New Panties

I just purchased $100 worth of new underwear.  I wanted the free shipping from Nordstrom Rack.  Now you know what my 16 pairs of panties look like.  

Because like many women, I have neglected to buy myself new undergarments for longer than I care to admit.  

I have been donning the same big, ol' grandma thong panties for more than a bit of time now.  Comfy, stretchy lace sides that don't ride up, and hug my mama muffin belly just so. 

Yet still make me feel like I haven't completely surrendered to my age.  

Like...look at me...not giving up completely.  Truth be told, no one is looking,  at anything.  Unless you count Tom :)

And so it seems that for months I have known I needed new underwear.  But by the same token, apparently had no problem sliding on stretched out undies that had holes in the them. 

Because the alternative was: Stop my life.  Research where to find the SAME panties.  Pay for said panties. 

It was then, I realized a central theme running rampant in the lives of not just me, but many women.   

Just the week before, while discussing victories for the week with friends, one sister mentioned she was proud of herself for purchasing new bras. We simultaneously cheered for her newly supported breasts!  

Another friend confessed she finally got to the Ob/Gyn appointment she had been putting off. Yet another WIN for a busy woman taking care of so many other people in her realm. 

And yet another friend, pulled the trigger on paying for and joining the YMCA. As she told me about getting into the pool for the first time in forever, she was filled with a childlike giddiness.  She almost elevated off the couch. 

We give and give, and yet, often don't give ourselves permission to buy new underwear, or bras, or get our very private areas checked, or pay money to join a gym.  

But see, it is a lot of work being us.  Mothers. Wives. Daughters. Sisters. Friends.  Workers.  Seekers. Survivors.

So let's make a pact, okay? Let's give ourselves permission to take care of ourselves. 

Let's stop pretending and hoping that our needs are not important.  Or what we want is not really that big of a deal.  Or that our kids need new and better things more than we do.  

Because the world needs us.  But first, we must fight for ourselves!

Feel free to utilize the permission slip below to justify any actions that may follow the reading of this blog.
____________________________________________________

Permission Slip 

I, _____________, hereby have  permission to _______________
____________________________________________________
____________________________________________________

I will do this by this date: _______________________________
because my wants and needs are just as important as everyone else.

With Love,
______________________

The Bumpy Road of Thriving

Often, thriving in my own life doesn’t exactly resemble the dictionary definition: to prosper; be fortunate or successful, to grow or develop vigorously; flourish.

Thriving in my life feels more like a teenager learning to drive.  It resembles a series of abrupt starts and stops, tummy turning twists and turns, sprinkled with a shit ton of unpredictability.

I am hoping for the best (getting out of the car unscathed), but prepared for the worst (a fiery crash is a real possibility).  And so I am extremely relieved when the car comes to a stop, and all is well (true story, with 3 teenage drivers in the house :)

But life doesn’t exactly lay out all these lessons to help us “flourish” nice and neat like.

How do we thrive while working (in a job we love or don't), while we are connecting in our relationships (with a spouse, child(ren), friends, animals), and regularly practicing self care (exercising, meditating, getting enough rest, eating healthy).

How do we truly thrive, when so often we are gulping for the very next breath of air? The times when we don’t feel like we are “growing”, but merely enduring?

Well, I have learned that thriving means asking for help. Not something that comes naturally or innately to me. Because I. Can. Get. It. All. Done. By. My. Self. No Michelle, you can't. It's okay, and such a godsend to accept this truth.

Thriving means falling back into uncertainty because I know it’s time to grow...like leaving a job I love, to grow my own business.  It both excites and terrifies me.

Thriving sounds like admitting I don’t know what the hell I am doing as a parent, as I standby feeling completely inadequate, as one or more of my children is suffering. (insert asking for help, here). Thus, sometimes thriving means letting sorrowful tears flow down my face as a release while I am alone in the car, or shower, or on the trail.

Thriving looks like having really difficult conversations with my husband about sex and money, when I don’t really want to have difficult conversations about sex and money. Thriving creates disharmony in our relationship, only to bring harmony in the end.

Thriving means getting down on the floor with Bo to stroke his soft black ears. Although his doggie breath is enough to kill me...the dishes, laundry, and sweeping can wait. The beast brings me peace.

Thriving means making my bed even when I don’t feel like it because I love pulling the covers back after a long day, and knowing my 4 inch memory foam awaits me.  And while we are on this topic, thriving means recognizing I'm worth the FOUR inch memory foam mattress topper (vs the 2-3 inch imposters).

Thriving means calling in reinforcements, like a dear Priest friend of ours at San Damiano, and asking him to pray over me. As he walks me through a guided meditation, my fists start to unclench, my jaw softens, and I remember for the first time in a long time, I am not forgotten. God's presence, like warm honey, envelops and comforts me. (I'll give you his number...)

