Intentional Living

People speak of International Living, but few speak of intentional living. That is to live each moment full of intention. In more pragmatic terms, it means to act without a ticker tape of "must dos, should haves, or if I only..." playing over the moment. It seems insane but most of us are rarely present in anything we are doing.

Having your body occupy a chair at dinner doesn't mean that you are showing up. Showing up takes courage, discipline and above all lack of regard for others opinions. After all that is none of our business.

Intentional Living is at it's core designed to bring pleasure, passion and joy and who doesn't want that?

Beyond logic getting to your creative side

Imagine a business meeting that went something like this: "I'd like to make shoes using the waffle iron." Response "Kid that's not how shoes are made."

If Phil Knight stopped there an entire chunk of modern culture would be missing. Nike transcends sports and embodies purposeful living. The brand itself is evidence that limits can and will be broken.

Beyond the logical use of anything is innovation. Residing in the middle is conviction, courage and confidence.

These are the three C's to success. It's up to your to draw your map.

Go back to the beginning and you will find your answer.

Everything we long for in life is pointed in one direction: get me back to perfect. The perfect in our old brain is the memory of the womb. In short we long for life to be: warm, where our needs are meet (all of them), soothed by the noises around us and peaceful. Yes in our adult lives a few other adjectives creep into our deepest desires among them creativity, passionate and connect are high on a lot of folks lists.

So why go back to the beginning? It is within the core of our begin our two year old self that can express what we want. Not convinced next time your grocery shopping pay attention even if only for a few minutes a 2 year old. Chance are you will hear things like: "I want that!" "I see Dora over there." "I see a triangle!" "What is that? Why don't we get it?" "NO." "I don't want to sit down, buckle up, be here, etc."

Reconnecting with this seemingly uncontrollable voice is our best navigator. All of us know what we need, but like layers of an onion our core is deep inside painful stingy layers.

Not so perfect is pretty good.

During the week leading up to my wedding the word I over used with nauseating enthusiasm was "perfect." I'd said it so many dam times that my sisters, all three, began to tease me. Hadn't I wanted all this fuss, stress & attention?

If I remember correctly I'd actually asked for it. I wanted to be married for surely in marriage I would be on the map. Before I even knew who Dora was I had the same hunch that if I was lost I would only need to find the map and get on the path. Knowing what my life purpose was could wait as long as I was married.

So how's that working out for me? Boys & girls marriage is a bit tougher than holding a registry gun to plate tricking yourself into believing you'd be thrilled to have it. Being married does not mean that your transfer ownership of your deed to happiness. No that is yours for life.

The secret is that it is our thoughts that trip us up not our situation.

So my advice: ditch your expectations - everywhere you find them. No your partner should not know your thoughts, because the truth is they don't & really they can't know them. Chances are you don't always know what you want - tell me where I'm wrong. And your kids well they want your attention. No matter how old we get we still want our parents attention even for a few minutes or a cup of coffee. And life is full of bills, social commitments but you choose what they mean to you and how they effect you.

Perfect is the power of thought. If you are unhappy, stuck or grumpy find the thought.

How do you want to feel?

What would you need to think in order to create this feeling?

Radical I know, but you might just find yourself a bit closer to a messy situation called life with an added zest of joy!

When nothing works do nothing.

This week has been by far one of the more challenging in my parenthood.

After four days of on again off again fevers and a terrible scare Wednesday night of high fever and vomiting the diagnosis is: double ear infection. It seems that my motherhood is never perfect.

To top it off our daughter is inconsolable when awake: rub my hair, no stop that. My tummy hurts, don't rub it. Snuggle me, give me space. Thankfully I've been left confident that we know our opposites.

So here is my sane piece of gratitude: patience is a virtue. Thank you to all those in my life who have shown and continue to show me patience.

The shit chronicles continue...

Day four of our new home the sewer backs up. I will kindly spare you the juicy details. I will, however, dive into the obvious.

I believe that life is full of messages or signs. The key is to listen. Apparently I did not head the previous lesson. So like a good zen student I cleaned the bathroom three times yesterday before & after it was snaked, wax-on/wax-off style open to receiving the message. It was clear get rid of the shit in your life.

