when shopping isn’t enough

there are moments when i lose myself – become lost in who and where i imagine i should be.  sometimes, my vivid imagination propels me to do useful things, like my ph.d for example, but other times my imagination has me convinced that everyone else’s life is better than mine. that is precisely when i feel lost. it’s also usually when i begin to want things instead of treasuring the things, people, and experiences that shape my everyday life.

i’ve been lost lately. caught up in a tailspin. thankfully, a few weeks ago the wind began to die down and now i can feel my feet gently, firmly touching the ground again; i’m sharing meaningful words with loved ones instead of shopping online in fits of retail therapy.  finding myself anew – mother of two, wife, friend, sister, artist, scholar.  i am simplifying my life. and that includes returning the pair of gorgeous boots i bought online without ever figuring out how i’d pay for them.

aug 23 2013

okay, i didn’t buy these but could you imagine…

so yes

life is good

and so are lenient return policies.

xxo,

nkm_flower

 

 

domestic disorder

As I type this, my four-month-old son is learning an invaluable lesson – how to put himself back to sleep.  One of the consequences of this lesson?  It’s 3:13 am and he’s crying.  This is day nine of sleep training, a process in which caregivers attempt the seemingly innocuous task of teaching children to self-soothe (which means put themselves back to sleep).  But sleep training is no different than most things associated with parenting.  As I said in my TEDx talk, I’m learning that parenting has little to do with the child and a whole lot to do with the parent.  My son expressed no desire to learn to self-soothe.  He seems quite content to be nursed, rocked or held until he falls asleep. This sleep training bonanza is unequivocally for me.  I desperately need to sleep through the night again and that is only possible if he’s sleeping too.

My son is still crying and I am still tired.

Years ago I heard a man say in an interview that being a father meant accepting that he would fail every single day.  Being a mother has required me to accept that too.