This is my Camino

There are days my mind drifts back to the sway of trees, cool mountain air, and floating coffee aromas of the Camino. I close my eyes and the path is before me, mounds of backpacks lumbering into the horizon barely formidable in the hues of the distance. Deep breaths for the day, the quiet rhythm of boots crossing a sandy path, and the Return. Always the return into the mysterious morning silence ushering in the morning fog with all its promises for the day. Hushed whispers cross the path, friendships form, stories exchanged. Water from a stranger, shade from a tree, snacks of olives and prunes from local food stands. The not knowing of where you will lay your head and the trust that you will always have a place. The top of a church enclave, the basement of Catholic mass, perhaps the attic of a local’s home will become a safe haven for the night.

In reality here I am with my whiney toddler, pregnancy hormones, and a floor that hasn’t been actually cleaned in weeks. The chaos of my day engulfs my thoughts with no sign of the unhurried time of the Camino anywhere. I was explained this my friend Jenny recently and she told me: Rebecca, this is your Camino. This is your Camino now, in real life, happening before your eyes. That night I was brushing my teeth and disappearing into the fantasyland of possibly having no children in the house someday and silence and all the time in the world to wash my hair, and in that moment I heard - that time will come, but this is the spiritual practice. The peas smushed into the floor, the cries of my child as he reaches up to be held, the laughter of showing him a world of adventures. This is the Camino.

It is common along the path to encounter pilgrims on their fifth, sixth, seventh Camino. We all carry a longing to return to the place of transformation. We think it is the place that has formed us, crowning it with a magic we expect to continually rediscover there. No doubt, the history and landscape of the Camino is spiritually charged in a way I have rarely encountered in other places. But we don’t live our lives along the Camino. The Camino is in fact the life we encounter after Spain. To bring the path here, to see each day within the mystery of opportunity is to find God along life’s Camino. The Camino lays the foundation, gives me a framework, and has allowed me to experience these days as part of the journey.

We need friends who have walked with us over years of time to remind us of these truths. To help us return to what we already know about ourselves. Thank you Jenny for being that for me; for seeing me and using this sacred experience to help me see Motherhood more clearly. There is nobody else like you. You have reminded me that this is my Camino and I will carry these words in my heart.

His little breathing when he falls asleep in the car and his answer with “yeah’s” to every question. 

The way he stomps his feet to go crunch, crunch, crunch in the leaves and runs to gives us open mouth kisses. 

Fascinated by every airplane that goes by and waving to every dog. 

Going up and down the playground with the proudest little closed mouth grin like he just accomplished something wonderful. 

He bounces his head up and down every time he hears music and could sit and listen forever. 

He has the sweetest, most sensitive spirit that I’m learning will someday be his strength. 

He is filled with joy that is contagious among strangers everywhere we go. 

His red hair is continuously a talking point and the subject of many interactions throughout our day. 

He doesn’t like to nap more than an hour a day, but it’s only because he has so much curiosity and excitement with life, combined with his daddy’s FOMO, which I know will ultimately lead him on extraordinary adventures. 

I love this child with a love so deep that he can cause my heart to burst with joy and simultaneously tear my heart in two at any given moment. (How does that work?!) 

My prayer is that he will grow to be courageous and strong, knowing God is with him wherever he goes (Joshua 1:9). 

This little boy is a world changer and we are so lucky to be entrusted to guide him as he grows. 

Partial Solutions

On Saturday, we headed north to Cardiff on an 84 degree day to watch the sunset behind the ocean as Ben caught some waves with a friend. Jack and I splashed in puddles on the sand and chased birds on the shore.

While hanging on the beach with my friend Raquel, we discussed the reality of being a Mom. Giving up freedoms, making sacrifices, constantly multi-tasking... the usual stuff. I asked her how she manages to work out at home with a three year old and a baby and she asked me - have you heard the term "partial solutions?" I have heard of this, in fact, but in this moment it struck me in a different way.

Our days are not perfectly smooth and we don't always accomplish what I had thought we would in that day. But I am learning to live into "partial solutions." Which is difficult for a perfectionist like me. So often I strive for the fully achieved goal (I'm even hesitant to post this blog, because I don't have time to comb back through it before Jack awakes from his nap...), but something is better than nothing.

Today, this is my partial solution. Writing here is better than not writing at all. Here I am, in full form, unedited, but it's better than nothing. Some days, that's all I can manage. And that's okay.

