St. Louis Adventure!

May25

My intuition was wrong again and our new baby is a BOY! I am not really surprised, because my track record is terrible at intuitively perceiving the sex of the baby. With Lann, I was pretty sure he was a girl and was very surprised to find out at the ultrasound that he was a boy. With Zander, I knew he was a boy. We didn’t have any ultrasounds with him (a fact that, though it gives me “crunchy points,” I do actually have a tiny bit of regret about), but I had seven vivid dreams in which he was a boy and I was so right that it makes me forget or overlook my terrible track record on “knowing” in advance. With Noah, I was pretty sure he was a girl and I still sometimes wonder if he really was (genital differentiation can still be indistinct at that point of gestation). With Alaina, I was positive she was a boy, and was surprised to learn she was not. So…as I referenced in my earlier post, my feeling that new baby was a girl, should have been instant confirmation that he was, in fact, the boyest of boys! Also, looking back, I had these intuitive clues as well:

first ever pregnancy dream was that he was a boy. Of course, in this dream I also kept him “warm” after birth in a turkey roasting pan covered with boiling hot greasy turkey skin!
second pregnancy dream was of being shown an ultrasound picture and being told it was a boy. Right after that, they showed me another picture and it was a girl though (something that made me wonder about twins in real life, especially when I then heard two distinct heartbeats with the doppler on Tuesday—one on the left side at 154 and one on the right side at 135. My uterus also measures over 20 weeks at this point. However, actual ultrasound only showed one baby, though I did once again hear “two heartbeats” yesterday. Not sure what is going on there).
the night before the ultrasound, I had a very vivid, realistic dream of being in the ultrasound room and clearly seeing the baby was a boy.
at the women’s festival we went to in March when I was about 8 weeks pregnant, we did a “star power” meditation which included a small section about seeing your aura. I saw my own (white) and then at the same time, saw a small blue aura in my belly. I dismissed it because we don’t really “do” the color thing or try to gender label colors and you will probably never hear me use the phrase “team blue.” However, it did make me wonder!

I am going to be honest that I did feel a little disappointed at first, but the disappointment was not over the fact of having a boy, the disappointment was over losing the idea of the sister for Alaina and the “balance” of a second daughter in our family. There is a difference between being disappointed over having a boy and being disappointed not to have a girl. Does that make sense? The set of brothers we have in the family is so great, that I was hoping to repeat that experience for Alaina. However, it will also be fun to still have the brothers, our rainbow girl, and then the “baby” of the family—each one has its own special place then. Plus, the new baby boy will be a most excellent cousin-friend for my brother and sister-in-law’s upcoming baby boy and that will be fun—this baby is the only one of my kids who has the chance to be close in age to a cousin! So, that is nicely convenient. (Of course, boys and girls can also be friends, I know that.) I also realized as I feeling sad about no baby sister joining the family, that we didn’t intend to have any more kids anyway—so, Alaina was always going to be sisterless and a one girl family was totally fine with us all—so regardless of sex, this little baby is our “bonus” 🙂 I’m looking forward to seeing what he is like!

Wanted a belly pic before we left. 17w3d. Baby measured at 18w)

Little profile. Placenta is anterior, which I’d already figured out, and baby was really wedged up against it interestingly.

The tech did a couple of 3D images too, even though we only requested 2D. This is his little face snuggled up into the placenta.

After the ultrasound appointment, we headed across St. Louis to City Museum for a field trip with our homeschool group. It was great, exhausting fun! Unfortunately, my phone was at 18% battery and then 0%, so these are the only pictures I ended up with! (mouse over for captions)

I love finding goddesses in plain sight!

Sitting on a mammoth trunk.

The stairs up to the 10 story slide.

Lann suffered an injury!

Dragons!

Going on the train!

One of the cool things about City Museum is things like this—while the train is going around, other kids can climb under the set and into this “cage” kind of thing to watch.

Alaina and her friends volunteered to be in the finale of the clown show. I like how her little hand is raised with everybody else.

The “no skate” skate park. This is one of my kids’ favorite parts of the museum.

Another goddess in plain sight greeting us at the museum’s entrance.

After City Museum, we went to the Galleria to go to Build-a-Bear, because I’d seen online that they have big My Little Ponies and I wanted to surprise the kids with getting to make one. $100 later…but, it was fun!

We then met my friend Kate and her kids for dinner and had a nice catch-up chat, though the visit wasn’t long enough and the setting wasn’t ideal for catching up! We got home at about 10:00, after having left at 8:00 that morning. Whew! Bonus from all the time in the car is that we did come up with a potential name for baby boy. Not 100% on it though, because it ends with a “er” sound which doesn’t go so great with our last name. We already disregarded that for Zander’s name though, so why not do it again!

While not totally related, but still on the topic of family and kids, we have a new baby kitty too. After a brief stint as Rainbow Dash, her name is now Scootaloo:

And, my lovely roses are blooming and wild daisies too!

Kidbits

Apr16

I post a lot of little things on Facebook about my kids and the funny things they say and do. I decided to compile some reason moments into a “kidbits” post for today, so that I have it all in one place instead of lost in the Facebook ether!

When I finished getting ready for bed a few nights ago, I discovered Alaina was not in bed waiting for me, but was in the kitchen diligently working on painting her “fingernators.” She’d also put on lipstick, powdered her nose, and put on a hair accessory!

Speaking of Alaina, she’s weaned, by the way! It was not without some nudging from me, as it was definitely time and I was feeling so done. She still has to “snuggle nonnies” to fall asleep and the hands-down-the-shirt thing is another weaning process that in my past experience takes practically a year as well! Turned out that my middle child was the one who nursed the longest (2y9m for the first, 3.5 years for the second, and 3.25 years for the third!)

Earlier in the month, a family fun cookout/campout day turned dramatic when Alaina found an ancient bead in the bottom of the tent and put it in her nose! (First nose incident in ten years of parenting!) Luckily, I am married to a genius of calmness and smooth thinking. After some quick googling, Mark laid her back and blew into her other nostril with his mouth and the bead came out! Saved a trip to the doctor, plus sweet relief! This kid has spent an awful lot of time around beads to suddenly do this. It was too weird!

Last month, she conked out before 10:00, but then woke up complaining that her knee hurt and wouldn’t fall back asleep. She started singing a little tune, “beautiful day, beautiful day, beautiful day.” I asked her about it and she said, “it my favorite day!”

Lann finally talked me into setting up a youtube channel for him: O Zander Squadron. So far, it only has a couple of silly, weird little videos on it, but he would really love for people to subscribe and like (Rules for future are no real names and comments always have to be disabled.) He also got me to set up his own website and blog and is having fun adding content to it: O Zander Squadron | Fun movies and fun things to buy.

Lann and Zander frequently play sort of a live-action, talk through video-game-esque game. They earn different skills and strengths, one of which is apparently VIP. Last week, as they played, Zander was exclaiming over and over to Lann: “you got VIPness, you got VIPness.” And, Mark and I ended up cracking up in a very mature fashion.

After my class last week, I weirdly stopped at McDonald’s at 10:15 on my way home from class to get a strawberry pie (I know. But, they’re super yum). I saw a sign in the drive thru for My Little Pony happy meals and went in to ask if they’d just sell me the toys. I was super impressed by three friendly employees who actually went through every Happy Meal box at the counter to make sure to find all the different ones for me and even went to the back to dig out a Princess Twilight Sparkle for me too. I drove home feeling like The Best Mom Ever ™ and the kids agreed. Speaking of MLP, I am a little sad to see how my boys are kind of embarrassed about their love of MLPs. When they buy MLP toys, they put on sort of “quick and casual” persona and toss them lightly and nonchalantly into the cart. And, they asked me, “if you get Zander some ponies for his birthday, can you make sure to give them to him when other kids aren’t here yet?”

Lann still loves cooking, a while ago I heard him in the kitchen kind of talking to himself: “this is just how I roll. I’ll put anything into a cake pan…” A little while later he arrived with mini chocolate cake on a plate for me. (He made one for each person in the family.)

They also teamed up on another gruesome movie make-up job. My kids are…awesome? Weird? Funny? Creative? Horrible? I can’t decide…!

In February, the very super-desired Furby Booms arrived! Bro and sis-in-law, Skyler and Jenny, felt sorry for the kid sharing their one tiny Furbling and decided to grant their wish for like a magical cool uncle and aunt.

