Viva L'Esperienza! by Liimu

OMG, I am on my way to Italy! As a birthday present to me this year, my mother agreed to come up to Philadelphia from her home in North Carolina to watch the kids with my stepfather. My husband and I are about to enjoy TEN DAYS in Italy without the kids.

And I miss them already. (Imagine the sheepish grin on my face.) I know they feel the same way, because yesterday, as we sat enjoying airport sushi, my phone rang and it was my 7 year old daughter. I could barely understand her words through her sobbing, but I was able to glean that she was missing us already. She said every time she thought about the race (we ran the Race for the Cure together on Mother’s Day), she saw my face. I told her I felt the same way.

“Close your eyes,” I said. “Are they closed?”

“Yes.” (sob, sniff)

“Imagine I am hugging you tight, can you feel it?”

Silence, and then, “Yes.”

“Now imagine I’m nuzzling my face into your neck, now imagine I’m tickling you so you’ll stop crying!” She laughed a little bit.

She’ll be okay. I know she will. My mom raised me and my five siblings, and we’re all doing reasonably well. We’re all still alive, anyway. Kidding – we’re all doing very well.. And my sister and her 11 year old daughter have also promised to pitch in where they can.

The amazing thing about this vacation is not just that we are on our own for the first time in years. (The contrast between our airport check in experience yesterday and the one from last Christmas is uncanny. Think smart carte piled high with suitcases, strollers and knufflebunny. Think all five of us assigned seats in different parts of the plane, not even two together, thanks to the fact that we were flying at the height of the holiday season.) Yesterday, we were checked in and at the gate in about 20 minutes, no lie. But even more amazing than that is the fact that we are free from worrying about our children’s safety, thanks to the kindness and generosity of our family, who love them almost as much as we do and will definitely keep them safe. And thanks to that, we are free to really enjoy all that Italy has to offer.

Viva ‘L'Esperienza! Live the experience!!

My Mother's Day - by Liimu

Mother’s Day used to be all about cards and flowers, my biggest complaint being that I wished I could get a day to myself for a change, away from the kids, away from responsibility. That all changed for me last year, along with my whole perspective on what Mother’s Day means to me, when a teeny bug invaded our lives and turned our whole world upside down.

I remember distinctly all the things I was consumed with last year - running the Broad Street Run (three minutes faster than this year’s time, I feel obliged to add). I was on top of the world, complaining about nothing, except how slow business had been lately. Okay, that’s a bit of an understatement. I was consumed with losing weight and gaining business, only slightly distracted by the fact that my six-year old daughter couldn’t seem to shake a mysterious fever. Pages and pages of my journals from that time period show how completely out of whack my priorities were:

May 4, 2009

Amelia still has a fever today. We’re going to the doctor in an hour. Hopefully he can figure out what the problem is. This has gone on for a long time. I feel things shifting with regard to work. Finally! Yesterday was the Broad Street Run. I rocked it! I ran it in an hour and 45 minutes. A 10:35 pace. Amazing!

May 5, 2009

I am in tune with myself today. Slowing down and creating space in my schedule. I will not freak out about all I have to be. I will do what I can. Amelia is still home sick today. If I can just get to the gym, maybe get my nails done, I’ll be happy. Will I be in the 150s this week? Will I see it? I really hope so. I need to just breathe into my life. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed and unsure.

May 7, 2009

I can do this. I can bring this company back to life. I know I can. I’m going to get back track and start writing again, start working out again, start MOVING again. We’re taking Amelia to the ER today to get some tests done. She’s on day 7 of fever. God, please let her be OK. Please let her be OK. Heal her, Lord. My little angel. Don’t let anything happen to her, please, Lord. Everything else just isn’t that important right now. All I care about is her healing.

We were told by our family doctor (during the third visit in less than a month) that if the fever didn’t break by the end of day 7, we should take her to the hospital. She woke up on day 7 with not only fever, but a rash over most of her body, swollen trunk and limbs, lethargic and extremely irritable. That is when the nightmare began.