Thriving means being quiet when things get loud, so I can listen to the whispers.

Despite circumstance, when we thrive,  we catch glimpses of wonder as life pushes us forward, and curiosity as it pulls us back, ready to “grow us vigorously”.

When things get tricky and unpredictable, other trusted souls will keep us steady.  During the loss of a loved one, severe depression, or unexpected injury, these kindreds will give us sure footing.

Whether it be by simply listening, crying with us, or making us double over with laughter because we are tired of the alternative. 

And when you think about it, all of this prospering, being fortunate or successful, growing or developing vigorously, and flourishing

is a lot of work!

So go ahead and take a nap...it means you're thriving, dear friend!

Hitched...

A Walk Down Memory Lane

23 years ago

Foxy introduces us at the Old Fashioned Butcher Shop and Deli.   I am 23, a college graduate with a teaching credential, but yet to find work. You are 36, have 2 kids, and are going through a divorce. My Mom doesn't know any of these details.  She also doesn't know that you have been praying for someone to love you "just as you are." I have been single for three years, holding out for a "good" guy. A guy who is solid. A guy who is worthy. You ask me out. I say, “Sure.” If nothing else, I figure it will be a free meal. My friends think I am crazy to be going out with such an old guy! Upon meeting you, they gush, "He's just perfect for you, Michelle." The wheels are set in motion.

22 years ago

You make the cut. We move in together.  I bumble my way into being a stepmom to Tommy and Katie, not sure if I'm doing anything right. I cry everyday my first year teaching 6th grade in the East Side.  It is far more challenging than I had imagined. Many days, you drive me to school, assuring me that it will be a better day than before.  You propose. You are more than a "good" guy. I say yes.

21 years ago

We get hitched at Holy Cross in Santa Cruz, vowing to make this thing work for the long haul. When Father Mike asks us if we will lovingly accept children from God, I practically shout from the altar, “ABSOLUTELY!”  You had a vasectomy 11 years prior, and we know full well that you will need to have a reversal if we are to be blessed with children. We know the odds may be stacked against us, but lean into our faith.

20 years ago

You go under the knife, and have the surgery.  We become pregnant...with TWINS!  We are stunned, shocked, and completely blown out of the water. It is a conversion moment for me.  Twins do not run in our family, nor did I hit any of the criteria for having twins. God heard that answer from the altar, and wasted no time!  

19 years ago

Abigail and Isabella join our family. Apparently, we think testing our marriage is a good idea, so we decide to do a remodel while raising teenagers and newborns. I am tandem nursing twins through all of this transition. Life is full of blessings and hardship simultaneously. My folks graciously invite all 6 of us to stay with them for a few months until the remodel is complete. When Abby and Bella have been fed, changed, and are put down for rest side by side in their crib, sometimes they wail. I think to myself, "What is all this fuss about? Play a game of cards with eachother." My dad, on the other hand, yells out from down the hall, "Papa loves you baby. Papa loves you. I'm coming to save you." I stop him, mid-save, many times.

18 years ago

I become pregnant again. And for some unknown reason, my dad develops circulatory issues. He becomes a below the knee amputee. The recovery is long and difficult. Often, I sneak the twins into the hospital to see him. Dad's goal is to learn how to walk with his "new leg" before Abby and Bella do. He succeeds. The girls are right behind.

17 years ago

Emma comes to join our family, born healthy and the biggest baby of all...8 lbs 2 oz.  I worry Abby and Bella will suffocate her with their hugs. When she's not nursing, I carry her in the sling on my body, to keep her safe from the love of her twin sisters.

16 years ago

There countless trips to the park.  I join Weight Watchers, and lose 100 pounds by Emma’s first birthday.  Although I shed the weight, I still have many years ahead of head and heart work.  I start therapy for my body image issues. You support me the entire time, unsure as to what "body image" really means.

15 years ago

I start to question how long my life will resemble the monotonous ground hog days of filling sippy cups, doling out goldfish, and changing poopy diapers. I am trying to potty train twins...I am failing miserably.  You are working a lot. I feel alone. We are committed to each other but our marriage is in a tough spot. We decide to go on a Marriage Encounter Weekend. We decide to do the hard work.

14 years ago

The Marriage Encounter Weekend is such a smashing success, we are delirious and decide to try for another baby! Cosette Francois Walsh joins our tribe.  With 4 kids under 5, I don’t really remember much more of this year.

13 years ago

The twins start Kindergarten, and it quickly becomes evident, that school is more than difficult for them.  We don’t know it yet, but discover later, that they each have Learning Disabilities. We will need to fight the school district to test them, in order to get the accommodations they need to succeed.  It feels like we have been sucker punched. Like someone told us we have damaged goods. There is a grieving of what I thought school would look like for them, and what the reality of the situation is. I put on my boxing gloves, and get ready to fight for the girls. This is the first time you realize, that you too, have undiagnosed Learning Disabilities. The years ahead will be filled with struggle and triumph. This is where my teaching background and kick ass and take names later attitude, gets put to the test. The District doesn't want to test the girls. Testing them costs money. I am not going anywhere. The girls get tested, and each receive a 504 Plan.

