Birth of a Mother

On my way to becoming a neat, organized mother impersonator

2008-04-20T23:56:00.001-07:00

I'm exhausted. For those who don't call motherhood/housewife-dom work, they need to walk a week in our shoes. I actually decided that I would try to achieve something this week, rather than sit on my lazy arse bemoaning the fact that the kitchen sink was overflowing with dishes, the hamper buried under a pile of clothing, and one could not make it to the bathroom without tripping over a toy. I've come to the conclusion that if and when I actually try, and mind you, not try that hard, I can actually get close to my ideal goal of being a neat, organized mother impersonator. Since I know that I can never actually be neat and organized because of some genetic defect or some chemical imbalance, I can only seek to impersonate.

I am a little obsessive with lists. I also defeat the purpose of completing tasks on such lists by creating new lists with the leftover tasks and then adding five (or ten) more. It's mind-numbing craziness. I should probably make an appointment with the head-shrinkers pronto (except they'd just want to drug me up, and pass that off as normal).

Today, I managed to make 100% whole wheat bread (sans bread-maker, mind you), roast a chicken, return books to library, and take 1/2 of recycling out (the dumpster was full, and who knows, I might need a box full of newspapers for something, right?). Then, at dinner, as husband was praising the chicken, I sighed, "I didn't get anything done today." He looked at me like he thought he should call the nuthouse, then proceeded to list my accomplishments. And good thing too, because now I can make a new list out of the leftover undone things I still need to do!

Later, sitting on the couch, while finishing up knitting a dishcloth, musing about a friend I have who seems amazing in her ability to be crafty, have a freelance job, teach her child sign language, making delicious gourmet-sounding meals frequently, all the while keeping up with her friends far and near (yes, A, if you are reading this, I'm talking about you). Where does one find the energy? I mean, seriously, how many cups of coffee will I have to drink? Apparently one in the morning for starters is not enough.

If all this work doesn't give us the right to be cranky, than what does?! I saw a mother last week who had just arrived at the grocery store, only to have her entire schedule rearranged because one of her children was acting, shall we say, poorly. Although I didn't like her tone, I felt her pain, and I could not judge. I would be a little p-o'ed too. And not like I haven't from time to time. Son's recently taken up whining...I just want to shoot myself in the head. And now that son's grasping the time-out concept, mommy's had her fair share (well, so has Blue Bear and Baby, come ot think of it).

In a few weeks, maybe a month tops, my cover should be complete, and no one will know I'm a poser. Well, except husband and son and anyone else who reads this...

Grudging Domesticity

2008-04-09T21:30:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how or when I suddenly turned into the domestic goddess I am now becoming. And, quite frankly, it's a little alarming, since I'm not actually trying that hard. I've completely ditched any attempts at creating a "clutter-free" home (the word itself nauseates me), and yet, I spend random moments "simplifying", finding ways to either reuse something we already have or just finding it a home where it will become someone else's problem. Freecycle's pretty awesome if you're looking to get rid of crap. I don't think I've managed to actually get anything yet (a little slow on the email-draw, it appears).

I forgot to mention that we are going on our second week TV-free. It's hard to believe it's only been two weeks, since it seems like more, which is probably a good reason to get rid of it - we were spending so much time in front of it that we now have all this time to do other things. I observed two days into our cold-turkey TV detox that now I had all this time to clean, and promptly began scurrying about like a chicken with her head cut off - thus proving that my own addiction was just as bad as son's.

I decided to start making bread, from scratch. Mostly to save money, as we've now discovered that we're more poor than we were in the military, despite higher wages. In any case, I found a recipe entitled "No Knead, Dutch Oven Bread" and promptly set out to make it, after spending an entire Sunday kneading, rising, kneading, rising, poking, and prodding two loaves of bread (that turned out deliciously, I might add). Aside from the fact that this was really an experiment and something was bound to go wrong (got a little dark, or, as some might say, burnt), it turned out well. So tonight, I whipped up another, and it's a-rising.

And then, there was Monday, when I decided the kitchen needed to be scrubbed from top to bottom. It was really bizarre, since I hate cleaning, and actually had no intention of doing anything of the sort, other than loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. It was a good thing, though, because whoa, nelly! Things had gotten a tad groady, and since I'm clearly not obsessive in the least, it was probably really nasty. Since husband does the dishes most nights (a deal I worked out, since I make most meals), he was impressed and now makes sure it remains as clean as possible.

On Saturday, I decided to scope out a few stores I had heard about in the Southeast side, and happened upon a little consignment shop, snagged some wicker laundry baskets (one which smelled like cigarette smoke, yuck, which I didn't realize until the drive home, arg) and used two of the many flannel baby blankets we were given to create a nice little insert for one of them. So, yay, we now have a decent, inexpensive laundry basket. I've devised a plan to get the smell out of the other one, but there's no telling if it will work.

I suppose it was inevitable, with all this time at home I'd learn a few things, put them to use and actually become a decent, dare I say it?...homemaker. I shudder at the thought. I guess it's better than 'freeloader'.

Moving and making other life changes

2008-03-13T23:43:00.000-07:00

One main reason for the recent and prolonged blog-silence is that we made a major move. A huge shift. Husband is now unshackled from the military, and son is learning more words than I can even keep track of, much less understand.

It's amazing how one settles into old routines once the dust settles. I had been allowing son to watch TV (always PBS or movies) so that I could get other things done, but have come to the conclusion that I have done quite a bit a harm (hopefully reparable), and have had to crack down. This, of course, comes with the standard withdrawal symptoms, which in a toddler are equally as unpleasant as they would in an adult...or, arguably more so because of the tantrums in which he throws himself onto the floor and wails (all the while looking at me as though I've betrayed his heart) or bangs his head against the wall. I have expected this, so I'm not entirely surprised, nor am I completely uncompassionate. We headed out to the park today, and of course, it started to rain. So I thought we might detour and see if the horses were out, which, of course, they weren't. My attempts to lure him into tower-building or book-reading were not successful. In the end, I'd just hold him in my lap, let him have his cry out, and eventually, let him dig through a box of junk that hasn't been sorted through in the month and a half since we moved in.

I recently finished reading Jim Trelease's The Read-Aloud Handbook, which makes a good case for the TV crack-down and my becoming a bit of a dictator about it. I've started to realize that I watch too much tv as well...and then when midnight roles around and I've finished getting my Daily Show/Colbert Report fix, I'm up reading...sorry Jon and Stephen...I love you, but I need sleep. So here I am, writing about it instead of watching, go figure. In any case, the TV is about two steps away from being out the door. We may have to go cold-turkey.

I've also begun to be a bit of an activist...I decided to support Ron Paul, even though it's certain he won't win. Normally, I like to have opinions, but keep them to myself or, at the very least, share them with like-minded others. But on this point, I cannot be more firm: at least check out what he has to say.

Anyways, bed and book call.

Mommy Malaise

2007-11-13T13:18:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I haven't been keeping up with this blog as I had intended to. The last three weeks have been pretty hellacious. Husband is on his final deployment before getting out of the military, and it was more depressing that any of the other times. There were days when son was eating chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese. Not that he minded - he loves chicken nuggets.

So, two days till husband arrives, I'm going to have to do some mad cleaning because I've kind of let the house go - and he's more of a neat freak than I am (but not too much of one) and would probably not like coming home to a house that looks like it's been ransacked. Yup, by a toddler no less. Need ransacking done, call us. Son will have house turned upside down in less than an hour.

In an attempt to set some order around here, I started implementing discipline, but then it became this push-pull relationship, and I would begin to wonder if it's worth the fight. So, attempts at not being a pushover mom are thwarted by my own thinking. Or laziness. It's anyone's call at this point.

In an attempt to get my site a little more interesting, I've added some new links (check out the Ovulation Calendar - not just for those who want a baby!) and finally put up the least objectionable photo of myself. It's a little old, since I will not put up photos of me in my pajamas and unwashed hair, and those seem abundant, strangely enough. But, I assure you, you're not missing much by not seeing them!

Mommy Makeovers?

2007-10-25T21:45:00.000-07:00

I received a news email from a feminist group I'm a part of, which included a link to an article about a clinic in LA that does what they call "Mommy Makeovers." I couldn't help myself and I went directly to the website. There were client stories, including before and after photos. After choking down my gag reflex, I felt really sad.

Sad because I know how these women feel. Sad because they bought into the lie. Sad because I sometimes get sucked into believing the lie. Sad that we, as women, are still looking to men to define us, fix us. Sad that there are men who have also bought the lie, and are naively thinking they are helping us.

I'll admit that when I'm without son, I feel fatter, schlumpy. No, make that downright frumpy. With son, I feel as though I have a badge that proclaims to everyone "This is my excuse for not being thinner, more put together, more easy on the eye."

I stopped all inflow of media into my house that I knew would make me feel insecure. No fashion magazines, not even under the guise that it's the "artistry" involved. No regular television programming. No fitness magazines, I know how to exercise. Nothing. And with this preemptive action, I cut my insecurity in half. And, am saving myself money to boot.

Then, under the guise of health and wanting to keep up with son, I head to the gym, and become a little more self-conscious, although perhaps that's because of the beefy military guys who hang out there for hours (I swear!), who I know are checking me out because they are desperate for anything at this point (so husband says). I pretend like I own the place and do my thing.

I lost 8 lbs in one day last week. I got gastritis and basically shat out the contents of my stomach, intestines... It took me an entire 5 days to recover. I gained 3 lbs back, but I'm not too upset about that. More alarming is the fact that I'm not as bummed about missing a week of working at the gym, or the pain of a chapped butt for that matter, because the payoff was weight loss.

I've started to see beauty in many of the women around me. Normal women. Women who Hollywood and NYC Fashion wouldn't so much as glance at. Low-hanging breasts. Wide hips. Hairy armpits. Left-over baby pooch. All strong. All beautiful.

I had stretch marks long before I got pregnant, the result of a major growth spurt during puberty. I had long figured there was nothing I could do about them, so I never worried. I got more on my belly late in the pregnancy. They've turned silver now, along with the rest, but I can feel the bumps. They are my rite of passage. First into womanhood, then into motherhood. In a society that has little ritual for such rites of passage, I'll take them. They are mine. They are what separates the girls from the women, the women from the men. No Mommy Makeover for me.

ARRR! I am Mother, hear me roar!

Brain Drain

2007-10-11T23:10:00.000-07:00

So, lately I've sort of been randomly posting without any regularlity, after a good start, and realized that I need to make a decision to actually stick with this or let it fall into mismanagement like other blogs I've visited. The latter is definitely not appealing.

One would think that as a mother, I'd have a daily supply of things to blog about, but apparently, these things are more of a brain drain than anything. I suppose I could lower my standards and write about the latest and greatest achievement of son. I suppose as he grows and supplies me with many profound statements, I will likely have more fodder. Alas, such a task for a little one.

Husband and I have been discussing (negotiating, really) having another child. The way I figure it, I have one, my life is pretty much not my own, so what's one more? Heck, what's two more? Ok, let's not jump there just yet. At the same time, we are in such a huge period of transition, now is not the right time to be preggers. Husband, on the other hand, is more nonchalant about it. Aren't they always? I sometimes wonder if men would be less willing to knock us up if they actually experienced pregnancy and childbirth first hand.

