Summer Night's Implosion

The other night, we ate out for dinner. Afterwards, Billy took all the boys to go to Grandma's house, and I came home. All. By. Myself. Ahh.

Driving home, I had the windows rolled down to catch the cooler night air. The temperature gauge read 84 degrees F, but compared to daytime temps it was right refreshing. The dense summer air was a sun-warmed stream washing over me, not icy but still wonderfully cool and pleasant, caressing my face and arms and tossing my hair.

The peace of being by myself is almost overwhelming. I really have a rather solitary nature, though I have learned to be a lot more social since becoming an adult. My solitary tendencies are viciously squashed during this stage of my life, as I spend every moment with other people, mostly small persons who depend on me heavily. From the outside, it must seem fairly simple to carve out a little alone time in my days- stealing some moments while the children are sleeping or busy. However even in these brief respites, I am in demand. At any instant, I am likely to be called upon. At every instant, I am calculating, managing, thinking ahead. It is only when they leave my presence entirely, safe in responsible hands, that I'm suddenly reminded what it's really like to be by myself. My bodily needs are the only bodily needs I must concern myself with. Other duties may call, but my thoughts are my own. It's really quite drastic.

I slowed down along Main St, admiring the old overhanging oak branches and the golden glow of the streetlights. The intense humidity refracted the lights, giving each one its own halo, softening the light into something more akin to fireflies than lightbulbs. I smiled, picturing the regimental parade of fireflies, marching down Main Street in celebratory fashion. The crickets chirped a jaunty summer rhythm in time.

Suddenly, all these elements came together in my awareness, the peacefulness of my own company, the wash of the summer night air, the soft glow of the lights, the trees, the crickets. Everything condensed with a bang, a little implosion of perception. It felt a bit like stepping into a parallel, enchanted universe, one that I used to frequent but that I'd somehow left behind. The night around me was positively alive with magic, bursting with impossible possibilities.

How has it become so easy for me to look past this wonder, blind to the beauties all around me? How have I become a person who can't see the forest for the trees? I am always striving, striving to meet a thousand worthy goals and a thousand more. I forge ahead, doing my best though I know there will never be enough of me to go around. In trying always to do better, to be more on top of things, I have shuttered my awareness of the finer wonders of the world. Somehow I, one whose very identity was wrapped up in magic, have managed to shelve that openness in favor of perceived efficiency.

Somehow in trying to improve, I am quashing the only parts of me that I felt truly sure of. My own personal wisdom, if you will. It is so very, very hard to be efficient and be open, relaxed, aware at the same time. Efficiency leaves very little room for serendipity. I hope I will be able to find that balance, to pole the deeper waters down the middle, where the current runs fast and sure, and I can sit back and enjoy the ride.

Come on In. I just made cookies.

Hello? Hello? Anyone here? ~sneeze~ Geez, it's gotten dusty. Where's the vacuum? OH Eeeek! Ugh. Ew. I walked into a spiderweb. Pth. Pbth. Blech. Sorry, spider. I'll open up this window. . . there. Now, let's just dust this off and then I'll build a nice fire and warm things up in here. Hey, hand me a rag, will'ya? Thanks.

* * *

Ahh, there now. Here, have a seat by the fire. Would you like some tea? I've just put the kettle on. Or there's eggnog in the fridge. . . Oh? Yes, I have that too. Excellent. Here, you are. That's better,isn't it? I've been away far too long. You know how it is, over the holidays- you write a post or two in November, and you have all these ideas in the wings, and then BLAM! Holiday preparations hit you like a mack truck and suddenly you're just barely hanging on as you careen on down the highway, trucking along to your destination. No time for a brief stroll to visit the blog, air out your thoughts a bit, maybe have a relaxed conversation. And so the blog sits, abandoned, with no words to mark this passing time. Soon, only memories (and what unlikely photos you've managed to grab) are all that remains of another year gone by. That, and the mess.

Well, at least I've managed to stop in this evening. Thanks for visiting! It's so lovely to find a few readers hanging on against all odds. Especially since I seldom visit your blogs anymore. Sorry about that. I'll be back! Probably next year, but given time, I'll pop by again. In the meantime I've been doing pretty well checking off my real-world to-do list, and hopefully remembering to have some fun, too. I hope things are good for you as well.

Today was a whirlwind. By this evening my nerves were a bit raw. Dinner was rough- the kids pounded me with an unbelievable array of persistent demands, questions, whining, pleading, griping and just general noisemaking. Babyman was hungry, crying, and rejecting everything I offered. Finally he settled on a boiled egg, which he rejected as soon as I finally placed it in front of him. Meanwhile, my soup grew cold. Amidst all of this, the Pirate decided it was a good idea to go empty the wastebasket out onto the living room floor. It made a great big pile of dog hair, random bits of trash and tons of used-up crayon nubs and dried-out markers that I'd cleaned out of the crayon bin. For a moment, my energy ebbed completely away and I just lay my head down on the table in front of me, despair amidst the din.

I bucked up and made the Pirate clean up the mess. Then what did I do? Why, made Emergency Chocolate Cookies, of course!

I did a Google search to find what I was looking for. They were just as fast, easy and yummy as I needed. Perfection!

Emergency Chocolate Cookies

1 box dark chocolate cake mix
1 cup white chocolate chips
1 cup quick-cooking oats
1/2 cup oil
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1/2 cup raisins
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 F. In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients, blending well. If the mixture is too stiff, add a little water. Drop dough by rounded teaspoonfuls 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes or until set. Cool 1 minute before removing from the cookie sheets.

For altitudes above 3500 feet, add 1/4 cup flour to dry cake mix.

Voila! Tasty. Everyone went to bed happy. Enjoy. And, remember to relax a little. :)
See ya when I see ya.
;)

Over-Parenting: a Time Magazine Article

All I have to offer tonight is this EXCELLENT article from the latest edition of Time magazine. Check it out.

