Giving Mondays

I remember the bright sunny days in the beginning of October during a time they call Indian summer.

Before they turned into a soggy, mushy mess, we piled them onto his chest

and she got her wish running like a wild pony with her herd of friends in the sun.

There was one Saturday when all I wanted was to get lost in a field of corn so green and tall.

Then we finished it off with a visit from the best dressed clowny Grandma

who was willing to watch the kids while my man and I went to a concert, a real loud, dance-all-night, rock and roll show.

With all this in mind, as I was ecstatically bee-bopping through the concert venue, I couldn't be more grateful to be out at night with my husband on an actual grown-up date. I remembered this time last year, when the clouds began to rule the sky and November fell into darkness at 4:30 in the afternoon, I felt a distinct Oh Shit feeling.  My friend and I call it "falling down the roller coaster hill." In the last two years that feeling was only the beginning of a deepening depression that lasted for months.  The depression would be so self-absorbing that everyone in my life was affected.

This year, it's not happening. I don't feel it at all. I'm looking forward to more dates with my hubby, the ski season, the holidays, ice skating, and the first snow. I've also been counting. From now until the end of February when the light comes our way again, there's about 16 weeks of dark days and I want to start a practice of giving.  Today was the first of the next sixteen mondays I'm calling #givingmondays.  

It's a promise, an offer I am making to the communities that inspire me during the darker days. Especially at this time of year, my circles of friends and family sustain me and I want us all to thrive. 

Day 1 : I volunteered for an extra commitment to my writing group.

Please play along on Instagram or Facebook!

a conversation that matters

This is the About page at Stigmama.com who "believe in the power of women, especially those who have been touched by mental illness or mental difference, to create change. . . We need the wisdom and support of others to unpack stigma of mental difference in motherhood. How does it impact your life as a mother? How did it impact your mother’s life? Or your grandmother?"

Sometimes the path is bumpy and full of roots, which leads me to be in awe of the stirring honesty of the contributors of Stigmama.  I have read Shannon's beautiful, yet painful poetry  and admire SM's strength in her abundant use of curse words.  Today, I am joining these powerful mothers on the Stigmama blog for their series "Why Do I Write?"  It's mostly pre-published material, but there is a smidgen of new writing too.   

I write to sort out the complexities of being a mom.  As my daughter stands strong before the start of second grade, I wonder how things will change for her as she grows into a women and maybe a mother.  I consider this as I raise my son in a way that honors his sensitive, sweet self forever, therefore honoring the same in the women around him.

If the intense suffering of mothers around me can be combined and conveyed with such talent, so will I strive to do the same.   It feels so much more real this way, making room for more joy to come bounding down the path at us!

they just want their Mama

You will never be this loved again.  So on those days when you are feeling stressed out, touched out, and depleted, just remember that you will never be this loved again.  One day you will long for their affection.  So choose a soft voice, choose gentle hands, choose love. - AK

I love this quote because there are so many days like this.  I just want to push them away and say "No!  Leave me alone!" but it's not long before they return to my lap with all they know, they just want their Mama.  Their touch and smell often shock me back into the moment of how much I will miss them when they are gone.  With both hands, I can usually dive into the demands and pressures of mothering but one winter, I could not.  I continue to dig through this complex experience of mothering through writing.  In my latest article, I mention my dreams for the kind of family I wanted and start to describe what it felt like when I fell apart.

Shadow Selfies: Exploring the Isolation of Mothering 

This month, use abundant sunshine to take selfies with shadows. Say something about your relationships with posture.

1. Using the textures and patterns of your life as a background, strike a pose that expresses you in bold or delicate ways.
2. In 2007, thousands of hidden images were discovered by an unknown female street photographer/nanny. Check out the amazing film Finding Vivian Meier to appreciate endless beautiful images and an engaging story about her life.
3. Try the free frames and effects at befunky or my favorite, the old Polaroid frame at picmonkey.
4. Remember to attempt to copy what you love and give credit to those who’ve inspired you.
5. Hashtag your Instagram photos #parentmapselfies, @parentmap so we see your creative images of parenting! 

who I would find

I arrived in the forest of New Hampshire

and then I noticed there was something different about these woods

so I took a walk down to the dock 

and set an intention to soak it all in

I looked around at each cabin with it's coordinating dock

and wondered which one was mine and who I would find there

I worried I wouldn't fit in or make connections

on the first night, I returned home late after classes and presentations 

to find a spinner-mama-of-four that inspired me with her tales of mothering, 

a talented blogger, a bad-ass photographing Aussie, one of the smartest women 

I've ever met who will hopefully someday be elected to the House of Representatives 

and two great friends (that are also very good at embroidery)  

we promised ourselves we'd go to bed before midnight, but it was rarely before 2 a.m.

each cozy cabin was historic and simple

a working ice box kept our drinks cold 

with ice harvested from the lake in winter, then stored here 

when I wasn't in class, I was on the dock with my knitting, new friends (although one of them was my bestie going back many years), and great conversation 

on the last night. glowing blocks of ice lead the path towards 

a magnificent Art Fair full of gorgeous wares

and then it was over

 like the luna moth that eventually flew away, so did I
looking back, I am left with

 the memory and luxury of endless hours of laughter
with the woman I feel most comfortable sharing my stories
from the past and the present
all of them and more
a very dear friend

 the surprising quirky humor from my sweater twin, Christine

 (who you may remember seeing here as the inspiration for knitting the antler pattern)

the moving poems of Sarah 

that will have me thinking and dreaming of that

  secret diary she found written by Ester Small in 1886

the artwork by Colleen who encouraged me to work harder and more intensely than I have since my early art school days on an altered book project that pushed me into new territory

the delightful wise cracks and one-liners from Liv and Cheryl that continue to make me chuckle

as I sat on our cabin porch awaiting my ride to the airport, 

my last scene at Squam was full of love, friendship, tears

and the deep, calming feeling that a shift had occurred in my life

I had found more amazing, creative and talented women to add to my tribe