Ink

Considering that it's been almost four years since I last got a tattoo and the fact that I haven't gone more than five without getting a new one since the age of 18, it is not that surprising that I "had some work done" this last week. What may be surprising is that I went for three new ones, all in one day. [Note to self: while the top of the foot does not hurt as bad as I thought it would to tattoo, two hours straight in the chair is more than plenty for me in one go. Anything longer and I would have broken out in a cold sweat. Or hives. Or both.] Here are the finished products from Thursday's appointment:

Originally when I got the itch for a new tattoo last winter, I wanted just one. A symbol for Kairos, which means God's Time and was introduced to me by the Momastery essay, Don't Carpe Diem. The basic premise is that there is no point or possibility of experiencing the divine or perfect all the time (especially as a parent of three Littles in The Tunnel!). Rather, the best approach to life (and parenting) is to look for glimpses of Kairos - the time when God is near and/or all is right in the Universe; those moments (never hours or days) are what keep us going through the rest of the crazy ride. I absolutely love the concept. So when a friend and I were discussing tattoos one night and she found the image/symbol and sent it to me, I loved it, too. I realize this particular variation of the symbol might look to some like a crusader's cross, but you know what? I am so good with that. Carry on, Warrior. Carry on, indeed. Also, I ended up choosing the top of my foot for this particular symbol so I would see it often (and especially during my yoga practices, which is its own version of grace and time to focus on the divine).

After finding a local tattoo artist recommended by some friends, I went in for a consultation. This is where the plan got more elaborate and I am so glad it did. You see, my last venture in tattoos didn't exactly go as planned. While I got a tattoo that I wanted, I found out later that there was a major miscommunication and the image I sent the artist via email prior to my appointment is not what ended up on my wrist. Should I have realized that before the ink went in? Yes. But did I take for granted that they had printed what I sent and did I also fail to bring in a printed copy of it myself? Yes and yes. So, rather than an elegant om, I ended up with this:

Still the symbol and therefore the meaning I wanted, but not the version I had originally desired. Was I disappointed? Of course. Did I think I was screwed because, hello, it was permanent ink? Of course! But flash forward four years to when I met this new tattoo artist and saw some of his other cover up work and Operation Fix It was hatched. Why not change the old om and make it what I originally wanted?

Ultimately, in order to make that change, we had to go with a brand new om on my other wrist and a mandala to cover up the old one on the left side. This was a great solution because it gave me a way to incorporate some gorgeous color onto the one side, keep the elegance on the other, and work in some more yoga to my designs. A mandala is a circular, graphic symbol for the universe or a "container of essence" found in multiple cultures and religions. It is also a series of poses in yoga that moves the practitioner in a circular flow around the mat. I've participated in mandala flows before and found them to be very satisfying. So when we needed something to cover the old design, I felt a mandala would be a great representation my yoga journey and how it is helping me fulfill my essence. Plus, like I said, the colors are soooooooooo pretty.

That, of course, leaves us with the new om - the second chance ink. The variation I have now is perfect. The size and shape are beautiful. It is elegant and it is fluid. For me, this is just what an om should be. If you are familiar with the chant some yogis do at the start/end of a practice, you know what an om sounds like: "Ooooooooommmmmmmmm." It can be high or low, short or long. It is not religious. Rather, it is the start of all sounds, and as my instructors remind us all the time, it tones us from the inside. I originally wanted an om years ago because it is all about breath (that and the first time I remember seeing the symbol as an art piece on someone's wall, it took my breath away because I thought it was so beautiful). Again, as a parent, but also as an individual, I occasionally need reminders to just breathe. It is so easy to get caught up in the chaos and my om is there, front and center, to keep me breathing and keep me in check. Does it keep me from losing my sh!t 100% of the time? Of course not. I am human. But because focusing on my breath is always a way to bring me back down, my om does its job just fine. And this new version makes my heart sing.

So who said you can't go back and make things right? Even when they're done in permanent ink?! Life is beautiful like that.

I Will Survive

What the what?! I'm writing a blog post in June and it is not Saturday, nor has it been a week since my last post? Must finally be done with teaching and grading for summer! HipHip to that. But does it surprise any of you that the need to write would arise on a Tuesday? I'm sure not. Actually, it didn't occur to me until just five minutes ago when I was sending a quick note to a friend that it even is Tuesday, but when it clicked, I thought, "Oh, yes. That fits."