There will definitely not be another child while son is still in diapers. Nope, not doing it. I would be washing diapers all day, every day. With son almost two years old, I imagine that by the time we do get around to cooking the next bun in the oven, he'll be close to being toilet learnt. Here's hoping anyways.

Two children...it will be brain drain supersized. At that point, will the Mommy brain will have laid down roots, with only remnants of my former self buried deep beneath them? I struggle to maintain some semblance of an identity, both as a mother, but also as the woman I was before motherhood. How does anyone do it without becoming institutionalized?

Family Traditions

2007-10-10T18:15:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about family traditions a lot lately, in part because I've taken it upon myself to ensure an organized family gathering at Christmas (a project I love, by the way). The questions du jour: which ones to I want to pass on? Will I be throwing the baby out with the bathwater by not participating in some because of their religious and/or commercial aspects?

My favorite holiday is Christmas. Or perhaps I should say "was". As a child, the busyness of this season excited me more than any gifts I received, and I relish the idea of Christmas baking. There were advent wreaths, school and church plays, caroling, yummy food, staying up late playing all kinds of games or just busting with laughter with my siblings over some trivia we had learned from a game we had played. And, there was a spiritual aspect - the idea of this small being, born to change the world (well, common terminology is "save", but I have little use for that).

So, even today, I get excited. When I was stationed overseas with the Navy, I missed out on spending Christmas in any sort of meaningful way. Then, I got married, and we had our own little traditions (that were somewhat commercialistic and selfish, to be sure). Now that son is in the picture, and every action and inaction has such a huge meaning, I need to reframe traditions in terms of our little family.

My first response is to have nothing to do with them altogether. In part, because I no longer share the faith that gives them deep meaning, but also because they have been bastardized and create want or excess (depending on where you are in the economic spectrum).

My second response is to create new ones by discovering the roots of my old ones. It is my understanding that many of the christian holidays were adaptations of pagan ones, and so I am on a quest to discover the true meaning behind such holidays as Christmas, Halloween, and Easter. We did not celebrate Halloween growing up, I never really understood it. I also never understood the relationship between eggs, rabbits and Easter, either, since my family's tradition was strongly religious. Apparently both rabbits and eggs have to do with fertility, and Easter is in the spring, before everything gets fertile and starts growing. Who knew?

Because I understand that traditions and celebrations make our lives meaningful, I seek to include them in my life - they are also fun for children, with all the crafts and songs and stuff (which apparently I haven't outgrown!). So, like myself, my child, my family, ever evolving, I suppose that our family traditions will also evolve over time.

Pink for girls, blue for boys? (FYI: feminist ranting!)

2007-08-29T14:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not to keen on setting up the gender differentiation right from birth with two simple (and icky pastel) colors. Unfortunately, these colors dominate clothing, so as much as I'd like to choose gender neutral clothing, it is almost impossible (if you know of a place I can get some, please, speak up!). Even in "boy's" clothing son was often mistaken for a girl before he had the long hair he has now.

I also don't think that little boys must have their hair cut either. I can't bring myself to cut son's hair, it's like golden silk. And, who says he has to have short hair? Unlike a lot of military fathers, husband doesn't care (I knew a father who had to give his son a military-style haircut at 4 months, because "it was out of control"!). He doesn't even care if I put a barrette in son's hair, which son will sometimes let me do. I just want to see his beautiful eyes (and make sure that his view is relatively unobstructed).

So, I got a nice set of blue barrettes, metal, not at all feminine, in my opinion (although by nature I suppose they are), one of which he had in this morning when we went to the park. Soon after we arrived a few other mothers (who I had only just met) inquired about "her" age. I replied as nonchalantly as possible, "he's 21 months". They were suprised to learn that "she" was a "he" and said that the barrette confused them (with thinly veiled criticism). I'm pretty sure they would have thought he was a girl, even if he had no barrette. Also in spite of the fact he was wearing a blue shirt, with blue and white striped overalls. It seems that long hair and barrettes outweigh the amount of blue one is wearing. Why can girls wear "boys" clothes and nothing is thought of it, but the other way around is perceived as though a law is being broken? I can only imagine the uproar if I actually put a dress on him.

Now the feminist in me starts to come through: I wonder if our need to distinguish between boy and girl, right from the start, comes from a need to know how to treat them, and do so differently. Why must they be treated differently - shouldn't one treat them based on who they are as a whole person, not just based on their reproductive organs?

Sometimes I wish that my son had been a girl, and not so that I could dress him up in pretty dresses and curl his hair, but because then, being a feminist, I could pass down the important messages that little girls need to hear about how they are equally as capable, intelligent, and strong, as boys are. Of course, the message of being capable, intelligent and strong is something all children need to hear, regardless of gender, and I can only hope that son internalizes this as a message that includes everyone. And, should he one day tell me that he's a feminist too, well, then I know I will have succeeded.

Mother and child painting

2007-08-28T11:19:00.000-07:00

Finally, I am able to show the painting I blogged about several months ago(See May 10). It remains unfinished.

"Resistance is futile...

2007-08-21T12:29:00.000-07:00

...you will be assimilated."

I only realized recently that I have been resisting motherhood. Initially, there was a honeymoon period, and I enjoyed myself, but this wore off around the time that son started walking. By the time he started exerting his will by a unmistakeable resounding "No", I was in full resistance gear.

Perhaps it was because son just passed a growth spurt, finally growing into a coherent toddler, instead of unintelligible baby. He does seem more fun to be with, although that could be because of my change in perspective. In any case, I'm going to enjoy life at the moment, because it's stability is precarious at best, and at worst...well, let's not go there.

I was looking through a parenting magazine and came upon a candid photo of a family laying together on the floor, with a bowl of popcorn, attention turned to a movie out-side the frame. It was then that I realized that we were like them, a family, and thus, the things that husband and I were used to doing were things of the past. Sleeping on on the weekends? Not happening. Spending a whole day in pajamas having a Lord of the Rings Marathon during a stormy day? Well, that won't happen for at least 12 years. Staying up late, talking about current events? What current events? The most current event is son actually sitting still in Story Time at the Library today. Snooze!

While husband was deployed, I did, somehow (how?), manage to read 6 books. Since three of them were Harry Potter novels, I don't even know if they count. I made a list of books that I have and intend to read, now I just have to find the time. I've been "reading" the same three books for months no (Harry Potter is a much easier read than, say, Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom - which is a great book and equally as long at Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but a much drier read in comparison).

Over the weekend, I spent some time with other mother friends (meaning, we met because we're mothers, not the other way around, ha!), and our conversations were almost always on the topic of our children. We like this chatter - there is some validation in it, knowing that you are not the only one who constantly thinks about naps, diapers, and snacks. This is also how I know I've been assimilated. To resist would be to deny a vital part of who I am. But, I'm good at that, denying parts of who I am...well, it's time to put a stop to it. Despite it's less glamourous appeal, it's not all bad (but don't let the media fool you into thinking it's peaches and cream, either!). It just is.

The transition is difficult, and is always shifting, which makes it difficult when on has their schedules and routines in place. Number one quality needed in mothering? Flexibility. An emotional Gumby, if you will.

Tantrums, single motherhood and earthquakes

2007-08-09T09:46:00.000-07:00

As I write this, son is undoubtably getting into something he shouldn't, and, should I find him, he'll throw a tantrum as soon as I utter the word "no". Attempts to cajole or distract are for naught. He must explore to the detriment of the tidiness of the house or his own personal safety.

When he's not throwing himself on the ground in a full-blown tantrum, he'll use the limp-body method (popular amongst activists, probably where they got the idea!) which is especially difficult when it happens in the middle of a parking lot. Oh, and let us not forget the head banging or wall hitting. Some might be inclined to say they know exactly where he gets it from, as I've been known to have a temper, not only as a child, but as a teen. I suppose it's only natural it be somewhat hereditary. Karma's a bitch, as the saying goes.

An updated check has turned up several peeled bananas and plastic cups and bottles strewn around the kitchen floor. I suppose it's time for a smoothie.

I'm at a loss as to how to deal with the tantrums. There are experts who have differing opinions, and my opinion of them is that unless they know me, my history as a child, and my own child, they are somewhat lacking in the ability to actually advise me.

It certainly doesn't help that husband is currently on a training mission out in the middle of the ocean, fortunately, with little more than a week until he returns. How I've managed three weeks without him is anyone's guess. It most certainly was not like the time he was gone for 6 months and son was so tiny, he didn't have much of an opinion about anything, other than needing food, sleep and diaper changes.

I definitely have a deep respect for my single mother friends. I cannot imagine not knowing that somewhere in the future there lies relief from bearing the sole responsibility of a child on one's shoulders. Oh, the exhaustion.

I woke up with a start last night, my bed shaking. Initially, I thought it was son trying to climb into bed, but upon further inspection, it was nothing. It did not occur to me until later that it might be an earthquake. After some research, it seems that there was one about 50 miles away. The irony, I find, is the commentary regarding the frequencies of earthquakes here in California that I hear from time to time, which is that they occur "all the time." And, while I do not doubt that there are many unfelt earthquakes that occur on a very regular basis, in comparison to my time in Japan, this is probably the first I have felt since living here in the last 2 years. Unfortunately, the tremor that woke me was the last I felt, so I wasn't able to experience much of the earthquake while awake.

Growing Pangs

2007-07-02T12:10:00.000-07:00

My son learned how to climb out of his crib a few days ago. Since then we've upgraded to a twin that's been toddlerized. But getting him to sleep in it is proving to be difficult.

I have to admit that I resent the fact that we have to develop a new bedtime routine that involves one of us staying with him until he's asleep, or at least sleepy enough that he doesn't get up when we leave. The previous routine worked well for all of us. Husband and I could spend a few hours with each other before heading to bed.

I've finally managed to get son asleep for his nap by laying down with him. I almost fell asleep before he did, if it weren't for him poking me in the eyes or attempting to pick my nose (both of which made him giggle). My alone time has been cut short, and I'm tired and disappointed.

We knew it was a matter of time, but I had hoped that it would last longer, and that we'd be able to have a conversation about the transition to a big bed with him when it happened. With the advent of another child, perhaps.

I think that these routine transitions are really much more difficult for me than they are for husband or son. I really struggle with maintaining any semblance of a stable routine, and so when there's a change, it frustrates me a bit. Of course, such is the essence of life, regardless of a child being present or not.

How do I adjust to these growing pangs? It is possible? Right now it seems like muddling through it is the only thing left for me. It's a little like birth I suppose, the pangs of the contractions, and no way out of it but through. You try different positions, find something that feels right, breathe deeply, and settle in until it's time to birth the child.

Life is a succession of births, and with every birth there is always the loss of something. Some births are big and eventful, others small and gradual. Learning to accept this process is something I am working on.

Planning for Type B's

2007-06-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

This morning, husband asked me about making the trip to the Aquarium of the Pacific. It's about two hours drive away, no big deal for us. But I know that it will take much more planning than just finding what time it opens and how much it costs in order to make the trip pleasant. And, I'm already exhausted, just thinking about it.

