It has made me think. Is my son safe at school? Are we safe anywhere? The mall, schools, the theatre. I truly don’t know. I know my hope and trust is in God and I just move forward the best that I can.

I’ve read many blogs posts about the shooting. I know it’s made us all think. It’s made us hug our loved ones a little harder, a little longer. Maybe it’s made us reconcile with someone we cast aside. Or maybe it’s caused us to think about what’s truly important. This is just my 2 cents, but here is where I’m at.

I titled this “I don’t have time to _____.” Fill in the blank. What are you always saying you don’t have time to do? I’m a Mom and my life is busy. It’s not jam packed with important things every second of the day. I only have one child. I’m less busy than Moms of 2+. However, I still say I don’t have time ALL THE TIME.  Ha.

I don’t have time to workout. I don’t have time to cook. I don’t have time to play with you. I don’t have time for date nights. I don’t have time to go skiing.

I could list 100 things I feel like I “don’t have time” for. But this has hit me like a tidal wave. It’s not ok anymore to use this excuse. I do have time. I do have time to play with my son. I do have time to take care of myself. I do have time to make and take someone dinner. I do have time to listen to a friend in need or visit the sick.

Every moment is a choice. And I DO have the time.

You know who doesn’t have time? Our friend who died in an avalanche this past February skiing on the mountain he loved with his best friends. His time is done. He doesn’t have time to have kids or get married. The Christmas before he died, he had invited my husband and I to come stay at his house in Leavenworth for a few days. Hang out, ski, eat, have fun. And you know what? We didn’t go. We didn’t “have the time.”

And my friend that died unexpectedly from breast cancer the doctors told her was all gone. She doesn’t have the time. She doesn’t get the time to watch her grandkids play or see new ones born. Or continue her lifetime legacy of helping inmates avoid going back to jail and make a new life for themselves.

And the sweet Mom from my church who died from a drug overdose and left a 15 year old boy here.

Then there are the 26 beautiful souls that left this world last Friday. Oh God, I can’t fathom to think of the 20 children and the lives they could have lived.  Or the teachers?

I don’t know why I’ve lost people close to me this year. I don’t know why those kids had to die. I don’t know why some people die tragically and other’s lead a full long life. But I do believe when things like this happen, it’s good to take a step back and look at our perspective. Am I on the path I should be on?

What am I putting off? What am I waiting for? What am I avoiding?

Life happens NOW. My life is happening today and all I have is this moment. What am I choosing?

I know I waste time. I know I make some bad choices. I know I put things off. I make excuses. I tell friends I am busy. I don’t play with my son because I want to finish a book. We don’t go camping because I didn’t take the time to plan it. Or we didn’t go kick the ball around at the park because I’m tired.

I know I’m never going to be perfect. I’m never going to make the right choices 100% of the time. But I do commit from this day forward and in 2013 that I will strive for fewer excuses. I will strive to seize more opportunities.

I will make the time to be, do and see what’s important to me and my family.

And you know what? Some of you need to get up off your ass and start living. Get wild and live your purpose. Make a difference. Jump in and make some waves. Do what your heart has always been yearning to do. Tell your insecurities and doubts to shut up and go live your life. Be bold, be courageous. Be heard.

There is such love in the world we hear.
but the best love is that one I have so near,
because it is the love I have for you,
and it makes me giggle, honeydew.
For you are the fruit that makes my life sweet.
I love your face, your hands, and your feet.
I have a taste for your music, more and more.
One thing you are not, and that is a bore.
This is very silly for the mid-afternoon,
It just may arrive very inopportune. . .
But…I washed the dessert spoon for the racoon,
And he said the swoon tune was for the baboon,
and he didn’t live here anymore.
So it’s back to the computer to write and write.
I’ll write until the end of the night.
But it wont be right until the sight of my light goes out for the night.
Then I can go to bed.
Did you hear that Oop got the croup?
I gave him some goop so he wouldn’t whoop,
And he sat on the stoop in a loop with his age-group.
Whoops, alley-oop, I cannot recoup.
I’d better go  regroup before I droop.
This is not funny when I pause for so long.
It comes out better faster even when it’s wrong.
Go back to your song. Pick up the prong.
I’ve sworn off those petroleum ding-dongs.
The puny Zuni went looney at the sight of the moon.
I’ll quit typing this silly verse for this afternoon.

