In an effort to consolidate the gazillion thoughts in my brain I’m going to try and put all of my blog posts in one place from here forward… so check out the latest from KangaRubyMama tonight as well as some posts on other topics which hopefully you’ll also enjoy in the future. If you’ve subscribed here at KangaRubyMama and would like to continue receiving the mama blog posts, you can sign up for them on my main site as well. As always, thank you for reading and thank you for all of your support.

No matter how old I get or how long I’ve been out of school, I always want to go out and buy new notebooks at this time of year. I guess it’s just ingrained in my blood after so many years of schooling. It’s an idea we all want to hold on to – the end of summer means something if it means the beginning of something else. In a few years, I’ll actually be buying notebooks for a reason again as I prepare my daughter for school. But for right now, I’m content with filling my fresh (useless) notebooks with thoughts of apple picking and pumpkin carving as I try to use yet another change of season as the impetus for trying to be more productive.

The urge to produce results runs rampant in mama’s just like it does in Fortune 500 CEO’s. But no matter how many “results” are produced (whether working or SAHM-ing or WAHM-ing or whatever other mother-ing), there always seems to be this nagging echo of “enough-ness” when it comes to mamahood. For example, here’s a random note I received from my friend a couple weeks ago as she prepared for her daughter’s entry into kindergarten:

“The letter from my daughter’s school says, “it’s important that at least one parent attend the orientation meeting.” Amazing how one little sentence can induce a whole range of emotions. Most of the time I don’t think about being the only parent in my daughter’s life. It seems natural, it feels okay…most of the time. And I am constantly grateful for the support of family and friends, but I know, ultimately, the responsibility for the support and well-being of this miraculous little girl is all on me. This is not a complaint; this is a huge THANK YOU to the universe. Yes, I am constantly terrified of not being enough for her. But at the end of the day, I have her in my arms. I have her smiles, her laughs, her tears. Am I enough? I don’t know. But the love she’s brought into my life is more than enough…it’s everything.”

Single parent, double parent, birth parent, adoptive parent, foster parent, what have you – I think we all wonder at some point, “Am I enough?” So am I about to give you some definite, life-affirming answer on whether or not we are, for all of our productivity, “enough?” No.

But I will invite you to join me in embrace the enough-ness that is all around at this time of year. See it in the trees preparing for slumber as children make their way to the bus stop. Feel it in the cool breeze that slowly chills the summer air and makes way for the holidays ahead. Embrace it in the spirit of change that falls on the earth like a mosaic of leaves. Renew yourself with the season and know that, indeed, is enough. And if all else fails, remember… a fresh start is only a new notebook away.

BONUS READING: And for those who truly do need to get a little more productive this fall season, I have some “suggested reading” for you. Don’t worry, there won’t be a report due afterwards…

I recently read The Art of Stress Free Productivity. It’s precisely the type of book I like to avoid, but this one really hit home – especially with his “mind like water” philosophy. I’ve just begun implementing some of his suggestions, just in time for my quasi “back to school” routine and so far, so good. It’s the emptiest my mind has ever been as a mama or otherwise. And it feels so awesome.

***Special thanks to Anne Lacey for sharing her thoughts with the world on this one.***

Though right across from all the goodies that New York City has to offer, the Jersey City/Hoboken area is surprisingly unfulfilling when it comes to stores catering to the eco-mama experience. A PATH train and quick subway ride can take you to Metro Minis on the upper East side or to Caribou Baby in Brooklyn. But on the days that a Jersey Mama just wants to take a walk in her own neighborhood to check out some new eco-friendly toys or indulge in a beautiful new wrap carrier, she’s pretty much out of luck…. so imagine my surprise as I was strolling through ArtsFest at Grove Street Plaza with KangaRuby last Friday and came across this fabulous woman:

Nia M Reid-Allen is the owner of Myrtle & Flossie, a new maternity and baby goods retailer based in Jersey City, NJ

Offering everything from carriers and cool maternity clothes (i.e. maternity clothes for women who want to look like themselves, not a float in the Macy’s parade while they’re pregnant) to all natural baby cream that smells even better than baby powder and – get this – sexy nursing bras, Myrtle & Flossie is homegrown in Jersey City!

