Polka Dot Clouds

Motherhood is like the sky. It’s unfathomably vast and full of uncertainty. There are moments of turbulence, moments of peace, moments of darkness and moments of beauty. And it’s always changing.

I don’t spend much time cloud-watching unless something brilliant catches my eye. That was the case yesterday. It was mid-morning and the sky was the oddest polka dotted pattern I have memory of seeing. Even my kids were in awe.

Unfortunately, the picture doesn't quite capture what my eye did.

I have no idea what set of conditions and circumstances have to come together to create such wonder, but the outcome was mesmerizing. We watched it for a while, noticing how each puffy little cloud seem to be its own silver button, sticking collectively together in the sky. And, not unlike how kids grow and evolve right before our eyes, it was only a couple hours before the clouds had merged and swirled together to take on a completely different form and the polka dot sky was forever in the past, never to be duplicated exactly the same again.

And so are the moments of motherhood; each with their own set of conditions and circumstances, many of which are out of our control. But when we learn to appreciate the sky for its beauty in that moment, we are reminded to also cherish those fleeting moments of motherhood with our children that, too, will eventually blow away. And what better way to make me stop, look, and take it in with a smile than polka dot clouds.

What's That Smell?

It took me a few days to figure this one out. The first time I smelled it was in the car. I just figured one of the kids passed gas (a common occurrence, unfortunately). Then I smelled it in the bathroom. Same assumption, or something similar. THEN I did the laundry.

Yes, my almost nine year old has officially crossed over from my little boy...to a stinky, smelly kid. The culprit was his socks. I’m surprised they didn’t walk over to the laundry and throw themselves in, just to be put our of their misery. No, they insist on permeating our small house crammed full of people, while hiding in unsuspecting places. I can have just done my usual three loads of laundry and find one more stinker (literally!) hiding under the couch, behind the door or rolled up under some poor, innocent toy. They are e v e r y w h e r e. And, when I say they stink, I mean...THEY STINK!

Just how bad is it? My SON asked me to please help him get rid of the smell, because, apparently, it bothers him, too. He’s not concerned about scaring away girls or subjecting others to his bodily odors, he really is nauseated by the smell of his own feet. I even have a shoes ON rule now with him because it’s not just the socks that stink...it’s the shoes...AND his feet.

So, I’ve invested in odor eaters in the hopes of taming the stinky feet monster. Wish me luck. Especially since I have two more boys who have not yet reached this stage and a daughter who is actually AFRAID of the stinky socks. Can’t say I blame her.

Feeling a Little Croppy. And Not in a Scrapbooking Kind of Way.

I’m talking about the THOUSANDS of pictures I have of my children...which I adore...but I can’t find a single one of me. Normally I wouldn't think much of it (and may even be a little relieved), but right now I’m scrambling to include a profile picture with the writings I’m submitting. I’ve come to the realization that not only can I count the number of pictures I’m in on one hand (out of the thousands), but my go-to pictures when I need them are the ones that I have cropped.

I’m pretty sure it started right after childbirth when I didn’t want to be photographed because I was overtired, overweight (and no longer pregnant) and feeling nothing like myself. And then the focus continues to be on the infant, then baby, then toddler, then preschooler, then sports and it goes on. Until one day I realize that all those years I spent dodging the camera or being the one behind it means my kids will have little to no record of my existence. I sure hope the memories I’m creating for them will last, because it’s not going to be in print. And while I would have thought it narcissistic in the past to want to be in countless pictures, I am realizing now that it is actually a wonderful gift to give my children. Even when I’m having a bad hair day. Because, really, isn’t it fun and amusing to look back on pictures of YOUR parents when you were little? And have you seen the reaction of your little ones when they see what Grandma and Grandpa looked like way back when? From now on I won’t be afraid to ask strangers to take my picture with my kids, won’t shy away from a camera pointed my direction (even if I’m in my bathing suit or am sans make up), and promise to always smile graciously rather than duck away.

But in the mean time, I’m relegated to my own limited photography skills for my self portrait (yes, that’s me holding my camera out in front). What struck me, though, was that as I looked around at other mom’s profile pictures, I noticed that most of their pictures resemble mine. Isn’t is ironic (and a little sad) that the one person who is probably most influential in their children’s lives is the one person that is missing in pictures? My kids are gonna hate it, but that’s going to change for me. Starting...right...NOW.

Me and My Shadow

When training for a half marathon, weekends are synonymous with long runs of 10+ miles. I’m not going to lie...after a few miles the motivation wears off and I’m left looking for other sources of inspiration. Here’s my most recent discovery.

I have found the perfect running partner. We are exactly the same pace, I can still listen to my favorite tunes and I don’t have to hold a conversation while I’m huffing and puffing. And the best part is, whether it’s moonlight or sunlight, we’re always together.

So how is my shadow my ideal running partner? It takes a little imagination, but really, what else do you have to do mile after mile but run and think. So, when my shadow is in front of me, I challenge myself to step on it- kind of like shadowboxing, but it’s my feet that are punching the pavement. When my shadow is behind me, I race it, trying not to let it catch me. When it’s beside me, I run taller. When it’s at an angle out in front, it reminds me to check my form and stay light on my feet; and when it’s at an angle behind me, it reminds me to look over my shoulder and stay safe, alert and aware as I run. My shadow is happy to pull or push me up any size hill (you’d be surprised at the difference this can make!). And, in those instances when my shadow is no where to be found, I imagine it’s flying above me, floating me along.

My shadow celebrates with me when I triumph and walks closely with me when I don’t. My shadow might just be my new best running friend. So, if you’re needing a little extra motivation when you’re out there running (or walking), take a look around the ground...chances are, there is somebody very close cheering you on.