Tucked Away

Away, tucked away in layers of cotton and breath.
I so hurriedly herded and encouraged and needed you there.
I held your half grown self firmly against me, absorbed your heat, your smell, your relentless adoration.

My heart pricked with the shame of my shortcomings.

Out from her mouth spilled the verbal commitment of her heart to me, her appreciation of her existence.  And I no longer wanted to give her to the night.
I needed her to know how sorry I am for showing up to this task with a nearly empty tank.
It's not ok.
I should be able to do it anyway.
I wanted to wail at her feet and beg for the day back- to not yell, to not speak harshly, to hold hands, to be still and listen, to be on the floor and catch all the moments that cannot be retrieved in these mourning hours of the night.

I wanted to promise that by tomorrow I will have it figured out.
I will be outfitted, somehow overnight, with the gear I need to be that mom. 
Maybe I just don't have the correct candle scent warming and filling my nostrils,
maybe the motivational quote on my computer screen isn't potent enough,
maybe the GMOs in my snacks are impacting my brain function.
Whatever it is, I wanted to promise her to have it solved and resolved by 8am tomorrow.

Of course I don't actually share any of this. 
Look at her.
She sees only perfection in me.
Why would I trouble her world when all of this only exists in mine.

She falls from my grip like a felled tree, vibrating the bed frame, sending the creatures surrounding her into the air, collapsing the pillow up around her face.

Un-understandables

You can all relax now, I've officially identified the most ridiculous part of being a parent: comforting your precious babies through the voluntary absence of the other parent.

I've probably said this in the past, and I used to see my Dad once per year, for a month in the summer.  I'd miss him fiercely all year, then feel trepidacious leaving the comfort zone of my mom.  I'd love being there, a state away, with my Dad.  I was so grown up.  I did things I'd never do in California, mostly that meant being by myself for stretches of time unheard of in my Mom's care.  I could go anywhere, do anything, plan my day and then do something else. No one was there to say no, or yes.  If I rode my bike allllll the way across town, then there I'd be, with the consequence of now needing to pedal all the way back.  When it was time to load me back onto a California bound plane I would be stressed outright.  We'd be late, my luggage barely being tossed into the plane's belly, the front desk person throwing annoyed looks.  I'd be stressed because if I was late my Mom might decide that this was the last unacceptable flaw to my summer visits and I'd not be allowed to see my Dad again.  I'd be stressed because my Dad's roommates and friends would be standing there in the airport in their river shorts and ripped/no shirts, scraggly and tanned, to say goodbye to me too and I didn't want them to see how sad I was.  How near I was to bawling.  I was so very sad to be leaving my Dad for nearly a year and I hated missing him.  That feeling, it's a very specific one, and it's impact hadn't punched me in the face in long while. 

A year and a half ago this very feeling showed up on my child's face when her Daddy told her he'd be no longer living here.  You should know that this feeling is the worst feeling I had as a kid- complete helplessness.  It is wanting something that is vital to your life force, something that you are incomplete without, and having people you love take it away.  It's incomprehensible.  There is a tight squeeze around my heart- it pumps harder, my throat closes up, painfully and I sweat.  My feet chatter on the ground and I can't stop chewing the insides of my cheeks.  I talk about random things.  Nothing makes me feel better.  Suddenly here it was again, this time on the face I love the most.  I was looking at myself, losing my dad and feeling like this couldn't be so.  Then all of the reasonings and thoughts to make the situation be less devastating pour out of her, because there must be a mistake.  We adults must have overlooked the obvious solution, if we could just let her fix/mend/behave these wrenching consequences away.  I'm not sure I've ever been so angry.  Besides knowing that divorce was not going to be a part of her life, I'd never imagined needing to defend my daughter from this old feeling.  I was in a panic, enraged, desperate to get her past the moment where the world changed.  I later wrapped my whole body around her, having coached her into some measured breathing, still feeling the tremors of a meltdown move through her, and I imagined all the yuck of the world trying to get past my cocoon, trying to stain her loving heart.  In my mind I succeeded in all the right ways, but the worst offender wasn't outside, he was in.  And I have no say in that.

