I began this post in an attempt to explain the origin and meaning of my name. Luckily, I realized how boring and egotistic that is just two sentences in so I'm switching gears and talking about rain. The rain. The Rain. Today, it is raining in Berkeley. Yesterday it rained too. Big, meaty rain drops pelting our old roof and single-pained windows. The ground looks really, really happy today. I'm not kidding. Like, Funfetti cupcakes happy. I looked out the window, and it looks like somebody spilled glowy-green moss all over our front yard. It's beautiful. I don't think I'll ever get used to that shade of green in the Bay Area. There's this specific shade that looks unworldly because it's so bright? I love that color. I don't understand it and I don't want to, alien green. 

Rain makes me pensive. And melodramatic. It's fun for the whole family. This morning I represented the female population at Crossfit and front squatted 1/300 of the person across from me. It was awesome. Then I got tangled in a mess of doctor's office visit calls and late breakfast and missed meetings while mothering a very cute, but very precocious three-year-old and a very cute, but very, very tired baby. 

I wonder if there is one woman out there who has never felt frustrated with her motherhood, in any way. If there is, I do not want to meet her.*

This is not the motherhood I signed up for. I want tidy drawers and pitter patter sounds. Sweetly sung lullabies and snuggly babies that smell like baby powder and peaches. Cooing and quiet playing. Warm oatmeal cookies and a love of reading. Kisses, and I love You so much you're the best mom in the world thank you for your sacrifices and you're so beautiful. That kind of motherhood. Instead I teach a boy how to pee in the toilet. I clean up mushy bananas and sweep the floor five million times. I pick up toy cars and build train tracks. I drive to Target and hangout in the toy aisle a lot. I go to Costco, a lot. I go to the grocery store the most. I try to teach them stuff. I don't know. As I'm typing this out I'm feeling less and less confident in how we spend our time so....But. But! There's always a 'but' and that's why anyone is crazy enough to willfully embark on this crazy journey that leaves me super melodramatic on a rainy day.

They're more than I ever imagined in every way. They make me feel so much. In one way, that's the fullest life I could imagine. I want to experience and feel all the emotions. On the other hand, good luck and see you in three hours after they're snug in bed. Motherhood brings out my immaturity, fickleness, insecurities, pushes them against the wall and makes them do their first macarena—in front of the whole class. It's so embarrassing. I could do it fine when I was doing it with everybody but now my rhythm wanes, does my smile look weird?, everyone is watching me! It's really embarrassing. I want to tell the teacher I wasn't ready and I want to yell at everyone watching me, and tell them I didn't have enough time to practice and I don't feel good, gosh!

It's one day at a time. It's the little things that remind me I'm a person who also happens to be a mother. All the things I love and do that make me me. My love of mashed potatoes and stuff with faces; writing and work; my relationships with friends and family. My most ambitious dreams and goals. It's turning around and seeing Silas, in his undies with his legs crossed, chillin' on the guest bed, swaying to the jazz opening song of Kipper. (Just now.) I made that. Or, Sondre's first steps. (A few weeks ago.) I made that, too. They're fat and happy! That makes me endlessly proud and grateful. Life is a mess of people and stuff. I feel really lucky that I usually like and always love the people that see and share my stuff. Especially my melodramatic rainy day stuff.

*(Really, I do not want to meet her.)

**Image of us in Noho without our kids in September. Blessed trip, blessed vacation.