A Bird.

"The owl is the symbol of
the feminine, the moon and the night.
The owl is the bird of magic and darkness, of prophecy and wisdom.

The owl is associated with Athena.

An owl totem gives you the power to extract secrets.
Meditate on the owl and things will be revealed.
Listen to its voice inside of you.

You will hear not what is being said by others, but what is hidden. 
You can detect subtleties of voice that others cannot.
People cannot deceive a person who has an owl totem.

Owl people can see into the darkness of others souls.
Most owl people are clairvoyant because of this ability.
It can be very scary at times.
Learn to trust your instincts about people.
Let your owl totem guide you."

Mommy and Mini-Me(To Zia)

I remember being pregnant and my family telling me to 'be ready!' for all of the things I had put my parents through I would indeed be experiencing from the other side. I had read all of the books, I was eating clean, green, and organically, I meditated with my belly, yoga, aquanatal, prenatal,classical(you get the point)--there was NO way I would breed rebellion!

The first year of my darling girl's life was BLISS! She was the most sweetest, gentle soul. I say, "was" with love and attention. I do not want to paint her in a two year old offensive strobe light.... She still is very much that little gentle soul.

There was a point when in my Mommy-dom where I began to feel the need to seek camaraderie. My little one was starting to talk, and grow on her own accord. She began to reach out to strangers, wave to them, and stare at them longingly. You see, for the first year of her life I kept her in what my family called 'a bubble'. For many reasons, reasons which I will share at some point in time. I began to feel completely terrified in sharing my darling with the world.

The first time I let her play at a playground with children--she was two.

At the age of four my sister became ill--out of the blue. She started with violent seizures that slowly took her spirit, her movement, her brain. She lasted for nine years in a bed on machines that served all of her life functions in our home and cared for by my parents. I was a young child but old enough to understand.  To this day there is no medical explanation for her illness. Speculation, yes. Explanation--no.

 As an adult I carried fear with me through my pregnancy, through her birth and her little blooming life. I habitually washed her hands, I never thought TWICE about feeding her processed or  not organically. I refused to even entertain the option of immunization. I lived petrified that she would unexpectedly become ill and I would have no power and that I would sit back and watch my baby lose her life. So, instead I controlled her life to the point where seeing her wave longingly at children we would see outside of our 'bubble' would bring tears to my eyes.

That playground ::smirk:: became for both of us an eye opening experience of mass proportion. We were both catapulted into this mommy and me world of which we were not prepared. For months I never spoke to the mothers I just floated around with my girl(whilst wearing a newborn).

 I became saddened to see that the children didn't welcome her, even when she followed them shrieking in sheer delight just to be among them. Then came the day--of first contact. I turned around and to my horror my daughter was being grabbed by the neck and at the end of the grip were these pinching little fingers grabbing her skin tightly and violently. Horrified I ran to her as the perpetrator's mother was trying to pry the grip.

I saw the look in her eyes. The "what the HELL was that?" look. She then looked at me and said: "I fine, it's OK, I fine...." so there it was. She was fine. I began to feel awful. Had I just thrown her into this world too soon. I'd unravelled our homespun cocoon, let her out with her wings wet--and let her get strangled!

Wondering what would be next-- she began to find little companions that didn't mistreat her. I began to find companions that I could share a cup'o'joe with on occasion. Our evolution out of our world into the world had happened and we were now floating among them.

I found my little girl to be strong and adjusted--capable and fully enchanting. She represents herself with love and poise. She's loving and empathetic, she listens(for the most part) and when we do catch a sniffle or a fever we overcome.She returns to me as that baby I carried for nine months when she needs to know I am near and she flies away strong and vibrant when she knows it's her time to explore her world.

I am in complete wonder of this evolution. I then began to relive my childhood and reflect on my life past and present. I began to realize that we want our children not only to be magnificent creatures BECAUSE of us but in spite of us. We should want them to be very much their own souls. Their own humans with emotion and little fear. We should nurture them to know that "I OK momma" even when they're being taken by the neck for the first time in their lives. In silence, in our family bed at night (or if you're lucky to get naps or downtime anytime of day!), in our warm embraces we teach them MORE than words could ever.

I still cling to my fear and I am learning to let go--slowly because of her.

 I call her 'angel'. If you knew me, that kinda world normally doesn't enter my vocabulary due to high high levels of sappy cheesiness. However, she is my angel. She saved my life in the deepest most rooted form. She gives me faith in the world--that goodness grows and innocence flows....and at times all I  need to do is just let her be.

