in which i discuss my new one win philosophy of life and try video blogging

 "Vlogging," as they say. 

Maybe I will do this again. Or maybe not. 

Are you surviving out there??

I am not sure. Every now and then I am like, oh, look at me, I just made sugar cookies because the kids asked and I said yes and now we are decorating them at 7pm LOOK AT ME I AM A GODDESS. And then I get crabby because the children are too loud. TOO LOUD. So. Who knows how I am doing. 

But, here is my video blogging thing. 

let's talk about self-care

"Make sure to take care of yourself," she said, wrapping her arms around me in an embrace. "Those kids depend on you, gotta fill up the well to give."

I know, I replied, guilt dripping off of me.

I hadn't been taking care of myself. Working nights, kids in bed. Running to various evening activities. Dammit forgot to send a check for school pictures to the pre-school. Checking off items on the to do list. Barely remembering conference calls, let alone their topics. Doctors appointments. Etc. Then the kid's principal calls, you can hear your child crying in the background, a moment of bullying at the playground, you are driving, barely getting home in time for a phone meeting. Can she stay? Does she needs me? Your voice catches. The principal reassures you. You hang up and sob.

Self-care is a topic we all hear about right? The above scenario happens all the time to parents. Young moms, exhausted, trying to see a friend for coffee. "Are you okay? You can't let yourself get so run down! Your baby needs you!" Visiting with relatives over the holidays. The chiding reproach from your family member, "You look tired. Try to get some sleep."

God. Another thing we have to do to be good at life.

So we schedule a massage. Sit and drink coffee until 11am on a quiet Saturday morning. Meet a friend for a glass of wine. Go to bed a half an hour early, even as the milk curdles in the sippy cups in the sink.

Internally though. I am, thinking about the cost of the massage. The hour wasted in the middle of the day that should be spent billing hours. The dishes sitting on the counter while I sip coffee at 11am. The kids who are with a sitter on a Wednesday night, because that is the only time your friend can meet, wondering if the pre-schooler wet his pants again or if the 5th grader got her homework done.

We should be in a thousand places at once doing a thousand things. Lists upon lists. But. I need to recharge, so I can do it all better! That is the internal cry. We try to relax at the massage. We try to not complain about work sitting with the friend. I am relaxing. So I can do better. Be better. Do more. Be more.

Is this self care?

Post-divorce my self-care tended towards a pint of ice cream and Game of Thrones, maybe with an entire bottle of wine (currently up to season 5, you can tell this has been my self-care of choice for awhile).

I would buy myself books. Wander a nice store. Go out to coffee. Try so HARD TO RELAX AND RECHARGE SO I CAN DO IT ALL.

We all get this. Not just divorced moms.

"I've got to get over this cold, otherwise I am never going to make it through this latest round of teething."
"Get some rest. The kids need you."
"You need to get in some therapy, so you can handle all of this."
"Take the afternoon off," your boss says, "I need you at full capacity for the presentation tomorrow."

Missing in all of this.

Us.

You.

Me.

The self part of self care.

I read something to this affect over the weekend. And its truth startled me.

Self-care has somehow become YOU NEED TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SO YOU CAN DO BETTER AT TAKING CARE OF OTHERS. Apologies for the all caps. But. God. Right? This is what it is. This obligation to be in top form. This is why it is so acceptable. We have an obligation to be at full capacity. As women, especially. We tend the children. Clean the house. Go to work. Come home. Dinner on the table. Remember to sign the homework slips. ALL OF IT. So, better take care of yourself so you can DO IT ALL.

GAH. Right? This is why we are okay with it!! This is why we are allowed!!

Damn. Its a hard truth.

But, to say no to something, be it serving on the board of yet another fledgling nonprofit, or helping out with your kids school play, or serving store bought cookies at the church get together, instead of homemade because you forgot and didn't have time. That is lazy. Selfish. Not put together.

I say. It is self-care.

Self-care conversations we have today are missing an essential element. SELF.

We need to stop getting a massage or taking the day off or any of it to "recharge so you can fill up your well and give better to all the others around you," so you can "do it all and more and better."

Start doing it for you.

Because you matter.

Say no to the cookie bake-off fundraiser. Get frozen pizza in the middle of the week. Drink coffee until 11am. Get that massage. Take a walk. Make yourself a nice dinner with a glass of wine.

