Shmirthday

I get asked every year what I want to do for my birthday.  Truth is, I can no more pull that answer out of my brain than spin straw into gold.  Is it the near complete giving up of myself to show up fully for my kid that as shoved the possibility of 'doing for me' out the window?  For 364 days I check out of "Mel" and into "Mom" and that's a hard habit to break.  I don't even want to talk about the unjustifiable guilt, sheesh.  If I do come up with something it's extravagant.  As in, "keep dreaming sister".  In which case I don't bother to bring it up and wave around the fact that what I really want we can't afford.
Let's just say I want a day to myself.  Well, what now?  Do I sit on my keester and watch re-runs of Top Chef?  'Cause really, a day to myself sounds like heaven in that all the dishes would be done, laundry put away, floors scrubbed, base boards wiped, windows shined, E's work shirts ironed....happy birthday to me!
I'd rather my birthday just went by without any obligations, without any guilt that E spent money on something which is really our money so it's not like some free and clear gift.
So, yeah.

I don't love

If I accept people as they are, I am loving them even when I can't stand them.  Right?  So when someone I love (supposedly) can only communicate with me by airing their upsets, annoyances and endless ways they have been wronged...I just accept it, if I love them.  I wouldn't tell them to change.  I wouldn't put rules on the type of communication I would allow them to bring to me.  I would just see that this is a suffering person. This is a person who is stuck in a vicious cycle of victim-hood that was created long ago and has been nothing but reinforced everyday and in every thought.

I am not that loving person.  I hear the dissent and my skin pricks, the muscles tighten around my neck and my jaw clenches.  I am not listening anymore and am instead running through all the reasons I cannot stand to be in this conversation anymore.  I have become resentful.  I have created reason upon reason for why I am right about this person's griping being pathetic and selfish.  I am so removed from a position of loving that I can hardly touch this person without feeling awkward and distant.

The only person I really love is my child.  I don't know of another person who I love in every moment, regardless of her momentary mood or behavior.  I see her acting out and I wonder what the hurt is, what the need is that isn't being fulfilled.  I know this is true for every person.  The acting out fills a void.  We are mostly creatures that interact with the acting-out parts of each other, instead of loving through that moment and discovering what is really going on.

The person I most work on loving is my husband.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I am an amateur lover.  I have trained myself over time to love sparingly and with great caution.  I clearly see how this does myself and others a disservice.  I worry that I will inadvertently pass this sometimes painful trait on to my babies.  I have an extraordinary opportunity to practice loving over the next few days.  To say it out loud sounds like a silly, simple task.  Just to love someone.   Yet the thought of releasing all the stored up resentments, with whom I've become close and friendly, presents itself as scary.

Testing, testing

Always testing.  I get it.  She's growing up, finding her voice and self in the world.  This requires some pushing back, you know, to see where the boundaries really are.  But do we need to draw out that line EVERY DANGED DAY?

There is nothing I am more willing to do and also dread more than consequences.  One time I shocked myself by threatening to take away the chocolate pumpkin we had just bought at Sees.  We spent a good 5 minutes choosing the treat, it was now a prized possession.  So when the threat came out of my mouth, that the squawking in the mall had to stop or else....I was afraid of what I might actually have to do.  She did it no less than three more times, with a very, "I'm doing it anyways" sort of attitude.  Boom- chocolate pumpkin confiscated.  

The following scene wrecked me.  Crying.  Urges that, "Now I'm listening" and, "I'm behaving now" though red, puffy wet eyes.  I explained that I appreciated her behavior now, and that she still wasn't getting the chocolate.  She didn't like that so much.  Following through is the worst/best thing ever.  So completely awful for the instinct to rescue my beloved from her hurt that I created.  I crowded out those thoughts with reassuring ones that this moment and others like it will be why she doesn't behave like a wild dog whose parents have no say.

Tonight and last night's consequences were no books before bed.  Our routine calls for two books before lights out.  This is a big deal.  After making the decision to continue with the unacceptable behavior (tonight it was splashing tons of water out of the bath tub), I laid it out.  

Again, the drama.  Again the insistence that now she was behaving/listening.  Again I wanted to read the books anyways.  But I didn't.

Short term discomfort for long term awesomeness?  I hope so.

Parenting is hard!

Ball smashing

Every day my wee-one asks to do an art project.  Today, a rainy frigid sort of day, was the perfect time for a 'project' that took a bit more effort.  So, upon consulting one of my Pintrest boards, I found it.  We were gonna smash some balls.

Goods required: cotton balls, flour, water and food coloring.  Check, check, check and check.                    

                    

       

                     

 


Basically, you mix equal parts flour and water, add food coloring to your liking and douse a cotton ball in the mixture.  The you bake them at 300 degrees for 45 minutes until they are hard.  Then....you smash them.  Crunchy on the outside, soft in the middle.

It was fun for a minute.  They were kinda hard to smash and I was reminded that I did get this recipe/idea from a site that was promoting ways to keep your boy-child amused.  My girl-child isn't so interested in smashing stuff.

She is interested in other things....

We still smashed all those suckers.  Oh, the destruction, oh the humanity!

Woes of the world

How gross is election time?  Like really, really gross.  So many heavy handed opinions, such fervor and enough fiery passion to drive the masses apart.  I don't think I've heard so many threats to move abroad should one candidate or the other win.  I've heard  heartfelt opinions from both sides about how awful, terrible, horrendous our country will become should one or another win.

It annoys me to no end.  You can't all be right.  We're talking the equivalent to stating a fact one moment and the next person coming along to state that said fact is wrong.  So are there no facts?  No 'good' people? The local election is no exception.

I'm ready for it to be over.  The funny thing is, it's never really over.  The losers will be endlessly blaming the woes of the world on the fact that their guy didn't win.  As if it would have been so wonderfully different if their guy won, as if someone has what it takes to actually make a difference.

In my opinion, the guy who can clear out the crap is never gonna get the chance.  He won't have the resources because he won't be supporting powers that be to continue their charade.  I heard that there are over 100 people running for President.  Why is it that only two of those people are shoved in my face daily?  I know the answer, and that's why we'll stay stuck.

Your guy isn't going to make things "better".  Sorry.

Love and headaches

As my friend Ashley would say, let's bring it in for the real thing.  This era of parenting=the most challenging time of my life. 

I know it sounds dramatic.  And it's the truth.  We're talking about another person's life here.  My actions, reactions and basically any thing I do is a learning moment for my daughter.  This sucks.  Like, a lot.  I'm working on a 50/50 ratio here of  "Ro I can handle" and "Ro I wanna throw out the window".  This computes to: half the time I think I'm a pretty kick-ass mom, half the time my blood pressure is spiked, my head feels like it's going to explode and I'm wrestling with yelling awful things.  Rule #1: don't say things to a toddler that you don't wanna hear back.  Oh, yeah.

I'm also working with a pregnant body/brain.  Who knows if I could pull this off beautifully if not for hormons.  It's not even worth considering because that scenario doesn't exist.  However, now I'm freaked out that my unborn child is getting all kinds of stress hormones and will come out colicky and impossible.  It's a fact- stressed out pregos often pop out babies that are more prone to being stressed.  Time to take up meditation.  For reals.

What I really want...no, need is a day or two to myself.  Last year I went into the mountains, did yoga and ate delicious healthy meals 3x a day (that I didn't make!) for a few days.  It was a struggle for me then, it wouldn't be now. 

Oye. 

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.