May 24, 2013
Categories: Feel Good Fridays
Missoula

Missoula, MT

What an amazing collective exhale! For those of you who are new here, this month’s Home Work was to let something go. The following submissions vary greatly and each one is an amazing testament to the power of intention.

Enjoy the weekend read!

Dripping Springs, Texas & sometimes East Austin:

My commitment and consecration:

I will let go of the thought that I must always keep my home perfectly neat and clean, and that I must prepare 3 home-cooked meals for my family each day.

My moment of consecration was when I rented a small studio space in East Austin so I could get away from the June Cleaver standards/nightmare I had created for myself.

A few thoughts that came up through the month that threatened to derail you:

Will my family become ill or suffer from obesity or premature death because I neglected to watch what they were eating and prepare healthy meals for them? Will a neighbor show up at my messy house and judge me or call the health department? Will I flip my lid because I’m so attached to the thought that I need a neat and orderly space in order to do creative work? Or can I be creative in a messy environment? (The answer to that last question is YES, much to my surprise.)

How you felt after giving a full month’s intention to the letting go:

I felt so empowered and proud of myself. I let go of things that were VERY hard for me to let go — chores, housework, cooking and laundry. (I don’t love these things, but I’ve always thought I couldn’t live in a messy or cluttered home without going off my rocker.) So far, I’ve witnessed larger piles of laundry & taller stacks of dishes than I ever thought possible, BUT… we’ve survived. I’m now following my dream of creating art, alternative apparel & unique gifts that are in alignment with our whole “Cosmic Acres” journey and way of life.  I realized I was using my “chores” as a cop out and it was time for me to let that go. Of course, chores still need to be done, and my house feels pretty gross to ME (not my boys) but so far this month,  I’ve created 9 colorful pieces of art, sourced a ton of materials for future projects and overhauled my website.

I also put aside my fear of being judged and posted my work on my website and Facebook. Eeek.

Making space to create has shown me that I am full of ideas and art, and that my purpose here on Earth is more than just doing housework.  I’ve GOT to let stuff go so I can make space for more important things, otherwise, I will leave this life with loads of regret.

Missoula, Montana: 

I chose to let go of resenting my mother, because it drains me of positivity, inhibits my relationship with my own children, and frankly, is completely unfounded.

I’ll admit that minor annoyances that presented themselves throughout the month occasionally triggered the resentment.  Although I have been allowing myself to be temporarily annoyed, I have worked very hard to DROP IT and move on, instead of obsessing over it.  Additionally, I remind myself daily that my mother loves me as much as I love my own children, and as such, would not do anything intentionally to impede my happiness.

After a month of working toward this, I feel happier than ever, have more energy than I have in years (all that negativity was exhausting!), and appreciative for all the family and love I have in my life.

I was lucky enough to spend Mother’s Day weekend outdoors with my whole family, including my parents, my husband, and my children.  As I inhaled the crisp morning air on a lakeside walk, I had the perfect opportunity to meditate on the unrivaled loved between a mother and her children. And I let go for good.

Austin, TX: 

I am in the throes of life with a newborn, so I was not able to be as intentional with this as I would have liked.  However, the timing of your challenge coincided with the start of something I’ve struggled with immensely the last few years: bloody hot summers in Austin with lots of small children clambering at my feet.  That has been my repeated experience of the last few years. So, I chose to let go of the dread.  I will not dread summer anymore. From now on I will simply expect fun to present itself.

What has threatened to derail me is the unprecedented HUMIDITY this season. Eeesh. And, that everyone simply loves to complain about the hot summers. But letting go of the dread has enabled me to truly appreciate the remarkably mild temperatures we are having NOW. If I don’t waste time dreading the future, my now is much more pleasant. Imagine that!

Ambergris Caye, Belize: 

My commitment:

To let go of the emotional attachment to my family reaching out to me or interacting with me via email and facebook (since I live out of the country). I decided in a moment to just not spend time obsessing about it (and checking email and facebook to see if they would respond or comment to anything I had to say, or checking skype to see if any of them are logged in).  I know where I stand with them, I don’t need these things as validation.  I am not going to let this continue to highjack my mental and emotional well-being.

Thoughts that came up through the month that threatened to derail you:

Why don’t they interact in the only way we can right now?  What does that say about me and how important (or not) I am to them)?  This should bother me, they are my family, etc..  I need to tell them that this upsets me, etc..

How you felt after giving a full month’s intention to the letting go:

After about a half-day thinking about it I realized that giving some mental time to letting it go changed everything.  I just didn’t think about it anymore.  I know they are busy and life carries on and my value does not rest anywhere in this issue.  It was nice to spend extra mental and emotional time with my husband and kids.

Santa Fe, NM:

I finished reading Loving What Is right before you issued this homework, so this was a very timely challenge. For homework #3, I let go of yelling at my kids. It wasn’t serving any purpose except to ruin our days. I was tired of being angry at such sweet little faces, and tired of being angry at myself for making them cry (usually because they were just being kids) and being a terrible mother. So, I told myself that there wasn’t anything I needed to do better, I was just going to give up yelling at them.

The thought that threatened to derail me? They don’t listen unless I yell. Which isn’t true – they are usually listening and choosing to do otherwise. Or the thought that the baby should be napping. That one really got me. I spend most of my days trying to get someone to sleep, or back to sleep, and I was getting over-the-top frustrated many times a day because it wasn’t working. So I kind of gave up the thought that she should be napping, but not really. She should, I just don’t yell at her about it anymore. Can you believe I was yelling at a baby? Silly. And pointless. And kind of mean.

It was hard not to let everyone know (at the top of my lungs) that things weren’t happening how I thought they should be happening. But even though I’m mom and I’m in charge and all that, maybe my way isn’t the best way. My yelling certainly wasn’t, and our days have been significantly better since I gave it up. My kids are happier and I feel like a good mom again. Oh, and my husband is yelling less too, even without my nagging him (if you can believe it).

Pleasanton, California: 

I’ve suffered from a vicious cycle of anxiety and depression for longer than I’d like to admit. Much of it is fueled by my inner need to do the next thing, to be in the next place and to never really feeling full at anything. So I’ve decided to let go of that need to be someone, somewhere or something I’m not and to embrace my life, right here, right now. Tis has not been an easy task. It’s a whole mind shift and a daily commitment to find joy in what is. I’ve been praying about it and I’ve made progress, small progress, but I keep looking forward. Thank you for this opportunity and the motivation to know I can do it.

