the day to day

It seemed to have taken us about eight months to really get here but I'm starting to feel it hardcore. We are a family of four. Five if you count sweet Lucy who is actually finding her way back into the mix with marginal upheaval. Something seemed to shift while we were away. We were able to celebrate being together. Able to slow down. Elie and I fell back in love. We cut the drama and got back to our roots as a rockin' couple. And then Sol and Elie started their own thing. This thing where she talks about him and includes him in her stories and games. This thing where all he wants to do is smile at her big, grab her hair and attempt to hurl his body across and over hers. She's a pretty good sport about it all and actually has to put up a fight when he comes at her. He's a tough little lug.





Jeff and I re-streamlined our roles and quit keeping score. Sol and Jeff became super sweet on each other and he stopped just wanting me. And me and Sol, well, me and Sol are pretty much as tight as it gets. I could just let him gum my nose forever. And he would.

Coming back from almost three weeks in a tropical paradise to freezing temperatures (like...I think it was eight today...) and snow and ice can be a bit jarring, even if I weren't a Los Angeles princessa. But when I began to tread and trip a bit into the dark side last week, I reminded myself of my new plan. To take it light. To let it be. We stayed at the party late and let Eliana jump off the stage again and again. Sol sacked out in the Ergo and I had another glass of wine. I found myself in the front of a new class of twenty yoga students, ready to give them my weird, loud, rockin' version of vinyasa. A lot of them actually smiled. I did too. I had to just go with my thing. Be my authentic self.

I think my authentic self needed a good six months to settle into her new role. Mama of two. Wife. Teacher. Mover. Creative chef. Dude! Tandoori chicken in the crock tonight. Not half bad. And a big 'ol batch of daal that both Sol and Elie ate. Trying to be more mindful of the family food. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one on that train. Well, me and Sol, cuz homeboy'll try anything. The only time he's pissed is when we don't include him at the dinner table. And he just grunts until a rice cake or spoonful is passed his way. And then he gums.



Even the pre-work/school/daycare ritual is coming together. It's still not my favorite part of the day, to be certain, but I'm trying to not muscle through it anymore. I'm kinda rollin'. I did 108 sun salutations on the 31st in a little thatched palapa overlooking the Pacific. It was awesome. But after really settling into vacation mode, I wasn't exactly in the tip top asana way. And I had a bunk finger. Towards the end I felt myself really starting to muscle through it. Then a few days later I think I had my first hernia. It went away. But it was another good reminder about why I should never muscle through anything.

Did I mention in my Mexico post how I sliced my finger the second day we were there. Making a freaking quesadilla for Elie. Hacking way too hard and fast into a hunk of soft Oaxacan cheese with the machete of the knife in our little cocina. My finger was literally gaping, two big flaps, visible bone and lots of blood. "Remember how you said fuck when you hurt your finger, Mama?"

I was in a lot of pain. More importantly, I was pissed. So mad at myself for moving too quickly. So sure that my trip would be ruined because we'd have to spend all our money at some little health clinic on my stupid stitches and I wouldn't be able to go in the ocean. Or in the sun. Or on the sand. And it was all my fault. And I wasn't mindful. And I don't really even like the word mindful really because it's so yogi chic and not really real enough for me like, say, careful. Or slow. Or calmly. Or gently.

Luckily the finger parts reassembled with the help of some gauze, alcohol and a good old fashioned band-aid. The sea water helped. So did the salty air. And I can almost bend it all the way again. I have a scar that will serve as a good reminder. Go gently. I'll bring that into my mantra of 2011.

Mind is feeling pretty full tonight. Speaking of mind full. My worst childhood nightmare came to life in Tuscon. I've had a fear of open fire for way too long. Eliana is developing fears. She fears "shooters" and mountain lions. Jeff and I were talking about our childhood phobias last night. His was, and still is, sharks. I began. Well, earthquakes and fires. And strangers. And bad guys. The night stalker. It seemed I could have gone on and on. I guess I could have added open fire to my list. I can't even read about it. I can't even go there. I feel it will halt all the good work I'm trying to do. Paint a dark, black mark across my body and hold me in his grasp. I'll slip on the ice and hold my children too tight, need to stare at them all night long, lock the doors, never leave the house. My safe valley. I think part of the reason so many of my physical problems cleared up when I left Los Angeles is because I was no longer living in the face of so many of my fears. And while fires and earthquakes and bad guys exist in Montana, something about it felt new enough to help me conquer all that anxiety. Oh anxiety. Anxiety, anxiety.

I'm sipping my calming bedtime tea and wondering why I continue to ramble on here. It's time to turn in, read my book, work on getting quiet inside so I can settle and sleep. Wait for my Prince of Peace as Jeffy calls him, to get his snack on. He's getting much better and will usually settle in for a good six hours or so until he wants to say hi. And then he heads back into his dark little cave for some more sweet dreams. Dreams of pulling Eliana's curls. Of jumping up and down. Of putting every last thing on the floor into his mouth.

And what does Elie dream about? Her baby. Surfing. The carousel. Her buddies.

When is this winter time going to be over, Mama? I'm tired of this winter time! I miss Mexico.

Like mother, like daughter.

But look at the beautiful, shiny white snow, Els! Look at the elk on jumbo. The sun is even shining today.

I neglected to mention that we were in the single digits and she probably wouldn't get to play outside at recess because it was too freakin' cold. But verbalizing the positive, even if it was a bit of a farce, got me to appreciate what I saw. The distinct shine of Lolo Peak. Her curls spewing from beneath her fleece hat in the rear view mirror. The wave and smile of the crossing guard. The faith we put in the goodness that is everywhere to move us from one day to the next.