The Boat in the coat came by the house again today.
He left a note that he wrote to you.
He parked at the dock, set his tick-tock clock, and came inside to straighten my house.
He wanted to know where my mother was,
I asked him why and he said because.
I hated thing one and thing two and I told him so.
He said if I didn’t like him that he would go.
I said good but eat before you leave.
He had something else up his sleeve.
But you wont know until you ask me for part two of this.
For I’d never have fun that you would miss.
but I did have fun with the boat in the coat.
It was a very warm coat.
There he goes, with a very large wake.
Now all I have to do is bake the cake.
It’s for tomorrow afternoon you see.
For on that day he brings the monkey.
It’s a great thing he does, going from dock to dock.
He’s checking that everyone home alone has a clock.
But he eats well, that boat in a coat.
And he leaves a wake instead of a note.

OUch. I think I could take over for Dr. Seuss very easily.
The computer will fit in very nicely  if I use it a little bit.
The keyboard wont have babies unless it’s a motherboard.
Then they’ll be called babie-boards.
This needs work I know, but the idea is rare and I took the dare.
Well, I send this now so you get it. I could write on it all night.
Dont forget that galloping crow who hopped out to the lump in the road to eat.

How are you. don’t give up don’t ever give up.
You are the light of the world.
A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.
You shine. Shine on, baby.

This is so cool, I will surely keep writing seusslike . . .bye.

It’s a term I’ve only recently heard but it’s meaning is something I’m oh so familiar with. So why has our city become so cold?

“The city often ranks pretty high on those lists of the best places to move to – There’s the food, the water, the mountains, the music. But once people get here, they find it’s pretty tough to make friends.” 

Pretty tough to make friends? I’d say that’s an understatement. How about “next to impossible” to make friends? I love what these guys are doing. There’s a Meetup group for Seattle Anti-Freezers. Love it!!

Here’s 5 theories behind Seattle’s chilly networking reputation.  I feel like I’ve had this exact exchange they wrote about in the article.

Seattleite: ”So, what are you up to this weekend?”
New Arrival: ”I don’t have any plans yet. I just moved to Seattle and don’t really know anybody.”
Seattleite: ”Well, have a nice weekend, then!”

Can anyone relate to this or is it just me? I know it’s not just me. I was talking with a friend about this last week and it’s REAL folks. I first noticed it when I moved to Seattle from a suburb. I had just gotten married, moved to a new neighborhood, and started a new job.

At first, I thought it was because I was “new” to the neighborhood. After all, how do you meet other couples? It’s not like we go bar-hopping. And you don’t just go to the mall with your SO and casually strike up a conversation with another couple in the shoe department. Awkward!!

I met a few new friends through other friends, but I did start to notice a bit of a “standoffishness” about people here. (Is that a word?) I had always liked smiling at people that passed me on the sidewalk. Nope, not happening here. Or striking up random conversations with someone at the grocery store. Nope, not here.

Then I had a baby. OH DEAR. And I felt it become exponentially worse. When you enter Motherhood for the first time, you enter the trenches. It might possibly be the hardest year of your life. You might feel alone like you never have before. We go through what I call, The Second Birth.

I thought for sure I’d meet a bunch of other Mamas at Mom’s groups, birthing class, and various support groups. And I did…meet them. But more often that not, that’s all that took place. The meeting part.

Ugh. Why was this hard? I felt like I was immersed in the dating scene all over again. Only this time, I was more self conscious, more timid, and more scared than ever.

