Gratitude*Sunday

Each Sunday I stop and count my blessings.

Taking time to honor the things I've been grateful for throughout the week. A quiet, weekly practice of appreciation and positivity. A time to breath and reflect. A small step towards a more simplistic and appreciative outlook. Feel free to join in. <3

This Week I am Grateful For:

* Catching up with our friends who we haven't seen in a little bit, and a trip to the zoo with the three amigos. Who all let us know when it was time to go. ;)
* Friends who come over and spend their entire Saturday helping us out in return for food and conversation. This time it was fixing Joe's truck.
* My good friend Jenn taking me to my favorite local brewery to do a glass etching class as a late birthday gift.
* Spending time with creative friends at Cynthia of Spirit Uncaged's house. I so need and refill at these creative women's circles she started. It's a beautiful energy and time to experiment and work on projects. It's been the best medicine for me.

Image by Tina Huba HalseyMae.com Facebook

* Time with my best friend, Michael. We suck at best friending lately, but we're working on it.
* Repurposing old artwork from high school and my time in BIG with Dirty Footprints Studio in to a gigantic art journal by tearing it up and sewing it together. Hat tip to Hali Karla for the inspiration to take the plunge and breath new life in to old work.
* Spending most of our waking time outside this week. It's been too beautiful to be indoors!
* Meeting another Stay at Home mom and Harry Potter fan at the park and skipping small talk and talking about our sons, husbands, hobbies, and lives. I hope to see her again! Awkward penguin here didn't ask for her number or anything. Whoops.

A Resurrection

Anyone for take-backsies?

I can't help it, try as I might, I just couldn't get comfortable in my new blog space. I think, most likely, it has to do with it my handing out business cards with the link on it to complete (local) strangers.

Odd as this is, coming from someone who writes honestly and openly about so much of their life to strangers (now friends!) on the internet, it made me feel super weird giving people whom I don't personally know, who might recognize me at the grocery store but never say anything, (or worse - start an argument or something) such an intimate look in to my life.

I'm a ball of contradiction, right? I'm definitely no Amanda Palmer.

So, anyways. I've missed blogging and this space, even though I felt stifled by it a few months back. I'm hoping to pick up with my random mishmash of brain dumping, art splattering, spirit thumping, honest life writing. And hope some of you are still around to converse with me. ;)

Things have been good here. O gets bigger and brighter and more mischievous by the day! Seriously, that boy has the most noticeable twinkle when he's about to get up to no-good. He's running, jumping, climbing, saying words and having almighty tantrums when I stop his shenanigans or don't understand what he's saying.

He keeps me on my toes. And much as I beg, Time refuses to slow down. He changes so much every day.

We parents have found ourselves with small pockets of this elusive creature called "free time" again. And mostly we spend it laying together on the couch watching TV, though we both are still working on projects here and there.

My current one (of like, 25 that I flit between, because squirrel brain) is a deck of oracle cards made with cardstock and found images. I've been jonesing for a new deck and was attempting to make a vision board the other day when the idea popped in to my head. Nothing like using your own intuition to create an intuitive tool, right? And cutting out images is a nice vacation from painting, which is sometimes so wrapped up in emotions that it's taxing.

I've started getting seed catalogs in the mail, and I've been wistfully sighing and dreaming about Spring. We're hoping to build a brand new garden this year, so *fingers crossed*

How have you all been, friends? How's the new year treating you?

P.S. I'll be bringing over the very few posts I wrote over on Wordpress at some point. So, sorry in advance if you see a bunch of things pop up from me. xox

Lessons in Paint

The other day, I woke up realizing something inside has changed. A shifting had occurred, slowly, nearly imperceptibly. I would have missed it entirely if it hadn't been for my purposeful invitation of presence and mindfulness in to my life.

I feel better.

Out of the woods may not be accurate yet, but seeing the light at the forest edges definitely is.

And as I'm beginning to come out of the heavy, dark fog, my Muse has been beckoning gently. I set out on my birthday earlier in the month to purchase a fresh giant canvas from the art store, but instead returned home with a new art journal.

Working in it has pushed me further than these small periods of painting usually do. I've been frustrated, ready to unleash Hell upon the unfinished page with black paint or use the magical delete medium that is Gesso. But instead, when I hit that wall, that place of being pissed off, frustrated and lost, I put it aside for the night. I give myself a time out, space to breath, and permission NOT to finish my daily pages in one day.

And as I apply this approach, these lessons in patience, grace, and space to my art practice, so to do I apply it to other aspects of my life.

Take time out. Let go and let things happen. Breathe. Repeat.

Time, Changes and Keeping On

This whole time things moves strangely for me these days, both ludicrously fast and ever so slowly. I'm not entirely sure if this is from having a young child or because I'm learning to be more present and have all but unplugged from technology (who has time for that stuff with a 6 month old?), but it's fucking weird. :)

There's been an entire month since the last time I sat down and wrote, but it feels like I wrote last week. It's been 6.5 months since I first met my son, but I feel like I've known him a whole lot longer than that. And also, like I held him for the very first time, when he was 13 lbs lighter than he is now. Time, you're a tricky wench.

Moons wax and grow to swollen, then wane and go dark and I've not done a stellar job of observing them for a while. I haven't seen a full moon since the super moon on the weekend I went in to labor, not because I haven't gone outside (I get super antsy around full moon, so can't really miss her) but because there have been clouds every single time. Last night I went out, but again, clouds. It's the strangest thing and maddening in a way, but like so many things lately, I just have to let go and let things do what they will.

Even if that's incredibly hard sometimes.

My practices have softened and shifted, I take a few moments each day at the altar, to pull a card, to look deeply in to the depths of a black cup of tea, to throw my eyes skyward and watch the family of crows that moved in wheel over head. I notice more, even as I practice and do the Work, less. Vulture stood tall on a pole, spreading his mighty wings today just as I went by. A few weeks back, a huge red shouldered hawk swooped from the tree in my front yard, flapped his wings twice in the few foot distance between myself and my front door before flying over my neighbors roof and away. The small birds of Winter scratch in the hedge outside of my bedroom window, chattering to each other while I lay with Acorn while he naps.

It's always birds with me.

Soon the altar will need to be put up or moved, out of reach of little hands that will be grasping and pulling up before I even realize it. And I will observe my spirituality in other ways, in smaller altars and magic spaces tucked around the house or find it in the simplicity of my breath, as I use it to come back fully in to my body and out of my mind; if only for a few seconds. There's magic in the medicine bag between my breasts, in the stones friends I tuck in to pockets or turn in to jewelry, in the curvature and stretch of the body I've so rarely appreciated as it flows through a yoga class. And one day, the altar will be put back out, when little fingers know not to eat mom's stone helpers or man handle the bones which she keeps.

This past month has been one of growing and healing, of triumphantly going out on a limb and feeling like flying, and it's also been one of falling back to Earth on molten wings, of skinned knees and feelings of failure, shame and old hurts. But I dust myself off and keep going, because gods dammit, I am worth it and I deserve it. This month will be better, and next month better still.

Onwards and upwards, right? :)

Moonday Musings - An Ending

Of all the things that I don't have as much time for these days, writing is one of the ones that I miss most. To remedy this, I've started writing in a *gasp* paper journal again. When I get quiet moments, while Acorn happily plays with his toys, when he's laying beside me snoozing in the afternoon or in the dimly lit comfort of my bed at night when I decide it's more important to get some thoughts down on paper than it is to get those few extra minutes of sleep.

But oh, even with my pen and composition book to feed the journaling bug within me, I miss my blog. I find that when Isit at the keyboard to write, rather pick up the pen, my mind wanders less and I get my thoughts out faster, more succinctly than I can by hand. I'm going to try to get back to this space, to the keyboard (I won't write from a tablet or phone I HATE it).