12 years ago

My parents leave Campbell and retire to Santa Rosa. It is weird for me to think of someone else living in my childhood home.  Swimming in the pool where I learned to swim. I miss my folks.

11 years ago

Tommy, who is now a Corpsman in the Navy, marries Molly Marie, whom we love.  WOW. Shit just got real. Our kid is grown and married. More importantly, we are so proud of the young man he has become, and the woman whom he now calls his wife.

10 years ago

I am late for my period and randomly decide to pee on a stick. Here comes unplanned baby number 5! I tell you while I'm folding your underwear. Shortly thereafter, the recession hits the country.  We file for bankruptcy. We don’t know if we will lose our home. So many things are uncertain. This is what we know:  as long as we will stick together, we will be okay.  This surprise baby could not have come at a more stressful time.

9 years ago

Our first grandbaby, Joseph, is born.  He's a little red headed Ginger. Charlotte is born later that same year, also a ginger.  Our grandbaby is older than our baby. We are just classy, like that. Although Charlotte is born healthy, she refuses to latch to my breast. She is deemed "failure to thrive", and I must make the trek to Santa Clara Kaiser daily, to ensure she is not losing too much weight. I start implementing formula in addition to pumping. During one of the many hospital trips, Cosette calls 911 explaining to the operator, yea, she has an emergency: she isn't the baby in our family anymore. You have another vasectomy.

8 years ago

We travel to South Carolina and witness Katie marry Joe! WOW.  Shit is getting super real. Now, two kids are married. We feel blessed that both of the kids have found partners who love and support them.  Our hearts are overflowing. Foxy holds down the fort while we're gone. We return home to an immaculate house, a fridge stocked with food, and 5 girls wondering why are Mom and Dad back already? I know first hand how hard it is to accomplish all of that.

7 years ago

Foxy is diagnosed with Cancer.  You ask me if I want to be with her.  I answer without hesitation: yes. I started making cannibis brownies on the regular...some for her, some for me.

6 years ago

You work and take care of all 5 girls so that I could be with Foxy in Santa Rosa, 3-4 days of the week at a time.  With the help of dear friends, you work to make this the new normal. The girls step up and do more chores without complaint. When I return home, I shop at Costco, go the basketball games, and do laundry. I am working hard to be present in two places at once. It is beyond difficult. Meanwhile, you are my rock.

5 years ago

After a two year battle with Cancer, Foxy goes Home.  There is an odd sense of relief that comes with the grief of losing her.  This is when I begin to truly understand what it feels like when a daughter no longer has a Mama.  You stand by my side. You allow me to weep. You give me permission to walk through my grief.

4 years ago

For the first time in our lives, all 5 girls are in school full time.  It feels wonderful and weird. I start to work more at Weight Watchers.  I feel as though God is molding me for the next step, but am unsure as to what that “thing” is.

3 years ago

Trump wins the election, and for the first time in our marriage, we discuss my own past history with sexual molestation and assault.  You voted for Trump, so it presents an especially delicate scenario. With this newly elected President, I feel as though I have been assaulted all over again.  You listen, patiently. It is difficult, but you listen. You hear and see and understand me, fully. There are many tears. We both are trying to wrap our heads around what to do next.  How do we follow our faith and stand in our values? What does that look like now, raising 5 daughters, with this new Commander in Chief? Something has been opened up in me. A thirst to gather with other women in community.  I start having small circle groups with about 6 friends once a month. We gather for support, unconditional love, and connection. I have no idea that God is prepping my heart for Village Well.

2 years ago

We pull the girls out of school and drive to Sonoma.  Your Mom is not doing well, with the dialysis no longer working.  We hold her head and her hands, and thank her for all that she had taught us.  With blurry vision and red-rimmed eyes, we say good-bye, just for now. There are many tears. She goes Home the next day.

1 year ago

The twins prepare to separate for the first time in their lives by attending different colleges.  Although both decide to play basketball, it is a new chapter in our family, minus one chick.  Village Well is born. I start hosting Workshops and Retreats. Finally, I realize what Spirit has been guiding me towards...

Later that same year, my dad loses his home in the Santa Rosa fires.  We are in shock and disbelief. Every momento that was left of my Mama, is now gone.  When people complain about the smoke here, I want to punch them in the face. But I don’t.  I understand that they just don’t realize, that they are smelling someone’s beloved baby blanket, and another person’s cherished photo album, and my mom’s wedding dress. They just don’t know. 

But you do.  

