to the mom with the screaming child at target

This afternoon I had to make a Target run for toilet paper and other essentials. As I was leaving I hit up the Starbucks to grab a much needed caffeine fix. In front of me was a beautiful mother with 2 children. One looked to be around 7 and the other was a baby. Before I continue I must note this woman's stoic bravery for stepping into this establishment with children. With baby on hip she reached down under her cart to retrieve her purse. I swear this was some crazy acrobatic move that you would only see at the circus. I was impressed. I ordered my coffee and moved out of the line to wait for my elixir. While we waited she received a phone call from someone who I can only assume was her husband. As she attempted to have an adult conversation with this man her children started acting up. I overheard her quickly say, "Nevermind, bye." She received her drink and I could hear her baby wailing off in the distance as they continued on with their day. The woman who was behind me in line looked at me and nervously laughed and said, "That was awkward wasn't it?" I smiled and said, "Oh not at all. I am a mom and I totally get it." I bid the woman farewell and as I left this mother stayed in my memory and on my heart all afternoon. I decided to write her (and all mamas really) a letter...

To the woman with the screaming child at Target,

You have been on my heart. I too am a mother and the last time I took my daughter into Target with me she smacked a stranger's ass. So I want you to know that I was encouraged by your presence this afternoon. I now know that I am not the only mom who walks into that store full of hope and leave feeling completely defeated. Sometimes as a mom I feel like people don't really see me. They see my unruly child and swiftly make judgements about my parenting choices. Of course that is only my perception. So I want you know that I see you. I see you dressed in your yoga pants and no make up and I want you to know that you are beautiful. I see you pick up your Venti Egg Nog frappuccino and I know from personal experience that you ordered that size because you have children that will undoubtedly ask for some and you will probably only enjoy 5 sips of it. I hear you on the phone with your husband and as quick as you answer you have to hang up. You are such a great wife for taking the call because you know your children are not the only humans that need you. I see you lovingly interact with your busy little girl while you quietly soothe your crying baby. You have the patience of Job. I watch as you hurry off all the while attempting not to make eye contact with another human so as not to see the look of judgement as you pass by. I want you to know that I have been where you are. I have made that walk of shame too many times to count. You need to know that I do not judge you. I am in awe of you. You taught me a valuable lesson today. You reminded me that we are all doing the best we can and we all need a kind face smiling back at us. Just maybe we will look into that individuals eyes and see our beautiful reflection mirrored back to us. You reminded me that as moms we are our worst critic. We need to stop that. We are raising children to be functioning humans in this world and that is no easy task. As I watched you with your babies I witnessed the pure grace and messiness that is motherhood. You also reminded me that there should never be any shame in being a mom and God forbid shame when our children (and they will) act like an untamed beast in public. Their breakdowns have nothing to do with how well we are parenting. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that their breakdowns are proof of our unconditional love for them. They know that no matter how poorly they act we will get frustrated, but their is no fit that could change the love we have for them. I also am frightened of children who never throw fits in public from time to time. That is just not normal. :) I end this letter thanking you. Thank you for reminding me of my humaness and that my struggles has a mom have no bearing on my capabilities. You are amazing and your children are so blessed that you are their mama. You are strong and brave. You are nurturing and patient. I saw myself in you today and what I saw was an extraordinary soul. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Our silent interaction today was anything, but awkward. It was enlightening and empowering. Just thought you needed to know that.

Signed,
A fellow mom who has been known to hide in the dressing room at Target

The power of grace.

 Allow me the space to speak candidly for a few moments. Today was not a calm day in the Lanphere home. The day started rough and continued to be one battle after another. It was a day where I simply wanted to pull the sheets up over my head and hide. I would love to tell you that I was able to extend grace and hold space for each soul that seemed to be on the enemy line. But I did not. I was irrational and angry. In fact, I wanted to be angry. I didn't want to rise above and see the lessons that my angels were clearly gifting me with. I dug my heals in the ground and stood firmly grounded in my misery. Today was a day where I allowed my ego to take charge and ever so brazenly scream "Fuck it". Fuck choosing love. Fuck being a conscious and awakened soul. Just fuck it all. Who wants to be some enlightened hippie cook-a-loo anyways. Yes, my ego was a special breed of bitch today.

