Tuesday, March 8, 2011

My Pinball Wizard

On my morning walk today, I had a conversation about play time, the importance of taking time as a family to play, to enjoy each other, away from all the household duties, the laundry, the home improvement projects, the bills, etc.  We get so lost in our routines, that we often stop really seeing one another, or forget what breathes life into our relationship.
I love that even after being married for almost 10 years, when I take the time to really notice, to see my husband, he still takes my breath away, still stops me in my tracks, still fills my heart to the brim with love for him, with gratitude that he is my partner in life.  We went to the park this weekend, played Frisbee with friends, I rode Willis' scooter around the park, the kids practiced riding their bikes, we soaked up a little sunshine. 
Sean had brought Willis' rocket to launch.  It's one of those kind that you can launch and relaunch, where the kids can push the button that send the thing up 1000 ft into the sky (that may be an exaggeration, I'm not the best with distance).  He had the girls invite 3 little boys, who were playing basketball at the park, over to launch the rocket with us. He let each one have a turn.  They ranged in age from 5 - 9.  They were stoked to participate.  Sean was so kind to them, made sure each one had a chance to press the launch button at least once.  As my friend described it with her arms wide open, "Sean just brings you in, folds you into his community."  It's one of my favorite qualities of his, he has a way of making people feel welcome, unarmed.  He's a gentle soul, great with kids, and he knows how to have fun, too.
Fast forward to Saturday night and I am watching him, dressed in some crazy rocker get-up, sporting a mullet and headband (or sweatband?) singing Karaoke, The Who's "Pinball Wizard", with gusto.  My heart felt big and I was smiling from ear to ear.  I love this man.  I laughed with him, danced with him, felt light and happy to call him mine.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011


Sometimes we give good advice that we don't listen to ourselves.  I have a friend that one time I told to just take a breather, to pause, when she was experiencing too much stress and was overcome with anxiety.  She reminds me of this periodically when she is stressed, "I should listen to your advice, just pause." (I actually don't remember saying this to her, but it is something I talk about in yoga.)  We are so often human doings, we forget we are human beings.  We can experience the being part more if we just take a moment to pause every now and then. 
For some reason, the last few days, I have been present in this pause.  It's almost magical when it happens....today, as I witnessed a friend, who felt like her life was unravelling, as I sat with Elsie on the couch, a bowl of goldfish/cheerios/raisins (her current trail of mix) in our lap, reading her a story I used to read to Ruby.  Yesterday, as I listened to a friend share of a frightening experience, tears running down my cheeks, feeling full of compassion and a desire to comfort.  We all have these simple moments in life, where we can get caught up in the doing of what is taking place, our energy gets wrapped up in another's,  or we can pause and soak in what beauty these moments have to offer.  Even in the midst of the suffering we all experience, we all create for ourselves in big and small ways, there is beauty, there is joy, there is something to be grateful for.
I've been on a search for more time for myself, for more breathing room.  I love my children dearly, yet a piece of me wants some independence again.  I want of be able to leave spontaneously, to spend hours unplanned, uncommitted to anything.  The other half of me is thankful every darn day, that I have the privilege of raising these three amazing little beings, that I get to be home with them most of the time, that I get to be at drop offs and pick ups for school, that they don't spend one more minute than necessary in child care.  There is a balance here, that I am seeking to find.  A place where I get time to myself, time to pursue things that make me feel full, that give me the energy to give back to my children.  There is a reason they tell you when flying to put your oxygen mask on first.  You can't help someone else if you can't breathe yourself.  Duh!
It's a journey, isn't it?  There is not one great day when we wake up with the stars aligned and say....aha!  I have arrived.  We might do that, actually, and then life happens and we say...oh boy, I guess I didn't have it all figured out, did I?
So, we take it day by day, juggling what we do, finding those sweet moments of pause, in between the doing, so that we can feel our way back when we stray from simply being.