love and maui'age.

i recently got married.
again.
but in many ways
for the first time...

* * *

my guy actually proposed to me
while we were still in high school.
i was eighteen and folding clothes for a living
he was fresh out of boot camp and slinging cell phones across the way.

i remember the night he proposed to me...

he took me to a footbridge located
(in of all places)
the cemetery.
he had blindfolded me
and driven me all over town
in a [successful] effort to
get me lost.
once we arrived
he took me by the hand
led me to the bridge
and sat me down.

i remember him taking off my blindfold.
i remember the headlights of the nissan making the small ring shine.
i remember him on his knee.
i remember him shaking.
i remember saying 'yes'.

the first white dress i ever wore with him.

and so it was that while most girls my age
were rushing sororities
i was flipping through "Bride" magazine
trying to figure out how to get married.

looking back
i should have worried more about how to be married.

circa 2001.

ten years have passed since our carefully planned ceremony
with the flowers
the dress
the guests
the tuxes
the DJ
the meal
the cake
the family
the church

* * * *

after ten years
we've learned a lot about ourselves
as individuals
as a couple
as friends
as parents
as partners.

we are simple
both of us
we spend our date nights at barnes and noble
we hold hands as we follow our kid around the block
we call each other to the window when the sunset is particularly beautiful
we bang our heads to old journey songs
we can't wait to see each other at the end of the day
we encourage each other's passions
we savor each other's smiles

the last ten years have tested our vows
but we have held tight
for better
for worse
and it only seemed right
that we revisit those vows
that were drowned out by the flowers
the music
the candles
the dress
the guests
the hall
the centerpieces
and this time...

...this time they were ours
for us
and not even the waves
could drown them out.

he is my aloha.
he is my love.
and i can't wait to see what the next ten will bring.

E ka Haku, e kokua mai ia maua e ho'omana'o i ka

manawa a maua i launa mua ai,

a me ke aloha i komo i loko o maua.

E ola mau kela aloha

i na kau a kau.

Ke nonoi ha'aha'a nei maua i na hua'olelo'olu'olu

i piha i ke aloha

a no na pu'uwai makaukau mau e noi i ka huikala

a e huikala aku.

E ka Haku, ke waiho nei maua i ko maua male 'ana i loko

o kou lima.

'Amene.

go well.

number 25 results in numbers 2, 21 and 24.

life keeps reminding me of these.
this one has been especially noticeable as of late:

25. i am easily prone to distraction, procrastination and overstimulation.

recently, a string of choices has left me with
little to no time for myself.
my choices.
choices like working out into bedtime
and spending waking hours playing with my girl
and taking weekend trips
or making weekend plans.

some of these have been necessary...
some less necessary.
regardless of the necessity
though
it has left me searching for

2. create moments of connection within yourself

while loading groceries into the car
during the 90 second drive from daycare to school
and moments like these
in my darkened classroom.

this is not nearly enough time for a girl
who suffers
from number 25.

in fact
it typically leads to a lack of

21. it is essential to find something positive in each person you encounter 

and

24. i am a better version of myself when i get to be alone with myself for awhile.

so.
last night in yoga
our intention for the evening
was goals.

now
my teacher intended for this to be a time
for us to set yogic goals for ourselves;
a pose we have yet to master
(crane, king pigeon, independent handstands)
or something else related to yoga
(practicing without pain)

and while i do have one many poses
i want very desperately to master
my 'goal'
went beyond asanas.

my goal
is to be
a better yogi
internally.
my goal
is to radiate
optimism and positivity
my goal
is to live a life
by example
and radiate
enthusiasm
happiness
and openness.

but number 25 results in a lack of numbers 2, 21 and 24.

so.
i guess i have to start small
and say
that my goal
is to eliminate
the distraction
the procrastination
and the overstimulation
that come with
number 25
so that i can practice
number 2
number 21
number 24.

and then
maybe i'll float into bakasana
and ultimately
tittibhasana.

go well.

number 8.

in my previous post
i discussed 30 of my life lessons
as a way of stepping into
my 30th year.

one of the lessons though
that i feel very strongly about
was number
8.

yoga heals.

i have spoken about yoga
in previous posts
but as i was going through photos recently
i realized just how much
yoga has impacted my life
especially since the accident.

but let's go back
for a moment
if you'll bear with me
so that i can take you
to the root of this passion
and the beginning of this lesson.

* * *

i was not a 'sporty' kid.
i was a band geek.
i was a show choir freak.
i was a national honor society kid.

'physical' was a noun
not a verb.
i made sure that i loaded up on classes
so that i could opt out of PE my
sophomore
junior
and senior year.

when i entered college
my lack of physical activity
led to the freshman 15...20...25.
i smoked.
i drank.
i ate a lot of peanut butter straight from the jar
and a 'healthy meal' usually came from subway
or the campus salad bar (complete with chik-fil-a).
the most activity i got
was the time i spent walking from my dorm or car
to class.