Grace. It's a funny thing. The word alone invokes within me an emotion that I don't think I could ever eloquently express. Grace is powerful. Far more powerful than my Jekyll and Hyde complex. In the midst of my horrible, rotten day my angels still saw it fit to gift me with little gifts of grace. Which really are not little by any stretch of the imagination. My angels sent to me a lovely soul on Vine (a social media app that allows individuals to make 6 second videos) who in 6 seconds reminded me how beautiful I am simply because I am breathing. I wept. And then just a few short hours later my 18 year old sister called me to "check in" because she heard I was having a shitty day. I cried. Again. Or how could I forget the angel boy at the post office who flashed me his mega watt smile as he awkwardly fumbled down the sidewalk? As I type I see his face in my memory and the tears stream down my face. And just when I thought my angels had sent me enough grace I begrudginly took my daughter to her dance class where I laughed with other moms who have become my friends. And because I believe my angels have a sense of humor I left with a box of chocolate truffles that I completely forgot I purchased for a fundraiser. That's how grace works. It's always present, but I truly believe that on the days when my personal grace bank is closed  my angels send me these grace gifts to refill and replenish my soul. To remind me that choosing love is right. And that to become an awakened and enlightened soul I am gifted these days as a lesson. A lesson in grace. As I contemplate the events of my messy day I am reminded that I am a soul having a human experience and these days are to be celebrated. These are the days that my soul is doing its most important work. As I lay my head down tonight I will give thanks for the angels that were sent to me in human form and I will wake up tomorrow filled with the grace of God and have a go at the fresh start before me. Grace. It will change your life. You have to simply allow to crash into you. And when you do you will be forever changed.

Signed,
Your favorite cook-a-loo hippie (I wouldn't want it to be any other way)

8 things to do for yourself

Have you ever looked in the mirror and not recognized yourself? I have. Don't get me wrong. I know it's me when I look in the mirror. I guess what I am trying to say is that when I look at myself in the mirror I recognize myself as Peyton's mom, Jack's wife, step mom, daughter, friend, and sister. Those things are a part of me, but they are not who I am. As mom's I think we get so accumstomed to hearing everyone else's names for us that we forget who we were before someone started calling us "Mom" or "Babe". What did I do for fun? What did I do for myself? What inspired me? As moms it is so important that we care for ourselves first. There's a couple reasons why. First, how can we expect to care for our families when we continually put everyone else first? Eventually we will become frumpy, burnt out and bitchy. That doesn't serve us and it certainly doesn't serve our family. I am hear to tell you that it is ok and completely acceptable to love yourself ladies. I mean really love yourself. Secondly, every time we put ourselves first we are teaching our daughters about the importance of self care which will eventually aide in her finding a partner who will honor her by encouraging her to love herself. If you have young boys in your home you are educating them on how important the feminine spirit is and that it is to be loved and cherished. A couple years ago I made the decision to put myself first. It was the best decision I have ever made. I am going to share with you goddesses a list of things that I have made a personal spiritual practice. On the days that I want to run off with gypsies or take an Italian lovah these are the things that ground me. Obviously I am being silly about the gypsies and the gorgeous international man. :) What's life about if we can't be completely and recklessly funny, right? ;)   

1. Take baths. I love taking baths. Especially with bubbles and candles. Go all out! They have become a nightly ritual. And even on occasion I pour myself a glass of something that requires an ID when you purchase it. When I have had a day where I feel like running down the street screaming whilst removing all my clothes like a crazed woman I choose Scotch. And when I have had a day where everything goes smoothly and my daughter is the picture perfect child and I greet my husband (dressed and with my face on) I pour myself a smooth glass of red wine. :) If you are not comfortable drinking alcohol a cup of hot tea will do the trick also. There's something therapeutic about water. It seems to have the ability to wash away whatever is ailing me in that moment. 

2. Make time for your girls. I love getting together with my friends. They have become like sisters to me. We have a certain camaraderie. Maybe because we are all moms and wives or maybe it's simply because we are all doing the best we can navigating our way through this journey called life. Either way there is something so naturally healing about spending time with other women. We encourage one another. We support one another. We hold each other accountable and most importantly we are silly with one another. When we go out we dress up and make a big to do about our evening. We go from yoga pants by day to fashion divas by night. There is something powerful about a woman who feels sexy. And when you put all of those women in one room? Wowza. That's all I can say. :) 

3. Do something reckless with your man. We are moms. But first we are wives. Without these strong and masculine humans we wouldn't be mothers. Honor that. I know its a such a difficult thing to find balance with this. Trust me. I get it. We wear so many hats during the day and it can be a challenge to switch from the mom hat to the sweet and caring wife hat. Lets be real. Sometimes we just don't want to put that hat on. We are exhausted emotionally and physically most of the time. But rest assured when you do you will realize that this man wants you to fall into his arms and be vulnerable. He knows how hard you work and wants to be that soft place for you to run too. If your husband is like mine he is not very verbal with his praise and accolades, but when you feel the warmth of his arms around you will hear all those unspoken words. Recently my husband and I celebrated our 7th anniversary. We went to dinner and then we proceeded to a local tattoo parlor where I got my nose pierced. It was so fun! We also like to binge watch shows on Netflix. Whatever you do have fun! Be silly. Remember why you fell in love in the first place. It will be what drives you on the rough days. 