Can These Parents Be Saved? - The Case Against Over-Parenting

Enlightenment

Throbbing, pounding din of pain, ache so intense it seems to radiate from my head in an unholy halo of suffering. It started innocently enough, just an annoyance of a headache, nothing more- until the depth and intensity built upon itself the edifice of affliction known to me as "migraine". A true, full-blown migraine headache is a trippy experience (not that I'd be able to compare, of course) in pain, a place where loud noises explode before my eyes in visual fireworks, my stomach churns with nausea and any sudden movement I make can just about do me in entirely. Movement leaves me reeling. Normal headache medications are barely effective, if at all- today I never noticed the least difference after taking some. It was homeopathic silicea, and lying still in a warm bed with a cold washcloth over my eyes, that finally tamed the beast. (Plus some candied ginger for the nausea.) It took a couple hours of being very still (thank goodness for Babyman's nap time), but by dinnertime I was up and functional once again.

The night is only sweeter now for all the torment of the afternoon. After the pain, I am so grateful for the peace of this evening. My quiet music mingles with the chirrup and peep of the frogs and night insects, cool air drifts through my kitchen window, little else but the clack of my keyboard meets my ears. The boys sleep deeply, sprawled in little boy abandon across the rumpled covers of my bed. I am not bothered by what mess I see around me- I will tidy some of it, and the rest will patiently wait for tomorrow. Now is taken, now is full, now is a rich study in senses, a meditation, a time for awareness and wonder and gratitude.

Why do we need contrast to bring out the highlights? What is it about our human awareness that so consistently forgets our blessings, until suffering carves our experience into high relief? Is this then the goal of an enlightened existence: to live in a place of meditative, golden appreciation, to be able to bask in the glow of beauty and gratitude without needing darkness to make them apparent? Or does that smack of hubris, to imagine such a thing could be possible? For without dark, there is no light. They are so intertwined, so interdependent, that one shall never exist without the other. The trick then, is to find the beauty in both. We do not find enlightenment through seeking light. It is beauty we must see. Pause now, quiet your mind for just a moment, and find beauty. It is there. Relish it. Appreciate it. Be grateful for it. It is a blessing. Practice this often. You needn't journey for enlightenment. It is all around you.

There is no "seek". Only "see".

August Meditation

As if someone has reached out and turned the wheel of the year a notch, quite suddenly I sense the birth of Fall. Summer still blazes, but her intensity is waning and she has let her guard down a few times. A couple nights ago I opened the door to let the dogs out, and felt goosebumps prickle my skin. Goosebumps! The air was cool, so cool, sliding hesitantly through the half opened door.

I opened the windows, and cherished every breath of breeze that kissed my cheek. The night insects sent up their prayers to the moon, a hallelujah chorus of sweet summer night, but with the liveliness now came a bare hint of mortality. Like the skull in the still life painting, with beauty lurks death. In death, beauty. The partners may change, but the dance goes on. Summer curtsies, and awaits her next dance with golden anticipation.

Birth of a Pirate

Screaming, and tears, whining, resistance, defiance. You take rebellion to illogical, emotional levels that your brother's never dreamed of. He'll often start the uprising, but he knows when to cut his losses, and watches in wonder while you seem hellbent for destruction. Time and again I find myself in a frustrating game of chicken with you, the 3-yr old vs this harried authority figure known as Mommy. Logic holds no sway here. 'Damn the torpedoes! I am three, hear me roar! Don't speak to me of consequences, for they hold no meaning in this land, this great eternal NOW. I don't want to, and that should be enough for you!'

Oh, Sweetcheeks. You were such a sweet baby. Just as laid back as could be, you were sent by angels who pitied me after your brother's babyhood. Sweet, sweet, cuddly precious little thing. Who could have imagined you had such iron resolve under those smiles and curls? You've lost those poochy baby jowls that gave you your nickname, and you have earned your new nickname, "The Pirate". It pleases you.

Yet now, shining auburn hair spread across your pillow, framing your peaceful face as you dream your pirate dreams, you are radiant. You are love, pure, fierce and breathtaking. I've never known anyone to utter the words "I love you" as often as they leave your lips. I've never known a more enthusiastic snuggler. I've never chosen to pour myself into anyone as emotionally needy as you are, my wonderful middle child. I love you so much, and you drive me crazy, and you're beautiful.

You are a marvel, my little Pirate. A walking paradox. A small, strong bundle of defiance and overflowing love. Navigate life's uncharted seas with your 3-yr old fearlessness and enthusiasm. Keep loving like there's no tomorrow. Be ever true to yourself. And please, please, to all powers that be, may you grow to temper your resolve with understanding.

My Self and the Motorcycle

I've been musing on a few things lately, which may or may not make it into this blog. In fact, that it one of the things I've been musing on. . . someone told me that I am too cautious when I write here. That my best writing is deeply personal, and that most of what I post here is more "aloof", in a way. Hmmm. I've been thinking on that one.

I hope to write more on it- but it's late and I'm exhausted, and I think instead I will post something that was originally part of a private conversation between Billy and me. See, in the context of a broader conversation Billy suggested to me, quite logically, that we should sell the motorcycle. It has excellent resale value, and it gets precious little use, these days. I cried. Later, I wrote Billy a letter to explain my reaction. I'm tempted to qualify what I wrote, but that would be too cautious, wouldn't it? Habits die hard. :) So, I'll just share some of what I've been thinking about.

* * *

Hey, Billy.
You're right that the idea of selling the motorcycle was a particular blow- and since I was already upset, it broke the dam. Motorcycle riding with you is so special to me. . . in some ways it's the last vestige of the friendship we used to have. It's not just about something recreational. Riding the motorcycle is simultaneously thrilling, fun, romantic, meditative, physical, challenging, rewarding. . . I can't think of anything else in the world that makes me feel the same way. Sharing the experience with you helps refill the reserves that I draw on daily in our relationship. Every day that I don't ride, someplace inside me aches. Seriously- I feel it every day. I was just beginning to feel a renewed hope that soon, we would take more days to ride- not all the time of course, but at least a lot more than once a year. Finally finally, I am not pregnant nor do I have a tiny, breastfeeding infant. It's been a long six years. . . but I thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

However here too, I am secondary to our children in your affection. You want to replace the motorcycle with something we can do with the kids. I try to accept that you may never wish to be around me as you once did. I am infinitely grateful that you love our boys SO much and wish to spend as much time as possible with them. I can watch you pour physical affection on the boys every second that you are near them, and love that they have such an awesome daddy, even if we'll go days when the only non-accidental physical contact from you is a quick, distracted kiss as you head out the door. Please don't think I'm ungrateful- I see you try, and I especially love it that you tell me you love me, and that you sometimes remember to give me a real hug when I least expect it. It still hurts, but that's not really what this is about. What I REALLY need is my friend back. At least a couple times a year. And when you're around the kids, you are first and foremost their Daddy. As wonderful as that is, it leaves ME shut out. I might be their Mommy, but you don't really have time for your friend. OK. I love being a mommy. But just every once in awhile, I need to be just me. Motorcycle riding with you makes me feel like me again.

