Can magic happen twice? #LTYM

Nearly two years ago, I was part of something magical. It was the first Listen to Your Mother show in Indianapolis. A group of women from different parts of Indiana, the Midwest really, with different jobs and experiences came together to discuss what tied us all together -- motherhood. Being in the show was fabulous. Getting to know these women was even better. And now, the call is out for submissions to this year's Listen to Your Mother show and I wonder if I have it in me to make the magic happen again.

The deadline for submissions to the Indianapolis show is January 31. I've been mulling over some ideas in my head, but nothing seems to stick. My entry for the inaugural Indianapolis show was a humorous piece (see the video here). Should I go that route again? Maybe I should dig in to something more emotional? Or something with a spiritual bent? I guess I need to just sit down and start writing and see where it takes me.

I've also given some thought to auditioning for the show in my husband's hometown of Evansville, Indiana. This is Evansville's first year for LTYM. One of the producers is Hillary Melchiors who was a member of "my" cast in Indianapolis. It would be so great to be a part of growing LTYM to a new city. Auditions there take place next month, on a day it just so happens we will be in town for a college visit.

And if I were even to get selected for the Indy or Evansville show, would the magic still exist? It would be different magic for sure. I'm a different person and the cast would be different. But I choose to believe that the camaraderie of the cast and the electricity of sharing my own words on stage would be magical in its own, new way.

What about you? Is there a LTYM show near you? Probably -- there are nearly 40 shows this year! Do you have something to say about being (or not being), having (or not having) a mother?

If telling your story on a stage is not your style, I really encourage you to step out of your comfort zone and give it a try. Or just write your story for yourself. There is real power in that, too. At the very least, find a LTYM show near you and be in the audience. You won't be disappointed. I swear on my mother's grave (except she is happily alive, but you get the idea).

The 7 refrains of motherhood

I like to sing. I'm not good at it, but I like to do it anyway. My repertoire pretty much consists of church songs and show tunes. This morning when I woke up, I didn't awaken singing. Instead, I woke thinking about the refrains of motherhood.

Like the refrain of a song -- "Let it go! Let it go! -- the refrains of motherhood are those things I find myself repeating over and over again, day after day, year after year.

As I thought about them, I identified seven refrains of motherhood.

Don't touch. This is one of the things we tell our children from their very young years. Don't touch...the things lining the shelves in the store, the hot stove, my Diet Coke. As our kids get to their teen years, "don't touch" takes on a whole new meaning...drugs, alcohol, and again, my Diet Coke.

Be careful. These words of caution start out as physical admonitions, encouraging our kids to be careful when crossing the street, climbing a tree or jungle gym, swinging a baseball bat for the first time. Slowly, they morph into words that are meant to guide our loves to make wise choices for themselves, to protect their hearts and souls. And when they set out, car keys and shiny new driver's license in hand, for that first solo drive, "be careful" again carries it's most basic and urgent message, the one that says "please come back to me in one piece."
 
Great job. One of my favorite parts of being a mom is the feeling of that heartswell when one of my kids does something good. It was a swell I felt at their first steps, the first time they rode a two-wheeler by themselves. Even better is the joy we feel when we see them include someone who is sitting alone or give up something important to them for the benefit of someone who needs it more. As parents we don't keep that swell within. We rush to our kids, wrap our arms around them, and tell them "Great job!" Sometimes we use different words, but truly, the refrain is same. Great job, indeed.

Do it now. This is one of the exasperated refrains of motherhood. Nothing is so maddening as having to repeat myself several times, waiting for one child or another to move on a request I've made or a directive I've given. Old family folklore has it that my mother-in-law used to reach the end of her rope, particularly when stalling about homework was involved, and shout in a maniacal voice, "Do it now! Do it now! Do it now!" I may have sputtered the same words once. Maybe twice.

Be nice. It's really one of the most basic things about being human. Be nice to others. Treat them as you wish to be treat. When our children are little and are greeting a new sibling or are playing alongside another child, we often gently tell them "Be nice." As they get older, the direction can sometimes be more complex, even harder to follow. "Be nice" to people who rub you the wrong way. "Be nice" to the mean girls in the school cafeteria. "Be nice" to the kids who other kids might make fun of you for being nice to. "Be nice" to the one who broke your heart. "Be nice" to the teacher who you think is mean. "Be nice" to yourself.

Go ahead. Our jobs as mothers, as parents, is to hold our children's hands while they are little...and sometimes when they are big. At some point, though, we let go, nudge them forward and tell them "go ahead." We say it as they take their first teetering steps, as they push off for the first time with no training wheels. We say it as they get on the school bus or they stand in front of the class to share their project. When our children are reluctant or fearful, we might want to swallow those words, to save them for a better time. Yes, sometimes "go ahead" are two of the scariest words we can think to say, but we know they are words of love. As the mother of new driver and a child just a blink away from college, I know the loving terror and joy of this refrain.

I love you.  All the other refrains of motherhood are really just alternate ways of singing this one. If the only refrain my children remember is "I love you," I will have done my job.

What are other refrains of motherhood do you find yourself singing? 

What I don't say about motherhood

About 5 weeks ago, I wrote a Pour Your Heart Out entry called "The downside of Facebook (or where did my social life go)." Many of you were sympathetic, saying you've encountered the same situations. Life settling into less than exciting social lives, the kids' schedules taking precedence over your own. But there was one commenter who left me thinking.

Lauren Michelle said, "I hear this a lot from parents, and it kind of makes me nervous about having kids. I really want kids, but I saw this same thing in my own family growing up and my parents only had one kid - me. I played softball, danced, cheered, did gymnastics, not to mention all the after-school activities I participated in...I don't know what they would've done if I'd had siblings.

