“You can make anything by writing.” ― C.S. Lewis

Posts for mamasuh

Emoting On: Baby Shower

Sometimes, there’s a day where you get to be treated like royalty.

My bachelorette party (dress up +Mexican food and margaritas and wigs + dance party + yard swimming)  was one of those days.

My wedding day (sleepover + set up in the chilly drizzle + a capella singing in the hide out room + the most beautiful, funny ceremony ever + epic dance party + after party) was another.

And now, my baby shower is a third.

One of the things those three days have in common is they were planned or supported by my special group of women. My Fierce Lady tribe, which yes, can sound super cliche — except it’s so true, so apt. I hope and pray if you’re reading this and you’re a lady of any age, you have this group in your life. If you don’t, I hope and pray you find one. I hope you search them out and cultivate them, in whatever way works best for you. These are my girls who put up with my intense organizational OCD needs, who humor my dramatic sensitive FEELS, and all the novel-length texts that let me EXPRESS MY FEELINGS and maintain some sense of calm. They let me take their picture all their time, and embarrass them with expressions of love, usually in the public eye. Who let me write about them and don’t just appear not to mind (please, tell me, someone, if you mind) but also follow what goes on here and reads.

The girls who let me be me, basically. Sometimes loud, sometimes overemotional, sometimes too analytical me. All the little flaws that make me up — and these are the girls who look past the flaws and just see all the good things about me too, and remind me when I’m having a hard time seeing them myself.

I cannot stop gushing about this group of women and what a beautiful, peaceful, healing little idyll of a party they set up and planned for me — again. My baby shower was one of those days where all of the details seemed — for me, at least — to fall magically into place. The entire party was better than I could have even imagined. When I heard who all was involved planning it, I kinda hoped — but these girls went above and beyond, over the top.

Who was there was a huge part of why it was such a special day. There were people who couldn’t make it, people missing, and I wish they could have been there — but as it was, so many of my favourite people came together. The group was made up of such funny, clever people, there was no way we couldn’t have a good time. Rachel, Alison, Erin, Jeannie and Lauren all worked together to pulled together to create this little magical haven of ladies, it truly felt like a day out of magazine or a book.

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The Little Things

When I’m worried, and I can’t sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep, and I fall asleep, counting my blessings.

I’m quick to list off everything that annoys me or inconveniences me. That list is a mile long, half the time, and it’s always ready on the tip of my tongue.

But then, I had a really lovely, relaxing Sunday yesterday, full of those little pleasures that seems so small yet add so much goodness into my life. That reminded me of how very many of those little joys I have all week long, from people I look forward to seeing to activities we do together, to little sensual pleasures, self-care luxuries that are quick to get lost in the shuffle of our day-to-day demands.

Here are a few of mine, won’t you share some of yours?

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For My Mother, On Her Birthday

Life, Mama Suh, Memoir, Non-Fiction - Emily - October 7, 2015

My mother would never call herself a singer, or any sort of performer. My mother is – many things; kind and thoughtful, strong and wise, a good listener, a good advice giver – but she has never been unduly outgoing. She loves her simple pleasures, her moments of tranquility and solitude, or perhaps moments of calm with small groups of dear ones. Rambunctious is not a word to describe my mother; dramatic or theatrical aren’t a good fit either. She is steady, she is a still placid lake, or a very strong tree unbending in the storm. She enjoys a good laugh, she smiles often – but she has never identified herself as a creative, an artist. I don’t know where you get your creativity, Emmy, she’ll tell me, but it certainly wasn’t from me.

But the thing is – my earliest memories of my mother are all completely her performing for me, in some way.

I don’t know how far back specifically I can remember, but my earliest memories all seem to be in our little home in Florida, which means I was maybe about two, maybe three. Mama is who I remember most, there’s not a lot of my siblings or my father or anyone else who would have lived with or nearby at that time – I get brief flashes of idolization of my Uncle Lance, the comforting chuckle of my grandfather as he bounced me on his knee.

But mostly my whole world was my mother, as is most two and three year olds, I suppose, and all of the memories that survived into adulthood center around her.

The earliest thing I can remember is sitting in my high chair, or my booster seat, whatever it was. Eating something small and manageable for my chubby little fists. And my mother – singing.

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