I’m here trying to figure all this Mothering stuff out like finding my new normal, struggling with outrageous expectations of self and questioning every single decision I make over and over again. Or how about all the guilt? And on top of all of that, I’m feeling like I have to audition to make a new friend.

Forget it. I’ll just stay at home. Be a recluse. Not talk to anyone. Call my mom 5 times a day instead. Start a blog and put my random thoughts out to the universe. And now I’ve become part of the freeze.

It’s hard. I know I’m as equally responsible as anyone else. My friend and I talked about this too. Where does our responsibility end and other’s begin? All we can do is our part. Be outgoing. Offer friendship. Give our phone number. Ask for theirs. Make a playdate. And CALL THEM FIRST.

My opinion is that the Seattle Freeze is real. It’s not in my head or yours. How much can we control? How can we adapt? What do we need to change?

Honestly, I don’t know that it matters much what the REASON is why we are this way. It matters that we care to do something about it. Do we want to be connected to other people in an authentic way? Then we have to be open and vulnerable and let people in. Then maybe we just may see some ice melt.

I have always been in love with my hair.

The pretty hair.

It’s my favorite part of my body and I’ve always taken good care of it. You name it, I’ve done it to my hair. And I started messing with it when I was 12. Mostly, at 12, I just started straightening it or curling it every day. Yup. And back then, we didn’t have the super ninja straighteners. I straightened it with a curling iron and it probably took me 2 hours. Whew. I’ve spent a lot of my life straightening my hair. Scary.

Anyway, before I became a Mom, I VOWED and swore up and down that I would NEVER ever ever become that Mom that “let herself go” after having kids. Yup. I’ve seen the same Oprah shows you have. The phenomenal makeovers of the lazy, tired and frumpy Moms. Yikes. Those ladies scared me….and that’s embarrassing to admit, but true. (I’m talking this was when I was 20 and immature that I thought this, kay?)

As I got older and closer to having kids, I still promised to never be the Mom that let herself go. See, I thought it all meant something.

“Well, if she stops doing her hair, then that means she doesn’t value herself anymore.”

“If she doesn’t make the time to put on some makeup, then she’s showing that she doesn’t care anymore.” Blah blah blah. Yeah, ok so I’ve had some shameful thoughts and made some major judgements about people I don’t even know. I’m the only one that does that right? Uh huh.

So I got pregnant and had a child. Traumatic childbirth, horrible postpartum recovery, PTSD, depression….you know, the trenches of Motherhood. I went there. And kinda forgot about my stupid hair. That happens. It’s called a baby.

Over the last few years, I made time to straighten my hair or go get it colored, but it did become less important to me. You know what I was thinking though….when my son was a year or so, I started to think, “Ok woman, get it together. Put some makeup on and do your hair. And not just in a ponytail this time.”

I did. I tried so hard to do it. I only straightened my hair a few times every couple months. Sure, it felt and looked great. I always feel glamorous with my hair down. But…it. took. so. much. darn. time. Time I didn’t have anymore.

Sure, I’d love to look fabulous every single second of every day. To be honest, I’m the only one that cares. My husband loves me no matter what. And that super cute baby sure doesn’t mind.

My self-talk & emotions were running me ragged.

“Rebecca, you are letting yourself go. You’ve been wearing your hair in a ponytail 28 days out of every month.” haha. I didn’t keep track. I’m exaggerating to be funny, but I did have a hard time with it. “You’re gonna wear those workout pants again too?”

Come on!!!! Shut up, stupid self talk. Motherhood is tough. It’s in fact, the toughest thing I’ve ever done. I’m giving it all I have every day and who cares I’m wearing my hair back in a ponytail or wearing my super comfy pants again?

Have you ever heard of Fact versus Meaning? Whew. This changed my life.

Fact - I wear my hair back a lot in a ponytail.

Meaning – My hair is in a ponytail.

Does NOT mean – I don’t care. I am lazy. I don’t value myself. 

I know. Profound huh? No, it’s not. It’s super simple.

