The Year of the Fox

I've been seeing foxes everywhere - stuffed foxes, fox mugs, fox pajamas. Each time, I stop and marvel a bit before snapping a picture. At first, the abundance of foxes made me feel like I was a trendsetter, like maybe I should sing Barbara Mandrell's classic country song, "I Was Country (When Country Wasn't Cool)" but change all the words to something fox-related. Now, I'm starting to take it as a sign.

This seems to be the Year of the Fox.

When I typed that as the title of this post, I did a little google search and found some weird Canadian zodiac site that had years associated with animals much like the Chinese zodiac. While the Chinese zodiac doesn't have a fox, the knock-off Canadian one does and I read the following:

People born in the Year of the Fox are the erratic geniuses of the cycle. Clever, skillful, and flexible, they are remarkably inventive and original and can solve the most difficult problems with ease. There are few fields in which Fox people wouldn't be successful but they have a disconcerting habit of being too agreeable. They want to do things now, and if they cannot get started immediately, they become discouraged and sometimes leave their projects.

That sounds just like me in many ways and then I looked at the years associated with the sly fox and lo - there it was...1968, my year.

I take back all the snarky things I've said about Canadians (hey there, Susan - I'm thinking aboot you) - Canadians obviously get me.

So, yes, I am going to proceed as if this is the Year of the Fox - my year. It's time to face my fears and start putting all of my energy into making dreams reality.

In that spirit, I am excited to share some news with all of you.

First, Listen To Your Mother Twin Cities has a venue and a date - our show will take place on the evening of May 9th at the Riverview Theater! An announcement regarding submissions and auditions will be coming soon so keep checking our website for information.

On a more personal note, I was selected for a Beyond the Pure Fellowship for 2013. When I submitted my application, I needed a goal and mine was to finish and pitch my collection of essays. So, I guess I'm going to have to finish it, huh? In December, as part of my work at the Loft, I had to complete an overview of my book and it was scary and exciting all at once because I see it now. It has a title and 17 chapters and I know all that has been written and what has to be finished and it's there, right within my reach.

It's the Year of the Fox. Take note, 2013 - I'm coming for you.

Snowman Pants

I have an old pair of flannel pajama pants covered in snowmen. They are soft and faded and comfortable to wear around the house. Luisa bought them for me almost 12 years ago when I was pregnant with Miguel and I wore them often that winter and lived in them when I was pregnant with Zeca a few years later.

I still wear them though they are too big and sag on my hips which makes them too long. I trip over them sometimes so I often walk through the house holding up the pant legs like a lady holding up her  petticoats as she steps over a puddle.

Most of the time, I love the comfort they provide, love the memories associated with them.

On Monday, however, I was feeling low and when I put them on that evening, I felt old and fat. I texted Luisa and told her that and she said sweet reassuring things and I continued to vent my self-doubt and she then suggested that I change pants.

I didn't though. I just sighed and moped around the house before turning my attention to dinner.

When Luisa and the kids arrived home, I was standing at the stove cooking and Zeca was the first one in the door.  She saw me and smiled the biggest smile and then dropped her bag and walked over to me,  "Oh Mama...you look so cute in those snowman pants!" "Really?" I asked. "Yes, so cute." And then she gave me a hug and bounced away to get ready for dinner.

Later, after the kids were in bed, I asked Luisa if she had said anything to Zeca about my texts and the pants. She said that she hadn't which meant that Zeca's words were true to her. She didn't know that I was having a bad day, that I felt old and fat. She saw me in the way a kid sees someone they love - in the best possible way.

Aging is a tricky thing and body image issues will always plague me but, sometimes, having my daughter think I am cute is enough.

And that night...it was everything.

Good Books

We've been going through old pictures and came across this picture of Miguel taken when he was two. I remember those overalls so well, remember the feel of his fat little feet as I strapped them into those sandals. Just looking at the picture, I can almost feel the stickiness of his skin from the heat of summer, popsicles and playing in the grass. Life was simpler then. One kid, two parents - those are some good odds.

Our struggles were simpler then. The biggest challenge was his tendency to dart away from us in crowds and crossing the street. We were always able to catch him and carry him back.

I was tempted to write that he was simpler then but I know that's not true. We just hadn't yet seen all of who he was becoming.

We still haven't seen all of who he is and that is part of the gift of having kids. You get to watch a person become themselves.

Of course, there are days when I don't think it's a gift at all. I want to know how the kids turn out. I want to fly ahead to the future and assess the outcome. Are they loved? Are they kind? Are they happy? Do they play too many video games because their mother was a lousy example with all her blogging and social media shenanigans? At least, I know they won't be eating Twinkies.

I look at that chubby little boy in the picture and I miss him a little bit. I also miss the mother I was then - a little less tired, a little more present, a little less worried.

But then, I look at the boy I have now and think he's pretty great too. He is insightful and smart and gets sarcasm and makes me laugh every day. He also takes a shower by himself which is a gift too.

When I spend enough time with my kids, as I did this past week, I realize that I don't need to know the end of the story before it happens. I just need to enjoy it and remember that I'm not telling it alone.