Remembering Yourself this Holiday Season

I hear way too much talk about "surviving the holidays" these days. From the financial stress presents put on families to the schedule takeover by holiday parties, people can go a little crazy this time of year.
When I was younger, I would look forward to November and December all year round, waiting for the lights, the carols and the holiday festivities. I had that warm, fuzzy feeling from October 31st to January 1st and I was unstoppable. This girl would spend hours drafting and decorating her Christmas list and I'd fall asleep to the Raffi Christmas album every night. "Douglas Mountain" was my sleepy time jam!

It often seems the Holiday spirit inversely relates to someone's age and I am just not OK with this. That little kid inside of me still exists and she wants to live it up this holiday season. Don't you?
So, how can I do this?
My observations tell me that people lose the holiday spirit when things get too crazy and they have nothing left to give. They've spent all their time, energy and money on everyone else and they are completely tapped out. They're fresh out of patience for [insert annoying family member here] and cannot handle another [insert holiday-themed dessert here].
Does this sound familiar?

A Selfish Proposition

I'm proposing something different this holiday season: a list of ways to be a little more selfish. Now, don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe the holiday season is about giving and thinking of others BUT I believe that can only be done out of a heart that is well cared for itself. When we give on repeat and take no time to replenish ourselves, Ebenezer Scrooge appears. And yes, I believe that's the clinical name for it. Here are three ways you can remember yourself this holiday season:

1. Take scheduled time for gratitude. Literally put it in your planner. Whether it's 5 minute every morning sitting in silence reflecting on all you love or a special two-hour gratitude-focused yoga intensive with yours truly at 3 Bridges Yoga (shameless plug), scheduling a time to sit with your gratitude will do wonders for your perspective. Take the time to dust off and clean those rose-colored glasses of yours.
2. Say "no" to some things. Does it overwhelm you to spend Christmas Day in a car going to see all 84723982 of your relatives? Lay the hammer down and only see a few of them. Does your office holiday party make you feel all sorts of awkward and spent at the end of the night? RSVP no. Don't have time to make cookies for a cookie swap? Then just don't do it. Outsource that sh*t to someone who does it better, like a local bakery (I won't tell if you won't). Spending too much money on gifts? Stop it. Do a Pollyanna swap with your family rather than getting each person a gift and try to tone down the "stuff". If you're able to read this blog, chances are you have too much of it anyway.
3. Take care of your body. Our bodies are our mediators with the world around us. Without them, we can't participate in our own lives. Take the time to care for your body this holiday season. Whether that's with daily exercise or healthy foods, your body needs and deserves it. Then, when events you really love come about, you can participate in all the special parts of it with abandon. Wine, I'm looking at you!

What I'm trying to say is that the holidays are as joy-filled as you make them. If you're feeling more like a Grinch than Buddy the Elf this year, be sure that you're getting what you need. Chances are, you're not. And chances are, if you do, you might notice a whole shift in perspective. 

The Sisterhood of Motherhood

My daughter screams upstairs. I'm making her put on pants...AGAIN. It may be 50 degrees outside but sister does not want pants and she is going to let everyone in a 3 block radius know. I'm downstairs with the nice child, my 20 month-old, who hasn't learned yet how to throw a really good tantrum. I treasure these last meltdown-free months.

This is not a going "my kids are so awful but they're really actually wonderful and I need to treasure every moment" post. It's just not. There are plenty of amazing posts out there but I just didn't feel like writing one today.

This is a post to remind you (to remind ME) that we are not alone in this. That, when your child is screaming, melting down, throwing stuff and overall just being an unrecognizable maniac, you are not alone.


I see you struggle with what to do next. Do you pick the fight? Do you give in? Do you walk away and give space or do you accompany the maniac in the tantrum? I SEE YOU.

I hear you use your most patient tone. I hear you lose it and yell. I hear you bargain, plead and cajole. I hear you whisper words of love and encouragement. I HEAR YOU.

I feel your heart break for your child's pain. Whether it's about something significant (but I really WANTED to see that friend) or something ridiculous (I said I wanted the BLUE underwear!), I feel your frustration and your sadness as you watch your child unravel. I FEEL YOU.