Children are our proof that this world exists on love and magical transformation. They're strong and adaptable. They have the ability to transform, to be spun, to be wrapped up and released into the world at different stages of their lives.

To say that I am eternally grateful for her is an understatement. To say that I am proud of her is unserving. To say that I can not wait to see her 'BECOME'--is a great way to end.

Mirror Mirror......Who's that?

One of my hardest transitions into motherhood was no longer seeing myself as this hip (or so I thought) well kept trend seeker. Maybe it was because I spent all of our money on things that rattle, things that stroll,or things that are ''Garunteed!" to make our parental experience a walk in the park. *And, BOY will I get into that at a later time.*

In a society where "the mom jean" has become a fashion staple and the "scrunchie" a go to accessory it almost seems like that's what we are bound to,as if the mere wearing of such items automatically say"I'm a mom and this is my uniform". You trade in your sports coupe for a mini-van and your luckys for lees--a natural progression--no?

No!

I remember vividly this strange (and incredibly uncomfortable) moment I had in front of my husband's ENTIRE family--Christmas--Six Months Post Partum. After seeing myself on a camera screen for the FIRST time since the birth of my dear sweet baby, I ran out of the living room *sobbing*.

After about an hour of people attempting to console with "It took you nine months to gain it....." I went to another place. A place that I am quite sure we as mothers all go to at one point or another. I jumped into a sweatsuit, wrapped a scarf around my neck, pulled back my hair--and didn't think about looking in a mirror--for weeks.

Prior to getting pregnant I had lost about 60 pounds. I spent two to three hours in the gym each day. I had upstanding hair and nail appointments and I shopped--avidly. I ate raw, I lived green, I lived--for me. I can remember the exact moment of sitting down on the couch, holding that plastic stick--staring--blankly and for  a split second thinking.."Oh whoa what did I do?" The realization that something at that very second was living inside of me--and that I was no longer living for me--was life changing. INSTANTLY.

Before I knew it I was staring down at this little creature who looked a little like me, a little like him... sitting in bed with my boobs out, my hair undone, legs unshaven and chipped fingernail polish. (Chipped 9 month old fingernail polish as I refused to put a SINGLE chemical on my body while pregnant so the stuff just--stayed.) suddenly choosing outfits became "what can I pull a boob out of the easiest?" instead of  "how do my boobs look in this?".

I'd like to say that it was a slow progression to that six month diva meltdown at my in laws. But it wasn't. I was sleepless and figure less and that was the first time in months I had actually used buttons on ANYTHING. Seeing myself not being kept in by these buttons and my failed attempts at hair and make-up really just tossed around my insides. So much so that for the next five months I lived in stretchy pants and t-shirts.

One fated day a trip to the grocery store and an extended in car phone conversation led me to lay my eyes upon--my awakening. There in the parking lot a mother who had found it in her to come to the grocery store in her torn pajamas--white shirt--no bra--and bedazzled flip-flops. I wanted to hug her and hand her a mirror. I hung up the phone, reached for my tinted chapstick, opened the visor mirror and began my journey--back to civilization.

The glorious thing about children is that they love you no matter what you look (or smell) like. They don't care about your nails,  or your legs, or your shoes they just want you to love them--kiss them. They're happier if we haven't taken a shower in a few days because it means we've been with them every second. We spend our time spinning a world for them, keeping them safe, nourished, and comfy....somewhere along the way we entered the world of selflessness and found true contentment.

I can't help but think that when we do finally wake up and look in the mirror and realize that we can, we should, we NEED to nourish ourselves as well that within that very instant shame and guilt set in. I am starting to realize that these aren't bad things--they're symptoms of being a good mother.

I am sure the paradigm shift is different for each mother. They each have their moment of standing in front of the mirror asking themselves "WHAT happened?". For some feeling lovely may lie in a haircut,  for others a simple shower, and some may actually look at themselves and embrace who they see and learn to love that new person staring back at them.  Our journeys are all different, our ideas of beauty, or what a mother looks like vary greatly. That's the beauty of our world!

We are gorgeous creatures each and every one of us. We have created life, a home, an existence for LIVING little beings, and sometimes it's OK to bust out the lip gloss and flat iron! We can take an hour schedule a massage, a pedicure, or a haircut and fly back home evolved and zen. We are women, we love to feel pretty whatever our definition of pretty is. Define your pretty in motherhood! The lovely thing about pretty in motherhood is that there are now tons of earth friendly, non-baby harming, BRILLIANT products on the market to green you glam!