It was as if the light from Mama heaven shone down on Grove Street Plaza that day. Although they don’t have a brick and mortar storefront yet, Myrtle & Flossie “pop-up” stores are being hosted all around town. And, you can buy directly from the website. So those of you who may not be lucky enough to live in the best city on the eastern seaboard (yeah, I said it – lol) can also join in on the fun.

Now, here’s where the “Mama Shout Out” part of all this comes in. The owner of Myrtle & Flossie, Nia M Reid-Allen, is doing all of this as the brand new mama of a 3-month-old! (Her and beautiful babe are featured on the homepage of the retail website… incredible). Inspired by her own experiences with boring maternity clothes, Nia decided to do something about it - enter Myrtle & Flossie.

I don’t remember exactly what I was doing when KangaRuby was only 3 months old, but I can guarantee you it was nothing as rock-star-ish as starting my own retail store. But, inspired by Nia’s mama gumption, I think I’ll get to work on finally finishing my book this weekend. Or, maybe, I’ll just track down her latest pop-up store and go shopping.

Is there a local mama haven in your hometown that you love or a rock star mama that needs some shoutin’ out? Let me know!

When times get crazy, we get by with a little (and sometimes a whole lotta) help from our friends. It’s one of the cool things about womanhood. But yesterday I was reminded that the help doesn’t have to stop with those we know – helping out a stranger can be a blessed experience, too.

Example: Yesterday while blissfully clacking away on my laptop in the quiet backyard of my favorite little café, a Mama walked in with her Girl (probably about 3 or 4 years old). Mama looked like me – glowin’ and a little frazzled, trying damn hard to look cool placing her order while her child tugged at her arm. *I feel you girl* I wanted to whisper in her ear, but chose to stay seated in an effort to not come across as a total whacko. (Obviously, I am).

Cut to about 10 minutes later. Mama and Girl have joined me and some other patrons in the backyard. Mama sits tepidly on the edge of her seat, watching every move the child is making, trying to get her to keep her voice down as to not bother the other patrons. *Girlfriend, that’s nothing – if you only knew how much louder it was at my house* I wanted to say, but refrained as to not appear nosy. (Again, obviously, I am).

10 more minutes later and it’s time for Mama and Girl to gather their things and go. However, their departure is delayed by the fact that Girl has corralled a lovely collection of the rocks from the backyard garden display. And she is pretty intent on not giving them up for a damn thing. “Alright we’re gonna go, now put the rocks back,” instructs Mama. Girl holds rocks tight. “These are the café rocks. We can go somewhere else where we can get rocks you can keep,” promises Mama. Girl doesn’t budge. “Come on now, we’ve gotta go. Put the rocks down.” Cue crying.

In a backyard with a group of business-y looking males, the Mama Fluster is palpable. I can tell she’s feeling pressured to keep the rock cryin’ train a-moving. I can’t restrain myself anymore. I turn around and wave at Girl with a smile, then begin to regale her with stories of the park just down the block which has awesome rocks, perfect for collecting. Even more beautiful and colorful than the plain white rocks of the café backyard.

Girl is intrigued, but maintains her stance. Mama stands by carefully trying to make out if I’m a friendly ally or an anti-mama enemy trying to shoo her daughter out quicker. *My daughter loves to collect rocks too.* I add and can audibly hear Mama breathe a sigh of relief. She gives me the “kids are friggin’ crazy right?!” look as her daughter tosses all but one rock back into the garden.

Mama joins in on my storytelling as I encourage the girl to leave the rock on my table, where I will watch it until she gets back. Then suddenly it hits me. Although my only intention was to help in a way I hope someone would help me in the same situation, what if Mama is actually pissed that I interfered? On my mission to give another Mama a helping hand, did I overstep some sort of mama boundary?

Girl walks over to my table cautiously, places the final rock on my table and quietly gives me her name (information I was to keep, should anyone inquire about the rock). Peacefully and happily, both Mama and Girl head towards the door. But right before they step through the threshold, Mama looks back and raises both thumbs at me. *Thank you* she mouths.

Mission accomplished.