The truth is, we've all been there. Maybe some of our kids are more laid back than others (if this is you, can your kid talk to my kid, please?) but we've all been in the thick of it. We know the moment will pass but that does not take away from the suckiness (yes, I'm really that eloquent today) of it.

Know you are not alone. This motherhood we live in? Yeah, it's a sisterhood. That means that, at any point in time, if we are honest and forthright, we can share and receive affirmation from fellow mothers around us. The mud you might be in now and the mud you may be in later is familiar mud to the Sisterhood. We've been there, we KNOW how sticky it can get.

So reach out. Be honest. If you're in a good space, CELEBRATE IT! If you're struggling, LET THE SISTERHOOD KNOW.

We moms need to stick together. Our job is critical and our cargo is precious.

In the meantime, there is wine. There are bubble baths. There is laughter (these kids are FUNNY so do yourself a favor and laugh at them...and with them, I guess that's nicer, right?).

And there is the Sisterhood.

Let Me Speak to the Mothers of White Children Out There

I am the last person in the world anyone wants to hear from about race. I am super white, super privileged and super afraid of saying the wrong thing or offending anyone.

I thought I was a peacekeeper. I thought I was diplomatic. Nope, I was just chicken-sh*t.

It's freaking scary to talk about race in this country. On one hand, you have people shouting from the rooftops that something has to change while on the other hand you have people who are yelling let's go back to the way things were. I know people from both sides and I love people from both sides. And I don't want to see people get hurt.

But, here's the thing: people are getting hurt. Every. Day. Nope, they're DYING every day. They are dying because we cannot have an honest conversation about race in this country. They are dying because people like me are afraid to ruffle feathers. They are dying because people like me are having a hard time believing that life is not as fair as we want it to be. And they are dying for a host of other reasons that are as complicated as reasons get.

We are having a hard time believing our brothers and sisters of color when they tell us what their lives are like. Maybe we don't want to believe it or maybe we just don't see it for ourselves yet. Either way, we are failing to have faith in our fellow humans when they tell us they are struggling, afraid and oppressed.

Now, let me speak to the mothers of white children out there. Imagine for a moment that you have a son. But imagine your son is black. (Now, we mothers can do this whole "imagining" thing quite well because we dream about our families. We envision what they will look like in 5 years, 10 years. We imagine ourselves with daughters or sons and love them even if they don't exist, even if they were never born. We can do this "imagining" thing.) Imagine that your son just started driving. You're nervous about his ability to maneuver a car and you lecture him on the importance of not texting while driving. Imagine that you also have to tell him that policemen would be will be inherently suspicious of him. Not all of them--but enough that he needs to be aware. Imagine nagging your son to pull his hood down not because you want him to look more presentable (because who doesn't want their teenage son to be more presentable?) but because you don't want people to think he is a threat and shoot him. Imagine trying to explain to your son that people will think he is going to harm them just because of the way he looks. And you know your son. You know he is gentle and kind and brave and smart and witty. But you can't see that stuff, especially not in a first impression. And so you tell your son to be careful because people will assume that he is dangerous. People will look at your baby and be afraid. People will look at your baby, clutch their purses and draw their weapons.

Your baby. Your boy.

And this is where it gets me most of all, my fellow moms. Our babies are our hearts walking outside of our bodies. Whether you are black or white or Mexican or Syrian, our babies are our EVERYTHING. We know this. This is the cherished not-so-secret gift of motherhood. This is the most incredible thing we mothers have in common!

It is also why we should believe our fellow mothers of color when they tell us how afraid they are for their sons. There is a circle of trust that exists among moms when we are at our best. And, let's be real, we are at our best A LOT. We make each other laugh, hold each other up and witness each other's pain all the time.

When a friend miscarries, we hold them in our hearts and bring them flowers.
When a friend is expecting, we throw showers and cook food.
When a friend gives birth, we show up and we clean and sit.
When a fellow mom is waiting for that adoption call, we wait alongside them with baited breath. When someone loses a child, we sit with them and grieve, knowing that life will never be the same.

We are there when it counts and we listen (it's what we do best). We listen and we believe the stories and the struggles of our fellow moms.

