last night.

7:45pm: Fell asleep in Solomon's bed after reading books.

8:30pm: Wake up sweating. Stumble to the bathroom, take off pants, and fall into my bed.

11:00pm: Startled awake to Rainer crying.

11:30pm: Put Rainer back into bed, and fall into my bed, again.

2:45am: Jolted awake by Mr. P shoving Rainer on top of me. (apparently he had been up with him for 45 minutes already)

3:30am: Finally get Rainer back to sleep. Proceed to read some Anne Lamott on my phone to get tired again.

5:00am: Rainer awake, crying for "wilk" "wilk." Too tired to protest, I shove a bottle at him.

7:15am: Boys awake for the day.

Happy Friday! If only that meant something to my children.

So tired.

So, so tired.

mango citrus "ice cream"

Today is Mother's Day in Mexico. I always love that I get to celebrate myself twice.

And what better way to say "thank you" to myself than with mango--lemon "ice cream" on this hot HOT hot afternoon?

RECIPE

Mango Citrus "ice cream"

Excuse my pathetic lemon wedge. What can I say, I needed the juice.

{all quantities can be adjusted, as I actually didn't measure anything}

1 1/2 - 2 cups frozen mango chunks

1 1/2 - 2 cups milk

3/4 cup plain yogurt

1 t vanilla extract

juice of one whole lemon

1 packet stevia or sweetener of choice

Blend & Enjoy! Ours came out thick enough to eat with a spoon, just like ice cream.

Ahhhhh. I love feeling loved & appreciated.

this guy.

(Four is the best)

la laguna

sometimes you need to drag yourself to the lake... where the temps are (ever so slightly) cooler, the views spectacular, and the pace slower. even though with small kids it might not be "relaxing," it's still what you need.

Sometimes you need to give the camera to your four-year-old to document that you both still exist. Together.

and take the few moments to capture those beautiful portraits. remember exactly what they looked like in this very moment.

Even though there is never real "quiet" while in Mexico, there is something to be said about quieting the soul. Taking those few moments to actually see the horizon, breathe in the breeze, and play intentionally with your children.

currently...

Reading ... I just started reading The Whole Brain Child, in hopes to understand and help my children in these oh-so-lovely phases they are going through. Mainly the little guy. Let's just say t.a.n.t.r.u.m. I'm just at the beginning, but so far, I like it! There's already been some great tips for helping your child to tap into both sides of their brains while dealing with certain struggles. 

Watching ... We are currently watching Modern Family. An oldie, but a goodie. However, it's most definitely a distant second best to Parenthood. And speaking of, WHEN IS A NEW SEASON COMING OUT?!  Ahem.  Sorry, didn't mean to shout.

Anticipating ... Short term anticipation would be this weekend, which is a three day weekend, and we'll spend a night at Lake Chapala again. It's such an easy, convenient, lovely getaway spot. I think it's going to start being a little family tradition. Longer term anticipation would be this summer. CANNOT wait to get out of the country for a bit! We haven't seen any family since Thanksgiving! 

Laughing about ... Usually it's our boys wrestling naked before bed, when one of them lets out a toot and they both burst into giggles. It doesn't take much, really...

Listening to ... Yes, I realize I'm a few years behind, but I love working out to Phillip Phillips these days! (The World from the Side of the Moon) Such a fun, upbeat album!

Eating ... This is one of my all time favorite salads. It's super colorful and full of flavor, and not hard at all. It does require some chopping, so you have to give yourself time for that. 

photo credit: Once upon a chef

Working on ... This is the busiest time of year at my "other" job. The one I never speak of here, and even good friends I have in real life don't have a clue about. But, yes, I work part-time, and right now it's making me want to pull my hair out. Just a teeny bit. 

Thank you, I feel much better now.

Wishing ... We are all wishing for cooler temps, as we are just starting a two month stretch of our hottest season, where temps will hit 90*F/33*C pretty much daily. You know what sounds really good right now? A chilly ocean breeze, a hot latte in my hand, and a warm hoodie zipped up to my neck. 

Excuse me while I go fetch more ice cubes to stuff down my pants.

