Archive for October, 2013

One of the things I like about blogging and the internet for that matter is that there is a feeling of connectedness. Another person will write something that makes you go take a deep breath and say, oh, good you too? There’s some solidarity despite being worlds away. Earlier this week my friend Robin wrote about A Day In The Life of a Work-at-Home Mom post and invited a few others to link up.

Lesley and Becca posted their days yesterday. And I decided I’d link-up as well.

So here is my A Day in the Life of a new mom, trying to go back to work and learn that not getting everything done is ok.

But you know what’s funny. I find myself wanting to edit or alter how our day actually went. pathetic, huh? I worry that if I write what I did or didn’t do or how long it actually took Elena to fall asleep somehow you’ll see me not as a good mom. I find myself wanting to make all kinds of excuses- oh, she’s had a cold and is coughing. I’ve been sick. Or we just moved. If I am honest I really wanted to document a “good day”- one where I feel efficient, and she’s happy and rested and we have time to see friends and exercise and make dinner. But that’s not the kind of day we had.

Here is our day:

{A Day in the Life of a new mom, trying to go back to work and learn that not getting everything done is ok.}

 6:05am I hear cooing and baby babbles next to me. I roll over in bed and smile with my eyes still closed. Gerber gets up with Elena and changes her and goes downstairs. I get an extra 45 glorious minutes of sleep

6:50 Gerber comes back in and hands me the baby in bed. I nurse her lying down. She smiles and talks to me. This is one of my favorite parts of our morning. I just wish I could convincer her to snuggle and go back to sleep with me. But she is wide awake. Gerber leaves for work.

7:15 I get up. Get baby dressed and put her on our new rug! Let me tell you, carpet in Guatemala is a BIG DEAL. Elena plays, I get dressed and we head down stairs for breakfasts

7:30 I make a smoothie-half to drink now and half for later when I’m starving and don’t have time to make something. I check email, scroll through Facebook and Instagram. Elena is usually content on her activity mat for awhile.

8:00 Elena stars getting fussy, so I put her in the ergo. This is how she takes her morning naps- always.

8:15am I start walking and bouncing until she falls asleep. I start a load oflaundry, do my hair and put on mascara and a quick brush of blush and powder. My getting ready routine has gotten drastically shorter. After 40 min her little eyes pop open and she looks at me, like she’s saying “ok, now what?” I know the sleep experts say that doesn’t count as a nap, but that’s all we got these days.

9:00am the baby sitter comes and we load up the stroller, diaper bag, my laptop, etc into the car. I put Elena in the carseat. Ah, almost forgot the bottle. I run back into the house.

9:15-12pm-ish I’m try to go to the office 3 times a week. I used to work mainly from home, but I find with a little one I just get distracted. So now I’ve been taking Elena and the babysitter with me (its a cultural thing- most people don’t leave their babies with a sitter, you take them both with! Who knew? I’m trying t0 adjust expectations.) While I talk with our director, make some phone calls to set up meetings for next week and respond to a few emails as we plan for 2014 group, Elena goes for a walk in the stroller and then takes a bottle. The sitter usually carries her in the “original maya wrap” for her 2nd nap.

On days when I’m not in the office, we use this time to go the market or the bank or run errands in Antigua.

12:15pm I try to get home in time to put E down for a good afternoon nap. I grab the rest of a my smoothie in the fridge and head up to nurse Elena and put her down for a nap.

1pm 45min later she’s nursed and we’re rocking in the Rocker Glider. She’s tired, but not sleeping. I’m tired and feeling frustrated I resort to laying on our bed next to her, basically being a human pacifier Sometimes we just take nap together. Can’t say I’m complaining.

1:45pm She smiling, rubs her eyes, coughs and starts getting fussy. I give in and put her in the ergo.

2pm: She’s asleep. I’m starving. I go downstairs heat up Pad Thai leftovers from Sunday and make a salad.

2:45pm She’s still sleeping on me. Since nursing makes me always a little bit hungry I like having snacks on hand that are easy to grab. Feeling ambitious, I get everything out to make banana muffins.

3:00pm I start to mash the bananas. She wakes up. I resolve that the muffins will have to wait. I poor myself an iced coffee. I keep a glass jar full of strong decaf coffee in te fridge and add ice and milk. It’s my usual afternoon treat.