And so I ask my fellow mothers of white children to offer the same courtesy to our sisters: mothers of black children.

Let's hold them dear and hear what they have to say about their children: their fears, struggles and worst nightmares. They are hurting, this we know. Now is the time to believe and to have faith in them. To quote Trayvon Martin's mother, "You know a mother's heart."

And we do. We know a mother's heart. We can imagine what mothers of black children's hearts must feel like right now.

For they are mothers, just like us.

You Can't Turn Off The Motherhood

It's a beautiful day in New England and I am outside with my two daughters. Harper, my youngest, splashes in our kiddie pool. She hates the feel of grass on her feet and refuses to take off her shoes so, there she is, stomping her feet and splashing away with her shoes on. Her sister, Charlotte, the complete opposite, hasn't touched a shoe in days. "I want to wear BARE FEET, mama."

Charlotte, after a brief foray into our 1980s kiddie pool, goes inside to change her clothes. Again. She's worn 3 swimsuits, 2 shirts, 1 dress and at least 3 tutus today. Changing is her favorite pastime and, since her sister is outside in the pool and I can't leave her, I'm in no position to put up a fight.

So I hang with the wee one outside while her sister proceeds with her day-long fashion show.

Sister comes out in wool black-and-white polka dot tights and a navy striped long-sleeve shirt. It's 85 degrees.

Jesus, take the wheel.

After an anything-but rational conversation with this threenager, she acquiesces and returns inside for something more appropriate. She comes out in a bathing suit (perfect) with a snack cup filled to the brim of bunny cookies. Which she got from the cupboard after moving the stool, opening a brand new package and pouring its contents into her favorite purple snack cup. I don't even want to know what the kitchen looks like.

Serenity now.

My daughters are hilarious. And crazy. And busy. And fun. And hard and challenging and (what's a nice word for pains in the asses?) spirited. I wouldn't trade them in, I really wouldn't. I am freaking obsessed with them.

But sometimes, I wish I could take a break. A REAL break. Not a "wander around Target while they're with the sitter" break.

Mother's Day was wonderful this year. There were flowers, a new necklace, a coffee date with a friend and, most of all, there was my wonderful family. But I had a moment in the middle of the night (my youngest cried and I had to run down and help her find her pacifier) where I realized there really are no days off in this whole "being a mother" thing.

That's not to say there aren't kid-free vacations in my future (Barcelona, I'm looking at you!) or lazy Sundays when are kids more independent and sleep past 7am.

What I mean is that, there is no off switch. There is no "time out." You can't turn off The Motherhood. 

The Motherhood isn't a job. The Motherhood is a state of being. No, a WAY of being. To turn it off would be a departure from myself. From who I have become and from who my children have made me. The Motherhood is my most significant lens through which I see this world. It's permanent, there's no going back. 

There is no off switch because I will never stop caring that Harper needs help finding her paci at 2am. Or that Charlotte tries to con me into letting her eat bunny cookies for dinner. There is no off switch for the love. There is no turning off The Motherhood. 

I find myself in the throes of The Motherhood when I read the news or when I see other children. From my neighbor's precocious toddler with ice cream all over her face to the image of the Syrian mother carrying her baby in a donated Ergo carrier, my heart cannot stop being a mother. I see these faces and these children and my heart opens up to them, even though they are not mine. 

Because, you can't turn off The Motherhood.   

And it's HARD. I sometimes wish I could care less because it would require less of me. I wouldn't be haunted by stories of hungry babies or abused children. I wouldn't so wholeheartedly believe that there is no such thing as other people's children. It would be so much easier that way. 

Ah, but The Motherhood. It won't let me care less. It won't turn off. It won't go away. 

And you know what? Thank God. Because I don't want to miss any of this. The fashion shows, the middle-of-the-night stirrings, the ice cream faces and even the pain in the world. Because to turn away from some of it is to turn away from it all.

***If you are looking for a way to care for children, consider The Compassion Collective, a new initiative that uses no donation money for overhead, aids Syrian refugees and homeless youth in our country. Started by Cheryl Strayed, Glennon Melton, Rob Bell, Brene Brown and Elizabeth Gilbert, it's the organization I'm choosing to give to in this crazy time. 

