Renee TarantowskiDec 30, 2017

The Hardest Job

Making the baby was easy.

Growing the baby was easy.

Giving birth . . . that was tricky for a few of the kids.

The early years of cloth diapers, homemade baby food, educational toys, endless time outside was easy, tiring, but easy.

Tweens, teenagers, young adults--that's frigging hard.  Every day is a mix of loving too much, not enough, setting boundaries, crossing boundaries.  

I am a gentle, loving, kind, respectful, compassionate and curious mother.  Some days are harder than others and some days I'm a Rock Star and others not so much.  

Parenting is cumulative.

Parenting is unconditional love.

Parenting is the hardest thing I have ever done and the most rewarding.

I was born to be a mom.

Renee TarantowskiDec 29, 2017

2018 Planning

What's my plan for 2018?

Lots and lots of writing.  A few handmade prayer chords. Quiet time to honor each day.  

A year of to enter each moment with mindfulness.  This is my practice.


Renee TarantowskiDec 28, 2017

36 Hours

1000 miles.

In 36 hours.

Hours and hours of transformers DVD's playing.

The best coffee and the worst coffee.

Success on all fronts. 

Good to get away, good to be back.

Renee TarantowskiDec 27, 2017

Visiting Home

Parts of Ann Arbor feel like home and some parts don't.

Kind of bittersweet.

When I moved away, the first time, I was single and had the world by the tail. I left a deal on the table to own a grocery store/deli.

When I moved back, I was married with an 8-week old baby--living outside of the "loop".

I didn't realize that I was a different person when I came back.  No longer single, no longer free to be.  

When I moved away, the second time, I had 4 kids . . . the city that I loved as a single woman looked very different during this season of my life.

Home is the place where you belong; single or married, sans kids/or many, fancy job/homemaker.  What matters is how you feel when you are there.

Renee TarantowskiDec 26, 2017

December 26, 2017

I woke up this morning at 3:26 in a panic.

Did I write yesterday?  Did I vlog?  Did I post photos on Instagram?

Christmas day was a complete blur.  An incredible breakfast of freshly baked pastries, my favorite coffee from Michigan, presents, lots of worrying to make sure everyone was happy, an elaborate snack tray of fruits, cheese, and meats--with interesting mustards.  More presents . . . a fabulous dinner.  Poundcake for dessert.

A fire in the fireplace.

The day could not have been fuller or more perfect.  I fell into bed, dozing off as the kids were telling me what a great day it was.  Picture perfect.

Then 3:26 came.

The cat staring at me like I completely messed up and the dog rolling over groaning "it can't be time to get up."

My hands checked the website and my mind began to run through the day.  I felt pulled in opposite directions. 

Hands/Head 

Sleep/Awake

Remembering/Forgetting

Goals/Failure

You see, I had this idea of writing on this blog every day.  Sharing a bit of wisdom that shows up naturally.

You know what?

It is not wise to set a daily goal, habit, practice without grace built in. 

What is wise is to set an intention.  That looks very much like a goal, habit, practice.  My intention is to share in a natural way the wisdom of living a mindful, loving joy-filled life.  That is not getting up at 3:26 in a panic.

Options

I could have written a post and possibly backdated it.  Not my style.

I could have written a post and said I just went to bed . . . again, squeezing the truth.  Not my style.

Or, I could just sit and attempt to find the lesson.  The wisdom in the moment.  The universal truth.  

The Lesson

I'm still working out the lesson and I just don't have the words to make coherent thoughts into sentences.  The theme is doing what I am called to do, doing it my way and understanding my place up to this point in time. I hope that by thinking it over for another day or two it will make sense enough to share it.  The other option is to call in one of my interpreters--someone who speaks Renee.

Let's keep walking each other home.




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