But, don't do it so you can do more do better do it right make everyone happy.

Do it for you.

Because. YOU matter.

And encourage others to do the same. We are all very very well aware that our families, our children, our jobs, need us in top form. A simple change from "Take care of yourself, your kids need their mama," to "take care of yourself, you need yourself," kind of mindset, even as we talk to one another, can start to shift this. We need to give and seek permission from others to self care, as a society, because we need to take care of ourselves, for ourselves.

And by the by, self-care and self-soothing are different. Sometimes Game of Thrones and ice cream is all I can manage. Self-soothing. Sometimes what I really need is to get to the gym. Or hike the bluff overlooking town. Or check off a couple dreaded tasks on the to do list because it takes one more weight off my shoulders. Or write. Or get my butt to my therapist.

Let's care for ourselves because our Self is a precious precious gift. Not because it helps us to be superhumans once again (or simply make it to bedtime.) But because WE matter.

God. It's so much harder though, isn't it? That shift of motivation. It requires what feels selfish, wrong. But I say we all start a movement, of shifting the conversation, giving each other, society, a new perspective of why this is so essential. Because we, as beings, deserve peace, health, fulfillment, joy. And we can't claim those things in our frantic lives if we are constantly under an obligation to "refilling the well" for others.

Okay, doing for others brings joy. I know this, but, the reasons shift when you are centered in yourself. Giving out of energy and love. Not out of a need to do so.

More thoughts on this to come. But please, can we make this a thing?

Much love on a sunny Saturday morning. Take care of YOU today, friends, for YOU.

farm notes and anxious thoughts

Sometimes, some days, some posts, need poetry by Mary Oliver and lots of pictures of growing things. Kind of my life these days: introspective, grateful, slowly turning around in my mind how to live a life with fulfilled dreams whilst still moving forward in life and still dreaming and still able to get up at 6:15 the day after fall break and pack lunches, find matching socks, do 6yr old hair, and make it to morning school song on time.

It is a conundrum, how us mom's do it. But we do. 

Our farm is a blur of green and mud and fallen guava. Guava jelly seems to be the way to go but canning supplies cost an arm and a leg here so I still havent undertaken the effort. Soon though. 

We have discovered new fruit trees (two more oranges and a starfruit) and planted lots of adventurous things that may or may not work out (pomegranate! moringa!) 

We harvested potatoes a mere 8 weeks after planting and need to plant more. 

Such work though. OY. The callouses on my hand. The constant weed whacking (wacking?? IDK.)

The coffee cherry is ripening. Approximately 1/8th of cherry we inspect appear to be salvageable from the horrible coffee borer beetle that infects our farm. So, do we pick? We decided yes, just recently. Also. Macadamia nuts. Everywhere. I fall asleep at night to wild pigs crunching (SO LOUD) the nuts on our neighbor's hillside across the fence from our bedroom window. SO LOUD.  

The zinnias I planted when we moved in are in full bloom. We should have sunflowers in a few weeks. The mandarin oranges are still green but the crop looks really good so far. I finally got ginger root planted last week and hopefully will get some seeds in the ground soon for cucumbers. MUST MAKE PICKLES. 

Life. 

Meanwhile I taught at our little university last week. A heavy social justice topic - race and the prison system of the US - and I swear it depleted me like running a marathon. I travel to teach in November. Human trafficking and social justice. We are also trying to get together a group here on island to connect people and passions for more impactful advocacy efforts.

Meanwhile, last week at my doctor appointment I mentioned the heart stopping anxiety I have been having. Some nights laying in bed just spiraling about the myriad things that can and might and maybe will go wrong. 

I am realizing my brain does this as my hormones settle back down from baby days, somewhere around a year and a half old. Which is now. 

I don't have time for this though. In the past I hunkered down, scaled back life. But I have four active kids and an organization to run, a farm full of weeds to pull. The doctor suggested meds. I filled the rx but just dont feel ready to go that route yet. You know? I need to run again. I need to take fish oil. Maybe go carb free. Do all the stuff I know to do. 

This is probably why I barely write here lately. What to say? 