When we got to Abington Hospital (what I now feel is one of the best hospitals in the country), the ER doctor on call said she believed what she was looking at was a case of the very rare Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever . She recommended we put Amelia on an extremely severe course of the antibiotic, Doxycycline. The potential side effect of the drug was that her teeth might be permanently tinted gray. That sounded sort of harsh to me, and I told her so. “What’s the risk if we don’t treat with the antibiotics?” “If this is Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever,” she told us gravely, “Amelia could very well die.”

The doctor then recommended Amelia be rushed directly down to CHOP. Soon after we got there, the infection spread to Amelia’s spine, rendering her paralyzed, and then to her brain, so that she no longer remembered how to sip from a straw or who her parents were. For nearly a week, we sat next to her bed and asked each other how this had happened. How had we gotten to this point? How were we now looking at our beautiful child, facing doctors who were telling us that she may never walk again, that she may suffer permanent brain damage, that she may suffer a stroke any minute that would kill her? My husband and I spent those days in tears as family members flew in from all over the country to do what they could to help, to do anything they could to get her to come out of it.

I remember so clearly one day sitting next to her bed and my husband asked, yet again, what we had done to deserve this and I had a moment of epiphany and I said, “I don’t know what brought us to this place. But I know that from this moment forward, I’m going to do everything I can with my attitude and my thinking and my prayers to bring us out it. And so from this moment on, I don’t want to hear anything about how did we get to this point. From this moment on, I don’t want to hear anything about the possibility of what horrible things that could happen to her from this point on. All I want to do is focus on our daughter getting well, and the image of her sitting up in that hospital bed, watching SpongeBob Squarepants and playing Uno cards. That’s all I want to think about, that’s all I want to hear about, that’s all I want to focus on. Period.”

Soon after, I asked me husband to go home to get some much needed rest, and to let me spend some time alone with our daughter. That night, at 10 pm, I scooched my chair up next to her bed to settle in to read her a story, as if we were home in her room filled with pink and purple flowers, instead of in a sterile hospital room. I asked my tiny daughter which story she wanted me to read: Winnie the Pooh or KnuffleBunny? To my shock and amazement, I heard a tiny voice in response say, “KnuffleBunny.” That voice was the sweetest sound I had maybe ever heard, and one I thought I might never hear again. I started to cry, and I started to text everyone: “She said ‘KnuffleBunny!’ She said ‘KnuffleBunny!’” And of course, I read her the book, and by the next day, she was sitting up in that bed playing Uno cards and watching SpongeBob. The doctors were dumbfounded at how quickly she was improving – exponentially, they said. They questioned whether the charts were accurate, because the patient they were observing was so vastly improved over the one described in her chart by the doctor who had visited her just hours earlier.

Today, my Amelia’s biggest concern is that she has not yet mastered a headstand. I spent last Mother’s Day in the hospital by her side. This Mother’s Day, I will spend with all three of my children, enjoying the Race for the Cure in the morning, playing outside in the afternoon, and then leaving them in the capable hands of my own mother as I go off to spend ten days in Italy with my husband in celebration of my upcoming 40th birthday. I am so grateful and blessed for this life that I have, and I know that my connection to my Higher Power and my ability to stay positive in the midst of the most horrific trials and tribulations, are in large part why I have the life I have today. So this Mother’s Day, I will hug my children a little bit tighter, and thank them for being here, for they are what I am celebrating on that day, not me. What I celebrate this Mother’s Day is my children – their beauty, their joy, their growth and their successes, and perhaps most of all, their ability to help me see what’s really important.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

What I Collect - by Liimu

Some people collect corkscrews. Others collect stamps or coins. I collect experiences.

Other people look at someone water skiing or running a marathon and say, “Why would anyone want to do that?” And I say, “Why not?”

When my husband and I went to Jamaica for our honeymoon, we were told that the Rick’s Café in Ocho Rios boasted a view of one of the most beautiful sunsets in the world. The first thing I noticed, when we disembarked from our commuter boat from Negril to Ocho Rios was the people leaping off the infamous cliff outside Rick’s Café. I knew as soon as I saw those bodies leaping off the thirty-plus foot cliff that I wanted to do it, too. My husband of just a couple days rolled his eyes; he was already far too familiar with my thirst for excitement. Landing feet first was much harder than it sounded. I ended up with a huge bruise that took up my entire thigh. Worth it, though, I felt. I had yet another experience to add to my collection.