* * *

i remember my discovery of yoga.
i was up early one day
cramming in a last minute paper
while chain smoking my marlboros
and channel surfing
when i stumbled upon
steve ross' inhale
bob marley playing the background
everyone smiling
moving
sweating
and i thought to myself
'i could totally do this'.

and so it became a part of my morning routine
to rise
light some candles
and yoga it up
with steve and company.

and so it was
at that point
that yoga
grabbed hold of my soul.

* * *

four years later
after becoming tired of practicing my yoga
in front of the television
i decided to search for a studio
to enrich my experience.

there was a part of me
that worried i had been doing it
all wrong
all these years.

i stumbled upon fusion
local
hip
open to all levels

and so i stepped out of my box
and into a studio
where marsha
took my love of yoga
and blew it up into a passion.

* * *

fast forward.
34 weeks pregnant.
broken.
practicing recliner style yoga
with one leg.
i remember being so afraid
that this was the end of my yogic journey.

* * *

in august 2008
six months post-accident
four months postpartum
a flier from my mother
led me to OHM
and to nancy
and to my mat.

as i looked at pictures of that time
i am remembering just how difficult it was...

my knees no longer bent
and standing up was a battle
i remember taking that picture
of my punkin
on the pumpkin
and afterward
having to hand her to bill
so that i could brace myself
and pull myself upright
with my arms.

in yoga class
i could not perform simple poses
that had once come so easily.
i still maintained a great deal of flexibility
but i became frustrated with my body's
inability to cooperate.

but
i
did
not
stop.

* * *

two years
and many yoga classes
later
i have found my inner yogi once again
and embraced her like a long-lost friend

i have balance.
i have energy.
i have improved perspective.
i have improved mobility.

i can bend my knees.
i can stand on one foot.

 i can put my right leg behind my head.
i can find peace in poses
that once caused discomfort.

i can bend low to the ground
with my girl
and raise myself up
on two legs
without anything
or anyone to hold onto.

yoga has taught me
more about me
than i ever realized could be learned
in the space created
during savasana

yoga heals.

and not just physically
but mentally
and spiritually.

* * *

so thank you
steve ross
john friend
marsha nieland
and
nancy bright
for being my teachers
my gurus
for truly your teachings brought me out of
the darkness of ignorance
into the light of knowledge.

my yogic journey
is a never ending
constantly evolving
trek
and i am so thankful
i get to experience it.

namaste
and
go well.

30 lessons OR chapter 30 part 2.

i have marked my 30th year
here.

its a very strange number for me to wear
because so often
i still feel i wear the insecurities
and uncertainties
of 18.

for example.

when i got pregnant
i was fearful i would be 'judged' for being too young
and then realized that i had nearly seven years of marriage under me
and 26 years of life.

or when i get called down to the principal's office...
still makes me feel like i'm wearing 18
and being called in for having missed choir.

and when my guy kisses me
it makes me feel 18 and silly
all over again.

the truth is
there are a lot of truths i have not uncovered
that i thought i would have uncovered
by the time i donned 30.

and the pieces that make me me
are still scattered on the floor
but as i look at the big picture
i realize that the puzzle is more complete now
than it was a year ago
three years ago
twelve years ago...

and so.
i wanted to take this time
and mark my 30th year
with 30 (of the many) lessons
i have learned
some on my own
some with the help of others.

1. experience your children.
2. create moments of connection within yourself.
3. exercise and eat your vegetables...organic ones if possible.
4. coffee is good for you (and ultimately saves the lives of many students/spouses/children)
5. create, listen to and dance to music; at least one of these once a day.
6. make time to hold your love and share quiet conversations in whatever moments you can find.
7. our bodies are vessels; vessels of strength, health and love.  they are also canvases that you can adorn with ink, scars and laugh lines.
8. yoga heals.
9. you cannot change people.  you can only change the way you respond to them (thanks, mom.)
10. it is important to never go to bed angry (thanks, dad.)
11. be creative.  draw, paint, scrapbook, knit, write, photograph, move furniture...whatever it is, do it.
12. live for today; let the road carry you and be willing to abandon your 'plans'.
13. despite number 12, it is also important to note that there is value to be found in routine and consistency.
14. giving is far more rewarding and fulfilling than getting.
15. age happens.  and that's okay.
16. forgive.  (i'm still working on this one.)
17. tofu kinda rocks my world.  
18. embrace animals into your family.  
19. no matter what, nothing is ever that bad (again, thanks dad.)
20. i am not what happened to me.  i am what i choose to become (thank you, jung.)
21. it is important essential to find something positive in each person you encounter (still working on this one too, in some cases.)
22. date night is a must.  date days are even better.  date weeks are off the charts.  it is important for your child(ren) to see you and your significant other do things together...without them.
23. God is good.
24. i am a better version of myself when i get to be alone with myself for awhile.
25. i am easily prone to distraction, procrastination and overstimulation.  
26. do not be afraid of how the world perceives you.  be you anyway.
27. it is important to read lots of stuff.  magazines, smutty novels, classics, memoirs, stereo directions.  read read read.
28. recycle (both physically and literally.  aluminum cans, glass, newspapers, dreams, taste in music, skinny jeans...whatever the case may be.)
29. never lose a moment to tell someone you love them.
30. live every day like it is your last. 

i realize that the last one is a bit cliche. 

but after that moment

two years ago

when we nearly lost it all...

i hang onto each breath i get

each hug that comes from my girl

each kiss from my guy

each giggle shared between family.

i have so much left to learn

but am so thankful for the lessons i can pocket

and hand down.

to another year

full of

kisses

hugs

giggles

down dogs

cups of coffee

cold wet noses

date nights

game nights

sick days

cartoons

balls of yarn

snuggles

experiences

love

and 

lessons.