San Antonio, TX:

My wife filed for divorce last week. It’s been a while coming. Thank you for your writing. The assignment helped me turn the taking-off-the-ring into a letting go ceremony. Took a walk in a thunderstorm and talked to God and cried and got soaked through. But after, I feel like I’m going to be alright. Every time I’ve taken my ring off over the last year and a half (since she last wore hers) I felt terrible. Now I feel, not good, sorta sad, but willing to let go. Hard to describe.

Austin, TX: 

My letting go project was that of letting go of thoughts and longing for a life in Tulum. My mantra has been “it’s just not time…..yet. Be realistic and grab hold of the beauty you have access to. But also, don’t lose sight of your dreams and still make it happen!” For months now, we’ve been trying to figure out where we would go after coming back from Mexico. I plotted, dreamed and cast a large net to see what would come back with the most fish and low and behold, the fish started flying in. Fish from Colorado, that is. ;) Once that became obvious and we began making more concrete plans, it started to feel really awesome and I’m now at peace with our decision. Over the month, we’ve found a house and secured jobs. The house I found kind of incorporates a little homework #2 action. I found us a house in the city (Denver) and it sits on a functioning, urban farm. Our landlady is our neighbor and she raises wolf hounds. AND – the house comes with a green house, a chicken coop and 8 chickens! It’s like that! “Find the beauty that surrounds you”, that’s another mantra.

Thoughts that derailed me……take no offense to this but seeing all the beautiful images of a place I love so much, filled with amazing people and the most out-of-the-world cenotes, derails me often. Instead of letting it eat me alive I’ve chosen to see my Mexico dream in different terms. Mexico isn’t going anywhere and there is absolutely NO reason I still can’t try to make that happen. We will be there again…….it’ll just take a little more time. Until then, I’m so lucky to have such a magical place to visit and hommies to hang with. (Berry’s, that’s you.) Planning a trip there soon so can’t wait to swim in the riviera maya with my peeps again!

I thank you from the depths of my soul for these homework challenges. It has given me such an excuse to live a life beyond my comfort zones. No other way to live in my opinion.

Bavaria:

It took me some time to precisely decide on the commitment. My first thought, or rather wish, was to let go of all sugar, which right away unleashed a craving for sugary stuff which was amazing; I felt the force of withdrawal even before I had written it down or gotten into action. Weird.

So I did not jump right into it but thought about it for a while, watched the cravings and thoughts and took notes of benefits and tough parts of the project as well as possible roots of my “misuse” of snacks. This was highly interesting and I hoped it would be helpful in the weeks to come. My biggest worry, since I’m rather underweight, was not getting enough energy. I decided to let go of that aim of “sugarlessness”, and chose to focus on high food quality instead.

Next I collected what I would use instead of the convenient snacks – like homemade cereal bars or avocado mousse au chocolat … and looked for not-so-food-related hidden reasons which make me eat the processed stuff, like my emotional state or doing-what-all-do, to increase  awareness of as much as possible of what is really going on, when I snack.

The commitment I finally chose was:

“I let go of processed food and snacks because it harms my body.”

I wrote down all the snack stuff which came to my mind and burnt the paper to hopefully turn all the cravings into smoke and ashes. The first weeks I felt good, there wasn’t much of a temptation even with snacks and sweets around me. I felt the power of the little burning ritual for quite a long time.

The thoughts that threatened to derail me most were:

“You will get seriously sick if you do not get enough calories.”

“You know your strength is not great when you see other people eat it, and you don’t want to leave the company.”

“Do you really think anything can replace  those snacks? What else should have all the nice effects?”

“It might be easy if you clear all cupboards but you very well know the other family members will soon refill the supplies.”

This week the snacks sneaked back into my life while we had a friend staying with us for some days –  different nutrition habits and needs, lack of time for cooking thoroughly – well known traps. The good thing about this is that it helps me see how instead of acting with awareness I am re-acting to circumstances and other people.

As for my own process of letting go? 

It was a bit of a heavy month, as I found myself wanting to let go of lots of things all at once. I am going to cheat a bit and share one with you today and offer the other BIG one next week as a separate post:

My commitment and moment of consecration: 

I let go of the thought that my children are a royal handful.

I swam alone (for a minute) through a dark cenote with bats over my head and ceremoniously proclaimed my girls “perfect exactly as they are.”

Thoughts that came up through the month that threatened to derail me: 

But they are always needing, always arguing with me, always making messes, always demanding, yelling, fighting and never consider that I am human, too. They should be better behaved. They should listen to me without backtalk. They should not expect me to solve every tiny problem instantly.

How I felt after giving a full month’s intention to letting go:

Ridiculous and unreasonable for expecting so much of three children whom we’ve moved around repeatedly, made to learn and function at a high level in a new language and all without much support or many friends (i.e. FUN) to help them see the good in what we’ve been doing.

I also felt a strong need to check my priorities and slow my pace to allow for more time to enjoy our experiences together, not simply moving through them.

I realized how I reenforce much of the behavior by giving that same energy right back in the form of arguing, yelling back and solving their problems to stop the whining. I realized how essential it is that I am in a good space, myself, if I want them to be.

I was able to connect in many sweet moments with each one once I calmed my own energy and looked for the source of their frustrations. They reacted amazingly well in the times I truly listened to them. Imagine that.

Thanks to everyone who contributed, feel free to add your own experience in the comments, and here’s to continued renewal through the intentional setting aside of things that no longer serve us. 

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May 22, 2013
Categories: Feel Good Fridays

choose

Two things:

1. Friday, I’ll be posting your submissions for Home Work Project #3: Let Something Go. Here’s what to send along:

  • Your one-sentence commitment (and a description of your moment of consecration, if you like).
  • A few thoughts that came up through the month that threatened to derail you.
  • How you felt after giving a full month’s intention to the letting go.
  • Your location.

I’ll be compiling results tomorrow, so anytime before 10 pm Thursday would be swell. (And don’t lose any sleep over it — your brief description is just as valuable.)

2.  A message well worth the ten minutes:

YouTube Preview Image

Can’t wait to hear your reflections and share a few of my own!

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May 20, 2013

reverent peacock

Yesterday we decided to get out of Dodge for a bit and explore the Quintana Roo countryside. Though Valladolid, a medium-sized colonial town about an hour west of here, was our eventual “destination,” one of my favorite things about day tripping of this sort is the chance to wander without a plan…to be open to wherever the road (or needs of children) may lead us.

This time, agendalessness turned out to be a fabulous idea, as I can’t really imagine a lovelier day, nor unforeseen treasures more delightful.

