Transitioning.

I can feel it coming, its not here yet but it will be, sooner than I think. Its hard not to wish away these days with the boys, full of chaos, yelling, stinky feet and sticky hands, but someday it will slow a little, and I will welcome that. It’s hard not to feel the guilt of wishing it away, but honestly, I do.

Someday there will be more hours between the chaos, then where will I be? Who will I be? It feels almost like a failure as a SAHM. That moment when, yup the kids don’t need me 24 hours of the day, so that makes me pretty much useless? This moment of transition is weighing heavily on my mind as I think about my future mixed in with my children’s because the biggest lie of motherhood is that when you become one you have an firm opinion on everything. I don’t. I am still learning, right there along with my kids. In the trenches of life everyday, those glorious, muddy sunlit trenches. Its hard work raising little peoples, while you are still raising yourself. That gray area where you are still figuring things out is where all the doubt creeps in. Its creeping. My mom friends who all retained some of their identity by keeping a part time job, or full time career, whether by choice or necessity, will more than likely make it through this transition easier. I feel like I am at the beginning of college and told I can do whatever, except I am getting older and I at the BEGINING. It’s frightening, what if I make bad choices with my work, my home, I am not just screwing it up for me, but my family. They would be the collateral damage. It’s happened.

Trying to jumpstart my fried brain, carry on a conversation that doesn’t revolve around development stages, to motivate myself with out little voices pushing me on, these things scare me.

I think people get offended when I talk about this, that just raising my kids isn’t enough. It’s not. Sorry. As much as I love my family. I need something to fuel my soul that I do for myself.

Where are you in the journey? How do you fuel your soul? Do you feel yourself growing, right there along with your kids?

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Creating. Myself.

I keep seeing this mom I want to be. This wife. This sense of self. Its overwhelming. Very. Very Overwhelming. How do I see it? Well try this title on.

Artistic-yogi-compassionate-mom-with-a-heart-on-fire-for-her-family-eating-healthy-and-all-blissed-out-in-my-styled-out-life.

Whoa, I just layed that all out there for everyone and whoa, what a tall order.

Here’s the thing, I don’t expect perfection. ( It wasn’t mentioned anywhere up there on that list.) But I do expect to feel fulfilled and living my life to the full potential that I was given to use.

The other thing? I am not finding a lot of support in this. From raising a family in a mostly retired/hermentic neighborhood, to being someone who has a hard time making friends, to just not finding a lot of support in one place online for this journey that I have chosen for myself. So in true family spirit, you figure it out and if its not there, you build it yourself. So I am gonna try. Grow a little wild spirit here in Suburbia, grow some dedication and resiliance. Grow myself. Once a week I am going to post at least one resource that I feel supports this self I am creating. From art, yoga, spiritual, physical and eatable :). Its gonna be fun! You ready?

Waterlilies floating

Prairie Girl…

No matter how far I move from North Dakota, no matter how many pieces of well designed furniture fill my house… somedays I still just want to sit in the middle of a great big field and see NOTHING…. Its nostalgic, and self-indulgent, but I want to.. it was where I would run away to when I was growing up, especially as a teenager, there was a field that I would go to and just sit… and the breeze there is always a breeze…

Anyways doing my annual rereading of My Antonia, I was inspired about what I would want to wear on my aprons and full skirts if I was trucking around a farm, ( can’t you tell I have never lived on a farm?) any way check out my new patterns over on Spoonflower

Plum Creek 1

Plum Creek 2

Plum Creek 3

Plum Creek 4

A little piece of me…

Admittedly over the past few years my self has changed, grown, morphed, with what life has handed us. One small piece of me that i have managed to keep one small piece of self in the main room of our house. In our living room in a white bowl sets my self . All 200+ colors of self. i can pick it up at any moment for anything, grocery lists, monster drawing, pick up sticks. I get to share it myself with my sons in a way i am so priveleged to. On bad days it is simple an undying bouquet of hope and dreams to be.

On being loved…

when a little two year old comes to the gate by the door of his bedroom, when he know he should be sleeping, rouses his mommy off the couch to tuck him back in bed.   Boy goes ” Mommy, they falled, pick them up.”  Mommy sees the two popsicle stick people that she and the little boy made together today and picks them up. She hands them to the little boy saying “Now you have Mommy and A.”  Little boy goes ” Mommy cuddles A.”  It melts the mommys heart that he is playing with two popsicle sticks (technically 5 since we have a whole family and the Iron Giant.) out of the whole room of toys he has, it makes his mom’s heart beat faster that it was him and his mommy clenched tight in his chubby toddler fist. Our family has gone through a lot in the past year, lots of changing, lots of growing and lots of trying to fit everything in. I have gotten stressed and hard on my husband who is my lighthouse, and the kids have subsequently suffered. In a decision of my love for art, making, creating and family. My family won. I packed up my fabric, i packed up my books and I put them away.. for awhile.  I know I could do it all, but I don’t want to, I want to love what I am doing while I am doing it… I love my family. Every crooked toe of them.  Its not gone forever, just scaled back, like a pair of pajama pants for a boy who is to close to wearing floodwater pants to bed.  A little sketch of quickly fading baby legs. Mending one more hole in my husbands favorite work jeans… This family fell a little bit… but we are picking it back up. I am still here…just growing.