meditations of a blueberry

"Hurry up! Let's go, let's go, let's go," I said to my toddler as he inspected the long grass, seemingly unaware to my urging to move his little body faster. I could feel my frustration and anxiety mounting inside me. We were going to be late. Again. And my sweet little man was completely oblivious to everything but that stupid grass. Finally, I picked him up and carried him alongside his sister as we rushed to get my oldest off the bus. I had left early. It's literally a 2 minute walk to the bus. I don't understand how we were running late. Yet here we were. Late and rushing. Again. In the last few years, I've tried really hard to not rush and to instead slow down. I haven't always succeeded, but I have tried. When you're rushing and hurrying everyone up, sometimes you miss amazing moments. Like when my toddler inspects the long grass and lays down like he's a lion stalking his prey. Or when the baby sees her brothers beside her and laugh

I have spent much of my life questioning my worth. Wondering if I was smart enough, pretty enough, thin enough. Wondering how I could make myself organized enough, patient enough, "mom" enough. Wondering if anyone could see how much I was faking it trying to be enough and wondering what they would do when they found out the truth. Well, here is the truth that I am finally starting to believe (after 33 years, 10 years of marriage, 5 children, and 2 university degrees). I am enough. And so are you. That's right. Just as we are. Flaws and everything. Know why?  Because God doesn't make junk. If you don't believe in God, then replace "God" with whatever word you'd like  (Allah, nature, biology, whatever). Even diamonds have flaws if you look closely enough, and yet even the most flaw filled diamond still shines brightly under the right light. We are enough too. And we can shine brightly no matter our flaws. I'm impati

My body is in a holding pattern. Six months later and my body is still very much postpartum. And why shouldn't it be? Six months ago my body was growing an 11 lb 6 oz baby. My fourth. My third large baby. Of course my body has not "bounced back." It shouldn't. And I shouldn't expect it to. My body has done an amazing thing. It has grown and nourished 4 babies. It has stretched to unbelievable sizes to accomodate large babies. It doesn't need to bounce back. It needs to be loved. It needs me to love it. This body is mine. It's not perfect but it's mine. It's a soft place to land for my kids. These strong arms lift up and fly my kids around the room. These legs carry my body about my day. This still round belly is the perfect place for the baby to snuggle into. Eventually I will heal my diastasis. I may or may not lose the weight. I may or may not fit into my smaller clothes. It doesn't matter. The future doesn't matter. I will not put my

The smell of new pencils and blank paper is in the air. The excitement of kids and parents alike is thick and hangs amongst the sales racks of nonmarking shoes and first day of school clothes. Backpacks that are much too big for little bodies are stuffed full to the brim with kleenex, glue sticks, and Crayola markers. Busses are shiny and clean. Teachers are lovingly arranging their classrooms so they are inviting and organized, hopeful for the learning that will occur shortly. September. Back to school. My biggest starts Grade 1 this year. I'm not really sure how that's possible, but here we are all the same. It seems like yesterday he was a wee babe. Nursing all hours of the night. Laughing and giggling as he watched the fan above him. I swear just this morning he was taking his first steps down our hallway in the condo. And now he's six. I'm sure by the time I blink again he will be heading into Grade 12 and I will wonder what happened to the last 12 years. Time. S