4. Run. I love running. I realize not everyone does. Find something that you love to do. Whether its yoga, hiking, pilates, weight lifting, walking, or swimming find something that makes you feel alive. Exercise has taught me to trust my body. It has taught me to put one put in front of the other. It has taught me how strong I am. It's a way that I connect to God. It's my therapy. I have found that no matter how hard I pound the pavement is very forgiving. Listen to your heart and where it guides you when it comes to exercise. It won't steer you wrong.

5. Make affirmations. This is something that has become very near and dear to my heart. Get an index card and whatever you choose to write make sure that they are always affirming. Whatever your dreams for yourself are write the affirmation in such a way that states that you are coming from your dream and not going to it. For example if you want to be a more healthy individual you would write something like "I am so happy and grateful that I am healthy" or "I am health". "I AM" are the two most powerful words in the English language so we must be ever so careful what we attach to them. Make these words your mantras. Repeat them daily. Morning and night. You will be amazed at how a few words can turn your whole day around. You will go from stating, "Please don't let my kill these children" or "Please don't let me bury my husband in the back yard" to "I am love. I am patient." It's amazing what the power of positive thinking can do for your soul.

6. Throw a fit. Sometimes a bitch fit is a complete and utter necessity. If you have to cry, do it. And if one of these episodes just so happens to occur in the presence of your children do not feel guilty. If I can stress one thing it is this. It is so healthy that our children see that we are not perfect. Life can be stressful and our children see that we have the strength to be real and the courage to continue on. I believe that perfection is an epidemic in our society. It serves no one whatsoever. As women we need to stop striving for perfection and start striving to be real and honest with where we are at. Life can be hard. Life can be messy. And even in the midst of all of it life is still so beautiful. Our children will thrive on our authenticity. Most importantly be gentle on yourself. Someone once said, "Behind every great kid is a mom who thinks she is screwing them up." I don't recall who said that, but it really resonates with me. I hope it does for you too.

7. Be grateful. This is something that as I type I know this is my biggest struggle. I am guilty of playing the role of a victim a lot. Before your feet hit the ground in the morning make a mental list of 5 things that you are grateful for. Whether its the fact that you slept through the whole night without having to go pee or that you have steel cut oats waiting for you in the fridge it doesn't matter. I have learned that gratitude is the key to unlock the door for all of our dreams to be manifested. It makes space for abundance to come crashing into your life. Life is happening for us not to us. At some point in your day take a moment to check in with your soul and make another list. End your day this way too. Miracles happen when you do this. I promise.

8. Dream. This is the last thing that I will share with you. I love being a wife and I love being a mom. But it is not all I want to do with my life. I did not go to college. One of my dreams is to go back to college and get my degree. I would like to be a sex and relationship therapist. We are not just moms. We are women. We all have dreams. Imagine who you want to be outside of your children. It is ok do that. It is not selfish. Have drive. Dream big. Find out what inspires you and work on making that dream a reality.

I hope this list made you laugh and most of all I hope it stirred your soul. I hope that you realize how incredible life is and how amazing you are. Take a moment and put your hand on you heart. You feel that? You are worthy. You are Divine. Being a mom and a wife can be a challenge at times and most of the time it is completely rewarding. It teaches us how strong we are. It teaches us to rely on others. Put yourself first ladies. You deserve it. And so does your family. You are incredible. Don't you ever forget that. Sending you all so much love.

xo,
M

The day my father died....

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               
Growing up I never imagined a life without both my mother and father in it. As a young child I imagined how my life would be. I would get married, have children and enjoy family dinners and holidays with my children's grandparents. I imagined what my parents would be like as "Grandma" and "Grandpa". So when my father died at the age of 52 it threw a wrench in my well thought out plan. I was 21 years of age and had only been married 5 short months. How could this happen? I had envisioned the future for so long and now I was trading family gatherings for a gathering of some sort with a funeral coordinator.