 

go well.

life lessons: be nice.

i've had life lessons on my mind.
the ones i have learned
the ones i want to teach 
my sweet girl.

some of this stems from being a teacher.
day after day
i'm exposed to children
who teach me how to be a better parent.
day after day
i'm exposed to adults
who show me how not to parent teach me how to be a better parent.

leaving school yesterday
on my way to retrieve charlie
it occurred to me;
it is so much easier
to be mean
than it is
to be nice.

some things we have been working on
in our daily interactions with our one-year old are
nice hands
nice words
nice feet.

this is reinforced at daycare with her teachers
and friends
nice hands
nice words
nice feet.

obviously, being nice is something we are trying to model.
it's something i also try to model for my students
as i praise them for work completed
encourage them when work is not completed
gently remind them to get out a pencil (for the fifth time in five minutes)
and pat them on the back when they just don't get it.
this may sound all peachy keen
but i assure you;
it.
is.
hard.
when the student who has done nothing all year
continues to do nothing
doesn't have a pencil
and has no idea what you are talking about
it.
is.
hard.
to pull them aside
pat them on the back
and find something good.

when the student who yells down the hallway
about her latest sexcapade
screams at you for looking at her across the room
and refuses to follow directions
it.
is.
hard.
to smile at her
tell her what a fantastic person she is
and hope that she will find her way.

when the smelly kid
is constantly raising his hand
and emitting a blue fog
from the shirt that hasn't been washed in a week
it.
is.
hard.
to find it within yourself to keep going over
lean over the desk
and help with yet another math problem.

the thing is
my job is to work with this population
but i see the looks
from the other students
i watch as they move just a few inches more away
or roll their eyes when the student passes by
or walk right by without even realizing that a person is standing there.

and i remember being that age
and doing those same things.

i have even come to the realization
that even today
i roll my eyes when certain co-workers approach my room
i cringe at the sound of another's voice
i beat my head in frustration when i have to hear
the same complaints
from the same people
and sometimes
i lose track of my filter.

even now
being nice...
it.
is.
hard.

but now
more than ever
it is crucial that i polish this skill
and practice courtesy
and graciousness.

sweet girl
know this:

the things in life that are the hardest to perform
yield results that far exceed the easy things in life.

being nice...
it.
is.
hard.
but if you succeed
you will leave two someones in far better shape
than you found them.

nice hands.
nice words.
nice feet.
to everyone
all of the time.

all my love, sweet girl.
go well.

stitches for my sweet girl.

when your daddy and i found out that i was pregnant, the first thing i wanted to do was run to the bookstore and find the nicest, biggest journal i could find so that could document every moment of this journey.

with your daddy's help, i picked out a large, plain, brown leather, hardback book with the word "JOURNAL" neatly embossed on the cover. it had hundreds of empty pages just waiting to be filled with the details of your growth.

i set to work immediately recording the reactions of your daddy and other family to the news of your impending arrival. i pasted "You're Expecting" cards in the pages and reserved other pages for your first baby pictures.

i was certain that i would document every moment over the course of the next eight months.

i didn't anticipate the lethargy that crept in in week eight of the pregnancy.

my lack of anticipation to the way my body would react to this pregnancy led to many empty pages and before i knew it, it was november and i had missed key moments in your development. the journal quietly got filed into a dresser along with my intentions.

i have thought about that journal often in the last few weeks and months, sitting idly in a dresser in a room in a home that is no longer the house we live in. you see, my sweet girl, despite all our best intentions and efforts, sometimes life steers us down another road. that is exactly what happened on easter morning. when your daddy and i were sent careening down that embankment, our lives - your life - changed course in an instant.

i have had a great deal of time to think in the last three plus weeks. most of my thinking comes between the hours of 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning when my leg wakes me up and i can't get back to sleep. i suppose the pain is a means of preparing me for those times when you will wake me to be fed or changed or loved.

lying in bed, i often work on the baby blanket i started for you nearly eight months ago. i started the blanket to assist me in my efforts to quit smoking once i found out you were on your way. fortunately for me, you took care of my cravings and quitting was easy. and so, like the journal, the blanket became neglected. however, the pain in my leg necessitates something that requires minimal thought and lots of attention, so i am hopeful (once again) to have the blanket completed before you arrive.

and with every stitch, i think.
with every stitch, i pray.
with every stitch, i anticipate your arrival.

last night, as i stitched for you, i decided i wanted to make up for all those empty pages. the journal still sits in the dresser, but i have this small window to the world, this little corner in the wires and decided that not only would i use this to whisper to you, but i would share this with all of those people who have been praying for you alongside your daddy and me.

so begins a series of letters for you, my sweet girl.
each one of them has already been stitched into your blanket.