Appropriate since we've only just unpacked in our 10th living space. Our original count was off. Pat & I have had ten living rooms, bedrooms, etc in our years together. Some spaces have been more challenging than others, but the physical space we occupy is nothing compared with the inner dialogues we live with and cart around.

Assuring that our inner living room is as clutter free and yes, shitless is imperative.

So my challenge in this revolutionary shit removal is this:
Find one item daily that no longer serves me or my family and give it a better home.

Why is there so much shit in my life?

Usually when I launch into this rant it is about the physical objects that clutter my home: laundry, toys, books, shoes, more toys, etc. This time I am talking about literal shit, not mine, our dog Stella.

For those of you that don't know Stella she is a five year old black lab with a newly formed gray patch. She's faithful: moved with us 8 times and only occasionally figures out how to get out and explore the town, gentle, never barks and always lets the girls sit on her. To adults, however, she is a rambunctious puppy. Apparently the girl needs a bit more attention.

Well this morning she got it. I laid a towel in our damp stroller while the coffee machine heated up. While I was pulling my shot of espresso Sofia asked "Mama is that poop." "No, it's just mud." A second later the stinking reality became apparent, it was in fact poop and not just a tiny bit all over my shoe.

After 30 minute clean up (kitchen floor, shoes, deck & the entire yard) I'd some how calmed myself enough to find the humor in the situation. I assumed that because Stella only shits in the front yard I was safe to step where ever I like in the back. Boy was I wrong.

See the thing about shit is it can be found everywhere, especially when you think you are far from it. Thanks for the lesson Stella.

Additionally, I learned that while everyone else in the family has a creative artistic outlet Stella has now found hers. Please note that these specs of colors are the latest Crayola installation in our backyard. Proof that shit can be in color.

PEACE

Our letter for today is P. We've been drawing letters each morning after breakfast and then practicing tracing the letters or doodling. I wasn't sure how the learning/retention was going until last night. In the middle of the World Series opening game, Sofia sat down unpacked her purse full of precious adult items: an old film camera, used non-working cell phone, pretend princess lipstick, actual berry chapstick & a learning pen marker. She ripped out a postcard from the Oprah magazine book and amid the screaming "Go Giants" drew a perfect Q. I nearly cried, I was so proud.

This moment is one of the ones I treasure. I priceless token that I am exactly where I am suppose to be.

Thank you Sofia!

49ers Season

For 2 years I have dreaded 49er Season. My Father-in-law got my husband season tickets as a father/son bonding with their good friends. Our first season I was left home with two kids under the age of 2. I was nursing, working 4 days a week with a 3 hour commute and absolutely hated the fact that this was a reoccurring gift which felt like Sunday's in hell. That sounds strong I realize and yes I was thankful for the 1-on-1 bonding but really I just longed for equality in our family.

Last year the season came and went without much notice and I was actually able to attend a game. I saw first hand the culinary ritual of gourmet tailgates, father/son bonding and I fell in love with the whole experience. I longed for our girls to have a similar ritual with their Papa starting at age four.

This year as Pat attended his first 49ers game I was filled with excitement. I took the girls on a Mama date, we returned home from our dinner to a clean house and unpacked my bags of starch newly cut fabric ready for creation. Within a few breaths all of the fabric was out strewn about the couch, our Labrador and draped off each of the girls shoulders with shrills of "Oh", "Ahh" & "Look at this one!"

I stopped myself from putting restriction on the newly purchased fabric that was soon dragged upon the floor, "It will get dog hair on it..." I trailed off quickly noticing that I was not Debby Downer but the Creativity Police. Art is art until you limit it with rules then you might as well play by color.

To my fabric loving girls thank you for helping me to see the loveliness of messy creation. I love you!

cousin time

My worth...

is not determined by empty sinks or laundry hampers. It is in fact determined by me. We all have the fabulous power to choose our worth each and every day, just like we can choose our attitude. If marriage is a creation rebuilt each new day, then so too is our own self image.

Today I wrapped myself around old poky thoughts, not all day but long enough to take notice. I'm leaving a half finished quilt, strings of thread all over the house and taking our dinner down to the ocean.