She is having these attacks of reality more often lately.  She lays in bed, holding back scathing accusations at the world about not seeing her Daddy enough, and eventually they spit out of her bright red, crumpled face.  Two or three words at a time I get the story.  I agree with all of it: the unfairness, the un-understandables, the inquiry as to why.  She told me last night that she felt like she was going to explode.  She told me tonight that it felt like, "I cracked my head open again, only my heart feels cracked not my head".  I see it in her eyes and in her defensive body language.  She is in it.  She's there, where I was, and she is feeling so helpless and out of control and longing.  I squeeze her and she wraps her legs in knots around mine.  Maybe if I squeeze her just so, it will wring all of this ick out of her tender heart.  I keep her there until she is asleep.  Heavy.  Twitching.  At peace.

Blow it up

My friend Wendy is wise.  She said to me one day that all kids are perfect and learning how to be in the world.

I do my best to let my kid be herself.  Loud, overbearing, exuberant.  These are all words that I own, that give me anxiety.  These qualities say to me, "Be embarrassed, care about what others might think about your parenting, get that girl to stop drawing attention to herself".  They aren't what my kid is.  She is perfect.

How freaking cool is it that she can scream with excitement in a small coffee shop and care not about others' opinions.  How freaking cool is it that she will insert herself into a stranger's family to seek out their similarly sized child and then steal that child away to frolic about, as if she'd known them her whole life.  How freaking cool is my kid?

So why would I want to bring down the numbness, the separateness of my adulthood onto her?  What a lame thing to do.  By all accounts I am the one whose life is dull and lackluster, while her's is wild with vibrant colors and freedom to just "be".  Why would an unbiased observer say to me, "Yes, Mrs. O'Hagan, your child is clearly in need of a dose of your life.  The one where she dies a little.  Yes, that's my opinion."  Well, that just wouldn't happen.  Quite the opposite would be true.  That person would beg me, implore to my humanity that I see her for who she is: the most incredible person walking the earth.  And they would ask me, why- why am I so willing to snuff out that inspiring beam of unfiltered light, when I could learn so much from it?

I could only answer with the sad realization that I have crossed over.  I am that boring adult who I didn't understand as a kid.  I am fully in the embrace of rules, politeness, manners and all other form of tippy-toeing.  And it sucks.  Those qualities have added nothing to the quality of my life.  They may have inspired others to think kind thoughts about me, or perhaps to not have thought about me at all as I made no impression of myself.  At this rate, I'll go to my grave with people saying how nice I was and that may be it.  I won't have stood for anything.  I won't have lived 'out loud' as they say.  And for whom am I muting myself?

The moral of the story is that my kid is PERFECT.  I hope she never learns to fit into this social structure and instead blows it up with her amazing self.

My baby, she's three

Children running rampant, in that awesome, chaotic, wonderful kind of way.  Adults sharing, 'catching up', and passing around the babies.  A lovely chorus of 40 voices bestowing wishes of a happy day unto the most beautiful part of my life: Rosanna.  

In short, her birthday party was perfect.  

playing under the OTP tables with cousins and friends

ready to open presents at home

who needs cake when there's frosting?

fun time at Incredible John's

mission: birthday exhaustion, complete!

Three wonderful things

Here are three wonderful things that happened today:

1.
At the Zoo, Rosanna's friend fell and was pretty upset for a bit.  Rosanna knew she liked the leaves that had fallen and so picked one up and gave it to her so that she, "could feel better".  I love that my daughter has a heart that thinks and acts in such a loving manner.  I couldn't be a prouder Momma.

2.
I took my second prenatal yoga class.  It's tough.  It's relaxing.  It's an hour and a half!

3.
My kiddo was a hoot at dinner.  She told all the severs at Thai Garden about the crocodile she saw today and cracked herself up each time.  She told elaborate stories and kept up with the conversation at the table.  She ate all of her curry and asked for more.  She said "please" and "thank you" without being prompted.  She's amaze-sauce.

Woes of two

Have I been pregnant forever?  No?  Only 16 weeks?  Are you certain?

