What You Have the Courage to Ask For

It's been an amazing summer so far, with a trip to the Salzburg mountains and so many sweet, simple moments with my son. We've had a wonderful mix of rain and heat, and the woods are already sprouting mushrooms that normally don't start appearing until July. Lately I've been experiencing instances where I am doing some little task, and find myself feeling just fine, which is a foreign sensation since my Mom died. I still have overwhelming waves of grief wash over me and shake my entire being. But more and more often, I have those realiziations that I am OK, things are good. Things would be better, and different, if I still had my Mom to talk to, and hug, and make new memories with. But this is how things are. It's time to start being OK.

Things have certainly changed quite a bit since I last wrote. At some point early this year, we came to the acceptance that Rafael will be an only child. After long, frustrating periods of trying to conceive, where each month of disappointment slowly poisons your relationship and eats away at your gratitude and joy, we decided stop mourning the absence of a second child and to instead celebrate having our healthy, lovely son. We let go of our picture of how our family would be. And we let go of the notion that we would only be whole and happy if Rafael had a sibling and we had a second child. I got rid of almost all of the baby stuff I had stored, and it was very freeing. We still have times where that longing comes back, and who knows, maybe it will never go away entirely. But the pressure and frustration are gone. They have been replaced by gratitude for my son that gives me butterflies in my stomach when I think about it! It is truly fanstastic having an only child. I would describe it as relaxed, and intimate. 

This realization presented a step that I thought would come much later. I thought I would be a stay-at-home-mom for many years to come, since I expected to have more than one child. But now I was the mother of a four and a half year old who spent the majority of his days in preschool, where his friends were, where he socialized, learned, and played. My work as a mother felt less and less like work, and was evolving into a deep, loving relationship. This is such a wonderful step, but it also became clear that he did not need me like he used to, and that it was time for me to find a job. 

For about a week, I fell into a depressed state. I had no idea what I should do. I am in my mid-thirties, and my life looked different than I thought it would. So what would the new picture be? I began beating myself up. Why hadn't I found what I want to do yet? Why had everything I had tried so far failed? I knew I didn't want to be self-employed, but I also didn't want to sit at a cashier or wait tables. There are so many creative things I love, but I didn't want to be a struggling artist. I wanted a stable job where I could be creative, where I wouldn't get bored. Something I would want to do for at least the next 30 years of my life.

But what could that be?

So there I was, feeling sorry for myself, when I started thinking about how I feel every time I bring Rafael to preschool, and pick him up. How I feel when his preschool puts on a little play, or celebrates Christmas. How I feel when he brings something home that he crafted, or tells me excitedly about something new he learned there. How I feel when I spend some time in his preschool group, sitting on a tiny chair, watching the children build with blocks or eat their crackers, surrounded by children's voices. What feelings did I get? Happiness. Comfort. Wonder. Fun. I pictured myself in a classroom with children, and immediately felt my heart jump. And suddenly I thought, "I wonder how someone goes about becoming a preschool teacher?" I began researching on the internet, and quickly found out that there was an open-door event taking place just a few days later at the near-by school where you could earn your teaching credentials.

After that open-door day, I knew this was the right thing. There were all sorts of beaurocratic hurdles for me as an ex-pat, but my will to make it happen had me ticking off those tasks one by one, springing over obstacles and heading in the right direction in a driven manner I had never experienced. I passed the qualifying exam with flying colors and am signed up to begin my two-and-a-half year education this September!

Oprah once said, "You get in life what you have the courage to ask for." I am learning to be outrageous and courageous with the things I ask for. I don't want mediocrity, and I don't want my life and creativity to be wasted. I am asking for a life well-lived, full of meaning for my fellow mankind. I am asking for a job that I love. I am asking for a job that is much more significant than a paycheck. A career that feels tailormade, where I learn easily because I am interested in what I am learning. Where my strengths shine, and my weaknesses are just tiny bumps in the road. It takes courage to ask for those things, to ask for your life to be something special.

Needless to say I am full of anticipation and have a whole new reason to look forward to Fall this year. I wonder if you all would be interested in following my journey to becoming a preschool teacher?

xoxoxo Thank you for sticking around and always welcoming me back!

Childhood Is A Short Season

"Childhood is a short season." -Helen Hayes

These are just a few snippets of the beautiful year we have been having so far. Writing those words...'beautiful year'....cuts me and brings tears to my eyes, because I am living each day in such division since my mother passed last August. There is the sweet beauty of my outer world: of my bustling, pretty home, spilling over with Legos; the sing-song of my son's voice asking questions, laughing, singing, complaining, demanding, explaining the world through his eyes, telling me he loves me 'more than there are things;' the daily rhythms of coffee, toast, dog-walking, nature and bird-song, laundry, dishes, friends, groceries, play-dates, meals, bed-time with sleepy cuddles and books in the blue-yellow glow of a globe lamp. And then there is the visceral pain, the choking-on-tears sadness, the inner explosions of desperation at the realization that I cannot bring her back, I cannot change this, this is what I must live with now. Living each day in this divide is still strange, but it is becoming more familiar the longer I live it.

As Helen Hayes says, "Childhood is a short season," and this knowledge, which feels almost like a threat, like a bitter truth, keeps me as firmly planted in gratitude for the every-day as much as possible. This time is fleeting. This time of chlorine and ice cream, sunscreen, scraped knees, a stick-sword, swings and footballs, watching Tom and Jerry under a fluffy comforter while drinking cocoa through a straw, hair still wet from the blow-up pool in the yard; a belly round and sticking out unapologetically, sticky popsicle juice running down fingers, shouting and singing and jumping from high-up places; one moment Super Hero, the next moment curling up in Mama's lap and stroking her arm, needing me and still so small.

