My Favorite Place

Spending the morning in my favorite place in the whole world. 

Road Trip

So that’s what my view was on this particular evening; I was fully awake to the preciousness of time. And it just so happened that I had the rare treat of being alone in the car with my fourteen and ten-year-old sons. We were heading to Sun Valley, just the three of us. I was taking the curves of a meandering country road with the pace of a leisurely Sunday drive. The sun was setting and we were talking.

In the midst of a discussion on how to pass his driver’s test, my son heard the first three notes of Anna Kendrick’s “Cups” faintly drifting from the speakers.

“Turn it up, Mom. I love this song!” he exclaimed.

And that’s when he started singing without restraint—like he was alone in the car. Like no one else’s opinion mattered. Like he suddenly discovered the liberating freedom that comes with open windows on a warm summer night.

This is what he sang:

“I've got a ticket for a one way train, the one with the prettiest of views. It's got mountains, it's got rivers, it's got sights to give you shivers, but it sure would be prettier with you. 

 When I’m gone

When I’m gone

You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone
You’re gonna miss me by my hair
Gonna miss me everywhere
Oh, you’re sure gonna miss me when I’m gone.”

Maybe it was the way he sang.
Maybe it was the poignancy of the lyrics.
Maybe it was the recollection of my niece Whitney, teaching us how to do the cup song. 

Maybe it was a combination of all the above that suddenly gave me clear vision. With vivid detail, I saw Regret. It was plopped down before me like an old dog wanting a little acknowledgement, a little attention, a little respect. And it wasn’t going anywhere.

With longing eyes, that old dog looked at me, and I could practically hear his persistent line of questioning. “So what are you going to do about me?” asked Regret. “What are you going to do now so I’m not laying at your feet later when your children leave home and you’re wondering where the time went?”

I know I can’t possibly cherish every moment.

I know it’s not realistic to neglect all life responsibilities to soak up their every word and every expression.

I know that telling myself to savor every stage of their childhood is just setting me up for failure.

So what do I do? How do I realistically live life now to avoid the pain of regret later?

And that’s when I looked into the rearview mirror and saw my son's chocolate brown eyes staring back at me. He was still singing at the top of his lungs, but the song was half over. I felt a sudden urgency. “Stop thinking about ‘what if’ and sing! Sing before the song ends!”

There’s a song playing right now, today. And it’s not finished yet; it’s not finished yet. So push aside your hesitations. Sing along so the people you love know that you’re all there and there’s no place else you’d rather be.

And then in about twenty or thirty years, let Regret be someone else’s companion. Because you’ll be looking back on your life with a smile on your face and a song on your lips.

Vulnerable

Markus and I hiked up this canyon last week to the rope swing, while Max was at Coach Oly's hockey camp.

One of my challenges of late is letting go of exhaustion as a status symbol and productivity as self-worth.

Five years ago if I could only look perfect and lead a perfect life, I believed I'd no longer feel inadequate. Pride was tearing me apart. So, like most of us I performed, pleased, and perfected, all the while thinking;

• Why isn't everyone else working harder and living up to my expectations?
• What will people think if I fail or give up?
• When can I stop proving myself?

I understand now living authentically is so much simpler. 

I love with my whole heart and it gives me the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. 

It’s going to bed at night thinking, Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn't change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.

In living a more authentic life, it takes courage to talk about the things that get in the way.

{What gets in your way?}

Standing On My Head

Do you ever wonder how our mind games shut us off from others and take us away from what right lies directly in front of us? I read in a book at work yesterday "As long as I am thinking, I am not fully present." It also said this about the danger of impatience: "It makes no sense to hurry up — and so mess up — what I am doing now in order to get started on what I plan to do next." And not to make comparisons: "There are no 'best ways.' There are only alternatives."

And just to keep us alert, a few fast balls: "What would I discover about the cottonwoods if when I walked to the mailbox I listened to them instead of looked at them? What would I find out about the rain if I didn't run inside? And is it possible that a sunrise would refresh me more than sleep?" The last one is right in sync with many practitioners of prayer who rise at dawn and are energized by their devotions. Sometimes an eagle eye captures something precious: "There were seventy-five people in the lobby and only a seven-year-old girl was finding out what it felt like to sit on the marble floor." That's the spiritual practice of wonder — ever and always refreshing.