***Note to mystery Mama, should you stumble across this blog: You rock!

I’ve been a bad, bad mama blogger. No, I haven’t been locked in a room reading 50 Shades of Grey (although according to the media apparently every other mama out there is doing so and loving it). But I have been just as naughty. Over two weeks have passed since my last blog post. Not that I haven’t had anything to talk about (I actually have various topics scattered on pieces of paper everywhere, much like the rest of the mess all over my house). But instead of retreating to one of those posts, I thought it would be better to first address this little cyber lull because I feel like it’s symptomatic of something that happens to all of us during motherhood – even if you’re not blogging for all to see.

Here’s how it goes: You wake up one morning with the best intentions to do something and by the time you’re shoving some semblance of a lunchtime meal down your throat at 3:30 that “something” is long forgotten. But later that evening as you’re running down your mental to-do list (the lullaby which lulls you to sleep every night), there that something is again. “Oh crap, I forgot to…” Wake up the next morning, rinse, and repeat. Before you know it, weeks have passed and that “something” has snowballed into an Abominable Mama Hatin’ Snowman of “How the Hell Am I Ever Gonna Get Back on Track?”

I’ll admit, I wasn’t really all that organized and on top of things pre-kid, but with only “me” to worry about in those days it was a whole lot easier to clean up my messes whenever I was ready. But when you add a) kids b) husbands, wives, life partners, etc. and/or c) years of experiences and choices to ponder, picking up where you left off isn’t always so easy. Subtract the friends in your life who you used to count on for a drink and a debrief everyday (because they are now lost in their own piles too), and it’s damn near impossible. Every day brings with it a fresh load of everyone else’s issues along with your own and if you’re not careful about taking out the trash, it can pile up quicker than you can imagine.

I’ve been in that pile for the past three weeks. And apparently it is so deep that I couldn’t find my computer for 15 minutes. No that’s a lie, I found it. But instead of getting about my business, I opted to waste time checking out other people’s problems via their Facebook status and trying to figure out how to use Pinterest and Instagram. But I’m here to say that it’s possible to get back to business, no matter how big your pile is or how many stalkable “Friends” you have on the Facebook. First of all, throw out that old, marked up, half-done and tattered to-do list. Start fresh with a new one and keep it simple. Commit to tackling things piece by piece, project by project, one manageable thing by one manageable thing.

Then, calm down. There’s no prize at the end of this life for having had the most harried existence. There is no reward for carrying the burden of the things you could’ve/would’ve/should’ve done. No one is really keeping score on your so-called failures except you. It’s all about the journey, as they say, and in order to journey you’ve gotta have a clear vision of the road ahead. Take some time to pray, meditate, or even simply take a walk around the block. Get back in touch with what is really important in this life and that will prepare you to take care of the little things as well.

So if, as you’re reading this blog, you find yourself staring at your own pile (real or metaphorical) of shit that needs to be done/fixed/written/ordered/bought/discarded/found/erased/whatever, take heed. Then maybe go take a walk. Trust me, there’s nothing that interesting going on in the Facebook world anyway. And, you’ll be happy to know, Pinterest is super easy to use – now does anyone know how I can use it to make a to-do list?

I think I might be going through a mid-mama crisis. It’s quite like the mid-life crisis portrayed by gray-haired foxes in the movies, minus the desire for a hot young blonde. Actually, maybe that’s not completely true. Just last week I found myself stealing glances at other toddlers on the playground and fantasizing about mommyhood with one of those blissful little children who don’t seem to make so much as a peep when their mom removes them from the swing. I think one of them might have been blonde. They were definitely hot and sweaty.

Anyway, in addition to my lust for quiet, I find myself daydreaming of high-priced umbrella strollers to replace my (perfectly functioning and also high-priced) conventional. I need something sportier I guess. But the most recent chunk o’ crisis is my hankering for a solo-vacation. I travelled aplenty before becoming a mom. In fact, that was the plan. Get a lot of living in so that I don’t look back and wonder “what if…” Problem is, despite how many if’s I’ve already what-ed in my time, I still have more that bubble up. And lately, it happens more often than not.