So, on my way to a faculty meeting at Fort Leonard Wood several weeks ago, three Furbies ended up left in the back seat and riding to FLW and back home again. The jostling from driving kept them constantly awake and conversing from the back seat. Sometimes I couldn’t hear them over the traffic noise and therefore alternately experienced adrenalin-spiking incidents of momentarily thinking I heard: sirens, someone else’s radio, the screams of a small child being run over, someone yelling at me, and something being terribly wrong with my car. It was a long 1.5 hours…

Look what I got last week! Red tent on the go (for vending at festivals, but maybe for using at women’s circles or events too). First picture had photo bombs from all three kids (can you find them?) and last picture was trying to show the shadows from the trees on the inside. (purchased from ebay via this seller.)

I also got a lovely new dress from Holy Clothing!

This month we’ve also flown kites:

Taken a semi-torturous hike at Blossom Rock:

Picked kale from the aquaponics greenhouse for dinner:
April 2014 073 Been pleased to see my grandma’s memorial hydrangea coming back! And, delighted to see blooms on Noah’s memorial magnolia tree:

Mark and I have created several new pendant designs this month that I am SO excited to unveil over the next couple of days (our spring newsletter will be out soon and will feature our new pieces as well as new free poetry book):

We’re getting ready to visit family for the day and I’m very much looking forward to a day off to rest, visit, and enjoy everyone’s company!

Releasing Our Butterflies

Nov20

This post is part of the Carnival of Creative Mothers celebrating the launch of The Rainbow Way: Cultivating Creativity in the Midst of Motherhood by Lucy H. Pearce.

The topic was Nurturing a Culture of Creativity at Home…

**********“This book is an attempt to put language to the reality of being the most fabulous, and misunderstood of creatures: a creative mother. One who answers the callings of her child – and also her creativity. A woman who says: I cannot, I will not choose. I must mother. I must create.”

–Lucy Pearce, The Rainbow Way

I feel as if I have a long and creative dance as well as a long and creative struggle to balance mothering with my other work. I recently decided that I’m done apologizing—to myself, to others, or in writing—about my twin desires to care for my children and to pursue my own work. I’ve been parenting for ten years. Though I’ve tried for what feels like forever to “surrender” to motherhood during these ten years, I just cannot stop creating other projects, birthing other ideas, and participating in other work while at the same time engaged in the deep carework, motherwork required by children. I do both and I’m done apologizing. My life includes my children and my AND. That’s okay with me. As I’ve been reading Lucy’s book The Rainbow Way, reflecting on my own work, and looking around my home, I’ve had a realization: While I have struggled and cried and planned, while I have given up, and begun again, and surrendered, and refused to quit; While I have been present and been distracted, created and been “denied” the opportunity to create, while I have nursed babies and “written” in my head the whole time; While I have been filled with joy and filled with despair and while I have given myself permission and berated myself and then berated myself for self-beratement, my husband and I have created a home and family life together that is full of creativity. I told him as I prepared my thoughts for this post: if we are doing anything right as parents, it is this–our home is a rich, creative portal all the time. Within the last month, I’ve heard myself say, “get your painting shirt” to Alaina more times than I can count, and paused to appreciate, finally appreciate the fact that in our house there are painting shirts by the table that are never put away. I gripe about clutter and I struggle to be Zen, but my kids always have the opportunity to put on a painting shirt. It is at the ready and it is saying YES.

In 2008, when my second son was two, I dissolved into the nursing chair in one of those moments of surrender and self-beratement and a spontaneous vision filled my mind: I was walking to the top of a hill. At the top, I opened my hands and beautiful butterflies spread their wings and flew away from me. Then, a matching vision—instead of opening my hands, I folded their wings up and put them into a box. I wrote then as he nursed to sleep and I slowed my breathing to match his:

So, which is it? Open my hands and let my unique butterflies fly into the world. Or, fold their wings and shut them into a box in my heart to get out later when the time is right? Do I have to quit or just know when to stop and when to go? When to pause and when to resume?

What are the ways in which my children can climb the hill with me? To be a part of my growth and development at the same time that I am a part of theirs? How do we blend the rhythms of our lives and days into a seamless whole? How do we live harmoniously and meet the needs of all family members? To all learn and grow and reach and change together? Can we all walk up the hill together, joyfully hold up our open hands with our butterflies and greet the sun as it rises and the rain as it falls? Arm in arm?

via Surrender? | Talk Birth.

Some time ago, in the days in which I had a totally different blog, I re-read a book called Big Purple Mommy by Colleen Hubbard. The subtitle of this book is nurturing our creative work, our children, and ourselves. It was in the reading of this book that I realized that being a writer is my primary means of creative expression and is my creative work. She talks about how painters “see” paintings as they go about their days, dancers choreograph, and musicians compose. I know my own very creatively gifted mother “sees” patterns in nature or life and imagines them as felted pictures or woven pieces (or whatever her current area of focus is at the time). Me—I write essays in my head. Just about every day I compose some sort of essay or article in my head as I’m going about my life. Probably only about 10 percent of those actually make it onto the page even as notes and even less than that actually are fully born. In the past I have acknowledged that this process of words being born within me and dying before they make it to the page can feel like it literally hurts.

From the book I saved this quoted quote from Emily Dickinson: “To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.”

And, one from Naomi Ruth Lowinsky: “Women who become mothers find that it is often in the crucible of that experiences in what is in so many ways a sacrifice of self, that she touches the deepest experiences of the female self and wrestles with an angel that at once wounds and blesses her.”

As I wrote in my Surrender post, I guess rather than balance per se, it comes back to mindfulness, attention, and discernment—knowing when to hold and when to fold. Just as I continue to return to my image of grinding corn, I continue to return to this inner vision of joyfully releasing our butterflies together.

As I considered the theme of this week of the blog carnival (nurturing a culture of creativity at home), a picture I took a couple of months ago kept coming to mind: in it Alaina is at the table painting with two paintbrushes at the same time. I couldn’t find the actual picture, but I did find an endless stream of other pictures that, irrespective of my own moments of guilt and endless mental machinations about how and why and am I doing a good job at this mothering thing, clearly show me a family successfully releasing its butterflies together. The majority of the photos in this gallery were taken on just one day. And, in taking them, I purposely didn’t get anything out to take a picture of. I just took pictures of what was already out, what was already on the wall, and what was already happening around me... (In my search for the two-paintbrush picture I did go back into my saved pictures and find some others included below that were taken on different days as well.)

This is a large gallery—click on an image to see the caption and to go through the pictures as a slideshow. Or, skim through them to the bottom of the post because at the end is my grand finale, concluding-thought picture! 😉

Life planning…oh, yes I am…sitting on the living room floor on this day was a saved diagram from 2010.

Basket I wove when I was a teenager and that holds soap in the bathroom.

Quilt on my bed by my grandma.

On the floor as I compose my post…

this one too…yes, those appear to be gruesome beasts tidily nestled into bunk beds.

A trail of art across the living room floor.

Small felted curiosity.

Movie make up at the ready on the table.

Needle-felted “O Zander” creation sitting on the table–collaborative creative project of the boys.

Painting projects on the windowsill.

Pendant around my neck–collaborative project of Mark and myself.

Handprint project in the window.

Sculpture by Alaina drying in the window. She’s still two!!!

Dinosaur gobbling breakfast?

Hooked rug by my mom upon which the dinosaur drawing rested.

Felted faces by my mom.

Birth rug by my mom on wall of boys’ room.

Birth quilt by my grandma on wall of boys’ room.

Another birth rug on boys’ bedroom wall.

Felted ogre on dresser.

Biggie paper on living room floor at the ready.

Felted monster ball on floor of living room–maybe my mom, maybe my son?

Foam monster on the couch.

Felted monster ball by one of the kids—note nifty spike hair.

Duck for farm playmat created by my mom.

Enderman stuffed toys created by my mom.

Bowl of random rocks in kitchen (pottery by my mom).

Wearing sweater by my grandma.

Drawing from homeschool co-op about animal’s adaptation to their environment. Z was very pleased that his beast survived to the end!

Masks drying on table.

Bowl drying on table.

Unfortunately burned prototypes for new pewter pendants on stovetop.

Mama pendant prototypes waiting to be molded and cast.

Latex layers being added to mask by Lann/

Next to mask in progress is another drawing.

Sketch by great-great grandma on living room wall.

Birth mandala drawing on living room wall.

Moon calamandala on living room wall.

Bellycast in hallway.

Birth art wall in hallway.

Pewter work in progress

Pewter casts waiting to be finished.

Sculpts to mold/cast with pottery projects in background.

Sculpting again…

…with cream cheese. 😉

Coming along!

Birth rug on my bedroom’s wall.

Sketch by my great-great grandma on my bedroom wall. I never met her, but I see her artwork every day.

Penny rug by me on bedroom wall.

Boxes/carriers by my dad on dresser.

Goddess talking stick by me on bedroom wall.

Penny rug in kitchen.