I am anxious CONSTANTLY. I have read some good "thought exercise" ideas though to help. This one, on taming the mind monkey, those thoughts that won't let go, how its a trap for your mind. Another, talking about how its easier to deal with if you can separate it out. "That is anxious Sara, not real Sara, having that ridiculous thought. Let her think it, now get on with life." 

You hear me mamas? Do you know this mind monkey?? 

It is exhausting. I am exhausted.

So I post beautiful poetry here, and photos of our farm and all the pretty things we HAVE accomplished, (we have HOT WATER now!) knowing that all the things that feel they MUST be done, will actually happen, eventually, and I go out and weedwhack (weedwack??) and poke at the ginger root, waiting for the sharp green shoot to come up and out of the warm moist earth, one day soon.

this is a CHOCOLATE (Cacao) plant!

this is moringa!

picking coffee cherry, which he calls guava

i rake up this much fallen guava every two days

MANGO

Leaves and Blossoms Along the way:

A poem by Mary Oliver

If you're John Muir you want trees to 
live among. If you're Emily, a garden
will do. 
Try to find the right place for yourself. 
If you can't find it, at least dream of it. 

                                             •

When one is alone and lonely, the body
gladly lingers in the wind or the rain, 
or splashes into the cold river, or
pushes through the ice-crusted snow. 

Anything that touches. 

                                             •

God, or the gods, are invisible, quite
understandable. But holiness is visible, 
entirely. 

                                             •

Some words will never leave God's mouth, 
no matter how hard you listen.  

                                             •

In all the works of Beethoven, you will 
not find a single lie.

                                             •

All important ideas must include the trees,
the mountains, and the rivers. 

                                             •

To understand many things you must reach out 
of your own condition. 

                                             •

For how many years did I wander slowly 
through the forest. What wonder and 
glory I would have missed had I ever been
in a hurry!

                                             •

Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still
it explains nothing. 

                                             •

The point is, you're you, and that's for keeps.

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean -
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down -
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
- Mary Oliver

it happened

Little man's new sandals fit me.

Like. WHAT????

He is sulky, at times, listening to music in his bunk for hours at a time, constructing things on Minecraft that are legit complicated and impressive.

And I am like...

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BABY.

We went out the other night, our favorite date - to the library - JUST US. Its exhilarating there, with just him, amongst the books, we both love books so much, no baby to chase (who's favorite game right now is pulling things off of shelves) Then we picked out a movie. A Harry Potter movie and "Into the Woods," which when he realized was a clever mash up of fairy tales declared it the best movie he has seen in ages.

And he talked, about favorite words, and weird dreams, and what he wants to do when he is a teenager, a college student.

And I loved every minute of it.

And I looked at him, head thrown back laughing, as we drive, and I remember his giggle at 2 years old and I honestly teared up, remembering him then.

And I just. I just can't even.

My little man. Becoming one of my very favorite people.

Such an amazing thing, the mom life.

Who knew??

the end of the yoga pants era

I feel like this blog is going through an identity crisis lately.

Maybe I am too.

Maybe.

But, in any case.

I think I dont know what to write. My real life.

CONFESSION: The other day I put on yoga pants for the first time in weeks.

WHAAAAAAAAAA????

They felt lovely, of course. But, its just not my life these days, the yoga pants life. With little kids under five crawling at you, no real conversation all day beyond why Caillou doesnt have hair and where are my red socks mommy and why cant I drink my grape juice in front of the TV and where is heaven and why is your bellly so squishy.

All of this. Those yoga pants days.

I miss it.

I of course still have little people in my life. Little Green is just turning five this month. And dear baby man. But, boy if it isnt different now. Even outside of the whole kids in school and not homeschooling anymore.

Of course its the new "working mom" thing too ....although GOLLY I hate that phrase. I worked my ASS off when I was a "stay at home mom," who also ran a consulting business and homeschooled and etc etc.. But for real. Can we just change this please?? Can we just be individuals, women,  with little people in our lives? Some who work at mothering and homemaking. Some who run photography businesses. Some who teach. Some who pull all night shifts as an ER nurse.  But all who love and nurture and sweat and cry at this business called motherhood. Like. Seriously. Good grief. We ALL WORK. It is so much work. I am just not doing all the stuff now that I was doing in those early years.

Because I can't. Because I needed to find and embrace this other part of me.

