{"id":1704,"date":"2013-03-29T13:19:58","date_gmt":"2013-03-29T17:19:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=1704"},"modified":"2013-03-29T13:19:58","modified_gmt":"2013-03-29T17:19:58","slug":"full-house-full-heart","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/full-house-full-heart\/","title":{"rendered":"Full house, full heart"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"steve<\/a>I\u2019ve sometimes wondered if I\u2019ll spend the rest of my life missing my sons as the little boys they used to be.<\/p>\n

Even now, though it\u2019s been years since I reminded anyone to look both ways, the sight of a mom crossing the street hand-in-hand with a little guy with sleep-tufted hair and rolled up jeans fills my eyes with sudden, unbidden tears.<\/p>\n

Arriving at an elementary school to give a talk one morning not long ago, watching parents bending low to kiss their children good-bye, observing the sea of bobbing backpacks, the bright art on the walls, the exuberance of\u00a0 six-year-olds beginning their day, I was so overcome with emotion that I had to slip back out to my car for a few minutes and compose myself. Still, standing up at the podium in that room full of young mothers, I wasn\u2019t quite sure I could trust my voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know<\/em>,\u201d I wanted to say to them, \u201chow quickly this will all be over?\u00a0 Do you realize just how sweet and rich your lives are right now? How fleeting?\u201d<\/p>\n

Of course, this is what older people have been saying to younger ones since time began.\u00a0 And no one wants to hear it.<\/p>\n

Busy, distracted, wondering how to transport the kids from point A to point B and pick up some food for dinner and get the homework done without too much of a fuss, an over-stretched, over-tired parent isn\u2019t worrying about the end of childhood so much as how to survive the hours between 3:00 and bedtime.\u00a0 I know that.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been that mom, too.<\/p>\n

But it\u2019s been a while since we had two boys still living at home full time, and what I\u2019m most aware of now is not how endlessly long those days could be, but how quickly those years flew by. Adjusting to my new empty-nest reality, after over two decades of 24\/7 mothering, has been a slow, bittersweet process.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0At times my nostalgia for our family life as it used to be \u2013 for our own imperfect, cherished, irretrievable past \u2013 is overwhelming.\u00a0 The life \u00a0 \u00a0my husband and children and I had together, cast now in the golden light of memory, seems unbearably precious; what lies ahead, darker and lonelier and less certain.<\/em><\/p>\n

When I first wrote those words, just two years ago, I couldn\u2019t imagine ever feeling differently.\u00a0 Even as my days slowly filled with new joys and occupations, I felt as if I also lived in the shadow of that darker, lonelier future.\u00a0 With both my sons grown and gone, I wondered if any as-yet-unwritten life chapter could ever feel quite as right<\/i>, quite as challenging and fulfilling, as those years of intense, day-in-day-out togetherness.<\/p>\n

It is such a raw and relentless business, motherhood.\u00a0 There is the constant physical engagement, at once exhilarating and exhausting. But there is also the vehement, insistent emotion; the frightening, thrilling ferocity of our love for these souls we\u2019ve delivered into the world.<\/p>\n

How many times was I brought to my knees by the visceral intimacy of tears and blood and poop, fevers and sweats and strange skin rashes, sibling battles and wild nightmares and crazy, irrational fears? And then, within the same hour sometimes, I would be lifted right up again, exalted and turned inside out by the accidental, extravagant grace of wild laughter or a whoop of glee, a whispered confession, a cuddle, an imponderable question, a kiss delivered to an elbow or a knee (why there<\/em>??), some random joke without a punch-line that made us all giggle anyway.\u00a0 When all of that ended, when first one son and then the other had the audacity to grow up and leave the nest, I was sure our family life would never again be quite as good.<\/p>\n

Last weekend, both our boys were home.\u00a0 We still had about three feet of snow on the ground and not much on the agenda \u2013 a lot of March Madness basketball on the TV, a couple of family dinners, unplanned hours. I made chicken potpie from scratch.\u00a0 Jack (a skilled body worker after three years of interning at a studio in Boston) offered to get me up on the massage table and work on my stiff muscles.\u00a0 For an hour he patiently stretched and manipulated my arms, neck, and shoulders, with extraordinary sensitivity and attentiveness.<\/p>\n

On Sunday morning we went to church and listened to Henry play the organ.\u00a0 As the light poured in through the tall windows, \u00a0as the choir sang the Palm Sunday anthem he\u2019d chosen and rehearsed with them, I was flooded with memories of our son as a little boy straining to reach the foot pedals, practicing hymns on our old upright piano in the living room. \u00a0The tears that sprang to my eyes then weren’t tears of longing for what was, but of gratitude for all that’s come to be.<\/p>\n