3:15 I change her, feed her and we lay down on the new carpet to play. We read (well, lets be honest, Elena chews.) She’s trying hard to sit up. I take a few pictures to send to family back in CA. We take a walk outside. I love watching her look around. She’s always so alert. I look at my watch and realize we’re not going to make it to Antigua. I call my friend and have to cancel our coffee date. Maybe next week.

4:15pm- Daddy cones home! And takes Elena. She smiles and grabs his beard. It’s the cutest thing. I finish mashing the bananas and put the muffins in the oven. It’s the easiest, healthiest recipe I know. I’m getting hungry and I realize I haven’t planned dinner. I pull out some frozen lentil soup from the freezer that I made on Monday. I take out the first batch of muffins and put the other ones in.

5:00pm- Gerber gives E back to me and I go upstairs to start bath time. Gerber works on installing curtain rods. I yell down the hall, Can you take out the muffins? They’re a little burnt on the bottom. Bummer.

5:45pm Thankfully Elena always loves bath time. We sing, say goodnight and began the usually routine—

6:00pm I nurse her and rock her. She falls asleep on me. I pray for her. And smell the top of her head. This is actually one of the sweetest moments of my day. What I don’t like is what happens 45 min later when I lay her down in her crib, she wakes up. Starts fussing. I pick her up rock her a bit more and give her the boob.

7:00pm I do a limp arm test. She’s asleep. PTL. I lay her down ever so gently and walk out. I hear nothing in the monitor except the steady stream of white noise.

8:00pm I hear her cough. She wakes herself up. I try a stomach pat and head rub ,but she’s not having it. I pick her up and start the whole process over again . Nurse, rock, try to lay her down. She squirms and her eyes open. Gerber gets me the maya wrap and I plop her in and start swaying so I can eat dinner: lentil soup and grilled cheese on cinnamon raised bread. Yes, an odd combination, but we didn’t have any other bread.

8:30pm- Shes asleep so I lay her down in our bed. Still wrapped up in the sling, she stays asleep. Her little arms resting above her head. She looks so small and precious in our queen size bed. I position pillows on either side of her.

9:00pm- I come down to see new curtain rods and a mirror hung in the family room! Gerber rubs my shoulders. I remind him that we need to finish our newsletter by tomorrow. I stare at the boxes and piles of stuff on the table

9:30pm- We sit on the couch and talk. He reminds me it will all get done, little by little. The piles and stuff doesn’t stress him out as much. So, the group comes on Saturday right? Yes. Ok, you’re going to buy the groceries? I’ll take Elena then. We move between what needs to get done around the house to how much our life has changed in the past few months.

10:30pm- I put some dishes in the sink and leave them until the morning. I get the breast pump. Gotta make a bottle for tomorrow. I scroll through blogs and facebook while I pump. I type up the rest of this post. I rinse off the pump and put the bottle in the fridge.

10:50pm- Start another load of laundry. I’ll let it sit until the morning.

11:00pm - We tip toe upstairs and around our room. Elena is still sleeping and not waking her is the goal. I lay down in bed and pull her close to me. She’s qute cuddly when she’s sleeping. I realize I forgot to brush my teeth. I’ll do it in the morning, I say.

What’s your Day In The Life post look like? It’s not too late to link up here.

I usually write these letter to our daughter once a month. It’s a small way for me to remember what we did and how she is changing as a baby and how I am learning as a mother. There’s lots to say about month 4. I always have lots to say. But this month, Gerber wanted to say something.

So, in much fewer words, here is his beautiful letter, from a dad to his daughter:

Dear Mija-

Before I met you and before your mom and and I even got married, for some reason I always wanted to have a daughter.

When we went to the clinic for an ultrasound and the technician said, “es una nina.” My heart just melted. In that moment, I knew I wanted to protect you and provide for you. For some reason I always knew I would be able to take care of you. I figured I could  change your diapers and feed you a bottle and rock you. Maybe because I took care of my nieces when they were little I figured I could do the same for you, no problem.

And the truth is I could do that every day. Those things are not a that much of challenge for me.

The thing that is a challenge for me every day is I feel responsible to show you how a man should treat a woman.  I want to treat your mom the best I can. I want to show her love and listen to her so I can be the best example of how one day a man should treat you.

I know during your life you will receive lots of gifts- toys, books, ice cream, maybe even a TV in your room, even though your mom will always disagree with me on that one. But my gift to you everyday is to treat your mom well and love her so that I can give you a good example.