I'm very Type B. Unorganized, free-spirited, and generally, jump up and go. But I've discovered that one can't do that with a child (especially if one is unorganized!) and so every trip feels like a major undertaking. I've had my son running around in shirt and diaper because I forgot to pack an extra pair of pants. I suppose if I didn't associate pantless children with neglect I might not have really cared - he runs around the house in his diaper half the day anyways!

I have struggled with accepting my B-ness for many years. I grew up in a houseful of mostly A's. I was always late for the school bus, my room a disaster, and homework almost always undone. I'm still working on accepting my B-ness - my house is still a disaster and husband (who is in my rough estimation an A-/B+) is starting to get fed up with me. I suppose I'm rebelling a little. I never did like being told what to do. (This another topic altogether.)

In any case, I've managed to get just about everything I need ready in 5 minutes by simply visualizing what I need and making a mental list in my head the day before. I've also realized the concept of diaper bag clothes, so hopefully you won't see my son running around in just a diaper anytime soon.

The reality of motherhood as I see it

2007-06-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I've been on a sort of self-imposed hiatus from posting. I've been going through a rather large transition, and it's hard for me to get everything sorted out and feel like I ought to write something when I don't really feel that I have something pertinent to write about. Ironic, since the topics are at my discretion. But, I suddenly feel like writing again, so here I am.

I seem to be "cured" for the most part of my shoulditis. I suppose I might have my therapist to thank for this one, although personally, I was the one who did most of the work. I'm not much interested in what anyone thinks I should or shouldn't do, since that's where the shoulditis was originating from. It's definitely highly contagious. Much to husband's displeasure, I might add. The house is a disaster and I really don't care. It's not a reflection of my worth. If I really didn't want to stub my toe on that toy, I know full well I'd pick it up.

I realized that for far too long I was attempting to fulfill some sort of neo-June Cleaveresque type of image. You know the one - her image is all to pervasive and in my opinion quite harmful to the realities of life as a mother. I'm just not all to interested in driving my child from activity to activity, keeping the house tip top shape (even relatively so), having a working for pay job (that I more than likely won't like), making dinner, and somehow managing to be sexy whilst I complete all these tasks.

I am a mother, but my life, my being, does not revolve around this one aspect of myself. I have other interests, many of which do not involve my child at all. I recently had a conversation with my brother, and I shared with him that I found going to the park with my son boring. He suggested what I had before believed to be the impossible: bring a book and read, while son played. Just so you know, he has two children of his own and has been a stay at home dad, so it was coming from a place of experience. I was worried that my son would injure himself in some way, but he assured me that even if this was the case, it would not prove to be fatal and provide my son with a learning experience. So, I did this. Interestingly enough, I was more interested in watching my son play, despite my interest in the book that I brought.

I think it's safe to say that whatever image of mother we see, we are not seeing the whole picture. I think of mothers I see, who appear to have it all together, healthy snacks and first-aid kit included. There is something I am not seeing. There is no perfect. Or rather, there is perfection in the imperfection. I know this to be true with myself. Some may observe me in a state of "having-it-all-together-ness". I am willing to allow those with this perception into my house, which is in a state of chaos - and this is not just my own perfectionistic standards, either.

How can motherhood not rock your world? I remember hearing someone once describe how their child would fit perfectly into their life, with a few minor adjustments. This was before I had a child of my own, but I knew (perhaps from many years of babysitting), that for them parenthood would be more difficult than if they accepted the major changes they would have to make to cater to a child.

Of course, my own story is that I expected it to change too much, and that I would have to sacrifice all. This too made mothering difficult for me, since I had no space to accept that sometimes I'm not interested in creating day long activities or baby food from scratch for my child. I tend toward dogmatism (18 years of having Calvinist theology indoctrinated into you will do that), and took the all or nothing route.

I have finally come to the conclusion that I must enrich my own life before I can participate in the life of my child in any sort of enriching way. So for now, husband will just have to accept more household duties than he wants.

Reading list distraction

2007-06-21T15:29:00.001-07:00

I had come up with a reading list for the summer, started Anne Lamott's book, Plan B..., but then got distracted by a book that had come in the mail, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter, which I finished reading a few days ago. It seems like I'm being pulled along another path, that isn't much interested in the lists I make for myself. Go figure. So, I'm following that path. I'll leave the list up as a reminder. I'll get to the books eventually. So many books, so little time.

Breaks, work outside of the home, and dancing

2007-06-18T10:25:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I last wrote. My mother-in-law visited soon after I returned (arrived the very next day, in fact) and that was somewhat exhausting by virtue of her being my mother-in-law (a somewhat obvious reason, I suppose). After she left, I was finally able to continue the retro-introspection I had begun during and after my visit to my past. It took me to some dark places, darker than before.

I know that I am growing into myself, and that these events served as nurturing water. More and more I am finding my true voice, discovering what it really means to follow my heart. And that there may be many paths that it will lead me down.

My therapist and I have been discussing the unholy trinity of my neurosis: perfectionism (also known as the all or nothing syndrome), the shoulds, and catastrophic thinking. And, then there's my natural tendency to rebel, so I've pretty much thrown the baby out with the bath water. Meaning I'm not doing anything I should do, even that which, regardless of other's expectations, I know that I need to do, which leads to the all or nothing approach - it's impossible to do it all, do it all well, and therefore why bother doing it at all?

Obviously, this thinking is getting me in trouble - mostly leading to guilt, so I am working on recognizing it, and then letting it be. My break is over.

I'm going to a job interview today. I need something outside of the home, away from the child. Since I'm not qualified to do what I really want to do, I'll have to settle for something that may be an interesting and learning experience and that pays more than minimum wage (even for this area, so pretty decent). I feel pretty certain that I'll get the job. They recruited me after seeing my resume on craigslist.

And then, I'll have to deal with child care. Ugh. I feel that my son is ready for it though. He likes being around other children. And, even if he's not ready. I am. The stay at home thing is not for me. Not to martyr myself, but I only stayed home with him because of him and what I felt was best for the attachment process. I can say now with certainty that he's definitely securely attached. My job is done. Haha. If only it were that simple. Child care will be another path in my journey through motherhood, as it is with many mothers. I wonder what I'll learn.

Normally, it's not my prerogative to share "the cute things that my son did today" here, but since it brought a smile to my face...there's nothing more beautiful than seeing one's child dancing to a Bach concerto. So much to learn from him. To dance to beautiful music.

Memory and Regrets

2007-06-06T11:45:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a short trip, where I visited an great friend, a brother and sister, and my past. I went to retrieve some items that had been stored for 7 years in the basement of a college acquaintance, since it was long overdue and they were selling their house.

It was the first time I was away from my son. I can't say I missed him nearly as much as I expected that I would. Then again, I never respond the way most do to things as I "should". Unlike many other "shoulds" this one didn't particularly make me feel guilty. It was a nice break. I need to be able to drink countless glasses of wine sometimes. This particular time included a college face book.

Which took me down memory lane...well, it's more like a dark forest path, actually. I had recently found a journal, which included my account of a failed relationship and how heartbroken I was about it. While I feel a lot of regrets about those college years - I never completed college (I had one year left), spent half of it depressed and pushing people away instead of welcoming friendship, and mostly seeing now that I didn't belong there, it was the path I needed to take out of my protected, sheltered life.

I ended up getting rid of at least half of the stuff that I had placed in storage. It was good to remember and then move on. I kept the journal to serve as a reminder to me how things are never what they seem now matter how depressed I am at the time.

I feel like Christian, the Pilgrim, who, carrying his load of sins is finally relieved of the burden (except there is no christ figure or cross in my story). I've changed in some way. I'm refreshed, ready to move on.

Now, to get reacquainted with my son, who seems to have forgotten who I was. Or so, the blank stare at the airport led me to believe. I'm not worried.

I wish I was psychic...

2007-05-29T15:44:00.000-07:00

...because then I'd know what to do for my son, who is currently ill. He got a fever Sunday night, and we spent most of yesterday just trying to figure out what he wanted and give him the sleep he needed.

I'm exhausted. No doubt husband is too, since the babe woke up several times in the night. I hate not knowing if what I'm doing is the right thing, and worrying that I will scar him in some way.

My therapist says I have a case of the shoulds, what-ifs, along with bit of catastrophic thinking. These symptoms lead to my diagnosis of massive guilt. I should...I mean...I need to work on that. haha.

Motherhood x 2?

2007-05-24T14:12:00.000-07:00

I keep thinking about having another child. I'm not really sure why, since, all logical reasoning tells me that this is not a good idea. Obviously, on some level, there are reasons. Like giving my son a playmate. Or, maybe, I just want to get a brood of kids to clean my house? It worked for my mother, hah.

I am not sure where I got the idea that it's good for a child to have siblings. I'm the middle of 8 children, and always enjoyed the liveliness of our family (well, at least when parents weren't around). I miss it a lot. I sometimes wish for communal living, but it seems hard to find in a society that is distrustful and thinks "cult" when they hear the word.

The question du jour seems to be, "are you going to have as many children as your parents?" Hell, no. And no, we weren't Mormon or Catholic (just to get that out of the way)...although the guilt of Calvinism rivals that of Catholicism. But that's for another post.

I think that I've romanticized my early experience as a mother. I think to myself, oh, it was so much easier when he was little and nursed and only pooped once a day. Ok, lady, who are you and what have you done with the real Maria? If I actually try, I can recall times where I thought, I can't wait till this nursing is over or he needs to start walking. Go figure. The grass is always greener, right? I know that part of this is due to hormonal changes that occur during the early months, especially when one is nursing. I managed to nurse him for at least a year, which was my goal, and god, I was ready to be done. I lost 15 pounds when he stopped nursing (contrary to popular opinion, nursing does not help you lose weight). Now to lose the other 30.

So, why the hell do I want to do that all over again? Especially with a toddler, who is constantly tugging at me, demanding every bit of me? For now, I shall remain pregnant free, the mother of one. Until I hold another infant and the oxytocin surge overtakes me.

Vacationing with kids? I don't think so...

2007-05-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

So, my most recent lament is that I can't expect to have a good time getting away at this point in my son's life (yes, I'm hoping that as he grows older, that will change).

This weekend, we went up to see husband's family. Thank goodness he misinformed me and it wasn't the 8 hour drive I thought it would be. This of course, also means that we will be making more trips up that way so visit. And, while I'm all for spending time with the relations, I'm a little skeptical about how fun that will be, considering this weekend.

My son didn't want to go to bed. He only finally crashed when we decided to lay down in the bed next to his. It was 11 pm. We waken several times to his cries (precursor to talking in sleep, I guess). He wakes up early. We go to wedding and reception, he's fine but tired. We take him back to the hotel for a nap...he falls asleep on the way there. We gently remove him from car and...he's awake. We hope he'll still go down for a nap. Nope. Not happening. We go to great-grand parents for dinner. He's tired and fussy. Doesn't fall asleep on the car ride back. In fact, doesn't go to sleep till 10:30. Again, with the night crying. We wake up before he does and and wake him up. Take him swimming, get packed up and ready to go. Meet cousins for lunch, then head out. He falls asleep and stays asleep for two hours in the car ride. He went to bed around normal time last night, thank god. Of course, it helps that he's back in his own room.