So whether it was just the little Welschies having A Tuesday or the fact that I have about a million things to do before I leave for Omaha (T-minus two weeks from yesterday = start date. Whoa.) or that I'm worn-the-flip-out and just want to sit for ten minutes (by myself) or what, but yes. Today was A Day. A day where I found myself looking forward to my month-long excursion that is non-too slowly creeping up on me.

Don't get me wrong. I've got all sorts of Mommy Guilt floating around my head about the whole yoga training adventure. No qualms about Ben being OK with the kids - I know he'll be great and he'll have great help from friends and family throughout the month. It's rather the fact that I've never been away from the children from more than a couple few nights in a row before that's getting to me. And I'm going to be gone for five days a week for four weeks! Yikes. And then there's the whole trying to sustain nursing business while I'm gone. I have plenty of milk (I think!) stored up to get Lincoln through the first week and the plan is to pump while I'm away and bring that back to replenish the stock for the following week. In theory this will work just fine and when I return full-time in August, I'll be able to pick back up with breastfeeding, but what if not? What if he gives it up while I'm away? I know part of me will feel to blame and at fault should that happen. Not that I can control it, though, and not that it means I should just stay home. He's darn near one. It's going to be OK. Will someone please keep telling me that? My baby-turning-one-plus-my-oldest-baby-is-almost-five-plus-stress hormones are threatening to take over right now and I'm going to need some reminders that this is all for the greater good.

For as much as I know I'm going to miss my munchkins while I'm gone, today made me rather ready to go. Is it bad to admit that out loud? Too bad if it is, I guess, because there you have my honest answer for the day. I'm ready to not be "In It" for a wee bit and am thinking that focusing so heavily on yoga while I'm away is going to be beyond beneficial. I need some peace. I need some calm (just typed clam - no, no, no. Do not want clams!). I obviously need some sleep! I just need to be not refereeing or running to check on why so-and-so is screaming (because of teeth? poop? punches? fevers? told you that you needed to take a bath? -- trust me, I've seen all that and more in the last few days) every two seconds all day long. I'm ready for a break. Again - it is blasphemy to admit that? Does it burst the "she's got it all together" bubble? Ha! If you read along with this blog, you know I've never claimed to be all together nor do I think many people would suggest such about me (and that's OK!!), so I guess that makes it OK to put this out there - no bubble to burst in the first place!

As far as today's shenanigans went, I was left wondering, on multiple occasions, if my children would survive their childhoods. Body checking for ownership of an Anywhere Chair from PB (even though they all have one with their own freaking name on it)? Check (and no, it was not the oldest who was the offender, here). Opening the door to the stairs and then "keeping an eye on" the baby as he climbed the stairs, without an adult around? Check (and yes, it was the oldest on this one). Crying because I set him down? Because I picked him up? Because I gave him something to chew on? Because his sister took it away? Check. Check. Check. Check. I mean, seriously. Really Children?

How many times a day do you find yourself wondering how you're going to keep your kiddos safe and secure and sound of mind, body, and spirit? And how many times do you find yourself wondering if you'll survive their childhoods? Because that's where I ended up by suppertime tonight. Wondering not only if I'll be able to keep them in one piece but also if I'll be whole when it's all said and done, too. Not that I'm on the verge of cracking up or falling apart...just acknowledging that this season of life is going to leave its mark on me.

I guess the imprint of these years on my person will be just like another one of my tattoos - a way to remember who I was at a given point in time, to show me how I've grown, and to remind me of what matters (and of course my crazy-making Littles matter more than anything).

Follow the Sun

Another week, another lack of writing. So it goes in a crazy busy month. Thankfully some of the crazy is done (finished my three-week teaching at CCC yesterday - whoohoo!) and I have two weeks before the next crazy (four-week intensive yoga teacher training in Omaha) begins (holy wow!). And I'm throwing out another "thankfully" today because this morning was an all-around kick-ass way to celebrate the end of the "semester" and honor the change to the new season.

We had some storms roll through last night that not only interrupted our sleep (well, mine and Ben's, not the kids, fortunately) but also pushed our morning plans (watching the Hastings Marathon from the sidelines in a friend's front yard by Heartwell Park) back a bit. Lightning and whatnot made for a much later start for the races, but that allowed our little fam plenty of time to get all the way to the start line instead of just the route and a chance to visit with some friends pre-race. [Also, a side note....I thought I was done with running. I thought I was at peace with being done with running. This morning, being surrounded by the excitement of pre-race jitters and just the awesomeness that is the world of runners, I felt a longing to be back at it. Who knows. Maybe with the help of yoga and my chiropractor, I could do it again? I guess we'll see.]