I’m tired of beating myself up over things. Things that don’t mean anything. Or at least they don’t unless I apply a meaning to them. But that’s in MY POWER. That’s MY CHOICE. It’s so important to be aware of what meanings we are applying to things. It may be small or it may even be big, it doesn’t matter.

As soon as we tell ourself it means something, we make it part of our identity.

My loyal ponytail

My son is 3.5 now and I wear my hair back in a ponytail a lot. I like it and it means nothing. (see? I’m free now!) It stays out of my face. It’s easy and quick. It stays healthier because I use less products and less heat. I do make it pretty once in a while, when I have the time or feel like it. My husband likes it down and pretty so I will do it for him.

And it means nothing. Yup, nada. Took me almost 4 years to figure it all out. That makes me kinda laugh because there are so many more complex problems in life to be dealing with. Truth is, even little things matter and if not addressed, they can become bigger things.

Like I said at the beginning, it wasn’t really about my hair. It was about what I was telling myself about my hair. Alright…now on to those bigger and badder problems.

I’ve read books, magazines, blogs and studied my organized friends. (don’t tell them that, though!) All to find the answers. How can I get a hold on my clutter issue? How can I set up my house to flow better? And why do I create clutter?

I can’t organize a closet to save my life. Organize to me is go find a closet shelving unit. Put said items on said shelf. And VOILA! I’m organized. The shelving system organizes FOR me. Right? Ummm….so so so wrong. *Sigh*

Now what? I have some major issues I’m facing in my house. Thirty pairs of shoes at 2 separate entrances in a mess on the stairs. Coats thrown on the same stairs. Backpacks. Scarves. Closets that are catch-alls. Where do I even begin? And it’s such a daunting task because I don’t even know how to get started. Or how to fix it.

Everything I’ve learned in my life has taught me that you can’t fix the symptoms. It’s a core issue somewhere inside. Fix that. Change that and the outside will change…or so I thought.

Here I am analyzing and analyzing years later….what is it about me, the way I think or process life, that leads me to create clutter? Not just create it, but hate dealing with it. And then kick and scream to clean it up.

A couple of weeks ago, I came to ask myself this question. How do I know when to accept something about myself as it’s “the way that I am” versus keep trying to change and become better at something? (meaning becoming organized)

My husband and I had a big talk about this question. And he made some good points, because he always does. Smart guy. He knows me so well. Here’s what he said. He thought I was confusing “WHO I am” with “WHAT I do”. Of course!!! That’s it.

But now what? I still have no place for my shoes.

Please welcome my dear friend, Amelia…

It’s important to know when you can’t do something on your own and when to ask for help. Normally I have no problem asking for help. For some reason, I had a hard time accepting my friend’s help. She had offered to come over and talk about my house “flow”, whatever that meant. I had no idea. I thought you just went to Ikea or Storables or Pottery Barn, bought said “organizing system” and then you were done.

So wrong.

Amelia came over last week and we talked and talked and talked. After analyzing my flow, she had some awesome suggestions. I was afraid working with a professional organizer would be more like, “this is what you should do, this is how you should do it.”

She said none of that. It was more of a conversation about what types of organizing would help our flow “flow better”. Make sense? For example, we need 2 separate stations for taking off shoes and coats. My husband enters through the front door and strips there. (haha, strips!) And I come in through the garage and strip on the back stairs. This whole paragraph is making me smile.

After planning our 2 stations, we measured, researched good hardware that fit my style, and away we shopped.  I was able to get the front area put together pretty quickly, but I had to plan a bit more for the back area. I still haven’t gotten it all up on the wall.

Here’s a look at the results.

BEFORE

AND…

AFTER

I know this isn’t anything spectacular. Just some simple changes, but let me tell you, it has helped TREMENDOUSLY. I feel more clarity in my mind.

Next up is finishing the back station. And I’m also working on my command center. Love calling it that. She says every house needs a command center. For me, it’s currently my kitchen counter which I’m sure a lot of you can relate to. I’ll post those results as I finish them.