I was looking forward to this weekend. A chance to get away from this concrete jungle I live in...have some time to read...maybe watch a movie with husband after son was asleep. Sigh. Just when I thought I was starting to figure out this routine thing...and thinking I had a handle on mothering. Yeah, right. This was a whole new kind of exhaustion that hasn't even worn off yet.

Husband and I decided that we ought to take the honeymoon we never went on. It would be nice to just be us again. I can barely remember what that was like. All the more reason, I suppose.

Husband thinks that we should go camping on the beach this coming weekend. I'm thinking, I don't recall reading about this circle of hell in Inferno... Apparently, however, I'm a glutton for punishment (maybe it's the 3rd circle?) and decided that we could try it. If it doesn't go well, I'm going on that honeymoon all by myself.

Frustration, obsessions, art and travel

2007-05-17T13:11:00.000-07:00

So it seems that I cannot find a better template with a layout I like, so I was a little premature in my Upcoming Construction post. Sigh...I really need to learn how to create my own! Necessity is the mother of learning for me, so perhaps I'll learn some code. We'll see.

It turns out that I may be bordering on an obsession with Tori Amos. Well, it's more her music and knowledge (and the interpretation of that knowledge) that is most interesting to me. You know it's bad when all you listen to is Tori, while you are reading a book of conversations with Tori. I've never been drawn into the "fan" aspect of musical artists - I don't need to go to all the concerts, get the T-shirts and posters...although I am at the point where I'd like to go to a concert...too bad she's only touring in Europe right now...

I feel inspired reading about her artistic process, and it has led me to discover my own process. Not musically, of course. I'd never claim any musical artistry...at least not yet. If it's there, it's buried under deep layers of self-doubt. But visually and literarily (is that a word? well, it is now!) I am finding that my abilities are much closer to the surface. It is also work that I must do - but discipline I lack. It will come. I've painted more since January than I have in the last 7 years, so...it's progress!

Through some of her writing I've also been introduced to the sacred feminine, which I hope to explore more in depth when I have completed my current reading list. Which I intend to start when I finish her book, ha!

This weekend, we travel up north for a wedding. Sadly, I was hoping to be heading to Michigan for my brother's college graduation (yay, brother!), but it was not possible. I will be meeting husband's half-brothers/sister, and grandparents. More importantly, I'll get to see the place husband called home for 19 years. I look forward to more insight into his past.

It will be interesting to see how we all fare - my son is not going to be happy sitting for 8 hours. And this is where I thank the universe for music, books and DVDs. I love going for long drives...to see the landscape gradually change...the conversation meandering like the road we drive along. Someone once called me a "traveler" and at the time, I wasn't so sure about it, but I tried it on, and it fits, both literally and metaphorically. This journey will be one small trip in a lifetime of travel.

Upcoming construction...

2007-05-16T10:56:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to change the look of this blog - I hate the waste of space in the side columns - so I may be changing the look of it soon. I'm weeding through the different templates right now...nothing jumps out at me yet. But, you'll know when it happens!

Summer Reading and the nurturing of exploration

2007-05-16T00:06:00.000-07:00

I've just added my Summer Reading List under my Bookbag, in the hopes that this will actually motivate me to read through an entire book. Ok, several books, in fact. If you think of ones that I might add, please feel free to post. Over the course of this week, I will be finalizing my list and once I finish Piece by Piece, I have every intention of getting started.

This will definitely be more challenging since my son has entered his exploration stage. I feel torn between two opposing ideas. One is to allow him the freedom to explore and to monitor each and every exploration along the way. And while on some days, this is fun and interesting to me, most days I feel it takes me away from any thing that I want (or in some cases, need) to do. The other is to keep him contained, and his world small and limited, which allows me to do things that I like, while keeping him generally entertained (here enters Sesame Street and the other things that our wonderful electronic babysitter is capable of).

I suppose I don't have to choose...perhaps some careful planning on my part would get us both what we need and want. But, that's just it. I'm not inclined to careful planning. I'd like to be...but I'm just not a type A (and I'm still trying to be ok with that in a world that rewards Type A's so much more than Type B's or C's or whatever the rest of us are). Sadly, neither is the hubby...on Sunday we forgot to bring a diaper bag with us to brunch, and the poor bug had to sit through it with wet pants.

I do not want to quash his natural curiosity. I see it as a good thing. Something to be encouraged, despite whatever questioning it may bring in the future. I was much this way as a child...always asking questions, wanting to know things, things I wasn't suppose to know, I might add. I am amazed at how quickly he learns. I suppose curiosity helps (and the occasional cookie for signing "I love you" back to mommy, ha!). And then he experiments over and over again, like a scientist, just to see if his hypothesis is correct. It's actually quite amazing.

Then again...it can be frustrating. Imagine the television being turned on and off, on and off, on and off...and that wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that he then has to change the station to a non-station, which means lots of snow and the annoying sound that accompanies it. I think we need to throw the damned thing out (too bad I'm addicted to Ugly Betty).

So, back to summer reading. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

Happy Mother's Day?

2007-05-14T20:26:00.000-07:00

Around Mother's Day, I recall one vivid memory I had as a child around this day. I was about 8 or 9, and at school, we had made a craft that involved sewing on a burlap sack. I don't think it was meant to be a gift for our mother's, but I fashioned it into a wall hanging, complete with dowels, and on it it said, "World's Best Mother" or "#1 Mother" or some such thing. I put a lot of love and care into it, and in fact, an older girl showed me how to do a particular stitch that looked even nicer than the one I was using (I still can't remember the name of it).

I gave it to my Mom for Mother's Day. I vaguely recall her reaction, and recall even less seeing it placed anywhere prominent. I don't know what happened to it. But I get the feeling that it was less than worthy to my mother, despite all the hard work and care I had put into it, and so invariably, I feel sad about the whole affair.

It makes me think of how I will respond to my own son's offerings of love to me, since I know they will be soon in coming. It makes me think more about my relationship with my mother, as it was in the past, as it is now, what it may look like in the future. And this, of course, leads me down a dark winding road with little hope of a light at the end of it.

The more I think about my mother in relationship to my own mothering, I think I come to understand her a bit more. It was said by members of my family that I am just like her - and while I would argue that this isn't completely true, I do see aspects of her coming through when I interact with my son. It scares me. I did not feel that my likeness to her was a compliment, and therefore, I find that my impulse is to fight these flaws within me.

I know that sometimes I will fail my son (and any subsequent children), as my mother did me. I look at him sometimes, wondering if he will understand as he gets older, just how hard this job is for me, and know that I worked hard to be better than how I was trained. I know my mother didn't have it easy. My grandmother could truly be a bitch sometimes. As I work through my past relationship with my mother, I realize that she was doing the best that she could, given her resources. I can't fault her for that. And, I suppose I can't fault myself for doing my best either, even when it comes up a little short.

Outside

2007-05-11T11:41:00.000-07:00

So, I just popped out of the shower, which apparently is a place where all my good thinking comes. Go figure. At least I took a shower before noon. Anyways, I was thinking about the difference between the days that are not the greatest, and the days that are good. The main factor is whether I make it outside or not.

I want to say, My new goal is to make sure I get outside everyday, but I know that if I do that, I will invariably end up "should-ing" it and feel guilty if it isn't achieved. The shoulds are a chronic mental disease with me. We don't need that flaring up more than it already is (and it is pretty badly right now).

I suppose I feel a little chained to the house for two reasons. One, my son will only take naps with a specific routine and in his bed. He won't even sleep more than 30 minutes in the car, and not at all anyplace that's unfamiliar or even my arms (which are familiar). Two, it's where the food and diapers are. I almost invariably forget diapers or snacks or something when I go out. You'd think, how can I forget things like this, but it's me...not terribly organized, and equally eager about getting going as my son is.

Sigh...I wish we had a yard. One of the things I have to live without while here in Southern California. I'm not a city girl at heart. I was born in a tiny town in Minnesota, grew up in tiny town in Canada, and the freedom to roam and explore was wonderful, along with the sun on my face, leaves in my hair, and dirt on my feet. Oh, to feel untended grass under my feet. To play in a stream (with little worry about pollutants!) again. I want these for my son...and myself.

Today, we'll settle for wood chips and park equipment.

Portrait of a mother

2007-05-10T16:09:00.000-07:00

Today my son and I went up to a friend's place for "Mama Art Day". There were supposed to be others, but it ended up just being us and our sons. She had a wonderful little yard to play in (wonderful to me since we have nothing of the sort), and so that was fun. I had brought my paints and canvasses, not knowing what to expect, and since I hadn't painted in a pretty long time, I wasn't sure how rusty I'd be. I surprised myself. I just went with the imagery my friend has me conjure up, and go from there. The intention was to think of a time when all was well between my son and I, a time when I felt like I was a capable mother, and then to put it down on paper.

Well, I couldn't really think of a specific time and no image came to mind. Of course, my artistic process doesn't really work like that anyways. I just start and see where it goes. So, I started with mixed blues, then reds, purples, oranges...that created a frame around two figures.

It didn't occur to me until I was almost done what I had created. It was a portrait of myself, as a mother. There was a small blond figure on the right, surrounded by cool colors. The larger brunette figure on the left was surrounded by warm colors. As they came together, the colors blended.

Red and her various tones and shades, signify a certain intensity of spirit to me. Sometimes anger, sometimes passion, but it is a very powerful feeling. Blue is calming, soft, ethereal. I had placed myself on the red side, my son on the blue side. I realized the significance of this. My son is having a calming effect - diffusing anger, toning down the passion. His job, if you will, is to bring more calmness into my life.

I am waiting for the painting to dry...and then I'll take a photo of it and post it up for you to see. Normally, I am not one to expose my work - I am rather private about my art (I usually try to avoid telling others that I once dreamt of being an artist or my formal education in art - mostly because of their expectations). But, the idea wasn't that I was trying to create some masterpiece, the intention was to just focus myself as a mother and how that looked in a picture.

I'm energized, however, and may use the meditative activity for other aspects of my art. Given yesterday's post, I'm surprised I've managed to jump up this high. Well, that is how it is with me. Sigh. Perhaps I need to paint everyday?

Post partum depression or just plain old depression?

2007-05-09T09:38:00.000-07:00

So it's been about a week since I last posted. I went through some pretty low points last week. Well, it started about two weeks ago, but hit it's lower points this past weekend.

I think that I'm suffering from post partum depression. Well, actually, that's what my husband thinks. I've been depressed before (and we're not talking feeling a little low, we're talking not getting out of bed and wanting to die) so I think I'm just depressed (although I haven't quite hit the 'wanting to die' part of it yet). Of course, the things that I ruminate about are more geared toward my inability to be a good mother to my son, and techincally it is after my son is born, I suppose it could be called post partum depression. Either way, it's not a great place to be in.