If this year is about finding my best self I need to remember that. It's not about having a comment worthy album on facebook it's about falling in love with me, the lady formerly known as mariah shea.

Using the tools

Another Martha Beck class and I feel like I've finally showed up in the right place.

Not sure who I will coach but right now coaching myself is a wonderful journey.

Back to Back events

Our first weekend of back to back events, and my first debut of a solo Wood Fire Woodie event as chef went off lovely. All my nightmares were for not. I worked the oven pretty well. Not perfectly but well. Looks like a have a good teacher!

In addition to our busy weekend of events my sister, brother-in-law & nephew arrived for a quick and most wonderful visit. We shuttled kids to maximize our 48 cousin camp, but the kids had a blast.

It's Sunday and I'm officially tuckered out. Time for a little ice cream, wood fired peaches and a movie.

Good night!

Numerology

6 years of marriage. 2 homes bought & sold. 8 change of addresses. 1 Labrador. 2 children. 2 home spun businesses and a million ideas for other ones. 7 job transitions for me, 6 for my husband. No this is not a Dr. Suess book, this is my life in a snap shot.

And tonight I found the place I was looking for in a simple text: "Thanks for being a rockstar."

For me it is not things that bring joy, sure I love a new pair of sexy heels that is until my feet start to hurt. For me, it has been about finding a place in my marriage where I am visible, appreciated and loved. It seems it is always the small things that make us so darn happy.

Thank you to my creative, patient and sometimes turtle pace husband for making me feel at home in your life.

"I need to get out!"

Kirra screamed yesterday from her pink car seat on our way into town. I totally get that feeling and when I experience it is as urgent as Kirra's display "I neeeed to get out Mama, I do now."

So we stopped on the edge of Scotts Valley to get out. Kirra said she had to poop, but after our bold trip to the gas station bathroom where I believe we washed our hands 4 times on the way out, no movement, but you know what she was the happiest little two year old swing her legs on the potty singing our song "Out of the body into the potty. That feels good, that feels good." Of course her words are a bit muddled and sometimes body & potty get reversed. What ever, she enjoys the act of sitting on the potty.

Back to the car where our mess of cheese crumbs I'd scrapped out when we stopped seemed to boil on the asphalt. Parents & caregivers please note, even if you have sliced cheese left over from lunch it is not advisable to feed this to small children. It crumbs and since it is already warm it's soft. I do believe it was the cheese bits that had fallen under Kirra's legs that were the reason for the assertive "I need to get out."

Parenthood is nothing if you are learning everyday, somewhat humbled on a regular basis and forced to work through some of the issues of self confidence that you thought you'd long out grown.

It's quite in my house and I've hugged and kissed the girls a million times this morning. I am heading out in a few minutes for my first solo Wood Fire Woodie gig. I am filled with excitement fear and mostly anxious to get in front of the oven.

W.H.O. Bread

I left the house in search of honey and came back with none. But I was so much sweeter to be around! You see we used the last drops of our honey making our W.H.O. Bread - short for World Health Organization. I told the girls it's called W.H.O. bread because as soon as you taste it you want to shoot "Who made this bread? It is delicious." When I Ask this Sofia says "You and me Mama!"

Yesterday we had a lovely dinner al fresco enjoying homemade pasta topped with fresh tomatoes, squash, garlic & onions from Everett Family Farm, homemade W.H.O. Bread and a fresh green salad. As Sofia, Pat & I moved into the kitchen to bus our plates we heard a thud on the deck. Pat looked out to see Stella running into the front yard with the remainder of our still warm half loaf of W.H.O Bread. The Black Knight had struck again bouncing with the agility of a young pup reminding us of our days in Portland. Luckily Pat and I were able to corner the old girl and save the remaining untouched ends.

Sometimes life can be like this loaf of bread. You can take all the time in the world creating your lovely handmade project and when you turn you attention someone or your canine swoops in with a new agenda.