Lann’s mask is coming along!

Finished sculptures ready to ship.

Family wheel of the year stone/sculpture table decor.

Computer-creative work in process with box of jewelry supplies and sculptures visible behind.

Finished pendants!

Working on needle felting.

Finished project—from creative concept on paper (by Zander) to finished stuffed toy by Lann.

This is an “O Zander” creature. Very rare.

Painting at table.

Pouring pewter.

Pondering the possibilities of creating, mothering, writing, and computering…

Felting a hat…

Helping mama put pigment on sculptures.

Works in progress.

Playdough by Zander!

More playdough by Zander! These are ice cream monsters!

Movie make up by Lann. Gruesome talent!

As I set down Lucy’s book and the cauldron of my mind bubbled with ideas and the pictures I’d just taken of our home and how we nurture a culture of creativity within it, I started talking to my husband. Getting ready for bed, I excitedly explained to him about how we are getting something right here with our kids. Really right. And, as I took off my shirt to put on my pajamas, he started to laugh. I said, excuse me? I’m all serious here with my deep insights. Then, I looked down and I laughed too, because this is what I saw on my belly…

“Womb of Creation” art installation by Alaina. 😉

I see butterflies.

—

Related past posts:

Rebirth: What We Don’t Say

Birthing the Mother-Writer

I Just Want to Grind My Corn

What to tell a mother-to-be about the realities of mothering…

**********

ORDER YOUR SIGNED COPY of

The Rainbow Way!

Kindle and paperback editions from Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com, Book Depository, Barnes and Noble

or order it from your local bookshop!

Other posts in the carnival:

Carnival host and author of The Rainbow Way, Lucy at Dreaming Aloud shares an extract from the chapter Nurturing a Family Culture of Creativity.
Lilly Higgins is a passionate food writer. Now a mother of two boys, she’s discovered a new calling: to instil in them a love of food and creativity in the kitchen.
DeAnna L’am shares how visioning the New Year with your child is an invitation to be inspired: use creativity and resolutions to create a fun road map for the year ahead.
Molly at Talk Birth on Releasing Our Butterflies – balancing motherhood with creativity.
Laura shares some of the creativity happening at Nestled Under Rainbows and a few thoughts about creativity.
Georgie at Visual Toast celebrates her own unique culture of creativity at home.
Esther at Nurtureworkshop spreads the love of the ordinary, the delights of everyday things that can be an adventure of the imagination.
For Dawn at The Barefoot Home creativity is always a free form expression to be shared by all in a supportive environment where anything can be an art material.
Naomi at Poetic Aperture is a mother, artist and photographer who tries to keep her daughter away from the expensive pens and paints.
Aimee at Creativeflutters writes about keeping your sanity and creativity intact with small kids in the house in her post: Mother + Creativity – They Must Coexist.
Amelia at My Grandest Adventure embarks on a 30 Days of Creativity challenge…you can too!
Becky at Raising Loveliness explores creating with her smaller family members.
Jennifer at Let Your Soul Shine reveals how children help us connect to our souls, through music and movement.
Mary at The Turquoise Paintbrush shares her experiences of creating with kids.
Joanna at Musings of a Hostage Mother explains why creativity at home is important to her in her post “I nurture a creative culture.”
It took until Amy at Mama Dynamite was pregnant aged 35 to discover her dormant creative
streak – she has found lovely ways of tuning into it every since.
Emily at The Nest explores how creativity runs through her family’s life together.
Jennifer at OurMuddyBoots sees that encouraging creativity in children is as simple as appreciating them for who they are: it just means overriding everything we know!
Lisa from Mama.ie has discovered that a combination of writing and traditional crafts can provide a creative outlet during those busy early years of new motherhood.
Anna at Biromums shares what nurturing a culture of creativity means to her.
Zoie at TouchstoneZ argues that the less they are interfered with, the more creative children become as they grow up.
Darcel at The Mahogany Way celebrates creating with her kids.
Sally (aka The Ginger Ninja) of The Ginger Chronicles is continually inspired by her own mum and grandmother.
Just being creative is enough, says Nicki at Just Like Play, as she ponders her journey of nurturing a creative family.
Allurynn shares her creative family’s musings in her post “Creativity… at the Heart of it” on Moonlight Muse.
Laura at Authentic Parenting explores how being creative saves her sanity.
Mama is Inspired talks about how she puts an emphasis on the handmade in her home, especially in the holiday season.
Kirstin at Listen to the Squeak Inside shares with you several easy ways for busy mamas and dads to encourage their children to be creative every day.
Mila at Art Play Day always lived in her dreams, sleepwalking through life … now she is finding out what creativity is all about…. her inner child!
Sadhbh at Where Wishes Come From describes how picture books can nurture creativity in young children.
On womansart blog this week – nurturing a creative culture at home.

Anniversary Mini-Vacation

Jul25

I’m not sure exactly what I was thinking in planning a mini-vacation right on the heels of getting back from our California adventure! Post-vacation-survival euphoria may have played a part, but the main reason is that today is our fifteenth anniversary and it felt like we really needed to do something for it. Fifteen years is a pretty big deal! On our fifth anniversary, when I was pregnant with our first baby, we took a mini vacation to Elephant Rocks State Park. We haven’t been back since then. So, it seemed fitting to return, ten years later, with our three children in tow this time! We went to Johnson’s Shut-Ins first, which I’d never been to, and then went to Elephant Rocks the next day. We stayed at Arcadia Academy, a restored former boarding school (and once Civil War hospital) originally built in the 1800’s. I splurged and rented a “third floor apartment,” which was still comparably priced to any regular hotel room, but had two bedrooms and a kitchen/living room (with another bed and a pull-out sofa). I’ve wanted to stay there ever since we walked around the grounds on our last visit ten years ago. On that trip we went in and smelled cinnamon rolls cooking and wished we hadn’t reserved a B & B further down the road! So, on this trip we did it right 🙂

This was a pretty easy, low-key, quick little vacation and while I groaned and moaned about what was I thinking, I don’t have any regrets about going. All of the kids have mild colds and Alaina had a fever the day we left, which was unfortunate. Johnson Shut-Ins was pretty crazy/felt kind of dangerous with a toddler. While we had a really good time there overall, as I staggered and slipped in chest-deep water carrying both Alaina and my little purse (dumb!!! But, I needed somewhere to put my keys and my camera!), it reminded me a lot of the bad dreams I have about water sometimes. The Shut-Ins are kind of a “natural water park” formed by large slabs and chunks of volcanic rock that are resistant to erosion. Very cool looking and fun to play in too. Lann referred to it as: “Treacherous Adventure” and then “Crystal Insanity” when we started finding cool agates in the water. We thought perhaps they’d get even more visitors if they rebranded the park using these terms…

Elephant Rocks is a “tor”—a rocky granite peak composed of large, round boulders that kind of look like massive elephants. Alaina kept spotting “baby elephants” and also obsessing about when we were going to get to, “Batman’s Squeezer” (really a narrow rock passageway called “Fat Man’s Squeeze”).

I wanted to find pictures from our fifth anniversary trip to compare, but apparently the only pictures we have from that visit were from the dark ages of pre-digital cameras. So, just some pictures from our current, fifteen year anniversary trip instead!

: Hmm. Seeing this made me rethink the wisdom of taking a two year into terrain like this! Our family sure likes rocky places though 🙂

: The woman behind us is embroidering 🙂

: The whole trip we kept trying to get a new “profile picture” and never succeeding!

: Tiny first bedroom in our Arcadia Academy apartment.

: Big second bedroom.

: Living room area.

: Kitchen area.

: The boys were pretty sure we’d arrived at Hogwarts!

: Ready for some dinner!

: Chapel at Arcadia Academy

: I got awesome and took a selfie of the whole family using a timer cam app.

: Curly head learning new word: “cemetary.” I’m very curious about the history of these nuns who lived and taught here.

: Ah ha! Another “success” with the timer cam app!

: The kids were obsessed with getting to go to the Creamery at Arcadia Academy. Homemade custard in homemade waffle cones! 🙂

: Poor little sickie.

: Scenic overlook at Elephant Rocks.

: Boys and boulders.

: Trying…again for a profile picture. Instead, “real life” is revealed–tiny girl being dragged off camera and accidental choice of a “butt rock” to stand in front of!

: Hmm. This one? No! My head (and nose) are gigantic in proportion to my love…

: Rocking the timer cam app! 🙂

: Going for timer cam again, but friendly stranger foiled my plans and took one for us.

: The sky was glorious today!

