Here's to 29

Here I am entering the last year of my 20s and I feel like I'm in a really good place. I spent my 20s figuring out who I am. I lived in 3 states, got married, went to culinary school, and started a family. I've had my adventures and now I'm settling into domestic life. I know who I am and I know who I'm not. I've developed my own taste and found my voice. I'm not afraid to be myself and I'm not seeking anyone's approval.

I was having lunch with my college roommate last week and we were discussing our shared excitement over buying our first homes. "And you won't believe the linen closets!" she exclaimed. We laughed about being so thrilled about such a seemingly mundane thing. I'm so glad that this is where we are. We are able to enjoy the little things, without worrying about if we're "cool" enough. Let's be honest: I never was anyways. This place in life is so comfortable and real. I feel like I am able to be my most authentic self and I am thankful for the wonderful people in my life who have always accepted me as I am. 

I'm ready for the victory lap of my 20s. Let's do it!

Restaurant Life

In my life before children, I woked as a line cook for a fine dining restaurant in San Diego. I still keep in contact with some of my industry friends and am so proud of their successes. I can't help but wonder where I would be today if I hadn't left.  I had gradually climbed my way up the ladder, from prep to garde manger (salad) to fryer to sauté. I wouldn't trade my life for anything, but part of me will always miss the excitement of restaurant cooking. There is no high like that of working in a kitchen on a busy Friday night. I love the dance of the cooks, moving together in smooth synchronization to the frantic hum of the ticket machine, printing orders without pause. Your mind spins in anticipation. The kitchen reaches a fevered pitch as chef barks out the next pick up. You feel the sweat slowly trickle down your back as you find your rhythm: sauté, stock, butter, salt. You grind it out at a merciless pace for hours, until the last plate is done.  Then you methodically put away your mise en place, scrub down the kitchen, and head to the bar across the street. That first beer after an exhausting shift tastes so refreshing. The intensity of the night wears off as your senses dull a bit.  

 I miss the comraderie and the (mostly) friendly competition among the other cooks. I miss pushing myself physically and getting creative with the finest ingredients. Cooking is something that is either in your soul or it isn't. It will always be a part of me, even if the only kitchen that I cook in now is in my home. 

My Mom

 I'll admit that I haven't always appreciated my mom like I should.  The teen years saw many eye rolls and "Oh Mother"s. The older I get, the more I realize that she really is always right. Now that I'm a mom, I appreciate her even more.  She is the most amazing role model. She has the patience of a saint, and the cleanest most organized house I have ever seen. She can whip up an amazing meal on the fly, refinish furniture, and somehow she manages to do it all while looking so beautiful and put together. We used to joke that we had never seen my mother and Martha Stuart in the same room...that was before Martha went to jail...awkward...

My mom gives the best advice and carries herself with class and poise. She's the kind of mom I want to be and the woman against whom I measure myself.  I really don't know what we would do without her. She is the glue that holds our family together. 

Words always fail me to properly thank her for all that she has done for me and everything she means to our family, but here I try again: 

Thank you for always taking the time to talk with me. Whether it's giving me a pep talk to get through another day after a sleepless night or laughing together over the silliness of toddlers. 

Thank you for giving the best advice and for not telling me "I told you so" when I fail to take it. 

Thank you for not killing me as a colicky baby or a surly teenager. I've had my moments and you've loved me through them all. 

Thank you for always thinking of me, for text messages, cards, and care packages. 

Thank you for teaching me that a chocolate malt can fix almost any problem. 

Thank you for being a shining example of what it means to be a wife and mother. 

I love you Mom!  Happy Mothers Day!

To My Second Born

I see you sitting in your bouncy seat as you watch me prepare breakfast for your brother. You wait patiently for your turn. As our eyes meet across the kitchen, the biggest grin spreads across your face. You give a hopeful little coo, shake your head from side to side and chew on your hand in sheer excitement. You don't have the luxury of my full attention like your big brother did, but we have our stolen moments alone. Early in the morning before the sun is up, you sweetly babble while we snuggle. 

Quiet naps at home are a rarity for you, but you are content to sleep on the go as we run errands or go to play dates and the park.  I can't hold you all hours of the day as I have to attend to your brother. Many of your clothes and toys are hand me downs. 

There are a few advantages to being the second child. You have the benefit of my experience. I'm not as nervous with you. I don't panic when you start to cry. I've learned a few tricks, some mistakes not to remake, and a new theory or two to try. I remember little things like an extra change of clothes and a spare pacifier. 

You love watching your brother play and you're starting to interact with him more. You accept his rough but well intentioned kisses and endure the occasional bump from a flying toy. You have to be tough, you're a little brother. You adore one another and for that I am very grateful.  I spent many nights of hormonally fueled sobbing, worried about how you two would get along. 

You're only 3 months old, but it seems like you have always been part of our family. You are a little old soul who sighs deeply and furrows his brows, but you always have a smile for your mama.   Continue to be patient with me as I navigate this new role as mother of two. Know that while you have to wait sometimes to have your needs met, that you are never forgotten. You are so precious to me, sweet boy. 

Overcoming Mental Blocks

I've been practicing yoga for about 3 and a half years now. When I first started, I remember staring in awe as other students effortlessly performed some of the more complicated poses. They seemed to defy gravity and the laws of physics with such ease. I watched in amazement, while holding onto the belief that I would never be able to do that. As I have progressed in my practice, I have come to enjoy the challenge of learning a new pose, of being able to move my body in ways that I never thought possible. I have found that the key to mastering a tricky pose isn't about muscling my body into it, but rather letting go, finding lightness, and getting out of my head.  In yoga, as in life, the mental blocks are the most difficult to overcome. Very often, we are our own biggest obstacle. In order to grow, we must be willing to try new things and risk failing or looking silly. When we let go of our "I can't"s, we open ourselves to a world of possibility. 

Lady Magnet

Nothing in the world more quickly attracts a group of women like a new baby. Holding a baby is an open invitation for conversation. Logan is oblivious to his power as a lady magnet-an ability that he'll wish for in about 15 years!  Whether I'm at the grocery store, a restaurant, or church, women of all ages are eager to approach me, from little girls clutching their baby dolls to grandmothers with silver hair.

Elderly women are especially interested in seeing the baby. They offer time tested advice and sweet words of encouragement.  They share stories of their own babies now grown. I can see in their eyes that to them it doesn't seem like it was so long ago.  I imagine that there is something about being at the other end of life and wanting a glimpse of  the next generation with whom they leave the world. Babies represent unlimited possibility and hope for the future. As adults, we are defined by the choices that we have made, but babies offer a sense of renewal and a fresh start. They haven't made any life altering choices, shut any doors, burned any bridges. They know nothing of hatred, anger, or prejudice.  The future is in their tiny chubby hands and that is a powerful thing to witness. 

Parrot

Nothing makes you more aware of the words coming out of your mouth than a toddler who repeats everything he hears. I will admit to not having the cleanest mouth in my life BC (before children).  The restaurant industry is rough, to say the least. I've tried to clean it up as much as possible, but I've accidentally slipped the occasional expletive.

Listening to Carter speak is like holding up a mirror to myself. What phrases do I use so frequently that I am not even aware of them?  And how funny are some adult phrases when they come out of the mouth of a child?  Here are a few that I've heard Carter use:

Let's rock and roll!

Settle down. 

It's ok, Mama's here (used on both baby brother and the dogs!)

That's enough!

Good job!

Go for it!

One of my favorite things to do is to spy on Carter. Listening to him play make believe offers a glimpse into his mind.  I recognize phrases and snippets of his favorite shows, books, and songs. It's always fascinating to see what has stuck with him.  There are also things that surprise me. Where did he pick up some of these words? 

Sometimes I'll hear a phrase made unintelligible by his clumsy little toddler tongue. He'll repeat it frequently in the same context, so I know it means something to him. Despite turning it over in my mind again and again, I can't make sense of it. Then days later, we'll be watching a movie or reading a book and he'll repeat the phrase and it suddenly makes sense. One such example was "To infinity and beyond."  Thanks, Buzz Lightyear!