When I began running, I fully intended to run no more than a 10K. During that 10K, I connected and became friends with another woman. We began to run together, trained for Broad Street, and after running it decided we would run a marathon. In my mind, it was another experience to add to my collection. I didn’t care how hard it was, I was determined to do it.

Now, older and wiser, I try to make sure the experiences I collect aren’t life-threatening or even too physically taxing. With three young children and me rapidly approaching my 40th birthday (on May 22), I now have to think about more than just my own gratification. I have to make sure I have the energy and wherewithal to be not just a mom to them, but a present and engaged mom who actually has the energy to enjoy hanging out with them, helping them with their homework, pushing them on the swing, laughing at their jokes. And I now realize that many of the experiences I’m collecting are experiences I’m sharing with them.

Every March, the girls are off school for a week for Spring break. This year, I decided to plan a road trip. No boys, just me and the girls (and our teenage babysitter). We had SO much fun. I didn’t work, I didn’t obsess about working out, I didn’t even plan out our days from sunup to sundown. I let them call the shots and we had a great time. Here’s a picture of my three-year old trying beef jerky for the first time ever.

During this trip, my two youngest daughters swam for the first time (with water wings) all the way across the pool. They touched baby alligators, fed a bearded dragon and sat on a petrified alligator. We took a boat ride alongside real live dolphins as pelicans flew overhead. My older two daughters even got to drive the boat. .

These are the experiences I collect now. When I was a teenager and young adult, the experiences were all about partying, acting crazy – jumping to floor level at the Grateful Dead/Bob Dylan concert. Over the past few years, I have had personal experiences beyond my wildest dreams – diving off the cliff at Rick’s Café, running across the finish line of the Philadelphia Marathon, singing a solo live on NBC for 10 million fans while Patti Labelle directed from just 20 feet away.

Perhaps even more precious than these experiences are the ones I have shared with my children, petting alligators in South Carolina, hiking the mountains of Denver, watching my 7-year old win a hula hoop contest in Florida, driving down Christmas Tree Lane in California, and the hundreds of experiences we’ve shared right here in our home. I’m grateful I don’t need a cabinet in which to store all these amazing experiences. I would have long ago run out of room.

Hare Today, Here Tomorrow - by Liimu

It is such a beautiful and sunny day and I’m so grateful to have the life that I have today, especially when I think about how far I’ve come. Sometimes, though, I have to be conscious of where I’m going, and how fast I’m trying to get there. Like the tortoise and the hare, I can often be so focused on going, going, going, that I burn myself out and then end up missing the entire point of the journey.

I have a friend who I have known for many, many years. She and I have traveled along together in the journey of becoming our best selves, including losing weight. In fact, I met her online on eDiets, and over the course of time as we became friends, we began to see each other in person and then she moved to live 5 min from me. She saw me gain 90 pounds with my first baby and lose 70 of it in the first 7 months. She saw me quickly get pregnant with my 2nd child, less than 9 months after the birth of my first, and then lose the 45 pounds I gained in less than a year. She has essentially seen me work my ass off, literally. But what she has also seen are three things: She has seen me workout diligently 5-6 days a week since she has known me. She has seen me workout at that pace, regardless of how heavy I am; in 2008, I ran a half marathon tipping the scales at 196 pounds (I am 5’5”). She has also seen that no matter how hard I try, if I am not paying attention to what I eat, I can’t make any forward progress and that often if I work too hard, I burn out and then eat everything in sight, essentially undoing any progress I may have made.