: Interested by this mysterious symbol…

When we got home, Alaina tripped on a ball and fell backwards on our hard, concrete floor (though on the living room section where there is carpet). It made the most horrible “head-cracking” sound that I have ever heard (and I’ve had two boys fall on this floor as well!). She vomited copiously immediately afterwards and we were all freaked out, but then she stopped and seemed “normal,” so we’re just keeping a close eye on her tonight!

I don’t have a lot of marriage thoughts to share specifically this year. I have the same thoughts I already shared last year:

I personally don’t experience my marriage as being hard work or difficult. Though I do understand that this is not everyone’s experience, I have a lot of difficulty understanding or appreciating comments that I see repeated in various Facebook-type locations that come from the, “love is a choice that you make every day” angle. Really?!?! I have trouble getting on board with that, because it sounds like if you don’t make the “love” choice, the alternative is just naturally disliking or not enjoying your spouse? My love for my husband feels similar to the love I feel for my children—it is a constant, it is not choice based. It is deep, abiding, and embedded. It doesn’t feel optional, which is what the word “choice” makes it sound like to me. If you choose to love your family, you can also choose not to love them on a daily basis. This doesn’t reflect my own experience in my relationship or my mothering.

via Marriage thoughts | Talk Birth.

I read a similar article along this “daily choice” line in another blog post just this week (written by someone on their first anniversary) and once again I thought the same. Loving Mark is not a “choice” for me, it simply is.

And, as we do every year, we reflected on that longer-and-longer ago Rainy Wedding day:

…But the day hung like an iron bell
tolling rain, rain, rain
all down the metalled sky.

The stones stood dark and forbidding
as thunder upon the earth,
and all our tinseled plans
for a bright and delicate day
were washed away in gray cascades
above and below us.

Yet, there was another kind of beauty there:
Small boys slid like silver minnows
in that heavy green light between the trees.
Garlanded little girls yearned
toward the coming of the bride,
tugged at their mothers’ hands,
pulled at their mothers’ hearts
with the brevity of their innocence.

Family and friends gathered
and sheltering, made a chapel
of their bodies and faces and wishes.

There, in the unplanned darkness,
was unlooked for wonder,
joy beyond ornament,
song beyond instruments.

At last the bride came and like a white flame
blazed among her maidens,
in brilliance more stern and starlike
and vastly more magnificent
than the ribbons and confections
we had planned for that day…

via Rainy Wedding | Talk Birth.

Of Coconut Oil and Maternal Shame

Jun29

“It’s not your job to like me, it’s mine.” ~ Byron Katie

I planned to write this post on Thursday and I was going to open my imaginary post with: today has been one of those days. I didn’t manage to post, so I was going to post on Friday and say, yesterday was one of those days. Well, guess what, Friday turned on to be one of those days too and now it is two o’clock in the morning on Saturday…and no post yet! I’ve been hitting some parenting roadblocks lately and having some unpleasant moments with my kids. Moments that I’m not proud of and that feature me crying on the floor in the pile of broken glass (and broken dreams?!) as well as saying harsh things I later regret. Alaina isn’t sleeping well at night and I’m at that point in toddler nursing where I spend more time feeling assaulted than I do feeling warmly bonded. On Thursday, she kept me up until 4:00 a.m. and I felt trapped in a “hell dimension.” However, as is often true of mothering, sweet moments alternate with hell dimensions. That morning as I was trying to finally sneak away from her, she flopped toward me and mumbled in her sleep: babies love em mamas. Yep, they sure do! Earlier this month, she charmed my heart by commenting: “Me love mine daddy Mark.” Taking a couple of steps back shows me that being literally exhausted does not contribute to my parenting reserves and does not, actually, mean I’m a bad parent after all. I’ve been known to tell students in my Child Welfare class that worrying about being a “bad mother” usually means you aren’t one. I need to take my own advice.

So, I identified with this article about the whole notion of “mommy guilt” and how the phrase may actually be a cover for a more insidious and culturally-induced mommy shame:

Just one problem: “mommy guilt” isn’t really guilt at all, but rather shame. And shame, unlike guilt which is a useful and sometimes appropriate emotion, shame is just harmful. Guilt is “I made a bad choice”, while shame is “I am bad”. Guilt is something that helps us to notice when we’ve made an error that we need to correct. Shame makes us feel as though there is nothing we can do to make it better other than change who we are. Of course, changing behaviors is one thing; changing who you are as a person is another (impossible) thing entirely.

via “Mommy Guilt” is a Misnomer – Mothering Community.

I think a lot depends on personality. I know a lot of mothers who do not seem to take things that happen with their kids as personally as I do. Just yesterday, we had an incident during which my boys experienced a catastrophic brain failure and had a mayonnaise fight on the porch front of the house while I was trying to get ready for company. I ended up crying and ranting to myself about my pathetic talents as a parent (because I said something pretty mean to them about their lack of brain-powers). Another friend commented, “let me get this straight: your kids throw mayonnaise around and you’re the one who cries and thinks you did something wrong?” Um, yes, that’s me. I also explain to my students that it is really painful to know better and to watch yourself do it anyway. It stinks. Knowing a lot about the right way to do something, for me, gives me a lot more options of things to feel guilty or bad about! Isn’t that FUN?! As I previously wrote:

Being a mindful mama can be painful.

I am acutely aware of how often I fail, mess up, and let myself down in this work of conscious mothering. When I decide to go through a drive-through after a long day in town, I am very aware of each preservative laden, saturated fat heavy, factory-farmed, non-fair trade bite that crosses our lips. When I’m tired and have low energy for responsive parenting and I say “yes” my boys can watch a DVD, I know I am using it as a “babysitter” and as a “plug-in drug.” I cringe to hear myself say at times, “you guys are driving me crazy!” It is painful to know better and to watch myself do it anyway.

Instead of an inner guide, I too often listen to my inner critic. My judge. The perfect mama that sits on my shoulder and lets me know how often I screw it all up. I laugh sometimes as I reference the invisible panel of “good parents” that sits in my head judging me and finding me lacking.

For me, being a mindful mama is bound up in complicated ways with being a perfect mama; a “good mother.” In this way, it is NOT true mindfulness—I respond to my children based on how I think I should respond, how a “good mindful mama” would respond, not necessarily based on what is actually happening. Too often, I respond as I believe Dr. Sears, Jon Kabat-Zinn, or Marie Winn (The Plug in Drug) thinks I should respond, not based on reality or how we feel in the moment. This is the antithesis of true mindfulness. Mindfulness means an awareness of what is, it does not mean a constant monitoring of how I have failed. If I cannot be flexible and compassionate with myself, how do I expect to be a flexible and compassionate mother?

via Mindful Mama: Presence and Perfectionism in Parenting | Talk Birth.

Though I wrote this essay something like four years ago, I’ve not yet corrected this tendency and my desire to be able to do so, guess what, gives me something else to beat myself up over! I call this, “berating self for self-beratement” and then I berate self for berating self for self-beratement. Repeat. I am an introvert and I do enjoy my own company very much, but sometimes it is mean and mind-twisting company that I keep.

This post initially began because after the previously referenced night trapped in a non-sleeping hell dimension, an entire brand-new jar of organic coconut oil got smashed all over the kitchen floor by Alaina, because I foolishly dared to dash quickly to the bathroom while cooking. While cleaning it up, my other children did not grasp that asking me to tie their bathing suits at the moment was NOT A GOOD IDEA. Enter the mother-crying-on-the-floor-in-pile-of-broken-glass-coconut-oil-and-broken-dreams scenario previously alluded to. The whole experience stemmed from not listening to my own need to go to the freaking bathroom before fixing lunch. Duh. How basic. I just wrote about that this same week. I ran through the shoulding, the scolding, the self-beratement, the catastrophizing, a touch of martyrdom (everything I do is about trying to help my kids and now look!), a touch of guilt-tripping and blame (couldn’t you have noticed and stopped her?!), some yelling, some I can’t believe its, some semi-screaming about how is going to the BATHROOM REALLY SO MUCH TO ASK, some ranting about how coconut oil costs $9 a jar and why don’t I just throw dollars all over the floor and then sweep them into the trash, and then culminating in a hysterical diatribe about “what am I teaching my kids about handling simple little no-big-deal mistake by acting like it is the end of the world? THIS is how you’re going to grow up and think you should handle things.” SOB!!!!!!!!!!!

I read this on Facebook and said oh yeah:

One zen student said, “My teacher is the best. He can go days without eating.”
The second said, “My teacher has so much self-control, he can go days without sleep.”
The third said, “My teacher is so wise that he eats when he’s hungry and sleeps when he’s tired.”

And, I read this too:

If you ever see me out and about with my kids, you might be surprised at some of the interactions you might witness. For example, If you and I were in the same store today, you might have overheard my comment to my son that went something like this: “NO! You can’t!”