You listen to me, as I writhe back and forth, shaking with anger and confusion asking why?  Why my Dad, when he has already been through so much?  You don’t have any answers, and so you hold me.  You wipe my tears. You stay next to me, no words.  My rock.

Today

Your patience and presence with the girls (and me), your unwavering faith, and your openness and support of me in each and everything I do, astounds me.  

Our lives may be loud, unpredictable, and a wee bit messy, but there is one thing I know for sure: you are the one for me. My rock.

May God continue to bless us with many more years together.  Happy 21st Anniversary, babe. Thanks for putting up with my crazy.

I sure do love you.

I Lost 100 Pounds

And have kept it off for 16 years.  In.  A.  Row.

It has been a journey of learning the same lessons over and over, often through failure.  A journey of trying to be a role model for my daughters through actions, while biting my tongue.  A journey of overindulging, only to be followed by self forgiveness.  A journey of self acceptance, self love, and trusting myself.  And how that greedy lie of perfection tries to steamroll the divine grace of imperfection.  

The day before I gave birth to Emma, I weighed a little over 260 pounds.  I knew that after I had this baby, I needed to get control over my eating and my body.  

Three weeks later,  I stepped into a Weight Watchers and made a commitment.  My goal was to lose 100 lbs by Emma's first birthday.  In fact,  my actual real live thought bubble sounded like this:  "I will go to the meetings.  I will follow the rules.  I will walk regularly.  I will track my food.  I will lose the 100 pounds clinging to my body.  And then I will be happy."  

Reality of that first year: I went to the meetings.  I followed the rules.  I walked with a triple jogging stroller regularly.  I tracked my food.  I lost the 100 pounds that clung to my body.  And I was not happy.  

That, my friends, is when my therapy started. My unfolding of worthiness began.

  

My current body image thought bubble sounds like this:  You weigh 153 pounds and some change.   Your weight does not define you, and will never measure the fact that you are a child of God.  You are here to do some important shit.  You are here to shine.  There will be days when you eat peanut M and M's while wearing your pajama's in your closet, hiding from your family and life.  You have an opportunity to choose forgiveness of self when this happens.  Because it will happen.  

You know for a fact, you feel better about life when you move your ass on the daily.  You also know there will be days when you don't feel like moving said ass.  Do it anyways.  You will thank yourself later.  Keep practicing gratitude and self love.  There will days it flows through you like water in a crystal clear stream.  And days when that same stream is murky, and you are filled with negative self talk.  You are an emotional filled ambrosia and there will be some shit you would rather stuff with food, than feel.  Try to recognize your triggers of overwhelm, resentment, and frustration and honor those feelings.  Forgiveness will be a regular practice. Know your worth.  Don't settle and don't hustle. You know from experience, these behaviors don't deliver long term.

Keep trusting yourself...through meditation, by eating enough protein, by surrounding yourself with positive people.  

By channeling the Divine and Universal love that holds all, knows all, is all.

Keep choosing YOU.  Keep doing the work.  Keep showing up. 

Because you know what?    It is your birthright to be joyful and thriving.  

In fact, it is your God Damn superpower.  

Mama Tired.

You know how you have these chapters of motherhood that are just relentless?  Like one kid takes a turn, and then just as you come up for air, a different kid takes a dive. 

And you're like, "I was just catching up on Game of Thrones.  WTF is happening?"

Yeah, I'm having one of those spells right now.

 A loving friend just recently told me, "Wasn't it just a little easier when a juice box and a stroller ride could fix everything?" 

Yup, what she said.

When the girls were just wee littles, Mama was physically exhausted.  As they have grown, and matured, and morphed into the amazing women they are becoming, I am overcome with mental exhaustion.

I know and understand full well, that I do NOT have control over an outcome for my children, only my reaction to the situation.  Being a WW Coach, I also know and understand that I must take care of myself.  Easier said sometimes than actually done.

Shit I do for Self Care

*Pray

*Meditate

*Journal

*Exercise in nature on the daily

*Surround myself with positive folks who have my back

*Call a friend, rant

*Try to fuel my body with nutritious food

*Drink alcohol at the end of the day with my husband (sorry, not sorry)

*Pray

*Try really hard to stay in gratitude

And yet, still this motherhood feels heavy.  Like I'm wearing a cloak of lead, running a marathon.  I'm only on mile 3 man, and an unexpected storm has rolled in, and started to pelt me with rain.  I'm drenched and full of fatigue, while my lead cloak keeps sliding off, and I'm not sure how I will finish.  I've got a rugged 23.1 more miles to go. 

And then, I take a breath, and know I am not the first mother to experience anxiety, worry, frustration,  and/or wringing of the hands regarding my offspring.

My dad describes this part of parenting so on point by saying, "You are only as happy as your most unhappy child."  Yup, what he said.

Truth be told, these girls do not belong to Tom or myself.  They were given to us by God.  And well, I'm thinking perhaps there is a plan that I know nothing about.