And so, to keep the cobwebs out of my wee space and satisfy my blogging urge, I'll be here Mondays for Moonday Musings where I'll muse on something or another each week, Wednesday for Wordless Wednesday where I'll share a photo that stands out to me, a special moment captured that requires no words and Sundays for Gratitude Sundays. And of course, I'll pop in to write on any other day that the bug bites while I am in front of my computer. ;)


Last Thursday, Acorn turned 13 weeks old. On Friday, my newborn officially became an infant, having been Earthside for 3 months. It was also my final day in what is considered the "4th Trimester", meaning my body is more or less back to normal and healed and if I were in a culture that observed a lying in period for new mothers, it would be ending.

Neither of us is considered "new" anymore. And the ending of this stage of newness saddens me. Our transition from one person to two is complete as is my magical period of metamorphosis from Maiden to Mother.

I want so badly to bottle up these moments, all of our tiny milestones, all of the tears and laughter, complete with bleary eyed mornings, first time mom fumbles and the sweet smell of his tiny head and the touch of his downy hair... bottle them all up and preserve them forever. To open and wonder over, to tearfully, joyfully pull off the shelf and reminisce over when he's grown.

These were our firsts. Tiny drops in the ocean of life, but magnificent ripples for us. I will never again be a first time mom, he will never again be this small and new to the world.

These past 3 months have been like a hazy, beautiful dream and have gone by far, far faster than I ever imagined time could move. We've both changed so much in these few weeks; he is now grasping, grabbing, babbling, smiling, moves his arms and legs more gracefully and giggled his first real giggle last night. I've found my sea legs, if you will, and have become more confident, more patient.

My heart has grown larger, my emotions softer. My love has grown fierce and fiery; Mother Bear has awakened within me. My body is no longer the enemy of my mind; birth and breastfeeding have healed the rift between them and I'm learning to love my physical self - thick thighs, striped soft belly and all. I am awestruck and humbled by what this vessel is capable of.

Acorn is teaching me to slow down and to let go. He is teaching me hard lessons in remaining calm, in patience and in priorities. His life has made me take a hard honest look at my own and to hold to light that which is lacking and to hold dear that which is truly important, not what I've been programmed to view as such.

This Motherhood journey has called me to let go of resentment, pessimism, self abuse and anger (I was fueled by so much rage) and to instead allow myself to invite in grace and peace and to be led by Love.

And it is hard.

But,

This little soul, my shining star and mighty hunter, is transforming me in the very best of ways and guiding me on my transition from maiden to mother with the gentle wisdom of the very oldest souls. And while I mourn that our magical transition period is ending, I am excited for our today's and our future.

Confessions and Change

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.
~Vivian Greene

I need to confess to some things. To being a worrywort and a negative nancy.

I need to confess that I am often overwhelmed these days, often wonder how any one ever gets anything done or has time for everything.

I confess to knowing that most of this overwhelm is of my own making.

I confess to knowing I should channel my Spirit Animal (Bill Murray) and just relax and go with the flow, but oh boy, is that hard when it's not just all about you. When there's a little, a husband, a menagerie of critters and a house that you care deeply about.

My days fly by. I feel like I wake up and blink and it's after noon. I haven't showered or remembered to feed myself. I blink again and it's 6pm; time for dinner and maybe a walk around the block. I blink once more and it's bed time. My day flies by in a haze of diaper changes, hurriedly stuffing whatever is handy in to my stomach, playing with my baby, trying to wrangle Luna outside to go to the bathroom, spit up, trying to make nap times happen and sleep. When nap time DOES happen, I spend it cleaning, eating or showering off the perfume of spit up and breast milk. I stress and I worry and I feel so strung out.

And I know it's my own doing. But the worrying has me trapped. As do my exceedingly high standards that I impose upon myself and the old school woman as martyr complex that's been so deeply ingrained in me that I didn't even realize it was there until I was married and didn't realize how BAD it was until I was a mom. If, at the end of the day I haven't spent 90% of his waking time talking or playing with Acorn, taken Luna out every single time she rings the bell on the door (50% of which are NOT because she actually needs to potty), made dinner and did all the cleaning on the to do list in my head and had meaningful time with Joe... I feel like a total fucking failure. Like I'm letting everyone down. Like I'm not cut out for this.

But, I'm trying to change this thought pattern. I'm trying to believe my husband when he says I put too much on my plate and that my value doesn't rest in those things. That at the end of every day, even one with take out, leaves on the carpet and vomit stains all over my shirt - every one still loves me. And that I need to take time for myself. WITHOUT guilt.

Which is harder for me than all the rest, because taking time out to paint, nap, whatever takes time away from those other things. Writing this right now, Acorn is sitting in his swing and I'm having extreme guilt that I haven't interacted with him in 10 minutes. Like I'm a selfish asshole who needs to get off the computer and talk to my child and interact with him so he develops properly.

And that, I think, is my biggest worry of all. Will he develop properly? If I spend too much time wearing him, hugging him, sitting outside with him, letting him happily swing or lay on his back on his play mat how the hell is he ever going to learn how to roll over, sit up, crawl or anything? How much is too much? How much tummy time does he need? If we lay in the hammock and he's tummy down, does that count? I've thought about the projects I can drag in to the living room to work on while he plays, scrapbooking, crochet, embroidery, my sketchbook... but I feel like that makes me an inattentive shit, even if I still talk to him and tend to him as he needs me too. Even if it's just half an hour.

And am I fucking him up by not having a set in stone schedule>? Because I don't. I go out when I want or need to, to go to the store or the library or the park, or to watch an evening concert. I don't live around naptimes because he doesn't have set ones. If we're home and he gets yawny, I put him down to nap. If we're out and he gets tired, we snuggle him up or wear him and he sleeps on us. But so many moms talk about living around naps, that it has my worrywort self, well, worried. We stay out until 9pm or later on occasion, but we're trying to have bedtime be between 8 and 9. Are we shitty parents?

It's time I knock this shit off and stop beating myself half to death at the end of each day. I decided not to read baby books or sites because they'd stress me out, so instead I'm stressing myself out. I don't need to spend my days sitting on the living room floor while he plays and I don't need to sweat it if we're outside swinging in the hammock or out late listening to music and we miss tummy time. And I certainly don't need to kill myself over having a spotless house, beautiful gardens, scratch made dinner and a perfectly outdated idea of what a stay at home mom or housewife is supposed to do. Some days there will be leaves on the floor, baskets of unfolded laundry and pizza for dinner. I need to learn to be ok with that.

I need to quit being so negative and hard on myself. To let go of guilt and worry and this fucking martyr complex that tells me that crocheting while my son plays by himself makes me a shit mom. I need to let go, channel Bill Murray and relax.

I know all of these things, deep down inside of me, but it's so hard for me to embrace them. But, I want to. And I have to.

It's going to take work, but dammit. I'm ready.

5.5 Weeks

Every time I've sat down to write over the past few weeks, my mind has suddenly gone blank. I'll have all these thoughts on what to share and how to express the things I've felt these past weeks while I'm nursing Acorn in the middle of the night, shoveling food in my face or having a long hot shower. But I've so missed writing that I'm going to sit here and try to get the thoughts out, even if they come out jumbled. I'm running on pure exhaustion currently. For those who don't dig mommy blog entries, that's fine. Skip this one. :) I won't always be writing about mom stuff from here on out, but let's be honest, this is all new for me and with a newborn it's not like there's much else going on with me right now. ;)

It's been harder, yet better than I imagined. Being someone who has lived my entire life with depression, I was so worried I would have issues with it right after the baby was born. I was scared that I wouldn't feel a bond with the baby easily, because I wasn't one of those pregnant women who cooed at, read to or generally was enamored with my swollen belly. I didn't feel any crazy strong bond with my unborn child. To be honest, until I held Acorn in my arms for the very first time, the whole thing felt sort of surreal to me. Luckily, all of those fears of mine were completely unfounded. I have loved this little boy with ferocity and a sort of love I didn't even know I was capable of since he was first placed, goopy and screaming, on my chest. When they did his tests in the hospital and he was crying, it was all I could do not to strangle the nurse doing the dastardly deed of pricking his heal. It strikes me that I may be the momma grizzly bear type. Woe be unto those who give him shots and make him cry!