It didn’t exactly come out of nowhere; there was context. But that was about the extent of it. There was no empathy, no connection, no acknowledgement of what he wished he could do, no communication of understanding, no “I can tell that you reeeaallly wish you could take that toy home; We’re not getting it, and it’s OK to be sad about that.” Just a snappy, rude no.

If you saw me then and didn’t know me, it might surprise you to learn that I write and teach classes on positive parent-child relations. And if you do know me and saw that little outburst, it might surprise you to see me communicate to my child in this manner. And no matter what you might think of me based on this interaction you may have witnessed today, I won’t be offended. Because…

I know my son.
I know myself.
I know positive parenting.

I know that was not an example of positive parenting.

I know positive parenting is not based on one interaction.
I know my son will be OK.
I know we’ve had plenty of awesome parent-child moments before this one.
I know there will be plenty more.

I know our relationship will be OK.

I know other moms have moments just like this everyday.
I know they’re good moms.
I know I’m a good mom.

I know that in every situation, context matters, judgement never helps, and those moments are just small parts of a larger whole. Fortunately, parenting looks different for everyone and perfect for no one.

Kelly Bartlett

I was heard to lament on Friday afternoon that I worry that I’m a better writer than I am a person. I get complimented on my “lovely words” and “beautiful poems” and I think, how come I can write lovely words and then still yell at my kids? I’m horrible! (The maternal shame card is strong with this one.) And, I reminded myself of something I already wrote:

Womenergy moved humanity across continents, birthed civilization, invented agriculture, conceived of art and writing, pottery, sculpture, and drumming, painted cave walls, raised sacred stones and built Goddess temples. It rises anew during ritual, sacred song, and drumming together. It says She Is Here. I Am Here. You Are Here and We Can Do This. It speaks through women’s hands, bodies, and heartsongs. Felt in hope, in tears, in blood, and in triumph.

via Womenergy (Womanergy) | Talk Birth.

I also came upon a very old partial essay that I wrote when my second son was about two in which I tried to convey the every day, sometimes simultaneous and paradoxical dualism of parenting:

Every day I succeed. Every day I fail.
Every day I listen. And I say, “I can’t listen to you right now” or “PLEASE stop talking.”
Every day I am patient and impatient.
Every day I savor and cherish. And every day I am resentful and frustrated.
Every day I am focused and attentive and also distracted.
Every day I play and every day I say, “I can’t play right now.”
Every day I say yes. And no. Every day I say, “sure, why not?” and also, “now is NOT the time.”
Every day I hug and snuggle. Every day I say, “please stop hanging on me.”
Every day I please and disappoint.
Every day I center and pause appreciatively in the moment. And, every day I rush and hurry.
Every day I watch and notice and every day I say, “not now, I’m busy.”
Every day I am responsive and every day I am frazzled and DONE.
Every day I rise and fall.
Every day I hope and despair.
Every day I am captivated and captive.
Every day I offer guidance and a bad example.
Every day I am consistent and inconsistent.
Every day I make myself proud and I let myself down.
Every day I embrace and pull away.
Every day I am clear and confused.
Every day I am decisive and indecisive.
Every day I am empathetic and “I don’t have time for this!”
Every day I am encouraging and discouraging.
Every day I feel bonded and bound.
Every day I support myself and make myself crazy!
Every day I give and every day I feel completely done giving.
Every day I permit and deny.
Every day I feel a sense of promise and a sense of being denied.
Every day I am calm and exasperated.
Every day I am gentle and harsh.

Every day I hold and tend and nurture and protect.

Every day I am a good mother and every day I am a “bad” mother.

There are no absolutes.

On that coconut oil bad day, I then packed up the kids and went to the river, where they walked adorably in the water together:

Caught crawdads:

And helped each other in ways that warmed my weary and critical heart:

The forced perspective in this one makes me laugh as well as the fact that it kind of looks like she’s carrying two tiny brothers!

But, lest this be a too-tidy wrap-up of my post, while at the river, bugs crawled on our legs, the kids whined a lot, people sat on the cracker sandwiches I was making, the cheese I brought was actually rotten, and we forgot our crawdad catchers and I once again expressed non-positive-parenting sentiments about children’s brain-powers since I had reminded them to get the damn crawdad catchers like 8 billion times. The dualism again.

We got home and got ready for Lann’s tae kwon do class in the whirlwind and as I was about to leave, I saw THIS:

What’s this you say? Here is another look…

Yes, that would be some kind of Ben 10 action figure stuck to my wall with playdoh. WTH?!?!?!?! This is the very same playdoh that I complained about earlier in the day when finding the container empty—“hey guys, where did the playdoh go? Hey guys, can you find that green playdoh, I don’t want it to get stepped on somewhere.” When I saw this, I could only laugh.

And, then we went to watch Lann take his test for a yellow belt. We were adorable as we watched:

Lann did a good job overall…

We went to get ice cream and I was charmed again by the adorableness of my offspring and their friend hanging out:

There are no absolutes

just life as it unfolds

and I watch

and tell about it.

Happy Father’s Day!

Jun16

“Dads can play a key role early on in pregnancy to help mom and baby get the care that’s safest and healthiest…He’s a very important advocate, and can provide emotional support for mom throughout labor and birth.” –Tara Owens Shuler, Lamaze President-elect (via Five Tips for Expectant Dads to Prepare for Labor and Birth — Giving Birth with Confidence)

“Fatherhood challenges us, but it also enlarges us and reshapes our perception of what is important in the world around us. As we take stock of this new world, we find that doing our job as a dad is inherently honorable and respectful, and brings to us the dignity that goes with the territory. Far from being emasculating, being a dad makes us men in the finest sense of the term.” –Dads Adventure (via Happy Father’s Day! | Talk Birth, 2011)

“I share…with the dads in my classes—your most important job is just to love her the way you love her, not to try to be anything different or more ‘special’ than you already are…” (via Fathers, Fear, and Birth | Talk Birth)

“A few weeks ago, I spoke to a mother from one of my most recent birth classes. She told me something that her husband said to her in labor that I found very profound. Staff at the hospital were becoming concerned that this mother’s labor was ‘not progressing’ and ‘not normal’ She, in turn, became worried that she wasn’t normal and that something was wrong. Her husband told her: “There is no normal. There is no right way. There is only your birth.” (via No Right Way + Fathers at Birth | Talk Birth.)

It is Father’s Day! I know I spend most of my time writing about women and mothers, but dads are amazing people as well. And, conveniently, I keep finding things I’d like to share about fathers and birth this week, including this article by a male doula:

As a birth professional, I have worked with many amazing dads who glowed at least as bright as their pregnant partners. At most of the births that I have attended, the tears coming from the eyes of men overwhelmed with joy and relief at the birth of their baby have been just as wet as those of the mothers. I am not trying to equate the experiences of becoming a father with becoming a mother. However, I do hope to shed light on how birth professionals’ communication with fathers can influence the pregnancy and childbirth experience not just for fathers but also for mothers and babies. Like many birth professionals, I have worked hard to support the whole “client family” and honor the role of each person involved…

via Science & Sensibility » Celebrate Fathers; Birth Professionals Play A Critical Role.

And, just for a laugh!

15 Exceptional Dads Who Deserve Parenting Awards.

I’m also remembering babyloss fathers at this time of year as well after scanning over these Healing Resources Specific to Fathers: Long Term Healing/Perspectives – Still Birth Day.

I’m not sure if anyone remembers, but in early 2011 as I watched my husband bond with his new baby girl, I explained the following:

We have discussed how each of our babies has been a catalyst for big changes in our home situation. Our first baby was the catalyst we needed to move away from our by-the-highway-no-yard townhouse in a city and onto our own land in the country near my parents. Our second baby was the catalyst we needed to finish building our real house and to move out of our temporary house and into our permanent home. So, we are now wondering what kind of catalyst our baby girl will be? We have spent our entire married life (13 years!) saying that we want to live a “home based life.” I truly do not think it is (biologically) normal, desirable, or healthy for anyone to spend 40+ hours a week out of their home, regardless of whether or not they have children or who the primary caregiver is. I don’t think fathers belong at work that much time, I don’t think mothers do either, and I don’t think children belong at school every day. The home-based life idea came to us long before we had kids and it came from all the reading and thinking I did about the simple living movement. So, I wonder—and hope—that maybe our new baby will be the catalyst we need to finally face the fear of possible failure (and/or no money!) that accompanies jettisoning his full-time job and building our other “multiple streams of income.” Maybe we will, maybe we’ll keep talking ourselves out of it, but that is what our baby girl makes us feel like doing!

via Fatherbaby | Talk Birth.