The journey between dreaming and becoming, between childhood and adulthood, doesn\u2019t end, of course, when the kids head off for school or leave home or embark on careers or marriages.\u00a0 It is ongoing, full of twists and turns, detours and disappointments, surprises and sudden revelations.<\/p>\n

Who knew that what seemed like a catastrophic loss for one son \u2013 freshman year of college missed, two broken vertebrae and constant, chronic pain \u2013 would inspire this strong-willed boy who once fantasized about being a tennis star to become a compassionate healer instead? \u00a0And how could we have ever imagined that the shy, dreamy child who seemed almost too frail for this world at times, would one day grow up to be a competent, self-assured music director, perfectly at ease performing in front of a congregation and coaching singers four times his age?<\/p>\n

In the afternoon last Sunday, between basketball games and my marathon in the kitchen, Steve and the boys and I all put on our boots and took a walk, our favorite loop through the woods.\u00a0 Gracie trotted ahead, glancing back every few steps as if she couldn\u2019t quite believe her good fortune.\u00a0 For a border collie, heaven is having your entire herd in the same place at the same time \u2013 ideally, out in the woods and sticking close together.<\/p>\n

I knew how she felt.\u00a0 I was happy, too.<\/p>\n

In fact, as we tramped along the path it suddenly occurred to me, for the very first time, that I wouldn\u2019t turn the clock back now even if I could.\u00a0 Not for one hour, not for one day, or for one year or ten.\u00a0 Not for anything.<\/p>\n

It hit me with the power of epiphany:\u00a0 this sudden, unexpected end to the nostalgic longing I\u2019ve carried like a bruise upon my heart for so long that I\u2019ve nearly forgotten what true ease in the here and now feels like.<\/p>\n

Who we are, what we are, where we are at this moment is different from what was, absolutely.\u00a0 But it is in no way less than.\u00a0 And the surprising truth is, I wouldn\u2019t trade our family\u2019s beautiful, complicated, ever shifting and fleeting present for any simpler golden-hued yesterday.<\/p>\n

Instead, I am pausing each day of this Easter week and giving thanks for what is, right now.\u00a0 I am grateful for who we are in this moment: four still-growing human beings, each of us irrevocably, mysteriously, wonderfully connected.\u00a0 Each of us finding our own unique way to be in the world, and at the same time, each of us gratefully returning to this hallowed place of our own creation:\u00a0 this piece of earth, this house, this dinner table, this history, this tangled web of us-ness. \u00a0Yes, we are each still and always unfinished parts of some greater, unknowable whole.\u00a0 And yes, we are still and always something else, too.\u00a0 We are family.<\/p>\n

\n

BIG Magical Journey News (and some Mother’s Day inspiration. . .)<\/span><\/h3>\n

I imagine Cheryl Strayed has gotten used to the accolades by now. \u00a0But for ME a rave in PEOPLE magazine<\/a> is, well, a big deal. \u00a0Was I pleased to find this link<\/a> in my in-box this morning, under the heading “Memoirs We Can’t Put Down”? \u00a0That would be an understatement!\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Maria Shriver is a role model for many of us, and her Architects of Change website is a treasure trove of inspiration, support, and wisdom. \u00a0So it’s a huge honor for me to be listed now among her “guides,” and especially to be featured by her this week. \u00a0Thank you, Maria! \u00a0You can read my essay HERE<\/strong><\/a>.<\/p>\n

Power of Moms<\/strong> is, quite simply, an amazing website. \u00a0Described as “a gathering place for deliberate mothers,” it’s part hang-out, part retreat, part educational resource — and an altogether very friendly, helpful place to be. \u00a0I had such a great time talking with founder April Perry that I nearly forgot we were \u00a0recording a podcast; it was more like talking with a lively, like-minded friend. \u00a0Relax, take a few minutes with a cup of tea, and listen in HERE<\/strong><\/a>.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Appearances<\/strong><\/p>\n

It seems to me that the best book conversations (well, the best conversations in general) are the ones that take place over a good meal. So my writing buddy\u00a0Margaret Roach<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0and I are both looking forward to reuniting at a luncheon hosted by\u00a0The Hickory Stick Bookshop<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0in Washington Depot, CT, on\u00a0Friday, April 19 <\/strong>at noon. \u00a0For the price of a book, you will get a catered lunch, a reading, and time to chat with the two of us too! Call the store at (860) 868-0525\u00a0for more info and to reserve your place.<\/p>\n