What I have seen in her, if nothing else, is unerring consistency. Initially, she consistently was unable to make any forward progress. Last May, she joined me on a program that I absolutely believe is one of the top fitness programs available today, an online nutrition and fitness program called Dreambodies. Where other programs that touted the benefits of counting points, using meal replacement shakes, or getting in-person counseling and pre-packaged meals had failed us, Dreambodies seemed to have the perfect formula for success. When my friend saw that I had blasted out of the gate yet again and lost 30 pounds, she finally acquiesced and signed up herself. She saw immediate results, and now, a year later is within just a couple pounds of her goal. I still weigh the exact same amount that I did the day she signed up. With her unerring consistency and dogged persistence, she has surpassed my success and gotten even further along the journey, just like the tortoise passed the hare sleeping at the base of the oak tree sabotaged by his overeager start (and overconfident arrogance). I am learning from my friend what it means to be consistent, and the value of patient persistence.

Until yesterday, I was focused on and frustrated by my lack of ability, instead of being motivated and inspired by my friend’s unique constancy and how it has served her. Finally, in these last couple of days, I have noticed my energy and shifted it to a positive mindset and I have realized that if I can learn from her example and exhibit the same consistency, faith, positivity and courage (and keep track of what goes in my mouth), I will break through the barrier of self and have the same wonderful success she is now enjoying.

Yes, this week I’m thinking about the tortoise and the hare and how sometimes the world looks at the hares of the world and celebrates their slick, fast moves – Nicole Richie lose the baby weight in 6 weeks! Kim Kardashian loses 5 lbs in 5 days to get back at her ex! And maybe I’ve been the hare in this whole thing up till now, and it’s done nothing to get me where I’m going. Hare today, here tomorrow, as if I’m the one sleeping at the base of that old oak tree. But I’m awake now and ready to hop alongside that tortoise at a nice, even pace. So, big shout outs to the tortoises of the world. Thanks for reminding us that slow and steady wins the race!

Who I'm Not -- by Liimu

I’m not God. I can’t possibly control all that happens in my world, and I’ve long since given up trying. I’ve known many women and marriages that have broken down over a woman’s futile attempts at maintaining control and some unattainable level of perfection at all times and in all areas. I know a woman who spent her entire career working to be the top dog in her field, until she realized that no amount of money could repair the damage caused by neglecting her husband and kids for nearly twenty years. I know another woman who spent fifteen years spending all her energy trying to be the perfect mom, then woke up one day to find her children about to leave the nest and a man laying next to her in bed she hardly recognized.

I am crazy busy. Anyone who knows me knows that. Bless Robin for including me in this website knowing that fact, but I guess it’s because she also knows that I try very hard not to make commitments unless I fully intend to keep them. If asked where my first priority lies, they might be surprised to know that it’s not actually to my children. It’s to God, and finding ways to best serve Him, and following that, to myself. Because what I have learned is that if I neglect myself or my spiritual life, I am really no good to my children and husband. I’m cranky, irritable, ungrateful, self-centered and just downright yucky to be around. My husband said to me once when I was in one of these moods, “You need to do whatever you need to do to get re-centered. When you’re miserable, everyone in this family is miserable.”

So, I no longer try to be all things to all people. I start with getting connected to God and to being me, the best me I can be, and everything I do is to support one of those two goals. I usually start the day by running or going to the gym for a good workout. (When people ask me how I have time to run, I explain that I multitask. When I’m asked to go out for coffee or drinks, I always ask if we can get together to run instead. That way, I’m combining catching up with a good friend with my never-ending quest for health and fitness. My spiritual tank ends up twice as full!) Today, I ran three miles with a friend at 6 am, and was feeling pretty good about things. I worked for a few hours, and got some excellent feedback on my performance so I was feeling really jazzed. Then at about a quarter to 4, I got all freaked out when I checked our bank account online. I knew I didn’t want to pick up the girls in that state – I try hard not to raise them with the same sense of financial insecurity I grew up with – so I called my sponsor to get some support.

My sponsor told me a story from a recent production of Cinderella she saw. She said in the story, Cinderella asks her fairy godmother if she can go to the ball. She tells her fairy godmother how badly she wants to go and how disappointed she is not to have the right dress to wear or a way to get there. Then she says, “Well, I guess I could borrow my mother’s dress and catch a ride to the ball. I don’t really have to go in a fancy carriage in a fancy dress.” And of course then the fairy godmother grants her the wish, but in this version of the story she says it’s because Cinderella is willing to do everything she can to make her own dreams come true. That opens the door for the Universe to do the rest. “So,” my friend of more than 15 years then said to me, pausing only to breathe deeply (which, in turn, prompted me to do the same), “have you done everything you can do to make your dreams come true?” “I don’t know!” I cried. “Yes,” she assured me. “Yes, you have. Now, just go outside into your beautiful backyard for ten minutes before you pick up those girls and give thanks for all you have. Because just for today, it’s enough. You are enough.”

