Right up until the breathing I was like, “But when are we going to start doing yoga?” —Not realizing it started when I walked into the studio.
When I laid on the floor, breathing in through my nose, down into my belly, opening my rib cage… I stopped thinking about what was going to happen next. When I stood to learn Tadasana, a foundational yoga pose, I was so focused on my pelvis, the corners of my feet(I bet you didn't even know your feet had four corners. I certainly didn’t.), and breathing— I literally wasn’t thinking about a single other thing. I need yoga because I know it’s gonna teach me how to truly BE with myself.
I am so ready for this added layer of self discovery.
See, food and cooking is how I say, “I love you.” It’s how I say, “I’m glad you’re here.” Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I have such difficulty managing the goals for my health and fitness, but I digress. We can chat about that another day.
Off I went to the store the day before the party.
On my way to the store I decided the menu would include baked ziti and a tossed salad with yummy add-ins like gorgonzola cheese, green apples, craisins and such. I grabbed ground and linked Italian sausage. I quickly remembered several of my guests don’t eat pork. No worries! I’ll just grab some ground beef and more ingredients. Now, I have to make two sauces, but I got this. I headed to check out.
Oh crap!!! One of my guests can longer eat tomato anything. Side note: I grew up in a house that was always entertaining. My parents taught me that you make people feel welcomed by considering them in your choices. In other words, make sure there’s something for everyone. I decided to grab some chicken breasts and veggies to make chicken alfredo pasta too. I finished shopping. I had about 20lbs of meat, a full cart and a fully overwhelmed heart.
As I began to reflect; expectation boiled down to two things: Vulnerability and Trust.
We have previously discussed vulnerability. I have written about its’ importance and the strength we find when we embrace vulnerability. Yet, here I was beating myself up for being vulnerable… for opening myself up to disappointment. This is why I say, “I’m not here because I’m an expert. I’m here because I have experiences.”I’m no master at this. I’m struggling and growing and learning just like you. I stand out only because I share my experiences; not because I’ve mastered them.
It is irresponsible to do all the housework in a home full of able bodied individuals. Put your mini-me’s to work. They need to understand what it takes for everything in the house to GO! I don’t know about y’all, but there isn’t a magic fairy that puts away groceries and washes dishes at my house. So... my children do it🤷🏽♀️😂.
I love my lil babies. There are few things that bring me greater joy than their happiness, but their happiness cannot come at the expense of me. The happiness of your children is not more important that you. So, while we work hard to provide them with a particular lifestyle; they need to understand that it is their shared responsibility to help maintain it… all of it.
Guest Rule— Do not call when you are two houses down to ask if the host needs anything… unless you live in an urban metropolitan area where there might actually be a corner store. Us suburbanites do not have corner stores, but you already knew that. Don’t be disingenuous. Calling from the driveway talking about, “What can I bring?”. That said, do not come empty handed. Even if they don’t need anything— bring something. Flowers, wine, fruit punch… something. Unless you have previously discussed an extenuating circumstance with the host… your presence is not enough. With love, Stephanie
While I’m on this journey I’m going to tell you the truth. You know, you look at folks who lost the weight and kept it off. People post pictures in the gym or on the track, but we rarely discuss the setbacks, the double cheeseburgers and the days you give up. You see triumphant folks who've met a goal, but you don’t consider all that they went through to get to that point. You see them fit, healthy and you compare their relative success to your failure. Thing is… you’re looking at an incomplete picture. And yo! Stop comparing yourself to other people anyway! Yes, I yelled at you.
I breastfed my children. It is a feeling… no… its an experience unlike anything else. Euphoric might be pushing it a bit too far, but its something like that. It’s euphoric-ish. I mean, you know, after your nipples stop bleeding and you no longer wince each time they latch on to your flesh with the strength of ten thousand commercial vacuum cleaners. Side note: How do they come here that strong anyway? Their tiny limbs are little more than al dente pasta, but their mouths? Strong like morning breath.
Anyway, I was saying... Breastfeeding your little one is euphoric-ish. Time and time again I’ve said I wish everyone could experience it. Not just women, but men too. If I could I would put it in a bottle and give it away. The feeling that I am the provider of life for this living creature and we both know it. It’s a very fluid, symbiotic relationship. The giving and the taking, but it has nothing to do with power and control. It’s just about love. Pure love. So, what then? What are we talking about today?
I’m still nursing Baby Blake. Yes it’s probably not exactly accurate to continue to put baby in front of his name, but I did it and you will deal. In the same way that everyone needs to deal with the fact that I’m still nursing him. The looks I get when he starts to tug at my shirt or tries to settle down into my lap, assuming the position. So what he’s 2, has a full mouth of teeth and makes poop that rivals that of a grown up. He’s my baby. He still wants “Milky”. I’m still giving it to him. Boom. Just like that.
