good bye dear friend

Dear bed,

I think you may as well know. We are getting a new bed tomorrow. I am truly excited. A Superking (which is a normal King in the US). It will be HUGE. I look forward to the acres of space for all the sleeping beings in there. I look forward to a fresh mattress. New sheets. Yum.

And yet, yes, I am sad.  I have always thought one of the most depressing sights was seeing a discarded mattress on the side of the road, awaiting the garbage men. No doubt that mattress was the refuge of many wonderful nights of sleep, love, tears, conception, naps, cuddles, piles of clothes, and comfort. Seems so wrong to discard it all naked and stained to the world's cruel view.

We got you when you were going to be just "Mark's bed" in 2002 in Washington DC. I remember helping pick you out in the shop, feeling very grown up and proud that I was being consulted for such an intimate  purchase. I was the girlfriend and it gave me peace to think I could contribute my opinion on such a long term item. I remember thinking you were worth every penny for your pillow-top dreaminess.

Who knew that 9 years later I would be saying good bye to you after making you my own.

I have always loved you and felt you were a safe and welcoming place I could hide, dream, escape and unwind. You've earned your retirement. You sag. You've been subjected to all manner of new stains and indignities thanks to a new family member. And, bed, don't take this the wrong way, but you may have bugs.

We had some good times. You've seen us through 5 moves in 3 countries and never let us down.

Thank you for being such a good resting place. And don't worry, the nice men who are bringing your replacement to us will wrap you up and take you to your final sleep.

Night night.

intentions

First of all, can I just say how much I miss having time to write in my blog?

Sometimes, as I lie in bed for the 20 minutes I am trying to fall asleep IMMEDIATELY after Lewis does to take full advantage of maximum sleep hours, I think of things I am dealing with, enjoying, noticing about me, the world, etc ...

All very blog worthy and yet I find about 12 minutes a day when I am not feeding, (which to be fair sometimes gives me a one handed computer access which I waste on Facebook), burping, soothing, changing, or otherwise futzing with the boy.

I really admire the Moms who write. Moms with little ones. How do they do it? Check out the blogs I follow and you'll find really funny, clever and well written stuff by busy people.

So I have these thoughts and then they go ... away ... as the days tick off and the calendar turns.

But here is one notion that stuck and I was determined to use part of my 12 minutes to capture it.

In Leadership we often started the day with one word intentions .. something we would hang our hats on for the day. It was how we wanted to be, show up or create.

And I have come up with the intention that captures this period of time for me.

Surrender.

I can't blog like I used to. Or read. Or watch TV. Or talk to friends. Or stay out past 7. Or drink. Or do so many things. And when I try, I end up frustrated. Things are interrupted. Baby cries. Needs attention. Constantly.

Yet, when I surrender to this new way of life and redirect my attentions and energies and tune into my newborn baby, it flows. We laugh and smile and coo. And cry and sleep. I match his energy rather than force my own on him and it works much much better. I give up trying to do all the things I did before. But I am getting something new.

He will only ever be this age once. I will only ever be a first time mother of a newborn once. His head will only smell this sweet for a limited time. Surrendering to the moment and savouring a bit brings me really really present to this weird altered and mostly very very lovely time.

And I am rewarded with the occasional 12 minutes of time to reflect. Or brush my teeth. Or make a sandwich. Or maybe even write.

So if I am not blogging, know it is because I have stopped. I have surrendered.

And I am probably on Facebook. With one hand.

But I'll be smelling the delicious baby while I am at it.