Happy organizing. Do you think there is a connection from what’s inside to what we create on the outside?

*If you want my friend’s contact info, please leave your email in the comments section and I will pass it on to her.

Although I’ve known my entire life that becoming the Perfect Woman was not attainable, I must admit I sought after it anyway. After all, I was looking for and expecting the Perfect Man to show up. And I wasn’t planning on marrying anything less than that!! You might think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not…not even a bit.

Eventually I did concede that indeed, yes, I was anything but perfect. And I also conceded that there was no such thing as the Perfect Man. I adjusted my expectations and after I did that, BAM! I found an amazing guy and got married.

We are anything but perfect. And here’s the deal. No one is. SHOCKER, I know.

Here’s the battle though. This is what’s truly scary. People (me included) have the PERCEPTION that perfection exists. We know in our head that it does not exist, but things around us are always trying to fool us.

We get caught up in what we see, what we hear, what we feel. Other people’s opinions, thoughts, and THEIR perceptions influence us because of our insecurities, our lack of security or self confidence.

Here’s some of my self-talk.

“I am not organized. I never feel like I have it ‘together’. That Mom is so put together. She always looks great. She makes everything look easy. She never complains or has any problems. Why can’t I be more like that? What’s wrong with me?”

Ok, it’s a bit embarrassing and humbling to admit that I’ve thought this but it’s true. THIS needs to be said. NOTHING IS WRONG WITH YOU! Or me.

I promise you this. That “perfect mom” is not so perfect. Maybe she won’t admit it. Maybe she is not honest about her problems, but good about covering them up. Who knows? Maybe she is hurting but doesn’t feel safe enough to show it. Maybe she cries herself to sleep at night after everyone has gone to bed because it’s the only time she can be real.

Everyone has problems. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. Some are just more apparent than others.

The Perfect Mom problem is so bad. I’ve struggled with the comparison game and I know others have too. We need to stop it. Motherhood is tough enough. We have enough challenges to deal with. We don’t need to dissect each other and compete.

And you need to stop worrying about that Perfect Mom you think you see at your Moms group or the playground. She is so not who you think she is. It’s a perception, not reality. Stop judging her and stop judging yourself. We end up comparing ourselves to a false reality and then sometimes take it further….TO MEAN SOMETHING about ourselves. That’s the worst. ENOUGH!!! Do you hear me?

Even if you are not organized, it means nothing. So you can’t cook. It means nothing. You can’t get to class on time. You forget stuff. Oh well. Say it now. “Oh well”.

Hear me. What you DO is NOT WHO YOU ARE. These are two separate things kay??? 

I’m a work in progress. My self-talk is a work in progress. I guarantee you this. People want us to be authentic NOT perfect. Our friends want us to be real…and honest. Not fake. In fact, I will even venture to say people are STARVING for authenticity in their lives.

My husband will overlook ANY imperfection. Why? Because he values honesty. He values authenticity. THAT is where the gold is. I thank God for him. And you know what? Our kids are learning from US. We can say we are teaching them to be honest, but if we run around trying to look and be perfect all the time, they are learning that too. We aren’t fooling anyone, especially them.

Please hear my heart, and I know it’s your desire too! Drop the act. Drop the judgement on yourself and others. Just be real. Trust me, it’s so much easier and fun than trying to be perfect all the time.

- I’m not gonna let my kid watch any tv what-so-ever until they are 5.
- Not gonna give my kid sugar until they are like 5.
- I’ll never let my kids eat in the car!!!

For some reason, it seemed like I thought I wouldn’t let my kid do ANYTHING until they were at least 5. And then I guess they magically would handle all of those things fine. Ok, so not really.

I did have certain things that were very important to me. Breastfeeding was a big one. I would stay commited to breastfeeding at least until my baby was 1, and hopefully until he was 2. This one seemed pretty easy to do. Other things though….not so easy as I thought.