My hope is that when you grow up and look for a husband you will have high standards for the kind of man you will marry. Someone who will love you, respect you and listen to you.

Elena, I knew I loved you when you were inside your mom. But, the day you were born I have never experienced feeling that much love all at once. The love a father has for his daughter is like nothing else.

Mija, sabes que?

Te amo.

 Sabes cuanto?

 Mucho. Mucho. Mucho.

Every day I ask you these questions. And probably one day when you’re older you will get embarrassed, but I will keep asking you because I will always love you. You will always be my daughter.

Love,

Daddy

Last Thursday  the school where I have worked the past few years held their clausura or graduation ceremony.  The room was colorful; full of little girls running around in their handwoven huipiles and cortes, mother’s carrying babies in the original “Maya wraps” and young fathers who have replaced their work boots with their nicely polished black leather shoes. Santa Maria is beautiful town of about 30,000 people nestled on the side of a volcano, about 15 minutes drive from where I live. It is hard working agricultural community, where most families earn just enough to get by day-to-day, but not enough to get out of the cycle of poverty. It is a good reflection of Guatemalan deepest social issues-  lack of job opportunities, little access to health care, limited educational options, a deep rooted machista ideology and too many NGOs with good intentions giving paternalistic handouts.

This is the backdrop for our school, Proximos Pasos.

And as I sat and watched 11 of our girls walk across the stage to receive their certificate for completing 6th grade I felt mixed emotions.

•    •    •

I have taught English to many of these 11 over past 2 years, and some I have known some since 2008. I am proud. They have worked hard and have been committed to their studies. They have had excellent teachers and I believe graduate knowing new skills and expanded ideas. They have learned that they are important and deeply loved by God. They have had access to computers and professional cooking classes and hot showers and field trips. Things most girls in Guatemala would only dream about.

You might be thinking, only 11 girls made it to 6th grade? But wait, don’t you start with a class of 30 in 1st grade?

Yes, but when you consider the average grade completed for girls in Guatemala is just 3rd grade, then you realize these 11 are super stars.

And these super stars are precious. They are Paulina, Blanca, Mishel, Karla, Loida, Andrea, Heidy, Maria, Claudia, Rosenda and Estanfy.

As we applauded and cameras flashed, I felt a twinge of sadness. I know for many of them this is it. They are done studying. They will not go on to jr. high or high school, what we call here basicos or diversificado. They will go to work. They will stay at home and take care of younger siblings. They will become part of the cycle of poverty that keeps you where you are just to survive. They will fall captive to the idea that says you will stay here because you’re a women. This is the ugly side of a machista culture that gives boys preference in studying, where as girls are often required to stay home or work. It’s not fair, but it just is.

Before the ceremony started, I ran into Mishel, one of the 11 who I first met in 2008. We bonded because of our shared names. I gave her a hug and a huge, “Felicidadae!”

Are you going to study next year?

She shook her head.

Why not?

“I have to work.”

But you’re such a bright and gifted student.

“Mis papas van a mandarme a vender.” (My parents are going to send me to sell in the market.)

Where?

“In Guatemala City.”

Her eyes welled up with tears.

And mine did too.

After the ceremony I took a picture of the graduates. The shortest one standing in the back is Paulina, one of my favorites. She is a spunky and creative and just a teeny bit mischievous. One of those students who has so much potential to unlock. She shined during our oral presentations and can get along with almost anyone.

I leaned over to be at her level, Are you going to study next year?

“No, Seño .”

Why not?

“My parents won’t let me. I have to work.”

My heart was crushed. Where are you going to work?

“En la casa.”

She turned the other way so I wouldn’t see her eyes start to water.

These girls are 12, 13, 14 years old. And this is it. Their chance to go to school, to keep studying is done.These girls know education is a gift, not a right and sadly it’s a gift that is taken from them too soon. Maybe this hits close to home because I am a teacher and I will always be an advocate for education and learning and opportunities. But I am also a new mother, a mother to a little girl.

And my little girl who was born in the same country as my 11 students. She is Guatemalan and yet I know she is born with privileges that my students will never have.  I know my daughter will have the opportunity to go on to jr high and high school and probably even the university. She will not be forced to sell vegetables in the market when she’s 12 or quit school to work in the house at 13. She will have the opportunity to study and learn and go to school, and I want the same for the girls in Santa Maria.