I am dying inside, Billy. I am losing my sense of self. I am nothing more than a service-bot to our children, to my responsibilities, even to you. Everything that once made me a unique and special person is pretty much gone. I cannot read, I cannot dream, I can't be alone, I cannot do art, I cannot relax, I don't even have my best friend anymore. I am now defined by elements that are external to me- mostly by the kids, which are great, but it's not ME anymore. I'm shut away in a closet inside, while I work on developing and experiencing this other person- a great person I hope, my boys' mommy.

So in a way, you can see that my reaction to motorcycle riding is a symptom. . . I have so much bound up in this one wonderful, symbolic and renewing activity. I may not be able to read and dream, but at least once in awhile, I can escape at high speeds with the man I love. I can breathe mountain air and BE ME. When the kids are around, I'm not me. I'm their mommy. That's not a bad thing, but do you understand- it's defined through these external things. I'm losing my SELF. And that, I think, is a dangerous thing. I think it's important that I keep my individual self alive, somewhere deep inside me. Maybe one day she can come out more often.

Anyway, I just wanted to explain my reaction better. Thinking about getting rid of the bike twists my gut. But logically, you are absolutely right: it doesn't make sense to keep it. No activity with the children will replace it, though. I'm sorry. It's just not the same for me.
I love you.
Kit

Navel Gazing: "Shut Up."

My brain has been waking up.

You know that saying, that you don't know what you have until it's gone? Well, sometimes you don't know what you've lost until it returns.

See, Babyman isn't sleeping through the night. He's nearing 18 months old, but he still isn't sleeping through the night. Gradually gradually however, he has been doing better at night. I've had a number of nights now where he has only woken once, and often that's while I am still up. So for me, there have been a number of nights that I get a full night's sleep. It's heavenly. I'm still tired all the time, and it will be a long while before I catch up on my sleep, but the difference is palpable.

Before, I felt like I was functioning pretty well, and I guess I was. The kids were cared for, the bills were paid, we managed to get to our various commitments if not on time, then at least in time to participate. The house wasn't (isn't) clean, but we had clothes to wear and dishes to eat out of. I spoke to my friends and family on a regular basis and felt like I'd had a good conversation once in awhile. I knew I wasn't doing as much as I'd like, but I was doing the best I could and it was OK.

Now I realize how little I was engaging the world around me. Sure, I was talking to people and observing my environment, but only a small percentage was being processed. I didn't talk as much as I might normally, because I couldn't hold a coherent thought in my head long enough to verbalize it and still be in the flow of the conversation. I wasn't actually noticing a lot of what was going on around me. I knew what the kids were up too; that was important. But beyond that, I was too sleepless and distracted to see much of what was happening. So I listened a lot, heard a little, and talked less.

I am still distracted, still scattered, but I am a lot more awake and aware than I was before. My neurons are firing in sync a lot more often than they were before, allowing me to follow conversations and think of things to say. This has led to a new problem: I talk too much. Now I make connections between what is being said in the conversation and my own experiences, and I am blurting them out before I've had time to think about whether it's really going to further the discussion or not. Sometimes, I am so excited by what's being said that I am interrupting people to blurt out things that are marginally useful at best. This goes for conversations with adults AND things I say to my kids. Too often, I am telling myself, "Shut up, Kit, just shut up."

I am SO glad to be functioning a little better. The sleep was desperately needed. I feel so much more awake and engaged, and I am getting more done. I see the benefits in so many little areas of my life. I didn't realize how badly my sleepless nights were taking their toll, until I started waking up. However, I am going to have to reign in this verbal barrage that spills out of my mouth. It's going to take conscious effort. Listen more, talk less. Make words the currency that you spend wisely. That's what I will work toward. (Hmm, it might be a good goal for my WRITING too, eh? Sorry.) Hopefully, I will find my balance where I can take care of business, enjoy socializing, and contribute to conversations without running my mouth non-stop. It's a goal. :)

Those of you with kids: did you notice the difference in your life when your baby (or babies) started sleeping better? In your mental function? Everyone: is there anything you are working toward improving in yourself right now?

An afternoon several months ago

Wow, so I'm now posting monthly? Or just about. . . apologies, for my absence. (again). Been busy. Yadda etc. Sigh.

As busy as I have been however, I recently unearthed a reminder of how busy I am NOT. I happened to pick up my Sudoku (Yes, I Sudoku. When I can, anyway. It's relaxing- Try it.) book, and flipped through it. In the back, I found a hastily scribbled account of one afternoon a few months ago, when Babyman was still pretty brand new and Sweetcheeks was still potty training. I remember grabbing the handy Sudoku book to write it down, as a means of release and to remember the nitty gritty of daily life at that time. Here follows that record.


Mr. Sweetcheeks, who should be napping but isn't, dumps a large box of cards out while I am nursing Babyman. I am temporarily immobilized, so all efforts to get Sweetcheeks to clean them up are ignored. He wanders off.

Babyman poops in the fresh diaper that I'd just put on him, and then promptly falls into a sweet contented sleep that I am loathe to disturb. I lay Babyman down so I can get Sweetcheeks to clean up the cards. After one brief stint in time-out, we finally get that done.

Babyman begins to cry. At least I can change his diaper now.