Like this morning, when I came across this kickass blog about overnight backpacking trips in New Zealand. I’ve hiked through Costa Rica, stood on the Mount of Olives, swam in the Mediterranean Sea, and sang beneath the (freezing cold) “cascades” in the Ivory Coast. But here I am, 10 a.m. on a Monday morning in a too-hip-for-me-café lamenting the fact that I never took a backpacking trip through the outback. And wondering how I could coordinate a trip to New Zealand. Alone.

Actually, I yearn for a trip anywhere alone. New Zealand, New Jersey, whatever works. I long for the days when I could walk into a café and stay there the entire day with nary a thought to distract me from the work at hand unless I wanted it to – Browsing trashy websites? Yes please! Wondering how to potty train a toddler on the go? No thanks. The problem is, even when I’m alone I’ve still got the “mama” program running. It’s like a dysfunctional app that drains all of the battery out of your smartphone, constantly running in the background even when you’re not using it.

Then I found another blog, this one from a mama that (two years ago according to the date on the blog) also went through a mid-mama crisis. I literally let out a sigh of relief as I read her post. “YES!” I wanted to scream, but I figured that might be a bit much for the hipster sitting next to me on his awesome 10-inch Macbook air (mid-mama crisis lust isn’t just confined to strollers… a new laptop would be hella nice too).

The mama, “Calamity Jane,” says: “What I need to know is this. How do we strike the balance between putting our kiddos first, setting aside our selfish desires for Me-ness, but not becoming the bitchy martyr mama? Or worse, the empty black hole mama who has nothing left of her own to offer up anymore? This is where I am stuck. I truly do not understand how to navigate this.”

Neither do I! I shouted silently at the screen. And I’m beginning to wonder, who among us does? (If you are her, can you please contact me ASAP.)

“The things that I had wanted my life purposed towards are peripheral at best,” she continues. “I don’t want to be the kind of mama who is always trying to get away from my babies, who resents them for standing between me and The Things I Wanted To Do.”

Preach, sister, preach.

It’s a scary realization to wake up one morning and see that all of the things your life used to center around are have been pushed aside. And at the same time feel this undying devotion to another little human being. Selflessness and selfishness collide in motherhood like nowhere else in life. A friend once told me that no matter what a mother does after the birth of her child (i.e. raises them, gives them up for adoption, leaves them behind) – she is always a mother. No matter how small they may appear, the scars of motherhood are forever on her body and her soul.

In her post, “Calamity Jane” proceeds to give a recipe for homemade playdough (which I am totally making this week, thank you). Just a little something that can make a difference, she says, by letting your child take on some control in a safe environment instead of throwing a control tantrum elsewhere. Awesome. And it made me realize, I need to get some mama playdough. I need to dig the hands of my soul into something squishy and feel in charge of myself again. The world is never going to be the same, I know. I may have given birth to my child, but there are still two people in this body – pre-mama and mama. But just like playdough, if you work two colors together long enough, they will become one.

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There are people out there drowning in pain. We are so busy in our own pools, we often forget what real sadness, real tragedy looks like.

It’s a blessing to be able to hold a child in your arms.
It’s a blessing to chase a toddler around the house.
It’s a blessing to have family to fight with.

I read another mother’s blog this weekend that reminded me: You’ve been given the gift of life, your child has been given a strong, healthy body, and you are surrounded by people who love you enough to want the best for you – even if you have different ideas of what is best. So today, I pass on that reminder to you. And to all mothers (and all “everyones” really) who are struggling with difficult situations in their life right now, keep the faith. George Michael and Bon Jovi may have said it first, but I will say it again: you gotta have faith, keep the faith. We cannot lose our faith. But why? Why is faith so important? And can faith really do much of anything when our back’s up against the wall?

Faith is what drives us. Faith is what makes moving forward in life possible, through all of the impossible situations. Hope for things not seen. Belief in things you can’t describe.
Faith is the anti-drug to desperation.
Faith is what will guide us home, to the peace in our hearts.
Faith is what allows a grieving mother to wake up in the morning and face another day. Faith is what drives a grieving child to succeed in life. Faith is what keeps family close when reality seems so far away.
Faith keeps us near to God. And God keeps us near to sanity.
Faith is the only thing that keeps us safe when the world is falling apart.

So, have some. Take a lot, take a little. Scatter it around your life like sprinkles on a hot fudge sundae. Have faith. And when everything else melts around you, keep it.