So I’ve found myself asking this question. How do I reconcile what I wanted to do with what I’ve ACTUALLY done?

My son watched some football with us by the time he was 9 months old. I let him eat in the car as soon as he could hold a teething biscuit. And OMG, he’s had a few cookies and he’s only 2.5.

It sort of sounds ridiculous now that I think about all of it. I’m trying to be sarcastic about it too I guess because then it hurts a little less. But seriously, some of these things I have felt some major guilt over. Oh yeah, and add the whole post-partum weight goals to it all and I want to go drown my guilt out with a bottle of wine. (and I don’t even drink) Ok, maybe 5 lbs of dark chocolate would take the pain away.

We all know that Motherhood is nothing like what we thought it would be. Even if we had a clear picture, it’s still proved to give us the shock of a lifetime. You can’t really know what the trench is like until you’re in it.

There’s this guilt and self-talk of, “well Rebecca, so much for having values and principles. You’re a failure of epic proportions.”

Well yeah, so what? Maybe I didn’t execute my “perfect plan” that I designed when I got pregnant. I didn’t have the perfect birth either. And I don’t have the perfect kid. That doesn’t exist.

Here’s my reconciliation. Yes, I had a plan. I made expectations. I set goals.

Then I changed from Woman into Mother. 

As soon as I became a Mother, life just took over for a while. The weeks dragged on and turned into months. I don’t even remember most of those days. I never stopped to reevaluate my plans, expectations and goals. I just kept going. I kept going the only way I knew how and the only way I could to survive.

One. Day. At. A. Time.

That’s all I could do for a long time. Before I knew it, I was making different choices than I had planned. Oh well. What’s important is that I eventually STOPPED. Looked around me. Had the awareness that things I was doing was not what I actually wanted. And then made some changes.

Instead of looking at your choices through the perspective of Good, Bad, Right, or Wrong, we can look at them as What’s Working, What’s NOT Working, and What’s Next?

When you switch your mindset, it’s really easy to let go of the guilt you place on yourself. Or anger. Or frustration. We get stuck in SHOULD, or WOULD HAVE, or COULD HAVE. All of those thoughts produce feelings of judgement, guilt. anger, resentment, bitterness.

At some point, (I couldn’t tell you when because sometimes it’s all so foggy) I stopped judging myself so harshly. It’s really not that big of a deal. So I gave my kid some sugar. I can change that immediately. So I let him watch tv. I can change that too. He still eats in the car and I’m ok with that.

It might be beneficial for you to do some journaling to reconcile your own expectations. Take some quiet time. Sit down with a pad and paper. Start with self.

Before you had a baby, what expectations did you place on yourself? What kind of a mother did you want to be?

What promises did you make that you would never do? Or would do?

And then journal for a bit on where you are at now. No judgement. Just taking an honest look at what you are doing.

Are there discrepancies? Tell yourself it’s OK if there are. It’s just what is. It’s not good, bad, right or wrong, remember?

Now take a few minutes and reconcile those things. If you are happy where you are at, then great!! If you are not where you want to be, what do you need or want to change?

Write a few goals for yourself to work on. Make them easy and small to start with. Just little adjustments can make a big difference.

GOOD FOR YOU!! That’s it. You did it. And you can sit down, write some thoughts out, and make the changes you want ANYTIME you feel you need an adjustment!! That is what’s so great. You are in control of your life, not anyone else.

It takes courage to be vulnerable even if it’s just to face yourself. But the benefits are always better than the price you pay for being uncomfortable.

Everyone assures you that this won’t be a problem, that love is not finite, that you will immediately have enough love for them both. My grandmother, a mother of seven, was especially reassuring to me in this area.

Just hours before Ruby was born, I rocked my precious 23-month-old baby Quinn to sleep. It was a rough night for her for some reason (ha ha), and despite being nine-months-pregnant and beyond exhausted (and already having contractions, though I didn’t let myself realize it yet), I remember just watching her face, smoothing down her hair, singing to her. Happily. I lllllllooooooooooovvvvveeed her. She was my life.

