Cheddar hiatus.

(All photos on this post by Natalie Holford.)




After a blur of months from September-January I am on a hiatus from my work. When I say blur that is literally what I envision when I look back. A 6AM alarm clock, hurried shower, clothes thrown onto my body and my kids' bodies, chugs of coffee, quick drop-off at daycare kisses.



But, we did it. We got a flow. My gut literally twisted at fleeting moments of the day and I am sure my girls had moments of "WTF where is my mom?" but we did good. There was a routine. We had our chaotic daddy-cooked family dinners and I folded my body into Olivia's mini bed for a story most nights. Then there was that phase in December where I was away far too many hours. And there were tears.



Now I find myself with no set schedule in hand and shock of the switch is staggering. I mean, I wake up and stare at two pairs of large, expectant eyes and I wonder- How did I spend so much time away from you? And before that, how did I spend so much time with you? There must be a manual somewhere.



So, here I find myself. With polar opportunities once again. The comfort and the sacrifice. A few doors are open but how to choose? I have no idea what is the next step that will suit us best but for now I guess there will be many park days, random explorations of the backyard, and moments where I will miss where I was when I was missing them.

The gold star.

One month and six days ago I wrote a letter to my daughters and published it here. It was just another programmed sequence of letters and symbols in webland but it meant a whole lot to me. It tugged at my heart in a way I have never felt as I drove away from their daycare provider's home, making my stomach weigh a million pounds, my eyes were so blurry. I felt like I was at once making them proud, and also failing. Olivia told me I looked "shiny and pretty". I walked into my new office feeling confident and proud. I thought of them as I sat at a gray desk with a large screen in front of me. I constantly needed the reminder that they would one day be proud of me. But, I had to do good work. I had to do it all and do it well.

Now, I have been at it and I can tell you that out of the depths of longing and missing them I found ME again. The me that was not drowning under a lack of creative stimulation, no time to write. No material other than two beautiful faces. I was immersed in tiny limbs and mini sounds and playgrounds. I loved it. And resented it. I was not me, but I love them so much.

Dare I say I am here now? Platform pumps, novel in my purse, baby on hip? Red lipstick, big words, skipping around our living room with my (almost) 3 year old baby girl? Am I really sort of pulling it off? I sit down to a solitary lunch decorated with the downtown San Diego skyline, it's really quiet. I wish I could text Olivia that I love them. I'd remind her to take care of her baby sister.

Do not judge me. Devoted mama, wife, moneymaker.

I can say I start each day with earnest ambition. I will do my best. I will strive for the gold star sticker on every hat that I try to wear every day. Some are better than others but I start all days the same way.

With lots of heart, a little style, and a hint grace. They fuel me.

Plus.

To my sweet girls,

I apologize for my drama, but I cannot sleep without addressing a letter to you. You are sleeping heavily, I wish I knew what you dream of. Tomorrow our lives will be different. I will have yet another purpose, a new hat to wear. My heart feels both heavy and excited, cautious and confident. My role as full-time mama is going to shift. But, I rebel against that idea. You're the reason I chose this, for you I will work extra hard. Not only will I fight to be the best mother to you; I will also be fighting to better myself everywhere. A better wife, businesswoman, daughter, sister, friend, person.

I will no longer catch every new saying, every laugh, every tantrum. There will be things I'll miss. This awareness makes a pit in my stomach, but I also have to remember. I am the product of a career woman, a "working" mom. The strongest presence in my life, the most reliable constant. She was there now, is here now. For you, for us. From her I also draw a great strength. Thanks to her I am ready and qualified. I can do this, and I will do it well.

I carry you both wherever I go. In every pore, idea, glance at the clock.

Thank you for inspiring me.

-Mami

The little mama turned one...

And we had to celebrate the first year of the sweetest baby girl this side of the Mississippi.







She has filled my life and heart with the best example of a life well lived... find joy in simplicity, happiness in a new day. Mila rises with a huge smile on her chubby face, and goes to sleep all cuddled up to fluffy pillows and her mama that loves her so immensely. Thank you baby girl.

It's show time...

This blog is no stranger to the theme of the inspiration that comes from mothering and the constant ways that this role in my life has evolved me. Interestingly, I have suddenly been hit with the hard fact that although I have been at this mommy gig 2.5 years+ I still hadn't 't hit "real time" until now. My children's needs were so easy to meet. Belly fed, warm, clean, and loved. Easy to fulfill.

Now, that exact same pair of olive eyes that started this whole thing is watching every move I make. She notices everything. The way I walk, say certain words, put on lipstick, and bite the inside of my cheek. It's so cute, usually. Seeing her walk down the hall in my high heels, her tiny butt in Mickey underwear. She packs a purse before we leave and puts on body lotion.  But, there are moments when my influence on her is so apparent it shocks me. I am on stage!



It's so important to be real with my children. I do not want to feign perfection (even if I could) because it would be a lie. I want them to look up to and admire the person I am because it makes we want to be better. I idolize my mother to her core, to who she is when no one is around to see. What more could you ask for? Kids that adore you even more when they realize there are things in you that separate you from the rest of the world. I cannot believe my daughters can be even better, or worse, because of who I am.

We have come to the point where I have to stop my constant use of expletives and incorrect teeth brushing technique. Olivia seems to record every subtlety about us and now we know that one of her strongest attributes is that she is so glaringly aware of her surroundings. She's completely in tune with her environment and how everything happens. Ever since we began to maintain some sort of routine and constancy to her daily grind there are far less fits and better sleep at night. And between all of that are the days that make up this chapter of her life. Childhood. So incredibly important! This is when we became who we were meant to be, it's when we needed more from life than a hug and kiss from mom.

I come out of the midst of the days that are too short and too packed to keep writing on this little Internet spot of mine. There's the bossy 2.5 year old, crawling (almost) 11 month old, 1/2 marathon in two weeks, and pile of laundry that will soon enclose us as we sleep. I am too wiped to even type anything worthy. There so much I want to touch on, so many exciting/trying/awesome/overwhelming/sunny/new happenings to share. I will soon bore you with every detail of what goes on, but in the meantime, I must wish you all the loveliest of mother's days.

A day late, but every day we're on the job.

Hermanitas.

Today I left my parent's place after spending the afternoon with my sister watching True Blood. The details of our time do not matter at all since I drove off and found myself daydreaming other details. Are my girls going to have our connection? Unspoken understanding?

I should probably explain. My sister and I are just two weeks (to the day) shy of being three years apart. I remember when my mom's water broke and all the late-night commotion. Movie scenes. My dad's hurried movements as I sat on the floor in fleece footie pajamas, my mom's purple nightgown, the awful brown shag rugs. I knew something important was happening but was way too young to begin to comprehend. My sister, my DNA in another variation. We are so different.

There are two things I am curious about. One is, the fact that Paloma and I are such unique individuals. I think we understand each other yet not always agree. She boils my blood, calms my fears, is so intuitive to me. The second is, will they like each other? I mean, really. I adore my sister. I see her beautiful spirit and lightness more clearly than anyone. I know this. As I drove home, wondered, will my girls know each other's light?

Will they really see my soul divided into two between them? We are so much of where we came from.



Often they sit together, both guilty of a disaster of toys scattered all over the floors. Their little figures each sitting on the only toy-free patch of the rug. Both so beautiful to me, I am often still in awe that they are real. I love them as two but together it's just mind-blowing. Me, then one, and another.