My dad died on a chilly day in October. Halloween to be exact. I was picking my step children up from football practice when I received the phone call that no 21 year old bride would ever expect to get. The man on the other side of the phone informed me that my father was in critical condition at St. Bernadine's hospital. I started to cry thinking how this could be happening when I was supposed to be taking my children to a harvest festival for Halloween. I pleaded with the man to give me more information. He simply told me that was the only information that he could offer and that I needed to get to the hospital immediatley. I swiftly made arrangements for the boys and proceeded to the hospital with my husband. When we arrived the receptionist led me down a white hallway that seemed to go on for miles. When we got to the end of the hallway she proceeded to lead us into a "special" waiting room for families. Growing up with a mother who worked with terminally ill children I knew what this room represented. I refused to enter. To this day I do not know how my sweet husband persuaded me to walk in. But there I found myself sitting in a cold room on an incredibly hard chair wondering if my father was alive. The doctor and his team arrived a few minutes later. Truth be told it felt like hours. He sat down and just looked at me. He was silent for a minute and I thought that considering how long he was taking to speak and the amount of people he brought with him maybe he was mute. So I asked, "Is he alive or not?" He then replied, "No Mrs. Lanphere. We did everything we could, but we could not save your father. He suffered a massive myocardial infarction." Considering my deep commitment to the television show "ER" I knew that was the medical term for a heart attack. In that moment I was hoping I was dreaming and I would wake up with a vague memory of George Clooney in a white coat wandering through a television set. But it was not a dream. It was a nightmare. A nightmare that I never imagined could be a reality. I didn't even get to say goodbye. How was I going to tell my 17 year old sister. How was I going to tell my mother, who although she was not with my father, had nearly spent 25 years with this man  and that she would never see him again. I was paralyzed. Eventually I was able to move. Only by a supernatural force. My husband took me home and the next month was spent going through a lifetime of memories and mounds of paperwork. As I laid my father to rest I buried my soul.

My experience over the months that followed my father's death is personal and I have shared it with few people. Growing up my mother did the very best that she could with the rescources she was given. We lived in a home that if we were sad we were put on medication.  Antidepressants were all she knew and she didnt want to see me in pain. I can't fault her for that. I had never truly navigated through a negative experience without the aide of a substance. I was not fully aware of the journey that I was about to embark on, but I knew that I wanted to truly feel it. I told my husband of my plans and that at some point I would come to him and beg him to take me to the doctor and get a prescription. I informed him that no matter how desperate I was he was to not let that happen.

My first panic attack happened while I was watching American Idol. I thought I was dying. I could hear the contestants trail off in the distance as I quite literally crawled up the stairs to our bedroom. I couldn't breath. It felt like ice was coarsing through my veins and the walls around me were closing in. Jack followed me upstairs and met me with a cool rag. He placed it on my forehead and helped me find my center. Once calm I fell asleep to have it all start over the next morning and weeks after that. I went from being a happy and carefree spirit to one who lived in constant fear of dying. I was afraid to drive and I was deathly afraid to be alone. My husband became my chauffer and whenever he left the house I went with him. This went on for months. It was hard on my husband and yet he never left my side. I became isolated and depressed. I didn't want to live. The pain and anguish was unbearable. This was no way to live. Who was going to save me from this horrible pit that I was in?

As I surrendered to the idea that I was going to live the rest of my life in between anxiety attacks something happened. I became pregnant. We weren't even trying. I was then struck with even more panic. I was in no way ready to bring a child into the hell that I was living. As I let this news of new life sink in I realized I had 2 choices. I could continue to let fear control my life or I could pull myself up by my bootstraps and work through my shit. It wasn't just about me anymore. I chose to work through my shit. For my husband, for my unborn child and for myself. My baby was just the inspiration that I needed to find myself again. She was the motivating force, but I had to do the work. I had to be the one to save myself. No one could do that for me, but me. I woke up early one morning to take my dog out. As I looked up at the sunrise I realized something extraordinary had happened. The sun had returned. As I felt the warmth of the morning I felt hopeful. I felt alive for the first time in months. I had learned something invaluable through my despair. I learned to just be. I learned to just feel. Really feel. I learned to let the grief wash over me like rain. I still had rough days, but when those days came I knew that I would be okay. My feelings were what saved me. They taught me how strong I am. They taught me to let others in and help me. I started to face my fears one by one. I realized that being alone was not something to be afraid of. In learning to be alone I found my soul. I became friends with my soul. My soul was my biggest fan.