Transition

It's even the name of a bike company, but by definition it is:

tran·si·tion
   /trænˈzɪʃən, -ˈsɪʃ-/ Show Spelled[tran-zish-uhn, -sish-] –noun
1. movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change: the transition from adolescence to adulthood.
2. Music a passing from one key to another; modulation, b. brief modulation; a modulation used in passing, c. a sudden, unprepared modulation.
3. a passage from one scene to another by sound effects, music, etc., as in a television program, theatrical production, or the like.

My current transition is that a musical company taking a small pause from the stage and rearranging sections, notes and costumes to create a more harmonic & fun performance.

Day by day, but last night we took a huge step and organized all of our paperwork which is bountiful with two small business, a family and lots of medical papers.

And as I turn around there is an arm chair full of laundry needing to be folded and tucked away, "Later," I say to the pile at bay, "later I will deal with you."

But more pressing things are being calling to my attention. Kirra is rearranging her booster chair "My boooster chair." she says hitting every syllable. She's removed the small cloth from under her chair & is now cleaning the table. Sofia is snuggled on our bed watching Calliou. And our fireplace is covered in my sewing machine with an iron full of fabric and half cut pj pants waiting to be sewn.

I love everything about fabric.

Mama Meatballs

2.5 lbs organic ground meat
6 large cloves of minced garlic
2 tbsp of local honey
.5 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground sea salt
3 tbsp prunes minced
2 tsp fresh thyme
1 tsp dried oregano
5 tbsp Panko bread crumbs
1 cracked organic egg

Place all ingredients into a large metal bowl. Remove rings and place clean hands into bowl to mix. Once all ingredients and evenly mixed begin shaping your meatballs.

Place 2" round balls onto backing pan.

Cook for 30 minutes at 350'.

Serve with roasted potatoes sliced french fry style. Par boil potatoes for 10 minutes or until soft. Drain mix par baked potatoes in Panko bread crumbs, fresh thyme & salt. Bake for 20' at 350.

Plate meatball on top of baked potato slices and dress with fresh tomato, basil & garlic "salsa".

Enjoy!!

The honest truth

Staying at home is SO much more work than all the drama & preparation to go to work. There are days when I feel like a domestic housewife, a has been professional now relegated to toilet, poop and laundry duty. I need a system because too often I get lazy and I wake up doing yesterday's work.

Like the laundry pile for example that hogged our couch all of yesterday. My husband folded it all last night. But because I didn't put it away and he wasn't going to our Labrador slept on most of it and the other portion has slowly been pushed to the floor by our daughters. Who can blame them when you are 2 & 4 you don't care if your clothes are folded or not.

So Martha what's the painful emotional thought behind all of my domestic suffering? Okay let me see if I can get to it "I can only be a respectable mother if my house is clean, tidy and organized."

Is it true?

Hell no.

3 reasons:
1. Yesterday I made bread & pasta with Sofia while we rotated laundry and created the most magnificent dinner for our beach picnic.
2. Today we managed to leave the house & make the most fun out of our adventure on the go: fabric store, coffee launch picnic & shopping for pullups in the car cart.
3. I can sew and make magical creations like adhoc pj's on our dining room table with the house a mess.

How does it make me feel when I think this thought? Angry, not good enough, like I should be happy I have a husband and not ask him to help organize. I feel small threatened and out of control.

Who would I be without this thought? Relaxed, I would laugh in the face of laundry and move through it not getting stuck in it's volume.

If I woke up tomorrow without the thought "I can only be a respectable mother if my house is clean, tidy and organized." who would I be?

I would greet the day with joy, excitement and focus on my creative pursuits.

Turnaround:
I can be a respectable mother if my house is not clean, tidy and organized.

Ahh that feels good, true and workable.

Pirate Park, a new friend & Cow boots

Not a bad start to our week. By bike we ventured to our newly discovered park appropriately named Pirate Park. I think the real name is Twin Lakes Park, but there is no lake in sight only a 20" long Pirate play structure. The girls played for an hour swinging, driving the boat and enjoying the entire park to themselves thanks to the morning sprinkle.

Before noon we packed up to go home where we collected Stella, detached my bike and began our walk to the vet. Of course we took a momentary detour to stop at Verve for Bubaccino's, Banana Bread & a Cappuccino. An hour later we'd made it to the vet to drop Stella off.