The first night home from the hospital was by far the worst. My self esteem was somewhere deep, deep , in the shitter as I tried desperately to get Acorn to latch on my breast properly. Every time we'd try, I'd have sharp excruciating pain and my nipple would come out misshapen. I'd elected to stay in the hospital for an extra day so I could meet with the lactation consultant to help us out, because this natural process wasn't coming so naturally to us, so I was beating the shit out of myself for having such an issue with it now that we were home. I shot an SOS off to my really, truly, fabulously amazing doula and she said she'd not only be by the next day to try to help me but was going to give my info to a lactation consultant who is going for her IBCLC certification and needed volunteer hours so she could make a housecall and help me out. By the time the two of them got to me, I was scabby and just the thought of nursing my child made me cry. When he started rooting, I'd feal myself grow anxious and when he latched on I'd yell out and spend our 40 minute nursing session crying, because it hurt. Worse than the entire 80+ hours of unmedicated birth. No lie.

They both watched our technique and both complimented me on how well we were doing in that department. The consultant said that if I hadn't told her I've never seen anyone breastfeed and have never done it before, she wouldn't have had a clue. So it wasn't error on either of our parts in that department, so we checked his mouth. I was kind of surprised they didn't do this in the hospital, since I was having so many issue and am tongue and lip tied - something that can interfere with breastfeeding and other awesome things like speech. (Ask me how much fun it was to overcome speech impediments sometime) Turns out my baby inherited my severe tongue and lip tie, which were keeping him from being able to flare his lips or move his tongue properly. Since he couldn't make the proper wave motion with his tongue to get the milk, he was chomping on me with his gums. No wonder I hurt! Joe and I did some research in to practitioners in our area that correct the issue. Mine was never revised, my mom didn't even know I had it until I told her about Acorn's, and so I'm well aware of some of the issues that can arise from it later in life. We opted to make an appointment for revision, not just so we could continue nursing with reduced pain for me, but to hopefully prevent the issues I have had in him.

The doctor couldn't get us in for a week, so I had to keep on keeping on. I ended up with not one, but TWO plugged ducts! But kept reminding myself why I chose to breastfeed and also reminded myself that soon we'd have surgery and things should improve. When Acorn was a mere 10 days old, we drove an hour and a half to Charlotte to let the dentist shoot lasers in to his mouth. We weren't allowed in the room, but were allowed to stand outside the door and watch. Joe stayed, I hid in the bathroom and cried for the 2 minutes it took for them to do it. I nursed him immediately afterwards and it didn't hurt! Unfortunately, I developed a fever and was diagnosed with mastitis that afternoon. This snotty little medical student at my doctor's office (who had been at my birth - there's more story there that I'll tell with the birth story at some point) invited herself in while I waited for the nurse practitioner to see me and proceeded to tell me about abscesses that can form from mastitis and strongly hinted that I should switch to formula. I told her that I didn't think 10 days was giving breastfeeding a fair shot in a way that left no more room for discussion. I don't judge any one for their feeding choices, but dammit, this is mine. Let me give it a fair shot.

Things have gotten better in that department. I'm still sore, but now it's because he pulls off without breaking suction. We're working on that, because OUCH!

Joe wasn't able to take his full leave that we had planned on, which was a massive bummer for both of us. The week and a half he was home was wonderful though. For the first week, he tried very hard not to let me get out of bed and wouldn't let me clean or do anything except nurse Acorn, sleep, eat, shower, or take Luna out in the yard. That was the compromise to keep me from going completely stir crazy - I've never been much of a sitter or layer, so that took a good bit of adjustment for me. He made me fresh ground Jamaican coffee and breakfast every morning, ran the errands that needed to happen, called the doctors and made appointments, fed the zoo and spent as much time cuddled up with us as he could. After I made a print of my placenta (oh yea, I brought it home and made art with it), my ridiculously amazing husband boiled, dehydrated, ground and encapsulated it for me. At one point, I was having a baby blues crying jag and he looked up at me while filling up capsules and said "You know I love you right? Because I wouldn't be playing in placenta dust for just anyone." Ha ha. Really, I loved every minute of our family time and wouldn't have made it through those first 10 days with my sanity in tact without him.

When he first went back to work, I was really overwhelmed by how very much time I suddenly didn't have and how very hard it was to perform every day tasks with a newborn who nursed every 2 hours for 40 minutes, hated being in his swing, decided napping was something other kids did and was only happy being held. Being as how I've never held a newborn before I was handed my own, I wasn't very comfortable holding him in one hand while I did anything. Truth be told, I wasn't super comfortable holding him - period. He was so little and floppy! As the weeks have passed though, I've gotten my sea legs under me a bit better and am significantly less overwhelmed. We still have some bad days with no naps, lots of fussiness and nursing around the clock (damn you, growth spurts!) but most of them don't bother me as much since I've realized and accepted that things just aren't going to get done the way they used to for a while and that's OK because Acorn will only be this little and need me this much for a little while. And, he'll never be this little or need me this much ever again. Right now, I'm his everything; his source of food, drink, comfort, protection and love. I'm all he knew for 9 months and he's still transitioning to life in this great big world outside of me.

And that's what's important right now. That's what's keeping me going through pain, sleep deprivation, nap free days, screaming fits and all the other bad shit no one really likes to talk about. The knowledge that his tiny little head is only going to seek the comfort of my shoulder for so long, that he will only fit on my chest for a little while longer (he's already over 10 lbs - he's gained 3+ lbs since birth), that he will only nurse for a small portion of his long life and that before I know it, he'll be an independent, somewhat self sufficient little person and we can never, ever come back to these moments... and I'm soaking them all up. Even the ones like last night, when he finished nursing at 4am and decided he wanted to be awake, to gently kick and punch the air and coo at me and the ceiling fan for an hour. I was cranky this morning, because I'm always cranky when I haven't slept well, but at 4am, I was smiling at my mighty hunter as his little legs hit my hip and his little fingers grabbed mine.

It's all about perspective. And while I still stumble and fall and have bad days or moments, he is slowly, but surely changing mine just as surely as he's changed my life.

The Mighty Hunter

Today is my due date, but our son decided he was ready to join the world last week.

Acorn was born July 17, 2014 at 2:41 pm, after 88 hours of labor - 26 of which were active, almost all of which was in my back. He was delivered naturally without medication, with the cord around his neck twice and was caught by daddy, to thunderous applause from a room full of medical students who had never seen a natural birth while Day-O played on Pandora. Future Beetlejuice fan? ;-)

He weighed 7.9 lbs, 19.75 inches and is ready to rock this life thing. Thank you to our rock star doulas for being by our sides the whole time and helping us know everything was and would be ok. It's amazing how cracking jokes and talking about songs stuck in your head can make something intense seem less so.

This first week (tomorrow) has been one of the hardest yet most rewarding of my life.

Welcome Earthside, baby boy!

Needless to say, posting will be a bit light for a bit. :)

Evening Ritual

Lately, despite the smothering heat and the lack of moisture that is killing everything in my yard and making my trees drop leaves like it's Autumn, I've been taking even more comfort and solace in the simple act of being outside than usual. Perhaps it's the discomfort I'm in most days as this baby gets bigger and bigger inside of me, maybe it's just a hatred of being cooped up in the Summer hiding from the heat that swells my feet and makes my body stream sweat, could be that it gives Luna mental stimulation while she is still on physical restrictions. Most likely though, it's simply that I've always been a dirt worshiper who feels better when I get outside, stick my bare feet on the ground and breath deeply.