A frustrating aspect of my depression is that I have good days and bad days, and that I seem to ride the wave of emotion like a roller coaster - I have really good weeks, where I feel great, and then whoosh, I'm feeling like shit. I don't think I'm manic - when I'm feeling good I'm not repainting the entire house in one night or anything. But it makes it hard for me to even say I'm depressed at times. I'm what you would call a coping depressive. People wouldn't know it by looking at me most days. Except the days I don't make it out of my pajamas or even out of the house.

I was doing pretty good after my son was born. Considering I was on my own for six months, I'd say that I did pretty stellar, actually. Then I started to wean my son off the night nursing. And I think that's pretty much where things took a downward turn. So, I suppose some of this may be hormonal. So, ok, if this is true, then what? Blame it on hormones gets me where?

I really don't want to go the drug route. I've been down that path a few times. The first time, I walked around like a zombie, my ability to intuit other's feelings or express my own, completely submerged underneath a shiny cloud. The second time, my feelings were amplified, particularly my anger, and I lashed out at a supervisor, which led to some serious consequences, cutting, and my flushing the rest of the drugs down the toilet because I couldn't wean myself off of them (not recommended by the way, the withdrawal was horrible).

However...yes, there's a however. I know that many times the shrinks will recommend the drugs as a way to give you room to work through your problems with therapy. And, I have friends who have managed this successfully. So, then, I'll have to deal with the guilt I'll feel for being both unable to regulate my emotions and needing drugs to do it for me, and being hypocritical, since I believe the we are far to easy to take magic pills for every little pain that life brings us and prefer to avoid drugs as much as possible.

I understand that pain always has a purpose. It tells us something is needs to be addressed. It serves to inform us to action. You break your leg, the pain tells you it needs to be set to be healed. If you can't feel pain, you have a serious problem. The pain I feel is telling me something...but what?

I thought that I had dealt with much of my depression. Heck, I've been in therapy off and on for over 10 years. Just when I thought I'd learned forgiveness, acceptance, love, grace, and found empowerment in taking responsibility for myself, I find myself back in a place where more self-loathing rears it's ugly head and lays me out for consumption. It's so hard to fight back...after a while, I can do nothing but offer myself up a willing sacrifice.

So, do I reject the rope that will be extended me in this dark hole, and suffer through digging myself out, even if it means it will take longer and be more painful? There's the part of me welcomes a challenge - I've always preferred the hard way. Or maybe it's not as hard as I purport it to be...it's easier to dwell in the darkness of life, remaining immobile to do anything self-serving.

The hardest part is talking about it with anyone in any sort of meaningful way. Most people, when they ask, "How are you?" are not wanting to hear "Really shitty, actually". And, even if they were, I am not equipped with the trust to be able to open up. So it's not entirely their fault, and I get that.

Now that I've rambled on...I suppose that either way, it doesn't matter the label, I'm feeling badly, and need some help. If anti-depressants can help me get started, it can't be a bad thing. My son needs a mother who is all there. Emotionally stable. More than what I can give him right now, that's for sure. I am hopeful...I see a shrink next week. Not soon enough in my estimation, but it's something to hang on to.

Not all sunny days

2007-05-01T12:47:00.000-07:00

For the last few days we've had some rather cloudy, humid days. Normally, I wouldn't be talking about weather, as I'm not really into the weather (I measure temperature in the amount of clothing needed, as in "it's a sweater day" or "it's not too cold for sandals"). But, to be honest, I really don't like it when it's cloudy. First, to be totally superficial, it makes me feel like a freak when I wear sunglasses on cloudy days (my eyes are sensitive and so I get headaches, regardless of blue skies or not, here in California). Second, it just feels gloomy. I'm not motivated to go anywhere, or do anything - although there are sunny days that include this lack of motivation. Today is one such day.

Motherhood is a lot like this. Some days are sunny, and I feel like I'm a fabulous mother and my son is a genius, and our little world is perfect. To be honest, I wouldn't mind a few more of those. And then there's the cloudy days. I feel horrible, I resent my son, and he's a pain in the ass. Unfortunately, it's the latter that seems to cloud up the day even more, when the guilt sets in. Then I settle on the couch with Oprah and a chocolate bar as my son runs through the house like a tornado. Not a good scene.

On these days, even the little things are hard to do. They seem to require so much effort. Take a shower? My mind runs through a list of things required to pull that off. Make lunch? I'll just opt for a bowl of cereal, please. Thankfully, my sense of care for my son is not compromised and he manages many diaper changes, snacks, meals, and whatever else I can wrangle up until I'm completely unraveled. I need to call on Motherself. She'd know what to do. She wouldn't be clouded with self-pity. "Get off the couch, young lady!" "You need a proper meal!"

So, I've managed to get some things done. And, what do you know? They weren't as hard as I thought. Maybe cloudy days are a blessing. Hard to see that now. It's definitely worth considering.

Names, names, names...

2007-04-27T09:48:00.000-07:00

When I got married, I decided not to change my last name. I have a lot of objection to the social requirement of a woman changing her name, while nothing is required of the man. And, more importantly, I felt the need to make a statement about being my own person. I was also in the military at the time, so not changing my name meant not changing the tags on my uniform or the paperwork that was bound to come with that.

My husband and I had thought about making up a new name to represent us as a couple - he didn't much care for his last name (and he's still thinking of changing it). We mixed both of our names but came up with nothing we liked. He suggested taking my last name. No thanks, Mrs. Veltman is my mother, not me. We picked random names from a book. Still it seemed a little contrived. And, I was a little attached to my last name. So we just kept our last names the way they were.

Then we got pregnant. We spent many hours talking about first and middle names. Four months later, we arrived at our top boy name. A month later, we stopped worrying about a girl name because we had found out we were having a boy. Now we had to start thinking about the last name. My husband didn't want him to have his name. There was a lot of pain associated with his father's name, and it was so common it had lost it's uniqueness. It was right up there with the Joneses and Smiths. I thought perhaps we could put it as a middle name. "No" was his adamant reply. So, we decided to go with my last name.

Since my son is with me often, most people I speak with don't meet or know my husband, so they don't even know this. When I do have to explain, some people (particularly the more conservative crowd) comment on how confusing it must be and will be in the future. I don't think so. I'm fine with it. Let people be confused. Let them ask questions. When my son grows up he'll have a completely different view of traditional societal expectations, and I hope he will grow to question them always and make a decision that is best for him.

Ultimately...it's just a name. "A rose by any other name will smell as sweet," right?

Ramblings

2007-04-26T13:35:00.000-07:00

Today is becoming a good day. I have been in a funk for a the last little while, and I was going to allow myself to be totally swallowed up in it until my nurturing self (we'll call her my Motherself) talked me into going to a mothers support group that I had been going to regularly for a while but had missed for the last couple of weeks. I should listen to Motherself more often. She's pretty right on most of the time. Before it was even my turn to share, I already felt better.

Then I laid out all my crap. "I'm in a pretty dark place right now." The floodgates opened. It was good to say what I was feeling and thinking, and to know that I wasn't as crazy as I've been feeling. I was reminded that this is how life is, a series of hills and valleys, undulating, loud and quiet all at the same time, dark to light to dark.

I know that I have a lot of things to work on. Mostly related to abuses I suffered as a child. Some related to choices I've made as an adult. "There is no magic pill," said the wise midwife. I should know, I've tried a few of them. So daunting...such hard work. I can't ignore it, I'm too conscious to pull that off.

On the drive home, I realized I need to mother myself the way that I needed when I was a child. I need to tell myself that it's alright to be afraid of the dark and that sometimes we just feel sad even though we don't know why and that's ok. I ought to treat myself the way that I treat my son - cuddles and kisses for little booboos or for no reason at all. Celebrating just being. Forgiveness for spilled milk because it wasn't on purpose. And, even if it was, still...forgiveness.

So, I shall allow Motherself a space in my heart and mind - her capacity for love and gentle care is so great that I cannot refuse. She's telling me I need to relax, no to-do list today.

My love-hate relationship with Attachment Parenting

2007-04-25T18:34:00.000-07:00

I'm just going to come right out and say it. I have a love-hate relationship with Attachment Parenting (AP). I've been struggling with this since my son was born, although, it was easier to do attachment parenting then because his needs were simple and easy to meet. Now, I'm worried that I'm not AP enough for some people, even though I feel the most comfortable around parents who've adopted this as their style.

It all started when I opted to use the stroller for trips to the store when my son was a few months old. One of the tenets (already sounding suspicious, eh?) of AP is using a sling/babywearing, which, by the way, I'm all for! However, after two months of sitting, hunched over and nursing my son every two hours, I had a knot in my upper back that just increased when I used either of the two different carriers I had (turned out the Snugli played a big part in increasing the pain, while a soft cloth pouch sling did nothing to increase it, it didn't do much to diminish it either). I needed to be able to move freely without a baby attached to me. But to me, it felt as though I was abandoning what I believed about parenting and developing a good attachment with my child. It's clear to me know that there's more to good attachment than the use of a sling, but I was hormonal and vulnerable as a new mother.

The guilt hit full-force when we decided to move him out of our bed and into his own place to sleep. Co-sleeping, another tenet of AP, had worked for 8 months - 6 of those, my husband had been deployed with the USS Ronald Reagan - but now with three of us, and a child who was starting to move around...it wasn't working. It was hot, crowded, and uncomfortable. This move inevitably led to weaning him of night nursing, because the constant getting in and out of bed to nurse him was so disruptive to getting any decent sleep. This in turn led to diminished nursing so that by his first birthday he was not really interested in nursing any more (extended nursing is not just a tenet of AP, although it does embrace this).

So, at this point, I'm not feeling to AP-ish, and feeling guilty about it. And then feeling like the standards are too high and that I just can't do it - thus meaning I'm deficient in some way. And thus, the hate part of the relationship. Of course, when I take a step back, I see that that problem isn't the standards or that I'm a failure as a mom because I couldn't follow the AP tenents to a T. It's that I believed that I needed to in order to be a good mom, not realizing that no one parenting style is going to be completely right for any parent - ultimately, each parent takes a style that works for them and molds it around who they are as a person. I was trying too hard to follow "the AP rules" that I lost sight of the fact that I needed to find my own style that reflected what I believed was right and true, but also was flexible enough to mold around my personality as a mother and the personality of my son.

The goal is to create a secure attachment in the child-parent relationship. The Attachment Parenting model is one that seeks to do this, and provides parents who do not have a model that will do this (I know that I didn't as a child). I had seen the videos of children with disordered attachment - the worst being children who would hurt much loved family members and pets (and one can only speculate that they then went on to become sociopaths). I did not want my son to become like that.

I wanted my son to feel loved and respected in a way that I rarely did, hence my almost fanatical response to following the AP model. Despite my "straying," my son seems to be quite securely attached. Just today, as I went to let him out of the sling at a mother's group, he clung to me like a baby monkey. I do what works for us, it's a little AP, and a little not.

A new season

2007-04-19T13:45:00.000-07:00

Spring has been upon us for a few weeks now. Obviously, for someone like myself who lives in Southern California, the effects are subtle. For those who are farther north, the snow might just be melting...or not!