We packed the van with little more than bathing suits, sunscreen and a ukulele, stopped for breakfast at a family dive along the way, kicked around a bit in Valladolid and then, in a sweaty search for a cenote, ended up at a most incredible horse ranch atop an underworld fantasy.

Here’s a little taste of our journey (with descriptions after every third photo):

road trip

chilaquiles

butcher 2

1. Wanda, our trusty and “well-loved” minivan, whose DVD player was broken (to my delight and the girls’ disappointment) by her previous owners.

2. Amazing chilaquiles (a personal favorite) at the hole-in-the-wall where Hunter buys lunch for his crews every day.

3. A friendly butcher doing his thing in the shade of a palapa.

horse kiss

old mexico

duck

4. A wet welcome to the horse ranch.

5. The place showed its age, charmingly.

6. Sky blue + duck skin orange.

horse ring

horse gate

horse run

7.  A lienzo charro, or arena for tournaments of charrostorneo de colas and bull riding.

8. Oh how I’d love to go back when the place is packed with people and horses.

9. Cattle chute. Anyone know much about these events? Please share — I’m so curious!

from the outside

close up

horse light

10. From the wild side.

11. You could almost see the breath from his nostrils.

12. My favorite of the bunch.

going in

cenote

jumping in

13. The temperature drop halfway down had to be at least 20 degrees.

14. Unbelievable, and a likely site of Maya sacrifice.

15. Just before jumping.

road trip 2

cocos frios

cocos frios 2

16. Ukulele lesson #1.

17. Pit stop for refrescos.

18. Cocos frios. Nothing better on a 105 degree day.

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May 17, 2013

Since living in Tulum, I have happened upon at least half a dozen photo shoots, some rather curious…

neon wonder

…and others, a truly fascinating glimpse into just how natural the “natural beauty” presented to us in “blemish”-free, “sun”-kissed, and “wind”-swept advertisements really is. The common thread through each encounter? I was never once struck by the attractiveness or sex appeal of the supermodel, but each time amused by the fumbling and adjusting and wiggling that had to happen in order to capture that stranded-on-a-tropical-island-without-a-toothbrush-but-still-kissable-as-ever look that marketers pay millions to pull off and consumers pay billions in (mostly futile) attempts to obtain.

A few weeks back, I decided to ditch the laptop and write on the beach (because I can). Notebook, pencil and camera (always) at the ready, I rode my cruiser the twenty-five minutes to the shore, parked myself in the shade of a palapa and opened myself to inspiration. Little did I know it was to appear in the form of a 6’2″ copper-toned teen, her gear-laden entourage of photographers and makeup artists and a florescent assortment of Brazilian bikinis.

For the next two hours, the four of them put on quite a show, not only for me, but for the rest of the suddenly-less-sleepy beach goers, the mildly-interested wait staff and a displaced Chiapan purse peddler

Maya

Averaging about forty “sexy” stances per minute (heck yeah, I counted), the gangly youth (the model, not the peddler) thrust her hips, pursed her lips, flung her hair and caressed her cleavage like some kind of spastic, egomaniacal wind-up toy whose inventor loved porn second only to caffeine.

{I’m choosing not to show you the model as making fun of her is not my point.}

But try as I did to see the sex appeal she was clearly attempting to convey, all I saw was a young woman freaked out by seaweed, worried over the unruly way of the wind with her hair, concerned that her boobs were only mostly revealed by the orange sherbet push up and three diligent devotees fighting physics in order to keep her upright in heals on sand.

And though “ridiculous” is more the adjective that comes to mind when I think of how she looked, I did see beauty that afternoon. In fact, there was plenty of it, all around her:

  • In the way her trusty attendant admired the sandpipers while she held the girl’s towel during a swimsuit change.
  • In the way the woman holding the sail-like light reflector was able to laugh at herself as she attempted to tame the wind.
  • In the playfulness of a mother making sandcastles with her kid.
  • In the indiscriminate and obvious love for children by their nannies, however underpaid.
  • And in the relief on the face of the Chiapan girl when I knew where she was from based on the embroidery on her blouse.

Can you imagine the shift in cultural consciousness if we all simply defined beauty for ourselves?

But I see an even larger dilemma in the making than the millions spent by marketers to train our eyes away from the beauty all around us and toward the deceptive promises of their products — and that is that we’re now selling the same fallacy to each other without even realizing it.

Take my current Facebook profile pic, for example, cause I’m guilty, too:

Me and My Man
Not bad, huh? Good light, gorgeous backdrop, comfortable expressions and decent tans. So what’s the big deal? It is real, right? I mean we really live near the beach and our hair is really messy from ocean breezes and those highlights are really there thanks to the Caribbean sun.

Except that if you were to look at this photo without knowing much about us and create a story about our lives based on what you imagine, you would likely miss the mark entirely.

For one, even though I don’t “touch up” my photos (as a matter of principle), cropping alone reduces reality:

Me and My Man Uncropped

By zooming in on our faces in order to accentuate beauty as our culture defines it, you miss parts of our story that have made our lives TRULY beautiful, like Hunter’s love for good times, the nine years I nursed my babies and the fact that we are decreasingly self conscious as we age.

Two, you would have no idea how many unflattering shots it took to get one good one…

another weird photo

?

Three, you’d never guess that my sly smile was due to the likelihood of cilantro in my teeth from the ceviche I had just eaten…

"you've got cilantro in your teeth"

And last but definitely not least, you’d have no idea who was behind the camera…

me and my girl

So, let’s try this little exercise again. Here’s a photo of me with my first born that got a lot of attention as her FB profile pic (post editing).

But again, zoom out a little, add the “blemishes” back in and remove the Instagram filter and suddenly, we’re back on planet earth as mother and daughter on a beach…

Sigorni and I, Unfiltered

*A Quick Tangent: As fun as I know Instagram to be (as well as all other instantaneous photo enhancement tools), it concerns me that my kids will all grow up filtering reality to this degree, then presenting their lives to each other slightly enhanced. I mean, I realize I’m coming from a generation raised on film cameras, but I simply can’t see how it would have served me to enhance that period of my life…

me in 7th grade

Anyway, scroll through the dozens of other shots we took that day…

no idea

she's going to kill me when she sees this

And you’ll see what a couple of dorks we really are when you get us together. Even still, you would have no idea of the depth of our story:

Like the fact that I only get to see my baby girl a handful of weeks a year. Or that she rips off a chunk of my heart and takes it with her every time she returns to Pennsylvania. That she has overcome all kinds of obstacles in order to be able to laugh like that again, and that my parents were not only right behind us eating ceviche when these pictures were taken, but that they are my biggest heros ever for letting her live with them and loving her as she’s healed.