It will be 7 years that my dad made his exit from this world and looking back over these years I can see how clearly Divine my experience was and that I had a host of angels guiding me through it all. I have learned more about faith in these years. Faith in God, faith in my angels and most importantly faith in myself. My dad is not gone. His soul is very much alive and I believe him to be my most special angel who guides me and protects me. I give great thanks for this experience. It was through my father's death that I was born. Truly born to live the life that I was meant to live. Which, in my opinion, far exceeds any vision I could have ever imagined for myself. I love you Dad.

xo,
M

This is how I will remember my Dad. Carefree and laughing. :)

The Toothless Pilot

Growing up I was painfully shy. Besides being bashful I was afraid of everything. I was the little girl hiding behind my mother's legs. I declined so many childhood adventures because of my fear. To give you some insight into my trepidations I will share with you one experience in my childhood where I let fear take the drivers seat. My parents decided to get me involved in a tap class. I suppose they thought that it would boost my confidence. I cried the entire way there. Every week. I pleaded with my mother to stay at the studio. Truth be told the only way she could get me so stay was to be in the studio. I still ended up quitting. As I got older my fears seemed to subside a little and I was able to coach myself through them. They were always there though. In fact they were audible. I desired to be brave. I wanted to be able to go to sleepovers with my friends and not let my fear cripple me. I wanted to be adventurous. Each time I thought that I could the voice in my head told me to be cautious. I might hurt myself, I might get laughed at, I might fail, or I might not be good enough.

So it was only natural that a firecracker soul chose me to be her mommy. I am firm believer that our souls make sacred contracts with one another. Who can say why certain souls cross our paths and what they are there to teach us. I do know that without a shadow of a doubt my daughter was sent me to help me heal. To heal the parts of myself that I allowed the voices of conditioning to convince me that life was something to be feared. Fear is not in her vocabulary. At the age of 5 she has mastered the art of throwing caution to the wind. This afternoon I watched as my husband strapped her into a helicopter seat. I traced the smile on her face as he placed the head phones on her ears. I looked into her eyes and saw the simplistic joy of living in the moment. As I watched them take off she looked over at me with a grin from ear to ear and waved at me. Tears started to well up in my eyes as I watched them fade into the distance. I could not even fathom doing that at her age and here she was, my toothless daughter begging to fly with her daddy. And then I realized in that moment that it happened again. Her bravery allowed me the space to walk through another fear. The fear of losing my child. I was completely out of control. I wanted to tell her no that she could not go or that I had to accompany her. I knew that if I allowed my fear to control the events of today it might have single handedly altered the way she viewed life. That she was not safe. That she couldn't trust her daddy or her angels. As I viewed the ship circle the airport I felt a shift inside my soul. I felt confident! I felt ecstatic for her to be given that opportunity. I felt empowered. I felt safe and Divinely protected.

When they landed I gazed at my firecracker barreling down the runway toward me. I greeted her sweaty body with open arms and I looked at her and said, "D!!! I am so proud of you. You inspire me and I want to be just like you!" She looked at me and said, "Can I go again???" Her zest for life and desire to learn is something I give great thanks for and aspire to emulate. Sometimes I feel like she is the parent and I am the child. I suppose thats what parenting is all about. Bringing to light the things that needs healing in us. Teaching us how strong and brave we really are. Educating us on the joys of living in the moment. And most importantly trusting that life is happening FOR us and not to us. I am forever grateful to my toothless angel for helping me find my wings so I could fly.

xo,
M

B is for Blended. Blended family that is.

When you marry someone who has children from a previous marriage there are a few things one can expect. You can expect an inquisition of sorts. You can expect that everything you do from that moment on is being documented by all parties involved. You can anticipate and accept that every decision you make involves and affects everyone.  You can anticipate the first time one of your step sons walks in on you after you have showered and the mental scarring that just occurred and the steps you will take to remedy the incident. You can expect that the first baseball game you attend may be awkward as your step children's mother is sitting in the stands. You await the first time you and your step daughter go shopping together and people think you are sisters. Then there will be the first meal you cook your new family. Do they like it? Is it how their mom cooks it for them? There were a lot of things that I anticipated when I became Jack's wife and the step mother to his amazing children.

I knew his children liked me and that they would possibly grow to love me as a member of their family. What I never anticipated was the capacity to which these humans could love me. They accepted me. They introduced me as their parent with pride. Typing those words elicits emotions in me that the English language cannot express. They have taught me the power of unconditional love. They instructed me how to be a parent. They illuminated to me a side of my husband that I had never seen before I married him and I loved what I saw. These children have opened my eyes to the beautiful reality that my heart is full of love to give.