I feel like I'm entering a new season of motherhood now, and there are some growing pains that accompany the joy and adventure of this new growth. My son is starting to babble in what almost sounds like a language, complete with sentences. He's also fiercely dictating his independence, becoming almost tyrant-like. Sometimes, he doesn't really know what he wants. It all challenges what little patience I do have.

That's where I feel I am growing the most - patience. The other night, he decided that he wanted to explore the contents of the fridge, and I decided to allow him, under a watchful eye. After what seemed like 30 minutes (it was probably only 10), I was pretty much done entertaining this particular curiosity. I told him we were all done, and it was time to go play, and wow, he was not in agreement with that! He probably would have liked to spend hours in the fridge. I just don't have the patience needed for that kind of exploration.

I've noticed this in other areas of my life as well. After about 15 minutes at the park, I'm bored stiff and ready to leave. I'm starting to think that I wasn't cut out to be a mother to a very active and curious toddler. I'm wondering if motherhood is just not my thing, period.

Of course, it's not like I have a choice, at this point. So, it's become a matter of allowing myself to grow into the kind of gentle, patient mother I need to be, and let my son will lead the way.

Another installment of wisdom

2007-04-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

Your children have important lessons to learn,
but even more important ones to teach.

What can they teach?
How to pay complete attention.
How to play all day without tiring.
How to let one thing go,
and move on to another
with no backward glances.
How to move and sit
with no tension in the muscles,
no stress in the bones.

Thus the wise parent learns,
and grows
younger every day.

How happy would your life become
if every time you taught your children
a new idea of skill from your world,
you stopped and watched until
they taught you one from theirs?
What will you learn from them today?

Excerpt taken from "The Parent's Tao Te Ching" #55 (page 95).

Slate article about TV and Children

2007-04-13T14:30:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting article I found about TV and children:

http://www.slate.com/id/2136372/

TV or not TV?

2007-04-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about television and my son's exposure to it. Having grown up, for the most part, without a television - I vaguely remember Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers - I look back and see that I didn't really miss much and am glad that we didn't have one because of the great memories I have playing with my siblings and friends.

Of course, when I was growing up, I didn't like it so much. By the time I was in High School, I realized that most people thought I was strange and weird, and when we finally did get one, I still remained strange and weird because my parents had strict guidelines about what I was allowed to watch. So, while my classmates were talking about the latest episode of "Friends," I still remained in the dark. When I was in college, I managed to procure and old TV, but I never had much time to watch it, and eventually it stopped working. During my time in the military, I then became addicted to TV. I was stationed in Japan, and the Armed Forces Network was my only link to America. I was also lonely and tired after work and found that I didn't have the same interests as many of my fellow sailors (the phrase "to drink like a sailor" is not just a useful simile).

Since then, I've managed to reach a reasonable amount of TV watching, but am now challenged with the question of my son's exposure and how to go about regulating that (or not) since I don't really have a useful model myself.

My first inclination is to get rid of it entirely. After all, I managed to get by just fine without it, and as children, my siblings and I were never bored, quite imaginative and active. This way, it would be a non-issue for me. But then, I've have to give up something that I've become accustomed to, nevermind the fact that my husband, who grew up with a television set in every room of his house, thinks that our son will be left in the stone age if he's not familiar with everyday technology.

As I write this, my son is transfixed with his latest favorite, Toy Story 2. We rented it from Netflix to see if it would be a winner, and so far, it's been viewed too many times to count. His other favorites include Shrek/Shrek 2 and Sesame Street.

We've managed to limit his exposure to movies or non-commercial programming. I want to be sure that we don't turn him into a materialistic, sugar-craving monster, which is my main concern with television for kids.

Different experts say that children under 2 really shouldn't view tv, and if they do, it should be limited to 1-2 hours a day. I'm unsure where this reasoning comes from - and quite frankly, I'm so sick of experts that I just don't really care to know. Perhaps this is irresponsible on my part, but I'm jaded. And, ultimately, I'm the one who has to make a choice that correlates with my child. So far, it doesn't seem to be negatively impacting his behavior or development.

I recently had a conversation with my brother, the father of two children 3 and 5, and he said that they went through a phase where all the wanted to do was watch tv for a while, but that they had since passed that phase. I also read a magazine article by a mother who found that the more she restricted tv, the more her son wanted to watch it, while the less restricted tv was, the less her son was interested in it. So, I'm hoping my son is in a phase that he'll pass, and I'm going to try this method of "no limits" in terms of how much (I definitely will try for as long as I can to limit his exposure to certain programming!).

Ultimately, when I have something I need to do, TV is a convenient babysitter. I'm not going to make excuses about that. I think that most moms would agree that at some point, you need a time out, and the easiest way to get that is to provide entertainment that doesn't require any effort on our part. If this allows us to keep from strangling our kids, then by all means - turn on the TV.

What is best?

2007-04-12T12:39:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking about how I go about figuring out how to make educated decisions about my son's health, environment, and activities. I'm feeling rather overwhelmed lately, as there is a lot of advice out there that is contradictory, and even if I were to base it on solid reasonable science or logic, either side could be right. So how do I decide?

And then there's the advice that I get (some unsolicited) from other parents that sounds good but then just isn't right for us, or sounds horrible (and thus, not right for us). Nevermind having to worry about what others may think of your choices once you finally make them! I'm not looking to get into any debates with anyone, really. I just want my decision to be respected just like anyone else.

Part of my problem too, is that I want to make the perfect decision. What is my definition of a perfect decision - the one that stands up to logic but also appeals to the emotions. Of course, this denies any consideration of what's best for me and my child, which is really what is more important than either of those.

What it comes down to is how to navigate the information highway, find what gels with my gut feeling and then stick to it, until something comes along and changes it. This does sound rather fickle, yet as a mother I have to be flexible. A child is not a static/fixed system. They are constantly growing and changing. They are part of the information coming to me.

So...I still haven't come to any conclusion here...I am sort of living by the moment. I suppose that's all I can really do.

Daily Rhythm

2007-04-04T09:38:00.000-07:00

I've been struggling for the past year to establish a rhythm in my daily life that allows me to get done what I need to, and also creates a stable environment for my son. He does have his routines, so now it's come down to my own self-discipline (or, in this case, lack thereof) to create a daily rhythm that allows me to get done everything I need to in one day.

When I started working at home, my life suddenly seemed to speed up. The little free time that I had, I would spend it reading, on the computer, or just vegging because I was so tired. Now I spend this time working or going to different social events (mostly mother's groups). And, if you've never worked from home, and aren't particularly organized, this is definitely a challenge.

I've attempted to get up earlier, but my son almost always wakes up when I do. The days when I don't try, I wake up to him wanting up. I know I need to go to be earlier. I just can't seem to make it there as soon as I'd like. So much to do! And then, when I do get there, I need some down time for my brain, which I usually spend reading.

It's a mystery to me, how one can establish a personal routine when they have a child, who's so unpredictable and who's routine is constantly changing. Something's got to give. Or, in this case, someone. That someone being me. But, how without sacrificing myself?

Mars & Venus

2007-04-02T09:36:00.000-07:00

Most have heard of the popular book entitled "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus." I have to say that most of the time the title just annoys me, because it seems like it seeks to further divide men from women, instead of helping them look at the commonalities they share.

However, I'm sort of feeling like I do come from a different planet than my husband. It's like we actually speak different languages. Recently, I said something, had him repeat it back to me, and it was not what I said...it had elements of what I said in it, but it was not what I said.

So, I know that there are biological differences in the way that men and women use their brains and that this effects communication. It seems a miracle we've managed to get this far along the evolutionary chain!

I think part of the problem however, is that our lives have become about our child. So what little conversation we do have, it's mostly about him - who's changing the diaper, who's doing the bath, who's cooking, who's cleaning, etc. It's our attempt on making it a team effort in running this household. I have to tell you, playing house is only fun when you are a kid, and you don't realize the full responsibilities required!

We did manage to have a conversation last week that wasn't about the running of the household, and it was really nice to just talk about our interests and to see that some of them had changed since we've become parents. It does seem that in some ways I've changed more than he has. Much of my life, my thinking, has become about mothering, childhood, and finding my role in supporting a family now. Sometimes I feel like I'm charging full speed ahead, and leaving him behind to figure out parenthood all on is his own. This is likely the result of his being deployed for 6 months shortly after our son was born. In any case, I don't want to leave him behind.

We have made it through some tough times, and I think that the more we take advantage of the opportunities to have adult conversations with each other, the more we'll be able to grow together. Like everything worth doing, it takes a little work.

Spring Cleaning II

2007-03-31T17:55:00.000-07:00

So, I never managed to find the cord to my camera to take a picture of the gigantic clutter mess in my room before I started in on it. It's still a work in progress, but definitely better than it was. I'm still waiting for the cord to show up.

Here's what happened. I have been reading another book (not listed in My Book Bag yet) called The Success Principles, by Jack Canfield. And, I've been thinking about his first principle, taking 100% responsibility for my life. So, I'm on the computer, but looking around at the mess, even writing an email to my brother about how I'm going to clean it up. I then call my husband at work for some other matters, and then, out of the blue (I do my best thinking out loud - very confusing for my husband I think), I say to him, "I deserve to treat myself better than this, and you as well, and I'm making a commitment to get this clutter disease I have under control." He was grateful (he's sort of a neat freak compared to me). So then, I jumped up and started to sort through all the piles of papers, magazines, and books on the floor like some madwoman.

Unfortunately, I've lost the drive and I'm only half way through. At this point it's one of those things I'm just going to have to force myself to do. I read somewhere that scientists found that when a person who is depressed, forces themselves to smile and look happy, the depressed person reports an uplift in mood. So, I'm thinking that when I force myself to do this, it will lead me to get more into it and get it done. Well, here's hoping, anyway!

Spring Cleaning

2007-03-28T16:24:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, I remember going through the spring cleaning routine. Everything was cleaned out, thrown out, washed, given away or put away. Despite my aversion to everyday cleaning, I enjoyed doing this. It was a chance to get rid of that which was dragging me down, and open myself up to new possibilities (like getting my sisters' hand-me-downs, which unlike most people I looked forward to getting!).

Now that I am looking at my own house (apartment, really), I'm dreading the thought of it. Mostly because much of the cleaning is de-cluttering (I have a propensity to collect paper clutter wherever I go). Goodness knows what's hiding under that stack of papers...a bill? Yeah, a little scary.

At the beginning of the year, I made an effort to get rid of many of the books I had collected, many of them I knew I wasn't going to get to read any time soon, or that had ended up as big disappointments. A few weeks ago, I got rid of my maternity clothes - finally! They were really dragging me down and I was feeling bloody frumpy, so they had to go.

It's so hard to get rid of the stuff I collect. There's always a reason why not to. I can probably out-rationalize anyone when it comes to keeping my stuff. But I'm realizing that keeping all this stuff is cramping my style. It's making things that much more complicated. I recognize a need for simplicity, and so this habit has got to go.

Most of all, however, my surroundings not only represent my state of mind, but fuel it. So, initially, I might feel inspired creatively and create the mess, but eventually, the mess starts closing in on me, and I feel like I'm going to go crazy.

