Tag: mom life

Pocket full of sunshine

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If dinosaurs roamed the earth millions of years ago,

Who’s to say mermaids don’t live in oceans far below?

When the sun sinks below the hills we know it’ll rise again,

So why’s it crazy to think legs could be replaced with a fin?

Ask me not of the many things one knows but cannot see,

Ask instead what lights the way toward endless possibilities.

Is it the heart that beats to a drum only it knows how to hear?

Or the voice that whispers comfort when you’re full of fear.

Miracles happen every day, everywhere.

You only have to seek to find the magic in the air.

______________

Today we took the Shrimpresses to their first puppet show at Bob Baker Marionette with Oh Joy! It was basically as if a Mom Blogger’s Instagram came to life. Everyone had their kids dressed in the cutest little outfits, and every where you looked there was a colorful setting staged for selfies.

Then there was Zee Shrimpress, hair tangled, shirt from last night, mismatched shorts we just barely convinced her she needed to wear to “see puppets”, and the biggest, most joyful look on her face. She has a way of forcing us to remember that nothing in the world matters more than family.

As she chased kids around roaring like a dinosaur, with her baby sister looking on in admiration, we couldn’t help but be wrapped into her world.

Her world where you can be a dinosaur looking for your next meal (friends), only to turn into a bird and fly away (because Mama gave ya some introvert genes for good measure), then off on your unicorn as a warrior princess to save your baby sister from attacks (said friends who are excited to have found someone smaller than themselves). And that is all under five minutes.

Her world where mermaids, unicorns, dragons, princesses, “octopuses”, whales, cowboys, and of course dinosaurs, all coexist in harmony.

My magical little Shrimpress, please don’t ever lose that sparkle.

xx

Finding center 

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I never wanted to be one of those moms who lost her individual identity to the co-mingled existence of “mom”. A mishmash of desires, callings, fears and dreams – one  richocheting off another faster than my mind had time to process whether they were catapulted from my desire to be a free creative soul or deep, primal need to create the best life for my child.

I didn’t expect to question my friends in secret shame when they said they didn’t want children. While I absolutely don’t judge their decision, an uncontrollable part of me reacts. It tries to voice the indescribable. Tries to explain the undefinable. One part acknowledges how sappy this voice sounds, pleading there’s no way to decide on something your mind can’t yet comprehend. The other part logically acknowledges that this argument has no place, no right and no business being voiced. 

But I’ve become that person. I am that mom. I am a mom. 

I don’t feel like a defined entity the way I did before kids. 20-something, ambitious, type-A, creative, inspiration junkie, and on and on. But a person with a description. Even if that description went on at length. The point was there was a word for every facet of who I felt I was.

I feel like a cosmic ball of energy points held together in a cloud of light and some magnetic force. I feel a white space filled with lights and emotion. I feel this cloud weave within and around the definable entity I used to associate with my identity. 

I feel whole and at the same time shattered into a puzzle that can never be solved.

I float without definition, yet instead of freedom I feel pressure. The pressure from external forces that undoubtedly hold these orbiting balls of energy into a somewhat discernible shape.

There’s no way to fully describe it to satisfaction, so I won’t try.

But at the core I feel centered in a way I never had before. I feel a calm powerful enough to shut out the chaos and hold back the pressure. It’s a center I can find anywhere, any time without struggle. This was never the case before. Before when I was a list of descriptions my center would shift. It would feel questionable at times and be completely missing at others. But now I only have to focus on one thing. It doesn’t magically unravel the tangled web of fears, excitement, anxieties and desires. But it brings me back to peace for as long as I need.

Back to my daughter. She is my core. And thinking of her brings me back to center every time.