Being the wife of a man who previously had the heart of another woman was daunting and something that I held great respect for. He had another life and family before me and that was something to be honored. I had high hopes for my relationship with this woman. I wanted her to know that I respected her place in this world. Effortless would not be the word that I would use to describe the first few years of our relationship. Truth be told I anticipated this. I expected quick glances and cordial hellos until the 18th birthday of my youngest step son. What I never expected was that we would be sitting across from each other at the same table on this day while she lovingly caressed my daughter's back. The unimaginable happened. I had become friends with the woman who held my husband's heart for 11 years. Somewhere between baseball games and birthday parties we became a family. 

As a woman married to a man who had previously been in love with another woman I had to come to the sobering realization that this man needed to continue to have a relationship with her for the well being of his children. This was not an easy task. She also had to let go of the role she had once played in his life. These events had to happen in order for the 3 of us to parent the beautiful children they raised together. We had to learn to respect one another and without even consciously knowing it the 3 of us became a team. A team of adults with a seemingly sorted history co-parenting. Who would have thought? Thats what happens when love happens. It opens the door for forgiveness and acceptance to come waltzing through. Jack and Cheryl are amazing parents and it is because of their respect for one another that any of this was even possible. I am so thankful for their love. Without that love I would never have met the amazing people I call my children. Being apart of a blended family has not always been easy. But it surely has been rewarding. Hurt and resentment has been replaced with unconditional love and wonderful memories. I give great thanks for my little family and the insurmountable joy they bring me. If you are struggling finding your place in a blended family take faith. Each trying moment is an opportunity to choose love. When you do this miracles happen. You just may find a friend in a completely unexpected way.

xo,
M

My husband doesn't want to have sex with me?!

Before my husband and I got married we dutifully read quite a few books on marriage. A friend introduced us to Gary Chapman's "The Four Seasons of Marriage". The author eloquently depicts our experience in marriage as ever changing like the seasons. I recall reading this book and thinking, "Oh, my husband and I will NEVER go through winter in our marriage! We love each other too much!" How so innocently naive I was.

I remember the first time my husband did not want to have sex with me. It was though someone had punched me in the stomach leaving me breathless. The rejection I felt in that moment was palpable. I could not understand why my husband, who had just vowed his life to me shy of one and half years ago did not want to ravish my body in that moment? I conceded, rolled over in bed and figured tomorrow was a new day. That one night turned into weeks. I became frantic. The voice of insecurity in my head was deafening. "What's wrong with you???" My heart knew that this was the beginning of a very cold and harsh winter. Over the next few months my husband and I became very cold with one another. Our words, that once uplifted and encouraged one another became tools to tear one another down. I did not know this man. I did not like this man. These thoughts frightened me. How could I feel this way about a man that I chose to spend the rest of my life with? Would I raise our children in a home with someone who I viewed as a roommate? I felt utterly hopeless.

My heart began to harden toward this man who I loved. As much as I loved him I hated him. I began to pray fervently. In this time of quiet reflection I realized that while I was listening to the bitter voices in my head I wasn't listening to my husband. He was struggling. It had nothing to do with me. He had just lost his mother and he desperately needed me. He needed me to give him space. And in that space he needed me to hold him there. Hold him in love. He needed grace. In that instant I had two choices. I could continue on the destructive path of resentment or I could choose to simply love him. In that moment I chose love. I chose to have faith knowing that spring followed winter. What followed this decision was nothing short of a miracle. When I viewed him through love's eyes I was able to see my husband again for the first time in months. I saw that I could diffuse an argument by simply wrapping my arms around him and telling him that I loved him. I saw that this man was strong and resilient. I saw this man for who and what he was and I loved him. Over the next few months I wholeheartedly went out of my way to make him feel loved. He did not respond at first. And yet I continued. I made the choice to actively love him until he had no choice, but to surrender. And he did.  I woke up one morning and I could feel the warmth of spring. There was nothing left to do, but to bask in the heat of love. And we did. We had found each other again and I was more in love with this man than I had ever been.

We have been through a lot in the 7 years we have been married. I am here to tell you that what has bloomed and matured after those hard winters is something I will forever be grateful for. I am most grateful for our first winter. Our experience was triggered by the loss of a loved one. For each individual it is so beautifully different. It taught me to have faith. I learned to ride the icy peaks right into the fields of wildflowers. When love and faith are the cornerstone for your marriage nothing is permanent. The ebbs and flows are normal. They are to be celebrated. For with each winter spring must and will follow.  Spring is the most fragrant season and each time it comes around it is sweeter than the last.

xo,
M

Meet my daughter. The 5 year old life coach.