 •    •    •

 I am not naive enough to think that I can change a culture or a community. I don’t think complex social issues can be changed by simple solutions, nor by an outsider at that. But I am convinced that we need to do something. I want to research what programs in other third-world countries have worked to help keep girls in school longer? I want to interview and talk to families in Santa Maria; find out from them what is the biggest hindrance? Is it money? Is it having help at home? And what are solutions? Have you heard of any NGOs or programs that have been successful with keeping girls in school longer? Please do share.

the cutest future graduate:

Before I had Elena I knew I could not keep doing everything I was doing, and take care of a baby. But some stubborn, let-me-try-part of me said, “No, I can do it.”

And I’ve been trying for the past few months, but lately I’ve had to admit, I can’t. I can’t love and take care of our daughter and keep working.  I can’t go to the market and disinfect vegetables and freeze fruit for smoothies and spend time with my sweet husband and take care of myself. We have tried juggling our schedules. We’ve agreed on the, “I’ll do nights, you do mornings” trade off. But it hasn’t been working. I’ve tried keeping up with emails with one hand via my iphone while nursing with the other. I’ve brought Elena along to meetings and bounced her in the ergo while trying to talk to our site leaders. We’ve had more take out dinners than I’d like to admit. And I know I can’t keep staying up late trying to finish everything that I didn’t get done during the day. It’s a bad cycle to get into. My body has been battling being sick and my mind has been fighting the false mantra that says, “I can do it all.”

It’s the probably one of the most dangerous lies to believe, huh?

So often I imagine God, lovingly looking at me, shaking his head…who told you you had to do it all?

•  •  •

So, without wanting to get into the whole working outside-the-home vs stay-at-home mom debate, the truth is I think both involve a certain amount of sacrifice. Moms who choose to or out of necessity need to work outside the home, sacrifice time with their kids. The day-to-day, mundane, yet absolutely precious moments of child raising are often missed out on. Stay at home moms may inherit time and with it the fullness of being around for each and every moment, but there is a weariness in having your day be defined by your child’s nap schedule and not speaking a sentence with more than 3-syllables.

But this mother’s heart is having a hard time with both. I want to keep working, and I want to be home with Elena. I want both/and, not either/or.

I left my teaching position for the next year, because there is not much about teaching that is flexible. And even though my heart will always be in the classroom, I want to teach my daughter first during these precious early years. But I also work to coordinate all of our short-term teams and groups that come down to Guatemala. On a good day I plan and meet with our site leaders and get to remind eager college students and adults that serving is not just something you do one week out of the year. Missions isn’t a trip, it’s a lifestyle. I’d actually like to get rid of the whole phrase “mission trip,” but that’s for another post. On most average days I fill in excel spreadsheets and respond to lots of questions about “What is the weather like in June?” and “Can I wear sandals?” The truth is I like what I do and generally have a lot of flexibility, but having a newborn has changed all of that “flexibility.”

•  •  •

I remember reading a great post awhile ago by Laura over at the Hollywood Housewife, about how hiding help is like denying botax. I am not so much hiding help as realizing that I am having a hard time admitting that I need help. So we’re looking into hiring a nanny or a sitter. Not sure what to call it yet or how many hours or who it will be, but it’s a start. A start at admitting, that I in fact can’t do it all.

And I have so many mixed emotions about it. Both about hiring help and being honest with the fact that I need it.

But isn’t that how motherhood is, a wonderful existence of mixed emotions about, umm… everything?

 •  •  •

So, other Moms…how do you do it? Do you do childcare exchanges? Hire help? Have family watch the kiddos? Any one out there been a nanny or a baby sitter for a family? What was your experience?

Dear Mija,

I realize these letters may be as much about you, as they are about me. It’s my own little way to pause and reflect not just on how you’ve grown or changed, but what I’m learning about motherhood.

What I’ve learned this month is that I can’t wait to do things until everything feels “done” or “put away” and “finished.” Because I have a feeling that from now…oh, until you’re about 18, there will be things undone. I kept saying I’ll write this letter once the kitchen gets finished, oh, and the boxes get unpacked, and I have my own nicely organized little work space.

Buuuttttt, none of that has happened yet.

So here I sit at our dining room table, scattered with the plastic cups we’ve been using until the kitchen is done, my make-up bag from our recent trip to the states and a spray bottle filled with water and tea tree oil because I’ve been fighting mold like crazy.