I am 16 weeks pregnant.  I've lost 20 pounds and gained back 4.  I no longer feel wretched in every moment, hence the 4 pound gain.  Hooray!!  My eating habits are still highly suspicious.  My food aversions include almost everything.  At least it seems that way sometimes.  I've given up being vegan for now.  Everything I ate pre-prego gives me the heaves.  The new game plan: be as vegan as my appetite allows.  I've gotta say this is a huge relief.  I still won't be eating meat.  For the most part this has meant allowing for cheese.  Also some baked goodies which almost always means eggs and butter were used.  Have I noticed a difference?  You bet!  Adding dairy back in after 8 months clean has meant gas pains, feeling grossly full and phlegm.  Awesome, right?!

Then there's this other kid.  The "original" O'Hagan family addition.  Did you know that she's 2 years old?  The age of 2 is as glorious as it is stupefying and maddening.  She's undeniably brilliant.  She wants to sign everything, including letters.  She asks thoughtful questions, she's observant in ways that I hadn't considered and is on a quest, it seems, to conquer the world and make it her friend.  I mean really, try and not be this kid's friend.
She also ask questions.  Those questions lead to more questions.  Which opens up another line of questioning.  In my less proud mommy moments I have been heard saying, "OK!  Let's be done now!  I don't know!" while the cauldron of impatience is writhing and seething and verging on a really unbecoming breakdown.
She also has mind numbing mood swings.  We're talking: happily chatting away, traumatizing meltdown, resumes chatting...all within 60 seconds.  Ethan and I just look at each other, a mixture of, "Did that really just happen?" and, "I can't mentally deal with this sort of insanity" emanating from our eyes.
Then there's the testing.  We are no longer newbies at using the 'time-out'.  In some of her more insightful moments she actually chooses a time-out.  Almost like she gets that she can't handle life in that moment and needs to sit just quietly for a moment (did you get that "Ferdinand" reference?).

Parenting is a real treat.  So much joy and so much stress in each day.  The emotional output is intense!   It's no wonder I'm exhausted by 7pm everyday.

It's a trip, man.

"A whisper"

I was paying for my items.  One container of Annie's organic bunny shaped gummies and one container of ginger chews (I'll try anything to soothe the nausea).  I get my receipt, gather the items and Ro is asking me to come down, she needs something.
I'm feeling a bit flustered, I'd refused a bag because I didn't need one, I'm trying to get myself out of the way and now my kid needs me to get on the floor to tell me something.  I think with raised hormone levels comes a lessened ability to deal with regular life stuff.  So I ask her what she wants.
"Come down so I can tell you a whisper."
Ah.  Interesting.  I'm game.  So I kneel down and she aligns her face right up next to mine and whispers, "Guess what?  I love you!"
Oh, dang.  Now if that isn't a heart stopper.  She pulls back and looks at me, beaming and waiting.  I often play that game with her: Guess what?  I love you!  This is the first time she's taken the lead.
I pull her to me and smooch on her soft, squishy cheek.  I tell her I love her too.

Swim lessons....solo

OMG you guys.  OMG.

A few weeks ago we signed up for "Parent/Tot" swim lessons.  We receive a gift of two sessions of swim lessons for Ro at christmas, and this was the applicable class.

The first session has come and gone.  It was ok.  Lots of singing, coddling, splashing and playing with toys.  It was perfect, for what it was.
I was left wanting, however.  So when we started this session in the parent/tot class again, I took action.  The next level is for 3-5 year olds (not 2 year olds), so my inquiry into moving her up a class was met with apprehension.  We agreed that if she went to the teacher for class (i.e. didn't throw a fit and  freak out because Mommy and Daddy weren't there) then that was it: she would be allowed to stay.  Otherwise, it was back down into baby-land for us.

People.  If you know my Ro, you know she had no problem heading off into the water without us.  She didn't even look for us until the half-hour lesson was minutes from being over.  After I handed over my beloved into the hands of people who I've never spoken to in my life, we made ourselves scarce behind a fence- close enough to watch, far enough to be out of sight.

Let me tell you- when I sat down upon the cement step and turned to see how my baby was doing in her first moments of un-parented swim lessons, she was perfect.  It was as if she'd been doing it all along.  No problem.  My Mommy heart got tight, my eyes burned and clear fluid pooled in my eyelids.  Oh, man.

