The Path of a Wannabe Buddha Mom

I just finished a fabulous book, Buddha Mom- The Path of Mindful Mothering by Jacqueline Kramer which has been on my bookshelf since last summer and completing it made me wonder why I hadn't read it sooner. I felt connected to the pages in the same way I did when I first read Momma Zen early in the mothering days. This book seemed to be more applicable to where I am now, and so many of the authors experiences resonated with me as evidenced by the transparent pink lines that now permanently mark my "a-ha" moments among the pages.

As wonderful as this book is, and I encourage all moms of all faiths to read it, that is not what this is about. Mindful mothering, being in the present moment, these are what I hope my daily path leads me to and books such as these inspire that path. If I am honest, however, it is in the moment that I feel I truly fail when the path gets bumpy. It is the practical verses the spiritual if you will. "It is the attachment to desire that causes suffering, the past and the future are not real, living in the past and the future is living in fantasy; living now is living in reality"- these are all quotes from Buddha Mom, quotes I highlighted. What if the now is not where I want to be, especially when changing a diaper is more like wrestling a crocodile. In the quiet moments of reading about spiritual enlightenment as it applies to motherhood as an experience, I can find the space within me that opens up and invites the lesson in like the welcome advice of a dear friend. When my son throws his food on the floor, AGAIN, it is much more difficult to be present in the moment instead of spiraling down the '"will this ever end" thought process. And while I am in the throws of honesty, it is nothing short of torture, at times, walking at a toddler's pace. I realize these moments do not last forever, but some days they sure feel like it. Maybe part of the struggle for me is that most moments do not feel like my own, but somehow borrowed from the routine my son and I have unwittingly constructed to map out the pattern of our days. He appears to be a creature of habit, perhaps a maternal trait. It is difficult to live in the moment when each moment seems to have an unrelenting effect on the next.

So where does this leave me on my path? Lost, detoured, going in the wrong direction entirely? If "to practice means to make mistakes, make corrections, try again, make mistakes, make corrections, and try again, over and over" then I suppose the path I am on is the correct one.