By focusing so heavily as a culture on images and photos and the partial truths of other peoples’ lives, we detract from the real beauty of our own stories, which can only be experienced firsthand.

So, I encourage you — the next time you find yourself longing for what someone else has deemed a “beach body”…

You can’t roll around like that on the beach without getting sand in your crotch. Just sayin’.

or coveting a friend’s recent camping trip…

beach camping

Gritty, uncooked stew anyone?

or wishing you could actually live at Anthropologie…

Bedding from Anthropologie

Where would you actually SLEEP on a bed so covered in cushions?

…zoom out a little, add the blemishes back in, imagine that supermodel hurling rice cakes into the toilet and then ask yourself:

  • What is my brand of beautiful?
  • What is the unique version of stunning only I can offer the world?
  • What is beautiful in my immediate proximity right now?

For THIS is where the ultimate beauty lies — in the truest expression of you, unfiltered. 

no filter needed

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May 14, 2013
Coconut trees as tall as redwoods are a special kind of wonderful.

Coconut trees as tall as redwoods are a special kind of wonderful.

This year may have been my favorite Mother’s Day yet (and not just because all the rest are a blur of buffets and bouquets in my bourgeoning brain).

Rather than recount the details of our breakfast out, super-hurried family-style grocery run and afternoon in the jungle with monkeys, I thought I’d share a few realizations I had as the day unfolded:

1. There comes a time in the life of a mother when — as much as she adores her offspring — taking them to brunch as reward for her dedication, selflessness, missed sleep and excrement handling sounds more like propaganda pushed by the same mother-loathing cultural conspiracists who created shaving as a part of daily grooming, scentless roses and printer cartridges that hold exactly a week’s worth of ink, than a gesture of celebration or gratitude.

There THEN comes the day when she calmly and assuredly decides to return Mother’s Day to its rightful position among pleasantries and forevermore brunch only with humans above 18 and civil enough not to scream her name as if being murdered or insist that she watch them poop in 110 degree bathrooms while her cappuccino grows cold and its foam is stolen by those who are clearly only along for the free food.

The best of ten photos. Pretty much sums it up.

The best of ten photos. Pretty much sums it up.

2. I can’t speak for all husbands, but mine can look at his watch (I take that back, MY watch — he doesn’t wear one), register the fifty-five minutes we have to buy groceries, drive home, make a salad, brew iced tea, load the cooler, pack for swimming, pick up friends and get to the jungle — and seriously suggest we have plenty of time for shoe shopping. My realization? I mind this annoyance less than brunching with my children.

3. It’s probably best that we don’t ever move back to the US, given that we have never been known for punctuality and are now quite accustomed to the latin norm of a suggested arrival time, followed by the more likely and actually expected arrival time of an hour or three later. The irony that we’re nearly always late by our guilty gringo gauge but the first at the fiesta is almost worth sticking around for, in and of itself.

4. Pretty sure my genes are more similar to those of spider monkeys than humans who deny our shared ancestral pool or leave their babies to cry for extended periods. Just sayin’.

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

5. Cenotes — while utterly amazing as swimming holes — are death traps when covered by leaves and numerous around these parts as acorns under an oak.

sink hole Tulum

sinkhole Tulum

6. My husband — who hacks his way through the jungle on a weekly basis — needs a whistle and a raise, considering the aforementioned.

sinkhole 3

7. Anyone who builds a moat around his house, warns kids to look out for crocs, then lets them think he’s kidding for a few hours before pointing one out is someone it pleases me to know.

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

Crocodile in cenote

8. Of all the things it takes to feel at home in a place, for me it really just boils down to finding that handful of families with whom we flow really well and who can handle high levels of chaos. Done.

my girlfriends

9. The cultural conditioning that would have me embarrassed in my underwear but confident in a bathing suit of nearly the same style is not only weird, but ALMOST strong enough to keep me from swimming in breathtaking beauty on a 90-degree day. (Darn, no photo.)

10. In case you think you might ever find yourself peering over the edge of a deep dark hole in the jungle floor and hesitant to jump, might I suggest that you go with a large group of good-looking people, forget your swim suit, work up a good sweat and ignore your cultural conditioning. Best decision ever.

my turn

And just because they’re so fabulous…seems we ought to end with more monkeys:

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

Mimi, the monkey on the right, was rescued after years of living with humans. Unlike most spider monkeys who walk on all fours 80% of the time, her habits are reversed – she walks 80% upright.

overweight monkey

This particular group of monkeys was severely overweight from overeating and a lack of access to trees for exercise (common when monkeys are kept as pets). The Tulum Monkey Sanctuary is a rescue and rehab center where the animals are eventually allowed to roam the 2.5 acre reserve, as the success rate for full reentry into the wild is very low following domestication.

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

Tulum Monkey Sanctuary

*Many thanks to Richard and John for a truly amazing day.

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May 11, 2013
Categories: Feel Good Fridays

kindergarten

Today is El Dia de Las Madres here in Mexico. Currently, I am sitting at a marina restaurant in the gated resort community where my children go to school, passing time between two of their Mother’s Day programs. Directly to my right is an overpriced gift shop, to my left, a Caribbean-style Omni, and in front of me is a “dolphin discovery” center where you can pay shit tons of money to swim with dolphins pose for really expensive photos in close proximity to super intelligent mammals in captivity.

What? You mean I’ve never quite explained this element of the girls’ current school experience? The fact that they attend a rich kid school in a guarded neighborhood gilded with condos and mansions?

Yeah, well that’s because until today, I wasn’t too excited about sharing this minor detail. In fact, before today, I felt the need to justify this choice to anyone who knew:

“It truly is the only good school within 45 minutes of our house.”

“We’re really not rich — three kids can go to school here for the price of one private school tuition, stateside.”

“It’s the only place here my kids can receive a quality education in both Spanish and English.”

“We live in a mixed-income neighborhood in Tulum intentionally, and make a point to expose our kids to people from all economic walks.”

But something happened this morning that makes such explanations seem unnecessary, even ridiculous.

First, I should explain that this month — as a part of an ongoing collective project here on my blog — our Home Work, if you will, was to let something go, whether a thought, a behavior, a vice or a judgement that no longer serves us. Had I not already been thinking along these lines, I’m not sure my day would have proven half as impactful.

As I approached the school in my usual knit tank, sky-blue secondhand skirt, well-worn Chacos and makeup-less, neutral expression I was, as always, struck by the…slightly different attire of the majority of the mothers:

  • Three inch pumps with skin-tight dresses,
  • High-waisted mini skirts and with wide sequin belts
  • Sheer tops “hiding” patterned push-up bras
  • and more makeup than I’ve ever worn in costume.