So, I did. I sat on the patio in the middle of my park-like backyard which, now that Spring has sprung, is bursting with color thanks to the flowers that are in bloom in the grass, the trees and the bushes. I sat there and looked around and then I looked up and said, “I’m sorry for doubting You. Thank You, God. Thank You for taking such good care of me. I promise, I trust You.” And before I knew it, it was time to go pick up my girls.

As I walked down the driveway to meet the bus, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was a colleague of mine who has been helping me secure project work consistently since the beginning of the year. He was calling to tell me that a resource they had assigned to an upcoming project had backed out and he wanted to know if I was interested in taking it. I smiled to the Heavens and said another silent “thank You” to the God of my understanding, who was – yet again – reminding me that there is a God, and it isn’t me.

Worry -- by Liimu

It sometimes seems no matter what I do, no matter how many post-its or To Do lists or Outlook reminders I have set up for myself to stay on top of the things in my life, lately I have still been waking up at 1 or 2 in the morning unable to return to sleep for thinking about what I've forgotten to do. This morning, at 2 am, it's this blog that on my mind. Don't feel bad, readers. Yesterday, it was something else.

I truly believe that this just as drinking is said to be the symptom of the disease of alcoholism, and not the issue itself, waking in the middle of the night anxious about having forgotten something isn't the problem. What it is that I've forgotten isn't even necessarily the problem. The problem is a lack of acceptance. Earlier today (okay, now yesterday) I was talking with my sister about a friend of hers who is dying of cancer. All the things I had just been ranting and raving about - my worries about upcoming tax payments, my skin now breaking out again because I gave in to my dairy cravings even though I now know I'm allergic, the aches and pains that come with age - suddenly seemed trite and unimportant. I told my sister how much I appreciated her sharing so candidly about her friend and how it reminded me that I need to be grateful and not get bogged down with my own privilege problems. She said, "You don't even have privilege problems. You have privilege non-problems." It's true. Lately,

I have been worrying and complaining about things that aren't even real. It's the perception of how things are going in my life that is the problem, not how things are going.

The trouble is, my perception of things can actually be quite aggressive in staking its claim as a card-carrying member of the club for Things That Are Worth Worrying About. It has the right to do that, but I am the one who decides who is granted access to that club. Just for tonight, I'm restricting access to the things that really are worth worrying about. And as I fall back asleep, meditating on all the things I have to be grateful for - my husband and children, my home, my job, my health - taking a welcome break from my incessant worry prayers and spending the extra time saying prayers for all those around me who have real problems that only real prayer can solve.

The Athlete Within -- by Liimu

Most of us, during the late pregnancy and early parenthood, voraciously search for all the information we can find about the ways in which becoming a mother will change our lives. Friends and family members share their memories of sleepless nights and mornings spent scrounging through the closets looking for something that’s reasonably wrinkle-free, fits, and isn’t stained with spit up or something worse. Websites like Babyfit, Babycenter, Parenting and iVillage are bursting with helpful tips and advice. What should I pack in my hospital bag? What will I need for the nursery? How can I ensure breastfeeding success? What are my options if I’m not successful? And probably the most asked question of all, When will I lose the baby weight?

What I learned as a new mom is that answering these questions doesn’t even scratch the surface of the real issues I faced after the baby came. I have friends who lost their baby weight before they even returned from maternity leave (though I have many more friends, thank God, who – like me – are still struggling with the last 20 pounds, three years later). Even for those lucky few who did find the number on the scale settling right back to where it had been nine months earlier when the stick first showed two lines, there was an unpleasant surprise in store. Their original weight had been redistributed in new and unsightly ways! What was this new pooch poking out over my waistband? Who invited those big bumps on the sides of my thighs? What’s up with my feet being a half size larger? And don’t get me started on the boobs. Bigger, flatter, droopier, leakier, there seems to be no end to the ways in which that region has turned on us and become an unrecognizable version of what was for some of us our once most prized assets.