After both the full and the half groups started, we headed back to the park with the intention of making it back to the original plan of the friend's front yard. Except then we got sidetracked by running into a different friend and her daughter who were manning a corner of the route and we started chatting and helping them clear sticks from the path. And before long, our whole little fam became accidental volunteers. We were helping direct traffic (HD was hilarious, standing there with a finger pointing the way they should go) and cheering (the kids lined up to give the runners high-fives which was beyond cute, but I felt bad because in order to hit Miss Raegan's hand, a lot of them had to stoop as they ran past her. I mean, what's a little extra thigh workout when you're running 13.1 or 26.2 miles, right?!). Although we didn't get to see everyone we knew who was running, we thoroughly enjoyed our hour, forty-five trek to spectate, guide, and cheer at the race, but we were on a time crunch because this mama had a marathon of her own to complete this morning.

In honor of the summer solstice, my dear yoga studio held an extended class this morning that consisted solely of 108 sun salutations. The number has to do with a lot of alignments in the universe and the body/soul, and this is something that some yogis do to mark the changing seasons. If you're not familiar with an SS, here's the quick breakdown: start with hands at heart center/inhale arms up/forward fold/inhale to table (straight back, hands on shins)/exhale forward fold and step back to plank (or kneeling plank which was the case for me for 103 of mine today)/chaturanga (move from plank down so your elbows are at 90 degrees, then scoop up into cobra or up dog)/down dog/step forward to forward fold/inhale up to table/exhale forward fold/inhale all the way/exhale hands to heart center. That's one. Not even kidding. Now do you see why I opted to do kneeling plank for 103?! Wowzers.

But really? It was amazing. There were lots of people participating this morning and our fearless leader took us through in sets of 25 as she counted for us, allowing us to do/count the last 8 on our own (which is no small feat after you've taken your body and brain through that many rounds). Have I said yet that it was amazing? It was also challenging. I did the first five with full-on chaturangas and thought, "Oh. This is easy. I've got this." And then my pride caught up with me and I quickly lost count and realized that there was no way in samhell that I was going to do all them without my knees ever touching the ground. There's no room for pride (or potential injury) with July looming on the horizon.

After the first 25, we all smiled, got some water, and wiped the sweat that was starting to drip. After our second 25, we clapped and cheered a bit and wiped more sweat. After the third 25? Seriously, that was the worst set for me. I kept thinking, "Aren't we done yet? This is taking forever!" which prompted me to count in my head during the final 25 so I would know exactly where we were and how much was left. That was actually the easiest set. I think I could see the "finish line" at that point and was pretty damn impressed that I'd already done 75 without having to take a break in child's pose or sit out at all. Actually, everyone in the studio kicked ass the whole time, with every single person not only finishing, but doing so strongly and well. Needless to say, there were lots of smiles, high-fives, and even some champagne(!) when we were all said and done!

Like any yoga practice, doing 108 sun salutations is best when you have an intention in mind - a dedication for your practice. There is a song by one of my favorite yoga-introduced artists, Xavier Rudd, called "Follow the Sun" (you should totally check out the whole song here) that's been going through my head for days leading up to this morning  for its title (duh) and its message:

Follow, follow the sun and which way the wind blows 

when this day is done.

Breathe, breathe in the air. 

Set your intentions. Dream with care. 

Tomorrow is a new day for everyone,

Brand new moon, brand new sun. 

So follow, follow the sun,

the direction of the birds,

the direction of love.

 For me, on my inaugural 108, my intention was all about completion. I was dedicated and determined (some might call me stubborn) to finish. I didn't actually care if I did them all at the studio or if I had to finish up later at home, but once we got going, I realized that I would be able to meet my intention and I'd be able to do it there. Pretty amazing (sorry. my brain is fried from the last three weeks of teaching and clearly I need a thesaurus because how many times have I used the word "amazing" in this post?). 

