Mom on the Move


Image

Move

/moov/. verb. 1. go in a specified direction or manner; change position. 2. change or cause to change from one state, opinion, sphere, or activity to another.

noun. 1. a change of place, position or state.

My day started with a tearful Jax sullenly dragging his sleepy body back to his bedroom. Mike and I were pajama-less and I told Jax he could hang out with us on top of the covers or go back to bed in his own room. Taking my response as total rejection, iridescent globes of his pure little heart welled up at the edge of his eyes and silently slid down his sun-kissed and freckled cheeks. I struggled to rush through the waking process, trying to use my hands to sit myself up and rub away the sleep all at once, accomplishing neither. His crushing sobs bounced down the hallway which contorted the sound into an almost laugh or squawk which confused my morning mush-brain even more. By the time I located my robe, haphazardly discarded on Mike’s side of the bed, and plodded down the hall to my middle son’s room; I found him cocooned in 3 layers of blankets. Consoled by his stuffies, which were dutifully snuggled underneath his chin. One of his favorites, a corn-flower blue fuzzy bunny shielded Jax’s eye with a floppy ear. His face full of peace. I would have thought I dreamt the whole event had there not been the telling streaks of dried tears on his freckled face. Jax had been sleep walking again.

Like the other moments before, Jax would not remember this interaction. I, however, am left with the feeling of moving through a moment without being able to … i don’t know… what am I left with? A moment that I am experiencing alone, and yet not alone? So… weird.

On todays agenda was to hike with a new friend. We became acquainted through Jax’s friendship with her son: a really fun, spirited kid Jax loves to be around.

We had talked about getting together to hike for weeks. I had noticed something going on with her. Today she confides that she and her husband are separated with the intention of divorce. My heart felt so heavy for her. One look in here eyes and I could see the steps she walked were made with thoughtfulness and intent. Yet, I wanted to take her hand and start to just run. Run down the block and jump off the concrete street as if it were a runway and take off into the brilliant sapphire sky. I wanted to help her glide through the clouds and have the wind wick away the tears and hurt she was so honestly showcasing despite our fledgling friendship.

Instead, we hiked; we took off into the winding paths of Lake Chabot. As we talked and pumped our healthy legs to the rhythm of our raw truths, the world looked like velvet. The landscape, a blanket for our honest and raw words to softly land, despite the sweat-filled pounding of our feet. It was as if we were the toddlers Mother Earth held close to her belly and let us beat our fists against.

As our hearts pumped with action both verbal and physical, we were safe. Discovering new pieces of each other and realizing how alike we may be. I tried to keep my listening ears on and not talk so much or offer my suggestions; just listen. I didn’t do as well as I wanted too. I did my best in that moment.

I felt honored she shared such an intimate moment with me and trusted me enough to be so real. When I looked at her, as we finished our walk, I saw such a strong woman -walking in the present and toward the future she had not foreseen -with the purpose of being the best woman and mother she can be.

I was moved. Empowered, I hope to model some of her strength and intention into my day. What am I not doing for myself that I should be doing? What is the truth that I am not speaking? What actions am I not holding myself accountable for?

Maybe my feeling of being challenged by my sister-in-laws comment of “having all the extra time now that Ziva is in school, why was I not writing?” she asked, “What am I filling my time up with these other projects if writing is what I am passionate about?” Instead of saying, “good question!” I felt defensive and dismissed it. Now, in this moment… I see what she sees; why am I not being true to myself and putting this passion first (or even 5th!) No one is asking me to be a martyr or to have the cleanest house on the block.

Working on being real, letting people in and learning to trust and share my inner thoughts is what I should be practicing. Not worrying about what people will think if my kitchen floor has layers of dog hair, squashed strawberry tops and coffee grounds. If they are real friends, they will know that 3 kids, 2 dogs, 1 cat and a busy husband leads to an always moving household.

Though I love the pictures in my Dwell magazine and Architect Digest, they are no match for the epic pillow fights that spontaneously erupt in my front room. Or the awesome dance parties we have to shake off a funky day.

It is only 1:18PM and already I have learned a lot…the day is not nearly over. I am excited to go, walk, proceed, progress, advance, change, budge, shift, act; to Move.

What about you?

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve!

Best!

Kimberly Crawford

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Mom on the Move

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s