I must trust that.  Fall back into that.  But oh my God, it's so hard sometimes.

Without going into any details, (for what little privacy they have left), I would like to humbly ask you for a little favor: please hold our family up in prayer, please hold us up in  unconditional love and grace, without judgement or speculation.

With gratitude, and thanks.

Amen.

Broken Glass

Have you ever just completely lost your shit with your kid, and then immediately regretted it?

Yeah, me either.  I was asking for a friend.

I was just trying to leave for the weekend.  Exit my homestead.  With my husband, who I am married to, but rarely get to hang out with without a million bajillion people around us that we created together alone.  I was just trying to put my luggage (a paper bag with a toothbrush in it because simplicity is best and fastest these days), when I noticed that Charlotte's toys, books, and what not, were spilling out of the vehicle and onto the pavement.  I hollered at her to clear out her belongings because I had to make room for my paper bag.

 As Charlie juggled all of her things, refusing to make two trips like I had suggested, her little freckled 8 year old hands lost the grip of a glass plate.  Just the day before, said glass plate had held a quesadilla.  And now it was all over my driveway.

I mean, I'm allowed to peel oranges which I consume while I steering with my knees.  But WTF?  Why are my people eating carbs and melted cheese in the backseat of my Prius?

As the plate hit the pavement, it smashed into a thousand pieces, many of the shards landing strategically under the tires.  Like they planned it that way.  Like they glass fragments had a huddle before disbursement and said, "Hey guys, you wanna see Michelle lose her MIND?  Make sure you spread far and wide, and land squarely under those big round rubber things.  She's trying to leave to hang out with her husband for a Married Couples Retreat.  C'mon, I guarantee this will be money."

My reaction sort of went as follows right after the plate dropped to the ground...

Me (clutching my paper bag): "OH MY GOD!!!!  I cannot even LEAVE without a DRAMA.  Look at this Charlie!  If you would have just made TWO trips, this could have been AVOIDED."

Charlie, stood deflated, stung by my words, hot tears starting to well the rims of her eyeballs: "Sorry Mama."

I brushed past her, flung open the front door, and stormed inside the house to grab the broom and dustpan, mumbling under my breath.

Emma, completely unaware of what had just gone down, was cheerily perched in the kitchen, baking a cake. "Hey Mama, I thought you had left with Daddy," she said, without even looking up.

Suddenly, she paused from her mixing and looked at me, sensing a predator was in close proximity.  She looked away quickly, averting eye contact, with an intuitive knowing that something horrible had happened out front.  She was too full of fear to ask what that horrible thing was, worried this T-Rex who had taken over her mother's body may consume her unbaked cake.  She decided for her own benefit, and that of her sisters, to say nothing more.  And so she continued to mix.

When Tom and I finally did leave, I confessed, "I hate leaving like that.  I mean, in the big picture, it was an accident.  And it's like I can hear the words fueled by anger coming out of my mouth, and I just can't stop them.  I hate it."  Tom just nodded, and simply said, "Yeah, babe."

That man...he's a god damn keeper.

Yesterday, I went to work, got a hike in, and then ran to Costco.  I make it home just in time to unload the groceries before grabbing Charlie from school. As I hurriedly opened the hatchback to the Prius, a jar of marinara sauce smashed into a million pieces onto the pavement.  I watched it fall, orange sauce spreading over my driveway, and had this thought, "Yep, that's what you get sister.  See?  Even a grown woman can have accidents.  It wasn't Charlie's fault when she dropped the plate."  My next thought was, "That jar of marinara was 7 bucks.  Shit."

Just then, Tom pulled up, realizing the irony of the situation and said, "I know you've got to get Charlie honey.  I'll clean that up for you."

God damn keeper.

Humbled yet once again by my children, and the ever present patience of my husband.   I will work on delivering grace with grace.  I will work on forgiving more easily.  It just feels better that way.  I can't say how long it's gonna take though.  Based on my record thus far, it may be awhile.  Sigh.

The Stockings

Last week, I stood brushing my teeth in my bathroom, half asleep, when I had this epiphany.  Still groggy, and not yet ready to face the day, this epiphany came.

Have you ever thought of something that is so completely obvious, and it has been obvious for quite some time, but for some reason it doesn't really "hit home".  Until it does.

And then it really does.

I remembered that I don't have a Christmas stocking.  I'm a 46 year old grown woman, preoccupied with raising my own family, with far too many children that all have their stockings hung by the chimney with care.  Beautiful hand made stockings, by the way, with intricate detail by my Auntie, as seen above.  In fact, I'm sure she sighed with relief when she realized Charlotte was our last baby :)

But my stocking, the one that my Mom hand made for me, with an iron-on Santa, back in the '70's? Like so many others, it was lost in the Santa Rosa fires.  