Rafael, Mama is so sad sometimes, Mama misses her own Mama, Mama feels lonely and abandoned. Who will love me and call me and check up on me; be concerned, care, and bare witness to the weavings and highlights and tragedies and victories of my life? This was all my Mother; she was difficult and wonderful. She annoyed me and delighted me. She read my blog religiously, she commented on my Facebook posts; she called and wrote and loved watching Rafael grow up. She was a cheerleader, my biggest fan. She saw so much good in me, and wanted to see me flourish and live to my fullest potential. This is all missing now.

But now I am that for you, Rafael. I am your Mama. I am your biggest fan. I annoy you and delight you, I am difficult and wonderful. I will cheer you on, I will remind you all the time how awesome you are. I will watch your life and destiny unfold, I will be here for you as long as I can. I will be concerned, I will care. I will see the good in you, and will help you flourish any way I can.

Childhood is a short season, and I will not let it slip by. I will celebrate each day with you, my boy. Yes I will be sad, I will miss and I will feel that cutting loss. But, my boy, I've got you, and you've got me. And that's more than I could ever ask for.

A Perfect Autumn Walk

Hope you are all having a beautiful Autumn.

Thank you all so much for your kind words regarding the loss of my mother.

xoxoxo Dawn

To be so strong

“Promise Yourself

To be so strong that nothing
can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness, and prosperity
to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.

To think only the best, to work only for the best,
and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear,
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world,
not in loud words but great deeds.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.” 

-Christian D. Larson Your Forces and How to Use Them

Maybe these words will enfold you in their warmth. When I read them I was filled with inspiration, and the strong desire to be true to the best that is in me.

The photos were taken at Annahof, an organic farm we like to visit whenever we get a chance. 

xoxoxo

Late Fall

As I write this, Rafael is cuddled up on the couch with a fever watching Handy Manny, and the first snow is falling outside, leaving everything covered in white. We rolled out sticky brown dough this morning and baked up foxes, stars, and hedgehogs, and now our home has the deep spicy scent of gingerbread. The dogs are snoring. We are still in our pajamas. 

These photos were taken a few days ago before Rafael fell sick, at the local nature park. There are deer and wild pigs, and now that the cold weather had settled in, there are huge piles of sugar beets that you can feed to them. Raffi and his cousins loved climbing over the sugar beets, picking out the biggest ones, and giving them to the deer and pigs. Rafael said he was 'working,' which meant taking beets from one pile and bringing them to another. I was so glad that the large deer buck came to us, eating the roots from our hands, letting me take some photos of him with his herd.

Thank you all for the words that came from your hearts. I felt the warmth and comfort in them. This year has been incredibly difficult and at times very dark for me, from beginning to end. There are some things I haven't shared here because they are too personal and painful. But you have always been here, a source of light and support. I am very grateful.

Now, when Raffi is sick, it is time for patience, cuddling, reading books, and waiting. I can hardly wait to get out into the snowy woods!

xoxoxo 

What these pictures don't tell you...

What these pictures don't tell you is that the past couple of weeks have been a struggle. My husband was nearing a burn-out, I cry almost every morning out of frustration because getting Rafael and the dogs and myself ready to leave the house feels like an almost impossible feat, and I feel disconnected to my friends and family.

What these pictures don't tell you is that what I really truly desire is to connect deeply and truly with people; to understand and feel understood; to support and feel supported.

What these pictures don't tell you is that I have selfish material desires, like a big lovely home surrounded by land and trees. I try to be content with what I have, it's more than I dared to wish for in the past. But fantasies creep up into my mind, no matter how hard I try to focus on my blessings.

What these pictures don't tell you is that I don't know what I'm doing sometimes. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for my son, for my dogs, for my husband, for my friends, for my family, for my self. 

What these pictures don't tell you is that I get pangs of jealousy when I look at pictures on Instagram. And then I feel guilty for feeling jealous. 

What these pictures don't tell you is that I have gained back 7 of the 25 pounds I lost. 

What these pictures don't tell you is that I worry. I worry so much and so often!

What these pictures don't tell you is that my most meaningful relationship is with my son. It scares and overwhelms me how significant and important he is to me. It frightens me how much I love him. It baffles me that this person, who is so tiring, demanding, and exhausting, can be the light of my life and the one thing in my life I know to be true and good.

xoxoxo

The Most Out Of Life

"One way to get the most out of life is to look upon it as an adventure."

-William Feather

I have days when I feel that I am not doing enough, not making enough out of my life. I am sure there are so many people who feel this way, and I believe a lot of it has to do with the fact that, through social media, we see all the things other people are doing, achieving, and acquiring. All the things other people are cooking, crafting, remodeling, improving, and creating. It can be inspiring. And also overwhelming. 

I am doing my best, and when I remind myself of this, I can, for at least a little while, forgive myself for not being the mom who wakes up early to bake scones; the one who bakes all her own bread and tends a huge organic garden, all while raising five children and running a successful, impeccably designed etsy shop filled with her beautiful, ornate handmade things. She's probably writing and illustrating a cook book too. And has thousands of followers on her blog. And lives in a renovated old farmhouse. All things I think I should be doing and having, and don't. All things I think would make my life complete, make me whole, make me happy. But can't I decide to be complete, whole, and happy right now, in this very moment?

I have so much to be grateful for, and when I have an attitude of gratitude, I can breath again. 

When I focus on what my best is at this moment, and stop looking around at what other people are doing, I feel so much better!

When I forgive myself for not being perfect, I can move on and just keep doing my best. 

My life is a series of constant blessings. When I remember to think of it as such, the feelings of inadequacy and frustration drop away. 

We are enjoying gorgeous, golden days here. It's incredible, living a life in a peaceful country, with enough of everything, with a roof, a family, friends, time, food, love. For all these things, I am grateful!

xoxoxo