The big thing that happened this month is we moved! Granted it was only 2 blocks away from our rental house to our newly remodeled place, but it might as well have been across town. Your abuela came for the day and held you in the cargador while your Daddy and I moved boxes and bags and carried furniture to the new place. We painted your room a light shade of teal. The name of the paint was “minty jade” which seems appropriate for Guatemala. I can’t wait to decorate it. We’re hoping to get you a crib one of these days and help teach you how to take nice long naps in there : )

Mija, 3 months is good age. You’re smiling and so much more responsive, but not yet mobile or teething. You seem so much more comfortable in the outside world and you’re just pretty happy as long someone is interacting with you. Whenever I get close to your face and smile you give me the cutest little grin and stare right back at me with your big brown eyes. And then you start coo’ing and blabbing as if we were having a real conversation. It’s one of my favorite things, even though I can’t quite understand you yet.

This month you also discovered mirrors. And you love looking at yourself. Well, I think you just love looking at faces. I’m not sure if you’ve figured out that thee adorable face in the mirror is yours. In fact your Daddy and I have learned that you seem happiest when there is someone talking to you and lots of faces to look at. We sometimes try to leave you on the bed or sitting in your swing by yourself… and you play with your hands for all of 5 seconds before getting fussing.

But when we’re out and about with lots of people and noise you just seem to do better. In fact last month we celebrated your first Dia de Indpendancia. But in Guatemala everyone calls it “el quince.” Your Daddy carried you all morning as we made our way through crowds of people in el parque and listened to loud bands march down the streets. And the whole day you didn’t fuss once! I think Mommy was more tired than you were.

Your Daddy and I have realized that there are things about holidays, especially cultural holidays, like Independence Day that we will never quite understand or totally get. He might celebrate 4th of July with us, but it just doesn’t mean as much. He doesn’t have memories of summer BBQs and watermelon, and waving American flags and hearing the Star Spangled Banner sung as fireworks shoot in to the night sky. And it’s the same for me in Guatemala. I’ll go and appreciate the bands and excitement of Independence Day. But I don’t totally understand the antorchas and the acto civicos. It just doesn’t mean the same to me. But Mija, we hope that somehow you’ll develop an appreciation and identity with both. That you’ll have memories and roots in both cultures and both countries.

Sometimes I just want to keep you little. I love your soft fingers and toes and the sweet rolls on your thighs. I love how your chin rests so comfortably on your chest, making your neck almost disappear. I love watching you stretch and wake up each morning….and then, I give you to Daddy. Yep, you and Daddy have so much fun in the mornings. Usually he makes coffee and sings to you and then against my wishes he holds you on the couch and watches the news and sportscenter. And you know what, you love it. I’ve never seen a 3 month old so fascinated by the TV. I mean all of those colors and lights… (sigh) I worry about your little eyes and looking at screens, but you know what I think I just have to let it go.

I don’t know if we can take any credit, but we are quite thankful that you really are a good sleeper at night. Daddy’s guess is because you don’t sleep well during the day, then you’re so tired at night you just crash. Maybe? I’ve decided that I just don’t know that much about babies and sleep. I’ve been reading about the difference between daytime sleeping and nighttime sleeping. But I still haven’t figured out how to get you to nap beyond the 45-minute sleep cycle.

Unless…

….you are being carried!

You my dear, could be the poster child for baby wearing. And because you’re close to 14 lbs now, this month we switched from your beloved little sling, to the ergo. (you can thank your Uncle Andrew for this great gift) You nap in there, I walk around Antigua with you in there, I go to the grocery store and the market with you in there, I bring you to the office in there and most days I’ve decided it doesn’t matter what shirt I wear because all people will see is the ergo : ) Good thing I like green!

This month:

-you started rolling over all the time from you’re tummy to your back.

-you had your first (of many) plane flights to California

-you officially became a US citizen

-and you felt carpet for the first time!

-you started putting anything and everything in reach into your mouth.

- you are fascinated by your hands and ceiling fans

-and you’ve been drooling like crazy.

Elena, thank you for being do patient with me as I keep learning  how to be your mom. It’s been a hard month for me as I try to figure out how to be your mom and keep working and spend time with Daddy and somehow still try to make dinner and send emails and do laundry. Sometimes when you look at me with those beautiful eyes, I imagine you saying, “Mom, it’s not that complicated. Just love me.“

My sweet girl, I do. I love you mucho, mucho, mucho!