Then I went to bed with my sweet husband, who I still love quite acutely. But I remember what it used to be like when we spent the whole day together. Absolutely, effortlessly together. When he was my life. Our decade of inseparability is still a powerful thread between us, but these things shift a bit when you rarely get time alone, when you are completely drained by the time you get those moments, when both of your hearts and arms are often otherwise occupied.

We talked for a few hours, cuddled briefly and then I turned to the mountain of pillows that are the constant sleeptime companion of the very pregnant woman, rested my head, and started to drift off to sleep. About 10 minutes later, Ruby slammed down into my pelvis, starting her journey towards us.

Two and a half hours later, Ruby was born. I held her little body to my chest, looked in to her eyes, and studied her sweet little face. “Yes,” I thought. “It’s you.” That same instant recognition, overwhelming delight and effortless love I felt when Quinn was born.

The feeling got a little more complicated a few hours later, when my sister brought Quinn in to meet her new baby sissy. Here was my baby Ruby, who I loved so much, and here was my baby Quinn, who I loved so much, but when did she get so big?? It was honestly a little challenging for my heart to sort itself out. It took at least a few weeks. And it was hard and sad. Sometimes when Quinn was out with my mom at the park or something, I would cry. I missed her so much. Sometimes I missed her when she was right there, because I had to be so focused on Ruby, who I also loved madly and who needed me much, much more. Eventually I learned how to hold them both at once (literally and figuratively!!).

It was sort of like going home for Christmas in those first few years of college. You had this fun college life, your actual life, which you loved. But then you were suddenly back home with all of your family and old friends and suddenly that was your life. I would always cry when I left home, but would feel good again once I got to college. But with two kids it’s like you suddenly have both your old life and your new life and your heart feels torn and twisted and confused. It’s not easy to sort it out, especially with all the added challenges of living with two tiny people who are also trying to sort out their feelings for each other.

Here I am, 14 months later, and I am madly in love with both of my daughters at the same time. I still prefer alone time with each one, but it’s much easier to focus on the two of them together. It’s second nature now and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Their love for each other is also amazing to see, and more than makes up for any limitations I might face.

Having two kids is definitely harder on your marriage, though. I certainly don’t love my husband any less than that first blissful week we spent together giggling, messing around, and wandering the streets of Portland hand in hand. But I don’t have much time to ruminate on my love for him, or to act on it. And we sure don’t get much time to giggle or mess around , though we do get to hold hands occasionally.

You also never get a break with two, and you can’t really give each other a break, because your spouse can’t handle more than one for a long, long time (not that you could really pass off that precious newborn when you already feel like you hardly get any time alone with her). You find yourselves fighting more just because of the constant chaos, and even more spent at the end of the day. But the other side of that coin is the solid conviction that you are a family, that you are actually building something big here. If you just hold sight of each other, cling to the few date nights you get and throw yourself into all the good moments you all get together, you’ll make it through. I’m pretty sure, anyway .

But there is one thing that definitely is finite, and that is patience. No one tells you this before you have two. But believe me, you will be amazed at how quickly your fuse blows. I can honestly say that I never lost my patience with Quinn before Ruby was born. I remember reading parenting books that referenced losing your temper and I thought it was crazy. Not that I was always perfect, but I always had control. I was able to use parenting strategies and stick to my plans on how to deal with certain behaviors.

Now I lose my temper all the time. I usually catch myself within a few seconds and redirect myself, but I get angry at my children in a way I never could have imagined before. At first, you think it’s just because your toddler’s shenanigans are now an actual threat to your precious newborn that your hackles are so raised, like a mama lion protecting her littlest cub. But as time goes by you realize that you just don’t have any more patience than you did before, and that you need a lot more of it when you have two.

