Kristy Maute

Love. Lots and Lots of Love.

A few days ago, I found this…this sweet little baby-faced photo of Cole.

My eyes filled up with tears. I made him come sit next to me on the couch. He reluctantly (or not) curled up on my lap, and I squeezed him. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to go back to that moment.

His hand acting as an airplane, I can hear him making the engine noises with his mouth. It’s taking off into air the same way our plane had just taken off and delivered us back to Virginia so we could load up in the car with my family for our annual trip to the Outer Banks. He loved to play airplane. He loved everything about flying.

His sippy cup sitting next to him on the beach chair was never far from his side. Every single time we got in the car, he made his request. Bear Bear. Other Bear Bear. Passy. Sippy Cup.

The red birth mark on his arm he happily named his Boo Boo is so visible. Today it is just a shadow on his arm. He loved his boo boo. He loved his boo boo so much he used a red marker to draw boo boos on his favorite stuffed cow chair.

I see these photos of my smiley three-year old Cole, and my heart smiles. But my heart also aches a little. Did I love him enough? Was I the mom he needed me to be when he was three? Did I take the time to really enjoy that stage of his life? I was newly divorced. I was growing up. I was figuring out who I was, what I valued, and what was important to me. Because of that sweet little face, I made the decision to leave a marriage. I knew I had to show him what real love looked like. I knew I needed to find a healthy relationship so he would grow up with a positive example of a real partnership.

When I gave birth to him, he taught me so much. He exposed everything vulnerable in my life. Although I am his mother, I can’t help but feel like he raised me during the first three years of his life. Every tough choice I made in my life, I made for him. He may never know that. But I hope when he looks back on his childhood, he remembers love. I hope he remembers growing up in a household (or two households) with two (really four) loving parents.

I know I can’t change things from those early years of his life (and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to). But I know that I can love him now the way he needs to me to love him. Isn’t that the point of parenting? I will always love him the very best I can at every stage of his life. And I will always hope I don’t screw it up too badly. And I’ll always strive to love him the way he needs to be loved instead of loving him the way I need to love him.

Five years from now who knows what will replace the airplanes, the bear bears, the other bear bears, the passy, and the sippy cup. Like the boo boo on his arm, the past eight years of his life will fade. The memories will be just another shadow on his arm or faint memory on his mind. I hope he loves those memories as much as he loved the boo boo on his arm. I hope he wants to recreate them in other aspects of his life. And I hope he remembers love. Lots and lots of love.

Because of him, my heart will always know how to love and how to receive love. Lots and lots of love. I hope I can teach him the same lesson.

Focus on your Next Turn

This weekend, I ran. I ran 14 miles. Although I have been here before, it feels like a life time ago – the lifetime that existed before my heart was broken by a stress fracture, and the lifetime that existed before my running days became slow and more of a waddle during pregnancy. It’s been less than two years since I’ve run 14 miles, but life has changed. A lot.

I ran 14 miles without my running partner. I ran 14 miles solo. I ran 14 miles on trails in our local state park. When I finished, I wanted to tell the stranger who was next to me what I had just accomplished, but she never made eye contact. I wanted to high-five someone. I wanted to hug someone. I just wanted someone to smile at me, but no one was around (besides the one lady who was avoiding eye contact). As I walked back to my car, emotion overwhelmed me. I stopped next to this tree to stretch and enjoy its shade. Tears started. Tears wouldn’t stop. I sat next to this tree, and I cried. I cried exhausted tears. I cried triumphant tears. I cried tears of pride and happiness.

61450_10151062242443240_1247453544_n — Tree Hugger? Tree Crier?

I’ve made it back. I’ve made it back to the place I left when my femur failed me. I’ve made it back to the place I was afraid I would lose during my pregnancy. I’m back adding miles and more miles. I’m back on my quest to run 26.2 miles.

The 14 miles didn’t come easy. At mile 8, I wanted to crawl back to my car. As I stopped to refill my water bottle, I reached out to my running partner and my husband. I needed a pep talk. I had six more miles to tackle (less than a 10k when I’m giving myself my own pep talk). My husband responded with words he knew I needed. Relax and Breathe and focus on your next turn. Enjoy yourself. My running partner responded with the reminder that I can do this.

Tears found me again. From mile 8 to 9, I silently cried more tears. The tears got lost with my sweat, but they were the release I needed. I can do this. I focused on the next trail marker. I had six more trail markers ahead of me – Long Creek passed Fox Run passed King Fischer detoured off onto Osprey back to Long Creek and final to 64th Street. I could handle each segment. With a few stops to regroup and to take a quick photo, I finished my run.

Mile 12 – Perfect excuse to stop and breathe

I’m back, and I feel better and stronger and more in awe of my body. I’m back with a new respect for what I’m about to tackle. While I left my quest for a marathon on terms I didn’t expect, I’ve learned. I’ve recovered. I’ve birthed a child (again). In those 11 hours of labor, I learned the power of my body. I learned to listen to my body. I learned to trust my body. I’m ready for this new journey to a full marathon. With gentleness and awareness, I’m ready to run.