I realized after the birth of my second child that although I did everything “right” according to the websites and physicians, and had another beautiful, healthy girl as a result, I still felt betrayed by my body after the dust settled. I had been through an emotionally draining, physically exhausting experience that left my body permanently transformed. I had also seen for the second time that my body could do amazing things – for the second time in less than 18 months, I had endured more than 30 hours of excruciating labor and produced new life. Could I perhaps undertake another, similarly redefining experience and transform yet again? I could, and I would. I began to focus on redefining myself as an athlete, and to challenge my body to do what it could, rather than weigh what it could. In January of 2005, I set a personal goal of running a 10K race. I scoured the internet for information about running with the same unbridled enthusiasm I had when I’d been researching pregnancy. I found online running plans, the best running trails, and found online communities and support. By the end of the year, I had run a marathon. I was a runner. Soon after completing it, I became the leader of the Philadelphia Chapter of Moms in Motion, helping other moms to achieve their fitness goals and redefine themselves as athletes.

Whether your inclination is to swim, walk, bike or run, there are tons of reasons to find your inner athlete. And who knows? Maybe by finding your inner athlete you can help those around you have the courage to go on a quest for their own athlete within. When I first started running, my five-year old daughter used to ask, “Mommy, why do you go running?” Now she asks, “Mommy, can I go with you next time?” And this year, my answer is yes! My 7-year old daughter is currently training to complete her very first 5K, and I will be cheering her on every step of the way.

The Best of Me -- by Liimu

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, or even in the wee hours of the early morning, filled with anxiety. It could be anxiety about a client I’m having a hard time managing. It could be anxiety about family dysfunction that turned up a series of nasty e-mails in my Inbox the night before. It could be anxiety about that extra slice of pizza I ate for last night’s dinner that will probably show up on the scale, yet again, or as a new pimple on my chin big enough for me to name. It’s stress, and on those days it’s getting the best of me.

It permeates my entire night and day, coloring my interactions with my family. If it’s work stress, I might check my BlackBerry while playing on the local playground with my children instead of being with them, pushing them on the swings or sliding down the slide, recapturing my own youth. If I’m stressed out about my eating, I might not be as affectionate with my husband, opting to leave the lights off this time rather than throw caution to the wind.

What I am coming to realize is that I don’t want stress to get the best of me. I don’t want work my clients, no matter how much they might pay me, to get the best of me. I don’t want food or dieting or an obsession with having the perfect body get the best of me in a world where the celebrities who define physical perfection pay tens of thousands of dollars to achieve it. What I am slowly realizing is that I want the best of me to be defined by me and reserved for me and those that I love. I want my husband to get the best of me, I want my children to get the best of me. I want to get the best of me.

What (or who) is getting the best of you today?

Rainy Day Fun -- by Liimu

As I sit watching the rain splash against the windows, settling into the idea of a weekend of nonstop rain, it makes me reflect about water, and how important it is to be in the flow of life. When water rushes down along the side of the street, it flows easily around the rocks and sticks that might be in its way. Sometimes, a stick will get carried a long for a bit, and then fall off to the side. The water doesn’t worry about what that means, or how long the stick will go along for the ride. It just flows.

That’s very much how I’ve had to be this past few weeks. As a mother of three young daughters – ages 7, 6, and 3 – and a business owner and budding singer/songwriter, there are a hundred moving pieces to keep track of in any given day. If I get all jammed up about things not going according to my plan, well, then I’m just jammed up. I’m the stick stuck in a crevice of the curb, not allowing the current of life to just take me where I’m supposed to go. If, on the other hand, I’m in the flow of things, then I can often happily see, looking back, how things have gone exactly according to Plan.