That time has finally come and he gave his notice at work on Friday! His last day is June 28th and we are feeling a little freaked out. This is huge. This is also a decision that has been a long time coming, having tossed it around for the first time in 2001, two full years before we even had any children at all. We’ve gotten to a point at which it feels like it is less helpful to our family to have him at work than it is to have him home and that the costs of him working in his present job are outweighing the benefits. He has several different project ideas to explore and also a whole heck of a lot of life to live. I promised we’d take some time to “un-job” or detox from the regular work world for at least three months before we start trying to explore the other ways we have in mind for him to make money. He’s been sitting at a desk every day since he was five years old. It is time for a change! I’m feeling a bit of pressure with the shift of household wage-earning responsibility to my shoulders, especially since I make about 60% of his salary (and I work on a contract basis) and this means our household income is now falling by two-thirds. However, I also remember that he’s been in the position of primary wage-earner for our entire now-15-years of marriage and quite frankly, maybe it is high time for me to take a turn, especially because my work only takes me out of the home for seven hours a week (fourteen on the “heavy” sessions when I teach three classes) and he is gone for fifty or more…hmm…do the math!

Mark and I have always been wonderfully compatible people, but we do sometimes have our differences over parenting. I feel like he is tougher on, and more critical of, the boys than the parenting ideal I hold in my head. I have been terrible for years about butting in and not letting them define the boundaries of their own relationship and I’m also terrible about “correcting” or interfering with what he is doing with the kids. As I looked through pictures from our recent trip to include in this post, I saw something really, really clearly: I saw an amazing dad taking good care of his kids. It was woven throughout our entire trip. Just because his communication with them doesn’t always look like what I read in all my books, doesn’t mean it isn’t working…

At the Lego store at Downtown Disney (and, yes, he’s holding my purse because it was heavy).

Tigger!

Smooching on the ferris wheel at California Adventure. This may have been after declaring, “oh, well, we’re going to have fun without you!” to our stick-in-the-mud sons who refused to ride!

Watching a parade at California Adventure

Alaina’s first time at the ocean!

Watching the sunset!

Keeping a llittle girl warm at the windswept, freezing cold Montana De Oro side trip.

At Montana De Oro

Walking a sand labyrinth with daddy.

Silhouette daddy!

Yes, Zander and Alaina are both attempting to do the Vulcan salute.

Speaking of my husband’s awesomeness, might I also mention that I’m here at the La Leche League of Missouri conference on Father’s Day and who is here with me, taking care of the kids, driving, etc., so that I can do something important to me. I really appreciate him!

Also, I can’t let Father’s Day go by without a picture of me with my own dad! These were taken in April when my grandma was sick.

I really appreciate him too!

Happy Father’s Day!

Birthdays! (and lots of other stuff)

May20

My birthday was at the beginning of this month. I uploaded some pictures and was going to just post a quick post, but then some days passed and then some more days. I added some more pictures and thought of more things to write and it has just been languishing in my drafts folder. Things keep happening and so I think I’ll add a couple more pictures before I post, blah, blah, blah. I almost deleted the whole thing since now May is practically over and my bday was weeks ago, but since I bothering uploading the pix, I’m just going to post it!

May is a busy month for us. It is my birthday and then Mother’s Day and then my mom’s birthday and my dad’s birthday and Zander’s birthday. We also have a whole group of our work party friends who have May birthdays (and playgroup friends too!). May 12th was the 18th anniversary of my first date with my husband. May 16th was the fifteenth anniversary of my college graduation. I feel like I’m getting old! And, it is weird to think about how close that college student girl feels and also how very far away she feels. My parents both turned 60—I had a surprise party/healing ritual for my mom as part of our spring women’s retreat as well as a ceremony for our 12-year-old work party friend whose birthday was the same day. On Mother’s Day, we had a family memorial ceremony for my grandma. In the middle of all these celebrations, I’ve been wrapping up the school session (including grading almost 100 papers…split up in two batches of almost 50), preparing for the summer school session, plotting with Mark about him quitting his job, trying to help motherbabies breastfeed happily, trying to stick with some kind of homeschool “schedule” for my kids (using the term extremely loosely). Oh yeah, and my tiny little sweet daughter also had major dental work under general anesthesia last Tuesday. One of my Facebook friends pointed out that no wonder I’ve been feeling taxed. Yeah, duh. I don’t know why I can’t extend myself that grace. Instead, I’ve been berating myself at various intervals about my “inability” to handle it all. I’ve also been planning our big trip to California. $2300 later and WAY too many hours thinking, checking, and strategizing, I ended up with five plane tickets and we’re going. We decided to to go ahead and make a full vacation out of it—Disneyland, tourmaline mining, Legoland, and Pismo Beach! My grandma’s committal service (which I am planning and facilitating) and her celebration of life luncheon is in Fresno in the middle of our trip.

This week as I tried to finish those last bleeping papers, I found out that I’d made a mistake with our plane tickets—having a p.m. flight from San Diego to Fresno rather than the a.m. flight I thought we had. I almost lost it. Flipped out. I’m serious. I felt like I had officially exceeded my actual ability to cope and that I may possibly break down in some way. More. Than. Humanly. Possible. To. Handle. As it was, we made the semi-bizarre choice to just buy some new tickets that restored the “rightful” a.m. flight schedule. These middle-of-the-journey tickets were only $68 each and we decided it was really a fairly trivial amount and we should just do it. We’re taking our family of five to CA with carry-on luggage only and we’re packing like a boss! Seriously, we’re rocking this thing.

Oh, and just this afternoon I also finished my twelfth class for my D.Min degree. I’ve got about 14 left, plus my dissertation. I have three in progress and signed up for two more to start during the summer session. How do I do it?!?!? Heck if I know. 😉 Maybe it is time to feel impressed at my own capacities again rather than mad at myself for not getting more done, for being “behind,” for staying up too late, for taking too long to return phone calls, for leaving some emails unanswered and books unreviewed, for being sometimes short-tempered, for screwing up a.m. and p.m., for not getting around to the blog posts I’d hoped to write, for not keeping up with requests for new sculptures, for not having a birthday surprise of some kind for my dad too, and for never feeling “finished” enough to rest.

Here is what I originally swiped from my Facebook to share about my birthday:

Uh oh. I spent the first 8 minutes of my 35th year still working on these dang bibliographies. This has been my worst/least productive grading stint yet (the CA trip planning/purchasing ate up my usual “free” day). I’m determined to have a FREE day tomorrow (okay, technically, today, but it doesn’t count until I go to bed!)–I’m going to wallow around in books and listen to guided meditations (you know, with the three kids climbing on me!) and plan rituals and celebrations and not do anything I don’t feel like doing 🙂

It is SO flipping hard to focus on grading these bibliographies when my brain is turning over Disneyland plans, hotel reservations, car rental, and also finding just the *right* stuff for my grandma’s memorial service. The good news is that I have some really rocking students this session and they make some of the grading easy!

—

Later update:

Thirty-four years ago I was born! As my birthday present to myself, I DID manage to finish grading the last bibliographies and I’m taking the day off to hang around and wallow in books. I think I might do a tech-off day (or, at least, a class-off day!) Oh, and I bought two tiny little Japanese dolls for myself at Goodwill too. I do birthdays right!

When I wake up and hear rainfall on my birthday I always feel like the planet is wishing me a happy birthday too (there was a heavy rainstorm the day I was born). Alaina told me I should have a cake with “nonnie babies” on it. On my actual birthday, my mom took me to a tea room in a neighboring town for a birthday lunch and then I came home with three kinds of tea and the kids and I had a tea party! (in many ways an excuse to eat sugar cubes and this involves sort of obsessive negotiation over them rather than just enjoying ourselves!) I asked the boys if they would play with Alaina so I could have an easier time getting ready to go. After about ten minutes, Lann said, “whew, she’s pretty much like an energy tick.” I rolled! I love having a nine-year-old and a toddler. So much different and easier than having a toddler and a preschooler was.

Okay, so here is a gallery of the pictures I meant to post on several occasions, plus some more I just added in today:

: Birthday rosebush from my good friend!

: Kids and I have a sort-of-fun tea party after my birthday lunch.

: Alaina became obsessed with this mother-baby butterfly card from The Mother’s Wisdom deck. She really, really wanted to be able to “hold. dat. bufly. baby.”

: Birthday sculpture by Zander already shared in prior post.

: Mark made me a nifty necklace with a lobster claw where a pendant would usually go, so that I can swap out central pendants at will, or layer multiples together like I did with these two beauties that I also got for my birthday.

: Tiniest Shaker carrier ever! My dad made this for me.

: Sculpture by Lann for my birthday (shared in prior post).

: Mini Shaker box and carrier by my dad.