Ahem.

(i think this idea originated here)

good news, lately.

Sometimes I get into a rut of negativity, boredom perhaps; feeling a bit monotonous and uninspired.  I recognize it happening in the moment I snap at my kids or my husband...the days when I feel unappreciated and unnoticed and useless. (self-absorbent, much?)  Sigh.

Although I do recognize that motherhood in and of itself is much of a thankless job, requiring obscene amounts of self-sacrifice, resulting in a daily smack in the face with one's own selfishness. I know this. It's quite obvious, really. But, it doesn't make the monotony or getting pinched and yelled at by my four-year-old, going on fourteen-year-old any easier. And I *may* have cried myself to sleep the other night after he told me he didn't like me. 

Mothering isn't about being liked. I KNOW.  But, it doesn't make those words hurt any less.  Believe me.

I realized, as we enter into this weekend, that it's time for a mental shift; a few moments to find the good news, lately. And in the midst of whatever hell we find ourselves in - major or minor - isn't there always good news?

• Solomon and Rainer slowly waking up together in the same bed, snuggling. They both run into the kitchen where I am starting breakfast, and Solomon exclaims, "I just told Rainer he is the very BEST brother!" 
• A makeshift sprinkler in the backyard (read: my thumb in hose), giggle-filled water play until someone's diaper exploded.
• A delicious mouth-watering meal with my husband, paid for by someone else.
• Placing 3rd place in a 5k run and winning a night in a nice hotel.
• Booking our summer and Christmas travel plans, and feeling blessed for the time and resources to take vacations this year.
• Finding flavored coffee creamer at the grocery store. Multiple! Flavors! Not! Powdered!
• Watching Solomon run at soccer practice, and welling up inside with gratefulness for his health.

These are the days, my friend, these are the days.

the last pill.

Every single night before getting ready for bed I took a pill. Sometimes it was round and white, sometimes it was oval and light blue, and sometimes it was a multi colored capsule. Over the years I would switch brands based on price, but it was always a pill, the same ingredients inside to keep me balanced somehow.

If you've read even a little of this journal, you know that when I became a mom, I lost so much. Yes, I gained an immense gift who has enriched our lives tremendously, but I also lost the person I was before. It's been a 4+ year long battle back to wellness. Within those four years I gained yet another gift-- this one did not flip my hormones upside down as drastically, thankfully in part to those little pills I so faithfully swallowed, and not for a day do i take that for granted.

There are many roads to healing, hundreds perhaps, and mine is just one small twisting alley way. But, my friends, this week I reached the end of something. I took the last pill. (After a 6 week tapering process) For now, anyhow, that part of my journey is over. It was time.

It's not to say I wasn't whole before, or that you can't be whole and well and also on medication, believe me... NO. That's not what I'm saying.

But, somehow, the absence of those little pills in my life is significant. It represents the person I was before they ever entered my life, the person they gradually helped me to rediscover, and, now, the person I am without them.

I feel like I'm hypothetically closing a chapter in a big, old, dusty book-- one with some pages browned and crinkled, edges torn, cover worn.

Today, like everyday I suppose, we begin again.

I have to keep running.

On Tuesday morning, after watching the news coverage on the Boston Marathon bombing, all I could do was run.

I laced up my pink shoelaces, like I do every morning, and with my chin up, I ran. There may have been salty teardrops on that chin, but I ran. There is no keeping the runners down.

Did he realize that, I wonder?

I helplessly stared at the photo of little Martin Richard, the 8 year old who perished in the attack. and I prayed in earnest for his daddy, the shattered pieces of his life still sprawled out across the streets of Boston.

WHY?  I asked.  WHY. 

I know that if there is good in this world, there is also evil. If there is freedom, there is also captivity. But why must the children be the ones to lose their lives?

At the park yesterday our former nanny told me her 17 year old brother is home and waiting to die.

"There's nothing else they can do for him," she told me, tears in her eyes.

I weep. I don't even have the strength to ask why.

I weep for her and for him. I weep for their mommy, whom we love dearly. I weep for Bill Richard and all of the other victims' families of the Boston Marathon attack. And I hate that every time I turn on the news, I see his face - the one responsible. I don't want to see him; I want to see Martin. I want him to continue living, somehow.