She did AMAZING.  She jumped in with no quibbling (she quibbles with me, one reason I thought to move her up), she practiced floating on her back and front.  They kicked and scooped.  She and another little boy had to be separated because they were more interested in shenanigans than paying attention.  This made E and I giggle.

It was amazing.  I am SO stink'in proud.

Day of Awe

Today left me in awe.

Let's start out at the farmer's market.  Saturday mornings always do.
I could hyperventilate- there's so much good stuff.  Cherries are overflowing from baskets, there's deep red and light yellow with a kiss of red.  There are peaches and nectarines in piles on table tops, Ro is anxiously touching them all because she recently discovered how good they are.  I bought golden beets and red beets, carrots and thai basil.  I loaded up on brilliant red strawberries and got a bag full of mushrooms as well.  That's not all: broccoli, garlic naan and some indian eggplant spread, squash and a few flowers made it back into my house as well.
Oh man, that's a happy fridge!

Then my wee-one and I headed out to a wedding.  Upon arriving we were overwhelmed with crowds, it turns out the wedding was taking place in the midst of the Western States 100 Mile Run.  At that point the runners had already been running for eighty miles.  EIGHTY MILES!!!  Holy crap.  These people were cruising along at a faster pace than if I were running my standard 3.3 mile loop, show offs.  I mean really, this is an incredible feat!  I can't even wrap my brain around it.  Just amazing.

Fast forward to the wedding: my daughter is running around with the other little ones, waiting for the ceremony to begin.  She approaches a girl who is smaller than her, bends to be face-to-face, puts each of her hands on the girls shoulders gently, barely, and says in a most loving soft voice, "What's your name?".  I could have cried.  Who is this kind, gentle child?  How she come to be under my care?  What did I do to deserve this toddler who is so amazing?  She completely blows me away every day.  I was stunned to see her stop running like a wild banshee and take a soft moment to include this other little girl.  I was SO very proud.  I wanted to get everyone's attention and point it out, to show them this little beam of bright, awesome light.  Gosh, dang it I just couldn't be more in love with her.

Sweet summer sunshine

Life is so exciting in the summer!  Outdoor activities are available around the clock and that means less possibility for screen time- yay!

We're stocking up on vitamin D lately by getting our swim lessons on,

taking weekly hikes with friends, 

losing the poundage by running (sorry, no picture of my sweaty awesomeness), attending festivals, 

playing with cousins, 

and other general liveliness. 

I know summer's only just begun, but I'm really digging it.  We've finished one round of swim lessons, the outdoor family movie nights have started back up (so far: Lion King and Cars), I'm actively training for a half marathon at Disneyland (in September) and my friend Alice and I get together weekly with our girls (they are 3 months apart in age) to hike and wander the wilderness.  Not to mention the weekly farmer's market on Saturday mornings where we get a Grandma Debi fix and where the past few weeks have been gearing up for an outrageously delicious fruit season.  I cannot wait to see what's available tomorrow morning!  

On another note, who replaced my kiddo with a 5 year old?  She's been saying the craziest things lately.  Some cute and some disturbing.  Like today when she told me to "shut up", like it was no big deal.  I can assure you that this language is not used in our house, and yet here it is, smacking me in the face as it flies out of her precious little mouth.  

Last week she told me matter-of-factly that she is pregnant.  

Yesterday, in the tub, she asked, "What's this?".  I told her, "It's where you go pee-pee from".  She asked Ethan, "Daddy do you have one like this?".  And then she asked me.  Oh, man- that came out of left field.  Who knew body-parts talk came at age two?  Not me.  Although, I don't really know when I expected it.

Lately, when E and I are using a "tone" with each other she is a firm request that we, "be nice to each other" and then follows it up with a, "Mommy, talk to Daddy".  Well played kid, well played.

She's nearly got the "Hakuna Mata" song down, it's really the only part of The Lion King that stuck in her brain (thankfully; you ever notice how dark that movie is?) and it's available to watch on youtube so....that's what we do.  I bet you can imagine how stinkin' cute it is to hear a toddler voice say, "It's a problem free, philosophy".  Yeah, it's cute.