On the rare mornings when it is still below 85* at 8am when Luna and I wake up and head out for her morning business, I grab a big cup of iced coffee and a book or my Moleskine and we sit side by side in chairs for as long as we have before the heat drives us both inside, panting. On breezy afternoons, I grab a quilt and a big cup of ice water and we head out to sit wherever there happens to be a lot of shade and a lack of fire ant hills.

But what's become a nearly nightly ritual, which I look forward to and don't even mind having to swat the blood sucking mosquitoes away to enjoy, is sitting outside at dusk watching the fireflies come out. Some nights I only manage to sit outside for 20 minutes, because I got out late or am not feeling very well and others I stay out there for hours. Usually Joe and Luna sit outside with me, he brings out a fan to blow the blood suckers away so I don't get eaten or have to bathe in bug spray, and we either chat or just sit quietly and let the sounds of Summer nights mingle with the dancing insects around us.

While I'm out there, my mind and body feel like they've shut down as I enjoy this magical display of tiny fireworks over grass and in the trees. For that period of time there are no bills, no concerns about the big changes coming, no discomfort, no stress, no worries. I'm completely relaxed, even more so than after a warm shower or bath, and everything that was previously filling my head, any tension at all, just slides away. When the lights have faded away, the lightning bugs thinning away until barely any are left and I go inside, I'm not bothered by the things I didn't get to on my To-Do list, I'm not aggravated by my lack of energy during the day, I don't beat myself up for the unwashed dishes, the unfolded laundry, the half-finished projects on my desks. I don't view that time outside as wasted or pointless, like I do with so many other forms of distraction (like when I've spent a lot of time watching TV or online).

Instead I view it as a nourishing and important ritual, something that I seem to need right now. Those magical little bugs, the frog princes and crickets singing their song as the sky darkens over head create moments for me to renew and replenish myself, moments to be treasured and to fall back on when I need them.

Nature is by far the most powerful of healers and no time spent with it can or should ever be viewed as wasted.

The Mothering Moon

About a month ago, I decided I wanted to have some sort of ceremony with my soul sisters and friends far and wide and from all paths and walks of life to commemorate and celebrate my passage in to motherhood. Throughout this entire pregnancy I've been craving sisterhood and feminine bonding; real, deep feminine bonding not the shallow sort where people just pat you on the back, say you'll be a great mommy, and focus on the baby. In an act some would call selfish, I decided to celebrate myself and invite others to celebrate me as well.

All I asked of these sisters was to simply send me a bead. If they wanted to send a note or something else, that was fine, but the bead was the token requested. I collected all of the beads together and put them on my altar to wait for June's Full Moon when I would string them all together on to a necklace under Momma Moon's watchful gaze and create a string of prayer beads to hold or wear when I give birth or need to feel especially loved or empowered. I invited the other women to sit under the moon with me, wherever they happened to be and to send up some energy, a prayer, a wish in whatever fashion they chose to celebrate the bonds of sisterhood, myself and this transition of mine.

When the Full Moon came, it fell on Friday the 13th, typically a lucky day for me. When I picked the June Full Moon, it was because it gave my necklace a full cycle to sit in the moon's light before baby's estimated arrival. I didn't even notice the date. A little bit of universal serendipity.

That evening, I was feeling exhausted and worn out both emotionally and physically. I had planned this day of exquisite self care, where in I'd soak in the tub, sip raspberry iced tea, paint my nails, lay outside on the blanket in the grass with Luna and paint or read. None of that went to plan. I ventured out to the store in the morning for a few things, came home and felt queasy and tired. I spent almost the entire day on the couch with Luna. No painting, no reading, no afternoon nap in the shade. I was incredibly bummed out. I did however manage to take a nice long warm shower, not the bath I had planned on but the warm water and lavender soap melted away a lot of tension and unhappiness and relaxed me just the same.

When night fell and the time came for me to sit before my altar, the moon was hidden behind storm clouds and it was raining. But I could still feel her there. I called on my Gods and spirits and momma moon to join me and held my usual Full Moon ritual, as well as blessing the amber necklaces I got for both baby and I along with the beads. I pulled my guiding card for the cycle, The Green Woman, and then moved to my bed to lay out and string the beads.

This is something I actually did twice, as I decided to add stops every so often to keep the more delicate beads from being crushed or cracked by heavier ones. My own contributions to the necklace are the sculpted Gaia, the evil eye bead and 3 blue goldstones - the same stones I used to create my wedding jewelry 5 years ago. As I strung the beads, I thought of each woman who sent them to me, about our relationship, about the prayers, wishes or secrets they sent along with their beads and sent some love out to each of them individually. There was a warm vibration in each of the beads, which was magnified tenfold when they were all gathered together on the beading cord. I'm awaiting some late arrivals, so the ends aren't finished off yet but I did drape it around my neck to feel the weight of it and aside from being long and hefty (it hangs nearly to my naval), there is something so empowering, so primal and so divine in the donning of it.

This token of sisterhood without borders, this tangible celebration of me, will serve not only as a powerful talisman during my birthing time but also as a treasure to remind me for the rest of my life of the power inherent in female bonds that aren't tainted by social, religious, physical or other stigma or competition.

P.S. If you weren't invited please don't be offended, it wasn't from a lack of love, but from a lack of knowing how to contact you outside of blog comments. If you'd like to send me a bead, I won't be closing off the necklace for a few weeks still. Please email me at artful.danni at Gmail and we'll get things sorted out. :)

Escaping to the Mountains

Recently, we packed up ourselves and Luna and trekked in to Tennessee for a long weekend in the mountains. I got a great deal on a cabin that we could never have afforded at its regular price which boasted seclusion, woodland views and relaxation.

They weren't kidding! After we drove the 3 hours to the bed and breakfast to check in, we drove another 45 minutes up a steep, narrow mountain road which my tiny car was not a huge fan of and found the gravel road that led to the cabins. The outside looked like it could use a little work, but once we went inside it was beautiful! All wood and rustic and clean.

And as an added bonus, there was this sexy soaking tub.

Our first evening there, poor Joe was sick. Fever, sweats, chills, horrible cough. I kept feeding him tea and water while he and Luna snoozed away in the bed. We opted for a cabin without cable, so I found a station on the radio that I liked and took the opportunity to play some Solitaire, listen to my hypnobirthing tracks for the day and do some sketches.

The following day, he still wasn't feeling too hot, so we spent the majority of the day chilling out on the deck in a pair of rocking chairs. On the side of the cabin there was a dead cedar tree, and since my husband is the perpetual boy scout (really, he is.) he took his hand saw out and cut off some of the lower limbs and branches to whittle away at and bring home for bigger projects. Sometime in the late afternoon, I gave the sexy tub and its jets a thorough cleaning and after dinner we had ourselves a nice long (ridiculously long) soak. During which, peering Luna eyes were consistently seen over the edge.

This is why we can't have nice pictures. One of us is always a goof.

The next two days followed a similar pattern. We attempted to find the hiking path to the river and swimming hole that we were told about at check-in, but the only path we found was loaded with poison ivy which we're both highly allergic to. Also, as we were being swarmed by angry mosquitoes and it was a bit hot for this baby bump and I, we eventually gave up and went back to the cabin. We had better luck the next day when we hiked up to a little woodland cemetery. It's extremely well maintained for being as far up a mountain and tucked away as it is and there were a few neat grave stones, including this one that belongs to a confederate soldier.

This was what I suppose people would call our "babymoon" or last romantic getaway before baby comes. It was a well needed break from life, technology and everything else and it was wonderful to be able to truly relax. We didn't leave the mountain, didn't travel in to town. Just wiled away the hours sitting side by side working on small projects, soaking in the tub and just being together.