It's All True

How can so many things be true at the same time? My brain is having a hard time coping with all of the information it's been receiving. Let me give you a few examples:

My daughter is finally potty-trained (praise be, Hallelujah!).

Beyonce walked the red carpet at the Met Gala... alone.

My 16-month-old's favorite word is "cheese" and she says it every time she sees a phone because she assumes it will be used to take a picture of her.

Donald Trump is the presumptive nominee of the Republican party. 

It's time to plant my early crops in my vegetable garden even though warm weather may never actually arrive.

Jojo Gaines is officially the coolest woman alive. 

Mother's Day is this weekend and OMG I love my mom and need to send her something.

We don't hear even a quarter of what is actually going on in this world on the news.

Just finished a presentation to a group of Beachbody coaches about expanding their reach.

Princess Kate was on the cover of British Vogue and HOW DO I GET A COPY?

My husband is residing our house beginning this summer and the scaffolding he ordered just arrived.

I just heard a piece on NPR about two Syrian families living in refugee camps in Macedonia with their children and I just cannot imagine.

I think Charlotte may be getting ready to give up her afternoon nap. She is over 3, after all.

One of the children from the NPR story sits on her father's lap while he strokes her hair. She just vomited from food poisoning - a soup kitchen's egg sandwich.

Harper is just like her older sister- loves her warm milk after her nap. My sweet 16-month-old sitting with her big sister on the couch makes my heart swell.

One of the father's at the camp in Macedonia traveled with the rest of his family from Syria. The father and their 6-month-old daughter were separated from the rest of the family while being loaded onto boats. Rather than being breastfed, she drinks milk out of a bottle on his lap as he wonders how they will reunite with her mother. 

How can all of these thoughts coexist? How can all these realities coexist? How on earth can there be so much abundance and so much lack? How can there be so much beauty and so much need? So much silliness and so much gravity? 

I have no answers, I offer no wisdom. I'm just here witnessing to the fact that this world of ours is a paradox and we dwell in it. That when we open ourselves up to the extremities, we open ourselves up to the truth. It's all true. All of it.

We exist in paradox. We care about silly little things and huge, world-changing things. We get stuck in the weeds of every day life but also see the landscape of our time. And you know what? It's all true. It's all real. 

And if that makes you feel crazy sometimes, you're not alone. 

Easy One Pan Dinner: Roasted Pork Chops with Brussels Sprouts and Carrot & Sweet Potato Fries

Another super easy dinner that is easy to make COMPLETELY carb free if you want.

Ingredients, Serves 2
2 boneless pork chops, about 1 inch thick (about .5 lb)
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into "fries"
1 sweet potato, cut into "fries"
2 cups Brussels sprouts, peeled, trimmed and halved
Olive oil (I use a sprayer)
Salt & Pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 400 and line baking sheet with tin foil. Spray tin foil with olive oil and layer on carrots, sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts. Spray on a little more olive oil, mixing around to coat. Roast for about 15 minutes. Remove from oven and mix up, turning over well. Create space for pork chops and place pork chops on pan, roasting the whole thing for another 15 minutes, until pork chops are cooked through. SO easy to clean up.

1 red container
2-3 green containers
1 yellow container

Easy Dinner: One Pan Roasted Salmon & Sides

Easiest dinner ever. Cleanest dinner ever, too! And I NEVER feel that way about cooking fish!

Ingredients, serves 2

Salmon fillets, 1/2 lb
Asparagus, enough for two!
Red Potatoes, small or halved
1/2 sweet onion, chopped
Optional seasoning for salmon (I like Chef Paul's Black Fish Magic - available at grocery stores)

Preheat oven to 400. Lay tin foil over top of baking sheet. Using an olive oil sprayer, coat potatoes and onions in oil. Roast for 15-18 minutes. Remove and mix up!
Use your olive oil sprayer to coat the asparagus and the top of the salmon (this is when I add my seasoning, too!). Place both on same baking sheet and place back in oven, cooking it all for another 15-18 minutes.

Serve hot and enjoy!

1 red container
1 yellow container
1 green container