Freshly diapered, I lay Babyman down awake. I'm folding laundry. Sweetcheeks wants to pet the baby. His hands are quite dirty- I tell him that if he wants to touch the baby, he must wash his hands first. He tries several times to pet the baby anyway, then finally agrees to wash his hands. We go to the bathroom, where he decides he wants to go potty. I help him remove his pants and diaper, and he manages to pee a few drops in the potty. Yea! I help him wash his hands. Babyman starts to cry, so I let Sweetcheeks stay naked the waist down. [note: I used to do this a lot, as it helped a great deal with the potty training. Most of the time, it went well.]

I go pick Babyman up; he poops. As I am changing his diaper, he poops twice more- and pees too, but I have a washcloth strategically placed so at least I don't get showered. Halfway through all this Sweetcheeks begins to scream. He's in the bathroom. He comes to me crying about his eyes, which (when I mange to get his hands away from them, all while in the midst of the ongoing baby diaper change) I see are covered in soap. It's ALL over his hands and eyes.

Babyman chooses this moment to pee again, and this time he sprays all over my shirt. I get Sweetcheeks to sit still and not touch his face while I finish putting a diaper on Babyman and lay him down, half-dressed, indignant and screaming.

I take Sweetcheeks to the bathroom to clean him up and doctor his eyes. Babyman screams.

I finish finally, and rush to pick up Babyman. He wants to nurse, so I settle in for that. Sweetcheeks comes in and lays on the floor to mope. Next thing I know I look over to see him rubbing baby's blanket on his naked penis. I scold, because he knows he isn't supposed to play with Babyman's things, and probably knows I wouldn't want him using them like that. He is maddeningly unrepentant, in such a way that leads me to believe the activity was intentional just to annoy me. I am temporarily immobilized nursing though, as he is well aware.

Sweetcheeks then comes over and stands next to me with his head in my lap. He says, "I wuv you, Mommy". I rub his head gently, telling him that I love him too, and I that I need his help- that even though I love taking care of them, it is hard work, and he needs to help by being a good boy and trying not to do things that he knows I will not like.

We all remain that way in companionable silence for just a few moments, when I hear a suspicious sound. Do I really smell pee?? I can't believe it. I wrack my brain for another explanation. It had sounded like a lot. I can't see over the baby to check, so finally I ask Sweetcheeks, "Did you just make pee pee on the floor?"

"Yes", he calmly replies.
AAAAAAAAAAAARGH! <<[That was just my mental reaction, luckily, along with a small internal explosion. I don't now remember what I actually said, but I bottled the explosion in until I could grab the nearest paper and writing instrument- sudoku book and pencil- to record my, er, difficult afternoon.


After reading this little bubble of memory, I actually felt quite grateful for my current tribulations with my boys. We've come a long way in 8 or so months!

* * *
Thumbs up tonight for the free online Sudoku puzzles!

We have your biopsy results back. . .

Wow.
I had an unexpected phone call today.
Actually I expected the call, it was the content that was a surprise.
Let me back up just a bit.

I am a very fair-skinned person. Fair skinned, dark haired and freckled all over. I sunburn easily and almost never tan. I live in the Southern USA, where the summers are hot and the sun is blazing. I grew up around here.

My husband has encouraged me many times to get a preventative check at a dermatologist, just to be sure none of my bazillion little moles and freckles have anything to do with skin cancer. I agreed, but since the only odd mark I could think of was a mole on my ear that appeared sometime in childhood, I figured if it hadn't killed me yet it wasn't likely to do so anytime soon. So I put the check-up on my mental back burner, until I finally got around to it last week.

They took a small sample of the odd mole for a biopsy, but didn't spot anything else particularly suspicious. They weren't actually too concerned about the sample either, but it was different enough to warrant a test. So anyhow, today they called to tell me the test results.

"Kit ___?"
"Yes, this is she."
"Hi this is Dr. ___'s office, just calling with your test results."
"Oh, OK!" (expectant pause)
"Could you hold just a moment please?"

That's where I thought, "Uh oh". Because if they have to go get the doctor to tell you the test results, you know they're not going to say that everything's just fine and dandy.

And well, it's not. But it's not that bad either. That wierdo little mole is actually basal cell carcinoma. It's the most common form of skin cancer, and it's usually easy to treat. It's almost never life-threatening. I'll be going back to their office in a week and a half or so to have the rest of the mole removed. Hopefully it doesn't go too deep, because I'd rather not look like someone took a bite out of my ear. ;)

It's an odd thing, to be told you have cancer. Thank heavens it's something small, common and easily treated. But it's still a knock upside one's complacency. As a friend teased (with typical good humor), "you KNOW you're getting old, when things start turning up cancerous!" 31 isn't old of course, but I do feel the differences in my body. We are not young forever, and while that does not bother me (there are aspects of my crone years that I quite look forward to) it's still mournful to feel youth slipping away.

Isn't it funny: no matter how trite or cliche a common wisdom or common experience may be, when you find yourself in the midst of that awakening, it is nevertheless fresh and raw to you?

However even though this shines a spotlight on my body's inexorable march through time, it is juxtaposed with a recent evening of joy, rhythm and dancing. We went to a drum circle in a nearby park, and I danced for hours. It felt SO GOOD! I haven't danced like that in years. I woke the next morning sore and spent in the best way possible- the kind of spent that replaces energy with peacefulness. That evening gives me fresh hope that I can hold onto some of the vigor and joy, the vitality of youth, even as I embark on adulthood. Perhaps it took a funny little mole to remind me how very important it is to cultivate one's own joy and vitality, even in the throes of other responsibilities. It's a small reminder for a small adjustment, but OH! What a difference it makes.

A Simple Solution

It is easy to forget the simplest and best solutions, sometimes.

I realized this yesterday, while caring for Babyman. He'd been fussy all morning, not at all interested in letting me set him down and get any housework or office work done. He was discontent and demanding, and it was putting me on edge. I tried so many things to engage his attention away from me. I'd been nursing AGAIN, which probably helped me because of all the relaxing, feel-good hormones it releases into my blood stream. So I was supporting Babyman as he sat on my lap, rubbing his back and patting it softly. He was content for the moment, simply looking around the room. I was tired (as always) and relaxed, and started to lose myself in quiet, loving contemplation of my baby. I stroked his hair, and pressed my cheek to his, and admired his fat, fat little dimpled knees. He burped, as I'd expected him to, and smiled. Right about then is when I'd normally move on to something else, probably changing his diaper and trying to set him down somewhere so I could do laundry or whatever else. But right then, I was too tired and content to go anywhere. So I simply continued holding and loving Babyman, stroking his back gently.

Then, he belched. I mean, REALLY belched- the sort of primal release that still startles me to hear out of so small a person, even though he is my third child and I should be used to them by now. It was followed by a dainty burp, and Babyman laughed. Not to go all sappy on you, but it was ridiculously darling! (I know, I know, only a mother. . .) We enjoyed each other's company a little while longer, before I got up and put him on the nursery floor to play. He was happy there while I folded some laundry. Whether he'd been uncomfortable and fussy because he needed to burp, or simply been in need of a little undivided mommy attention, all I had to do was slow down, quit trying to do several things at once, and just BE with my baby. Such a simple solution, and yet so easy to forget.

Baby Time. Remember that it moves at a much more sedate pace than we do. To understand and connect with your baby, you have to slow down and focus on the present. It's a very Eastern mode of handling the situation, I think- and it really, really helps.

* * *

Today's thumbs-up goes to this site's ideas to help one be more present, or "in the moment":
http://zenhabits.net/2007/07/5-inspirations-for-being-in-the-moment/

Grey hairs, part 2

SO, I left you when I was standing at the gas pump with the sick realization that I was no longer in possession of my wallet. (A very sick realization, indeed). Babyman was crying, traffic was bad and my gas tank was on empty. I finally caved in to the fact that my wallet was NOT in the van, and started thinking back. Had I left it somewhere in the mall? Did it fall in the parking lot somehow? It's always hectic loading everyone into the van when I am by myself with them, and Sweetcheeks had nearly run out into the parking lot that day- perhaps in the chaos my wallet somehow fell on the ground. I hopped back into the van and joined the traffic crush (doing my best to soothe Babyman) to head back to my previous parking space.

The ride back sucked, of course- I felt a sense of urgency, because if the wallet was in the parking lot, I wanted to find it before anyone else. But traffic was very slow, and meanwhile Babyman's cries grew in decibels and intensity. Littleman slept peacefully on, but Sweetcheeks threw in one more element by asking me innocently "Where is the wallet, Mommy?" over and over and OVER again. (WHY do they do that?) Argh. And all the while, I try to conserve gas where I can because that needle is frighteningly low. THAT would just be the icing on the cake, I'm thinking- to run out of gas and be stranded with the kids without any money or ID. Yeah. Oh, and one more thing: I had to pee. Bad.

Good news, I made it to my parking space. Bad news, no wallet anywhere. My next hope is that either it was picked up by a good soul who turned it in to a lost and found, or that I'd left it at Teavana (where I'd last used it). Babyman is super upset by now, so I sit in the van to nurse, trying not to fret too much. I try using 411 on my cell to call Teavana, but the number turns out to be a fax line. I'm going to have to drag everyone back into the mall.

I put Babyman in the stroller and unbuckle Sweetcheeks, and try to wake Littleman. He is SO asleep. Littleman does not do well with rude awakenings. At ALL. Finally, finally I get him out of the van and we are all moving. The nice lady at the Nordstrom has not seen the wallet. She calls Nordstom's lost and found to see if anyone had turned it in- nope. Next I shuttle everyone to the bathroom, as I'm about to burst. We all crowd into the big stall and I turn to find Littleman's already sitting on the pot. I hop around slightly, trying to be patient with him. . . until I realize he is pooping. Geez! I dash for the next stall while Littleman whines that his door is open and what if someone comes in? At least I'm feeling MUCH better. I help Littleman and Sweetcheeks finish up, and shuttle everyone toward the sinks.

That's when I hear someone say my name in surprise. Looking up, I spot a neighbor whom I know from the Homeowner's Association. She's very friendly, and I pause so she can ooh and ah over Babyman. She senses that I'm uncomfortable though, and finally asks how I'm doing. "Fine", I reply, "though I'm actually having a minor crisis right now." I explain and she springs into action, offering to help. She holds Sweetcheeks' hand as we all troop out to Teavana, and offers to loan me money for gas in case we don't find the wallet. What started out as an irritation (because I was in a hurry) turns out to be a wonderful help.

As we walk into Teavana I catch the clerk's eye and ask if anyone had found a black wallet. "Yes!" she says, "Here it is!" And it's my wallet. I could melt with relief. We all cheer, and I thank my neighbor. Whew. Thank goodness.

We do make it to the gas station, and I fill the tank and we go home. Whew. Whew. What relief.

It's funny how very much more stressful these sorts of situations become when I am by myself with the kids. Once upon a time, this would have been little more than an annoying footnote to my day. Now, it's a situation that probably took a year off of my life. And really? What for? I'm glad I went straight back and retrieved my wallet, but was it really worth that sort of stress? Probably not. It's hard to remember this when you are in the situation, let alone manage to apply it to your state of mind.

Anyway, it all ended fine, and I relaxed at home. And now, Babyman's crying again. Off I go!

lost memories (thank goodness), and DCD

Saturday, March 01, 2008

lost memories (thank goodness), and DCD
Current mood: relieved

Whew.
Total. Chaos.
That was my evening.

But now the boys are all sleeping, the dogs are quiet inside, everyone is fed and watered, Dead Can Dance is playing softly, and my nice hot cup of tea is steeping here beside me.
Deep breath.

* * *

Amidst the chaos tonight, I had a special treat: Littleman thanked me for making him a delicious dinner. THAT was a pleasant surprise. Littleman is far, far more likely to take one look at anything I give him and whine, "But I don't waaaant that" or, "I don't like ___". (Though he'll usually eat fairly well, in spite of that). Even if he likes whatever I've given him, he'll simply eat it- compliments are unheard of. When he said that tonight, I remember glancing down at his bowl to be sure that he was, indeed eating the same food I'd prepared. Yup- simple buttered pasta (pirate-shaped, for fun) with fresh steamed broccoli florets and leftover roast on the side. I'd thrown it together as fast as humanly possible while Babyman screamed the whole time. Who knows why, but Littleman turned on the charm for me. It made me feel much better about the whole evening.

* * *

Have you ever noticed that women's clothing doesn't have pockets? I mean sure, most (but not all) women's jeans have pockets- but most other clothing items simply have no place to put anything. Men's clothes have pockets. Even men's pajama pants generally have pockets, while women's don't. WHY is this? Is it because pockets add bulk, thus disturbing our attempts to look as slim as possible? Is it because our clothes are fashionable rather than utilitarian? Is it simply assumed that we all carry purses? Really, what's up with this?

* * *

I feel like sometimes, I am hovering on the brink of insanity. Not literally, just in the sense that at any moment I might really blow my top and start screaming. It's SO hard, because my tension only helps escalate the general tone of my interactions with the boys, and their interactions with each other. We spiral out of control, and next thing I know one of them has hurt the other, or I am yelling, or somebody's crying. . . or more often, all of the above. Everybody needs my attention every minute, so there is ALWAYS someone who's feeling left out, ignored or upset. The best I can hope for is a temporary, uneasy compromise for peace. Or to have everyone sleeping!

But a silver lining occurred to me: right now, when things are hardest, the boys are all very young. They won't remember most of this. Even Littleman, who has an incredible memory, will probably forget most of the day-to-day insanity (I hope). By the time they get a little older and their vision of me is being imprinted in their long-term memories, I will be less stressed out and more myself. I think their memories will be of a much better person than I am now. And, that's a very good thing. :)

* * *

For tonight's thumbs-up, I went a-webhunting for something about Dead Can Dance. Found a bunch of stuff! But of course, youtube is where I got lost. Here's my selection for this post:



Good night.

wonder

Friday, February 15, 2008

wonder
Current mood: inspired

It seems like I am often writing about the trials of my mommy existence, yet I seldom make note of the simple unadulterated joy that's also involved. There are a few reasons for this- usually the trials make for better writing, and I have a need to write about them. It helps relieve a little tension and allow me to laugh at myself. But unfortunately, another reason is that I simply tend to see the tough stuff more than the joy. I am so swept up in managing, that I am missing out on the little moments- flashes of beauty that can suddenly bring it all into perspective.

What brought this realization to mind was a simple instant earlier this week: I was driving to pick Sweetcheeks up from Montessori, and Littleman was in his seat in the back of the van. The weather was lovely, and I had the radio on. A Genesis song came on, and Littleman asked me to turn it up. My mind was wandering, ticking off lists in my head and planning strategies to try to manage the day efficiently. I looked in my mirror to check on Littleman in the back seat, just as I do often, without thinking. This time however, the whole moment caught my attention and I suddenly felt aware. Littleman was watching out the window, lips pursed, head bobbing expertly to the beat. His bedhead was particularly admirable that day, his hair exploding off one side of his head as if he were still moving at mach speed even when strapped into his carseat. He was so present, so genuine and delightful. It wasn't anything Earth-shattering- in fact it was quite normal- but suddenly I was aware of the blessing of it all, and the beauty of that moment.

Not only did I revel in the sudden awareness, but I realized that I should be paying closer attention to these little joys. That I wasn't keeping myself open, so that the wonder could shine through. This is key, I think, to reawakening the relaxed, creative and spontaneous self I used to be. The first step to creating magic in my life is to recognize the magic I already have, and wonder at it.

* * *

Today's thumbs-up is for these acoustic images- remarkable little atmospheric tracks put together from field recordings gathered all over the world. The site is called WildTracks, and the recordings are by Steven Van Roy. Have a listen, and enjoy.
(note: after you click on the title of the track you want to hear, you still have to click play. It took me awhile to figure that out. Doh).

making time for Littleman

Sunday, May 27, 2007

making time for Littleman Current mood: hopeful Ah, some peaceful moments. . . it's been a good week. Billy took a few days off to spend with the boys- he took Littleman on an overnight backpacking trip (along with Uncle Aaron), and they had a great little adventure. Sweetcheeks and I stayed home, did laundry, caught up on some shopping, took naps and went to the park. Then the following day, Billy took Mr. Cheeks out to the mall and a restaurant, while Littleman and I shot his new bow and arrows, did laundry, took a nap and washed dishes together. It was nice. Spending that time with Littleman was especially important for me, I think. Lately he has really been acting out toward me, not wanting to speak to me if Billy is around, and not wanting to be polite to me or show me affection- generally not wanting to have anything to do with me as long as his Daddy is around for him. Then any time Billy is gone to work or elsewhere, Littleman will often moan about it for hours, saying that he doesn't want Daddy to leave. And any time he gets in trouble for something, he whines "Daddy" over and over, as if I am the Evil One and Daddy would make it all better. Never mind that he'd be certain to have gotten in trouble whether Daddy was home or not! Billy tries to help the situation by helping with discipline whenever he can, and making a point of showing appreciation for the things I do for the kids. He makes Littleman say thank you to me for things, and even give me a hug. But part of the problem is simply that I have little time any more to focus solely on Littleman, and do fun things with him. I understand some of his frustration with our relationship, because I feel it too- too often it seems like the only time I am paying direct attention to him, it is to discipline or to hurry him along. My time is so stretched, and these days (with the pregnancy) I am SOO tired. When it is just me and both boys, so many activities become too difficult to tackle- taking the boys swimming is more than I want to handle alone, and a simple trip to the park or the library can be hair-raising. Even at home, trying to do fun projects is difficult- Sweetcheeks is livid to be left out of things, but including him when Littleman and I try to do a project can simply derail the whole experience. Having a day with just Littleman and I together highlighted the things we've been missing. I was able to be more relaxed around him, because I did not have to be as vigilant as I am when little brother is around. I could let Littleman do many things for himself that are off-limits to Sweetcheeks, and I could turn more of my attention to Littleman alone. It felt good- so much more like I would like our homeschooling environment to be. So, besides having a bit of a break this week, Billy's time off has helped me realize that I need to be making more of an effort to send Mr. Cheeks off on his own little adventures (overnight to my Mom's for instance, or out with Daddy for the day) so that Littleman and I can have our own time. It will be good for everyone involved. Also, I need to come up with confined, fun, messy and absorbing activities for Sweetcheeks to do once in awhile, so that he will have something satisfying to do while Littleman and I complete our own little projects- whether we're cooking together, washing dishes, potting plants, drawing or crafting, whatever. And finally, I need to remember that (mess-be-damned) I should make time for these things often. There are more important things than a clean house.

our yearly getaway

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

our yearly getaway Current mood: content Had my yearly (for our anniversary) overnight vacation from the kiddos this last Sunday and Monday. It was soooo nice! Billy and I rode the motorcycle to a place in NC that we've wanted to stay at. It's been literally a year since I last rode the bike, and Billy is a bit out of practice too. That being the case, we didn't exactly kick ass in our riding this trip. It was hard to find our groove. That was OK, though- we took it easy and enjoyed ourselves. There's no need to try to prove anything if the skills just aren't up to par right now. Hopefully we'll get a chance to practice more after this baby gets a little older, and in the meantime we were mostly interested in enjoying each other's company and trying to rejuvinate. I was surprised at how difficult I found it to relax and feel my connection with our surroundings. That's usually a skill I can access with just a little effort, but it took me awhile before I started to really "see" the landscape and to feel my energy flow more freely. At some point, all of a sudden I could feel fingers of beauty reaching inside me to poke my soul awake. It was still gradual from there, but more and more I started to notice the spectacular details and magic we passed through. I don't think I ever reached a point where I was truly connected, but I certainly came close enough to refill my spiritual reserve for awhile. Damn, I needed that. Incidentally the place we stayed is called the Snowbird Mountain Lodge, and I highly recommend it. We never stayed there before because rooms are over $200, and go up from there. However, we realized that the room rate includes three meals, and let me tell you the food was excellent. Dinner was superb, and included four courses. Alcohol is not included in the price, but if you choose to drink they have an amazing wine list, a full bar and a fantastic array of beers to choose from. (No I didn't get to partake of course, but you can bet I'll go back sometime when I will be able to!) The coffee and teas are scrumptious. Then there's a full breakfast the next morning (don't miss the warm scones!) and they send you off with a picnic lunch. Yumyumyum! Not to mention the Lodge itself was wonderful- they pay close attention to every detail. They do not allow children under 12- a benefit in this case. It will be awhile before I'm able to get away for this again, but I sure hope to go back when it's feasible. If you need a luxurious, relaxing getaway consider splurging on this place. I wish we could have stayed much longer!

Dust in a sunbeam

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Dust in a sunbeam Current mood: calm Today the house was quiet for a good couple of hours. It was wonderful. Billy took Littleman with him to a couple casual meetings, so when Sweetcheeks was napping I had the house all to myself. The radio was off, the dogs were outside and the most pressing chores were done. After tidying the kitchen a little I took a shower, read and cuddled under the blankets. For some reason I couldn't quite sleep, but just relaxing there and listening to the relative silence was very nice. It's only in these rare moments of quiet contemplation that the normally hidden sounds around me reenter my conciousness- birdsong outside, the creaking of the walls as the wind blows, some voices next door, the highway far off. Though the sun was pouring exuberantly through the bedroom windows, pooling and dripping light from every surface it touched, it's honey warmth was mere illusion- the air was crisp and quite cold, and I wrapped my blankets tighter around me. The birds made a riot of cheerful sound, and it made me happy to hear it because that means Spring is not really so far off now. Lying there, I was thinking about awareness- about really seeing, about being in a place. So much of the time I am consumed with concerns that are abstract, with realities in the future and with the mundane physical aspects of my environment. So much of my life is spent this way, trying to keep up with my responsibilities and conform to a schedule of sorts. So much needs to get done each day, that there is no time left to just be in the day. No time to recharge my soul in quietude. No time to while away with my boys, focusing on what they have to say to me or what little games they want to play. No time to watch the sunlight filter through the leaves, or quietly spend an hour watching the birds come and go at the feeder. No time to inspect acorns or make detailed analyses of dirt, no time to mentally catalogue the curve of Littleman's cheekbones or the shining curl of Sweetcheeks' hair. If it were not for photographs, I'd have no memory at all of huge chunks of the last few years. I feel like these things are slipping through my fingers, yet I am struggling to keep up with all the "real" things I must get done. I try to stop once in awhile to focus, to listen, but it is far, far from enough. I know things will improve as the boys continue to grow, as they get more self-sufficient. But until then, what? Am I losing precious treasure to the bank accounts, meal preparation, endless cleaning, dishes, laundry, running errands, damn tax preparation? To wiping dog feet, sweeping up cereal, folding diapers, brushing the teeth of a screaming struggling toddler? I don't know. I'm not sure it matters much, because this stuff has to be done. What am I to do? The enlightened thing, I suppose, would be to find transcendence in these mundane necessary tasks. Ideally I should find the zen in the everyday. But I'm sorry- it's just not there for me. If I try, I can find it in theory. I can understand the zen of picking up megablocks. But that's sort of an oxymoron isn't it? Transcendence is not about understanding. It is a state of being. Transcendence IS. Transcendence can be found in the dust motes dancing in a sunbeam, but only if you really see them. These days, I don't have time to see. My soul shrivels in blindness. OK, that sounds very bleak. It's not as bad as all that! Luckily, it doesn't take much for me to get a glimpse, if you will. After all, dust is pretty easy to come by in my house! And I seem to have a naturally cheerful disposition that resurfaces easily, like a cork. I have been feeling down for a few days, and I'm sure it's not totally over. But this afternoon, for a little while at least, I watched dust in a sunbeam, and I listened to the birds calling.

dinner tonight, and coping

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

dinner tonight, and coping Current mood: accomplished Mmmm. I cooked some roast lamb tonight, with sweet potatoes, carrots and peas. Delicious! I admit however, that I cheated- the lamb was pre-seasoned and ready to go, courtesy of Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's is like a much smaller, more selective and somewhat cheaper Whole Foods. They are new to the Atlanta area, and I went for the first time yesterday. I'll definitely go back, though only for select things- most of my shopping list will still have to be found at Publix or Kroger. Anyhow tonight I have enjoyed a lovely meal and the boys at least ate a few bites. (They've been picky lately). Now I am peacefully typing, sipping an Old Rasputin stout and nibbling Drunken Goat cheese. (delicacies left from holiday entertaining). YUM! The boys are watching Shrek. Poor Mr Sweetcheeks has some sort of virus, and I am keeping my fingers crossed that the rest of us don't get it. In the meantime he is cranky and feverish, poor kiddo. Still, it's quiet and I am relishing what peace I can find. I need it, after yesterday and last (sleepless) night with Sweetcheeks. You know, I have really had to relearn my stress-reducing coping mechanisms lately. I remember when I was younger and dealing with children, I was always so patient- I even admired their boundless energy, enthusiasm, experimentation and endless inquiry. It was fun! My childrearing philosophy requires adults to be patient with these tendencies in children, and even to encourage them. (within reason). This is how children figure out the world, how they build brain cells and learn how to interact with other people. It is how they build themselves into well rounded, functioning human beings. However. The reality has often been that my stretched, frazzled nerves simply can't take one more mess, one more question, one more demand. They are only being children- reasonably good children at that- but sometimes, it's all I can do not to scream. I have had to conciously remind myself to tune them out for a few seconds, close my eyes and breathe deep. I have to feel my connection with the Earth, remove myself from the immediate situation and conciously relax my face, neck and shoulders. I have to visualize my miniscule spot in the universe (there is a bumper sticker I bring to mind at these moments, that pictures the whole galaxy with a tiny arrow pointing to one itty bitty spot- it says, "You are here"). I may be the center of my own universe, but in the greater scheme of things my daily struggles will ultimately mean little. I can accomplish more by remaining peaceful than I can in getting stressed out. It just takes specific, careful effort to enact that belief in my daily life. I have sometimes been accused of being cold, uncaring and unconcerned with key things in life. I do not worry about things I cannot change, therefore sometimes it seems I am far too laissez-faire about important matters. There may be truth to this, for sure. (It's not always clear what we have power to change, and what we don't). However. I find that when I try to take things more seriously, I get so scattered and stressed out that I have difficulty functioning. I try to strike the balance so that I remain calm and flexible, while still taking control of what I can and being proactive for positive change. It's not always clear how best to do that, but I do what I can.

the demons that drive

Monday, June 26, 2006

the demons that drive Current mood: frustrated The other evening we were talking about perpetual discontent. Discontent that, no matter how good things get for you, still lurks indestructibly beneath the joy and laughter. The nagging feeling that things still aren't right, no matter how good you know they are. And the realization that the discontent will never go away. It's sort of bitter to realize that things never really will be right. The trick however, is to learn that this discontent (though negative) is not bad. Without discontent of one kind or another, there would never be any progress. Those insatiable demons inside us are what drive innovation and forward movement in our lives. Without them we stagnate in comfort and stationary contentment. Face it- change is hard, no matter how desired or positive it may be. It's hard to leave your comfort zone. We need negative emotions to drive us forward, much as a coach driver cracks the whip to drive the horses on. Let your discontent drive you. (Just don't give it full reign in your life, or it is likely to drive you straight into a ditch.) Be sure you choose your direction. Think of it as just another example of yin and yang, that beautiful balance of positive/negative, white/black. We need the balance. It's unwise to try and eliminate the "darker", more negative impulses in our life. Acknowledge the demons, recognize that they are there to stay, and then use them to accomplish your positive goals. Take that fire and create, always striving to be better than you are now- but don't forget to always count your blessings as well. Balance in all things. Just a ramble that was rumbling 'round my head. And incidentally, today was one HELL of a day. Brings new meaning to the concept if being "star crossed". How damnably frustrating. Glad it's over.

lessons in recentering

Friday, November 11, 2005

lessons in recentering Current mood: thoughtful Thinking about yoga in my last blog got me thinking about how in some ways, I have lost myself within my parenting role. It's a very easy mistake to make, and one I need to work on correcting. If I allow my individual self to be lost within the greater context of my family, then I will lose the very foundation I need in order to support my loved ones. It's extremely important to recenter occasionally, and recognize that I am an individual with my own interests and needs. This probably sounds obvious and simple to achieve, but really it can be quite difficult. A young child (especially an infant) is an extension of the parent (especially the mom) in so many ways- I realized with a bit of a shock one day that I am simply no longer one person. I cannot do things I might otherwise do, because I have this little being who is so dependant on my presence. The effects range from the very simple (like not being able to take a shower) to the obvious (I cannot drop everything and leave for a big trip, and I cannot go motorcycle riding all day) to the profound (even though the dependence will lessen and I will resume many things, I will NEVER truly be just one individual person ever again). Because this is true, finding ways to reconnect with the individual me is a challenge. I imagine other people experience this sort of thing in different ways, as well. Many people lose themselves to their work, for instance. Which makes me wonder how much of the dependence is illusory, and how much truly necessary. Often when people are so caught up in work that they lose themselves to it, the gaps they are trying to fill are not as important as they seem. A balance is crucial to a fulfilling life, and sometimes you have to shift or jettison a few things to make everything work in harmony. The trick is figuring out what can go, what must stay, and what can be moved. Is this or that as important as it seems, or is it really sleight of hand? Keeping a sense of perspective and being objective will help make the balancing act as effortless as possible. In my case, it will be mostly about time, habit and help. Finding the balance will free up the time I need for recentering- for yoga for instance, or meditation or painting or hiking- because I'll know what to shift and how. Habit is an important one, and a big hurdle for me. I can have all the great intentions in the world, and even get started in the right direction, but if I do not make it habit I will not stick with it. I have to make yoga a standard part of my routine if I want to keep it in my life. And finally I will probably need help- which is another stumbling block in my case. I am a self sufficient sort of person, and asking for help does not come naturally to me- it feels foreign. I have to make it a habit too, before I can make use of the skill to help me form other positive habits in my life! Ah well, baby steps will get me there. At least I am workking towards my goal right now- simply by keeping up with a blog, I am allowing myself time to relax and think my own thoughts for awhile. It's a step in the right direction- and hopefully, it's habit-forming! :)