I want to create a space for myself that is warm, inviting, beautiful, and most of all friendly to everyone and anyone. So, I'm going to ask myself: Do I need it? Does it make my space beautiful? Do I love it? If the answer to any of these questions is no, byebye, see you later!
(These are yes/no questions, no room for rationalizing!). And, to utilize the power of shame, I'm going to take a picture and post it so you all can see what I'm talking about...when I find the camera and the USB cord! ;)

Another kind of mommy war?

2007-03-26T11:55:00.000-07:00

Last year, when my son was 6 months old, I took a trip to visit my family in the Midwest for a college graduation, a wedding, and just to see my family, many of whom I hadn't seen for over a year. I spent a week in Toronto with my eldest sister, who's son is just two weeks older than mine. Toward the end of the week, which had been somewhat rough for her, her son being sick with a cold and all, she says to me over lunch, "I think I have it harder than you." I had the presence of mind to see that those were fighting words, and thought I'd just avoid the whole thing and replied, "Well, it's all relative." She says, "What you do you mean?" and I tried to explain that what is hard for some people isn't for others and vice versa. She didn't buy that, and not wanting to get into a fight with her (because clearly, I disagree!), I wound up just conceding to her.

I was pretty upset about this, and held on to it for long time (me=work in progress when it comes to holding on to things!). I had forgotten about it for a while, but recently was reminded of it when a friend said to me, after a group of moms we are a part of shared our struggles with motherhood and life in general, "I'm so glad I have the hard stuff I have." And she has some hard stuff, stuff that I don't know how I'd measure up if I had to deal with it. I realized that we all have our hard stuff, and that it's not a contest. I could have pointed out to my sister that I had it harder because my husband, in the military, was on a Aircraft Carrier headed for the Middle East. There was a time when I wanted to be recognized for my hardship, and in some ways, my disagreement with my sister wasn't because I realized everyone has their hardship, but because I wanted to compete with her (gets me every time how childish we become around our family!). Besides, it's all relative!

I'm now at the stage where I can see that what I went through was given to me because I could handle it and grow from it. And that's the way it works. Each mother has different strengths, different weaknesses, and as a result, different challenges.

And then there's grace. I can only account my ability to cope with becoming a new mother and then my husband being gone for 6 months to that. I look back on that time, and think to myself, How did I pull that off? Really?! We had only moved here less than a year before, and finding a community in which I felt comfortable was hard (I'm only now finding my niche). I spent many days at home, alone, dividing my time up between sleep, caring for my son, and a few hobbies. I think I watched a lot of TV, to tell you the truth.

But, back to the topic at hand...the competition. Why we felt the need to see who had it the worst is probably more of a personal issue that has something to do with our family and is really nothing new. But the fact that we couldn't look past that and join together with the rest of all our Birth Sisters is nothing new either. Somehow, we went from communities of mothers who supported one another to a society that expects one mother to "have it all/do it all" and do it all by herself! I think that we wouldn't even have to have the discussion of whether mothers can have it all/do it all if we supported each other instead of competing with each other.

At some point, we just need to sit back and listen to each other. Do what we can to support each other, because, let's face it: the world is a little behind the curve when it comes to giving us the support we need.

Motherhood as a Spiritual Path

2007-03-19T14:01:00.000-07:00

I was recently in conversation with some women (who are also mothers in different stages of their lives) about the new chapters in the personal story of a woman who becomes a mother. One woman suggested that motherhood is really a spiritual path in and of itself. This resonated with me pretty deeply, as I too, have experienced a kind of spiritual growth that I might not otherwise have, had I not become a mother. This is not to say, however, that one can only experience spiritual growth by becoming a mother. There are many paths.

I was not ready to enter this path when I did. It was thrust upon me by my own failure to calculate (when I was and wasn't ovulating). So, from the outset, I felt horrible. I had been considering the logical reasons to have children, and had come up with none. From a financial perspective, children are a huge liability. The argument that my child could be the one to change the world...well, let's face it, highly unlikely my child is going to be the next Gandhi (nevermind the fact that he/she might feel this burden thrust upon them - not really a reason to have children). I had reasoned that adoption was the best way to share my love and perhaps make a small change in the world - there were already so many children in the world, just wanting to be loved and cared for, it seemed selfish to even consider the desire to have my own genetic offspring.

But, my body didn't fail me, and got pregnant the first chance it got. Looking back, it does strike me as somewhat interesting that my husband and I were talking about having children the two months preceding the pregnancy. But imagining is much different than reality, and although I claimed to know this, I really didn't.

So, begrudgingly, I set off. During my pregnancy, I was like John Bunyan's Christian, hauling around a huge burden. I half-heartedly prepared, crocheting a blanket and knitting a bunting. I never did hit the crazy-clean stage that so many women apparently do. I never set up a room for my son, our decision to co-sleep a welcome excuse for the real reason - I just didn't want to make room in my life.

I did experience a honeymoon phase after my son was born. But then the ambivalence came knocking. As a friend of mine likes to remind pregnant moms, "It's not all nursing-in-the-glow-of-the-moonlight" which is all too true. I am forced to make more and more room for another being in my life, and it isn't easy. I need my space. Me-time. Peace from the madness that our culture has turned mothering into. A place where I can say, "I resent his intrusion" all the while knowing that those around me understand that I love him no less.

We finally decided that he needed his own room in January. With concerted effort, we turned our miscellaneous computer room into a bedroom, complete with bookshelf and toy chest. We even went so far as to buy a toddler bed (now, I see in an effort to force him to grow up much too soon). I am sad to see him go, and last night, brought him into the bed with us. Then I remembered why we made the decision to move him to his own bed - he is a restless sleeper, just like me.

I feel more tired and overwhelmed now than I did when he was just a new babe. He requires so much. And by this I don't mean just physical energy (although I am surprised at how fast those little legs move!). There is so much emotional energy required. I am not a patient person by nature. I love children, but their daily activities bore the hell out of me. And I must constantly fight the instinct to repeat my own parents' mistakes. I am being stretched beyond belief.

This is not the first time I have seen this path. It is different, but there are similarities to places I've been before. This is reassuring; I know that I will pass through, and when I have, I'll be all the better for it. This is the spiritual path of motherhood. It welcomes all who choose to enter.

Time

2007-03-19T13:33:00.000-07:00

Ahh...Time. The seemingly ever elusive, precious resource that factors into everything I do or don't do. The word itself seems to dominate my conversations with people and even my own thoughts (when I have time to stop and think about it! haha!).

Of course, this topic comes up mainly because I realized that I haven't written a blog in over a week. The week was crazy and unorganized. I did really enjoy myself, although the house is starting to get to me (I suppose I'm not as much of a Perceiver as I thought). For some reason I have a hard time creating a routine that allows me to get done everything I need to and leave room for the wants (perhaps my Perceiver side coming through?).

It seems to be a common misconception that mothers who stay at home with their children have all the time in the world, and that somehow we are just sitting on the couch, watching soap operas and eating bonbons. If that is all that was required of motherhood, I would have signed up a decade ago! There's a reason why babysitters get paid! In any case, I really don't have time to be watching much of anything, except perhaps the peanut butter sandwich that is soon making it's way peanut-butter-side down on to the floor. Or keeping my son out of the dishwasher (which has yet to be unloaded) and away from the chopping knife (sad but true...my husband found him toting it around two seconds after he had figured out how to open the dishwasher).

Lately, I'm regretting that I didn't do more of what I want to do now when my son was really little and spent most of the day sleeping or just happily laying there. I was able to sit on the couch, watching my favorite show, all while my son was nursing. Which I did many times because it is SOO boring and I couldn't figure out how to prop up a book and read it. So, now as I'm constantly chasing around the little rascal and just keep him entertained, I find myself with less time to even sit and watch TV (and 15 minutes of Sesame Street doesn't count!). Now, I'm lucky that I've made it through the first 50 pages of "The Bonesetter's Daughter."

And here I am, blogging! This is especially ironic because I have all these things on my "To Do" list, and I'm thinking to myself, "Am I going to even have enough time to do them all?" And off I go, to do them!

Farm Life

2007-03-10T14:16:00.000-08:00

Today we visited Underwood Family Farms, which was really fun. Seth really liked running around, and kept pointing at everything, referring to them as "Ba". We've been trying to teach him the signs for farm animals, and this was the perfect opportunity to learn them. Unfortunately, the way it was set up, made it hard for him to really pet any of the animals, although he did manage to touch a donkey's nose, which made him giggle with glee.

As I stepped out of the car upon arrival, the smell of the farm greeted me. I welcomed it back. To me the smell of manure and hay is preferable to the smell of exhaust and hot asphalt. Even though I didn't grow up on a farm, I spent many years living in a small town that was part of a larger community of dairy and cattle farmers, so I am not unfamiliar with a farm setting. So you can imagine both my disappointment and surprise when I saw how the farm was set up. It wasn't really what I'd call "farmy". It was actually more like a zoo, only with farm animals. And one had to buy tokens to get pony rides (and the ponies were tied up spokes on the wheel and just walked around in circles) and other little events. The food pellets were dispensed in machines that you would normally get a gum ball out of. Of course, despite this, it was a good experience for my son, and it made me reflect on the kind of life I'd like to have once my husband's obligation to the military is over (9 months and counting!).

Since we didn't so much as have a pet when I was growing up, I'll be the first to admit that I know very little about animal care. I'd like to think that caring for a baby comes close, but in the end, you can always give the animal away to some more competent person and know that everything will be ok. But I'd like to try my hand at having a few animals...lately I've been fixated on getting a rabbit or two. After today, I'm thinking, perhaps a chicken coop. My husband, bless his heart, wants a pig. Not to eat, just as a pet. Ultimately, I'd like to have a horse, but that's much further down the road, when I can afford it, and have the time to take care of it (images of "The Man from Snowy River" come to mind).

In the end, I'm wondering if this drive for a more rural lifestyle is really something I want and can live with, or if it is just some pastel ideal, led by my instinct to live a simple life. When push comes to shove, will I want to go get the eggs out of the coop instead of just buying them pre-cartoned at the store? The only real way to know is to try.

Nurturing The Self

2007-03-07T08:41:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I hosted a Spa Party for some of my friends. It was a nice experience - to be treated to arm massages and facial masks. Some of my friends even had their makeup done. Sadly, I did not. It was a case of putting others first again.

When did self-care turn into becoming selfish? Does being selfish sometimes have to be a bad thing? I don't think so. Having been raised in a Christian religious atmosphere that I no longer adhere to, the idea of caring for oneself - being selfish, that is - is something one just doesn't do, and this has been injected into my very core. I have come to realize that I need to detox my system through intentional self-nurturing, and to hell with those who think I'm being selfish. In the end, I'll be able to be more present and giving - this I know.

Here are some things I've been doing to care for myself:

Body lotion...a fruity smell all over the body.
Exercising...I'm not as fit as I was before the pregnancy, but I'll get there.
Napping...yesterday was refreshing for both my son and me.
Taking better care of my face and skin...I'm not getting any younger!
Hobbies...I am almost finished a little bear I knit several months ago.
Blogging...who would have thought sharing my thoughts with others would have been an act of self-care?