This was the view as we were taking a "parkway" through the mountains back home. Our little cabin is on one of those mountains, somewhere.

Perspective and Homesickness

After the wonderful weekend, we entered another tough week. Nothing like the previous ones, but certainly not fun. The culmination of it being Wednesday, when I was finally able to get Luna in to the vet for a limp she's had for nearly two weeks. We'd have taken her in sooner, but with the stomach bugs floating around, I'm sure the vet wouldn't have been thrilled to see us.

So, we had to wait it out. And it became more frequent Tuesday, when I was stuck at my own doctor's office for several hours doing a prenatal glucose test and again unable to take her in. Wednesday when we went in, I was expecting to hear she'd pulled a muscle or somehow fractured something though we haven't seen her injure herself. She never goes outside alone (we don't have a fence) and she hasn't taken a fall off the couch or bed while we've been home with her. Doesn't rule it out, but we didn't see it.

Within 2 minutes of touching her leg, the vet had me come over and place my finger where his was and feel a wiggly piece of something floating in her rear knee. Turns out, that wiggly piece of something is her knee cap which no longer stays in place on its own. They took x-rays to rule out any scar tissue, arthritis or anything else that may be wrong and it turns out she has a deformity of her leg bone which kept the groove that holds her knee cap in place from forming properly. Which means the knee doesn't sit in place properly and is left to pop out as it chooses. So, chances are excellent this has always been an issue for my extremely active and jumpy pup, but due to Jack Russell pain thresholds and stubbornness, she hasn't let on until now. And has only done so now because she can no longer get it to pop back in to place and stay there. She's clever and tough as nails, I'd have cried like I was dying the first time it popped out, not popped it back in lord knows how many times and kept jumping.

So, my poor 2 year old needs knee surgery to grind away the bone and deepen the groove. Our vet office doesn't perform this surgery, so our doctor is working to get us scheduled in to the hospital they refer to and gave me his best shot in the dark estimate for costs, but obviously can't quote accurately without talking to them first. He also prescribed no walks except to potty in the yard, no running and no jumping until they get us in for surgery. I may have to hog tie my poor pup to keep her still when the painkiller and anti-inflamtory she's on wears off:

And, as is always the case, this expense is dropping on us now that I don't have a job any more. Just like with Chico's giant vet bills last month and several other unforeseen expenses. Unfortunately for me, I've always made my own way financially and have always been driven to contribute to our expenses and savings. It's not that I give a rats ass about money or fine things, I just don't want to be a burden to someone else... even my husband. Even before I got pregnant, we'd talked about having a parent at home, something which is incredibly important to both of us. Given that, the fact that I've never been a career person and the fact that day care would suck up my entire paycheck, I decided that I'd leave work a little before baby was born to get things ready and get my own shit together before I took on the job of full time mom.

But the transition has been tough on me. I'm not even going to sugar coat this; I feel lazy, worthless and like a gigantic burden. This is only made worse when something like a surgery costing a couple thousand dollars drops on our laps. It has nothing to do with how Joe sees it, because he admonishes me for feeling this way - reassuring me that it's nice to have me home, not stressed about work and able to take care of myself in the last stretch of baby growing. And I believe him, but my own fucked up sense of self guilt and self worth gets in my way. And so yesterday, I spent a good deal of time crying and feeling like shit.

Until I got to thinking about where we used to be, back when we lived in New Jersey and realized what a sad sack I'm being. You see, if we hadn't taken a risk and made a drastic change when Joe's job moved here to South Carolina a little over 4 years ago we wouldn't be in the situation we're in right now. And I don't mean that in a bad way.

When his job left, we were living in a 500 foot apartment with rent that was $200 more than the mortgage on our 1700 foot house per month. We both were working full time just to scrape by. If we'd stayed there, he may have had to take a job that was closer to NY and make the horrific 2 hour congested commute each way every day in his Jeep. We'd see each other from 7:30pm - 11:30 pm each night, if he got home on time. And if one of us didn't end up with a 2nd job. Our relationship would have become somewhat passive and neither one of us would have time for fun or hobbies, we'd have been unhappy. But let's say we stuck it out, because that's what you do when you love someone. You take the shit with the good.

When his car broke down completely (the back axle was no longer attached when we determined it was dead), we'd have had to try to find another beater car because we couldn't have afforded a car payment. We would have limped my old vehicle with it's 10k worth of needed repairs along too. We wouldn't have been able to afford the safe and reliable car we now have. We wouldn't have been able to replace his broken Jeep with a scooter and a truck. We'd be bleeding out any extra money we managed to scrape together in to gas and car repairs. We'd probably have some towing bills from breaking down on the side of the road.

We'd still be in that shitty apartment with the police station near the foot of it that tripled in size due to all the crime that goes on in it.

We'd never have gotten Luna or any other dog, because pets weren't allowed. We had the cats because you can hide them and they're quiet. Luna would most likely have ended up in a shelter.

When Chico got sick last month, we couldn't have afforded the bill and we'd have made the difficult and painful decision to put him to sleep.

And there's no way in Hell I'd be pregnant. We'd probably never have had a baby, because stability was a tremendously important factor in that decision making process for us. Along with the kid having a bedroom. An expensive luxury where we lived.

Perspective. A huge shift in the way I felt.

People love to ask me if I'm homesick. Especially now that I'm pregnant. They also love to remind me that New Jersey is amazing, that there are so many things I love there, that it's better than where I am now - as if I've somehow forgotten all of that.

I haven't.

But honestly, I'm not homesick anymore. Not really. Because while New Jersey was and will always be my home state and I miss certain things, I'm not oblivious to how shitty our situation was there. I'm not blind to how fucking ridiculously expensive it is to live there. I'm no longer surprised by friends and family who are trapped in shit living situations, in shit houses, in shit jobs... because of how impossible it is to change up there any more. And these aren't people who live beyond their means, these are people in modest homes or apartments trying to eek out an existence on 70+ hour a week jobs and constantly feeling like they're beating their heads against a brick wall.

Almost everyone I know back home is miserable. They're depressed. They're unhappy. They feel trapped and stuck and like they're pissing their lives away on monotonous, unchangeable bullshit. And they can't get out; because as taxes keep soaring and the cost of living becomes even more insane their wages don't increase. And then they pick up second or third jobs and don't have time to even see the place they're pissing their money in to except to sleep.

So, no. I'm not homesick. Because that's not the same atmosphere I grew up in. The one I grew up in was filled with just as many hardworking people, just as many modest and sometimes a little beat to hell homes. But there were weekends on the beach. There were hikes in the mountains. There was time for laughter, relaxation, relationships. And those weren't luxuries just a few people could enjoy.

Don't get me wrong, I miss the kitsch. I miss the beach. I miss the unwavering Jersey Pride and fuck you attitudes. I miss longer Springs and Autumns. I miss being within an hour of the mountains, the coast, and the city. I miss not being asked why I don't sound like someone from that terrible "Jersey Shore" show (uhhh... because I'm from New Jersey, not New York). But I don't miss the life we'd most likely have lived had we stayed.

And I sure as hell wouldn't give up the one I have now.

Droids, Art & Beer - Oh My!

This past weekend was incredibly busy, but also completely amazing. First off, that stomach bug finally let me eat real food on Saturday! I was so excited as I ate my fast food burger (don't judge me) that I almost cried tears of bad for me happiness.

I can't even reiterate all of the stuff Joe and I crammed in to those two days, but when we went to bed Sunday night and I was thinking back on everything, I honestly had a hard time figuring out how we made time to do so much. Both around the house and outside of it.