She's obsessed with helping in the (tiniest) kitchen and I love it.  Most of the time.  

Yay summer!

My kid, the coolest

I have trouble bragging about myself.  I am told when someone compliments me, that my correct response should be, "Thank you", instead of ramblings to discount the validity of their gesture.  It's a habit I work on daily: accepting acknowledgement.  This is one of the reasons I decided to post my art on facebook, it puts me "out there" in a small way and people say they like it...and I say, "Thank you".

My kid, however, is a shameless beam of pride, bursting and radiating from my heart like a beacon beckoning people to come and bath in her awesomeness.  MY KID IS FREAKING AWESOME.

Take, for example, the instance of a fellow toddler shoving my beloved out of said toddler's space and screaming at her.  My mama-bear ferociousness level skyrocketed and before I could do something I'd certainly be jailed for, my Ro stood up and walked briskly to me with a look of disbelief and hurt on her sweet baby face.
We had a quick chat about how people aren't always nice, I confirmed that she was ok, and off she went- no worse for the experience.

What about the time an older boy tackled her in the library (he was playing?), sending her careening into a giant stuffed horse?  She promptly stood up, turned to him and said, "Don't do that again" and walked away.  I backed her up with a triumphant, "Yeah!  What she said!" and followed her lead.  Well, not really.  But people!!  My kid didn't come bawling to me, sobbing out a story of being wronged!  No!  She handled it and moved on!  PROUD MOMMA MOMENT!

It's impossible for me to convey to you through this mediocre medium how fully awed and in love I am.

It Happened!!!!!!!!!

Just after bath time, after hair brushing and teeth polishing......

......she says to me, "Momma, I wanna go potty".  I'm thinking, sure you do, this potty thing has become a novelty instead of a waste receptacle.  But I put her on it anyways and give her the "Once Upon a Potty" book to peruse for inspiration.

"Momma I peepeed."

Doesn't necessarily mean anything.

"Ok."

Then I look over at her, she's peering down into the potty...at a small yellow puddle.

"AH!  Omigosh!  You peepeed in the toilet!  That's so awesome!  Do you see it?  You did it!!!"  And so on for about 5 minutes.  She didn't forget the promise of a chocolate chip upon completing such a task.  So of course she got one, post teeth brushing and all.

I haven't been so excited or thrilled about something in a long, long time.  My heart is beating faster, I wanted to (and did) dance around and throw her a party.  It was awesome!

"Don't be mad Mommy"

Ohmigawd.  I'm having a conflicted parenting moment.

After laying down for a good twenty minutes, my kid is heard lurking in the doorway.  I say, "Are you ok Rosanna?", to which she replies, "Don't be mad at me Mommy".

WHAT?!

Pros: The kid is forming complete and logical sentences and is willing to be a request for what she wants.
Cons: She assumes I'm going to be mad at her.

For the record, it is only upon her second, third and fourth attempts to free herself from bedtime when I become stern.  Not an ounce of mad, mind you- but stern and unyielding.  Her response to my increasing sternness is melt-down.  It's a voice and attitude that I rarely take with her and I think it shocks her a bit.

It makes me sad that she wants to avoid me being mad at her....then again, she is two and her interpretation of the word "mad" and mine are vastly different.  As you can see I have attached negative connotations to it, which is something I'd like for her to avoid and instead accept that she and I can be "mad" and it's ok, it's not something to actively avoid.  It's just normal.

Ergh.

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.

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.

Wordless Wednesday: My favorite child

and it's time to do the birthday dance!

When I think of my infant I think, "where'd I leave her?".

She was so danged small.  Her face was a different shape and her hair was so, so dark.

Today, her second birthday, she is tall, lanky and not so squishy.  She hair is streaked with browns and blondes that any woman'd love for their hairdresser to master.  She is proficient in her emotions, telling me moment to moment what she is feeling and how it came to be that way.  Her comedic side is strong.  She uses different voices to convey different messages and raises her eyebrows to up her chances of understanding.

