Granola, anyone?

I love being a mom in Santa Cruz. I didn’t realize just how much I had absorbed the crunchy mama culture (think Earth Mother) until it hit me one day, while I was wearing my baby in a sling as I concocted homemade laundry detergent. I was wearing aluminum-free deodorant (which, lets be honest, doesn’t really work) and singing a song from Mothersong, a multi-cultural singalong that I take Collin to. At Mothersong, you will be likely to sit in a circle and openly breastfeed while you sing “We love the mother earth” with babies named Hawk and Bear (I’m not kidding. They’re very cute babies).

I love living naturally. I admire other people who live naturally. And, yes, I’ve even acquired a taste for granola. You’re welcome, Santa Cruz.

In other news, we are yet again traveling to Southern California, this time to support my Mom’s partner as she passes from this life. I am anticipating some highly emotional days ahead, hopefully brightened a little by Collin’s sweet smile.


It is what it is: Discovering acceptance.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of my favorite mantra, “I am, what I am, what I am. Thank god I am.”

Finding my place as a mother and as a soul transitioning from youth to midlife has offered insights into paths I never once considered. It has opened windows and closed them. I have become calmer, stronger, perhaps a little wiser. Also, more confused. But that comes with the process, I suppose.

I do not believe in death the way modern Americans perceive it. To me, what we know as death is just a transition from one world to another, a different (perhaps less painful?) form of birth. I used to pride myself in believing I was immune to fearing death. That is, until I became a mother. Suddenly, death had a whole new meaning. Yes, I still view it as a simple transition, but now there is more to it. “What if” swims around my head as I rock my child to sleep at night. What if there was a bad earthquake? What if there was a terrible car accident? What if there was a fire?

What if I lost my husband? What if I lost my child? What if I lost them both? How would I go on?

The impermanence of life has left me humbled. Every day, I thank the Universe for one more day with my beautiful family, for our health and happiness. For our safety. Being a mother has made me realize, despite all the responsibilities I do have, just how much I don’t have control. And if I allow it, I will collapse into myself with worry, crumble beneath the weight of What If? I am only human, but I have the divine capability of choosing my thoughts. I try to remember to think them wisely. Worrying about my future will not protect my future, nor will spending my energy groveling to the Universe in gratefulness for how good I have it now. I need to live boldly, in acceptance of what turns my life may take, and that is how I will honor my life, past, present, and future.

I am, what I am, what I am. Thank god I am.