Take, for instance, my upcoming trip with my daughters down to see my mother over Spring break. When we started planning our trip, my mom had a ton of commitments to juggle and I could see it was really stressing her out. Rather than get all bunched up about it, I told her if she would be willing to leave us a key somewhere, we would come and hang out in her neck of the woods, whether she’s there or not. This gave her the freedom to do what she really wanted to do, rather than extend any offers out of a sense of obligation. So, when she invited us to come and spend some time with her in Myrtle Beach at a lovely hotel with an indoor pool and lazy river, I happily said yes. That wouldn’t have even been an option if I had gotten all offended and upset, like I used to when I was younger.

I have learned in my years of recovery that when things don’t go according to my plan, it’s always because the Powers that Be have a much better Plan than what my little human brain was able to come up with. I have passed that attitude on to my children and they are growing up to believe that anything is possible, and that change is exciting, not something to be feared.

It’s a rainy weekend. So much for going to the playground or riding bikes, or all the other things we have been dreaming about doing this entire snowy winter. Rather than lament the fact that we can’t enjoy those fair-weather activities, my girls and I will look upon the unexpected showers as God wiping the slate of our weekend plans clean so we can dream up entirely new things to do that will be even more fun.

Dream & Believe -- by Liimu

I am LIimu McGill. My husband, Glen, and I had our third child just a few months after I turned 36. I didn’t realize how much energy it took to be a mom until we added Autumn to our family, which already included two toddlers, then 3 and 4. Never one to back down from a challenge, I have continued to live life with gusto, regularly running half-marathons and participating in triathlons, running my own business, LSM Consulting, and most recently re-launching my singing career (my first CD is due out this Spring on an independent label). I live by the personal philosophy that the best way to encourage your children to follow their dreams is by following your own, no matter how late in life you start.

I look forward to sharing my journey with all of you!

When Robin (founder of MotherhoodLater.com) asked me whether I wanted my very first Motherhood Later blog post to run on March 4th or March 7th, I didn’t hesitate before answering that the 7th would be the perfect day. It’s a day of reflection for me every year, as it is the anniversary of the day I got sober, 15 years ago. Who would have thought when I was sitting in rehab 15 years ago listening to others share their experience, strength and hope about how they accepted that they needed to avoid a drink one day at a time, that I would one day be sharing my experience, strength and hope about being a nearly-40 mom of three?? Before I got sober, I didn’t really think I would ever have a husband, let alone children, though it was my deepest desire from as far back as I can remember. Sobriety has given me so many gifts, not the least of which being the courage to dream and the faith in a Higher Power and in the fact that He/She can make those dreams come true.

The recovery process is not just about recovery, it’s also about discovery. Over the past 15 years, I have learned ways of discovering what I do and don’t like about myself, what I do and don’t like to do, and who I do and don’t like to do it with. As a result, I have the life of my dreams. I run a business that offers me the financial freedom to travel and enjoy my own personal favorite activities like running and playing tennis, while also giving me the flexibility to spend time with my children. I have a husband who I often look at and think, who is that hot guy? Oh, wait! That’s my husband! I get to go home with him! (And it’s not just me – just the other night at a gig, another singer said, “Is that your husband? WOW – he’s hot!” Yep, and he’s all mine…tee hee.)

In addition to having my own business, I have always had the dream of being a singer. This past year that dream has come even closer to coming true. Before I got sober, I wrote a song about believing in your dreams, and that song was recorded with a real band (the drummer played for Stevie Wonder!!) and even played on the radio. People tell me that when they hear the song, they tear up with emotion. It makes me feel so good to know that I’m not only realizing my dreams, but touching others in the process.

And of course, the greatest dream I have realized over these past 15 years was to get married to the man of my dreams and have three beautiful, spectacular, breathtakingly wonderful daughters. With my 40th birthday fast approaching, I’m feeling an even more intense desire to continue to follow my dreams not just for my own selfish reasons, but also for them. I have come to the conclusion that the best way to get them to pursue their dreams is for me to pursue mine.

‘Cause if you believe in yourself
Then you don’t need anything or anybody else
If you believe in your dreams, then your dreams will come true
So believe in yourself, as I believe in you.
Believe in Yourself, © 2009 Liimu