She's a freaking miracle.  I am biting my tongue to not lay out every over-done saying about kids and growing and time passing and, and, and....it's all so tragically true.  I want her to be 2 forever.  It's the most fun.  I also wanted her to be 2 weeks old forever, and 6 months old forever.  I guess that's a promising sign.  All of these times are outrageous.  Her toddler-ness challenges me and rewards me over and over again in the span of a single day.

I want more kids.  Like 4 more.  In a few minutes I'll be convinced that Ro should be an only child.  Then I'll want 2 more kids.  Then I'll kick myself for ever having one because I love her so much it physically drains me and I wait around in terror that something could happen to her.  I can't win and yet I've won so completely.

Happy 2nd birthday baby Ro (geez, I guess I have to drop the "baby" now, huh?).

Wordless Wednesday: bed testing at Ikea

February 10: Something you're proud of in the past few days

Being proud of myself isn't my default mode.  I'm pretty humble, I avoid acknowledging myself for a job well done.  So let me just stew on this idea for a moment, this idea of being proud of myself for something.  Toot my own horn, you could say.

Ok.  I got it.

In the past few days I had the courage to invite people over to our home and cook a vegan meal.  I debated cooking something "normal" for them, so as not be be filed under "people whose house we don't want to eat at".  I am proud to report that I let go of needing them to like it.  Of course, I hoped they did, but I decided to detach myself from frantically making sure...which would look like: apologizing, cooking up something new, making it "right" somehow.  My mantra was, "they are grown ups and my friends, if they want something new they can ask".  And then I exhaled.  Phew!  It was tough, and I did it.

Also, I am quite proud of our kid.  She knows all her ABC's, she can count to 20, she sings 5+ songs on her own.  She says, "please" and "thank you".  She speaks her wants and needs more than she whines about them. Her joyful little self spreads happiness like wildfire through a crowd.  Yesterday she was singing "You are my sunshine" and "Twinkle, Twinkle" unabashedly in the store.  Grins worked their way across all the patrons faces.  It was awesome.  I can't take all the credit, and I'll take a chunk.  We've been conscientious of how we speak to her, how we interact with her, we follow up with our requests of her.  It's WORK.  It's working out beautifully.

"Ro"ckstar

I love this kid.  She's incredible and stupendous.  She blows me away.

The other day we went to the Flower Farm to get a bite and check out the offerings.  We dined on PB&J and threw bocce balls down the lonely bocce court.  It was the most fun.

We were told there were chickens.  So of course, we went to find them.  There was much excitement over the possibility of chickens.  

We found them, they were the especially fluffy and cooky looking variety and were not interested in being pet by a spunky 1 year old.  She really wanted to pet them, however, and went on a mission to track them down, no matter where they went.

It took some convincing, but I got her to let the chickens be for a bit and we wandered off toward the horses.  She didn't miss a beat, clicking to them and saying, "hi".  She gets face time with horses and chickens at her grandma's, so I shouldn't be surprised that she is oh-so comfortable with them.

I am just always so impressed with her openess and initiative.  She wants to go check things out, see them, investigate, socialize.  To be honest, she was perfectly willing to pick up a chicken where I'd be a bit nervous myself.  Chickens are a bit weird for me.  Not this girl, she's all about it.  Crawling through trees and running through fields to track them down.  And what about this giant horse?  Her hand was through the fence and petting his snout before I had any say in the matter.  "No biggie, Mom".  

While we were eating lunch, a woman and her two kids sat outside and a bit away from us.  Rosie watched them get settled and looked to me, pointing at them saying, "I go see them?".  She loves to go play with other kids.  Yesterday we were at the Exploratorium and it was swarming with kids.  She pushed her way into a crowd of older kids, got into the fray of the activity with out a second thought.  

These moments make me nervous.  More than that they make me proud.  The nervousness is about losing her.  Losing her physically and emotionally.  She needs me less and the void is left a bit achy.  It's a proud ache.  We've done our job if she can survive outside of us and be a vibrant person in the world.  She's accomplishing the latter with wild abandon.  Of course it'll be awhile (years, I know) before she survives on her own, but if today is any indicator of her ability, then she'll have no problem.  

I can't help but be in an everlasting state of awe.