I haven't yelled a single time this week...

This morning I found out my mother-in-law was giving a talk at her church before she kicks off her walk-for-peace across the country on Tuesday. I found out as I was about to walk out the door to go surfing. My board was already on the wagon.

I gave my sister-in-law a ride to the church and as she got out, she said something to the effect of 'If you change your mind, you should come to the talk. It'd make her real happy."

"It'd make her real happy."

Ouch. Potential Kryptonite to me, who has spent years prioritizing everyone else's "real happy" at the cost of  my own.

It wasn't an easy call. Doris is going to be walking for seven months. I won't have many chances to see her between now and September. I hadn't gone surfing in two weeks and was thrilled I'd finally made the opportunity to go this morning. Doris would have been "real happy" and maybe people would have said nice things about me for having made the sacrifice.

I had been tired and cranky at breakfast. The day was cold. It had taken a seemingly colossal amount of energy to get me almost out the door when I got the call. It would have been an easy out.

But I couldn't.

Even though the water was stormy and the waves crappy, the ocean was calling me and I heeded the call. Even though I didn't catch a thing, I played and played and played. And I'm really glad I did.

The Stranglehold, Part 2

While my dilemma is not an uncommon one for mothers, the only people who offered advice were men, single women, or grandmas whose kids are long out of the house: suggesting to me that while solutions were right under my nose, something about being a mother was preventing me (and other women) from being able to see them, act on them, or accept what they are.

What is this something that prevents me and so many mothers from believing that they can pursue joy free from the strangleholds of domestic life?

I believe it is an impossible, internally imposed, standard of motherly conduct that precludes the common sense actions we need to take care of our own well-being. (A standard which men don’t share, and of which single women may not yet be aware.) To make an analogy, we  impose on ourselves the maternal equivalent of a 38D bust, a 24 inch waist and the body mass index of a supermodel.  In other words, we've got the maternal equivalent of eating disorder.

Having sat with this for a few days, on Sunday afternoon I grabbed a page from the green kitchen pad and wrote was for me a new manifesto of healthy mothering:  

• I will never yell again.
• Nothing is "that" important.
• I am no longer responsible for everyone’s feelings - or their futures.
• I will only say things once.
• The children clean up with their parents.
• Hungry children must ask nicely for food or go to their rooms until they can.

While I didn’t follow the advice of my readers to the letter, what I got in spirit was the belief that something new was possible. And what I got in reality was something yet to be tried and a whole new frontier for this mother/athlete/surfer.

The Stranglehold, Part 1

Last week my post garnered more than a few comments from readers – the majority offering support and some kind of advice on how to escape the stranglehold of house and mommy work so that I can surf and write more.

While my initial reaction was to be touched by the recommendations, my next was to dismiss them. As I wrote on a Facebook status update: what has seemed to help me most in the past is being listened to and supported  – not advice.

But after that knee-jerk…jerkiness...I recalled those many times I could have avoided a world of pain if only I’d listened to the people around me. Something which my stubborn reluctance to accept advice, of course, had prevented.

So this was actually the opportunity to do something different.

And then I saw something else; even if I didn’t take my readers advice literally, its existence signified that I was, in fact, being listened to and supported and that I had what I needed to solve what seemed to be an intractable problem.

So thank you readers, for all your helpful words and suggestions. Thanks to you, I believe I am seeing a light at the end of a tunnel.

Hitting the Wall

It was a rainy day and Trinity and I watched 180 Degrees South. A really good documentary that just brought home how stuck I've been feeling the last week.

Here's how it goes  - Life is going along and I get an idea. It's a good idea and it excites me.

Life gets really good.

Having such a good life gives me more ideas, excites and inspires me, and I start doing more stuff.

But maybe I don't have enough room in my life for more good stuff, just enough room for a little good stuff and the rest of the room is for the kind of draggy everyday stuff I was trying to escape in the first place.

But I'm really inspired now and I just want to do this great stuff I've started - in this case, the surfing and the book featuring other moms doing sports. But there's still all the old stuff to do: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dishes, laundry, potty training, homeschooling, trips to the park, and the stuff I really hate - trying to get my kids to do things they don't want to do.

So here's the $64,000 question: how to do the stuff that excites and energizes me while still having all that stuff taken care of, but not having to do it myself?

THIS IS THE QUESTION! Isn't it?

Fit to Surf

I've been on a crazy Amazon book ordering binge and this one came this week. I LOVE it.

In addition to surfing, my usual workout is an almost daily 20 minute yoga session from yogadownload.com, but I've been feeling like there've been gaps in my fitness and conditioning.
I just started doing this book's flexibility and strength training program this week, but I already feel some new muscles a-hurting: particularly the glutes and hamstrings, which I've known were weak.

To fully get the benefits of Rocky's program, I'll either need to join a gym or buy some equipment so I think I've got at least a pull-up bar and some free weights in my near future.

Also, my dream for this year is to get back on my bike so that I don't have to get all blue when it's been raining and I have to avoid the water. There's a women's bike club/team in Culver City that just started and I think it's calling my name.

Today's recipe for a perfect life: someone else looks after kids 30% of the time, cycling, surfing and having fun working on my book: interviewing mom-athletes all over the country.

And lots of good sex with my hubby.

Another Mom on Board

Here's to all the moms who make it out of the house to do the things they love - at least once in a while.

This is my friend Madhavi waxing up a friend's board this morning before we went out for our first ever surf session together. Sad to say, the conditions were, well, sad - windy, blown out and shallow due to a particularly low tide.

While the waves didn't offer much in terms of actual surfing, we were able to catch up and chat. And it didn't hurt to have someone watch my technique and remind me, yet again, to get those knees up. Just when I'd thought the problem was weak hamstrings, now I'm thinking weak upper body. Either way, practice, practice, practice...

Coffee. Croissants. Waves.

Lately I'd been having the problem of being too "in my head" while surfing.  For surfing, as for any sport, this is a kiss of death. I had no such problem today. The weather was sunny and warm, I was caffeinated, well-fed and happy.  People were swimming without wetsuits and I was reminded  that, Toto, we're NOT in Chicago anymore.  Or New York. Or  Utah. I was reminded how much I love Southern California.

As  for the waves. There were some of the fastest, strongest, waves I've ever felt. One knocked me so hard off my board I fell headfirst into an underwater somersault. When I emerged into the air I shouted  exuberantly: "THAT WAS AWESOME!"

Today's lesson: even though I was having the "greatest time ever" I kept wanting to check my watch.

Today's theory: when I'm about to have a breakthrough in something and my identity is threatened - the identity that likes to prove how lame I am, how I can't do anything right, and that nothing I do ever pays off - I get obsessed with time. It's the perfect way to get out of the transcendent moment and into my head.

Today's breakthrough: I resisted checking my watch and kept re-committing to having fun, being with the waves and letting the ocean be my teacher.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.