My brother Paul's stocking, that had an upside down felt Santa, with his head at the bottom and his feet at the top, with a bell next to his name, and a coffee stain across the middle of it?  No more.

My brother Matt's stocking, which hung in between Paul's and mine, with a bell at the corner of his felt Santa's hat?  Also gone.

My Dad's stocking which was decorated with a felt lion, and my mom's stocking, in the shape of a ladies boot lined with sparkly sequins?  All gone.

I have known this for over a year.  But all of a sudden, it hit me.  All five of the stockings that I grew up with, and knew so well, each for it's intricacies and details, are gone.  

At Christmas, every time I would travel from the kitchen down the hallway, towards my bedroom, there were our stockings, taped to the wall.  Yes, you read that right.  Mom taped them to the wall because, well, we didn't have a fireplace.  So the hallway wall it was!  Yo, Foxy was a problem solver. 

Our family also had two (and sometimes three) trees.  Don't judge :) The kids tree sat perched in the family room, resting on our orange and brown linoleum floor.  We adorned it with school made ornaments, like soldiers with crooked eyeballs, and snowmen with a shit ton of glitter, and threads strung with popcorn and cranberries.  It was a sight, and quite beautiful in my eyes.

The tree in the living room (a room designated solely for company), really belonged to my mom.  Foxy decorated that tree like it was straight up her job. Our nativity set, had a manger with a roof that was caving in.  If Jesus was to be born in a barn, it would definitely have a questionable roof that may or may not make it through Mary's labor, right?  Talk about realism!   The angel lay on top of the caved in roof, and although as a kid,  I would worry the angel might fall through, I was also strangely reassured that she could fly if things went sideways.  The manger was lovingly placed at the base of Foxy's tree. 

I would lay underneath the tree,  next to the manger, looking up through the branches, taking in the fresh pine smell and pastel lights strung up perfectly.  To this day, I prefer pastel lights to any other kind; they are calming and comforting.

And every time I passed the stockings taped to the hallway wall,  I would tap the bells.  Until eventually, the tape would wear loose, and the stockings would need to be secured with yet more tape.  Funny thing is, my mom never got frustrated about this.  I think she just knew that as kids: we had to tap those bells.

Paul, Matt and I tapped the bells as we made our way to our bedrooms down the hall.  We tapped those bells on our way to the kitchen because dinner was ready.  I tapped the bells on my way to the garage to put on my soccer cleats for practice.  Or on my way out the door, gussied up to go to the Christmas dance with a boy from another school (because teenage girls,  you NEVER date someone who goes to your school).   Too.  Much.  Drama.  

Those stockings were always there.  And now they are not.  I have the memories of what each one looked like, and tapping the bells.  The fire can't take those memories. 

At this point, whether in Santa Rosa, like my dad, down south, or beloved Paradise...we all know someone or someone who knows someone, who has lost everything.  So many sentimental trinkets (too many to count), hand made baby blankets, childhood pictures tucked away in a suitcase, and wedding dresses that were being saved for daughters or grand daughters or great grand daughters, all lost in the fires.  

And so, this is what I have learned:  cherish the small things.  remember the good things, and tender memories will replace the lost things, that can no longer be salvaged.

Take care of yourself and your tribe because, in the end, that is all that really matters.  That is a sacred, sacred bond.

And, take the time to tap the bells.  

Help a Sister Out

There has been something weighing on my heart.  Something I would like to share with you.  It is about a time, like many families, when we fell on financial hardship.  

It was the perfect  shit storm:  I had just discovered I was pregnant with (the best) surprise #5 baby ever. I told Tom while I was folding laundry.  He seemed genuinely excited.  But then, that's Tom Walsh Super Genius.  

But I  have this other distinct memory of sharing the "good news" with my Mom.  I braced myself by holding onto the kitchen counter, saying something like, "Mom, you'll never guess what..." and then I burst into tears.  She assured me, "Honey, it will be okay."  She was right.  Foxy was always right :)

At the same time, the recession was raging, leaving Tom's little carpet cleaning business suffering, like in a very bad way.  Some weeks, we didn't have grocery money, but somehow we always managed.  

We decided to file for bankruptcy.  But we told no one because there was so much shame.  We felt defeated and like we had failed our family.  And we were filled with so many overwhelming unanswered questions.  Would we be able to keep our home?  Would I need to go back to teaching full time, and if so, who would care for Charlotte?  

This is certainly not where I thought I would be in my late 30's...twin 10 year olds, an 8 year old, a 5 year old (who called 911 when we brought Charlie home from the hospital because she wasn't the baby anymore - true story), and a "failure to thrive" infant on my hip, who failed to nurse.  Looking back, I can almost attest to the fact that Charlotte was picking up on my nervous and stressed out energy, which is why she wouldn't latch to my breast.  We couldn't afford formula...this kid needed to breast feed!  She did learn eventually, but it left this Mama extremely depleted and wondering how I continued to fail my daughters.  