I have always said that my daughter is my teacher. Every time I think I have settled into this fact she says something that completely shakes me to my core. Take for example the other evening. Every Friday we go to our favorite restaurant to get sushi. As I took a bite of my spicy tuna roll she, with the wisdom of a 90 year old woman looked at me and said, "Mom don't you feel bad for the fish?" I about choked on the aquatic creature in my mouth. I had no response for this enlightened soul. My 5 year old left me dumbfounded. This is an all to familiar occurrence. Along with her innate ability to cause me to question years of being a self proclaimed carnivore she educates me on the power of being present. She reminds me that there is magic to be found in all things.

This evening as I my oven (had to give my oven a shoutout) was cooking our dinner she asked me to come play with her. As she was cooking for me I observed her every move. Every facial expression. Each sound. As I watched her I couldn't help but feel gratitude. Gratitude for this soul that chose me to guide her through this life. As I gazed at this tiny human I felt tears stream down my face. Tears of complete bliss and so thankful for the moment I was spending with her. What I was even more grateful for was the ability to let go of all the things that I felt that I "should" be doing and just be. She taught me this invaluable lesson. As a mom, wife, and  business owner I often times find myself getting caught up in all the things that require my attention. At times 24 hours just doesn't seem like enough time. And then I walk past my daughters room and I hear her squeal with laughter and I am humbly reminded to stop taking myself so serious and to just play. Every time I do stop to play, whether I'm dancing like a fool in my kitchen or exercising my vocal cords to become the next big thing in opera I am rejuvenated. I am given a sense of renewed energy to continue on with my day. It reminds me that I am human and that I do not need to strive for perfection, but to aim to be the best version of myself: perfectly imperfect. My daughter is the quintessential example of a soul living in the NOW. I give great thanks for this child. She is going to change the world. She has already changed mine in ways that words simply cannot express. I have many titles. Mandy, Mrs. Lanphere, friend, sister, daughter. "Mommy" is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most empowering name of all. Along with that word comes a life time of lessons. My daughter is my teacher and her world is my classroom.

xo,
M

Penne Alla Vodka recipe

I love cooking. I have found solice in the kitchen. I know that if I have had a rough day I can turn on Patsy Cline, poor myself a glass of wine and start chopping. Although before I continue I must tell you that I have not always found the kitchen to be a safe haven. When I first met my mother of the heart I could not make an egg or toast. We also won't talk about the time I almost set her house on fire with bacon grease. I digress. Cooking has a way of bringing people together with a common goal: to be fed. When friends and family gather at my table I desire that they are fed in a way that food cannot fulfill.

I'm so excited to share with you the recipes that I feed my family. Some of them are mine and some of them are from my favorite chefs. The following recipe is from a November/December (2006) Cook's Illustrated issue. I love Cook's Illustrated because they work very hard to fine tune classic recipes. My family loves this pasta dish. Without further adieu, let me to introduce you to this luxurious dish informally named "The Vodka Sauce" in my home.

Penne Alla Vodka*
Serves 4

So that the sauce and pasta finish cooking at the same time, drop the pasta into boiling water just after adding the vodka to the sauce. If possible, use premium vodka; inexpensive brands will taste harsh in the sauce. Pepper vodka imparts a pleasant flavor and can be substituted for plain.

1 (28 oz) can whole tomatoes, drained, liquid reserved
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 small onion, minced (about 1/4 cup)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 teaspoons)
1/4-1/2 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
Table salt
1/3 cup vodka
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 pound penne pasta
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh basil leaves
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese, for serving

1. Purée half of tomatoes in food processor until smooth. Dice remaining tomatoes into 1/2 inch pieces, discarding cores. Combine puréed and diced tomatoes in liquid measuring cup (you should have about 1 and 2/3 cups). Add reserved liquid to equal 2 cups.

2. Heat oil in large saucepan over medium heat until shimmering. Add onion and tomato paste and cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are light golden around edges, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and pepper flakes; cook stirring constantly, until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

3. Stir in tomatoes and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Remove pan from heat and add vodka. Return pan to medium-high heat and simmer briskly until alcohol flavor is cooked off, 8 to 10 minutes; stir frequently and lower heat to medium if simmering becomes to vigorous. Stir in cream and cook until hot, about 1 minute.

4. Meanwhile, bring 4 quarts water to boil in large Dutch oven over high heat. Add 1 tablespoon salt and pasta. Cook until just shy of al dente, then drain pasta, reserving 1/4 cup cooking water, and transfer pasta back to Dutch oven. Add sauce to pasta and toss over medium heat until pasta absorbs some of sauce, 1 to 2 minutes, adding reserved cooking water if sauce is too thick. Stir in basil and adjust seasoning with salt. Divide among pasta bowls and serve immediately, passing Parmesan separately.


