Five things I love about being a mother:

1. There is nothing - truly nothing - like being hugged by Ari. The way she says "Mama" melts my heart, and I feel an immense sense of peace when I hold her in my arms as she snuggles into me.
2. I love feeling connected to all the other mothers in my life... our shared experience unites us in a tribe of sorts - and it seems to bind us through common events, emotions, hopes, and concerns.
3. Being a mother has helped me have more understanding of and empathy for my mother... for which I am very grateful. I think it's an incredible gift and quite an opportunity for learning and growth.
4. You know how moms just know things? They have eyes in the back of their heads or are psychic or just seems to have this uncanncy, ridiculously honed sixth sense that allows them to be superbrains when it comes to either predicting or accurately reading the behavior of their children. You know what I mean? Well... I have that when it comes to Ari. I know when she's going to spill, I know what she wants to eat before she asks for it... I can tell when she's in the next room doing something naughty. It's freaky at times, but also very, very cool. Kind of like having a super power.
5. My daughter is simply amazing. I respect her tremendously, even though she's only two at this point, and I can't wait to see the many changes to come as she transforms throughout her life. She is a beautiful, fiery, intense, courageous, charismatic, smart and funny ball of energy who requires me to change and evolve to keep up. She challenges me and inspires me to improve myself daily.

Husband and Wife

My little sister, Lydia, got married today. It was a beautiful, small wedding at her mother's house... a garden wedding in the back yard with perfect weather and lots of family.

Given the informality of aspects of the wedding, no one said a toast for the bride and groom. I almost offered to do one, but felt a little uncomfortable and a bit shy.

If I had done one, I would have talked about how amazing it was to see Lydia on her wedding day - a radiant bride soon to be a new mother - and to think back on the small little girl I potty trained with Hershey's kisses. She's become a stunning, grounded, insightful, intelligent, and passionate young woman who has found a gentle, loving, kind, funny, dedicated, and generous young man with whom to share her life.

I am so happy for both of them and so grateful to have been able to experience their union on this day.

The paradoxical nature of parenting and toddlerhood

My daughter is amazing: beautiful, smart, insightful, playful, funny, passionate, independent... I could go on forever. She is also what one might call a "spirited" child. She's willful and constantly on the go. Her energy level is astounding... which can be incredibly challenging at times as a parent.

She is our first, and one of the most difficult things I have struggled with during these first two years has been my sense of my own failings as a parent. I am not a natural mother... at least, I don't feel I fit the stereotype of glorious nurturing provider who is playful and fun and always has ideas for how to stay busy even when trapped indoors during two straight days of icy weather and dangerous temperatures. I need peace and solitude to recharge, and so I find myself often feeling overwhelmed by how much attention and focus she requires.

And this makes me feel incredibly guilty. And sometimes discouraged. And often disappointed in myself.

And I think of my other friends who have kids: Noelle, who also has a spirited daughter and manages to continue working as a writer/performer and to provide a sense of humor and flexibility while being loving and patient; my friend Diana, who is raising two children and makes time to create memory books and plan these amazing family events; Dana who is raising twins and chose to stick with nursing despite intense physical pain because she wanted to do what was best for her kids. Each of these amazing women gets down on herself, feels guilty at times, and has shared a sense of insecurity about her abilities and her worth - her identity as a mother.

I think sometimes we are able to be kinder to others than we are to ourselves. We can see strength, passion, and commitment more clearly and are more apt to commend the effort made instead of focusing on errors. We see their hearts, and we honor their endeavor.

Why is it so much easier to throw stones at ourselves?