I have a tendency to fall in love with things in a big way. When I like something, I like it a lot. And I then watch it a lot, eat it a lot, listen to it a lot, and say it a lot.

I did it with hummus.

With Ray Charles.

With cinnamon, overnight soaked oats, Lost in Translation, the saying “at the end of the day” and most recently with the film “Man Up”. I first watched it when we visited Minneapolis for Jeff’s job interview. Aggie was asleep in her totally old school hospital style rolling crib in the room and without wanting to wake her, I grabbed all the pillows from the bed and holed up in the teeny tiny bathroom with our iPad and found it on Netflix.

In the beginning scene Nancy, the main character, is asked by her sister in a moment of weakness to list her personal mantras.

Put yourself out there. Take chances. Get stronger thighs. Be more deviant. Learn French. Cook more! Understand the Israeli Palestinian conflict better. Engage with l i f e. 

Currently I’m in a 3 week – 3 day situation. 3 weeks solo parenting. 3 days reunited. It’s impossibly hard. I literally feel for every single parent out there. I honestly do not know how you do it.

(But actually, I think I’m starting to get it)

I broke down in the car on my way home from shopping yesterday. I was trying to find a dress for a wedding I am going to later this summer and normally I would love the opportunity to wander a store and try on fun party dresses. I hated it though. Every part of it – I hated trying things on, I hated how things looked. All I wanted was to be with Agatha. It was like this totally indescribable sense of separation anxiety. I had to leave. So I did. But then I erupted. Full body tears, letting out every single moment of frustration and hunger and tiredness and anxiety and anger and happiness and excitement and fear all at once.

It was like the biggest emotional release.

It happened 3 more times until I finally realized something. (Other than I can do this).

I keep watching and eating and listening and saying things on repeat when I like them because they are kind of like my own version of a mantra. They give me comfort and happiness and a moment of excitement when I need it most. When I like a song I don’t just play it, I blast it. I listen to it so loud so every part of me can enjoy it and dance to it. When I eat something, I devour it, I enjoy the taste and texture and the nutrients it’s giving my body. When I know what to expect it’s just like this gigantic hug every time.

There’s something about repeating something to yourself that just makes sense to me. It helps to pick you up when you need it most, and most importantly it gives you something to look forward to when you really need it.

3 weeks is a long time to fly solo. I falter just like everyone else. I am constantly trying to find ways to bring positivity and strength to not only myself but to Aggie while we’re going through this because she can feel what I’m putting out there. I wrote about why I love mantras here but right now they are feeling a little different. A little more humorous and full of love and life and potential and adventure. It’s just my nature to want to find positivity even on the days that feel rotten. It is very much possible to pick yourself up – it’s not easy but it is possible. And when you do it’s one of the most liberating and empowering feelings out there.

Take charge of the things that scare you, don’t let them take you over. 

Say no more.

Do one thing for yourself after you put Agatha to bed.  

Let go of the guilt. 

Allow yourself to get excited for what’s to come. 

Drink more delicious beer and bake more delicious bread. 

(and maybe get stronger thighs).