Raging, Ranting, Raving, and Rhapsodizing

Isabella woke up sort of angry today.  I don't know why, maybe she's just having one of those days.  I woke up pretty happy but it didn't take long for me to catch her mood and soon we were both grumpy.  I'm having one of those very-busy, cleaning-the-house, putting-dishes-away, please-can-you-just-play-by-yourself-like-you-did-yesterday kind of days.  But Isabella is having one of those I-need-you-to-hold-me-every-second-of-my-life-forever-but-I-also-want-you-to-put-me-down kind of days.  We are just not on the same page.

She signed "eat" so I sat her in her high chair and cut up some cherries for her.  She eagerly gobbled up every last one of them and signed "more."  I cut up a whole bunch more and went back to washing dishes.  She threw her cherries on the ground (on the carpet), reached her arms out toward me, and with the saddest most piteous look on her face, began to wail.  At this point, we'd already had many, many of these moments, I'd listened to so much whining, been followed around and grabbed at and cried at all morning.  I, hands wet and soapy, threw the cup I was cleaning into the sink, yanked her out of her seat, and plopped her on the ground.  "FINE.  If you don't want to eat, DON'T EAT. Just SIT THERE."

If you've ever thrown a fit back at a toddler who is throwing a fit, you know how super helpful it is.  As I cleaned up her cherries, finished the last of the dishes, and dried my hands, she cried louder and louder.  At this point it was obvious that she wasn't just frustrated that I had inexplicably given her the additional cherries she asked for.  I had treated her and spoken to her without love, I had become angry for a stupid reason, after little frustrations from the whole morning had built and built and built.  I could see so clearly in her face that I had really hurt her feelings.  My heart softened immediately.

"We've both had a hard morning.  Let's hit the reset button."

I set everything else aside and gently gathered her up.  We sat down on the couch together and she nursed and I could feel the tension draining from our muscles.  I talked to her as she nursed and told her how sorry I was for being angry and overreacting, for not being patient, and for not giving her grace.  I apologized for putting things and chores ahead of her needs, because the dishes will be there.  The laundry will be there.  But she will grow and change and these moments, these days when she craves my attention are precious.

She looked up at me, just looking into my eyes and me into hers, one of my most favorite things about breastfeeding.  She signed "nurse" and smiled and everything went back to being ok.

It's easy for me to let a bad few hours stick with me and before I know it the whole day has been horrible.  But not today.

I have a feeling I'm going to have to turn this into an ongoing series because I'm learning something new from my 16-month old daughter every day.  Today's lesson?

Sometimes, you just have to twirl.

We had gelato with my 6-year old nephew for his birthday at an outdoor shopping area, then spent some time splashing in a fountain and exploring an outdoor courtyard.  As we walked back to the car, Isabella abruptly stopped, raised her hands above her head, twirled twice, smiling all the while, and then continued walking.  She did it several times as we walked together.

It's a new thing she's been doing.  Sometimes she does it when someone says "dance."  Sometimes she does it when she hears music she likes.  She does it when she wants to express happiness (or so I guess).  Sometimes, she does it for what seems like no reason at all.  Regardless of the reason, it's always very intentional.

It's funny, twirling isn't something I ever taught Isabella how to do.  Whenever she does it, I wonder if it's something that comes ingrained in little girls.  She clearly finds it fun, and while I'm sure she enjoys our reaction (clapping, smiling, laughing, horray-ing), it's obvious that she twirls for her own enjoyment.

As I mentioned... I don't twirl.  I don't really dance, at all.  Honestly, not even for my own enjoyment when I'm all alone.  Why?

Because I'm an adult.  Mature.  Sensible.  Proud.  All the silly things I promised myself I would never become. Adults don't dance in public, just for fun.  They damn sure don't twirl.  But you know what?  Maybe they should.  And having a little girl gives me the perfect excuse to try it out.  :)

For many years I liked the idea of yoga, but every time I tried it I felt bored and unproductive.  I tried to be "serious" about yoga a few times because I thought it was cool.  But yoga, much like my vegetarian phase, fell by the wayside.  Then in the later months of my pregnancy with Isabella, as all my favorite forms of exercise became uncomfortable and then impossible, I increasingly turned to my prenatal yoga DVD. Through regular practice I discovered joy in slowing down and fully experiencing the present moment.

Now yoga has become a regular part of my life; I'm unrolling my mat 3 or 4 times a week and finding something new and wonderful on it every time.

I began to practice yoga regularly because of the physical benefits I believed I would experience.  While I've gained strength, flexibility, and balance, I've found the intangible benefits to be even greater. Many of the principles I'm learning on the mat are applicable to my mental and emotional health and, more importantly, to my spiritual life.


Focus brings Stability