We kicked it off by going to SC Comic Con, organized by our favorite comic shop. This was the very first year they did this and the attendance was insane! Way more people went than anyone suspected, I hear the total count was around 7,000 attendees. That's pretty incredible for a start up event! The Con itself was great and we had a blast walking around looking at displays like the 1960's Batmobile that my first Batman, Adam West, drove around in, as well as seeing all the clever cosplays and talking to different artists whose booths we visited. In fact, I didn't buy a single comic but rather spent all of the money I'd brought on artwork.

The Bioshock print is by Atlanta based artist Chris Hamer of Urbnpop, the monsters (it was SO hard to only choose 3) are from Asheville artist Fian Arroyo, Batgirl and Wonder Woman are from Alex Ogle and the Steve Zissou has two artists names that I can't make out on it.


I tried to make friends with this astromech droid, but he was a bit camera shy!


Some Con highlights. The Batmobile and us hamming it up as action figures.

After the con, we headed over to the local homebrew shop to pick out a special beer that will help us celebrate baby's arrival, since it will be finished around the same time as the birth happens. We had good conversations with the owners, the wife and I talked about natual child birth, she was SO excited to meet a young person who wants an unmedicated birth and plans to do things as simply and naturally as possible. We sampled a few of their homebrews to get an idea of what we may want to go for and I decided on a porter. Reasons being 1) I LOVE dark beer 2) Dark beer is said to help with breast milk production (if anyone wants to lecture me, please go away) and 3) porters aren't as heavy as stouts. Since it'll be Summer this is important.

The one we picked out is a clone of the Black Butte Porter by Deschutes Brewery which we've decided to call "Baby Butt Beer". See what we did there? ;)

Sunday began with the hubster pleasantly surprising me with an amazing breakfast in bed spread to celebrate my ability to eat real food again. And just because he's nice like that. Here I am groggy and giddy over waffles, watermelon and coffee!

We then went out and ran a few errands, did some shopping and came home to work on some projects around the house. The biggest one being nearing completion on the pantry Joe built for me in the kitchen. My one major pet peeve about our home is the lack of storage, especially in the kitchen. A friend of ours had given us a huge corner cabinet that we had in the kitchen to use for extra storage but it wasn't ideal, especially when we decided to get a small chest freezer. Everything was starting to take over the dining room portion of the space! So, we planned a pantry and Joe built it, with adjustable shelves and everything, so I can't complain about the spacing. Clever devil, that one!

Only thing left to do is build the doors for it. But I'm super happy with it! Eventually we are going to strip the cabinets and paint them to match. You know, when I have energy and we have the time for it. So, someday. ;-)

We wrapped up the weekend by brewing up the Baby Butt. It took a few hours, during which we ate dinner, played some games and just hung out and chillaxed together. It was one of those weekends that I love, where nothing seems amazing to the outside observer, but I go to bed that last night feeling accomplished, happy and oh so loved.

Gratitude versus Sugar Coating

Since I announced jumping off the "Positivity" Train in a post a few months back, there have been a few people bewildered by my participation in the Gratitude Sunday project.

As I said in my aforementioned, extra ranty, post, a lot of what we refer to as the positivity movement feels like a high pressure sales pitch towards a fake, sugar coated life. It's a bunch of people editing photos, mailing out newsletters and running websites that make some readers - including this one - question the value of the lives they're living and doles out guilt for not making each and every moment of every single day on this Earth magical and special and memorable.

It makes you look around your house or apartment, at the streets, suburbs or familiar woods outside of your home and sigh, "Why can't this be tropical paradise?" It makes you long for a magically easy way to make a living, to globe trot, to throw common sense on the fire and follow whimsy. Seriously, who doesn't that sound good to? Unfortunately, it's not feasible for most people and really, why should we feel badly for having a good, if not exotic, life? What's the point in creating guilt or feelings of failure in your readers? Isn't that sort of, kind of, the opposite of being legitimately positive?

For those reasons, I've quit reading any and all blogs, newsletters, etc that fall in to that vein. I don't want your snake oil disguised as sunshine, thanks. What I do want though, is to be healthily positive and to find the up sides in the life I'm living. Not the shoulda, woulda, coulda life or the unrealistic fairy tale one; the real one I'm living. Right here, right now.

Thinking back on a day, or a week, and finding things which I can say with certainty that I am grateful for is a good way for me to do that. It's not a sugar coated way of putting a positive spin on a crap day, because let's face it, some days are just shit. That's the honest to goodness truth. But even in those shit days, there may be one little ray of sunshine that you would have overlooked if you didn't think back on it at the end of the day.

Nothing life changing, mind you, though it could be. I'm talking something simple, like a delicious piece of cake, no line at your favorite coffee spot, a silly photo message from a friend, a well timed hug from a loved one or a fucking great nap. Keeping a list of these awesome bright spots helps keep me from focusing on the fact that the other 23 hours of the day were total bull shit and helps me clear my mind and go to bed without a little black rain cloud over my head.

It shifts my perspective just enough to remind me that while everything isn't always sunshine and unicorn farts, it's also not always a deep dark cave of deep dark despair, either. And for me, that honest gratitude is a fuck ton more beneficial than any highly polished pitch about what I should be doing to improve my life. Or rather, how to edit your life to seem perfect.

Because, fuck all that.

Of Trips and Funks; A Wee Ramble

We took an incredibly quick trip up North to visit our families in New Jersey this past weekend and attend a baby shower that my mom put together for us. And by quick, I mean brutally quick. As in 2 days quick. The car ride up was as expected, long and uncomfortable, as I had to stop, stretch and use the facilities every 1-2 hours and it poured for the last 4 hours of the drive, which made it slow going.

But, we made it safe and sound and stayed at a friend's house and were even able to meet up with friends we haven't seen in 2 years to catch up over late night diner munchies. We spent time with all of our parents, some of our extended family and were even able to visit our favorite woodland spots... mine on a mountain top and his in a swampy creek. We had a good, if hurried, time before heading back South on Monday.

We could have taken a longer trip, especially since I'm now a homemaker and Joe has vacation time, but we're squirreling that paid time off away for when the Acorn makes its arrival. His company gives him one week of paid paternity leave, but he wants to stay home with us for as long as he can afford to so he can give me time to recuperate, so we can figure out this new parenting thing together and so he can spend as much time with his baby as he can in the beginning. I'm over the moon knowing that he'll be here with me for those first few weeks and I've put a "no visitors allowed" rule in effect for that time period. Some people will think this is mean or tacky, but this is the first and longest time we'll have together as a family without work interfering. Everybody else can give us those precious few weeks (a grand total of 21 days) to enjoy and respect our wishes, or they can get bent out of shape over it. Their reaction isn't my concern, my newly made family is.

All that aside, despite how very much I love my family and friends up North and how very homesick I am for New Jersey sometimes, I couldn't wait to get back to my house, curl up in my own bed, pull the covers up over my head and go back to vegging. That's not a normal feeling for me, usually I love trips and vacations and want to prolong our stay by another day or two. Especially when we're back North, because there are so many places I want to visit again that we never seem to find the time to get to. But not this time.

I've also fallen out of my crafty, outdoorsy and spiritual practices. Blood Moon? What blood moon? I didn't even make it outside to look at her. I've been unemployed for almost three weeks now and I've not gotten even half of what I'd hoped to have accomplished by now finished. To be fair to myself, I was stressed out with vet visits and animal illnesses and took a small trip, but even so, the motivation is hard to dredge up most days. It's not a depression, but it is a funk. I feel worn out, pooped and sloth-like most days with the occasional day of ludicrous motivation in which I dramatically overdo it thrown in just to keep me on my toes. It's a bizarre feeling for me, one which I can only really blame on pregnancy hormones as I sometimes feel this way during my Moon Times.

