03 February 2015

I am on retreat - in Anchorage of all places! I’m thankful for this time to put the brakes on and slow down, and yet, it feels quite uncomfortable to do this for any length of time. My life as of late has become overwhelmingly strategic and calculated. With precision, I measure out each day as if it were a recipe, so that I may arrive at the end of the day with a sense of accomplishment. My ducks are all in one line, and while this is briefly rewarding, the bigger and deeper part of me whispers, “You’re missing out, Elise!”

I am lucky to have my spunky little one, Citori Marie, to help me become a bit more imaginative, silly, curious and spontaneous. My faithful sidekick will say, “Hurry up, Momma! Let’s get on the airplane and find an adventure!” For weeks on end, Citori has been packing up her ladybug suitcase to embark on worldwide travels, joining her aunties in Costa Rica, venturing back to South Korea or Japan. As the game has gone, she packs and I unpack, but a few days ago I finally threw my hands up in the air and left her bags untouched.

We received a great gift recently - Q&A a Day for Kids, with space to record responses. It has become one of my favorite conversation starters with Citori. Sometimes she’ll ask, “What does it mean?”, and other times she’ll give an answer that blows me away. The other day I posed the question, “What do you want to be?” Without hesitation she said, “I want to be Momma.” I spoke out loud as I wrote, “I want to be a Momma.”, and Jeff corrected me from the background, “No, she said she wanted to be you, Momma.” All at once I welled up, moved by my daughter’s insights. What a simple statement, and at the same time, how profound.

“Maybe she has forgiven me, after all ”, I thought. Just a few hours earlier I’d raised my voice when the toilet clogged and overflowed. Citori has been trying to become more independent, and this journey has been full of trial and error. And then, the day before Citori went to throw something away and saw that I’d ditched a painting she’d made. I can still see the sadness on her face as she stammered, “Momma, why did you throw this away?!” I felt wretched - I’d failed her again.

And yet, Citori never gives up on me! She showers me with love in so many ways. “Ugga Mugga”, she’ll say, as we rub noses. And, “Here Mom, I made you a present!” This usually involves a ziplock bag with odd and ends stashed inside - Q tips, toothpicks, Dora bandaids, chunks of chaga tea and a treat of some kind. Citori is almost always at my heels chattering away, mimicking my movements or trying to get me to stray from the task at hand. A day at a time, I’m learning lessons of balance - when to say, “Just a minute, love bug” or “I’ll do this later - let’s go on that adventure!”