Equally notable were the mothers’ mannerisms:

  • Loud, sing song voices,
  • Expressions of dramatic exasperation,
  • Forced laughter over nothing I would deem funny
  • and dramatic story telling rivaling telenovelas.

Now, I’m an open-minded person, truly I am. I have a general love for the whole of humanity, friends in every income bracket and no problem with rich folk, per se. But surround me with chicas ricas who can barely walk because of the height of their heals and who must have chronic sore throats from all that squealing, and I automatically start scanning the crowd for someone unshaven or draped in linen or sporting seed beads to save me from certain and impending…smalltalk.

Anyway, uncomfortable enough in my own skin to recognize the presence of unevaluated thoughts, I breathed deeply, identified the unwanted emotion as judgement, then slowly released it with a giant exhale and silent affirmation…

“I let go of all judgement toward each woman in this school because holding onto that story no longer serves me.”

And not even kidding, in an instant, all the fresas became real people with real lives

  • I imagined the lady in the silver dress not being botoxed, but coaxing her kid to eat his morning oatmeal.
  • I envisioned the postpartum mom in the push up bra trying on four outfits before finally feeling cute in the one she chose.
  • I saw the woman in three-inch pumps blushing before her senior prom as a man she adored proclaimed her “beautiful in heals,” then hold tight to her father’s rare complement like life itself.

Then I asked myself why I cared how they were acting and imagined them as a tribe of indigenous women washing clothes in a stream. Suddenly, their loud sing song voices were sweet, soulful music, their exasperation comical and invigorating, their laughter over nothing a true gift of the light-hearted and their drama a dying art of passing stories.

By the time all the moms had congregated and our kindergarteners began singing, I was fighting back tears. First gushing over my own baby, then scanning the faces of each of these women, wearing nothing half as gorgeous as absolute adoration on their own beaming faces, it hit me that not only do we have much in common, but that what we share is all that actually matters:

  • We all adore our children beyond measure.
  • We all want the very best for our families.
  • We all wonder whether everything we give of ourselves will be the right combination of enough.
  • We are each aging and struggle to feel beautiful, even presentable some days.
  • We each react to the weight of the world based on our unique stories, and many of our chapters were written for us well before we were born. 

And suddenly, when I looked beyond the wall of cameras and iphones, I saw something strangely familiar in these women’s faces:

I saw pride.

I saw joy.

I saw exhaustion.

I saw depth.

I saw sadness for the fleeting sweetness of childhood.

I saw real women.

Once I dropped the judgement, they each looked a whole lot like…me.

The most profound moment of the morning, however, came when we were all dispersed to our children’s classrooms for a final surprise. As “fate” would have it, I took a seat across the table from the one woman in the school I had previously pegged as the queen bee-otch.

As each child ran to her cubby, returned beaming with pride and unveiled an oversized, hand-print palm tree t-shirt, this particular mother — the very same woman I’ve seen yell rudely across a classroom when her needs weren’t quickly met, chew out a security guard for challenging her parking place and push the teachers around as if her son were all that mattered — cupped her baby boy’s face in her hands, gazed deeply into his eyes, then buried her tear-soaked face into his hair as if…he were the only thing that mattered.

How dare I judge her story? How dare I pretend to know the weight she carries? How dare I assign a label to this mother — to any mother  – who clearly loves just as deeply as I do and gives everything she has.

None of the women I saw today know that I’ve judged them, nor does it matter whether they’ve judged the quiet wallflower of a mother who apparently only owns one skirt.

What matters is what I’m called to say to you in retrospect – to all women; all mothers everywhere:

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for every judgmental thought I’ve ever entertained against you.

I’m sorry for my shallow depth of field that has prevented me from seeing beyond appearances.

I’m sorry for the times when you were dying inside and I pegged you as rude or uncaring.

I’m sorry for reducing you to an economic bracket or assuming you anything like another woman I once knew judged.

I’m sorry for failing to see that my heart for impoverished women had been discriminating based on something so irrelevant as money.

And I’m sorry for letting preconceived notions get in the way of relationship.

Mostly though, I want thank you for being your child’s everything. You’re irreplaceable, you know? We have this in common, at the very least.

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May 10, 2013

hammocks Tulum

It’s been one of those weeks for me (thus the lack of posts). Not the too-exhausted-to-get-out-of-bed type of week, and not quite the crazy-overwhelmed-and-in-over-my-head kind either, but more like the oh-my-gosh-I-can-hardly-contain-all-these-great-ideas-and-would-everyone-please-just-stop-saying-MOM-before-I-snap-under-the-weight-of-endless-petty-NEEDS type of week.

Fortunately(?), I’ve been here enough times to recognize the source of my imbalance, and the solution is pretty much the opposite of rocket science: I need to slow down.

There’s evidence of this all around me:

  • I have at least 15 tabs open on my computer at all times. Currently, they range from a self-publishing site I was recently turned on to, to Hyperbole and a Half, who just officially announced she is posting again!, to an article about Coca-Cola I am referencing for a piece I’m writing. Why do I keep them all open? Because they all feel important enough to give attention to, yet not important enough to add to my to-do list. And besides…

  • I write to-do lists and then never even look at them again before writing the next one.

  • I’ve slipped back into the habit of helping with homework while stirring tomato sauce, washing dishes and writing, then wondering why I’m not particularly enjoying any of them.

  • The number of comments I’ve yet to respond to is starting to make me feel like a big jerk (sorry friends – it’s not you, it’s me).

  • Not only am I backed up on the laundry, but I actually have a rewash pile specifically for clothes the bats have pooped on while drying and I haven’t felt like dealing with yet. I have a bat poop pile in my house, folks. If that doesn’t say something about my priorities…

Huh. Sounds a whole lot like the life I once lived before I realized I didn’t want that anymore.

Thing is, I’m on fire right now. I have not one, but three books waking me up at night begging to be written, I’ve got more brilliant blog posts stewing than there are hours in a month, I can’t ever study enough Spanish to satiate this new love of mine (no worries, Hunter, it’s only mastery of the subjunctive I crave) and now there’s a farmer’s market right next to a permaculture site within walking distance of my house.

Hello again, Beth Berry, multitasking addict/overachiever with impossible standards for herself. How did you sneak back in??