With all my love,

Mama

I have one hour. One hour to myself. And here I sit at Starbucks. Realizing how much I have missed this time; time to write and think and let my mind wander amidst, the buzz of milk steaming, people chatting and the computers keys tapping. I have always worked well in a coffee shop; studying during college, writing papers and lessons plans during grad school and spending an afternoon writing always just comes easier when I’m away from home. I am not distracted by the piles on my desk, or dishes that should be washed or  the sudden urge I have to keep opening the fridge looking for a snack. Somehow I find clarity through the noise of a coffee shop. And I have missed it.

There have been a million changes in the past three months. Maybe the biggest is that being a mother is all-consuming. When I go to yoga, I find myself glancing down at my cell phone throughout the entire class. Will Gerber call because she’s still fussy? Is she ok? When I go the office for a meeting, I am consciously aware of her schedule. Is she sleeping? She should be tired. She napped 3 hours ago. Did she take the bottle? I put my hand over my chest. Did I feed her on the left side or the right side last time? Ugh. I can never remember, but I am always thinking about it.

And maybe more than sleepless nights or the hours of walking and bouncing and wondering why my child won’t nap, the hardest part of being a mom is that she consumes my thoughts, my mind, my heart- my everything. I think this is normal and probably good. She is my daughter, I am her mother. She is so little, and depends on me for nourishment, for her food. I am thankful that breastfeeding has come rather easy for us. I know for so many moms and babies this is such a source of pain and discouragement. So I count my blessings. But it is this strange, wonderful feeling to know that a tiny human is dependent on me. There are some days I find it beautiful and down right amazing how God created my body to produce milk with exactly the right nutrients and fats and antibodies that she needs. But there are other days it’s just downright exhausting. Sometimes I feel like she’s attached to my boob 24/7 and I am reminded that yes, being a mom is a “full-time” job.

This trip to the states has been such a gift. Gerber left last week because he had to get back to work, but Elena and I got to stay. My family has loved and held and bounced my sweet girl. They adore her and take such good care of her, but they have also taken care of me. I’ve been pumping more so someone else can give her a bottle. My mom has offered to watch her so my sister and I can go to a Zumba class or run by Target or stop and get frozen yogurt. And nearly every morning this week, when Elena wakes up and starts cooing before 6am, I bring her into my sister’s room. Who thank the Lord, is a morning person, and is thrilled to spend a few extra hours with her little niece. Which I means I get to spend a few extra hours in bed. This is like winning the lottery for a new mom.

I am eager to get back home to husband I miss and a home that needs decorating and a job that I enjoy. We are still figuring out this work-life balance and how to have some kind of routine. I am not teaching for the rest of this year, but I am still working, coordinating all of the volunteers and short-term groups and teams that come down to Guatemala. Gerber has flexibility in his schedule which is so nice, but it means some days he’s home by 1 or 2pm and other weeks he’s gone overnight for 5 days straight. He’s great with Elena, but we realize we probably need to hire a babysitter or nanny on a more consistent basis so I can work during the day and not try cramming everything in during the hours between 7-11pm when E’s usually sleeping.

And all of this scheduling, and mothering and planning makes me remember I want to make time for writing, too. But maybe I need to change the way I write. I read a post last night from a writer and blogger I really like. She talks about how sometimes our pride and desire to write something great, can prohibit us from sometimes writing something good. Sometimes I spend so much time, thinking, writing, re-thinking and editing before I hit publish.

It feels so frivolous to get a sitter or leave Elena with Gerber just so I can just go write. I have this horrible, practical voice that says I should be “getting something done.” Things like laundry and organizing my closet, or prepping meals for the week and responding to an always full inbox of questions. And then, and only then is there time for writing. But I have found all of those things are never going to be done, they will be ongoing. So if I am going to write I need to be willing to set-aside time and just write. I need to be ok with less than perfect writing. I need to accept that in this season of my life my writing may be scattered and un-edited and that’s ok. And instead of being paralyzed to make it “good” before I press publish, I need to be ok saying it is “good enough” for now.

I’d love it if I could get away once a week and write in a coffee shop for an hour like I am right now. But I know realistically my best writing may happen on my iPhone, taping the keys with one hand while breastfeeding with other other. This is my life right now.

How have you found time/discipline to write? What’s your secret? Do share.