and then I saw me

I was once a fair haired, dark eyed creature who ran through the forest giggling, weaving tales; full of creative joys and insights. Enchantment and magic ran with me. Red rubber boots and a dress pulled over jeans because that’s the uniform for all good adventures. I was fully me. I loved people with my sweet innocence. No one saw me, but I didn’t care, I ran with nymphs in fairytales

…until I did, until I cared, until I wondered why no one “saw me” and then I stopped being me. I became something I thought worth seeing. “See me” I would shout. “See me” I would cry. I began the work that would get me seen. And yet, I was always shouting, “See me”.  “See me” I am doing the right things. “See me” I am standing on the soap box. “See me” I have morphed enough to seem like you. Can you see me now? And the magic slipped away with the fair haired, dark eyed creature.

And then I saw me. 

It took so long. Waiting to be seen. And then I saw me. Only a glimpse. Far off, running through the trees, disappearing in shadows. Giggling. Weaving tales. Like a whisper.

Now a tall, strong, dark eyed creature with just a wisp of fair hair to remind me how to run. Creases are now maps of paths walked and rewalked. I make trails through the forest and conjure stories inspired by old lore. My feet move more sure with each step, retracing and making new.

And now I see you. What story do you need to tell? 

for the love of motherhood

I was recently challenged to write a “rant” about my industry, but it morphed into a bit of a lament on motherhood. It’s a work in progress. I would like to acknowledge that this isn’t everyone’s experience, but it does reflect some of my experience and that of many of the women I speak to.

We all feel like we are not good enough. We all worry that we are messing up our kids. Better save now for a good therapist. 

We are told we can have it all, but we feel like we aren’t doing any of it well.

We often feel lost in the trenches. 

We can’t see the forest through the trees. 

We think that we “should” be able to handle this on our own, but we’re not. 

We think we “should” be steeping in the kid love and magic (and sometimes we do), but we often just feel like we’re drowning. 

And we feel really guilty about all the “shoulds” that we just aren’t doing. 

We are stuck in our family bumble of cute, but crazy-making mess. 

And we feel like we are holding all the weight. 

We don’t even know what would help. 

We are swimming with arm inflatables, but really need a boat, a really big, practical boat, to keep things afloat…better yet, let’s just move it all to the beach. 

We’re dodging nerf bullets and splitting up fights over frilly skirts and cheerios. 

We are bombarded with advice from all sides; parenting experts, people without kids, strangers in the supermarket, facebook memes, our own parents, other parents, groups that we think are on the same page as us, but end up telling us how wrong we’re getting it. 

“Your kids stare at their screens too much.”

“Your kids are over scheduled.”

“Your kids don’t play outside enough.” 

“Your kids shouldn’t be outside by themselves.” 

“Don’t helicopter. Free range. Don’t free range, but don’t helicopter.” 

“Stop saying, “Don’t”!” 

“Your kids don’t say ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ enough.” 

“Your kids are so spoilt and disrespectful.”

“Your kids talk back too much.”

“Do this.”

“Don’t do that.”

And the list goes on and on. 

And we slip deeper and deeper into the sense that we just have to push through it alone and voiceless. 

Where’s the village? 

We long for non-judgmental support. 

We long for authentic connection.

We long for meaningful communication.

We long to sit at a table of grace.

We long to share the weight when it comes to all the organizing and getting shit done. 

We long to share the mental and emotional load without having to demand it.

We long to bring what we loved about ourselves pre-kid into what is our current reality. 

We long to be heard. 

We long to know who we are in all the craziness. 

We long for a Village. 

We long for someone to reach out. 

I waited and waited for someone to reach out…and no one did. And then I realized that it had to be me, I had to reach out. And when I did, there were other moms right there with her hands out stretched, waiting and longing for the same things. 

It has become my purpose and passion to create spaces of real, meaningful, non-judgmental support for parents, particularly moms; support that taps into your own wisdom or inner knowing, so you can be more compassionate and connecting with yourself, your partner, your family and even your community. My work centres around figuring out what is most important to you and how to bring those things into alignment with day to day living. Together we’ll move from “I feel lost” to “I am found”.

A great deal of my work takes place through one-on-one coaching over the phone, one-on-one in home coaching while we work on an area of clutter, workshops on family life and relationships, group sessions for moms, and circle style meet ups. I utilize my passion for simplicity and practical mindfulness in all that I do because these two concepts made the biggest difference in my mothering journey.

And know this, I love you moms! It’s sounds so cheesy, but if I could just hold all the moms in one giant hug, I totally would.