But he can't, and Enrique can't either, and it just kills me. I'm gonna keep running, now more than ever. 

convos with Solito.

It's been awhile, no? I've got some good ones saved up for your giggling pleasure.

~~~~~~~~~~

Me: Who tied your shorts?

Solo: I don't know.

Me: What do you mean you don't know? Did you tie them?!

Solo: No. Maybe Jesus did!

~~~~~~~~~~

Solo: Is Jesus in Rainer's heart?

Me: Yeah I think so, what do you think?

Solo: It's just that when I felt his heart, it wasn't bouncing!!

~~~~~~~~~~

(the next convo might be hard to fully appreciate if you don't speak Spanish, but it's still funny.)

Solo: Guess what? Miss Janet, the "miss" of the whole school, got really BIG. Really, really BIG, and she becomed a prince. And then she went home to take a rest. 

Me: Huh. So, she went home to take a rest? (she is retiring)

Solo: Yes! Because she's too BIG!

Me: So, if she went home to rest, who's going to be the "miss" of the whole school?

Solo: Dave!

Me: Who's Dave?

Solo: You know! Daddy's friend, Dave!

bloglovin'.

hi friends!

this is a logistic housekeeping post. word on the street is google reader is going bye bye. which is fine with me because i use the Newsify app to read blogs, and it's awesome. i feel like i need to add an easy way for you to subscribe to this blog, so you can automatically receive new posts (if you don't already).

Here it is.

Bloglovin'.

Cute, right?

You sign up with an email address or with Facebook and then you can add all your favorite blogs and have all the posts in one pretty place. You can also browse popular blog posts, and perhaps find new reads in the process! Win!

Click the cute little button below to follow: 

to last forever.

I want to tell you about this moment because it was beautiful, and I don't want it to be gone and done already. Somehow, with meager words, I want it to last forever.

We ate a delicious meal, sizzling vegetables in a hot molcajete, with warm tortillas and fresh orange juice, overlooking the lake as the sun was perched low in the sky. Fortunately, the boys were hungry enough that they ate in silence, washing down their taquitos with gulps of ice cold naranjadas. As the sun went from yellow to orange, we basked in its beckoning to relax. Solomon watched a little girl, about seven or eight, wading in the restaurant's pool about 15 feet away. There was a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes, a wondering of why or how or when she managed to submerge herself, clothes on, in an ice cold pool, alone. He pondered this, in silence. 

Across the table, Rainer was anything but silent. His grunts and squawks were endearing, and also annoying. But his plump thighs overflowing from his light green romper made him quite lovable, and any chirping was forgiven. While Solomon is cautious, Rainer is reckless. While Solomon observes, Rainer plunges in. Quite literally. It took Mr. P's physical restraint to hold that little rugrat back. And, finally, as we've learned many other times in parenting, it's best to release them - to dive in, spontaneously, to their thirst to experience.

Before I knew it, all three of my boys were up to their necks in the water, all their clothes on, teeth chattering, grins from ear to ear. As I watched them splashing and laughing, the golden sunlight reflecting on their faces in the clear blue water, I gasped ever so slightly, searching for my breath in the midst of this perfect moment. All was right in our world in that instant. And I wanted to grasp at the beauty of it, wrap my fingers around it, and put it in my pocket. Somehow, I wanted to be able to dig deep for it on a lonesome Monday, while sopping up spilled milk and blocking out the shrill screams of my demanding toddler. When I need it so desperately, I want that snapshot to be there, at arms reach, to comfort me with its loveliness.  

"Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs; our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong." (Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird) 

just write

looking back.

Sometimes it's fun to browse the archives on this here blog. It's comforting to see how far we've come, the struggles we've overcome, the memories we now treasure. Next month I'll hit 3 years of blogging.  0_0  

I KNOW.

Almost three years ago I had just decided to start writing about my experience with postpartum depression, specifically as a foreigner here in Mexico. My writing started out shaky, sometimes downright pathetic, but they were words. My words. And I was putting them out there. I wrote for the first time about my c-section in May of 2010 (almost 2 years after the fact). The emotions were fresh. I am still surprised at the clicks that post gets, all this time later. There are moms who relate, who feel that shame, who feel less than. And it's still not okay with me.