While I'd very much like to snap out of it, I'm having a hard time finding the fucks to put towards doing so, until the end of the day when I become frustrated by all of my inactivity and sluggishness. My family and friends tell me it's ok, because I'm pregnant and my body is undergoing drastic changes and the baby is sucking up some of my resources and while I want to believe them, as my own worst critic, I have a nearly impossible time not being hard on myself for being lazy. I've always been a doer, a mover, a fairly motivated person and this drastic change is beyond frustrating to me.

Hopefully I'll get some of my pre-prego energy back soon.

Why I "Changed my Mind" About Being a Mommy

I've been getting this question a lot, in regards to my decision to get pregnant and join the circle of Motherhood. My initial reaction was one of learned defensiveness where I just wanted to say "None of your fucking business" and leave it at that.

But, here's the thing. If I share my story maybe I can be a small deterrent in what people consider to be socially acceptable to pester women about. So, here's why I "changed my mind" about having a child.

You see... I didn't change my mind. Somewhere inside of me, I've always wanted to be a mom. I've known since I was a child that if I had a baby, I didn't want to find out what I was having before birth (and I'm not finding out). I've had names picked out since my teen, though they've changed and evolved now.

But, there were obstacles to overcome before I decided to bring a new life in to this world and be responsible for it. If you read my Painting the Feminine post titled The Noble Path you'll recall that I've only recently come clean about my fears of being barren due to a slew of medical issues. That fear was enough to have me tuck the want for a child somewhere down deep inside myself; I may have been a physical masochist during the darkest days of my depression, but I'd never have willingly hurt myself emotionally. It's not an exaggeration to say that at a certain point in my life, that level of disappointment could have been life threatening.

Which leads me to my second obstacle; there were a lot of emotional walls for me to tear down and a lot of healing work to do on myself. Some things may never be healed fully, such as being O.K. with people touching me or being in my personal space without my permission, but others could be and needed to be. I couldn't take care of a child when I still felt like I was responsible for taking care of my younger siblings, I couldn't take care of a child while I thought of family as nothing more than a hive of hurt and disappointment, I couldn't take care of a child while I was busy being terrified I'd turn in to my own parents and I sure as shit couldn't take care of a child when I was too much of an emotional nightmare to even take care of myself.

No one really asks you when you're going to have kids until you get married, so I didn't have to explain myself for a while. But once Joe and I were married, it seems everyone felt it was their personal duty to inquire about the emptiness of my uterus and when that may change. At first I just said, when I'm damn well good and ready.

Which should have been enough, but never seemed to be. Because these same people; family, friends, coworkers... would ask me repeatedly. Some would do it each time they saw me and others would keep a watchful eye on things like whether I was drinking wine or beer at parties and gossiping amongst themselves to see if I was pregnant.

Let me stop my own story here to make a very important point, which is the entire reason I'm going in to this: it is never and I mean NEVER acceptable or ok to pry this much in to someone else's personal life. If you chose to get knocked up at 24, 16, a week after you got married, before you were married, at the sperm bank - good for you. I respect your reproductive decisions but you and I aren't the same. Nor are we the same as anyone else. The choice whether or not to reproduce is an incredibly personal one and shouldn't be relegated to water cooler or family reunion gossip. You don't know what someone is going through or what their reasons are and to be completely honest and frank it is none of your fucking business, regardless of your relationship. And should you ask if someone is planning to have a child, take their answer at its face value and move on. Do not guilt them with wanting to be a grandparent, aunt, uncle or want your child to have a playmate. Emotional blackmail is one of the reasons so very many relationships of all sorts are in shambles, don't do it.

My answer of "when I'm ready" was never enough and people wanted to pry in to why I wasn't ready, when I would be ready or (my personal favorite line of bullshit) reminded me that I was getting old (I turned 31 17 days ago). I finally hit a wall with what I could take and refusing to dignify their inquiries with highly personal and private information, I began telling people that I didn't want kids and in fact, greatly disliked them.

That's right. I started telling family members and friends that I didn't like kids and never planned to have any, simply so they would shut up, leave me alone and let me get to the business of taking care of myself. When you think about it, that's a really sad situation. No one should have to lie to get people to respect their boundaries.

But I did. For years. And right up until the day I got pregnant there were only a dozen people that knew that I did, in fact, want children.

So to answer the question of "Why" or "What" made me change my mind... nothing did. Because it hasn't changed. I just have been dishonest with a large group of very intrusive people for a very long time in order to give myself the emotional space that I required but was consistently refused.

If you're in that group, or someone like them, I hope this will serve as a lesson to you and that in the future you will understand that not everyone is an open book and not everyone welcomes personal questions and prying. And that even if they're ok with your asking, please don't ever turn it in to a stalk and gossip situation, because that's really unnerving and creepy.

If I can get even one person to change a behavior by telling my own story, that will be enough. That's the biggest reason that I share personal stories about depression, fear, healing and other personal issues in this forum; to advocate and hopefully touch others in some small way. I'm much better at writing about them than I am at speaking about them and only share when the time and tone sits right in my heart and in my mind; never before I'm ready to do so.


*****
Less heavy stuff on the horizon. Cross my heart. xox

First Look

We had our first glimpse at baby today and I can't quite put in to words what that meant or felt like for me but I'll try.

It felt like my heart cracked open a little bit wider, like my entire world had been flipped upside down. Like I would never be unhappy again. I mourned the loss of my non-mommy days in that moment while looking forward to the first time I get to hold that little life in my arms. I felt like laughing and crying and jumping up and down but instead squeezed Joe's hand and smiled. Seeing our summer child in there, kicking and punching the air made everything so much more real for me.

All that, from just a glimpse.


P.S. For those of you going "whhhhaaaaaaaaa?" right now, please see my last post of 2013 where I spill the beans sneakily. ;)

Nods from the Green

AS part of my coming out of the resting period my spiritual path took, I've been rebuilding my practice of pulling a card from my beloved Heart of Faerie oracle deck each morning. And so far this week, I have pulled the same card every day, regardless of how short or long I spend shuffling...

If you've been here for a while, then you know that the Green Woman is very special to me; she is the Divine Feminine for me. Powerful, wild and strong, yet gentle, nurturing and beautiful. She is the Goddess figure with whom I am most comfortable, the one whom I speak and turn to most often.

Nods from the Great Momma, making me feel like I'm finding all the right footings for all of my various paths. And letting me know when I stumble, she's got my back.

Being Brave and Farewelling 2013

This year felt like a make you or break you year, it came in like a lion and is going out like a lion; it's been powerful. I don't know if it's felt similar to all of you, but I felt like every time I turned around, there was a new challenge, decision, obstacle or detour to navigate and that it was a year of intense growth, even when I felt like I was sitting still.

To the casual observer, it probably seemed like a slow year for me. I didn't go on as many day trips or adventures as in previous years and I spent an awful lot of time introverting and digging deep - things that made it seem, since I was being silent and not terribly active, like I was depressed. But I wasn't. Instead, I was dredging up old wounds to heal them, calling forth expectations, hopes, dreams and stances that no longer served me and burning them to make space for new ones. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've had what feel like cracks in myself for years and have had trouble reconciling who I actually am with who I used to expect I'd turn out to be based on upbringing and societal expectations. I've spent the year healing those cracks by banishing my inner bullies and letting go of material, spiritual and emotional baggage and I'm pleased to say, my self doubt is ebbing. It still creeps in from time to time, especially if I'm physically feeling weak or ill, but I'm better able to let that moment pass and lift myself back up more easily than I ever have before.

And I wouldn't trade those accomplishments and personal growths for a bunch of adventures, because the highs that come from them are fleeting. The marks of these growth are permanent.