I first “met”\u00a0Priscilla Warner<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0right here last June, when she left a comment on a blog post I’d written. \u00a0I immediately read her wonderful memoir\u00a0Learning to Breathe,<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0she read my manuscript of\u00a0Magical Journey<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0and encouraged me through every step of the final revision, and pretty soon it felt as if we’d been friends forever — even though we STILL haven’t ever laid eyes on each other. \u00a0That will change next month, when I go to\u00a0Larchmont, NY, to speak at the Public Library<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0 on Sunday, April 19, at 3:30 — an event Priscilla helped organize, in part, so I can\u00a0finally<\/em>\u00a0come visit her.<\/p>\n

Other spring-time journeys:<\/p>\n

Margaret\u00a0<\/a><\/strong>and I are doing our very last bookstore “duet” at the\u00a0Concord Bookshop<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0on\u00a0Sunday, April 28, at 3.<\/strong>\u00a0\u00a0(Think daffodils, home made cookies, and wide-ranging conversation– everything from the thorny questions of midlife to composting secrets revealed!)<\/p>\n

I’ll be back at\u00a0Ann Patchett’s<\/strong>\u00a0beautiful Nashville bookstore\u00a0Parnassus\u00a0<\/a><\/strong>on\u00a0Thursday,\u00a0May 2, at 7 pm<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

And from Nashville, I’ll go straight to Minneapolis for my final two readings this spring: The annual\u00a0Motherhood and Words talk at the Loft Literary Center<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0on\u00a0Saturday, May 4<\/strong>\u00a0and, finally, to cap it all off, a reading at\u00a0Common Good Books<\/a><\/strong>, Garrison Keillor’s beloved bookstore in downtown St. Paul on\u00a0Monday, May 6<\/strong>. \u00a0Minneapolis friends, St. Olaf connections, Twin Cities readers, I want to see you all there!\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Housekeeping . . .<\/strong><\/p>\n

MOTHER’S DAY<\/strong> isn’t far off. \u00a0Yesterday, I signed and personalized 24 (!) copies of The Gift of an Ordinary Day<\/em> for readers who’d ordered them from my local bookstore, The Toadstool, here in Peterborough, NH. \u00a0I asked Willard, the owner, if he’d be willing to gift-wrap books as Mother’s Day gifts, and he said “Sure.” \u00a0That’s right. \u00a0Now, you can order personalized, signed copies of ANY of my books just by clicking HERE.<\/a>\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0 This will bring you to an order form at the Toadstool’s website. \u00a0Leave a note with your order, letting us know if you want your books personalized and\/or gift-wrapped. \u00a0I’ll sign them, we’ll wrap them beautifully, and we’ll get them right off to you or to the special moms in your life.<\/p>\n

I’ve loved hearing from so many of you! \u00a0Your letters never fail to make my day — they remind me all over again how lucky we all are, to be part of a community of readers, seekers, thinkers, nurturers. \u00a0If you feel inclined to write a bit MORE, however, each and every reader review on \u00a0Goodreads<\/strong><\/a> and on Amazon<\/strong><\/a> is hugely appreciated (by me!) and helpful<\/em>. \u00a0(Doesn’t have to be long, just kind and, preferably, enthusiastic!)
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

Thanks too, my dear friends, for continuing to share\u00a0my video<\/a><\/strong>\u00a0with others, for inviting folks to “like” my\u00a0\u00a0Magical Journey Facebook page,<\/a>\u00a0<\/strong>and for\u00a0sharing my blog posts on your own\u00a0Facebook<\/strong>\u00a0pages and\u00a0Twitter\u00a0<\/strong>feeds. \u00a0There is no denying the power of word of mouth!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u2019ve sometimes wondered if I\u2019ll spend the rest of my life missing my sons as the little boys they used to be. Even now, though it\u2019s been years since I reminded anyone to look both ways, the sight of a mom crossing the street hand-in-hand with a little guy with sleep-tufted hair and rolled up […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[17,30,35,8,9],"tags":[57,135,198,263],"class_list":{"0":"post-1704","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-acceptance","8":"category-gratitude","9":"category-letting-go","10":"category-parenting","11":"category-parenting-boys-parenting","12":"tag-acceptance-2","13":"tag-contentment","14":"tag-gratitude-2","15":"tag-letting-go-2","16":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1704","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1704"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1704\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1704"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1704"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1704"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}