: Little Japanese dolls from Goodwill—one has a baby inside! (they both are supposed to, but one is missing)

: Stonehenge necklace from myself.

: Bracelet of awesomeness.

: Mark surprised me with this cool bronze Artemis statue.

: Birthday rosebush, Hathor, and tiny crocheted Goddess of Willendorf

: The tinest crocheted Goddess of Willendorf by my talented mother. She is the coolest.

: Lunch at the adorable little tea room in Licking, MO.

: First attempt at the crocheted goddess.

: Second attempt.

: Hathor—I requested her because she was described as “Goddess for the Exhausted.”

: Lilacs bloomed! Oh wait…this was the ONLY flower on the whole bush.

: My friend helped me plant elderberry plants during the work party we had at our house the day after my birthday.

: Alaina scoping out the amazing progress the work party made on the aquaponics system in the greenhouse.

: How much work is it to get 12 people arranged for a group photo with a timer cam app after having a memorial ceremony?

: Actually, only two shots and we look amazing, if I do say so myself (my timer cam app and that is why I’m crammed in with awkward legs).

: Baby chicks hatched on Mother’s Day. Me loves ’em!

: Alaina loves them too!

: Another good friend made and embroidered this shirt and jumper for one of my dolls. I love it! No one has made me doll clothes since my grandma used to. Isn’t she cute? My friend said it was from her inner child to mine 🙂

: Curly-haired cutie playing at the river during a friend’s birthday party.

: Arranging “tools.”

: The memorial blue hydrangea we planted for my grandma.

: The day after surgery: showing off new teeth (the previously poorly repaired ones WERE able to be saved!) as well as a new baby chick!

: Beautiful print of a babyloss mandala by Amy Swagman. My mom surprised me with this for my birthday after thoughtfully contributing to our Amethyst Network fundraiser and receiving the print as a premium.

: I took this picture of my precious, sacred overlook in the woods, so that I can look at it while traveling.

: Lann finished his first year of gymnastics and got a medal at their spring show!

: This one almost makes me cry–it was amazing to see his confidence increase over the past year and I feel like a “good” homeschooling mom to be taking him to classes based on his own interests. I also think it is really good for him to interact with and develop relationships with people outside of my direct scrutiny.

: Set of trading cards Lann drew for me for Mother’s Day.

: My sad little groggy post-surgical sweetie.

: Right before going in for her dental work.

: Maiden threshold cord.

: Spring motherhood and healing altar set up for our spring women’s retreat.

: While we were having ceremonies, Alaina was chilling at the river with our friends. When I saw this picture via text, I also felt like crying to see my big girl!

: Right after the close of the healing cermeony/birthday ritual for my mom.

: Just today we had a substitute birthday for Zander since we will be gone on his actual birthday (embarking on that screwed up time San Diego to Fresno flight…twice if we want to!)

: For his birthday party, I ordered movie makeup supplies ala Face Off and Alaina jumped in on the action and made herself have a “ceepy arm.”

: Zander working on putting makeup onto his latex scar (not pre-made, we made them from scratch with liquid latex!)

: This is a bad close-eye special, but I had to include it because I was so proud of my first foray into “special effects” makeup. I do not have enough talent to take this show on the road, but I was stil happy with how it turned out.

: Zander’s scar and make up work looked amazing!

: And, so did Lann’s!

: And, I gifted myself with (yes, *another*) new ring. This one (the one with the malachite stone on my ring finger) is a “travel” ring present for myself to ease my jitters at traveling away from my beautiful home and woods.

Birth Stories by Two Year Olds…

May9

With each of my kids when they are somewhere between two and three years old, I feel inspired to ask them if they remember when they were born. They always say, “yes,” and I say, “tell me about it” and they do. Lann’s story was a succinct and accurate version of what happened. He said:

Toddlers can do birth art too! Love the placenta in a bowl and the baby attached to the mama with cord (yes, I know the two are mutually exclusive, but I love it anyway!)

Toddlers can do birth art too! Lann drew this after Zander was born. Love the placenta in a bowl and the baby attached to the mama with cord (yes, I know the two are mutually exclusive, but I love it anyway!)

Swimming
Swimming down out of mama.
Crying!
Nursies.
Happy now.

As I’ve written before, he did start crying loudly with only his head sticking out. Almost immediately after he was born, I put him to my breast offering him what I spontaneously called “nursies” and he was, in fact, then happy.

I asked Zander on his third birthday and his version of his birth was as follows:

First you saw a little head poking out.
Then a little arm.
Then another little arm.
And another and another.
And me was little alien.

He was, in fact, born slowly like this with head emerging and then arms and then upper body and then the rest of him. I asked him what happened to his extra arms and he said:

They actually melted.

He was nursing at the time and paused, popped off and said:

and, my extra eye melted too…

That’s my little Zander for you!

I love how the baby looks like it is “floating” in this one.

Yesterday morning, I spontaneously asked Alaina if she remembered being born and like the others she said yes. I asked her what happened and she said:

My baby! My baby!

I asked, “did you hear mama saying that?”

She said yes and then said,

Now, nonnies. Then she just gazed off into the distance like she was remembering.

I asked her if she remembered anything else and she repeated the above. Shortest of the children’s birth stories, but also distilled to its essence 😉

I’m curious to know if other people ask their children this question and what kind of responses to you get? I love each of my children’s birth stories as told by them!

Both boys made me a birth art sculpture for my birthday this year and each is about a baby being born:

Zander’s sculpture: The Goddess of Birth

Lann’s sculpture.

Talk Books: The Art of Family

May2

(Amazon affiliate link included)

Last month I finished reading The Art of Family by Gina Bria. I’ve already quoted it here a couple of times and I’d like to offer another series of quotes and insights I enjoyed from this book.

We will have doubts about our depth of relationships with our children. Questions will haunt us. (If a baby-sitter picks them up at school today, will they be irrevocably damaged?) But to a parent, doubt is a way of asking all the right questions. What we so often experience as doubt is really the process of creating ongoing relationships. It is when we stop doubting, thinking, questioning, in relationships that they die.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (p. 7). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

I really loved this. It reminded me of another reassuring mothering moment that happened for me at the La Leche League International conference in 2007. Martha Sears was speaking and she said something to the effect of, “does anyone ever wonder if they are ‘attached enough’ to their kids?” She then said that the very fact that you think about those subjects and ask yourself those questions means you are. And, that you are a good mother. She said that only good mothers worry about being good mothers. I found that tremendously reinforcing and have drawn on it repeatedly over the years! I’ve heard other parents say that they feel confident they are making the “right choices” for their families, because if they weren’t right, they wouldn’t do them, but I often lack that sense of complete certainty. I see a lot of possible “right choices” as well as piles of “good enough choices” in the world and it is helpful to remember that turning these things over, asking hard questions about them, and having doubts about your own parenting is actually part of the process of a healthy, alive relationship with your children.

And, speaking of making mistakes and having doubts, I also enjoyed this reminder that children are watching how you handle mistakes and how your repair damage:

Perhaps it will come as no surprise to nonreligious parents that teaching children to resist the status quo is a spiritual gift; but observing what’s wrong about what surrounds us is the first necessary step leading away from the brokenness of a particular culture, setting, or time. Spiritual leadership at home earns a special place in children’s formation, especially in their imagination. Refining our children’s spiritual imagination is essential; it will become their storehouse, a granary, for making choices about the way they will face loss or triumph. Their imaginations will be shaped by the world we present them. Children need to hear not only what we believe in, but also what we long for, what we hope for—not just what we think the world should look like, but what it doesn’t look like, and why. And, yes, we want them to be like ourselves, but more. We want our children to admire us on the deepest level of our own spirituality. Not just our ethics, our morality with others, but also what is our being, our nature, what choices we make, who we are in front of the vastness of everyday life, and what we do when confronted with evil. These questions are alive for children from the very beginning of their lives. We cannot wait until we, as adults, as individuals, have finally answered, to our satisfaction, our own questions and doubts about God, the world, and human nature. We are meant to do it together. We are joined spiritually to our children, it cannot be otherwise. Our children want computer software, Matchbox cars, and iPhones. But what they want most from us is who we are. To them we are Adam and Eve, the first human specimens of their universe. They keep their eyes on us; they know that no other adult will matter quite so much to them while they grow. They want us to be good. And when we are not good, they watch carefully to see how we will handle it. Here is where most of us will have a chance to be heroic—exactly when we stumble.