After picking up some new jam we ventured in the direction of home determined to find the East Cliff park I'd seen on a map last night. Luckily it was only a few block up from East Cliff on 38th. We call this park Surf Park. We shared the park with a group of surfers and their instructors. Sofia befriended a little boy and after a bit of warming up got right into her first game of tag.

Home again home again to find our package from Nonna complete with two sets of pink cow boots. Ready for the farm!

Dear Mr. Skunk

A skunk just sprayed near our daughters room and Sofia came running out of bed to inform me of the injustice. "I don't know why that skunk is living near our room. He should find a new house."

Tomorrow morning we are going to write Mr. Skunk a letter explaining just this. Sofia has promised to include a note.

Also we will be writing a note to Lulu. "Lulu who I asked?" "The coffee shop Mama," Sofia replied with heavy eyes as we gathered in the bathroom waiting for tiny Kirra perched upon her Elmo seat to announce she was done "going potty." I looked puzzled so Sofia, who does not forget anything even though she is not yet four, continue "They shouldn't take so long getting your coffee so we should write them a note."

Okay two note pads are set up ready to go:
Dear Mr. Skunk & Dear Lulu's Coffee Shop

These are the nights when a 9 pm bedtime is not frustrating but unbearably sweet.

Back Trackin'

I just blew 30 minutes looking for my book. The upside is that during these 30 minutes I tied places in our house that otherwise would have been left in disarray. Naturally I found my novel I'd been lusting after all morning neatly tucked between two huge piles of paperwork that needs to be filed.

Lesson: No matter what your address, situation or who you live with - you are your thoughts. Clean them up and you will shine. Leave your thoughts to wander and you will quickly arrive in a dark dusty attic.

For now I am retiring to the couch for a five minute window of indulgent reading.

Ciao.

Getting a head start

Today was the first morning in years that I have been up before my children. I assumed, like many others, that parenthood would bring a natural bliss, sense of purpose and love. I know now that all of these things do accompany parenthood but not without intention and cultivation.

As Saturday approaches I am in awe that 6 years have gone by since Pat and I said I do. We didn't even know what marriage was really about let alone parenthood. We have made a lot of mistakes over the many days we've been married but somewhere along the way we managed to welcome two of the most special, loving and creative people into the world our little girls. Who at present are really not so little. At nearly 4 and now 2 our daughters hold their own.

It is a joy to spend my days with the girls, not without challenge but truly a blessing.

20 minute Muffins

This is my favorite muffin recipe. Each time I take them out of the oven I am shocked that the lumpy dough I plopped into the tray is now this gorgeous muffin. We've made this recipe with mixed berries, blueberries, apricots topped with strawberries, just raisins and banana & strawberries. Each time the muffins taste better than the last.

Enjoy!

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup white sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 egg

1/3 cup milk
1 cup fresh blueberries
1/2 cup white sugar
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup butter, cubed
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Grease muffin cups or line with muffin liners.
2. Combine 1 1/2 cups flour, 3/4 cup sugar, salt and baking powder. Place vegetable oil into a 1 cup measuring cup; add the egg and enough milk to fill the cup. Mix this with flour mixture. Fold in blueberries. Fill muffin cups right to the top, and sprinkle with crumb topping mixture.
3. To Make Crumb Topping: Mix together 1/2 cup sugar, 1/3 cup flour, 1/4 cup butter, and 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon. Mix with fork, and sprinkle over muffins before baking.
4. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes in the preheated oven, or until done.

Everything smells like skunk

I do mean everything in my house smells like skunk, except for the horrible burnt aroma of lavender which my husband waved around in the hopes that lavender + fire would remove the skunk-o-licous smell. No such luck folks.

It's 10:30 pm and finally my 2 kids, husband & stinky Labrador are asleep. Clearly our dog was the skunk surprise. I am trying everything possible to keep myself awake so that I can cook off the Cibatta that I made.

I made my Biga, pronounced Bee-ghA not Bigha like I was saying until my husband laughed and corrected me. God-dammit I thought in my head I took Italian for Christ's Sake. I am Catholic so I did say a Hail Mary after that one.