That's not to say there were no adventures, trips or good times had. This has been, while an intense year, a very very good one and one I'm not likely to forget any time soon. Joe and I celebrated our fifth anniversary, a few trips to our beloved New Jersey to visit, I got my very first passport and went on my very first international trip to Jamaica, I farewelled my 20's and brought in my 30's with a fabulously mad tea party, we spent a relaxing weekend at the beach - in February, we went up to Gatlinburg, Tennessee for a fun weekend in the mountains filled with moonshine and Ripley's attractions, and I went very high up in the air.

My one little word for 2013 was Brave, and it led me to bigger, higher and greater places than I could ever have seen myself going. It takes courage to dig deep in to yourself, to unflinchingly dredge up painful shit and stare it in the face and to make necessary changes; like quitting a job that's sucking the soul out of you, your life, your marriage and your friendships because money is less important than those, like calling bullshit on perfection and the overly syrupy positivity movement (real gratitude is ok, but the highly polished lies are not), like getting out of the shit spiral that is social media and like culling your circle of trusted hearts. It takes bravery to try new things, especially ones that make you nervous, and I did quite a few; from international travel, to meeting with a business counselor to set up Heartroot Studio as a legitimate business, to learning how to handle and shoot firearms, to sharing not just the finished product but laying raw and bare the emotions behind my artworks, like sending a note to a long lost friend even though you know you won't hear back, to pare down and accept simplicity and slow days in a constantly bustling and searching world. It takes bravery to support family members who need it, to offer a shoulder and help without giving up to much of yourself. And, it takes a lot of bravery to overcome incredible terrors and fears...

...like heights. Which I did not once, but twice. First with a ride on a very tall amusement park ride and again with an hour long ride on a hot air balloon.

As this year closes and we're about to take our first steps in to the new one, I've been pondering my one little word for 2014; which I can promise will be another monumental year for me. How do I know that? Well, I'll tell you all about that a bit later. We're focusing on the past right now. And honestly, I think Brave will follow me in to 2014; it's served me so well these past 12 months that I'd like to see where it will push my Wild Woman spirit next. To temper Brave's teachings and accomplishments, it will be joined by grounded this year.

So, my Two Little Words for 2014 (because I'm a rebel) are:

Brave

1. possessing or exhibiting courage or courageous endurance.
2. making a fine appearance.
3. Archaic. excellent; fine; admirable.
4. a brave person.
5. a warrior, especially among North American Indian tribes.
7. to meet or face courageously: to brave misfortunes.
8. to defy; challenge; dare.
9. Obsolete . to make splendid.


Grounded

1. used to describe a person who is sensible and has a good understanding of what is really important in life
2. mentally and emotionally stable : admirably sensible, realistic, and unpretentious
3. Centered, Level-Headed

As I step in to the New Year, I plan to do so with my head held high and my feet firmly planted on the ground. I want to boldly face new challenges and create an even more splendid life, without losing the roots I've put down these past few years. When things get tough, I want to be able to center myself and to listen to the call of my intuition. I want to run the spiritual gamut between Heaven and Earth, with my past streaming away behind me and my future coming in to view.

Even more than that, I want to be brave for myself, my husband and our soon to be Summer Child, as big changes take shape and upheave the comfortable life of two people to make room for a third. I'm not someone who typically embraces change or handles it well and this one, while planned, expected and anticipated, will be a doozy. Yes loves, I'm pregnant. :)

As I said before, 2014 is going to be a very big year for us. One whose changes and challenges I am wholeheartedly looking forward to, one who will break open and stretch my heart even further than it has been before, one that will be spectacular. 2013 was the year that Brave led me to say to the Universe, myself and my love "I'm Ready" and 2014 will be the year that Brave and Grounded will see us through monumental change.

Thank you 2013, for everything. You've been awesome, even at the lowest of points and I've healed and flourished so, so much.

Welcome, 2014. Here's to a blessed year filled with laughter, growth, health, love, a growing family... and a whole lot of patience.

And of course, for all of you who've made it to the end, pictures! xox Happy New Year!

My 30th Birthday

Joe's 31st Birthday

Luna's 1st Birthday.

Double rainbow over the sea at Asbury Park, NJ.

Reuniting with friends I haven't seen in years.

Ice Cream Dates... don't worry, that's puppy ice cream.

Ballooning!

A week in paradise...

Ridiculous Halloween costumes.

Christmas Photobooth hilarity.

I've been really slack this year with keeping my photos organized and uploaded. So, sorry for the repeats. ;)

Bits and Bobs

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving here in the States and that those of you elsewhere had a nice weekend! Joe and I spent that day puttering around the house, watching the Macy's Parade in the morning (a tradition I've kept since I was a little girl) and then heading to my best friend's for dinner with him and his family who was visiting from New Jersey. We all ate far too much dinner and had a lot of laughs at the table and while digesting on the couch before going back for delicious deserts. Once we were stuffed to the gills and ready to take a nice long nap, Joe and I helped clean up and headed back to our home where we spent the evening on the couch with the the fur babies. Joe played the newest Assassin's Creed game while I read The Wind in the Willows. I dozed off several times before he shooed me and Luna Petunia to bed at 1am.

Mommy, get your ass in bed!

This was the first time in my 15 years of employment that I've had the day after Thanksgiving off and I took full advantage of it by... sleeping late. Of course I didn't go out shopping, don't be silly! Between working in retail for over a decade and for banks the rest of the time, I've had more than a lifetime's fill of that nonsense. In the early afternoon we ventured to the hardware store for a can of paint for my newly finished nightstand and then stopped at the little Christmas Tree place we've gone to every year since we bought the house. It's a small family run place and it's been fun to go every year and see their kids grow up and their business grow a little bigger.

We poked and touched and I may have hugged a few trees, until we found the perfect Yulemas tree; a little smaller than our previous ones but much, much fuller! Joe carried him over to the pay station while I paid. The man who works there asked Joe if he had carried the tree over himself and he pointed to the man's 6 year old son and said "Nope! Muscles here did it, all on his own." The boy just grinned and grinned. When they put it through the bagger, the man had forgotten his scissors and had to run to find some. Joe tried to stop him, but he didn't hear him, so he cut the netting with his pocket knife (have I ever mentioned that my husband is an Eagle Scout?) and winked at the boy and told him to tell his dad he'd chewed through the ropes. When dad got back and Joe and the boy were laughing, Joe told him his son had cut the net with his teeth and dad said "That's my little wolverine!" Gotta love a family with a good sense of humor. :) That's why we keep going back!

Poor Joe, I had us facing the sun so we'd have some light. Doesn't he look thrilled?

Unfortunately, our beautiful tree sat undecorated for a bit as I woke up Saturday morning with a Gods awful cold! Joe, Luna and the kitties have been taking very good care of me; the furs by laying on me to make sure I'm (too) warm and Joe's been keeping me full of hot tea and honey and set up my side of the bedroom with my nightstand and vaporizer so I can sleep better. I'm happy to report that I'm on the mend, still a little snuffly and now with the cough of the scratchy-healing throat, but I feel human again. Mostly.

I managed to feel well enough to go out and celebrate a friend's birthday at a low key party at a mutual friend's house, complete with cake and the trimming of their tree:

and I also felt well enough to supervise Luna and Joe putting the lights on our tree from my spot on the couch:

Luna is very particular, so I really didn't have to do very much. ;)

Once I'm fully free of germs, I have a list of Christmas gifts to get on making; fleece hats and wallet/pouches for our gazillion nieces (Ok, there are 8 of them but it feels like a million), jam to can and tuck in to gift baskets with ornaments and another special something or other for our parents, fudge to make and box up for our coworkers, collaborative projects between Joe and I for a few of the families we're friends with (we like the idea of a big thoughtful gift for the house that will be enjoyed as a family than a few puny things), paintings and a few people I haven't even thought of things to make for yet. So I've got my work cut out for me.

Oh! And cards. I need to get on those too. ;)

Busy, busy. Just the way I like it!