These days I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that the kids sometimes see mama angry, as long as they also see mama address her anger and channel it. I also always own up to it. “I’m sorry that mama got so angry, but it is not OK to try to pick your sister up by the head. You could have really hurt her, and I don’t let anyone hurt either of my precious girls.” Or some such. I hear about some mamas who put themselves into time out and I think that’s brilliant, but I can’t ever seem to think of it when I’m seeing red.

You just become so much more reactionary when you have two. All of your plans and goals and priorities can no longer drive your every moment. You are constantly dealing with two very different, very busy and very rule pushing little people. That’s what toddlers need to do and as a mama of two you are sorely outnumbered. But when you look at them both in a good moment, like when Quinn and Ruby put on a show for me yesterday complete with singing and dancing (more like mumbling and shifting for Ruby but it was too darn cute), or when you watch them go lick for lick with a popsicle and you didn’t even have to tell them to share, your heart is fuller than you could have ever dreamed.

A day with no nap is a long day for the parent and for the child. However, in lieu of naps, we are having an hour or so of “quiet time.” This involves E in her room, in her crib, lights off, curtains drawn, noise machine on (all the trappings of sleep, should she feel so inspired). She used to have books, but I think the Seattle Public Library would thank us not to do that anymore, given her propensity for seeing what happens when she tears the pages (many a Franken-book have I guiltily returned to the library; I should seek a second career as a book surgeon). Now she just has her “guys”–a motley crew of animal friends who engage in various adventures with her during this time. She talks to them and sings and basically processes her day; it’s actually pretty entertaining to listen to.

Do I feel funny about sticking her in her room all by herself? No, and here’s why. Kids need space, quiet space, free from a lot of stimulation and distraction, to work on developing an inner life. Here, in this space, they learn to think. They begin to play with and over time master language—and the more words they have the more ideas they can work with and build on. This leads to their developing creativity and a sense of self, the latter of which encompasses things like who they are, what they like, how they learn, and how to process, sort, and react to the barrage of information constantly coming in. And with these things, they learn to trust and value themselves as creators, thinkers, and all-round competent, confident kids. (DeGaetano 2004)

Not a bad yield for a little quiet time.

DeGaetano, G. (2004). Parenting Well in a Media Age. Fawnskin, CA: Personhood Press.

At the end of every class, we would all lie on our backs with eyes closed, soothing music drifting through the room.  The teacher would walk around and chant, “letting go now, letting go now, letting everything go…” for about 5 minutes.  It was an exercise in releasing tension and stress.

Back then this didn’t really resonate too much with me.  I mean, what did I really have that needing letting go?  Ok, maybe that’s not fair. I’m sure I had my share (and a few excess shares) of stress surrounding starting a new job, making my way in a new big city, fretting about applying to medical school.  But from my seat now as mama-wife-doctor (interesting how those came out in that order), those worries seem quite a bit more miniscule.

Despite taking that yoga class about 10 years ago, in my current life I hear that mantra in my head frequently.  No mama will dispute how much you gain when you have a child.  It’s undeniable, unavoidable, all encompassing, amazing, and overwhelming all at the same time.  But just as, in motherhood, my being continually expands with increasing love, patience, wonder, and purpose, at the same time I notice other things slip away.  These things that I’m shedding by the day are assuredly less monumental than what my little guy adds to my life.  But they are there, being tucked away into my life time capsule, perhaps to be opened and reexamined many moons from now.

And sometimes you just need to mourn the loss of these things a little.  Like sleep.  And control.  And carry-on bag only travel.  And being on time.  And going out to dinner after 5 pm.  And having yourself be number 1.  And having time to pursue your (non-family) passions. And wearing non-milk stained bras (or shirts, pants…).

As painful and sigh-inducing as it is to write that list, herein lies the rub:  I wouldn’t in a million years change it back if I could.  And so day by day I continue to molt, letting go of all those parts of my pre-baby life.  It’s rough.  But it’s a whole heck of a lot easier to let it all go when that soft, chubby, dimpled hand is clutching mine.