Maybe that is why I dont write here about it all. Because I am afraid that people will say, oh, she just is too selfish to homeschool anymore.

I know. Because I have looked at moms and judged too.

And now here I am. Trying on this new life. Figuring it out, baby in tow of course but, yes very very different.

The last two weeks I taught a group of pastors and NGO leaders from Central Africa. We discussed transformation inside and out for their country. I brought baby with me, nursed during breaks, held him as he napped in the Ergo while I taught, passed him off to whoever was willing when he was awake and chatty, then ran to get Little Green at the school on campus, up to the cafeteria for lunch followed by meetings, connecting with my intern, then big kids home from school, shove some laundry in and find something for dinner, then emails and skype calls in the late evening as kids get in and out of the shower while baby scooches around on the floor.

No bread baking. No wool crafting. No gardening. No sewing. No story telling with handmade figurines carved from raw wood and lovingly painted by yours truly with non toxic paint, polished with local beeswax to a soft sheen. (OH MY GOSH. YES. I DID THAT. HAHAHA)

Instead I am planning projects with people like Dee. Who grew up on the streets of her Central African country. Sold corn from her adopted families field, where she was treated like a slave, so she could raise fees to go to school, even though school is constitutionally guaranteed as "free" and now she raising funds to build classrooms for the twenty street kids she has taken in so she can give them a quality education and a chance at a fulfilling life. We are planning all kinds of advocacy projects. I hope to go to her country this fall to start in on some of them.

Did I mention she is 29???

So yes.

Different.

Good. But so different.

I see moms hanging out on campus in yoga pants (all amazingly fit moms who apparently wear yoga pants to actually work out) and they have their little guys in tow. A toddler. A baby. And they are planning their days out in Target trips and playdates.

And I miss those years.

But I am also realizing that I am beyond them. I have done those years. Kicked ass at those years, frankly. Also learned. And grown so much. But it isnt where I am anymore. I have a ten year old now. Who has increasingly complex needs. My mommying life is moving beyond the yoga pants years.

And that I need to be true to myself too.  To be here for them but also show them, hey look, mommy has dreams, here she is working hard at them to make them real.

But I want both really. An integrated life. A little farm where I paint and garden and host family in our guest yurt and make wool felted toys and feed the goats (I totally want baby to have a goat who pulls a little cart...HOW AWESOME, RIGHT??) and sit at a desk on the lanai where I write at my books. I am itching to write lately. And projects. Trips overseas. Where I teach and help amazing people like Dee accomplish their dreams.

All of it.

Here is to the dream!

And I dont know how to be inauthentic in these pages. So. If you are up for it I'll start to write more authentically. Because there is much that June is seeing and doing and thinking about these days. Just maybe, a little bit, well, different.

Heading out to a work meeting

 Meeting baby...

 Yep. Me holding baby whilst teaching. HAHAHA

Taking the kids to a meeting when they were off school from a hurricane

 We log a lot of Ergo time

A Kona sunset

On our commute down the hill to campus

The inspiring Dee.

TEN

TEN.

Ten years of this guy.

Ten years of sleepless nights.

Ten years of relentless love.

Ten years of amazing firsts, mine and his. First giggle. First pouty lip. First scraped forehead. First hour away from mama.

Ten years of worrying.

Ten years of antics. Robot man with buckets on his head. Dancing the gaga dance. Greeting everyone with "hellobabahowyoudoing?" Wearing a clip on tie and superhero cape to the grocery store. Charming the socks off of everyone.

Ten years of thinking outside myself, letting a piece of my heart climb to the top of the jungle gym, scooter down the steep hill, go off to school, run and play with other kids who may or may not be kind.

Ten years of tears, mine and his. Why don't they like me? Why can't I stay with you forever?

Ten years of squint-eyed laughter. Eyes crinkled up, twinkling in delight.

Ten years of doing anything to make that little face light up.

Ten years of impossible questions. What is death. Where is it. Why am I here. Who am I. And on and on until drifting off into sleep, mind swirling with all the unknowns of life.

Ten years of managing expectations, ten years of learning patience, ten years of setting the day up for success, ten years of What will he like best, ten years of learning to think of someone else before myself, ten years of joy and grief and frustrating heartache, and more joy.

Ten years of life.

Ten years of motherhood.

Thank you, my little man.