Two years ago I was 10 weeks pregnant with Rainer, feeling incredibly sick and discouraged, surviving by a thread. (see: this post) I remember afternoons sprawled out on the couch, in tears, wondering what we were thinking when we decided to have another child. But there was a sliver of hope I held onto, knowing somewhere deep within that I was meant for this child, and he was meant for us. (We both knew it was a boy.) 

One year ago, I was basking in the incredible difficulty and incredible joy overflowing in my life through my boys; the paradox of parenting.  I had made it to the six month postpartum mark. It turned out I was okay. Heck, I was more than okay. We were thriving, me and my boys. I remember even though I felt great, it still seemed as though I was holding my breath, waiting for that invisible, hypothetical "finish line," so I would know we finally made it.  As each month came and went, I felt us inching closer.  Now, in retrospect, I cannot put my finger on a day, a week, or even a month when I felt I could finally exhale.  It was a gradual process of becoming comfortable in our new normal, accepting my strengths and weaknesses, and then recognizing myself at the end of it all. 

Oh, why, hello. There you are.

What a wild ride it's been.

And it's so very nice to be on this side of the "finish line."

goodbye.

Marvel Hutt

...Grandma...

March 12, 1928 - March 27, 2013

She is from fields of corn and wheat swaying in the breeze

She is from brothers and sisters, noisy laughter, smelly feet & dirty dishes

She is from a deep instinct to mother, to deeply love and be loved

She is from grief, heart craters from saying goodbye too much, too soon

She is from brave commitment, lasting love, faith in the one true God

She is from kitchens filled with hungry mouths to feed, steaming eggs, bacon, & sourdough toast

She is from laughing so hard tears begin to fall; wrinkles in the corners of her eyes

She is from all kinds of pain - loneliness, the aching of muscles, the loss of a life partner

She is from never giving up, a pillar of strength, leading a family on

She is from tiny, beautiful hands, delicate fingers and toes

She is from fresh raspberry jam, fingers stained pink, and her famous pot roast

She is from crossword puzzles filling long, sleepless nights and road-trips

She is from a house full of children, babies, grandbabies, & great-grandbabies

She is from persistence.

She is from hope.

She is from grace

just write.

My title implies it's simple. Just do it. 

Like brushing your teeth or watering the plants. Just write. 

In an ideal world I would make the space in my life for it. It would be non-negotiable like working out or showering. But the days pass, and my 'new post' screen stays white. 

Maybe it's a good thing that life is ho hum and nothing major is forcing me to desperately tap out the swirling thoughts. But, I feel better when I write, that's a given, and I deserve to feel better. We all do.

This past week has been emotional. On Wednesday a new mom in New York City, 

Cynthia Wachenheim, jumped to her death from her apartment on the eighth floor. Her 10 month old son was snug against her chest in the Ergobaby. He survived, cushioned somehow by her body upon impact. I cried for Cynthia Wachenheim; I wish I knew her. I cried for that baby and for his daddy. Just like I cried for Kristi Couvillon Wise in 2010 who left behind a beautiful daughter. I wish somehow our world was so good that these things never happened; that no mom ever felt this lost or this alone or this ashamed. 

And so, I must continue writing. We all must.

My dad had double bypass open heart surgery last Thursday morning at the age of 59. I hated that I couldn't visit him in the hospital or bring him hot soup this morning, his first morning waking up at home. Sometimes being away sucks.  But, I'm thankful for God's protection over his life and that his surgery was successful.  I don't know why he got help in time to fix his broken heart and Cynthia Wachenheim didn't. I'll never know. None of it makes sense, really. 

Let's keep on writing.

just write

convos with Solo: bilingual edition.

(hazards of raising a child bilingual.)

Solo:  When I get my new disfraces (costumes) I'm gonna say to my friends, "no te lo puedo prestar porque tiene piojos."

translation:  I can't share with you because it has lice.

Me: ::stifles laughter:: Umm. ::more laughter:: 

Solo: Why are you laughing?

Me: Do you know what that means?

Solo: Yeah. It means, "I can't share with you because it's only for me."

Me: Almost, sweetie, almost.

::wink::

we survived.

WHHHEWWW.

Here it is: Friday, the last final push before daddy gets home tonight after five long and tiring days.

