150 Steps...In the Present Moment

"What do you do?" It's what grownups ask each other by way of a greeting because we so often identify ourselves by what we do professionally. "I'm a stay-at-home-mom," I reply. And if I'm meeting someone who is not another SAHM, but instead a member of the "working world" that statement is often met with a blank look or a tepid, "Oh, well, that's nice."  So, then I add, "Oh, and I'm also a writer." At this point the non-SAHM perks up with a, "Oh! Really? What do you write?" Apparently learning about what I write is more interesting than hearing stories about making snacks, wiping butts, and hanging out with my 3.5 year-old daughter. "I write a blog and I'm working on my first novel," and then I add with a laugh, "which is languishing in my laptop." So there it is. I'm a writer. Of sorts. Truth be told I have not worked on my novel in earnest since my daughte

"It's a LOT of togetherness," I often hear myself saying in conversation when I'm talking about my life as a stay-at-home-mom. "A LOT of togetherness." I wouldn't have it any other way. But, man, is it ever a lot of togetherness. Oy. Here's the thing that you aren't supposed to say about being a stay-at-home-mom: Being a stay-at-home-mom is kind of driving me crazy. Don't get me wrong...I LOVE my daughter. I love love love love love her. I love her like I've never loved anybody. It's an intense, crazy, deep love that makes me ache when I look at her. How did I get so lucky to be the mom of this amazing person??? When I see her wicked smile and her dimple. Omigod...the dimple. It's the cutest dimple EVER. And I hear her laugh. Pure joy. It fills me up. I know that I am the luckiest mom on the planet. Bar none. Really. But then she has one of her spectacular meltdowns. Omigod. The meltdowns. Brutal. For both of us. 

"I DON'T WANT YOU!" my three and a half year-old daughter roars, fists clenched at her sides, body rigid, tears and snot coating her face. "I DON'T WANT YOU!" she roars again mid-meltdown then jumps up and down screaming at the top of her lungs. I hardly recognize this enraged little person. 95% of the time my kid is joyful, happy, hilarious, and extremely kind. But that other 5% of the time. Meltdowns.  Spectacular, epic, blow-the-roof-off meltdowns. Filled with rage.  In the midst of these spectacular epic meltdowns my normally super affectionate, loving, huggy girl directs all of her rage at me.  "What can I do for you?" I ask her in my calmest voice. "What can I do for you?" "NOTHING! GET AWAY FROM ME!" she shrieks, body still rigid, fists still clenched and eyes now closed as if the very sight of me is just too much to bear. She rejects my attempts to comfort her. She rejects me with every fiber of her

"There is a cat," says my 3.5 year-old daughter. We are sitting at a table in our local library and she is "reading" to me from a  Rainbow Fairy  chapter book. Whenever we come to the children's section of the library she immediately secures the lone red plastic wagon with the blue handle (there are also two blue wagons with yellow handles, but apparently these are less desirable than the red) and rushes to the chapter book spinners to peruse and select her books. Recently she announces that she will only select the  Rainbow Fairy  books with the PINK covers. Conveniently there are dozens and dozens of Rainbow Fairy books with pink covers. Once her wagon is loaded to almost overflowing, Esme comes to me to "check out" her books. This involves me sitting with an old computer keyboard in my lap "scanning" each book - passing it over the keyboard while saying, "Beeeeeep." I scan them. She puts them back in the wagon. Today Esme

Do y'all have a list of "nevers" in your head? You know the list...that slightly self-righteous all-knowing "Well, I'll never do this" or "I'll never do that" list. "I'll never date a bad boy. "I'll never lie to my parents."  "I'll never take the easy route." "I'll never get married." "I'll never have kids." "I'll never get fat." "I'll never stay in a bad marriage."  "I'll never get divorced."  "I'll never take a job that I don't feel passionate about." Etc. Etc. Etc. I didn't know that I had a "never" list when my husband and I set out to become parents some five odd years ago. In the front of my brain I just assumed I'd become a mom and it would be all rainbows and unicorns and sweetness and light. OK, well maybe no rainbows and unicorns, but I thought it would be awesome. And it is.

An interesting incident from January 2012 when I was still a new mom... We are in line at the grocery store, my five month-old daughter sound asleep in her baby carrier on the cart and me watching the woman in front of us unloading her cart's contents onto the belt.  The woman is blonde, blue-eyed, petite, and pretty. The little boy standing next to her - probably five years-old or so - has to be her son because he looks exactly like her. He is adorable. I can't help staring at him. The little boy notices me gazing at him so I give him what I hope is my best "I really like little kids" smile. Thankfully he smiles back. Then he notices the baby carrier sitting on my cart and makes his way over to me. "Can I see the baby?" he asks me in a raspy voice. "Sure, Buddy," I say and move aside. Grasping the cart handle he hoists himself up for a good look. Apparently this is a kid who really likes babies because he gets a goofy big smile on his fa