*This recipe I just shared was taken directly from the Nov/Dec Cook's Illustrated issue. It is not my
recipe. It's important to me that credit is given where credit is due. :)

I personally use brown rice pasta. I notice that it doesn't make any difference when preparing. I also have used both inexpensive and higher quality vodka. I was shocked when I actually could tell a difference in the final outcome. If you can, purchase a higher quality vodka. Of course it is totally a personal preference. :) I use Grey Goose. I also almost always double the recipe. My 5 year old loves this for lunch the next day. And of course it's always 10 times better because the ingredients marry up brilliantly. I hope you have a go at this recipe and if you do I am fairly confident your children will ask for seconds and your husband just may offer to do the dishes. :) I do ask one thing of you. While consuming this extremely decadent meal I ask that you each go around the table to say something you are grateful for. A family tradition started by my father of the heart BB.

I give great thanks to Cook's Illustrated for inspiring me to wander outside my comfort zone and try cooking new food. I also give great thanks to my Marmy for not giving up on teaching me how to cook even when I almost torched her kitchen. Fun fact about Mandy: She does not and will EVER cook bacon in the oven (or broiler) again. Like ever.

xo,
M

My daughter wants to be just like me?!

A while back, my then 3 year old, ran up to me, cusp her little hands around my face and said, "I want to be just like you! Only YOU!" I smiled and told her I loved her and on the inside I was resisting an incredible urge to scream. Why? I asked myself that same question. Why would the thought of my daughter wanting to emulate me scare the living shit out of me? The answer is simple and yet so very complex. I know I am a good mother. I feed her, bathe her, read her stories, and make sure she looks both ways when we cross the street. Then why the fear?

Over the last couple of years I have trudged through so many family patterns and sifted through so many limiting beliefs. Those lovely treasures deserve their own blog entry. :) One of the things I learned through this cleansing period was that, as souls having a human experience, we function out of two emotions. Love and fear. When we are bubbling over with joy we are functioning out of love. And when we are snapping at that crazy driver on the road we are coming from a space of fear. At any given moment we have the choice to transmute that fear to love. I realized that my insecurities as a mother came from my fear of inadequacy and unworthiness. These voices of conditioning had me believing that I was an awful and cranky mama and that I was unworthy of a life free from this fear. I didn't believe that I was a woman worthy of imitation.  I had chosen to believe this bullshit for far to long. And that's precisely what it was: a choice. I chose to believe it! I then had a thought. If I was able to choose to believe the negative why couldn't I just choose to believe the truth of my nature?

Over the next few months I aggressively and wholeheartedly woke up each day choosing to step into my beautiful and graceful worthiness. I began with affirmations. Some days were more of a challenge than others. On those days, you know, the days where I wanted to run off with gypsies? Those are the days I repeated my affirmations through clenched teeth. Those are the mornings that I counted my steps as my put one foot in front of the other. Those are the nights that ended with a shot of Scotch and a vow to start over tomorrow. These are the days I look back on and come to the sobering realization that on those days my soul was doing its work. I give great thanks for these days. It was those days that brought me home to my truth. That I AM worthy. I AM a wonderful, cranky, loving, crazy, silly, over the top mother. I am a perfect example for my daughter. Because I'm perfect? Hell to the no! Because I am not. She sees my gypsy days and sees that mommy can feel rotten, but that I use tools to bring myself back to center. She sees my mistakes and knows that I am not perfect. She sees that I am a soul having a human experience. She sees that life isn't always peachy keen, but to cherish these days. They are the days that make the sun so much brighter and that of course the sun always comes back out. By watching me she is learning to relish in her own glorious worthiness. My daughter is my teacher and I will forever be grateful.

xo,
M

I have a blog....I think...

I have been contemplating starting a blog for sometime now. I'm not the most blog savvy gal around so you will have to bare with me. Writing has always been an outlet for me. It has been an arena for me to work through so many different emotions. I consider myself to be a shameless individual and thought what better way for me to connect with other women than through words. So I hope that you will follow me in this journey we call motherhood. Along with my favorite recipes I will share my fears, my hopes, my dreams and my heart. Someone once said, "When you show up authentic, you create the space for others to do the same. Walk in your truth." That is my hope. I hope to encourage just one person to walk in their truth. Whatever that may be.

xo,
M