I love the smell of old books and seeing notes on the edges of the page and highlighted areas, words and phrases that meant something to someone else. The crunch of fall leaves. I love raw and honest conversations that can catch two people off guard and the intimacy that occurs in those moments. I love hand written letters. I love being surprised, spontaneous, risky and feeling safe in someone’s arms. I love “heat,” the crackling sounds and smells that come from a wood stove. I love to feel challenged mentally and physically. I love to surprise others! I love blankets. Soft thick heavy blankets and being buried underneath them. I love getting dressed up every once in a while. But I can’t beat my love for yoga pants, Hudson jeans, and perfectly worn out sweatshirts. I love writing. I love exploring different environments – places I have never been, farms, fields, cities, and towns. Even more I love the high old growth trees that get lost in the sky, I love how they creak when the wind blows – the rain that drips from the needles… under these trees I would love a secret hideaway. The bottom of those timbers some what primitive. A ranch-style getaway like the one I grew up in. I love teaching. I love learning. Being inspired and inspiring others. I love sister trips and the Martin clan trips. I love watching my boys grow. A new love – watching them play basketball. I love that tipsy feeling where one let’s their walls down and becomes completely raw, they bare themselves naked. I love the way laughing with someone makes me feel. I love hot showers. I love rearranging furniture. All kinds of music…different cultures. I would love to take a year and travel with no certainty of where I might end up next. I love laughing, laughing in an intimate situation, sometimes quietly in inappropriate situations because that is the only way I will get through. I love my family. I love reconnecting with old friends and connecting with new ones. I love the depth of someone’s eyes. I love a good bottle of wine, lemon drops but my go to is beer. Hot tubs, walking in the rain, I love feeling loved without needing the words, I love looking through someone’s view of the world, their faith, life plan, and listening. Candlelight. Little spoons. Meeting a new person and feeling a connection in the first moments. Confidence but not arrogance. Swimming. Words. Volleyball. Cross-Fit. I love laying between the sheets. I love someone else making me coffee. I love a clean house. I love the smell of hops in August. I love taking life not to seriously – there is a time and place for all things in life but letting go and getting out of my head is indescribable. Being real. Being who I am and having courage without worrying about what others may think. I love the sound of an acoustic guitar. I love dive bars. I love being with someone when I can watch them drift to sleep. I love truly knowing someone. I love living!!
My son was sick this weekend. He didn’t have the flu but he had stabbing pains in his stomach and I couldn’t do anything about it. Even though my instincts told me told me that we just needed to wait it out, I couldn’t bare to watch him double over in pain. Austin wouldn’t eat, drink, and was lethargic. If you know my son, this is not him. He goes 100 miles an hour and that brain of his is always thinking of the next project, the next thing he can take a part and in his mind he always two steps ahead of where he currently stands.
I watched him like a hawk, a mother bear, or whatever you choose to relate this feeling too. Call me a mom who hovers but everything in me wanted to switch places with him. I sat next to him on the floor for hours, rubbed his head, and although he was laying on the couch fast asleep and I was on the floor and I feel asleep sitting up…our heads touching on the same pillow.
There is something about being a mother that bonds us to certain other mothers, puts us in this world or category that no one else can relate too accept other mothers. There is also something instinctive in our children that when they need something they go to their mother’s first. (Now, I am not saying children don’t go to their fathers because I still go to mine but there is something to mothers and their children and there is also something special between fathers and their children too.) I will put it out there and say that generally speaking: homework, discipline, food, clean clothes, hugs, whining, comfort, and getting my children to and from activities, and having sleepovers-are all activities I take part in actively in my home.
As my boys have gotten older and although I still do all the things above, they have shifted a lot of their focus to Dad. We live on a farm with endless amounts of new things to try. Both boys love this. Although they may not realize it now but as they get older they will realize that they were so blessed to grow up here. There isn’t any place they can’t go for miles around us, they know every trail, every nook in the trees, where the water is, and on four-wheelers everything is just better.
I watch my children discover new things in front of me. I see that twinkle in their eyes…and each new discovery somehow thrusts them into their next idea. Children are amazing little beings that if you nurture them, they will turn into brilliant adults!
For me, being a mother is the most important job in my life, there are things in my life I struggle with but those are easier to ignore when it comes to building up and nurturing my children.
Have you ever loved something so much it hurts??
Footnote: (Austin is healthy again and he decided it was gas and he needed to go #2)
Poker Face by Lady Gaga (*the only song I could find to run too.)
I am not a runner. I would rather do anything else in the world to exercise than run. The pounding of my feet on asphalt, joints in my knees slamming down into my ankles. However, if I was being chased, I think that would be different. But I am determined to keep trying to like running. This morning I woke early and the fresh smell of rain drew me outside.
Today, I needed more than yoga. But I am encouraged to work out by my friend, her personality, dedication, and attitude is awesome! She makes me want to do better. In my head, I am constantly challenged by her. Every time I have taken her class I feel like I can take on the world when I leave.
However, I didn’t want to drive to the gym so as the boys got on the bus I took off with my old shoes (old Nike’s, Austin has adopted because he now wears my size shoes), these shoes have been through it all, with a 12-year-old running around in them rain or shine.
After the rain last night, the soil is moist under foot and I start with a fast walk. The fresh air runs deep into my lungs as I inhale; waking me from a long slumber. The sky grey – it could rain. I start my run, really half run, half walk down the perfect isles of the hops that climb the twine to the sky. The row looks as if to drift into nowhere, I cannot see. Like looking out at the ocean – going on forever, you cannot see the end.
My shoes cake with moist soil and I keep lifting my legs and my feet get heavier. Running eight minutes and walking for 30 seconds – a goal I told myself I had to meet.
I am sure anyone watching me would think “what the hell, does she think she is running??” I feel less than graceful when I run. I continue down the perfect isles – up one, down the other, up another, down the other, this lasts about five rows. I walk toward the orchard. Circle it once for a cool down and head to the garage for my own personal unorganized rendition of a gym instructor where I lift weights – arms and legs…sit-ups and push-ups and finally, lay back onto my yoga mat that I rolled out on to the patio.
My chest rises and falls, I feel slightly exhilarated, burning in my arms, legs, and abs, and I close my eyes. I look up to the grey sky and my to do list floods in. A few more deep breaths. I am calm, relaxed and without notice I feel Halo’s paw sharply jammed into my stomach, on my chest and a big slobbery kiss on my cheek. That’s one way to finish a workout! Happy Monday!