to-go snack; but I missed them, truly. You get to a certain point in motherhood where, no matter how much fun you're having, you just subconsciously breathe your children. You can smell them even when you're not purposely thinking about them. You can feel their arms around your neck, their breath on your shoulder. You hear them whisper good night even when, by the time you climb in bed, they've long been asleep several hundred miles away. Brett's mom said yesterday Nella walked all day. Just took off for good and didn't look back. Because she's two now and Sister knows it.



I almost cried when we got home and realized Grandma was right. Walking is now Nella's transportation mode of choice, and she's good at it. Quick, smooth and agile.



Just another thing that makes us very much the same.

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Friday Photo Dump:


Friday Phone Dump photos are taken on the Instagram iPhone app (free) and dropped into a 12x12 collage using a photo editing software (Photoshop Elements works). I am @etst (enjoying the small things) on Instagram if you want to follow the feed.


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Introducing new sponsor, Crystal & Co. Crystal is a Texas mom of five boys with a mommy resource site where she shares easy recipes (most can be made in a crock pot), crafty tutorials, meal planning ideas and solutions for every mom. Crystal & Co. features D.I.Y. crafts including a great current Valentine's Day crayon making craft with a free printable.



Check her out.

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One Week and $10,000 to go. Look how far we've come! 2 for 2 just needs a little more pushin'.

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Have the breast weekend evah.

Weekend: She ate cake.

Want the satisfaction of feeling all adventurous-go-get-'em without really having to go get 'em? Make a bucket list of very doable things and then do them. Cross them off your list with a big fat red marker just for the heck of it.

Like...
Eat day-old birthday cake using my hands for a plate. Check.
Brush my teeth with Dora bubble gum toothpaste. Check.
Do a crappy job painting my toenails and don't bother to clean up the smudges. Check, check.

Ooooh, look at me, I'm knockin' off my bucket list.

'Tis true, there are cake crumbs, a bubble gum after taste and a pedicure that looks like I painted my toes with a blindfold. I ran out of polish remover. Thankfully, I'm headed to a closed toe shoe region later this week.

*****

Our weekend was quiet and homey, just the way it's supposed to be.



Brett and I cleaned the house together yesterday, making trades like "I'll do the kitchen if you do the bathroom." It all came together swimmingly for a perfect evening of family and celebrating two very special years.





I didn't even notice when 4:24 p.m. slipped by. We were busy, happy, making cake.



I started shoving candles into her cake and convinced myself that more candles represented more love. So I used the whole box and lit that muthah on fire.





Brett practiced blowing out candles with her all day yesterday so that by the time her moment was up, Sister took a bow.



Three out of four sets of grandparents (ah, the one bonus of divorce) allowed for a more harmonious chorus of "Happy Birthday," and oh, did it feel wonderful to have a house full.

Right before bed, Heidi said "I love you" to Nella, and you know what my girl said back? "Love you." We reacted appropriately. Like maybe we fell off the couch.



I am feeling content today. Exactly where I'm supposed to be--over my funk, productive, reflective, slow and steady.



For all the times I write about an imbalance--feeling too busy, uninspired, a creative bang, a high, a low, a when's-it-going-to-iron-out--it's assuring to know, there is a rhythm to all of it. Right now, in this tiny moment of time, work and family feel so appropriately melded. I feel both inspired and at peace; motivated and content; excited and calm; and even if that balance shifts tomorrow, its presence right now is enough to remind me, it works out. Ebb and Flow, Shift and Settle.




For the first time since before kids, I'm traveling alone this week. Two nights without babies. While I am expecting a smidge of chest-constricting angst as I board a plane solo, I am surprisingly at peace, knowing this is good for all of us, and my babies will be well taken care of.



Bucket List #148: Take a trip to the big city...alone.
Check.


Lainey's Chinese Dragon tee, Happy Family

*****

Our new sponsor has a very generous offer for us this week. I am delighted to introduce Happy Family, a shop you'll find very useful if stylin' it up with more color and character is on your bucket list.

I posted this picture on Instagram (@etst) this week and received several requests for the t-shirt source:



Word: Happy Family. Stocked with hand screen printed tees, messenger bags, potholders and totes, Happy Family has fun, conversation-sparking goods for men, women, children and babies.

