This girl is learning

Let it be known that this old dog can learn new-ish tricks. This past year has been plump full of joy (anyone who knows me, knows it's all because of Ruby) for me but it has also been chock-full of stress and anxiety. Well, it continues to get worse instead of better, despite my best efforts to turn things in a positive direction. Last week, after a particularly stressful, angst-ridden few days, I met with my Buddha (Marty). I hashed things out and even when I wasn't feeling particularly upset, the tears were falling. I wasn't even crying, but the tears just fell. I was thinking to myself that I had been a lot more upset the past few days and didn't cried then, but now, when I'm expressing myself to one of the people I trust most on this earth, the tears just fall. I couldn't stop them but they made me realize that underneath the stress and anxiety is just a whole lot of sadness. Sad that life has to be this way.

At the end of my session with Buddha, he asked me if I had been praying and keeping my faith in God strong. Now, faith and religion are not something we often discuss, mostly because we both have struggled with it a lot. But I told Buddha that I had been trying and on my way out of his office, I was feeling guilty. I realized that actually, no, I hadn't been praying or keeping faith. It all sounds good, but I couldn't honestly say that I was putting any special effort or focus on that. So, I decided to change that. The last few days I have been consciously praying - not just the whispered half-prayers as I'm driving or the joined prayers I say with Ruby before I put her to bed, but sit down and meditate on God type of prayers that I have been neglecting lately. Choosing my words carefully and earnestly and focusing my mind on God, and not crashing cars as I'm changing lanes.

Last night, when I had a few hours to myself, I let the laundry wait; the tv off; list of to-do items on the kitchen table waiting for me to cross them off. I sat in my living room in the quiet and prayed. I put my heart into every single word I prayed. I didn't cry. I didn't laugh or get angry. I just opened myself up to God and let it all out, without expectation or judgment.

The level of peace in my heart has risen exponentially. Yes, the stress and anxiety are still there somewhat, but there is a whole lot more peace and comfort. Of feeling less alone. Of hope. HOPE. It feels so much like when I take the time to talk to God, He takes the time to talk back to me. But I know that's not true. He's always talking to me; waiting for me to turn to Him. He's always waiting for me to realize, to listen.

Well, here I am God. Here I am.

Growing up

Dear Ruby,

In the last three months you have 1) started walking, 2) quit the bedtime bottles, 3) cut 2 more teeth (for a total of 6!), and 4) become more vivacious and fun than I could have ever dreamed.

My mornings are filled with occupying you while I get ready for work. As I'm applying makeup and fixing my hair, you are going through the drawers in the bathroom, pulling Q-tip after Q-tip out of the box, and when I deter you from that, you turn to the cotton balls. One cotton ball after another onto the floor. I ask you to pick them up, which you do eventually, but you'd rather empty the bag first. After you have carefully placed the (contaminated) cotton balls back into the bag, you clap and cheer for yourself, while I cheer and laugh at how proud you are. When you are through with that drawer, you dump your bath toys into the bathtub and then attempt to fish them out. Often times I have to catch you from falling head first into the bathtub. You find this hilarious. If you are still too sleepy to do much exploring when you first wake up, you sit quietly on the bathroom floor and drink some juice with your blanket snuggled around you and watch me get ready. This doesn't happen too often, but when it does, you do not want to be in your crib, slowly waking up and embracing the day. Actually, that's always the case: you never want to be in your crib. You want to be with me 24/7.

If I'm scrubbing the floor, or cleaning the toilet, or just chilling in the living room, you are never more than a couple feet away. When I'm bustling from room to room, trying to remove the clutter and constant mess, you are always one step behind me, eager and ready to tear apart my hard work. Every half hour or so, you come in close, wrapping your arms around my legs and look up at me with huge, pleading eyes, as if to just check in. I have to (HAVE TO) pick you up, wrap you in a huge snuggle and a few kisses, to remind you that even though I have work to do, I love your company and I love that you "help" me. After a few minutes, I set you down and resume working. You pick up your sandbox rake, or measuring spoons, or whisk (whatever utensil catches your fancy that day) and return to "helping" me.

You are so loving and vivacious. I have had a couple people tell me that there is something special about you. I know that. I've known it since I was pregnant with you. "This belly here, this is something special." Of course, it would be rude of me to say so openly, but the secret is not so secret anymore. You light up a room, Rubes. Last weekend, we made a trip to Target, and you were impatient with me and squirming in the cart. I had all I could do to keep you occupied and I'm sure I was making a fool out of myself talking and singing in whispers trying to keep you entertained as I'm browsing the orange juice. Soon, though, you turned yourself in your seat and climbed to your knees (yes, you were strapped in), and proceeded to wave and say "hi! hi!" to everyone you saw. I saw stranger's eyes light up. They smiled and waved hello back. It was amazing. One older gentleman came closer to examine your hair and say hello, and while you grinned at him, you reached an arm back to me to make sure I was still close. I put my hand upon your back so you knew you were safe and that I wouldn't leave you. The reassurance between us (that you still need me and that I am always there for you) was sweet. The love and happiness that moment gave me will fulfill me forever.

I have such a contentedness when you are with me, Ruby. I feel like I'm complete. When I am at work, or running errands on my lunch hour, I feel like I'm missing my right hand. I've been thinking about this for a while now, wondering how I could possibly feel so lost without you next to me. One would think I would feel free or unencumbered, because, let's face it: you are a handful. But the opposite is true and I think I have figured out why. It's because you are my heart. When you are not with me, I don't have my heart, my reason for living and breathing, with me. You are not a piece of my heart or in my heart, you are my heart.

All my love,

Mama