Anyhow it's take me 2 days and an hour longer than it should have but my Biga Cibatta bread is in the oven!

Best moment of today: sitting on the beach with the girls painting their nails, for Kirra this was her first time. We alternated purple & pink and made sure to keep our nails from sticking to anything, which is quite an accomplishment when you are 2 and almost 4.

Week 3 & 4

So much of my identity has been tied to work. Mostly my success or personal satisfaction was directly linked to the number of emails in my inbox. Everything else finished had been filed. My happiest days are when my inbox is below 25. When you stay home there is no such neatness or order to your day.

Laundry overflows the corners of every room. Dishes pile up without invitation. And nap time is as exhausting as leading a Parlipro meeting. My greatest challenge is finding a rhythm for the day and being content with not "achieving" anything great or visual other than the memory of a fantastic day.

Part of the trouble is we do in fact have too many things: books, clothes, toys, shoes, etc. And yes our physically living space is tiny.

All physical obstacles aside I am the one force that can create the life I wish to live and the motherhood I wish to give. So for this next week I am going to focus on doing everything with love, rather than obligation. How lucky am I that I "get" to be home which also means that I have the luxury of shuttling laundry during the day rather than on nights & weekends.

Fun highlights from the past two weeks:
- Our first dinner party with friends, Robyn & Sean come for pizza & wine tasting!
- Master the art of muffin making. A tea party with our "friends" and story time complete with If you give a Moose a Muffin.
- A return to sewing. Completion of my first skirt! I learn home to follow a patter, sew ruffles & finish with elastic. I love it so much, I made 3: Sofia, Kirra & I all have rufflious skirts. Also competed is a story telling skylight cover.
- Kirra's 2nd birthday party. 30 + friends & family came to celebrate the Independence of Kirra and enjoy homemade lamb & meat burgers, brioche buns, mango chipotle spread, potato & broccoli salads + made at home cupcakes.

Week 2: Chez Paniesse Bread & Chocolate Chip Cookies

I would share a photo, but neither of these fabulous productions lasted very long.

Week 1

We didn't make pasta.

In fact we decided that there was prerequisite for Mama Pasta School: master the art of taking naps. Keep in mind my girls are almost 2 and 4. Also, I've never been home full time other than maternity leave which to me does not count. So the nap box was born.



After each successful nap my eldest daughter would wake up and get to put an new card in the box.

Okay I feel like a horrible mother, because as I wrote this post it is in fact half way through week 2 and we have not made pasta. We had a slight delay - a mini-requisite course: "Master the Art of CO-OPER - WHAT?" I ask to a resounding "Co-operation!" The power of positive reinforcement.

Alas the time has come and after today's nap we are taking the bus downtown to get a pasta maker.

Welcome ladies to Mama Pasta School!

What exactly is Mama Pasta School?

On June 1st we received keys to our beach house. My husband arrived first and did the walk through with our landlord. An hour later I arrived with our two girls, ages 23 months & 3.5 years old. I'd only just been back east picking the girls up from my parents where they'd spent three weeks at Nonna & Gpa's first summer camp.

We arrived and our oldest asked "Where are we?" My husband and I led the girls to the gate said "Come on in and pick out your room this is our new house!" I share this story for two reasons the first being our kids might need a print out to later share with their therapist and secondly because it's take us nearly 6 years of marriage, 2 homes, 5 jobs, 4 cars, 1 business and lot of "discussion" to finally start rowing the boat of our life in a direction amiable to our creative family. For so long I lived as though it was someone else job to manage the navigation.

So back to our move, with most of the critical items unpacked we began to assemble our space. When we step up our butcher block I told our oldest that some day I would teach her how to make pasta on it. Over a week later my husband and I sat our girls down on a Thursday morning after breakfast to explain that I would only be going to work for two more days. "You're not going to work anymore?" our oldest inquired. "No, after these two days I am going to stay home for a long time." After a long processing session our 3 and a half year old said "And we're going to Mama Pasta School?" It took me a while to make the connection and with a laugh and a smile the size of Alaska I said, "Yes, you are going to Mama Pasta School!"