Japan, in brief

What we discovered in Japan is that extended travel as a parent is a completely different thing.

When we were dating, we took a 10 day road trip up the coast. Slept in our car, tent camped along the way, biked the 18 mile drive outside Santa Barbara. We stopped anywhere and everywhere that looked dreamy and magical. When we were Newlyweds, we flew off on a 17 day European Adventure. No responsibility, no care in the world. We eagerly woke up to explore cafes and walk 30k steps. We did as much as we could (including an unlimited gelato festival TWICE) and returned tired each night, yet ready for the next day.

Enter Japan where the mantra was please just let me be in bed as long as I want in the morning with a quiet cup of coffee and perhaps something to read.

We observed our pathetic get-out-of-the-door-around-noon selves, joking that we didn't need to go to Japan to make that happen.

But we DID go to Japan and what a dreamy country it is! We were drawn to it for the obvious reasons - sushi, Ramen, Hello Kitty - but walked away knowing it for all the not-so-obvious reasons. The culture is one that forever remains with me. Gracious, service-oriented, kind, quiet. Bows to strangers; the cleanest streets I have ever seen. The 7-11's where you can buy a full gourmet meal and mochi on the side. The Japanese Moms looking effortlessly chic in dresses and stockings toting two children on their bike and one on their back. Markets lined with fresh fish being served up on rice and rows of squid samples that we passed down. The train stations where people file in line and DO NOT CUT, as a social norm. Such a culture I have never seen before, nor do I expect to see again.

One of my favorite days involved renting bikes in Kyoto and exploring shrines and villages in the surrounding area. It was a perfect 75 degrees. We stopped for beers and meat buns. We had a full view of the mountains encapsulating this idyllic city. Wafts of noodles floated through our path as tiny streets appearing as alleyways gave way to bike lanes. Days of these kind don't come along too often and will remain one of the happiest memories of our lifetime.

There is also the kimonos, the onsen (spa) culture, the tea, the kaiseiki, the miso soup for breakfast, the high speed Shinkansen train, the fact that Ben was a full foot taller than most people... but those are memories harder to put into words and easier to experience in entirety when there.

Here's a few photos from our trip.

That Shrine Life. It's a thing. Tokyo, Day One.

Sashimi lunch bowls at a locals spot where we had to point to pictures to order.

Train Station food was some of our favorite! Gourmet, fresh, delicious. Also - the trains there are very fast.

My biker babe.

We discovered the joy of eating with a bib the last day. Didn't realize how much slurping noodles gets on your clothes!

And of course, all was made possible by Grandma Mickey who has an inseparable bond with our little Jack.

This morning started with Jack tears and ended with mine. Usually his moods don't effect me to the extent of joining him; but on this particular morning - a combination of jet lag, of pregnancy, of Ben leaving early, of Jack screaming and screaming and screaming - it got to me. I felt the exhaustion of being with him. And then spiraled into questions of - If I can barely handle him how can I handle two?! And then persisted to Google Parent-Day-Out programs and scrambled through an email to put Jack on a Wait List. And counted down how many years until he's in school or out of the house or I don't know - married?!

I didn't know what to do so I drove to the mall. I guess that's where I go to feel consoled (?!). Jack finally stopped crying, but I did not. When we arrived, I had to walk around for a bit because there was no way I was walking into Zara with a return with such embarrassingly puffy eyes.

Jack played and laughed by the fountain and I started laughing as well. I looked back on the hours of our morning as a seemingly distant memory. Although if someone asked me - How are you? I was surely to breakdown into a puddle before them.

There are moments like this as a mom. We don't have it all together all the time and can't be expected to. It is a hard season right now - learning how to navigate a new rhythm of my one year old refusing to nap and in turn being whiney and throwing tantrums when he doesn't get his way. Learning to find God throughout my day when all I can think about is wanting a nap. People say "These are the days!" and I don't fault them for it. But also - memory fails us (you). Yes, there are so many delightful moments with Jack when I wish nothing more but to be present with him in all his joy and curiosity with life. But there are also these kind of moments when the world feels like it's beating down on you causing ruin to everything you used to know and love in life which in turn seems to erase your identity itself.

God gave me a gift because for the first time in weeks Jack is napping - for over an hour. I have a second to pause. A moment to breathe. Perspective. Awe. Gratitude.

Yes we just returned from Japan. More on that to come.