Of course my kid gets sick while I'm parenting alone. Of course he does.

In these last five days, I've been puked on twice, hit and screamed at multiple times by overtired children, eaten five brownies, went for four runs to clear my head, and treated myself to Starbucks twice. We've made pizza with friends, went to soccer practice, resorted to wandering grocery store aisles to feel human, jumped on the trampoline to shake our sillies out, and bunked slumber-party-style together in one room. We ... more specifically I ... have lost it once at around 5 am after being up for 3 hours with a screamer. Not my proudest or most favorite moment. Not even. 

But, here we are.

Friday.

There are those intimidating things in life like caring for two children alone for week, half of which the car was in the shop, and half of which I had a puker/non-sleeper. And then at the (almost) end of it all, you look back on that big ole' intimidating thing THAT YOU JUST ROCKED and you give yourself a high five or a double shot espresso and you admit that it was ugly at times, but you did that thing you were so scared to do. 

I am woman, hear me R O A R.

Happy International Women's Day, chicas!

monday morning quiet.

in this very moment the only sound i can hear is the hum of my laptop and the pattering of my fingers on its keys. ah, what a nice way to enter into this new week. as i pause, a car whooshes by. and then, quiet.

our car is in the shop. hopefully nothing major. Mr. P left early today for a 5 day work trip, and Rainer picked up on my anxiety and cooperated by sleeping through the night last night.  it was the boost i needed to get a running start today. already this morning Rainer & I ventured out on the bus to pay our rent and go to the gym. i'm feeling like we can do this.

he's quite the popular little guy with the trainers at my gym. when i walked in with him strapped to my back in the Ergo carrier, they thought i showed up without my little one. then, 'pop!' came his head out from behind me to their (and his) delight.

today i'm thankful for community. it's been almost seven years in this foreign land, but the days when i feel loved and supported remind me that in many ways, we do finally belong. this morning our neighbors gave Solo a ride to school. this afternoon his buddy's mommy is giving him a ride home. later today a (new) good friend is coming over for tea & to keep us company. this is how it should be. 

it feels nice to not feel alone. and right now in this very moment, the quiet is exactly what i need.

thank you, sweet baby, for taking your nap for mommy.

cheers to this week; LET'S DO THIS THING!  

love & belonging.

I've been listening to Ted Talks a lot recently while I workout at the gym. A talk by researcher and social worker Brene Brown really struck a chord with me. 

I wish I could come here and spill out words from my heart, but the reality is, there is a 16 month old throwing a temper tantrum at my feet, dirty dishes in the sink, and toys strewn all over the house. I need to go to the gym, run errands, and today Solomon is bringing two friends over to play. Then I get to play cab driver going back and forth to soccer practice, dropping off friends, picking up Mr. P. This is the reality of life. It's not "busy-ness" necessarily, it's two small children. One of which is cutting molars and thinks the world may end.

Brene Brown says, toward the end of her talk, the following... Profound words about the next generation.

And we perfect, most dangerously, our children. Let me tell you what we think about children. They're hardwired for struggle when they get here. And when you hold those perfect little babies in your hand, our job is not to say, "Look at her, she's perfect. My job is just to keep her perfect --make sure she makes the tennis team by fifth grade and Yale by seventh grade." That's not our job. Our job is to look and say, "You know what? You're imperfect, and you're wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging." That's our job. Show me a generation of kids raised like that, and we'll end the problems I think that we see today. 

In order for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen, really seen.

This is good stuff. If you have about 15 minutes, go over and watch the talk. It's worth it, I promise.  It's so good I wanted to embed the video here, but of course that's not working and I'm thisclosetopullingmyhairout. So you'll have to just go on over to Ted Talks to watch it.

xox

dear daughter.

Dear daughter,

This feels awkward, this writing to an imaginary being. But, I just can't seem to get you out of my head. Every time I see a pink tutu pinned on pinterest, or I stumble upon dollhouse designs or mary jane crocs, I think of you. Each time another friend announces they are expecting a baby girl, I genuinely smile for them, but somewhere deep inside, I miss you more.