At one time or another, we have all asked ourselves a symphony of the following questions: How did I get here?  What am I supposed to learn from this? And when the fuck will it be over?

Tom and I hunkered down in our faith, and began to trust with really open hearts.  Because when you're broken, that's all you  have left.  We cut out all unnecessary expenses, and I mean everything.   I began trimming the girls hair on our front porch, and no one said anything mean about how crooked their bangs hung in front of their eyes. I was thankful for that. We frequented Happy Hollow because we had a Family Pass, and would walk the 3 blocks to park for free.  I began buying clothes for the girls for NEXT year from the clearance rack with the little money I did have, because those were the best deals.  We went to the library religiously, and I believe this is where the girls love of reading really began.  And we ate dinner at home nightly, with many meals made from ground turkey...spaghetti, chili, taco's.  My goal was to feed my family of 7 for under $10, and more times than not, I was successful.  

As women do, I got real resourceful, real quick.  

It was around this time, that I asked for a scholarship for the twins to participate in Girls on the Run:  a non-profit, girl power after school program.  It encompassed all of values and traits we were instilling in our daughters at home: being strong in mind and body, being a good friend, sticking up for people, using your voice.  The program ends with a million bajillion third through fifth graders running a 5K...and it is the cutest gosh darned thing you will ever witness.  Daddies and daughters running hand in hand, decked out with feather boa's.  Mama's jogging side by side their little mini me's...if you ever need a pick me up, I highly recommend checking it out.  

And it was there, after Abby, Bella and I completed our first 5K together, that I saw a booth for Athena Camps:  a girl power summer camp in its very first season.  Aby Ryan, the owner and founder, sat behind the table, and as we approached, I could just tell there was something special about her.  I inquired about camp and the cost.  I asked if there were scholarships available.  And this is what Aby did:  she allowed my girls go to camp for a week for FREE. 

I will never forget, holding Charlotte on my lap, Emma and Cozy at my feet, at the closing ceremony of Athena Camps that Friday, bawling with gratitude that my daughters had been given this opportunity.  Aby's kindness and generosity were life changing.

Fast forward 7 years, and guess where Abby and Bella were employed this last summer?  Athena Camps!  It was at this pivotal moment  and I realized the impact and importance of the full circle.  We had been helped, and now I want to give back. 

 My chapter of financial scarcity helped teach me this: simplicity is best, goodness in others is abundant, and love always wins.  Currently, Village Well is donation based, and I never ever want finances to prevent someone from attending. 

I would like to create a scholarship fund. I feel very called to have all women who want to come, be part of a Workshop or Retreat, regardless of finances. 

If this tugs at your heart like it does mine, please consider donating any amount of money to help a woman make a retreat or workshop.  I will take your donations and match them with my cost of time and materials.  And when I say any amount, I really mean it: whether its $5 or $100!  

I promise you will be making an immeasurable difference for another woman.  

If you would like to donate, please reach out to me at myvillagewell@gmail.com. You can also call or text me at (408) 832-0089.  

With Eternal Gratitude,

Michelle 

I Wore This Shirt

I wore this shirt as I picked up my happy go lucky, crazy red headed, snaggle toothed cutie from school yesterday.  I wore this shirt, as she held Bo on the leash as we crossed the street near the high school baseball field, making our way back towards our home.  

I wore this shirt, as we approached a man who was writing something on the dusty window of his truck.  "Oh," I thought, "He's leaving a message for someone."  I was right:  the message was for me.  TRUMP 2020, it said.  

I wore this shirt as I made direct eye contact and smiled at him.  In the very next parked vehicle, in a maroon minivan, a woman called out to me, "Excuse me, may I ask you a question?"  I wore this shirt, as I answered, "Of course."  

She asked me her question, but she wasn't really asking me, because she already knew the answer to her very own question, "So about your shirt...what does it mean?  Are you Pro Trump?" 

I paused and saw where she was trying to lead me.  The truck writing guy stood on the sidewalk behind us, arms folded across his chest, like a bully on the school yard.  

I wore this shirt as I calmly inhaled, and gently, but unwavering, answered, "I'm all about love."  

She looked at me befuddled, head cocked sideways.  I wasn't adding any fuel to her fire.  I was actively choosing not to engage in the shit storm that could possibly ensue, as my 7 year old and Black Lab waited on stand by. She wanted more, and obviously, was not prepared for my reply.  She continued to look at me, quizzically. 

So I added, "You see, Michelle Obama said this."  There wasn't but a moment before she unloaded, "Oh God, I can't stand those guys.  I hate all of them.  They make me crazy!"   I wore this shirt as I thought, she is full of angst and spite just from my very presence...enough to stop an at-home mom walking her seven year old home from school. 