I actually know how. I’ve taken on a grand new pursuit that I happen to LOVE (no, not kiteboarding just yet, but writing), I have a clear vision of where I’m headed (with written goals) and no matter how slow the immediate world around me, my north American tendency toward busy feels about as natural to me as siesta to my neighbors. (Not good natural, mind you, just default natural.)

So this week, I decided to scrap my writing schedule, do shit tons of yoga and intentionally slow down (I even chose restorative hatha classes instead of my usual vinyasa power flow. That’s progress, right?)

And as usual, just as soon as I decided to make a positive shift, confirmation came out of the woodwork (or cinderblock, as it were) — this time the form of a friend’s new book: Slow Family Living.

slow family

Bernadette Noll is a fellow mother-of-four from Austin with many perspectives similar to my own…

Nowadays many of us live away from our families and so the village must be formed. If there is any advise I can give to young families–no matter whether you are urban, suburban, rural or somewhere in between–it is to build your tribe, find your people, create your village. And once you do, gather with them regularly for comfort, for solace, for rituals, and for fun.

As well as tried and true ideas for connecting with the family that I never would have thought of:

In the bathroom I have fixed a plastic sleeve to the wall across from the toilet. It isn’t the fanciest thing I have ever created but it is utilitarian in design and completely effective in its usage. It is not a place for appointments reminders or other calendar events, rather it is a place where I can forward onto my family all the inspirations I recieve throughout the day…prose pertinent to something we might be experiencing as a family or comics that are relevant to our situation.

All too familiar with the precarious balance of intentional motherhood, rich family life, personal growth and self employment, she’s done us all a real service by spelling out simple, practical and creative strategies for slowing down, connecting and creating more joy within our families.

With chapters like:

  • Beneath Every Behavior Is a Need

  • Listen With Your Heart Open

  • Play Hooky, Family Style

  • Spacious Transitions

  • and Don’t Sweep Until the Rice Dries

Bernadette does a beautiful job pointing out how little is needed beyond our time and willingness to slow it back down and reconnect to what matters most.

I highly recommend the read.

As for me, I’ve got her book on my nightstand, I’m setting work hours that end well before the kids come home (rocket science, I tell you) and thanks to Bernadette, I’m once again reminded that now is enough, there’s really no big hurry and connecting with my kids can be simple as a bathroom bulletin board.

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May 3, 2013
Categories: Feel Good Fridays

“Live authentically. Why would you continue to compromise something that’s beautiful to create something that is fake? There is nothing more beautiful than seeing a person being themselves. Imagine going through your days being unapologetically YOU.” ― Steve Maraboli

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April 30, 2013

bigote de semillas

Our house has been under construction since September. That’s eight months of concrete dust, hammer-to-chisel chinks in time with the second hand and sweaty construction crew in and out of my home while I work. It’s been slow, it’s been messy, it’s been hard to concentrate and…it’s been totally awesome.

Last week, despite diligent efforts to keep overtly negative and insensitive people out of my experience, one slipped through and made her mark in the form of a fear-mongering rant on my Facebook feed — about how Mexicans should go back to their country. About how Mexican-Americans should all be made to learn English. About how the borders should be tightened and healthcare restricted and laws buttoned up to keep “their kind” from taking “our jobs.”

After I calmed myself a bit, then blocked this particular “friend” from my feed (better that Facebook filter such filth than have to process it myself), it occurred to me that there are many people in my home country who have no frame of reference whatsoever from which to imagine Mexico or Mexicans aside from the nightly news, ignorant immigration indoctrination and of course, a story they once heard from their uncle’s girlfriend’s boss whose car was stolen and found south of the border reeking of weed and stripped of its stereo.

Truth is, even some of my well-educated and non-bigoted friends and family have a hard time imagining why we want to live somewhere so dangerous, drug-ridden and parasite-plagued.

Not only are most of these perspectives unfair and unfounded (okay, so we have had our fair share of parasites) but they give a wholly inaccurate picture of the vast majority of this culturally-rich, family-centered and laid-back country and detract from the reality that Mexico presents much less to fear than to learn from.

Before I offer my own perspective, allow me to introduce the crew…

The guys + Estella on break. At this particular moment they were playing toss with a hackie sack and laughing loud enough to make me want to capture the moment.

The guys on break + Estella, playing hackie sack toss while singing.

Far from decapitators or drug lords — in fact, as nice a group of guys as you’ll ever meet — they spend their weekdays here in Tulum and return to their village and families every weekend.

Not only are they talented, helpful, kind, funny and good natured, but they’ve grown quite fond of my kids and fostered a relationship with them well beyond the perfunctory hired-help-in-the-house congeniality you might expect.

A few examples: 

Every day, as I come and go — requiring that the dogs be corralled, the gate be opened and then closed again behind me — at least one of them stops whatever he’s doing, runs over to assist me and watches for passersby as I back out.

And every day when the girls come home from school, they’re met by waves and grins and hair tousles, then invited for a ten-minute ballgame or craft session or lesson in masonry or Maya.

{Remember these seeds?}

mobile from cedro seeds

insects from cedro seeds

necklace from cedro seeds

necklace from cedro seeds

Just a few of the creations my kids have made with the crew during their daily siestas.

And though they certainly don’t have to harvest coconuts for me, to sweep the patio, to patch my broken car window, to clean the pool, to wipe up their chalky footprints from my floor or to play the guitar while my kids sing songs, they do, and truly seem to see past the obvious socio-economic divide that would make many people leery or resentful.

harvesting coconuts

cutting coconuts

Perhaps my favorite times are when Estella and her 20-something-year-old friend swap words in Spanish (a second language for both of them), then double over in laughter at the strange sounds.

“Como se dice ‘rana’?”

“Frog.”

“FROG?” En serio? FROG?” Hahaahahaha!!”

“Y en Maya?”

“Much.”

“MUCH?” No me digas!!!!!!”

Their laughter is contagious, heartfelt and loud.

So, without further adieu, in honor of The Crew and inspired by three years living among Mexicans, I offer:

A Picture of Mexico You Won’t See On The Nightly News

– which could also be titled –

8 Things the US Could Stand to Learn From Its Southern Neighbors

1. Resourcefulness – I have never seen so many items cleverly repurposed or materials put to good use as I have in Mexico. Coming from a throw-away-and-buy-it-again happy nation, it’s both refreshing and inspiring to see so many examples of making do on less and repairing rather than re-buying.

Mallet carved then fastened with a cutting from an old flip flop.

Mallet carved then fastened with a piece of an old flip flop.

Cement-mixing attachment for hand drill bent from rebar.

Cement-mixing attachment for hand drill, bent from rebar.