I feel bad that parenting has become this thing that just wears you down and makes you a semblance of what you used to be...Maybe not everyone feels like that, but I see it a lot in my family and family friends. It makes me sad. I mean, I know that when you have kids you're supposed to do everything you can to make sure your children are having the best life possible, even if that means you get pushed back into the fray. I completely agree with children coming first, but it still makes me sad that parents tend to feel the way that you feel right now."

Lauren's comment really made me stop and think, so much that I'm still thinking about it 5 weeks later. What's made me keep coming back to the topic is not so much what Lauren had to say, but what I've had to say -- on this blog, on Facebook, in real life -- about parenthood.

Yes, being a parent is hard and it means putting myself and my needs aside sometimes (often). But it's more blessing than burden and Lauren's comment has made me look at myself and the way I talk about the privilege of being a mother.

Can people -- especially my kids -- tell by my words and by my actions that I feel so lucky to be a mom? Because I do.

I feel blessed when one of my kids asks me if I'll snuggle up with them on the couch.

I feel lucky to be here to witness them learning new things, like riding a bike.

I swell with pride when another adult tells me that they appreciate my child's good nature.

I am humbled when one of my kids starts praying when an ambulance drives by, asks to go to church (that one doesn't happen very often), or in other ways show me that they are embracing the faith we're teaching.

I am grateful for the silly and witty things they say that bring joy and laughter to our home every day.
Being a mom is hard work, yes. But it's a job I've never regretted signing up for. I'm going to try to do a better job of showing that -- to my kids and to others, even if that means I'm pouring my heart out.

For more PYHO posts, head over to Shell's place at Things I Can't Say.

What does it mean to be a woman?

My friend Liz at Eternal Lizdom asked me to answer that question as part of a blog chain that she was starting, where several bloggers would answer the same question. I haven't read any of the other posts because I wanted my answer here to be solely my own. But it will be interesting to see if any of the other bloggers have similar feelings.

The first thing that came to mind when I thought about the question, "What does it mean to be a woman?" was that Enjoli commercial. "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, and never, never let you forget your a man..."

But that really doesn't have anything to do with how I view my own existence as a woman. Words that come to me when I think about the question include "responsibility" and "strength" and "connectedness."

I find it really hard to separate being a woman from being a mother. From the earliest days of my first pregnancy, I had a sense of the privilege it is to be a woman with child. To know that I was growing a baby deep within me. To feel the first flutters of movement. To see how my baby responded to music and noises on the outside. It was like a secret relationship, one that was mine to share with others or not. And I felt grateful that it was my experience to have.

Giving birth to Charlie put me in touch with the sense of power that was mine by virtue of my womanhood. All three of my children's births are special, but Annie and Robbie were born by c-section and I was a passive -- though quite interested -- onlooker. But Charlie's birth, a VBAC, was a physically, emotionally and spiritually powerful experience for me. An absolute gift.

Now that they are older, I am acutely aware of being responsible for the management and coordination of all the day to day activities of each of my kids. And I'm in touch with the frustration of trying to balance nurturing their souls and their personalities with making sure the homework gets done and they get to soccer practice on time.

But I know that being a woman is about more than being a mother. For me, it's about being connected. About wanting to know others' stories and wanting to share my own in return.

I never understood married women who insist that their husbands are their best friends. I love my husband, but there is something lifegiving in a different way about my relationships with my closest of girl friends. In a way, I feel sorry for men who don't seem to need or to want those kind of connections.

Being a woman brings with it, for me at least, a certain sense of spirituality. Not in an organized religion way, but in a more organic, cosmic sort of way.

It means having the choice to be strong and stoic or to break down and cry and not having anyone question me for doing either. It means being unsure that what I am doing is the right thing, but being courageous enough to go with my gut.

On a more practical level, being a woman means paying good money for a haircut and not feeling guilty about it (much), getting a pedicure as a treat for losing 10 pounds and thinking that there is nothing weird about ordering a Diet Coke with my fat-laden french fries. It's saying "I'm going to bed," but stopping to do the dishes or fold the laundry or make lunches for tomorrow before actually going upstairs.

To me, being a woman is chocolatey, curvy, freeing, heavy, joyful, mysterious. It is full of endless possibilities and limitless emotion.

It is who I am, in whatever way I choose to be.

How about you? What does being a woman mean to you? Leave a comment here or blog about it on your own blog. If you choose to post about it on your blog, leave your link in McLinky below. Be sure to visit Liz's post for her thoughts and for links to more ideas of what it means to be a woman.

This one's for the Moms

I hesitate to categorize myself as a "mommy blogger" because I feel like I am about so much more than just my children. But certainly, there is a definite mom-bent to my blog. And that's ok because I like being a mom and I'm grateful for the joy and laughter my kids bring to my life.

However, as kids do, they also bring laundry, dishes, and the need to be driven to practice and games (volleyball, volleyball, cheer, basketball, volleyball, cheer, basketball this week). They sometimes whine and argue and talk back. At least that's what I hear from my friends and neighbors.

Sometimes all of that leads to a little daydreaming about life where sleeping in exists. Where I get to eat dinner while it's still hot. Where I don't have to say such ridiculous things as "because I'm the mom and I said so."

And then, as if on cue, I happen on something that makes me smile and remember, "Yep. It's good to be a Mom."

Thanks Liz for that fun reminder today! Be sure to visit Eternal Lizdom for your reminder.