I wore this shirt, as I gently leaned back away from her car, and said, "Well, have a wonderful day."  I walked away from the scene of the crime feeling like someone had deflated my balloon.  Like she hated me too, because essentially, that was what this perfect stranger was telling me even though we were just that: perfect strangers.  

I wore this shirt, as I drifted home, trying to have a "teachable moment" with Charlotte. I explained that "trump" is not just the last name of our President, but it has another meaning: to win over.  When folks have anger or are disrespectful towards us, we stand in our power, and own our truth by being honest, but kind and respectful.  I asked Charlie, "And how did Mama react?"  I wore this shirt, as my daughter answered, "You showed her kindness Mama.  You showed her love."  

I wore this shirt as I stood in my kitchen and thought, we cannot use blanket statements like "them" and "they", and "hate" and expect to truly see and hear one another. I bet truck writing guy and maroon minivan woman and I are far more alike than we are different.  And suddenly, I was overcome with sadness.  When will be able to come together?

 I wore this shirt as I wiped my eyes, and decided I will not be demeaned.  Or belittled.  Or bullied.  Or made to feel inferior.  

I wore this shirt as my daughter witnessed: love wins every God Damn time.  And I will continue to teach my daughters this, through my words, but most importantly, through my actions.

And I wore this shirt, as I gave myself permission to purchase more shirts :)

A Letter to My Daughters

My Daughters...

Abigail, Isabella, Emma, Cosette and sweet Charlotte,

I am not sure exactly why, but I have been gently nudged to write you a letter.  As I type it, I, myself, am not even really sure what I am supposed to tell you.  But my heart wisdom will exit my fingers, and find it's way out onto the keyboard hopefully, in a somewhat sensible manner.

First and above all else,  REMEMBER TO BE YOU, especially when those you know and love are standing with you.  But even more importantly, when others, stuck in their own insecurities, are forcibly pushing against you.  They may try to break you by saying you are too bright, too much, too big, or too outspoken.  When you feel scared or confused, remember where you come from:   a home full of love and light, where it is safe but messy, comfortable but cluttered, where all are welcomed.  A home that often smells of chili in the crock pot, and the scent of wet dog after Bo comes in from the rain.  Remember, that no matter what you do, positive or negative, struggle or triumph, big or small, my love for you will never, ever, ever change.  I am here to celebrate all of your successes, but more so,  to love you when you have failed, and are not sure if you have the strength to continue.

LISTEN TO YOUR INTUITION.  If something in your life is happening, and it doesn't feel quite right, and you can't seem to put your finger on it, that is God gently poking you, asking you to reassess the situation.  Don't be fearful to ask for guidance and courage to do the right thing.  And this right thing may be for you, but often, I have found in my own path,  it is for someone else.  This will be one of many  opportunities to be brave, and self-less.  Even if you feel unsure, remember that every step you have taken before this scary one, has prepared you for this exact moment.  Trust this truth.

TRY NEW THINGS! I am quite the simpleton...in how I pray, in what I eat, and how I move my body each day. But I want MORE for you! 

If your heart desires, jump off a bridge...SAFELY, and with a bungee cord, or course :) Learn to play a new instrument, and practice it, not caring if the music sounds horrendous as you master the strings or keys. If it fills up your spirit, play away. Sing...in the shower, up on stage, at a concert, off key, or while you're driving.  Use your voice to unleash the part of your soul that remains silent at times, for fear of being found out.  God gave you that voice before you even came here, and it is to be used!  Travel...on a sister pilgrimage to Nicaragua, to Europe to discover where our families came from, paying attention to the people who come into your path, and how there are no coincidences.   Remember that just by being you, amazing things will start to happen.  People are drawn to the light, and you are that!  For daddy and I, but for so many others. And you're not even aware of this gift.  You don't even understand that yet, but it's okay.  You are here to shine so that others may feel hope and joy and grace.  Don't worry, you're going to do just fine!

Remember, no matter what happens, YOU ARE DIVINELY AND UNIQUELY MADE.
I don't have any sisters myself, to show "how to do it".  In my own life, I have stumbled with arrogance, tripped with inflexibility, and made poor decisions due to lack of empathy and compassion.  I have questioned my Catholic faith, my Priest (sorry Father John), and my church.  I have fought against doing the right thing, because it was easier in the moment to be lazy and complacent.  I have made mistakes, but in time, have come to realize they were each my greatest teachers.

In due time, I will share these experiences with you, when I feel it is appropriate.   I firmly believe that by sharing the choices from my past that left me feeling shameful, unworthy, and unlovable, it will provide you the opportunity to choose differently in your own path. And to remind you that you are never alone, because Mama, too, is a work in progress.

 Above all,

May you drink in...

Joy and Grace in your thoughts.

Faith and Trust in your actions.

Love and Hope in your heart.

Courage and Truth in your abilities.

Strength and Humility from within.

You are worthy of all of this.  I love you.

Love,
Mama