The journey means so much more this time around.

Truth

On September 14th another set of goals came to an end without me noticing. I have not been a diligent student of setting goals (or better yet, tracking goals) since having Chet (although he is not to blame). I seem to be good at setting them, but I haven’t been following through. I haven’t been checking them off my list once I put them down on paper.

With my head held low (only for a second), I’m here to report that I did not do anything (most things) on my goal list except for run the rock n roll half marathon with a smile on my face.

As a reminder to myself (and to you), here was my last set of goals:

1. Take the time to sit down and write all the cards I’ve been meaning to mail – I need to share my appreciation of people with the people I appreciate instead of carrying it around inside of me.

I did one again. I got my mom a thank you card for taking care of both boys this summer and some of Trader Joe’s salt water taffy. I’m glad I did one, but I can do better.

2. Finalize the plans for our Family Mountain Trip. The Mountains are calling…

On hold due to Christian’s new job – I’m not driving 4 hours with a baby for a one night visit

3. Yoga! Spend as much time on my mat as I can – include Christian and include Cole.

It’s never enough. I always want more.

4. Host a vision board party. (I know Heidi and Jessica are in…any other takers?)

Sigh. No.

5. Further explore Pranayama Breathing (How is this not already a part of my life?)

Sigh. No.

6. Cole and Mama date

Sigh. No.

7. Stay flexible and open-minded as Christian starts his new job. (Did I mention he got a new job? again! This time he’s working with Craft Beers. He is a very happy man!) Remember longterm life goals for our family – This is where he is supposed to be!

YES! Almost. Mostly. It might have got bumpy, but we made it.

8. Run my race at the Rock n Roll half. Enjoy it. Smile.

YES!

And the big one………because this one makes me nervous and scared and happy and alive all at the same time

9. Start researching the process of becoming a doula.

Sigh. No.

New Image2 — Perhaps one of my favorite life photos: Black toes nails. Yoga Mat. Mala Beads.

So the truth is this…On paper I didn’t live up to my goal list. On paper I wouldn’t consider this one a win. But life isn’t lived on paper. Life isn’t lived by writing goals and following through. These are all on my goal list because the excite me. They make feel full of life. They make me nervous and happy and some of them push me out of my comfort zone. I may not have accomplished them in my 40 day time limit, but they are rooted inside of me. I will check these items of my life-list.

Over the course of our 13.1 miles on Saturday, Heidi announced that she had a confession to make: she hadn’t checked her goals off her list either.

What followed her confession was a long conversation over the course of a few miles about living life, finding contentment, and still striving for more and pushing beyond comfort. There has to be a balance. This conversation has followed me around all week? I’m someone who likes goals. I like pushing. I like experiencing new things. But I’m very happy with my place in life. If I’m always pushing for more, will I enjoy right now? How do you find contentment with life right now but still dream big?

Because life always works this way, as I was thinking these thoughts, I read this on Runninghood’s Facebook page:

There’s a definite ART in balancing life…an art in finding that perfect blend where we can embrace the “where we are right now” with the striving for “where we want to be”. I’d like to have a healthy dose of both of these things without losing sight of either one.

While I didn’t check majority of the things of my goal list, my lack of checks brought with them a oppurtunity to learn a valuable life lesson. Right now my life is about finding the art form of balancing life. I also want that perfect blend of embracing right now with striving for more. This is a new territory for me. I’m learning.

Next goal cycle will focus on this growth – this art form.

New Image — Sun setting on a evening run through my neighborhood

More than just a Run

As I drove home on Saturday morning, I felt a lightness inside of me. I had just ran an unofficial half marathon on the trails of our local state park. Thirteen days after barely hanging on in a long gruelling hot (and slow for me) half marathon, I ran 13.1 miles again for no other reason than I can. I set out that morning to run 12. As I approached mile 10, I felt like I could go on forever. I didn’t want my miles to end. My legs still felt fresh. My breathing was under control. I decided I’d run another 1.1 miles to run a half marathon on my own terms, for myself, and to grab hold of the feeling of accomplishment I knew I’d find when I found my own finish line.

My own half marathon carried me through rooty trails, up and down sand dunes, along a marsh, up and over wooden bridges, and had me completely submerged into the part of the world I love the most. In my 13.1 miles I got lost in a part of our planet that is protected, undeveloped, and safe.

It’s so much more than running.

Over the course of those miles, Heidi and I ran. We ran in silence. We ran in laughter. We ran in conversation. We talked about life, our boys (and her daughter), and hopes and dreams for the future. We discussed comfort. I’m comfortable in my life right now. It fits perfectly. While I dream about the future, I want to stay comfortable in today. I don’t feel the need to chase down dreams for the sake of chasing down a dream. I’m happy. Content.

That feeling of lightness I drove home with on Saturday carried over into Sunday. Sunday morning I was joined by all the boys in my life – husband, Cole, Chet and dog. We hiked the same trails (only less) that I ran the day before. Cole ran ahead of us. He ran up hills. He ran down hills. He awarded himself the polka dot jersey. Chet went for his debut ride is his baby backpack. Alex was so excited to be included in family fun.