I've also released myself from the rules that bind many who try to fit the stereotype of mother. My house doesn't have to be perfectly clean, it's OK if I don't read to my son everyday, and two hours of Sesame Street isn't going to rot his brain entirely (although it might turn mine to a bit of mush!). Releasing myself from all the "shoulds and should nots" and allowing us to just be...what a concept! It has eliminated much of the mommy-guilt I had and allowed me to, ironically, read more to my son and actually clean up the house a little more often.

I've also noticed that as I care for myself more, I'm more able to give to my husband the care that he needs from me. This has made our relationship more enjoyable, and since we just celebrated our 4th anniversary this weekend, I can only look forward to it getting better each year.

SAHM or WAHM?

2007-03-01T11:01:00.000-08:00

I've just made the transition from SAHM to WAHM. For those of you who are not familiar with internet lingo, translation = Stay/Work At Home Mother. (Apparently, we are too lazy to type out full phrases these days, but that is another discussion.) So, if you "stay" you aren't "working"?

This is an interesting distinction, one that is similar to the "working mother" label that seems to have pitted mothers against mothers who've chosen different paths. I saw a bumper sticker on a friend's car that said, "All Mothers are Working Mothers." That's closer to the truth.

Of course, it is true that my work schedule is much more flexible - but when I am working, I am working. Usually during nap time, since there's really no way for me to get anything done while he's awake - he demands that much attention. There's no end to the playing and feeding, interspersed with diaper changes and often-time full clothing changes. I only recently discovered that I could manage to clean the kitchen with him wandering around, but several times had to divert his attention from the dishwasher just to do so...so it took longer than it otherwise would have.

I find it irritating that most people will say, "Mothering, it's the hardest and most important job in the world" and than later come up with and use terms like "Working Mother" or "Work at Home Mother" and thus diminish the work of mothers who've chosen to pour themselves fully into "Stay at Home Mother" work. That's not to mention the fact that we are not compensated for it in any monetary way, so it really is a category unto itself.

Staying at home with my child is really hard. It would actually be easier to go to work every day only to come home, play, feed, bath and change him in 4 hours. And, for an extravert like myself, probably a lot more energizing. Not to mention intellectually stimulating. But I've always been drawn to difficulty, seeing it as a challenge to be conquered. So far, I'm still working on the conquering the motherhood, and this WAHMhood thing has only increased the challenge.

Whatever I am or become, I will always be a mother, and SAHM/WAHM are only a labels after all...not job titles.

Food for Thought

2007-02-28T10:46:00.000-08:00

Here's an excerpt from The Parent's Tao Te Ching by William Martin:

41. Finding Balance

There are so many paradoxes in parenting
that it is difficult to find balance.
Some don't even try.
They just plunge ahead
ignoring the subtle whispers of wisdom.
Others try half-heartedly,
but resort to old methods
when they get confused.
But some hear wisdom's quiet voice
and make it their own.

They find strength in softness,
power in flexibility,
perfection in mistakes,
success in failure,
clarity in confusion,
and love in letting go.

Parenting paradoxes abound.
Don't let appearances deceive you.
Things may not be at all as they seem.
What's going on with your children right now?
Are you sure?
Or are you just making assumptions?
Buried in the most difficult of times
are polished gems.
Lurking beneath serene surfaces
lie turbulent waters.
Stay balanced.

[This excerpt can be found on pages 71-72]

To Vax or Not To Vax?

2007-02-27T10:32:00.000-08:00

I'm currently reading "What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Children's Vaccinations" in an attempt to better answer people's questions about why I've chosen to delay my son's vaccinations. I regret not reading it while I was pregnant; when he was just 10 days old, we did allow him to get his first vaccination, and then again at two months, because, despite my sense that I needed to know more to make a decision and that there was something I wasn't being told, I just went with it. It was a sort of deer in the headlights experience for me. The second experience turned me off entirely, but not for any rational reason - my son was inconsolable for about two hours later that day, to the point where I couldn't even nurse him. And this was not normal - he was so laid back and easygoing, many people couldn't believe that his full-fledged cry was as quiet as it was. So I decided not to take him in for his so called "well-baby" visits just to avoid the pressure I would get to vaccinate him every time I went in. I decided to go with my instincts. I didn't need a doctor to tell me everything was ok. I could see that myself. If something was wrong, I new well enough to take him in. I was fortunate...thousands of other mothers, doing what they are told is the right/good thing to do, have paid the price for this, as many vaccinations have gone badly.

Now, reading this book, I'm glad that I followed my instinct and stuck with my decision, despite many people's objections (and the evil eyes of a nurse). Not to be alarmist, but I feel a sense of duty to inform people to, at the very least educate themselves before they just go with the flow. The intention of the vaccines are wonderful, and no doubt I and many others have benefited from improved health and longevity of life as a result. But at some point, you have to ask the question, "Does the benefits that most enjoy outweigh the harm of a few?" One sick or dead child is one too many.

I'm not entirely against immunization. I have benefited from a healthy life as a result - I think the worst I had was the chicken pox, which I don't even remember. I do intend to re-visit the possibility of vaccinated my son when he's older, and when I do, I know that it will come from a place that is following my instinct.

Mother Guilt

2007-02-26T09:46:00.000-08:00

Recently, I attended a group of mothers led by a psychologist in which we discussed the archetypal mother, particularly as it measures against the stereotypic mother. We looked at the image of Leonardo daVinci's Madonna on the Rocks, as well as a Newsweek cover that showed a mother sitting serenely with a baby on her lap, and her many arms holding the different aspects of her job as the multi-tasking mother. She looks like a modern form of a Hindu goddess.

The difference between the two is that one is being, and the other is doing. The contemporary image is of a mother doing. Madonna is connected with her child, just being in the moment with him, while the doing mother is disconnected...it almost appears as though the child could have been pasted into her lap (maybe it was!). It's little wonder since we live in a production-oriented society. Success is measured by what you've achieved, and those achievements should have some external, concrete measurement. Being in the moment, with your child, nurturing your child does not give way to measurable results. No one looks at the Madonna and thinks, now here's a successful woman and mother.

How is a mother's success measured? Is it in her children's health? Their scholastic aptitude? Their athletic prowess? Their career path? Their eventual wealth? If this were the case, then every mother who has a child who is sick, a C student, poor at sports, working at a dead-end job that creates little wealth is a failure. Talk about pressure to perform! No wonder so many mothers suffer from major "mommy-guilt"!

I have felt the sting of the mommy guilt many a time over. A few weeks ago, we took our son to the emergency room because he was pretty sick. I felt horrible, as though I could have prevented this somehow, and that because I didn't, my child was going to be forever damaged (and it would be my fault and thanks, Freud!) Any time I don't do something I'm "supposed" to be doing (like feeding him a certain food), or do something I'm not (like going for a walk everyday), there's the twinge of guilt.

I don't think that a mother's success can be measured. I don't do motherhood, I am motherhood. And I'm not going to feel guilty about that!

The spanking debate

2007-02-25T11:01:00.000-08:00

The other day, my mother-in-law asked me if I was staying current with a particular bill that, if passed by the California legislature, would make it illegal to spank your child, and therefore, if caught, you'd go to jail for it. I had heard about it, but hadn't thought about it much. It does not really effect me as I don't intend on spanking my child - it really is an old-fashioned form of punishment that did not work on me, so it will have little effect on my son whose temper is similar to my own.

I must say that figuring out what I do want to do, and what works, is really hard. My son is very determined to get what he wants, and has discovered his screaming voice as a result. We have learned sign language, which according to some, minimizes the tantrums, but I don't see it working our case. He still throws tantrums.

Most of the time, it is rather funny, and I have to try hard not laugh. Other times, it is my last straw. I definitely can understand why some parents use spanking - there have been times when I wanted to use it myself. Of course, my rational mind tells me "what good would that do...it would only break down the trust you worked so hard to build, nevermind the immediate effect would not make him scream and cry less" and I just have to leave and remind myself, he is only one, and he is just trying to communicate and he does not have the words to do so.

I think the most interesting times he throws tantrums is when people leave and he has to say goodbye. It is completely natural for him to have some separation anxiety with his parents, but this extends to all people, old and new. He is so shy at first, but when he warms up, he is attached.

Since he is only one, I can hardly justify trying to punish him for anything at all. He is just expressive, and I can not hold that against him. At least he is trying to communicate and, because it is such a struggle, perhaps he will learn to talk faster!

What's your mother style?

2007-02-21T09:46:00.000-08:00

I recently picked up a book entitled "MotherStyles", which aids the reader in finding her personal style of mothering based on her personality type. It used the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator as the basis for discovering one's own personality type. It was illuminating in many aspects, bringing to my attention the fact that I had actually been denying my own personality from truly coming through. I am not, by nature, a organized, scheduled person, yet, I was trying to force myself to fit into that sort of box. Inevitably, the mother-guilt would come on full-force when I could not achieve this. Finally, I was free of these expectations. They weren't my strengths, but I have stengths that other mothers lack. And it's not about who's the better mother. We all have to work with what we've got. I'm the mom who'd rather play than pick up the toys...and then leave the toys out and go on to the next new thing. So now, my task is that I be OK with that. And to remember, as my mother always used to say, "Comparisons are odious."

Our culture has a lot of opinions about what a good mother is. A organized, sheduled mother who can multi-task like it's nobody's business seems to be the prevailing idea of "the Perfect Mother." First, there is no such thing as the perfect mother. I have yet to find one. Even those that look perfect are hiding something. Second, why put that on ourselves? I mean, really? It only feels good when you've succeeded, and in the end, it's a crap shoot each day as to whether you're going to pull it off. I don't want to go to bed at night feeling guilty about what I didn't do, worrying about what others think of me. Third, we are all doing the best we can with what we've got. Of course, there is always room for a little improvement here or there, but I'm going to make mistakes. Afterall, I'm human.

My beginning

2007-02-20T12:43:00.000-08:00

I gave birth to a wonderfully healthy beautiful baby boy over 15 months ago. But more than marking his birthday, it marks a birth day for me as well. That was the day when I birthed a new aspect of myself, the mother. It is obvious to me that part of that birth process was difficult not because of the physical sensation of being laid open. One would think that I had months to prepare for this. My mind should have been ready. But there is nothing, no books, no advice, no activities that truly prepared me. Suddenly, all my thoughts focussed on this little being, this barnacle that clung to me, this parasite that literally sucked the juice right out of me. I didn't like how I felt, physically, afterwards, and, more to the point, I didn't like how trapped I felt after the new mommy glow wore off.

As I descended to my fate as perpetual feeder, changer and soother, I slowly cut my pre-baby self off from this new identity. I thought, "Surely, this is what mothers do, immerse themselves in everything related to their baby" and jumped in. As a result, I fell into a slump of depression that seemed to deepen when I finally found some work outside of the home. I was a smart person, why was I talking about how cute my son looks when he dances? No one cares about that except me and perhaps his grandparents.

But the fact remains that I wear a new hat that distinguishes me as different forever from those who do not wear it. I can no more ignore this part of me than I can ignore my stretch marks. But unlike a career in which you can take off the hat of professional and replace it with friend, I cannot remove this hat. I am forever a mother.

I am forever a mother.