I also chose to look at my practice this morning as a great start to the adventure that awaits me in Omaha. I've seen my syllabus now for the four weeks and I am in awe of all that we are going to do and learn. Completing the sun salutation challenge today showed me that I am strong and I am determined and I can do this. I just need to follow the sun, the birds, and the love, and wow, good things are going to come. So are sore muscles (having HD sit on my legs to take this picture post-108? Horrible!). But so are lots and lots of smiles. Namaste.

P.S. I totally wore my craziest pants on purpose today. Gotta be fierce and bold for 108! 

Shout Out from The Tunnel

Oh.Kay. Apparently I am just not destined to write much this June. I blame teaching (from a new text which, let's be real, means totally revamping my shtuff as I go), the June stomach flu, and Orange is the New Black (which we finished last night and was totally awesome but did not leave any free time in the last week for anything other than as many episodes as we could cram into each night during the glorious evening hours that exist post-Littles'-bedtime and in conjunction with my crazy yoga schedule). It's not that I don't have things to say. In fact, I have about three posts rattling around in my head these days and snippets of them come to me during class (composition and yoga, oops) all the time, but dedicated writing time has been sparse. I'd like to think that will get better, but with one week of teaching to go, two weeks "off," and then four weeks of holy-mother-of-wow-this-is-going-to-be-amazing-and-oh-so-challenging-intensive-yoga-teacher-training, I'm not so sure. Of course I'm hoping to keep you all apprised of the training and I'm even trying to convince Ben that he should guest post here about the kids while I'm off doing my thing in Omaha, but who knows. Like so many of us, there are so many things - All. The. Things! - that I want to see come into being, but Life in the Tunnel doesn't always allow for such.

Have I explained the Tunnel before? The Tunnel of Parenthood is a blog post a friend shared with me, geez, when Raegan was still a tiny babe, and because it is one of those ideas constantly rattling around in my brain, I can't even remember if I've ever written about it or not. If I have, I apologize for the repetition, but either way, it's a pretty amazing concept and probably worth talking about multiple times. While I highly suggest reading the post itself, the main focus of it is about how you shouldn't make decisions about how many kids to have while you have itty-bittys in your midst and that's not really my point in sharing it with you here. It makes no difference to me if your babies are fur babies (trust me, I have not forgotten how demanding two little dogs can be) or if you want one, three, or seven kids. My focus here is the concept she mentions about The Tunnel - this crazy season of life place that exists when you have children in your home age five and under, and how demanding and difficult this age range is for parents. And the best part (and most truest of truthy truth in it?) is how she explains that for each kid you add in the window of Aged 0-5 at the same time, your Tunnel intensifies. You are physically and emotionally and mentally needed. All. The. Time. It's amazing and it's exhausting. It is Life in the Tunnel.

Thankfully, last fall, I found a spot for myself in the middle of our crazy and chaos. As you know, after a little trial and error, I found my way back to the yoga mat and it was an instant fit. I felt at home and felt like a real live individual again for the first time in a long time. And now I have very-soon-to-be plans for being able to share that practice and peace with others which has me super excited and jazzed about everything to come. However, when I say peace, please don't think I'm walking around all zen all  the time. Did you not just read my brief explanation of the Tunnel? I'm in it, times three, so even though I have something that helps me feel like me on a regular basis, I still have plenty of struggles with sanity  and perspective that keep me humble and keep me striving for improvement.

One of my current struggles, which feels amplified by my current season of life not to mention my teaching part-time and getting ready to be a weekly commuter student for a month, is that I feel like I hardly ever see anyone. Whereas we used to go visit our parents every other month or so, I'm now lucky if I make it to SoDak more than twice a year, and even getting to my in-laws (which isn't all that far away) is tricky; the sheer amount of stuff that is required to schlep three kids anywhere is intense and so we stay put as much as possible to keep the kids in their routines and ourselves in our right minds. And as for getting together with friends? Well, unless they happen to show up at the yoga studio (where, man, I love seeing people!) or we arrange a play date with our kiddos, I just haven't had much social time lately. Having sick kids never helps and let's face it, everyone gets crazy busy in spring and summer.

