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.

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?

Moontime

This post may be, by nature, a TMI sort of endeavor. (Too Much Information). If it is, feel free to duck out and come back another day for our regularly scheduled programming.

See, I'm on my moontime right now, and it has sparked some menstrual musings. This is largely because I am still adjusting to the current nature of my periods, which came back to me quite different than they'd been before my last child. I'm pretty sure this is due to my IUD, which I knew would likely cause heavier periods and increased cramping. My moontime had always been pretty easy to deal with- no more than 4 or 5 days of light flow, very few cramps and seldom any hint of hormonal mood swings. It never slowed me down. When they returned after Babyman, it was a completely different experience- no fewer than 5 days of heavy flow, plus 2 to 4 days of lighter flow, very strong cramping, pain in my lower back, all preceded by depression and headaches. It has certainly required a bit of getting used to. (I warned you about TMI!)

Despite the wonderful arrival of Spring outside, and everything I am caught up in that needs my attention, I have found myself staring into the dishwater, listening to the boys argue, and wishing quite fervently that I was part of a culture that subscribed to the practice of a red tent, moon lodge, or similar haven for menstruating women.

(I feel a need to note here, that I have not yet had the chance to enjoy reading The Red Tent, nor do I actually know very much at all about moon lodges and such. I think I will be reading up on them! For the sake of this post, I see a red tent or a moon lodge as a place apart from the rest of the community where women had to stay during their moontime, in the sole company of other women also menstruating. Childbirth with all of its mysteries was also relegated to the red tent, attended by the doulas and midwives of the community.)

Back when I enjoyed such light, convenient little periods, I didn't really understand this idea of a red tent or moon lodge. It seemed demeaning, to be shut away from society just because it was your body's time to bleed. I saw it as an expression of a society's disgust and distrust of women and menstruation.

Now, I see it quite differently. My moontime is not so easily ignored, anymore. It steps right up, takes hold of my body, and bends me to its will. "Do not pretend I am not here!" she says, "You stop what you are doing and you listen to me! I am powerful, do you see? Do you feel the moon's pull on your body? Do you feel your own power? You stop that other stuff now, and listen to the moon instead." I wish for a retreat from my other responsibilities, a separate place where I could curl up in bed to read, where I could write, where I could think and talk with other women. A place to focus on myself and my body. A place to meditate. I see now, that a red tent or moon lodge was probably just this sort of needed retreat. It served a great purpose for the women of the community- far from being demeaning, the whole idea is empowering! A place to embrace your moontime, to care for it, even to revel in it! A true retreat.

I can dream, anyway. ;)




* * *

As a sort of aside, my musings on the idea of a red tent have led me to some different thoughts- just as I used to see the red tent as demeaning to women, might it also be possible that I am misinterpreting other cultural practices with regard to women? I'm not sure if I am yet ready to accept the practice of a mandatory burka (for instance), but perhaps I need to keep a more open mind about some things that strike me initially as overly patriarchal or distrustful of women. I guess, for me, the difference would lie in choice. . . what happens if a woman wishes to go against the cultural norm?

Hmm. . .

My broken window

I have an ache, and it has nothing to do with the bruise on my knee, my ever-sore back or even my head. It's a chronic pain that gets worse the nicer the weather is. It's an ache deep in my soul, and I've been feeling it worse than usual lately.

I want to go riding.

I want to pull on my leather jacket, strap on my Arai helmet and hop up behind my beloved for a badass day on the K1200RS. I want to head for the mountain roads. I want to go motorcycle riding.

There is something indescribable about a really great ride- something so life-affirming for me, that it's absence is like a broken windowpane, a void where something should be. I feel this lack painfully.

I have been pregnant and/or nursing nonstop for 6 years as of this month. 6 years solid. Now, that's not to say I haven't been on the bike in that long- oh no, in fact each of our three boys has enjoyed a motorcycle ride in-utero. (Yes, it was OK with my doctor- it was very early in the pregnancy.) But I've been lucky to get in just one ride per year, IF that. Even now that it's getting (slightly) easier for us to get away sans children once in awhile, it's hard to be totally comfortable on the bike anymore. What if something happened to us? It only takes one oncoming idiot to cross into our lane, or to turn in front of us in an intersection, and suddenly both our boys' parents could be gone. Billy is an experienced driver, and I have full confidence in him (or else I wouldn't ride at all), but let's face it- an accident on the bike is less forgiving than one in a car. It's a very scary thought, which hangs over us anytime we do manage to get away to ride the roads.

Of course, everything we do carries risks and benefits. If we never risked our lives, we'd never try anything- certainly we'd never have had most of the experiences that have enriched my life and shaped my being. Motorcycle riding brings me such joy and satisfaction, it seems illogical to shy away from it because we fear a remote possibility. But risk assessment takes on a whole new meaning when it's your children's future in the balance. Of course, we worry. And are less likely to arrange for a motorcycle day together.

I weep for riding. Driving the minivan to or from errands on a gorgeous day, the sight of a couple on a good fast bike can literally knock the breath out of me. My sudden longing is a physical pang. Ouch. I wish I were riding.

Unlocking Words

Blessed Samhain/Happy Halloween to you!
Have fun this evening, take care and take a moment to remember your loved ones who have already crossed the veil.

Most years Billy takes the boys trick-or-treating, while I (with any littleuns too young) stay home and pass candy to the ghosts and ghoulies who come knocking. I love passing out candy in my neighborhood- in some ways, it seems like trick-or-treating is a dying practice, and it makes me feel good too keep it alive. Plus, I feel neighborly.

This year however, I will be leaving the lame bowl of candy on the front porch, because Billy and the boys will be trick-or-treating with their cousins, while I drive to a friend's for some Samhain celebration with only ONE child to be responsible for. Hopefully I'll get some relatively uninterrupted adult conversation, and actually be able to reflect on the turning of the year as it draws to a close, and we enter the fallow time.

* * *

Meanwhile, (perhaps suitably, for this time of year) I have put down the enlightening non-fiction book I've been slogging through, and instead picked up The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice.

Surprisingly, I've never read any of Anne Rice's books before. So far, I am really enjoying this story. It is drawing me in, and opening windows in my brain that I hadn't noticed had shut.

You see, it's been quite awhile since I read a fiction book for pleasure, and I'd not realized how much I depend on it to keep a creative spark alive inside my head. I'm already aware that I need to write regularly to keep certain neurons firing, to make those verbal connections that give shape and form to the tides of my experience. But until recently, I hadn't really understood how very much reading for pleasure can have the same effect. In fact, I'm beginning to understand that neither can work effectively alone- I need to both immerse myself in the words of others, AND consciously create my own, if I wish to call the muse.

Since delving into Interview With the Vampire I've gradually noticed words coming to me unbidden, causing reflection. . . The words have nothing to do with vampires; they are merely subconscious thoughts and feelings that through words, are given the gift of life. Words give them substance and allow me to recognize them from the formless void within.

One thought that surfaced was a better understanding of my oddly polar existence as a mother: I am nothing before my children- a vast gulf of emptiness, their life force driving away my Self. Yet at the very same time I am everything, the whole universe to them, there is no one more important than I. I am a mote of dust in a forgotten corner; I am omniscient Goddess. All and nothing. It's a condition not unique to motherhood; indeed we are all a mysterious composite of dirt and divinity- but the utter surrender of motherhood has brought a deeper understanding to my contradictory position.

Or words unbidden in reaction as I step outside on a cool clear evening: reflections on the brittle beauty of crystal clear night air, a velvet dark sky and shining stars. What is it about a clear autumn night that calls to me, coaxes me like a lover, excites my senses? How can something so dark and cold stoke such fires in my soul?

Words, words, words. What would I do without them? How could I understand my own urgings? I'd be a painter without paint, a baker with no flour. A sunset void of colors. Tonight I am grateful for inspired words, unbidden.

Vocabulary

ma⋅laise
   /mæˈleɪz, -mə-; Fr. maˈlɛz/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [ma-leyz, -muh-; Fr. ma-lez]
–noun
1. a condition of general bodily weakness or discomfort, often marking the onset of a disease.
2. a vague or unfocused feeling of mental uneasiness, lethargy, or discomfort.
Origin:
1760–70; < F, OF; see mal-, ease



en⋅nui
   /ɑnˈwi, ˈɑnwi; Fr. ɑ̃ˈnwi/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [ahn-wee, ahn-wee; Fr. ahn-nwee]
–noun
a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom: The endless lecture produced an unbearable ennui.
Origin:
1660–70; < F: boredom; OF enui displeasure; see annoy



dis·re·garded (dĭs'rĭ-gärd') Pronunciation Key
dis·re·gard, dis·re·gard·ing, dis·re·gards
-adjective
1. To not be heeded, not be paid attention; ignored.
2. To be treated without proper respect or attentiveness.



las⋅si⋅tude
   /ˈlæsɪˌtud, -ˌtyud/ [las-i-tood, -tyood]
–noun
1. weariness of body or mind from strain, oppressive climate, etc.; lack of energy; listlessness; languor.
2. a condition of indolent indifference: the pleasant lassitude of the warm summer afternoon.
Origin:
1525–35; < L lassitūdō weariness, equiv. to lass(us) weary + -i- -i- + -tūdō -tude


* * *

wet blanket

noun, informal
someone who spoils the pleasure of others [syn: spoilsport]

(sorry)

* * *

http://www.dictionary.com

Moon Moment

Hurrying to and fro, packing away leftovers, collecting toys, stray socks, and dirty glasses, stepping lightly over the dogs and the baby to drop everything in it's rightful place. Conversation, squeals and laughter fill the small space of my sister-in-law's house. Is everything ready to go? I glance around. There's nothing left for me to do, at least until we are ready to walk out the door. No one is paying any attention to me. The children are all attended to. My husband is in the middle of a story, sure to be occupied for a few more minutes at least.

I slip quietly through the sliding glass door, stepping out into the dark windy night.

The air is fresh, and just beginning to smell of dry grass and autumn leaves. Even though it's October, the night is warm and pleasant. The gentle breeze suddenly gusts, gleefully whipping the flower beds and making all the windchimes sound. I steal down the back steps and find my way along the rock path to the firepit's clearing. There, I plant my feet firmly and tip my head back to the sky. The moon's glow is just visible behind the racing clouds, perfectly centered in my vision with the waving pines all around. Stiff with tension, I stretch to loosen my muscles. As the wind whips higher, I throw my arms out and breathe deep, deeper. Suddenly the moon explodes through a break in the clouds, shimmering silver and blue. It's nearly full, and glorious. I drink in the sight. Feelings of peace, awe and gratitude mingle with sadness and longing. I want to stay right there, stay and listen to the wind in the trees. Stay to watch the clouds. Stay to talk to the moon. To feel the earth beneath my feet and remember what it's like to notice the subtle beauty. "I miss you", I tell the moon. I do miss her. I miss the quiet connection. I miss my spiritual self. I watch as the clouds hurry to veil her brilliance again. The wind whispers to me that I'm probably wanted inside. Still, I linger. The beauty of the night is a balm for me, a sip from the chalice to keep me going a while longer. Finally I turn back toward the house. As I near the door I can see the boys inside, bouncing and talking and hanging off their uncle. The shouts and laughter are audible long before I open the door. With a last longing look, I slip back into light and noise, love and chaos.

Until next time, moon. Until next time.

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 free mommy, and thumbs-up to Dove!

All my big boys are off on a hiking trip, so it's just Babyman and I. I am so proud of Littleman- he broke his hiking record, again! He did 5 1/2 miles, all on his own power, carrying a significant (for him) packload, on a tough trail. What a trooper! Mr. Sweetcheeks rode in the carrier, so let's not forget Billy's accomplishment, either! Hey, it's been a long while since our backpacking days. Everyone did great, I hear.

As for me, I have not been having the blissful time I'd hoped for. Mostly this is because Babyman can be extremely demanding, these days. I'm hoping this is just teething gone wild, or something. In other words, I hope he gets over it soon! But I did manage a few things I don't usually get to do:
- I actually sat down and watched a movie, beginning to end, uninterrupted, and even saw the special features too! OK so the movie was Ratatouille, but I enjoyed it! (Stop laughing, it's a good movie!) LOL.
- I made a big blender-full of fruit smoothie, and drank it all myself. Yum.
- I caught up on some e-mails and some blog reading, and even fulfilled some moderator duties on a Yahoo group I'm supposed to help out with. I also entered a contest to win Photoshop software, but alas I was not the chosen one. :(
- I emptied the dishwasher, loaded it and ran it, all in one go!
- I went to Target and completed some shopping uninterrupted, at a leisurely pace.
- I took a nice hot shower. Ahhhh.
- I finally got around to restringing the crystal that I like to hang from my car's rearview mirror, and now it swings prettily when I drive the van.
- and tonight when I suddenly had a hankering for an Arby's jamocha shake, I just hopped in the car with Babyman and went to get one. What freedom!

* * *

I have been meaning to post about a viral marketing campaign that Dove (soap company) is doing on YouTube. Basically, I love it! I think these are really well done and have a great message. Yes, Dove's parent company has other marketing campaigns that totally undermine the message in Dove's advertising (such as ads for Axe body spray) and yes, the primary driving force behind the ads is still just good old money. BUT. I think it's great that these are out there, and I think they are well done. Anyway, here are just a few:







Thumbs up, Dove!

I did it!

So, I did it! I cut my hair! (Or rather, the hairstylist did). For those of you that don't know, this was a big step for me. I had never cut my hair. I had the split ends trimmed off, but that was all. For as long as I can remember, my hair has been very long. Usually down to my butt. I liked it that way. However, as I noted in a recent post, I was ready for something different.

Here you can get an idea of how long it was:

(photo by Kenny of The Frog Hollow Company)

And here you can see what I generally looked like all the time, because my hair was always pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of my way:

(photo by Billy)

And here (drumroll please) is the new look!
(My friend took this with her phone- I don't have better pics yet):

(photo by Shelley)

So, what do you think? (Fishing, fishing. . . compliments? LOL!)

I am very pleased. People ask me if I feel a lot lighter, and oddly I don't. I don't particularly notice a difference in the weight of my hair. I DO notice the movement. My hair seems alive now, swishing and bouncing and moving around. I'm really not used to that. I rather like it- something about it makes me feel flirty, or more electric. I guess that will fade as I get used to it, but for now it's really cool. :) I like how I don't have to pull my hair back to do things- even if it falls in my face a little, it's at least not falling into whatever I am doing (like, changing a diaper for instance!) It was a good change.

I am also pleased because I was able to donate a significant ponytail to Locks of Love! Locks of Love is a charity that makes quality hairpieces for low-income kids who have medical hair loss. They take donations of (clean, dry, unbleached) ponytails that are at least 10" long. Mine was 19"! I hope it helps someone in need feel as pretty as my new hairstyle makes me feel. :)

* * *

I've been slacking with the thumbs-ups a bit, haven't I? Well today's is obviously Locks of Love. But it could also definitely go to Patti, the uber-talented hairstylist! But I don't actually know her last name, so I'm afraid this isn't a very effective shout-out. I'll do better next time.

And for another, here's a sweet little movie of sorts. Enjoy!

Hair, will- and yes, rosemary!

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Hair, will- and yes, rosemary!
Current mood: catalyzed


I think I am going to cut my hair.

No no, hear me out!

I would really like to be able to wear my hair down more, without it getting ridiculously tangled up in everything I am doing. I'd like my hair to frame my face, instead of being pulled back in my ever-present ponytail, doing nothing for my appearance. I'd like to do something to improve my daily appearance, because these days I feel like I always look like hell. (Lack of sleep, ill-fitting clothes, infrequent showers and a frazzled demeanor can do that to a gal). And, (dare I say it?) I think I'd just like a little change. What good is all this romantic, luxuriantly long hair if all I can do with it is keep it out of the way?

I went and asked a really good hairdresser's advice today, and she gave me some good ideas. I think I'm going to make arrangements for an appointment soon- something that will take some planning, as I'll have to find a sitter for the two older boys and an adult to tag along and hold Babyman. (Or some other suitable arrangement). And, don't worry! It will still be long by most standards.

And it will always grow back. :)

* * *

Today Billy and I finally got around to working on our will. This is something we've been meaning to do for awhile- anyone with kids really should have one. Most people can do it themselves with online forms and websites like www.legalzoom.com. We ultimately decided to consult a lawyer, and I think that was the right decision for us. I am looking forward to having it all squared away- it is one more checkbox in my mental list of financial planning goals. Baby steps. Besides, it's no fun to have to think about what would happen if both Billy and I were to bite it too soon. My precious children. . . Even though we have wonderful family who would be ready to help, it's chilling to imagine our plans having to be enacted. As one family member added after agreeing to be an executor, "Drive safe!"

If you haven't made your own will, go ahead and do it. It can make sure your wishes are carried out, it can go a long way toward protecting your assets (and we're not just talking rich folk here; we all have some assets), it makes things much easier on your surviving family as they tie up your affairs, and it ensures that any children you have will be entrusted to the guardian of your choice, rather than someone of the state's choosing. Pretty important stuff.

OK, off my soapbox.

* * *

Today's thumbs-up is for gelato! Specifically, Paolo's Gelato in Atlanta. Still more specifically, for Paolo's rosemary gelato. Yes, rosemary. Ooooooh, Oh. So. Good. ~drool~

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).

Was that really me?

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Was that really me?
Current mood: wistful

I was just thinking about a song on my iPod. Most of you aren't familiar with it; it's called That's When I Knew, and it's something Billy wrote about our relationship once upon a time. (A number of jokes about HOW very long ago did occur to me, but I'll spare you!) :) Of course, it actually wasn't THAT long ago really. . . and yet, hearing it made me sad. The song references me a number of times- things I said or did, and as I listened I realized that I never get the chance to say or do any of them these days. As a matter of fact, that person the song is for hardly seems to be me at all, at least on the outside. (And I'm losing it on the inside, too I think).

The sorts of things I'm talking about are lighthearted, spontaneous, creative and relaxed. I don't feel like I'm any of these things, today. And sitting here just now, an irony occurred to me: those are some of the key elements that I always thought would help me to be an excellent Mom, yet it is mothering that seems to have stripped them right out of me! Now, doesn't that bugger all?

I'm not sitting here all depressed about this- it seems a bit inevitable, after all- but I DO so hope that matters will improve. I'll have to consider it, and see what I can do to bring a little bit of "me" back into my interactions with my kids. If they could see me as Billy once did, I doubt they'd recognize their own mama. I miss the magic in my every day.

* * *
One of the things I used to do a lot was blowing bubbles. I had bubble solution on hand at all times (almost). I loved to climb high in a tree and sit there, blowing bubbles and watching them dance away. I remember long, lovely afternoons with Billy, listening to albums (and CDs too, but a lot of good old vinyl) while we sat at his bedroom window, talking and blowing bubbles into the warm Georgia breeze. I also had a Klutz Bubble Thing, which we carted to Stone Mountain a number of times, and wowed passers-by with my monstrous bubble prowess. I have had so much fun with this thing over the years. I'd lost mine, and only recently replaced it- so, soon I do at least plan on introducing my own boys to this bit of soapy magic. Therefore, today's thumbs-up is for the Klutz Bubble Thing- here it is packaged with the book for more fun. Best used on humid days, so start dreaming of Spring and Summer. Enjoy!

Snowy wishes, and the silent scream

Wednesday, January 16, 2008


Snowy wishes, and the silent scream
Current mood: stressed

Yay, snow! So pretty. . .I hope it doesn't get washed away before we awake in the morning. At the very least, it would be nice to have an excuse to sleep in rather than take Sweetcheeks to Montessori. OK, yes I admit: I am (guiltily) hoping they'll cancel school tomorrow. Even though I'm sure I'd have no problem driving there. And it would be better all around for Sweetcheeks to go to school. But I. Don't. Want. To get up early. And neither does Billy, which becomes a problem if Babyman demands my attention when Sweetcheeks has to be getting ready for school. Urgh. SO it would be nice if the ice does me a favor and sticks around just long enough for a snow day at school. We'll see.

Today was rough. Recently I was trying to explain to someone why it is that I have difficulty figuring out what I want, when asked. Decisions like what do I want to eat, would I rather do this or that, where would I like to go first. . . if the decision really is as simple as what I want, rather than what needs to be done, then I am at a loss. I just can't decide. The reason is, I realized, that I am just out of practice at meeting my own desires. Very out of practice. Quite simply, my entire life is about what other people want. (and need). Everything I think, decide and do is based on others. Just about everything. It's sort of a depressing thought. And when I do get the opportunity to make a decision for myself, it's just too much trouble. I am devoting all my brainpower toward everything else I am responsible for; don't trouble me with petty choices. Sigh.

Sometimes today the chaos around me would just morph into this wall of sound, surrounding me on all sides, moving and changing but losing all sense and time, and I'd be lost, penned there in the center, thinking that if I opened my mouth to scream nothing would come out.

But it wouldn't last long- with an effort I'd focus back in on some aspect of the chaos that needed my attention, and the juggling act would begin anew.

I am falling asleep at the keyboard. Good night!

Brr, Happy New Year, knitting and boring you to tears

Wednesday, January 02, 2008


Brr, Happy New Year, knitting and boring you to tears
Current mood: cold

Whew, here I am! I am actually blogging today! (Aren't all the new internet verbs fun? "google", "IM", "blog". . .) It's a good day to sit inside and blog- the high temperature today is little more than freezing, and it's WINDY. Around here, this is polar bear weather. Unbearable weather. COOOOLD weather. And without any snow to make it fun, I'll just as soon stay inside, thank-you-very-much.

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you had a nice celebration and are looking forward to a joyful, prosperous 2008. Billy and the boys played at the park, burned sparklers after dark, watched ET and stayed up too late. I was nursing at midnight, and Billy was changing a diaper. Cheers! LOL. We all had a toast and went to bed.

One of my Christmas gifts this year was 6 skeins of lusciously soft, colorful yarn. I thought of many different things I could make, but nothing seemed right- I wanted to do a bigger project like a sweater for the boys, but the colorway is really a bit girly for them. I've never knit a project larger than that- when I made a sweater for Littleman, it seemed like it would never end. (I did finish it though, and it turned out pretty nice). After much pondering and flipping through pattern books, I've decided to be brave: I am attempting a full, adult-size sweater for myself! I only hope I actually finish it before next winter rolls around. :) In the meantime, it sure feels nice to knit, especially with this luscious soft wool blend. Mmmm.

Yesterday we started the new year with biscuits, apple cake and hot chocolate for breakfast (a special treat for the boys!) and then we went out to visit some good friends and share the traditional New Year's Day meal of black-eye peas (for luck/protection) and collard greens (for money). Since I didn't have time to purchase and cook them myself, we swung by Whole Foods and bought our dinner off the hot bar. Yummmy! With a few other things I bought, and some goodies from our hosts, it was a delicious spread. Littleman and Sweetcheeks had a wild fun time playing with our friends' boys, who are all very close in age. It felt great to hang out with adults! Though I must admit, I do have a tendency to run my mouth on and on in these situations. . . I've always been rather talkative, but I think I'm worse since having kids. I read a blog post (at http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/ ) in which the author (a mom to six kids!) was on a trip to NY without her family, and called her husband to see how he was faring with the kids. Her husband yammered on and on about some minor detail at home, finally thinking to ask how her trip was going. She wondered if she did that to others when she'd been cooped up at home caring for the kids, and realized the answer is a resounding YES. Well, I can certainly relate. I'll have to remember in the future that unfortunately, most details of my day-to-day existence are not very interesting. Better to leave them unsaid in adult conversation! Listening makes for better conversation anyway. Oh, well. So in hindsight, if y'all read this, sorry for yammering on about myself most of the evening! LOL. Y'all are so sweet! We had a great time.

Right now, the boys are napping (babyman too, on my chest). We have a birthday party to attend this evening, which officially begins in 1/2 hour. I need to start getting ready, so that we have a prayer of leaving quickly once the boys awake. We'll see how that goes!

Thumbs-up today to the web site www.knittingpatterncentral.com, a one-stop shop for free knitting patterns! Look up whatever you're interested in and find a variety of free patterns. There's a crochet pattern site, too!

the waiting game

Thursday, November 08, 2007

the waiting game Current mood: restless I feel suspended in an odd cycle of waiting. There are quite a few things I could be doing to have the house more ready for baby's arrival, but I feel so unmotivated- I'd really rather be holding my new baby. I am very physically uncomfortable, tired of being pregnant, SO SICK of heartburn, and tired of the uncertainty of when this baby will come and how we'll manage the details once labor begins. I manage to take care of the other two boys, and am keeping up with dishes and laundry (as well as I ever can, anyway), and keeping up with their few school/gym classes and with my prenatal appointments. That's just about all I have any interest in doing. Sometimes I feel like I am sleepwalking, or stuck waiting for someone who is long overdue (which he is not, yet). I am tired and rather irritable. I find myself wasting time when I could be cleaning, organizing or just giving my older boys some focused attention. But I am not focused- I am lamentably spaced out. I could also try being more active, in hopes of jumpstarting labor. While I am definitely more active now than I was when I was "taking it easy", I find that I tire so readily, it's difficult to get a long walk or anything similar in. I can say I've tried a few other natural inducers, including raspberry leaf tea and eggplant parmesagn (yummy). LOL! :) Don't get me wrong- there are definitely positive signs that babyman will be arriving before long. My contractions are increasing, even if they don't stay regular yet. And for those of you who know what I'm talking about, I've gone from 1-2 cm (on Halloween) to 3-4 cm (last Wednesday). I was so excited to hear that! My body is definitely gearing up. I'm just feeling so impatient! (Ha- I almost typed "inpatient"- Freudian slip, I guess). I did install the baby carseat today, which then necessitated a bit of musical carseats in the van. I think I've hit on a configuration that will work. Come on babyman, come on! :) I am in desperate need of some antacids. Off I go.

grumpy me

September 22, 2007 - Saturday

grumpy me Current mood: cranky I'm sitting on our back deck, watching the kiddos play in the sand and listening to neighborhood dogs, our air conditioner and someone hammering. Oh, and an airplane overhead. And now a lawn mower. I thought about writing a descriptive entry, noting the way that Fall has begun to gild the sunlight ever so slightly, hinting at glorious October days to come. Writing about the scrape of sand shovels, the citronella scent of our bug repellent and about how lovely it's been to be able to leave the windows open at night. About the first leaves blushing red outside our bedroom window. However, I have a grinding, splitting headache. Though I'm not sleepy, I'm feeling exhausted and I didn't get a nap today because by the time I'd finished some office work Sweetcheeks woke up early. I'm feeling really underappreciated, though in most cases that's just me. I still don't know what I'm going to feed the boys for dinner. The dogs stink so bad it makes your eyes water, but I'm not really supposed to be lifting 40 - 50 lbs of canine and doing any vigorous washing. Increasingly, I am feeling the physical strain of carrying this baby, and I am well aware that I'm supposed to listen to my body and not overdo things. Just doing the dishes and laundry, cooking (what minimal amount I am doing these days) changing diapers and running errands absolutely wears me out. It's all I can do to keep the house (somewhat) livable, keep the kids clean and healthy, feed and water the pets, pay the bills, keep up with family, entertain the kids. . . the more I think about it the more I think of things I'm still doing. . . it's honestly making me more tired just sitting here thinking about it, so I'll quit there. . . Anyway I think I'm just feeling tired and grouchy. So there. ;)

old times, and harbringers of the season

August 28, 2007 - Tuesday

old times, and harbringers of the season Current mood: nostalgic Wow, it's rather like old times here! (Except I am pregnant, typing on a laptop connected wirelessly to the internet, I drive a minivan, am waiting for my 3 1/2 year old to wake up and I don't actually live here anymore. . . yeah. . .) But it really is a deja vu experience. I'm at the studio, hanging out in the control room while Billy works, listening while I quietly do my own thing here on the couch. (Used to be reading a book or knitting, these days I check my email and blog. . . hmm. . .) I've done a fair bit of the "carseat shuffle" today: I installed Littleman's seat in the van, swapped cars with Billy, swapped back, removed Littleman's seat from the van, removed Sweetcheeks' seat and installed it in my Mom's car, and soon I should put Littleman's seat back into the van. All this is due to a series of appointments, and fun activities for the boys. Anyhow Littleman has been here at the studio today, and he finally fell asleep for a much-needed nap just before I arrived to pick him up. Sweetcheeks is staying the night with my Mom, so I am free to veg out here on the studio couch until Littleman finally wakes up. It's pretty nice, actually. (Not to mention I am not wearing myself out doing dishes or laundry right now!) I get to see my husband. :) And I get to talk to adults. Cool. * * * Lately I have begun hearing the geese, again. Almost as soon as the rain started showing up and the 100 degree+ temperatures calmed down a bit, I started hearing them outside in the evenings. Sunday evening I saw a big, beautiful V-formation of honking geese sail across the sky. Then today, on my way to the studio from my prenatal appointment I stopped at Starbucks- and discovered that the pumpkin spice latte has returned. Geese, pumpkin spice lattes, and temps in the 80s. . . sure signs that Fall is right around the corner. Rejoice!

The news is in-

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

The news is in- Current mood: sad Ladies and gentlemen, the news is in- and, Yes my friends, ANOTHER boy! I am officially and irrevocably outnumbered. I won't lie- I am SOOO sad that I won't be having a girl. We are definitely not planning on having any more kids, so I'm afraid little Lily is just not to be. (Now we have to decide on another boy name!! Uh oh!) Now, before you start telling me all about how wonderful this little guy is going to be, believe me I KNOW! He is going to be fantastic, just like my other gorgeous sweet boys. And everything else at the ultrasound visit today looks perfect- you couldn't ask for better. I already feel selfish and silly for being disappointed, so there's no need to remind me that things could be worse- I am SO grateful for healthy babies. (Unelievably so- I think of it often). I feel ridiculous for being so sad. Luckily I know I'll get over it! I'm glad we found out the sex early, so I have time to work through this now and our new babyman's arrival won't be marred by any silly regrets. In the meantime, I guess this is good for our wallet because I was so looking forward to buying a few girly things. . . and now I don't need to. :) So I guess that's it for now. . . I'm feeling a bit better about it all than I was this morning. Maybe I can find a couple super adorable adventurous little boy things to buy, for some minor retail therapy. ;) LOL!