on feeling old.

it's late. okay, it's 10:30, but that's late for me now. i attempted to take a picture of myself being super reflective and insanely gorgeous, but i've somehow ended up with this. you're welcome.

i should be in bed, but i'm savoring this alone time. it's been me, a diet coke and this bag of peanut m&m's for the last 30 minutes, and nothing and no one is going to make me feel guilty about any of that.

dude. i keep attempting to make this sound more poetic, but it just needs to be said: i am crazy hormonal right now. i feel OLD and TIRED and NOSTALGIC. it is a dangerous and insane mix.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS ONLINE SHOP AND LISTEN TO BEN FOLDS.

good night.

Happy Thanksgiving

To confess, I spend a lot of time allowing negative thinking to cloud my perception. It's not something I'm proud of. I let little stresses invade my thoughts, and I focus on the bad instead of the overwhelming amount of good in my life.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, because it's so reflective. It is a time to surround yourself with family, and pause to recognize your blessings. I wish I did it more. So, even though it's not the new year, and even though the leaves aren't really changing here in Texas, I'm turning over a new leaf. I will begin to focus on and rally behind the good in my life. I am too blessed to be so stressed.

&, some of my favorite words on thankfulness:

"I like to walk alone on country paths,
rice plants and wild grasses on both sides,
putting each foot down on the earth
in mindfulness, knowing
that I walk on the wondrous earth.
In such moments, existence is a miraculous
and mysterious reality.

People usually consider walking on water
or in thin air a miracle.
But I think the real miracle
is not to walk either on water or in thin air,
but to walk on earth.
Every day we are engaged in a miracle
which we don't even recognize:
a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves,
the black, curious eyes of a child--
our own two eyes.
All is a miracle."
Thich Nhat Hanh, "Miracle of Mindfulness"

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

Rumi "A Great Wagon"

great grandparents.

Henry and I just got back after spending five days with my grandparents, Henry's great-grandparents. My dad met us down there, and I can't tell you how wonderful it was. See that smile on my grandma's face? It never left. She was radiant with love and pride the entire visit.

My grandma and grandpa were supposed to meet Henry 6 months ago, but my grandpa fell and broke his hip; so, they had to cancel. It crushed my grandma, who has been faithfully taking care of him the past three years as he goes in and out of the hospital. She called me on the phone when they realized they wouldn't be able to come, "I just want to hold him." It was devastating. She told me in the car while I was there, "I felt selfish asking you to come all this way; I'm so glad you did. He's just perfect, Kelly."

My relationship with my grandma has always been strained. I've always felt I wasn't who she wanted me to be. I was either too rambunctious or unladylike. This trip was different; we really connected. I felt like I was finally doing something right. She kept telling me I was a great mother, that I made her proud. And those words mean so much when they're coming from someone you respect so highly; they mean the world.

My grandpa is sick; there's no two ways about it. I'm still coming to terms with the reality that he's going to die. It's so hard to imagine a world he doesn't exist in. It makes me feel better knowing that he met Henry -- that he's kissed his face and laughed with him. Someday, I can show Hendrix a picture of when he was very small, and I can tell him, "That's your great-grandpa, he loved you very, very much."

feminism and motherhood.

I want to write about Erica Jong's essay questioning modern motherhood. In Jong's defense, I think it is a conversation that needs to happen. I loved this response to her essay. We, as women, need to question our roles at home and at work. The fact that the conversation feels so polarized is unfortunate. There are women on either side of the fence (work vs. home), but I really feel most of us are somewhere in the middle.

I wish feminism was more about celebrating choice instead of shunning her choice because it is not mine. There is such a ridiculous competitive game that mothers play. Working mothers get defensive and talk about how they would be so bored if they had to be a stay at home mom. SAHMs get pretentious and talk about how empty they'd feel at work. Realistically, isn't this an individual preference? Why do we need to put someone else's choice down in oder to validate our own?

At the end of the day, raising children is hard work. Each family has to make tough decisions when it comes to childcare and parenting. Sadly, more often than not, our decisions are made for us by things like lack of funds or a broken support system. As feminists, shouldn't we be supporting our sisters instead of judging them?

Now, I better unload the dishwasher, put these folded clothes away and take off this apron; I have a baby to cuddle.

It's 2.

Hendrix has been waking up more at night lately. He's also been waking up around 6:30. I've been reading Dr. Sears' "The Sleep Book," because I really want to exhaust (no pun intended) attachment parenting's answer to sleep problems before I look elsewhere. I have been so happy with our parenting choices so far. I really have been. I don't want to turn somewhere else out of desperation, you know? After all, Henry will eventually sleep all night on his own. Even though that seems like a lifetime away, I know I'll blink and he'll be away at college.

But, of course, his night waking caused a big fight between E and I. It's kinda inevitable. Eric wakes up after I've already been dealing with Henry. So, I'm already frustrated and exhausted. Then, he attempts to help, but just ends up offending me. It's brutal. I guess that's what happens at 1 in the morning?

UGH. I think I'll be reading some Tich Nhat Hahn tomorrow morning. I have got to reconnect with my center of gravity and sanity. Also, I think I'll be pairing it with a giant cup of coffee.

In the meantime, check this kid out: