Getting ready for tomorrow night's ArtTalk with the Kimball Art Center.  It's funny how different this feels than when I prepare for a show.  I've been putting together setlists and players and gear checklists for so long that it's second nature.  This feels a lot harder!

Mark's experiences with Toastmasters has made me really sensitive to things like how many times I use 'umm' or 'uhh' in between real words.  And Tim Koegel's (great) book on presenting that I read awhile back is making me wonder if I will revert to the 'fig leaf', 'T-Rex,' or 'hands in a steeple' poses that people tend to when they're in front of an audience.  I sense that the T-Rex could be a problem.  

And what to wear?  Businesssy presenting suit?  Creative artsy flowy fabulousness?  Park City jeans and a sweater? (insert Marge Simpson quiet grumble here.)

The good part is that when my stress starts rising, I find myself literally turning to some of the tools that we're going to talk about tomorrow.  Jumping to the Finale -- the end result feeling of relief, delight, and gratitude. Remembering that there's a significant purpose I'm drawn to doing this;  it has a ready gift in it that will unfold. Appreciating the power of a little deadline -- I needed to get these thoughts organized for this kind of thing anyway for when the book comes out.  Might as well take the opportunity now.  And then there's the fun bonus. . . I'll get to see people I haven't seen in ages from my hermit-like writing life of the last year.  

So I'll keep getting ready.  And getting excited.  And hopefully at 9 p.m. tomorrow night, I'll have some great stories to share about how well it all went!

Five Things I'm Thankful For Today:

1.  That people are coming tomorrow night!   The only thing worse that being nervous about something is finding out later that you were nervous for NOTHING.
2.  That the radio interviews went well with Randy last night and Leslie Thatcher this morning. 
3.  Yummy white mocha here at Alpine Internet Cafe.  And that amazing smelling bagel in the toaster.  Might have to get one.
4.  The nice conversation I had with my brother Billy yesterday.
5.  Daisy snuggling with us so sweetly this morning.  

I'm pretty excited to be speaking at the Kimball's Art Talk series next Thursday night.  It's only supposed to last about 1 to 1.5 hours, so I have some serious compressing to do in order to cover what I'd like to do.  

Turned in the final galley edits to my book today.  It looks amazing.  Not too many last minute changes, which will make a whole multitude of people in the production editing office happy, I think.  It's tough, though, letting go of your babies . . . sending them off on their ways to become what they're meant to become.  

Lots of deep thoughts lately, no time whatsoever to get them down.  More later!

Thanks for coming by, 
mb

For a new moon Sunday, I can't say things kicked off to a stellar start.

Lillian kicked my butt at Scrabble.  Three games won, she spared me more trouncing by packing up the board and calling it a night. Meant to get over to Ulta to check out the latest step-up-from-the-drugstore cosmetics, but fell asleep during meditation instead and slept for two and a half hours.  In jeans.  (But it was a nice nap!)  Daisy's calling me right now -- sweetly, but loudly --  "Mommmmmy.....Mommmmmmy...."   I remember when she said DaDa all the time and never called me -- her primary caregiver -- by name.  She seems to have the hang of it these days.  

I usually take a few moments and write out my intentions for the next month when the new moon comes around.  It's always a good time to reflect and make a few decisions, but today the feeling just wasn't there.  (Again, the nap just seemed more pressing.)  I don't know what the official theme of this month is, but I can tell you our theme around chez Maziarz is going to be "Get the crap out of the house and get ready for a cozy, beautiful, creative winter."  Or something like that...  : )

Ah, Mad Men.  The respite of 1963, right here in our own remote controlled, Tivo-ed living rooms.  I'm fairly sure Mark and I are going to be Don and Betty Draper for Halloween if Mark can find a studly enough suit.  Me?  I got Betty Draper any night of the week in my closet. I love the vintage vibe. 

I'm not sure if the era of the early sixties is more simple or more complicated that the one we live in now.  Civil rights, women's liberation, sexual mores, workplace politics...is it really really better, or is modern culture better at hiding the inconsistencies, the problems?  Are we just keeping different things under the rug than the stuff that used to be there?  I don't know.  I'm really asking. 

Lillian asked the other day -- rhetorically, but also really, I think -- if anyone is really happy.  I keep thinking about it.   At dinner the other night, everyone discussed the antidepressants they've tried or are taking.  Grandparents, kids, dogs...is there anyone who isn't on something?  Or should I say, is anyone who's not on something happy?  In my cynical moments, I'm not sure.  Utah has the highest percentage of women on antidepressants in the country.  And we've got mountains, skiing, hiking, red rock canyons, fresh air, healthy industry -- what else could we want?  [Well, I guess the freedom to speak your truth.  In some Utah cultures, that one doesn't necessarily fly.]

In a recent O Magazine, Martha Beck writes about 'culprit issues' -- the ones we like to believe are the real root of our sadness or problems -- and how it's usually an illusion.  We're fat -- but if we weren't fat, everything would be perfect, right?  Our families make us nuts.  If we'd only been born to a more functional, normal family, we'd be able to handle everything that comes our way.  I guess it can be whatever.  So now I'm looking around me, listening carefully to both my own words and those of others, sorting out whether there are actually culprit issues at work all over the place.  Are they chronic?  Do we all take on serial issues from time to time?  Is this just life -- not reducible to a psychological life-coachy theory?  I'm not sure yet.  But as usual, Martha hits so close to home that I can barely dive in to the article at first flip through the magazine.  

Sometimes I suspect that the time and energy freed by modern conveniences has backfired on us a little.  Innovators imagined that humanity would do what?  The goal was never to make life so easy that we just sit around all day, was it?  Perhaps the hope was for people to think deeper thoughts, help others more, relieve suffering....surely we're meant to do something great with the extra hours and efforts saved by things like dishwashers and computers and cars.  Do we?  Maybe the key is to make sure that the way we spend the time and energy available to us is worthy of our best selves.  We must remember that we are not removed from the need for effort and time itself.  It feels good when we work out;  our bodies are happy to know what they can do.  When we cultivate a garden, we find more pleasure and pride in it than in the perhaps more aesthetically perfect work of professional landscapers.  We must find good work that we like to do.  Right livelihood.  We must sweat.  We must play on the floor with our kids.  We must make things with our hands that matter to somebody, even if that somebody is only us.  

Okay, so I guess I have an intention after all for this new moon.  I want to emerge from the world of my head and to engage in the world of the body, the heart, the hands more everyday.  And I want to notice when I'm happy, just as often as I note the times I'm not.

Today I'm Thankful For:
1.  New flavors at Starbucks.  Harvest Spice White Mocha and Toasted Marshmallow Latte, I can barely WAIT to try you.  (Though I do wonder if Starby's read my Tweets.  I've been having the baristas mix pumpkin spice and white chocolate for my lattes since September and freely commenting about it online.)
2.  Cool artists like Jeffery Lautenslager, whom Mark and I met in Encinitas after sending him an email about one of his amazing kinetic sculptures that we saw from the beach.  
3.  The internet.  That allowed us to find out the artist of that sculpture in about two minutes of Googling.
4.  To be going home tomorrow after a nice trip.  It always feels good to be home.  
5.  For my sweet nephew Quinn.  

Mark and I were talking on the way down in the car yesterday about blogging, and where it shakes out in the big picture of stuff to do and ways to connect with people.  I've decided that I might do better to write more often with less fanfare, less wring-the-depths-out-of-my-spirit about the whole thing.  So that's the new plan. 

Sometimes I read too many blogs/tweets/facebook posts in a row that have no apparent cultural or newsworthy value, and I start wondering why why why? are all these people feeling that it's interesting or important for others to know that the writer is standing in line somewhere, or not liking some celebrity's hair, or thinking about the changes in the weather.  It makes me worry that I am more self-indulgent in my posts than is savory.  I don't want to be a jerk, or to look like the self-involved person that at some level, we all are.  

 But I want to communicate to those seeking contact and content.  I want to remark when there's something to say, to add a voice to the chorus, whether aligned or dissenting.  When there might be something to share that could help someone, or save somebody a frustration I experienced, or help light a fire of excitement that spreads wonderfully within someone's life.  Maybe I've been too concerned with having a specific point of view -- trying too hard to connect my 'deep thoughts' to creativity or music or writing, whatever.  Well, you might be hearing more stories about Daisy (now 2 and a half) or food or getting the clutter out! or the other things that occupy my daily life so much.  Hope that's alright with y'all.

I also want to find some models of great blogs with rich, helpful content.  Can you guys turn me on to some of your favorites?  

What's the right amount to blog?  Multiple times a day?  Daily?  Weekly?   Please comment and share with me how often your favorite bloggers post.  There are usually rhythms to these things, and I am perfectly happy to learn from those who've found great ones already. 

Okay, so that's it for today.  I'll wrap it up with my thankful things, starting with a thank you to you!

Today I'm thankful for:

1.  The chance to have a good talk with my sister.

2.  That Daisy's teeth are feeling better after she knocked them IN the other day -- yikes!

3.  Reconnecting with great old friends!

4.  Wonderful grandparents.  :) 

5.  Naps during those great midwestern rains.  

 

Hi Everybody...

I haven't been blogging much at all lately -- I'm sorry for the silence.  Even getting an occasional "tweet" out seems challenging sometimes.  I have a theory though, that in these modern times, we reach out to our virtual communities and hubs when we feel a need to be heard, to find witness.  So either I haven't felt that I've had much to say (except for the dozen tweets and FB entries tonight while hopped up on a white mocha here at Coffee Garden), or that I feel witnessed enough in my daily life that I have been content there lately.  Okay, there's the third option of just facing the fact that having a two-and-a-half year old in your life pretty much draws every spare extra second out of it.  (And replaces them with laughter and sweet insider glances with your honey).  Maybe it's a melange of the three elements....

I've seemed to notice an interesting phenomena about ideas lately -- how they come in an all-encompassing, engulfing flood and then seem to recede all at once too.  I feel so surrounded by possibility that I'm almost drowning, so full of realized visions that I don't want to stop at one.  And other times, the emptiness, the vacuum in me feels as if it's just as complete.  Focus and incentive ebbs and flows in screwed up inverse proportion to time and energy available for exploring a project.  A few times in the past month, I've found myself with a couple hours open unexpectedly, and instead of diving in to something cool and creative and fun and ready to get rolling, I've been unable to catch the spark of intention and excitement  that typically sends me down a specific project path.  Maybe there's a deep "resting of the fields" going on, maybe I need the insistent pressure of a deadline to get all the neurons firing -- I don't know.  Maybe I'm just not very good at forcing myself to do anything.  

I'm thinking a lot about right livelihood, in the Buddhist sense.  What is the purpose and value of my work?  Of anyone's?  What is the right direction of our time and efforts?  Is there a better way than the one I've chosen?  

Sometimes I wipe down the counter and realize it's the fifth time I've done it in a day.  And I find myself extrapolating how many times my mom (and her mom, and hers) did these necessary, repetitive tasks.  I think it's all good -- that we think in different rhythms, sometimes needing the idling time that menial tasks provide in order to work things out -- but still, the over-and-over of it does get to you.  I know I'm not alone.  How many times has Mark watered trees, sorted photos, snow-blown the driveway?  How many patients' eyes has my Dad checked with repetitious precision?  How many gigs have my friends played?  

I'm thinking about space, too.  What does it mean -- the spaces you create around you?  What do they say about us?  How quickly do they reflect what's going on within us?  As houses foreclose around us in the Utah market -- both those of wealthy speculators and working people who got in over their heads -- I'm conflicted, feeling pulled by opportunity and compassion, possibility and warning. . . wondering if it's bad karma to want one of these suddenly more affordable (well, kind of) homes, or a sign to find more contentment in exactly the place I am, to release the sense of striving that is so celebrated in American culture.  

Maybe it's the fall, enhancing a touch of meloncholy.  I know the changing seasons always bring up a sense of accountability for me.  Another autumn here.  The hillsides changing again.  What was I doing last year?  What did I hope to have done by this year?  I had a teacher in high school, Bill Sinon, who once suggested that people who live in four-season climates are more motivated and action-oriented than those in climates with only one general season.  In Hawaii, he said, if you don't do something today, you can do it tomorrow.  You're as likely to have another sunny, comfortable, lovely day as not.  In the midwest, we're pushed along by the seasons, always knowing that winter -- and spring, and summer, and fall -- is just around the corner.  So we move forward, creating deadlines, noting progress.   There are so many projects in my life that are done and out of my hands -- the Crab Cove kids music cd, my book -- that I guess I'm feeling a little all over the place, wanting to control that which is no longer mine to control.  

5 Things I'm Thankful For Today:
1.  Faith. 
2.  Laptops.
3.  my favorite new (to me) novelist, Harlan Coben
4.  Possibility
5.  Contentment.

Love to you.  : )
mb

To My Sister, On the Eve of Your Becoming a First-Time Mother By Mary Beth Maziarz

You’re just a breath away from this baby arriving.  You feel like you have lots of time, but it'll go by in a snap, just like that.   *!*

I can’t know what motherhood will be like for you.  Some of us struggle against it as if we’ve been suddenly caught in a binding net; some slip into it like a warm, soft sweatshirt that feels finally perfect and easy.  You’ll find your own way.  But I’m your big sister.  And as usual, I’ve learned a couple things that I wanted to share.

Giving birth hurts, whether traditionally or by c-section, epidural or not.  But you’ll get over it – truly, you will.  It’s weird and chaotic and natural and focused and unbelievable.  It’s an exhilarating, thrilling rush.  It’s also exhausting – some say the most intensely physical experience of a woman’s life.  In any case, the feeling of that new baby against your skin, that warm, wet, little wriggling pink crying thing, will be worth your incredible efforts, bringing a sense of reward and arrival unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

You will soon see your husband in new ways, loving him with a deeper connection (and dependence) than you have in the past.  You’ll be touched by his awkwardness at first, perhaps, and when his confidence grows, his pride. You’ll love him more than you ever thought possible.  You will also discover that he is capable of being far more clueless, insensitive, and LOUD, than you ever imagined.  Help bring him in when he feels left out.  Try really hard not to criticize his childcare efforts if they're clumsy or just different from yours.  It's good to have the balance of  both of you, the yin and yang.  And remember that he’s in a new life, too.  His new responsibilities feel different from yours, but they’re just as deeply instinctive and just as real.

Your friends will offer to do things for you.  Let them.  You’ll think that you need to do everything yourself for a while, and this is okay, but eventually the adrenaline and novelty will wear off and those friends who offer to bring you a meal or stop by the store for you will seem like true angels.  They are.  Accept their generosity and help in the same spirit that you’ve given it yourself in the past.

Be prepared for your friends without kids to drift a little.  This, too, is okay.  They care about you, and they will eventually find your child completely charming, but they may not find the gory details of birth, breastfeeding, hemorrhoids, or baby-poop color as riveting as some of your other Mom friends will.  If you stay selective with photos, stories, and updates, and they’ll be more interested in staying in the loop.

Alternately, be prepared to feel a new kinship with other Moms, experienced or new.  You’re in the club now. You get it.  You won’t all agree on everything, and you’ll discover that there are lots of different approaches to child-rearing, but you’ll share a devotion that binds you to other women in a new, almost primal, way.

Get ready to see Mom and Dad with completely new respect and admiration.  You’ll find yourself astonished at all the things they made look so easy for so many years.  You’ll understand why they’re a little nuts.  And why they look tired.  You’ll find yourself especially thankful for Mom and her help when the baby arrives (more than you can even fathom right now).

Trust that things will return to normal.  Well, a new normal.  Your house will come back into order.  (Mostly.)  The seemingly never-ending, gargantuan laundry piles will recede.  You’ll have time to shower regularly, allowing you to once again smell nice and look presentable.  You’ll eventually be able to run to the grocery store or Starbucks without it being a grand production.   You'll someday read a magazine again. 

Your body will return to its familiar self.  (You’ll both miss the boobs).  You’ll sleep.  You’ll have sex.  (Okay, probably less, but you will have it.)  You’ll remember who you are.  You’ll contribute to society beyond fulfilling the needs of this demanding little bundle.

You’ll work harder at this than you ever have in your life at anything.  It will seem impossible at times, ridiculous and beyond comprehension.  You will seriously ponder how the world moves forward, how people choose to have new children all the time, how whole families live in tiny two-bedroom apartments in New York.  You’ll wonder how idiots do this, how people ever consider having more than one child, how parents of multiples possibly manage (which you once thought sounded like fun).

It’ll also feel more natural and instinctive than you know.  And your baby’s face will be the best show in town. You’ll find yourself looking at him or her with distractingly absorbing fascination.  You’ll watch the child sleep, cry, wiggle, eat, and every moment will be full of emotion and a love different from the love you’ve known until now.  It will feel like your privilege to make sure this child is warm and fed and clean and kicking with delight.  You will feel gratitude and attachment, and sometimes even fear, or fierce protectiveness, that is shocking at times in its intensity.  You will love this kid like nobody's business.  And the child will love you back.  Little arms reaching out to you will be like coming home.  You'll wish that he or she would sleep on your chest forever in this warm little content  bundle.  You'll feel both powerful and small at once.  

You'll want to do everything right.  You'll want to be a better person, so that you can raise a better person in this little one.  You'll suddenly care a lot more about recycling, hormones in the milk, clean water, and other stuff affecting the state of the planet.  You'll find yourself wanting to make the earth a beautiful, safe place for your child and all other children for a long time, not just your stay here.  

Motherhood has a way of getting both easier and more demanding by the day.  You’ll sometimes look back with nostalgia and longing for the stages just passed, suddenly realizing that there were elements you should have savored while you could.  You’ll mean to write things down or take more pictures or movies or remember, remember, dammit! but it’s hard to do it all.  Do the best you can.

Actually, that’s a good policy for all of it.   Just do the best you can.

You’re going to be great.
Good luck, babe. The fun is just beginning.

I am wondering what it all means.

I am working on my book, trying to weave together so many thoughts and concepts and stories into something that I very much hope makes sense and will help others in some significant way.   I am thinking about Christmastime and family, fullness, the difference between childhood magic and the adult kind.  I'm thinking about the winter Solstice that happened on such a blizzardous day last month and the intentions that I wasn't able to make/share that day, and haven't been sure about making or sharing since.  

My days are full.  I rush around tidying the house as Daisy naps, trying to complete basic business tasks and household maintenance before I wind down like a clock in the early evening.  I visit with good friends, delight in Daisy's daily new words and discoveries and abilities, nuzzle with Mark, watch the snow fall.  I use the internet as a portal to things I might acquire, learn about, investigate, confirm.  It's a nice window to other worlds.  I play the piano for stolen moments -- Daisy dances or edges me out of my bench seat so that she, the rightful player, can take her spot and tap the big piano keys with her tiny fingers.  

I keep in touch with family members as well as I can, laughing and sharing when I can, trying to keep the edge of impatience out of my voice if they call at an inconvenient time or with a tone in their voice that feels like it will soon expand into something too heavy for me to carry.  

I try to keep up with myself, what I'm thinking, where I'm going, what I want, what I can give, how I can serve.  I hope I'm self-aware, but like anyone, how can I really know?  It's so much easier to see the (supposedly) faulty trajectories or missing pieces in others than in myself.  I am certain I am denser than I know sometimes.  I pray that I will see the fuller story in the situations around me.  

I am noticing how much of my life is driven by some sort of ego-payoff. . . how much energy have I spent (wasted?) on activities or things or titles to make me feel that I matter, that what I do or am or contribute has value?  How would my being or actions or contributions change without this concern or awareness?  

Does music really mean anything?  Does writing?  
Do the benefits of wealth really give one anything of value? 
Does a beautiful surrounding or body or eyeshadow change one's life?
I believe in love.  Is love really all there is?  Is the rest flavoring?   

I think working on my creativity book in such detail and focus is making me a little bit nuts, which is okay.  Quite a few of my most admired creative spirits lean into the out-there realm from time to time for sure.  I wonder if this existential funk/curiosity I'm in is a result of trying to detach from the inevitable result of whatever the response to the book will be.  Huge, delightful impact?  Nobody giving a damn at all?  Somewhere in the middle?  Maybe I am nervous and telling myself that nothing matters feels better than admitting that this (perhaps silly) thing matters quite a lot to me.  

I hope you are all out there enjoying the crest of the new year.   If YOU have it figured out, please do tell.   I sense there are answers, there is meaning.  I just am less and less sure of what it is....

xo,
mb

One of the chapters I'm working on for my upcoming book highlights the power of gratitude and good-vibe lists as a tool for increasing your creative flow and pulling out of resistance, funks.   I believe the lists we keep define us in some way or another.  

Here's mine from today.  

Good things:  
Wordle's Word Cloud program that arranges text in graphic, cool ways
Time Balm concealer from Sephora
Jill's exciting writing project for Moms
Gincy's GrandDad's eggnog
(and...Christmas parties that supply babysitters in the basement)
Dena's sweet package of darling outfits for Daisy
The Mission soundtrack
The as-seen-on-TV Tobi steamer -- it works!
Flannel sheets 
Whisky class at Coopers on Friday -- turns out I'm not the single malt girl I imagined.  And Scotch can taste like ash.
My Amazon Kindle and the forty-some book samples I have on it at the moment
Jason's new project (Shrek - The Musical) that opened this weekend on Broadway
Fun iPhone apps that make the camera better
A full 'House M.D.' folder on Tivo
Being in touch with old friends through Facebook, some I haven't seen since h.s. graduation
Sparkly diamond earrings (okay... "diamonique")
Feeling inspired to write a (sad) song about Christmas
Kilts!
White chocolate lattes
February getaway plans
Very nice parents and in-laws
Recovering stock prices (I can imagine good things, as well as experience them)
Daisy's exploding verbal skills, today:  purse!  bat-tub!  pee-low!  socks!  bock-ly!  stawby!  owside!  
Great Thai food
Feeling like there's plenty of everything -- money, time, energy, delight, inspiration
Excellent snow tires
Progress on the house -- getting things done!  yay!
An unexpected day to write
Hotel-like new drapes that block out the morning sun
Caring counsel from my professional colleagues
Mom friends who admit they'd like to take a holiday ride on "The Vodka Express"
The visual thesaurus website/program
Amy Poehler on SNL.  We'll miss you, Amy.
Being all caught up.   with anything.
LipFusion lipgloss in Blush
Seeing Sarah the other night so healthy and happy
Cool delicious water when I'm thirsty
Seat warmers in the Outback