Nella's birthday tee:



..and my funky camera tee:



Happy Family is donating 20% of all their proceeds this week to Nella's 2 for 2 Fund--an even better reason to shop! Please mention Nella's 2 for 2 Fund in the seller notes.

Happy Shopping!

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We are almost only $10,000 away from our goal of $200,000 raised for the NDSS for Nella's second birthday. 2 for 2 will continue until Nella's Tea for Two party next month. It's not too late to share, to give, to continue the efforts of many...to make a difference. Thank you so much for everything you've done to support our community.

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Wednesday's post might look a little something like this, sans sweet baby along for the ride.

a birthday post

It is easy to say "two years ago." Two years isn't a very long time, and the memories of her welcome, for the most part, are still clear. I remember what it feels like to cry so desperately that relief breaths can only come in short, stomach-jerking gasps. And, days later, how I listened to this song and this song, clutching to every word, praying it would be true--that we would be okay.

In the first two years, we talk about then and now, the difference between these two abstract eras distinct and concrete. But as the bridge between these two places slowly grows, the distinction likewise fades. A moment that changed me forever, yes; but the outcome a product of what was there all along. I had the love. I had the strength and courage. I was so capable of being her mama. I just didn't know it.



I think about that a lot--how I am the same person today as I was the day before she was born even though it doesn't seem true. How I am the same person I am today as I will be thirty years from now. What stones will be unturned in life--whether victories or challenges--to reveal more love, more courage, more understanding? We evolve.

As Cher would say, if I could turn back time...

I would take that little body and hold it closer, breathe her in, study her long fingers and smooth pink cheeks and let my soul do what it begged to do--to connect with its counterpart and fully accept her as the gift we needed. I would wrap my body around her, smell her, kiss her, draw her right into the place she needed to be and let her feel a purer love. I would trace her features with wonder rather than apprehension and know that her tired little frown would evolve...just like we would.



And while this day represents so much more, really it's about a little girl who was born. A daughter who came to be, a sister who arrived, a baby like any other who just needed to be loved.



Oh, how she is loved.





This morning she woke up early--early enough I had to check the clock to make sure it wasn't still the middle of the night. I heard the rattle of the crib railing and her happy whispers, and I finally reluctantly climbed out to welcome the day with her. I feel her low muscle tone most when I pull her from the crib. There is no resistance, no independent efforts to stand tall and pull her weight, and I love that. Every ounce of her sinks into my grasp as I lift her and pull her close, her bottom settling into my forearm, her hands touching my face, her chest fully dropping into my shoulder. I remember pregnancy yoga classes and how long it took the instructor to guide us into this kind of limber physical release. "Let go of your shoulders. Imagine your chest is dropping. Now release your leg muscles, your thighs, your calves...let go of it all. Submit to the peace in your inner soul," she'd exhort and even after all those steps, there was still a part I couldn't let go. After that experience I realize low muscle tone is hardly a disability. It's an enviable ability...to just be.



We walked out into the dark living room, her head still resting on my shoulder. "Is it your birthday?" I whispered. She pulled her head up and smiled. "Yeah," she answered. I thought about exactly where I was two years ago. Counting contractions. Waiting for the doctor to call. Knowing I'd finally get to meet my daughter.



It feels good to skip over the rest--to look back at the dark and difficult moments and stop right when it hurts to run and hold her. Like getting through the awful suspenseful parts in a movie you've already seen--not so bad when you know it ends well.

It's two years later--not long, but long enough to know...it ends well.



No matter what happens, it ends well because life is bigger than scripts and sets and how-it's-supposed-to-bes.

And before I quote another singer--God forbid, Richard Marx--let me cut to the chase.

Dude, these two years have been grand. And we love her. We love our children with a deeper, purer love that is so infinite, it cannot be shaken.




Happy Birthday, Nella.




You are everything we ever wanted. I only wish we would have been cool enough to know it then.



We know now. We love you so much, Birthday Girl. And we celebrate you today.




And thank you, little girl, for my birth day--what gift that day, those moments, those tears will always be.

"Awareness born of love is the only force that can bring healing and renewal. Out of our love for another person, we become more willing to let our old identities wither and fall away, and enter a dark night of the soul, so that we may stand naked once more in the presence of the great mystery that lies at the core of our being. This is how love ripens us -by warming us from within, inspiring us to break out of our shell, and lighting our way through the dark passage to new birth." -John Welwood