As the weekend came to an end, I felt my roots reaching even further into my life. Rooting me deeper to family, to loving, to friendship, to nature and to living. Over the course of 13.1 miles, the busyness of life fade away and the things I love in life came into focus.

It’s so much more than running.

Celebrating Eight Months

Oh my Chetty! Where in the world has time gone? This month – 8 months – we have plowed ahead into the baby world with a lot more firsts checked of his list. He is now proudly smiling with almost 4 teeth. Two bottom. One full tooth up top and another so close. (just kidding – since starting this post a week ago, all 4 are now through). Out of his cute toothy mouth is coming so many wonderful baby babbles. He copies all the sounds we say. Hi-eeee is one of his favorites. Mamama, bababab, dadadeee are also among his favorites. He doesn’t call us mama or dada yet. I swear he calls the dog Ooofff (woof!).

Chet’s round bottom has also flattened out. He is sitting. Officially sitting. Sitting well enough for me to feel comfortable to walk away. On Monday he discovered the joys of the tupperware cabinet (I knew there was a reason I put this one down low). While I attempted to make soup, I let him explore. It was a success, and I managed to make a real family dinner while juggling both boys solo (Huge success for me. How did I survive as a single mom?).

Chet is all over the place. He isn’t crawling yet. His belly just won’t get off the floor – although yesterday I did see him raise to his knees and forearms for two quick rocks before he belly-flopped. Even without officially crawling, he is all over the house. He army crawls like he grew up going to bootcamp. He crawls up and over the dog. He crawls on top of the dog’s head. He wrestles the dog. He has crawled up and under our coffee table. He climbs up and over his brother. He’s pulling himself up on to his knees in front of his toy bin. If I blink, he is in another room.

I have to confess, I had a slight panic attack a few weeks ago when I weighed him at home. He wasn’t gaining weight. He wasn’t sitting yet. He wasn’t crawling yet. I got stuck in that ugly place of comparing him to other babies his age, and I got nervous. Knowing that he slowed down dramatically with his weight gain at his six month checkup, I called the doctor to see if little to no weight gain still was okay. We went in for a check up, and I left feeling reassured that our little guy is just fine. He is small but perfectly proportioned. He has now completely fall off the growth chart, but he’s healthy. He developing just fine. And I have since quit stressing.

Weight at just about 8 months: 14 lbs 8 oz. (about one pound more than his six month check up)

With my stress about Chet’s weight gain came my need to structure his eating. He used to get breakfast and dinner that consisted of real food. Every other feeding was breast milk. That has all been changed. His daily feedings now follow this pattern:

Wake up Nursing
Breakfast – Oatmeal + Fruit
Nursing/Bottle of Breastmilk
Nap
Lunch – Yogurt + another food of choice
Nursing/Bottle of Breastmilk
Nap
Dinner – Veggies + grain or starch or yogurt (sometimes fruit too)
Bedtime Nursing
Nursing ALL NIGHT LONG!

We’ve introduced him to all sorts of foods. I’m using Dr. Sears’ book The Organic Baby as my go-to reference, but I’m mostly just following Chet’s lead. We have ditched all pureed foods except for the fruits we put in his oatmeal. He completely lost interest in them. He is eating all finger foods now. We’ve added quinoa to his diet and I plan on introducing him to black beans tonight. Egg yolks are on the menu for this weekend. We’ve introduced him to raspberries, watermelon, and cantaloupe. Cauliflower has been introduced along with fresh beans from the farm. He introduced himself to a piece of wheat bread crust (i can no longer eat lunch while holding a baby on my hip) and cheese (no more snacking on string cheese with baby near by). We are sticking to a strictly organic diet for him and plan to keep his diet this way for as long as possible. I want him to eat the way we eat, and I really look forward to the next few months when he is eating dinner right alongside of us.

While all of the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, we are still lacking in the sleep department. 97% of the time I really don’t mind. I nurse him 2-4 times each night (mostly two times, but rough nights include all night long cluster feedings). I really feel connected and bonded to Chet in those late night hours even if I’m half asleep. And even if he is half asleep too, he always finds a smile to give me when I rescue him from his crib. Yes, I do have moments I really wish he would sleep (the night before I run a half marathon!). There are nights at 9pm when he is refusing to go to bed that I do everything I can to hang on to my sanity (days are long and start at 6am and don’t stop until after the boys are asleep, and even then I have things to do so 9pm baby bedtimes can push me over the edge). I do take comfort knowing he will become a great sleeper at some point in his baby/toddler journey. He won’t always want to nurse all night long. I’m embracing it (97% of the time) while I can because I know one day I will miss it. Sometimes I do wish he would c0-sleep, but he won’t. He loves his cribs. He loves night-time nursing. So this is our night-time story for this month. Who knows? Next month could be completely different.

And on a serious note………..I swear he gets even more cute every single day! Every day his little personality blossoms. He is becoming funny and comical and adventurous and life would be so boring (and sleep filled!) without him.