Darkness when I'm tired
Brightness when I seek clarity
Quiet when I'm overwhelmed
Flow when I can put it into form
Connection when I'm lonely
Opportunity when I'm ready
Generosity when I need it, or can give it
Perspective when I'm distraught
Peace, wherever I can find it, every day

Thank you for the Good Things you all bring to me, share with me.  

xo
mb

Hello there, creative folks and artists --

I've been working on a book for a while now about creativity and the Law of Attraction.  It's been a lot of fun and very exciting, but fairly solitary (except for the nice people who work in the coffee places or libraries where I tend to write).  I'd love to have you, my community, become involved if you're interested.  

If you have a story about how you successfully applied the Law of Attraction to a facet of your creative work, I'd love to consider it for an artist profile in the book.  The most helpful way to break it down would be to briefly share:

1) what wasn't working
2) what you did / what approaches you specifically used
3) what happened

That's all there is to it.  If it feels like it might be a good fit for the project, I'll be in touch for some more details.  

OR, if you saw "The Secret" or have read some of the other Law of Attraction materials out there, maybe you've tried to apply some LOA techniques and not had the results you hoped for.  In this case, please send me your questions about your specific situation, and I'll see I can work it into the Q&A section of the book.

Thanks everybody -- I'm already looking forward to hearing your stories!
Best wishes, 
mb

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five Things I'm Thankful For Today:

1) Mark's Mom and Dad being so wonderfully helpful with Daisy. 
2) The Daly house feeling so warm and snuggly.
3) Our penne-with-vodka-sauce dinner that is going to be awesome, I think
4) My cute, cozy new black turtleneck 
5) The sweet movies we took of Daisy on Thanksgiving
6) That Mark's movie will premiere at the Local's Short Film Festival at the Jim Santy on Wednesday night.  It's free!
 

[I got a last-minute email from my friend, artist and writer Kindra Fehr, awhile back, asking other Moms if they would help with a column she was writing about the meanings/interpretations of parenthood.  This was my reply.  It appeared in Catalyst Magazine.  I know it doesn't exactly fit into the typical vibe of this blog, but having and raising children is inherently creative, and it is on my mind so much, so I hope you will indulge me.  Thanks!]

* * * 

I feel a distinct compression of time these days...time I used to spend languidly sleeping or wandering the aisles at Wild Oats or Barnes and Noble is now punctuated by my awareness of this tiny person. Sometimes she needs me; sometimes I just find myself less able to float in my own world because I now have this little moon in my life.

It also means experiencing that time compression in her growth. As Lowen & Navarro said in one of their songs, “the days go by so slowly, but the years go by so fast.” It’s like that. She’s suddenly 18 months old and all those long stretches between the end of her afternoon nap and putting her down to bed have crunched right down to a year and a half that’s flashed by in what feels like a minute. My life experiences have become mp3s instead of records.

I’m more aware of lifespan and energy (the get-out-of-bed kind, not the law-of-attraction/reiki kind, though I think about that too).  Will my parents know Daisy as a young woman?  Will Mark and I be as energetic and enthusiastic and passionate about life as we feel now when she is beginning her adult journey?  Will we look old and wrinkly and not cool (or God forbid, old people trying to be too cool)?  Will she make it through all the bizarre choices we make as children and teenagers to a healthy grown-up life?  Hope doesn’t even come close to describing what I feel here.

I think about how I spend the time I have with Daisy.  Am I teaching her enough or the right things?  I hope I am making the most of our hours and moments with her at this young age.  I hope I will be able to grow with her and offer her the best parts of my Mom’s mothering of me as her birthright.  I hope I will somehow avoid the weirdness between mothers and daughters that comes at adolescence, but still remain her parent and protector.  I think 50 times a day about how she might be at age 3 or 7 or 10 or 30.

I wonder if I passed away today if she would remember me at all.  I wonder at what she may teach me someday.

Being a mother means surrendering to the changing face of time.