This is probably the only letter I will ever write to you, and as awkward as it is, I must do it. I have to tell you all the things I've held in my heart for ages. Then I know I have to let you go.

First of all, let's just get this out in the open: tampons are where it's at. The key is in the angle; I know you can do it.  Ah yes, I can see you rolling your eyes, but honestly, friends are more important than boys in junior high. So, sit with the girls at lunch, plan slumber parties, go for bike rides after school, do each others' nails. You will have plenty of time for boys when you are older, believe me.

Envy will suck the life out of you. It will rob you of joy and confidence. It's not worth your energy; instead dwell on what you love about yourself.

You are so beautiful. You are perfect just the way you are. I will never stop loving you.

Did you know that you can be anything you want to be? You don't have to be a nurse; you can be a doctor. You don't have to be a receptionist; you can be a lawyer. You don't have to be an assistant; you can be a director. I know all of these are good things, but just remember there is no box that constrains you.

Someday, when you become a mother (if you choose to do so), for a time you will feel like you lost yourself. Allow yourself to grieve if you must. But, don't despair... you will be back... and better than you ever were before. More than anything, children teach us selflessness, sacrifice, and we finally understand that the world is so far beyond ourselves.

In my head I know that having a daughter is so much more than pedicure dates and shopping for prom dresses and planning your wedding. All of those things I will miss, and the dull ache is certainly there. But, in my heart I just want to know what you would look like... would you have my eyes, my freckles?  Would you be shy or bold?  Would you need braces?  Would you go through that awkward tween stage like I did, so unsure of yourself? What would you want to be when you grow up? Because I know you would change the world. 

Dear daughter, I have to let you go now.  I am happy with my boys, and I will surely teach them with all that I am how to love & respect a lady.  And, who knows, maybe someday I will end up with a daughter after all.  I'm already looking forward to it. 

Love,

destined to be a boy mom.

small moments.

When Solomon was a baby, I daydreamed about the day he would be old enough to read books that I found interesting. (no offense, Pat the Bunny)

About six months ago we bought him his first longer storybook, Peter Pan. Mr. P & I took turns reading him sections of it each night before bed. He did enjoy it, but it wasn't as magical as I had imagined. I didn't want to force it, so we took a break and went back to Curious George and Skippy Jon Jones and The Gruffalo.

During our last visit to the library (we go every few weeks to get 10 new books for the boys) I spotted C.S. Lewis' The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe. I decided we would give a longer book another shot. I couldn't wait to snuggle up in Solo's bed with him in the dim light of his bedside lamp, and introduce him to the magic of Narnia. 

HE LOVED IT.

So much that we read it over and over for about a week. He made his lego guys into "Peter the Knight of Narnia" and he made believe that his horses were white unicorns. He asked over and over to see "Mr. Tumnus, the Faun." My heart was so happy watching him get lost in the magic.

A couple days before Valentine's day, Mr. P and I went out to dinner together. I needed to stop at the store before picking up the boys from the sitter's to buy a new iron. We perused the DVD aisle and spotted Disney's version of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Mr. P and I looked at each other... Nah, he's too young, we both decided.

But, as we continued on to pick out an iron, neither of us could get Narnia out of our heads. We went back and put the movie in our cart... a Valentine's gift for Solo, we both justified.

On Saturday morning we ate breakfast in bed as we watched the movie for the first time, all of us wrapped up in blankets on the bed. Solomon was absolutely captivated by the whimsical and magical world of Narnia. Amidst the lack of sleep, sicknesses, temper tantrums, and all of the trials of parenting, sharing these small moments with my kids reminds me that I would do it all again in a heartbeat. 

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion."    "Ooh" said Susan.   "I'd thought he was a man.  Is he quite safe?   I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."  

..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ... "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

just write