2. Family values – Not necessarily making lots of money for the family, nor buying lots of things for the family, nor keeping up with what would make the family look good, but sharing simple pleasures, celebrating even small things and prioritizing time together truly seem to be the foundation of this country.

Tulum restaurant perk

Most every establishment here is not only “family friendly” but family-accommodating, as was the case at this Tulum restaurant. Generally, when people see you coming with kids they are EXTRA welcoming.

3. The value of rest — On countless occasion I have come home to all three guys asleep in the shade. They do not jump up (except to open the gate for me), they do not act guilty for taking a mid-day siesta and they do not pretend to be working extra hard after being “caught.” They work their tails off, are good at what they do, take time for daily rest and do so without apology. How un-American. How very healthy.

siesta

4. Patience – Though the concept of “mañana,” (meaning sometime in the near or distant future) is notoriously obnoxious to efficiency-driven gringos (and admittedly maddening on occasion), I find the unhurried pace in general to be better for my health, easier for raising a family and conducive to a balanced lifestyle.

While much of the slow pace here is circumstantial, the vibe is a rather pleasant bi-product.

While much of the slow pace here is circumstantial (cars are expensive), the fact that half the town rides bikes or walks certainly adds to the easy-going vibe.

5. Presence — I’ve yet to meet a Mexican who fretted over tomorrow half as much as we do, and everywhere you look, you see folks perfectly content just being. The majority of people I know from the states feel guilty being still for very long, would more likely refer to “just being” as “doing nothing” and tend to associate downtime with laziness.

Whereas the majority of the tourists here head for the lounge chairs and piña coladas, most of the locals pack a picnic, pack their truck beds and beach it for pesos on the dollar.

Whereas the majority of the tourists here head for the lounge chairs and piña coladas, most of the locals pack a picnic, pack their truck beds and beach it for pesos on the dollar.

6. Culture beyond consumption — The richness of Mexican culture is still largely untouched by commercial influence (though this is changing) and is centered around family, tradition, community, food and folk art. Holidays are abundant and eclectic, bring communities together and are considered legitimate excuses for closing shop for days on end (as opposed to opening shop after hours to offer good sales).

Chamula

Chamula, Chiapas

toros de Tulum
7. Practical skills and trades – Whereas skilled labor in the US is decreasingly encouraged among young people and increasingly outsourced, mechanized or of course, done by skilled immigrants, the majority of people here know one or many practical trades. Whether tile work, carpentry, mechanics, embroidery, pottery, weaving or chicle harvesting, this is a country of craftsmen, artisans, farmers and laborers and it shows in the prevalence of handmade goods, local food and family-owned businesses.

Our nearly-finished porch. The guys extended the patio, poured the beams, hand-hewed the beams and laid the tile with precision and skill. I learned so much just watching the whole process.

Our nearly-finished porch. The guys extended the patio, mixed all the cement by hand, poured the concrete columns, carved the hardwood beams with a chain saw and laid the tile with precision and basic tools. Oh, and you wouldn’t believe how much of it was done with a machete.

plant vendor

8. Local living — Free of so many of the legalities that stand between US entrepreneurs and potential patrons or cliental, essentially anyone can set up shop and sell their goods here, making for rich local living, affordable products and services and street life that draws people together.

My favorite local mercado.

My favorite neighborhood mercado.

Our sugar cane juice stop on the way home from school.

Our sugarcane stop on the way home from school. The press is mounted to a VW bug, turned to squeeze juice from cane, then the delicious, nutritious sweetness is mixed with other fresh juices of our choice. (Cane/grapefruit/lime/mint is my personal favorite.) Can’t imagine this concept would fly in the states. Hardly steril, unregulated and unpasteurized, the risk of lawsuit would be too great. Is the protection we receive from such laws worth the sacrifice of local culture and small businesses?

What intrigues me most is that these characteristics are sought after in the US (what thoughtful person isn’t trying to live slower, be more present and resourceful, shop locally, support artisans and find more time for family?) and yet fear divides neighbors — both across the street and across the border — who might otherwise have much to offer one another.

Clearly, Mexico (just like every other country) isn’t without its challenges, immigration is a tricky matter from whichever side you stand and at the end of the day, haters will be haters, but at the very least, I’ll now sleep a little better having added a counter voice to the fear-mongers on Facebook and a flip side to the five o’clock news.

grandmother

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April 27, 2013
Categories: Feel Good Fridays

let something go

This month, I thought we’d keep it simple — no photos, no seedlings and no neighbors — just four small steps, a few minutes of your time and a willingness to go deeper. Ready?

Step 1: Let something go.

  • Maybe it’s a thought that drains you every time it creeps in,
  • Or a bitter fallacy candy-coated in truth.
  • Could be a story that embedded itself when you were too young or vulnerable to notice
  • Or someone who abuses the honor of your acquaintance.
  • Is it a car you can’t afford?
  • Or a loathing toward your thighs?
  • Or the pursuit of something your heart knows better than to follow?

The thought that just occurred to you first? It could have been volunteering.

Step 2: Write it down in the form of a commitment and put it somewhere (only) you will see everyday.

You could word it something like this:

“I let go of _______, because by holding on, my truest self is harder to reach.”

Step 3: Consecrate your commitment though a memorable, meaningful moment:  

  • Maybe you escape to the woods and offer it to the rain
  • Or make it into art and frame it.
  • Maybe you say it aloud before plunging into crystal blue waters,
  • Or sing it while dancing naked in your kitchen.

This step can be pretty powerful, serving as a ceremonial surrender, a pivotal moment to remember and a tangible reminder for when you’re feeling wayward. 

Step 4: Throughout the month, jot down thoughts that come up that threaten your commitment.

They usually show up looking something like this:

“But what if…”

“But they might…”

“But I should…”

“It’d be easier to…”

You know the type.

A month from now (May 23rd), I’ll call for four things:

  1. Your one-sentence commitment (and a description of your moment of consecration, if you like).
  2. A few thoughts that came up through the month that threatened to derail you.
  3. How you felt after giving a full month’s intention to the letting go.
  4. Your location (no names this time).

If you really want to dig deeper into this idea or let go of something BIG, I highly recommend following the powerful steps in Byron Katie’s gem, Loving What Is.

So, what do you think? Doable? Intimidating? Empowering? Worthwhile?

As always, your off-the-record participation is equally valuable, though sharing can be a great motivator, accountability takes intentions up a notch and you never know who you may inspire.

“You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.” 
― C. JoyBell C.

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April 25, 2013
Categories: Handmade Home

The Natural Family Lice Treatment Plan, from The Lice Maven, herself.