But as I was just saying (OK, writing in a Facebook message because fb is about the only way I seem to keep in touch with people right now, even my friends who live in the same town as me) to a friend the other day, I am struggling with this lack of face time (real face time, not on a phone or via the computer) because my current season of life has also given me a fierce need for friendship. Let's face it - Mamahood can be terribly isolating. For me, my first two years as a mama were hard. I didn't know many stay-at-home mamas at the time and so during the weekdays, my interaction with other adults was pretty darn limited. Thanks to some time and stepping out of my comfort zones, I have since met a wide range of mamas and made many great mama friends. We don't all walk the same path and we don't all do things the same way when it comes to our kids, but I'm grateful for all the love, support, and "Me too!"s I have gotten in the last two and a half years from these women - from you. So while part of me wants to start humming the lines, "Don't wanna be, all by myself" (which that recent viral video totally got stuck in my head anyway) because I feel so busy and so disconnected from people right now, I know that many of the mamas I know are doing the exact same thing as me - slogging through their own Tunnels, doing the best they know how for themselves and their Littles. I am right there with you, Mama, waving my flashlight and saying, "Wanna grab coffee? In like five years?"

+++++++++++++++++

So I wrote this Saturday morning and then found this link on HuffPo tonight. Holy majoly. It fits.

June Bug

Normally, I don't go a week+ without writing. And normally I don't take an entire week of a new month to log a post on my blog. But - thank God - normally we also don't have five out of seven days in one week where a new family member comes down with the flu, which is what our last Friday-Friday looked like.

If you've been following along with the Facebook photos, you've seen these already, but here's the illustrated tale of How June Kicked the Welschies' Bums:

I started the flu right as I was getting ready for bed last Friday night. Talk about poor timing. After two nights of almost non-existent sleep Wednesday and Thursday, I was soooo tired Friday. But instead of sleeping, I spent the next 5+ hours running to the bathroom. Awful. And it left me zombified all of Saturday and only partially functional Sunday. Did I mention that I started teaching my summer class at CCC on Monday? So in addition to recovering from the flu, I was trying to get ready to jump into full-time teaching mode. Summer classes are awesome (I usually get some really dedicated students and the time frame is short - three weeks), but the time frame is short and therefore very intense (each day = a week in a normal semester, minus the extra time in between classes for turn-around and response). Again, poor timing. Miss Raegan looks super sad in this photo because she was battling a head cold which she shared with me to make my flu recovery extra special. 

Flash forward to Tuesday. In that awesome way that germs do, we had just enough peace between my illness and the rest of the family getting it that I was lulled into thinking we were in the clear. Ha. HA. HA! Bwahahahaha! (that would be the universe laughing at me, by the way). Oh, no. Not clear at all. Rather, Harrison woke up early-mid-morning Tuesday with the icks and spent the next six hours (we saw a real trend with the whole just six-hour thing, thankfully, but wow, what a six hours it could be) miserable. And then he took a nap in the middle of the day which you know never happens unless the kid is Sick. Thank goodness he made such a quick recovery though and never spiked any big fevers; he was able to go back to VBS with his buddies and enjoy the rest of his week. 

Technically, Lincoln didn't even wait 24 hours to start his bout with the tummy bug after Harrison fell victim Tuesday morning. LT woke up from his afternoon nap Tuesday covered in mess and I had to call the doctor's office because I have never had one so little with the flu and had no idea what to do. Also, technically, Lincoln's bout lasted longer but had less frequency than the rest of us, so it continued to be challenging to know quite what to do with him. I stayed home from campus Wednesday morning which was also a bit of a circus, but so it goes with a sick babe. His thankfully came Wednesday afternoon when he woke up clean and dry from his nap and we knew we were in the clear with him. 

 Flash forward again, this time to Thursday. I had a friend come over to visit after the kids went to bed and we were having a lovely time/chat when all of the sudden, about 35 minutes after the kids went upstairs, we could hear this awful sobbing, crying coming from RL upstairs. Ben went to check on her and sure enough, it was her turn to take a turn for the worse. We relocated her to the bean bag in the living room where she and Ben stayed for, you guessed it, the next six hours. Like her mama, Raegan has had the hardest time recovering because her flu messed with her sleep the most. Two days later and she's still dragging a bit. 

Of course that leaves Ben as our final victim of the June Bug but I don't have any pictures of him; he thought I was nuts to keep taking/posting pictures of sick kids all week so I didn't bother him with the camera when he started feeling awful yesterday afternoon. His thankfully came in that his duration/frequency was the least of all of us and I was beyond thankful that he waited until Friday afternoon because then at least I was done teaching for the week. 

So, yes. On top of my status of Working Woman and trying to cram in as much yoga training as possible before teacher training comes in July, it has been what we'll call a "Helluva Week" here. No wonder I haven't been blogging!