Kitchie Coo

I love being a mom.  I love waking up and seeing my daughters and holding their still sleep-warmed bodies in my arms.  They are getting to the age where I look forward to our days together and what adventures might await us. When they were babies it was harder to approach the day with any thoughts other than schedules, meals, naps. Now we can color, play play-doh, walk (skip! run!) to the park, pick flowers (dandelions) in the yard, eat ice cream, snuggle and watch movies together on a rainy day, etc etc.  These days together are becoming more fun and less work.  I say that rather loosely, because they are still a lot of work, but now there's less drudgery during the day and more happy moments. In a few words...we are settling in.  We are settling into our family, finding a rhythm.  A beautiful rhythm I love.

I mean, how can you not adore a day spent with these two?




Life is good.  I spend most days home with the girls, but have my job at the bakery a few mornings a week to give me some adult time and do something I adore.  Still...I need some me time.  I have been finding less and less time to connect with me lately.  I found myself looking in the mirror the other day and thinking, "I look like your typical middle-aged mom.  I feel identityless...I look and feel like every other sleep-deprived, haggard, slightly overweight, unkempt mother out there.  And how, how did I become that woman?"  I didn't like the way I looked, the way I felt, the way I was a little perplexed about who this person was staring back at me in the mirror.  This was not an overnight change, this is something that's been in the works for the past few years, and that has slowly crept up on me.  I was suddenly staring at a person I don't really want to be.  Huh.

So, here we are at Mother's Day.  Mace asked what I'd like to do for the "big day", and the only thing I could think of was: be all alone by myself.  That would be the most beautiful gift in the world.  I couldn't say the words though. They felt selfish and wrong.  Except, that I never ever get to be selfish anymore.  And the more I stewed on this thought, the more I only wanted to be completely alone on Mother's Day.  And so, I finally spoke the words, cringed a little bit and heard from my ever-patient, ever-awesome husband, "Do it!".

And now I'm alone.  I'm drinking a beer and writing (something that's been desperately missing from my life) and soaking up the complete silence surrounding me.  Peace.  And.  Quiet.  This might  have to become a tradition.  It's Mother's Day.  A day for me.  And I'm taking it!

Happy Mother's Day to all my moms and all the moms I love out there.  Hope you're finding yourself in this beautiful day.  XOXO