Mindful Mama

Yesterday, was the official launch of Mindful Mama, a new media and social networking site that I'm incredibly proud to be a part of. (Thanks Deirdre!) For the initial launch, I contributed a handful of articles on everything from Creating a Green Nursery to The School Garden Movement. (P.S. That's Danny Zamudio in the picture!)

What I really love about MM is that it doesn't divide mothers into camps—the breastfeeding vs. bottlefeeding, co-sleeping vs. crib-sleeping camps that so many other magazines and sites and forums do. After going through all of the breastfeeding troubles that I had in the beginning (but, we're still breastfeeding-hooray!), the last thing I want to do is play any sort of role in making another woman feel as badly as I did. I felt completely worthless, and much of the emotions I went through I believe were caused (albeit indirectly) by the push-pull I was feeling from the media. And even from other mothers. I remember trying to do research on what to do, and finding nothing. NOTHING.

I'm so thankful to be a part of an organization, of a group of like-minded women, who want to encourage mamas to do their best. To make educated decisions. And, ultimately to live mindfully.

Check out the site- pass it on to others!

Welcome to a New World

I feel like I should have been handed a pamphlet of information sometime over the past week. "How to Cope with a Child Who Has Learned to Move—Everywhere." Or, "How to Get Anything Done while Chasing Your Child Around,"or, even better, "How to Teach Your Child to Walk without Killing Yourself."

For those of you who I don't speak to on a regular basis, you might have missed the bulletin: Sena didn't crawl. She went straight from lying down to wanting to walk, never really "getting" how you get from lying down to standing (without mama or papa's help). Well, over the last month she's been mastering her moves, and now army crawls throughout the house (yes, still not "crawling") and pulls up on EVERYTHING. Today she tried to pull up on the front door by grabbing the door stopper. She didn't get very far.

It isn't that I don't want her to move, walk, or crawl. It's that I don't want her to fall. I find myself holding my breath every time she takes an adventurous step. Here's a mental picture for you: She has a twinkle in her eye, is full of smiles, and looks oh-so proud; I look like I'm about to lose my lunch, crouched over in a totally unnatural position so that I'm able to swoop in and save her if she's about to tumble. I know, I know. Everyone says I need to "let her fall." But, I can't. We have wood floors. She's my baby. What can I say. So, in the meantime, I'll spend my days following her around the house ready to break her fall. I have a feeling I'll probably be doing this the rest of my life—and eventually she'll tell me to stop. (When she's on her first date, perhaps?!)

On another, more amusing, note.... Sena pooped in the toilet last night. Okay, for all of you that do not have children, feel free to stop reading now. For those of you that do... She's only 13 months old! Last night I was giving her a bath and some, er bubbles began to form in the tub- just behind her cute little tush. After our little "incident" in the bathtub a few weeks back, I was quick to get her out of the tub, but wasn't really sure what to do with her after I got her out. Poor thing was naked, wet, and wanting to poop and I was just dangling her above the water. Anyway, I set her on the toilet thinking, "what the heck." She looked at me, sat there for a few seconds, and then did it!!!!!!

Letter Month 12

Dear Sena,
A year ago, at this time on March 23rd, I was bouncing on a ball in the living room, beginning to feel the pains of contractions. Grandma Sheree & Grandpa Thomas were here. Papa was wondering what to do. And, I was wondering—is this it? Is she on her way?

I can't believe a year has passed. Your birth still is a vivid memory. I can see papa's face as he watched me breathe through contractions. I can see Cash and Kona as they paced the house, wondering why I was up in the middle of the night—and moaning. I remember Carrie, the doula, arriving at 3 a.m. to your father doing laundry and your mother curled up on the bed. I remember when she said my contractions needed to be closer together, and thinking, "she's got to be kidding." I remember driving to the hospital and feeling pains, yet, feeling ecstatic that the next time I got in a car, I'd have you. I remember arriving at the hospital and being so pissed off that they wanted me to fill out paperwork, like I wasn't busy with something. I remember your papa being the strongest man in the world that day. He held my hand, breathed with me, got in the tub, rubbed my back, and never wavered from his encouragement. I remember feeling so very loved and supported. I also remember thinking that I might be in labor the rest of my life.

I remember the glazed look on your papa's eyes as he handed you to me, and feeling that my heart had stopped and started again, only stronger. I remember feeling overwhelmed and totally unprepared as we embarked on this new journey together. Everyone tells you that becoming a mother is the hardest, and most rewarding thing you'll ever do, but no matter how many people tell you, or who it is that tells you this, you don't understand it until you have your child in your arms. Totally vulnerable, totally dependent, and suddenly you get it. I'm mama. This is everything.

As many a mother knows, the days can be long, but the time still flies by. A year ago, you knew us because you knew our voices. Now, you know that we're here for you. You know to reach for us if you feel scared. You know to yell at us if you're mad. You know we'll try our best to fix things. You've brought so much joy to your papa and me. Joy replete with poopy diapers, late nights, bruises, and more. Joy filled with smiles, laughter, and firsts. I know the next year promises to be another year full of steps, words, and personality. I can't wait. Or, maybe I can. If the first year is any indication of how quickly time passes, I'm happy to stop the clock for awhile.

I love you,
love,
mama

A year ago..


And, a year later..

Attitude..

This girl's certainly not afraid of showing her emotions!

Birthday Bash

On Saturday, we threw Sena her first birthday party, replete with margaritas and posole. Wait, that was for us. The kiddos had cheerios, veggie booty, apple juice, and carrot cake cupcakes. Sena seemed to enjoy the party even though she'd been awake since 10 a.m. (long story). Her father and I were utterly exhausted after the party, and can't imagine that each birthday from here on out will probably just get more complicated—I mean exciting! We had a great time, and feel so grateful and thankful for all of our friends and family.

Late posting pictures

I'm a little behind with posting pics. Here are some from the last few weeks...

Aren't I pretty?




My father put me here.


Ready for the Game..

About a Year Ago...

So, as we approach Sena's first birthday and I get over my shock at how quickly an entire year has passed, I'm dealing with all sorts of conflicting emotions. It started when my nurse from Sena's birth showed up for my prenatal class last week. I'm pretty sure that I spent most of my class just trying to keep my head focused and not say things like, "stand on your elbows," which I'm known to do anyway. It was just such a trip that the last time I saw this lovely woman I was in the throws of trying to push Sena into this world.

Anyway, about a year ago, while I was waiting and waiting for Sena to arrive, we had Amy Wadlington come and photograph my growing belly. I know many women who hated being pregnant, but for me, I loved it. I mean- LOVE. I absolutely loved the connection that we shared. I remember feeling sad that I couldn't feel that connection anymore, and almost longed for my belly. (Demented? Perhaps.) A year ago, my mother-in-law and I would go walking as often as possible, trying to bring little Sena into the world. And, I would spend my other hours organizing, reorganizing, and then dismantling whatever I organized. My nesting instinct was more like a hurricane plowing through my home. Anything was fair game. I'm pretty sure that Steven hid anything valuable just to be sure I didn't throw it away or donate it to whatever charity was driving through the neighborhood that day. Anyway, approximately one year ago, I looked like this: