Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Creating
It's been awhile since I've been creative. I didn't even know I missed it. The part of my brain that was resting, un-stimulated was so quiet that I had forgotten it was there.
Then a few things happened right in a row that shook the sleepy dust off of my left brain, and it awoke with a hunger! People that I know, women, were experiencing the same thing. They wanted, no they needed to create. So we got together and did it- created.
Glue, scissors, paper, canvas, paints.
Tissue paper, paint brushes, photos, glitter, tape.
All came together to form art work for baby's nurseries, kid's rooms, wall decor and memory boxes. Ideas and colors, chit chat and laughter flowed.
This sort of gathering has happened four times for me in the past three weeks. I have art work that I adore and have no where to put it. Even such, I want to make more. My brain in pulsing with ideas and inspiration. I leave these gatherings feeling happy, light and fulfilled. I suppose I have missed social interaction. It's rejuvenating, whether I create something super cool or not.
Then a few things happened right in a row that shook the sleepy dust off of my left brain, and it awoke with a hunger! People that I know, women, were experiencing the same thing. They wanted, no they needed to create. So we got together and did it- created.
Glue, scissors, paper, canvas, paints.
Tissue paper, paint brushes, photos, glitter, tape.
All came together to form art work for baby's nurseries, kid's rooms, wall decor and memory boxes. Ideas and colors, chit chat and laughter flowed.
This sort of gathering has happened four times for me in the past three weeks. I have art work that I adore and have no where to put it. Even such, I want to make more. My brain in pulsing with ideas and inspiration. I leave these gatherings feeling happy, light and fulfilled. I suppose I have missed social interaction. It's rejuvenating, whether I create something super cool or not.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Momma Trauma
Moments like this one, where my kid is in her bed, screaming "Mommy!" while coughing and choking on heavy sobs, make me wonder: what was I thinking?
I've already put her back to bed twice. I can see her on the monitor. I've decided that my methods aren't working (this is a trend for the past four nights). I can see her getting out of bed so I call to her from my spot on the couch, "Lay down Rosanna". A fresh gusto of dismay and tragedy pours out of her. She lays down and pulls the covers up. Her small body is jerking with spastic breathes and she is still crying.
I am fighting reasoning against intense momma-bear coddling that is urging me to go in there and hold her until her breathing is normal again.
This sucks.
In this moment I ask myself: what was I thinking? In a few years this upset will be small beans compared to what the world will bring to my most treasured soul. It will tear me up and require of me to make more choices that won't make my baby happy, might even make her mad at me. And it will be the best choice for her. It'll likely give me heat palpitations (like tonight is) and I'll cry myself.
I signed up for this.
Right now she's quiet. Every so often I hear a hard sniffle, one of those gasps that last for awhile after a hard cry. She's still in bed. I didn't even get up. I feel like this should be a proud moment for me.
I've already put her back to bed twice. I can see her on the monitor. I've decided that my methods aren't working (this is a trend for the past four nights). I can see her getting out of bed so I call to her from my spot on the couch, "Lay down Rosanna". A fresh gusto of dismay and tragedy pours out of her. She lays down and pulls the covers up. Her small body is jerking with spastic breathes and she is still crying.
I am fighting reasoning against intense momma-bear coddling that is urging me to go in there and hold her until her breathing is normal again.
This sucks.
In this moment I ask myself: what was I thinking? In a few years this upset will be small beans compared to what the world will bring to my most treasured soul. It will tear me up and require of me to make more choices that won't make my baby happy, might even make her mad at me. And it will be the best choice for her. It'll likely give me heat palpitations (like tonight is) and I'll cry myself.
I signed up for this.
Right now she's quiet. Every so often I hear a hard sniffle, one of those gasps that last for awhile after a hard cry. She's still in bed. I didn't even get up. I feel like this should be a proud moment for me.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Ways to love your kid
Take them outside
Show them around
Create with them
Let them be free to create
Sing songs in the bath
This is how we loved our kid today. It was amazing.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Salty wound
One of the only pieces of mail is from Kaiser. "Weird", I think, because we are no longer insured by them...or anyone for that matter. I settled on the explanation being that it's regarding Ro, since she is insured there.
Nope. It's actually for me. For "Melanie". Gee, thanks for the courtesy of spelling my name right. It's printed correctly on everything Kaiser has for me, but apparently this was too much trouble.
"We notice that your due date of 3/29/12 is fast approaching! We hope to make your experience here as lovely as possible and want to be sure you are registered at L&D and blah, blah, blah, blah"
Oh, God. Seriously? I'm hurt, angered and start to cry. My face feels hot. I call Ethan and tell him about the note. I start to lose it. I even go so far as to mock my conversation to Kaiser, "Hello! You're the ones who aborted my baby! Are you freaking kidding me?" I want them to know my hurt at their oversight. I want to curse at them and cry at them and have them feel awful.
Oh, the theatrics.
Of course, my baby wasn't aborted. My baby wasn't ever going to be a baby.
I realize, as a result of this letter I received in the mail today, that I am still very emotional about it all. I suppose I thought I had grieved and it was over. Turns out, if you have the right angle, I can get all worked up about it, all over again.
Ro starts to fuss, she bumped her head on the table. And I'm all better.
I snuggle her and we talk about what happened. I ask her if she wants to help me put away some clean clothes and she hops up, her hurt head all but healed.
Nope. It's actually for me. For "Melanie". Gee, thanks for the courtesy of spelling my name right. It's printed correctly on everything Kaiser has for me, but apparently this was too much trouble.
"We notice that your due date of 3/29/12 is fast approaching! We hope to make your experience here as lovely as possible and want to be sure you are registered at L&D and blah, blah, blah, blah"
Oh, God. Seriously? I'm hurt, angered and start to cry. My face feels hot. I call Ethan and tell him about the note. I start to lose it. I even go so far as to mock my conversation to Kaiser, "Hello! You're the ones who aborted my baby! Are you freaking kidding me?" I want them to know my hurt at their oversight. I want to curse at them and cry at them and have them feel awful.
Oh, the theatrics.
Of course, my baby wasn't aborted. My baby wasn't ever going to be a baby.
I realize, as a result of this letter I received in the mail today, that I am still very emotional about it all. I suppose I thought I had grieved and it was over. Turns out, if you have the right angle, I can get all worked up about it, all over again.
Ro starts to fuss, she bumped her head on the table. And I'm all better.
I snuggle her and we talk about what happened. I ask her if she wants to help me put away some clean clothes and she hops up, her hurt head all but healed.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
stay close to the stream
Two nights ago I became frustrated with myself. Why am I tied to my kid as she falls asleep? Am I the only Mom in America who can't just put her two year old to bed and leave the room to get on with the evening? What an injustice I have created for myself!
Today I have gotten over that screed. I somehow reconnected to myself and the innate knowingness of motherhood. It's like a stream of truth that flows from somewhere unknown. It just showed up, peaceful and patient at the same time my daughter's weight was finally rested into my arms.
The stream will never lead me astray. If I stay near it, it will nourish me and therefore my daughter. It leads me into simple and loving parenting choices. Choices that are grounded.
Moving away from it gets tricky. The forest around it is dense with everyone else's opinions and judgments. Delving deeper into society's labels and pre-determined format for child rearing only makes me anxious. I question myself and fret. I feel lost and as if I actually need more input from the outside.
Best to stay near the stream. It exists by virtue of being a mother. It doesn't actually matter if my kid can't fall asleep on her own right now. Looking outward I could get the message that I have somehow messed up. I t think I'll stop looking outward for such answers.
Why I Rock
Number One:
I cleaned up poop-bath.
Me: "What are you doing?"
Ro: (from the tub) "Hiding"
Me: "Why?" (while simultaneously thinking, "Oh, dear God, no.")
And so it was. She pooped while taking a bath. Real classy kid. And I, her awesome Mother, cleaned that sh*t up. No belittling, no scolding. Just a polite discussion on the proper place for poop....in the toilet.
Number Two:
In the span of three nights I have transitioned our kid from falling asleep with me sitting next to her, to falling asleep in her own. One melt down on the first night that lasted approximately one minute and that was it. I am mega-proud!
Number Three:
My kid sings an Adele song. Without it playing. Randomly in the kitchen. She learned this from me- shamelessly singing the song in the car, loudly and with hearty abandon.
Number Four:
My kid rocks. Therefore so do I.
BOOM.
I cleaned up poop-bath.
Me: "What are you doing?"
Ro: (from the tub) "Hiding"
Me: "Why?" (while simultaneously thinking, "Oh, dear God, no.")
And so it was. She pooped while taking a bath. Real classy kid. And I, her awesome Mother, cleaned that sh*t up. No belittling, no scolding. Just a polite discussion on the proper place for poop....in the toilet.
Number Two:
In the span of three nights I have transitioned our kid from falling asleep with me sitting next to her, to falling asleep in her own. One melt down on the first night that lasted approximately one minute and that was it. I am mega-proud!
Number Three:
My kid sings an Adele song. Without it playing. Randomly in the kitchen. She learned this from me- shamelessly singing the song in the car, loudly and with hearty abandon.
Number Four:
My kid rocks. Therefore so do I.
BOOM.
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