Photos at the park today before Max's first Eagles practice tonight.

A Great Place To Be

Anywhere with these little guys is a great place to be. 

To My Son

On Your 18th Birthday

It’s funny the things I remember about becoming a mom. Like the exact hour and minute you came into this world—3:23pm on a Saturday. Or the warm blankets they wrapped me in after I delivered you at the hospital that has since been torn down. And the people that came to visit us in those early days. I’ll never forget the spot on your head that I kissed for the very first time. The spot I’ve kissed every time ever since.

I’ve thought about this day, your eighteenth birthday. It’s strange. I wondered what you’d be like and if I have done an ok job raising you. I imagined how smart you would be and what your voice might sound like. I hoped you’d still remember our days of light sabre battles and movie marathons.

But I never imagined how hard it would be to reach this day. A day that you likely have waited a while for. A time where you feel your independence is no longer in question or disputed. An age that labels you an adult and frees you from the clutches of your controlling and overprotective mother. A day where I’m supposed to let go and pat myself on the back because my work is done, while sending you off into the world. But here’s the thing my son … Motherhood is never done.

And so a few things I share with you today on this very special day, which I hope someday you’ll read again with the same parent feelings that I write this with. And hopefully one day you’ll understand the depths of my love for you.

While you’re frustrated by the lessons I have to teach, know that it’s taken twice the amount of time, heartache, and self-doubt to figure out how to teach it to you when I could have easily been indifferent.

While lately my strong will might seem to limit your choices, know it was this strength that helped me rock you to sleep every night you were sick or afraid or teething.

While some days you question my need to protect you, know that it is this fierce nature that ensured you were never injured and always safe.

While sometimes you may wonder if I think about you when you’re not here, know that it feels like a physical part of my body is missing when my boys are not with me.

While right now you wish I would leave you alone, know that I will always carry you with me in my heart.

When you think about a love in your life, know that it was the first moments of your life when you slept upon my chest that you first learned the meaning of unconditional love.

So many more things that I could say, but for now I’ll leave it at this: Happy birthday my son.

Your birth was the best day of my life, your future is what your dreams are made of. 

Please, don’t hurry to grow-up—just walk.

Love,

Mom

Xo

Kooti - Kooti

Max and Markus are playing a game that Morg discovered a few years ago called Kooti-Kooti. Besides the fact that they are playing together and learning a new game they are also learning more about life. 

{Summer hockey}

{cool!}

My sisters, My friends

{A bluebird of happiness}

My sister Lara gave it to me today, just because...

A Magical Night Under the Stars

Yesterday, my smart niece hit twelve. And this morning after her 12th birthday party last night, I caught a glimpse of my niece that left me gripping the kitchen counter and shaking my head.

{A magical night watching a movie under the stars}

{And paint on tattoos with friends}

Suddenly I saw her: a burst of colorful style bounding into the kitchen—the scent of teenage grooming quickly overpowering the smell of blueberry pancakes her mom and I were making. I saw her nails, cut short and square with vibrant polish, grabbing a berry. She was going out on the patio with her two girlfriends to sit and chat. And there she went. With barely a wave, the door shut, and I was left in silence wondering who was that beautiful girl; she seemed so unfamiliar.

I took my yogurt outside to eat on the patio and listened to her friends talk about "asking boys out". And when I finally found my breath after that, I felt a sudden urgency to soak up my sons in the present. And that’s when it became clear—what I wanted to do with the time that I am given … before I look up from the kitchen counter and my ten-year-old son is sixteen.

Before Max turns 16 and everything changes. 

I want to watch them laugh until tears come to their eyes before I am not both their favorite audience.

I want to look into their sweet eyes and ask, “What are you thinking about?” before I am no longer invited to hear their thoughts, worries, and fears.

Before she asks my opinion about which Henna tattoo to put on...or not.

{My sister Sheri and her magazine worthy spread of sushi and "magic beans" (Edamame)}

{Hanging Chinese lanterns} 

{My sweet little bunnies!}

{Connor has two pet bunnies, Snowball}

{And Snowflake. I'm not sure how he tells them apart!}

This is what my day looked like today. One of my favorite weekends of the summer is the night I take my boys to visit their fun cousins. I find myself wanting to soak up every sight, sound, smell, and taste of the experience. Before they grow up and lose the magic of pet bunnies and watching movies under the stars.