The first time our family had head lice, we had it bad. Inexperienced, in denial and in over my head with youngins, I unwittingly let them populate to the point of no return — or at least the two months it took us to conquer them sure felt like a life sentence.

When my then 9-year-old first complained of an itchy head, naturally I checked her scalp for crawling bugs. A few days later, when the itching worsened, we doused her head in dandruff shampoo. After another week or so of complaints and head checks, I had decided my kid was simply oversensitive and needed to toughen up.

Then one day at a backyard BBQ, she was so frantically scratching that I felt the need to clarify her bug-free status to the other mothers. “I don’t know why she’s so itchy, but she doesn’t have lice, I’ve checked a dozen times.” To emphasize the point, I proceeded to part her hair and check yet again. To my silent horror, I noticed dozens of what could only be shiny little eggs within inches of her scalp. Needless to say, we quickly had “other things to do,” made our brief exit, and I did what any horrified mother would do…I called my girlfriends.

Now, I have two kinds of girlfriends: those whom I call with descriptive announcements of contagious illness and infestation, and those whom I avoid completely until I am certain the issue has been thoroughly resolved. Fortunately, several of my friends in the first category had dealt with this before. Unfortunately, everyone’s advice was different.

Ultimately, it took us two months of toxic shampoos, mayonnaise, rubbing alcohol, gel-like pastes that harden into helmets, olive, coconut and essential oils, shower caps, threats of head shaving and dozens upon dozens of hours with a nit comb to conquer the little beasties.

Now that we live in the tropics, that first lice adventure seems like a walk in the park. Here, the lice are apparently a super fuerte mutant sub-species (I swear, they must have wings) and the fact that it’s always above 80 degrees (and usually above 100) creates the ideal breeding ground for the little piojos.

So, lucky for you, I am now an expert. In fact, you can just call me The Lice Maven if you like, ’cause hot damn, I’ve earned me the title.

My motivation for revealing our family’s “dirty” little secret is two-fold:

  • To help ensure that your own lice adventure is a much shorter story than ours.

  • To de-stigmatize lice from their reputation as an affliction of the filthy, because it’s simply not true. Here is perhaps my favorite photo I’ve ever taken, along with a quote by The Lice Maven, herself:

Natural Family Lice Treatment Plan - revolutionfromhome.com

Before I explain what has worked best for us, I must disclose that the expensive, toxic pesticide shampoos DID NOT. Apparently, lice have grown resistant to these poisons, which is cool by me ’cause I don’t know about you, but I’m not really into lathering my babies in pesticides.

A few points to emphasize first…

  • There are lice, and there are nits (lice eggs). Lice will be various sizes and colors of gold, gray and brown. Nits are shiny teardrop shaped, generally grey, hold on to the hair shaft when pulled and are usually found within a few inches of the scalp.

  • Not all nit combs are created equally. Nit Free has the best one I’ve found.

  • Nits are most easily seen in the sunlight (thus their discovery at my friend’s BBQ).

  • If you find evidence of lice, assume the whole family has it, clear a couple hours from your schedule every day for five days or so, and prepare to treat the whole pack. You will kick it much more quickly if you are serious from the start, trust me on this one.

The Natural Family Lice Treatment Plan

Natural Family Lice Treatment Plan - Revolution from Home

Day 1: Outfitted in old clothes and preferably outside, work olive or coconut oil through brushed hair, making sure to rub oil into the scalp. Sprinkle heads with tea tree oil, braid long hair, then cover with a plastic bag and secure with a rubber band for the day or overnight. This process suffocates the mature lice.

After 6-10 hours, remove shower cap and equipped with paper towels, comb through hair with nit comb, wiping oil, nits and lice on towel. Take your time on this step, as nits pull free easier when oily. Make sure to comb scalp.

Wash hair thoroughly.

Boil brushes and combs, change bed sheets and pillowcases. Put all hats in a plastic sack and store until the end of the week. Lice cannot live long without a host.

Day 2: Outside in good light, sit family members down one at a time. Break out the lollipops, professional clown or movie projector (meaning this could take a while). Using hair-ties to hold sections of clean, dry hair out of the way, search hair for nits in small sections, combing with clean nit comb first, then pulling stubborn nits free with your fingernails. Take your time with this process. Even one nit left is a potential adult louse.

Day 3: Wash pillowcases, boil brushes and combs. Give the kids a break.

Day 4: Repeat Day 2, checking for previously undiscovered nits. It should be much easier and quicker this time.

Day 5: Repeat Day 3

Celebrate and treat the kids for their cooperation and yourself for being so awesome.

It is imperative that you recheck for nits once a week for a month. If found, pick them out with fingernails and repeat Days 1 and 2.

And there you have it — you can now go forth lice, nit and chemical-free. If they’re anything like mine, your kids will now swear they smell head lice every time they get a whiff of tea tree oil.

Oh, and one last thing. Just a little…

natural lice treatment Love you, Taos.

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April 22, 2013

picnicing

The first month we moved here, some good friends passed through town and took the girls to a favorite cenote. Since then — for eight months now — every time we set out to explore another stretch of beach or freshwater swimming hole, we hear, “The beach cenote!! We have to go to the beach cenote!!” And though eager, ourselves, to visit this clearly-magical coupling of two natural wonders, their first trip had been by combi (VW bus-style public transportation), and the route changed slightly each time they tried to give us directions.

“Ummm, yeah, it’s totally north of town, like five or ten minutes.”

“No, wait, I’m pretty sure you hang a left at the main road. Oh that’s south? Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“There’s a sign past that one dirt road just before you get to that bright-colored building that’s falling apart. Yeah, turn there.”

“It’s really easy, just go right and then left and then go straight until you see the water!”

Needless to say, we’d never been — that is, until we heard some new friends describing one of their favorite cenotes, just a stone’s throw from the beach. We eagerly awaited the weekend and promptly packed a picnic.

The following photos start at the beach, pass through the swamps and end up in the cool, clear waters of the first semi-brackish cenote I’ve experienced. Just the slightest taste of salt in the water was a sweet reminder that the underground caves that feed this region’s 7,000+ cenotes also connect to the sea.

Our picnic spot offered both shade and fresh coconuts, the treasure hunting was endless and fruitful, and though the beach was too rough for swimming, a two-minute tunnel though a magnificent mess of mangrove took care of that.

our private beach

gathering

cenote on beach

beach rocks

coconut

drifted

endless treasures

iguana

mossy

hobit house

nodes

mangrove

arch

cenote

brackish cenote

Magical, indeed.

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