And, with regard to parents as everyday heroes, Bria touches on something that I’ve tried to communicate in a past poem for mothers:

You may feel uncomfortable and puzzled about this or you may be the most agnostic person you know, and yet, in loving your children, you are practicing the profoundest spirituality. In this you are heroic, and there are days when you know it. You know you’ve been stretched to the limit, faced insanity, wept in the closet, physically found an entirely new level of exhaustion. It’s called sacrifice. No one else, except maybe, maybe, your partner, will ever know what you’ve done. No one else will ever guess how hard it has been. No one will thank you for it. Even when your children have their children, they will only vaguely realize what you’ve done—they will be too frantic caring for their own kids. Yet you do it. Now, that’s heroism.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (p. 80). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

YES! Though, I do actually feel like my children are really good about expressing thanks to me. Little Alaina has a somewhat new habit of saying “thank you” to me for almost everything. She asks me to pick her up and when I do, she throws her arms around my neck, pats my back, and says, “SANK you, mommy!” And, she almost always says, “thanks” for nursing too. She’ll talk to my “na nas,” saying, “thank you, nonnies. Love you, nonnies. Thank you, mommy. Love you, mommy.” No thanklessness there 😀 My boys too will often tell me I’m the “best mom in the world!” or that they would never want a different mom because I’m, “the greatest mom ever!” So, I do, in fact feel appreciated by my kids on a regular basis. However, I identify with the remarks about no one really know how hard its been and that you are heroic in continuing to meet the challenge!

And, as I prepare for a major trip to California later this month, I call to mind two particularly àpropos reminders about having so much to do all the time:

“Face it, now, you will never have enough time to do all the right things, the necessary, even important things you can eternally think up, but you will have enough love.”

“I want my sons, both of them to learn from me that they are free to be rooted in home and still be abroad in the world as men.’’ She also feels being a mother to her sons involves giving them pictures of her as a woman engaging her gifts. She is sharing her interests with him, preparing him to see women as partners, with many interests, giving him a model.

And, finally, a thought about making a home:

HOME IS THE FIRST PLACE we spend our love. It is the site, the space, the enclosure, where we love each other and spin ourselves into a family—mother, daughter, father, son, and over all, lovers. It is the place we disburse our energy, expend our life, and exercise our imagination. It holds all our little memory objects and, with them, the people we love—the ones we are willing to spend our lives on. The ones we most want to show and tell to. It’s never just four walls. Home can be thought of almost as a body to care for; a body that contains the spirit of the family. One can read the character of a family by the home they make. It is not the things they have, but the spirit of life that is manifest in their home, because home is the ultimate joint project families do together. It is imperative that home be made by all family members. It is not a woman’s private project, whereby she creates a space and everyone else just inhabits it. Home is a joint project—that means children must be fully engaged in “keeping’’ house in the same way the adults are. Most chores for children are assigned to build character—not really to attend the body of the home together. By giving children an explanation about why their contribution to the home is important and giving them an opportunity to contribute—a true sense of ownership—a discernible difference in the attitude takes place; it’s a community effort. Young children “play house’’ for real because they understand that you depend on them; and if they feel how vital they are to you, to this project, they respond. After all that is what children inherently want, to belong to someone, in some place, and to give their little selves too.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (pp. 126-127). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

And, one about goblets. Yes, goblets. I feel her!

What is it about goblets that gives me a lump right in the throat? To see a little fist brandishing one about, drink half-sloshing, ought to fill me with terror. Instead I get the deeply satisfying affirmation that, for the moment, we are princes of our palaces, little or big as we are. Goblets ring royalty bells for me, aristocracy, or even only mere martiniesque sophistication, but they symbolize elevation, reminiscent of a chalice. A goblet lifts you up, even as it lifts up the body of liquid you are drinking. The imagery of a child sipping from a goblet is a glimpse of a lost land, some original garden, where animals talk, flowers sing, feasting abounds, and every servant is a noble in disguise. Maybe our little diner parties for children are a silly attempt to taste this vision, but I can’t give it up, even if we do, in the end, lose some goblets, in peril of a gash. When the other mothers come to collect their children, I know they contain their askance glances: I’ve let their children play with glass. I, too, wonder sometimes if I am a demented, too-casual mother. But I am not, I am crazy for the real. I so want to put the real into children’s hands, to promise them while they are still children, still believers, that it is beautiful, exciting, and dangerous to be at a table.

Gina Bria (2011-11-28). The Art of Family : Rituals, Imagination, and Everyday Spirituality (p. 138). iUniverse. Kindle Edition.

Alaina with sparkling cider on New Year’s Eve. She’s got the real in her hands! 🙂

Driveway Revelations (on Family Size)

Apr1

Family size has been on my mind since Alaina was born two years ago. Before we got married we talked about having four or even six kids, but as we got a little older we settled on “probably three.” There was a time, post-miscarriages, in which I wondered if two was “enough” and whether we should be happy with our family of two boys. Then, after Alaina was born, even though we’d said she was the last, I found myself spending many moments during her first year thinking, but maybe one more! I fantasize about having a little sister for her. I look at the tight brother-bond of my sons and I want that for her too—for her to have someone on her own little team, rather than being the little tagalong at the end of the family. I have a nagging question of whether three feels like an “unbalanced” number. Then as we moved past one year, I started to have more moments of feeling “done.” Those moments usually came from frustration—i.e. after a long, whiny day, I’d think, “yes, family size is complete. NO MORE! AHHHHHHH.” I also kept having the thought that it makes sense to end our childbearing years on this high, sweet, clear, beautiful, joyful, triumphant note following her birth—why wait until we are fully “burned out” with parenting, why not retain some sweet, delicate wistfulness about infancy and childhood, instead of maxing our personal resources to our fullest extent? (Though, logically I know it isn’t necessarily an either-or proposition, that is how it often feels to me anyway.)

We decided we’d make the final, ultimate decision after she turned two, because too much longer after that point would make more of an age gap than we’d want. I posted on Facebook asking how do people know they’re “done.” I had an expectation of having some kind of blinding epiphany and a deep knowing that our family is complete, as I’ve had so many other people describe: “I just knew, our family was complete.” I didn’t have that knowing though—I vacillated day to day. What if I never know for sure, I fretted. Perhaps this sense of wistfulness and possibility with continue forever—maybe it is simply normal. One more. No, finished. But…ONE more?! And, I have a space in my heart that knows with great confidence that four (living) children would be the ultimate maximum for us. I definitely do not want more than four…so, does that mean there still is one more “out there” for us? And, back I go. I started out postpartum getting rid of maternity clothes and outgrown baby clothes, except for some special pieces and then at some point, I started putting them in a box in the closet instead. I smell her sweet head and think that she’s so wonderful how could I possibly never do this again. I look back at my pregnancies and births and think, WAIT, was that ALL? Is it over? Are my childbearing years behind me now? But, but…they were SO REAL! There is something about keeping the door open still. Not yet saying for sure. And then…some other moments have come recently. Rather than only having exhausted moments of “doneness,” I’ve had some sweet, beautiful moments of doneness too. Two weeks ago, we were all walking in the driveway. Alaina was in the middle with a brother holding each hand and me holding Lann’s hand and Mark holding Zander’s. I looked across at our line of our a family and suddenly there it was…a moment I’d not yet experienced…the sense that our family is complete. And, I thought, it IS a “balanced” family after all, even number or not. Yes, we’ve got the pair of brothers, but we also have “two girls,” so to speak, and that feels more balanced than I expected.

Then, last weekend, we were reorganizing our computer room and I was taking some things down off the walls as well as talking about having let one of my childbirth educator certifications lapse. I looked across at my birth art wall and I had this profound sense of distance from it, like, “oh yeah, I remember that life. It was a long time ago.” It no longer felt current or possible to me, like a part of my future reality, but felt firmly located in the past, in happy memory, rather than linked to possible future. I felt a sense of having “moved on,” past that stage after all, not waiting for the cycle to begin anew.

After my little brother got married last year, I’ve also started to have feelings of readiness to “pass the baton,” so to speak. It can be someone else’s turn to have the newborn, the baby, the toddler, the little kids. When I put away baby things and cloth diapers now, it is with an eye towards being able to give them to my sister-in-law or my sister, rather than saving them for myself. One of the things that has been challenging about the child spacing of my own family of origin is the age gap between my youngest sister, my brother and me. I am almost 11 years older than my sister and 9 years older than my brother (I do have another sister who is 22 months younger than I am too). This has created a “generation gap” of sorts in our lives and sometimes it feels difficult to reach across. A benefit however, that I’ve noticed for a long time, is that it offers the opportunity for each generation to be the “cool people,” to the current little kids of the extended family. Mark and I were the cool people when my little brother and sister were pre-teens and early teenagers—they would come stay at our apartment and we’d take them to the mall and things like that. Then, as they grew and we had kids, they became the cool, fun people to my own kids. I can look forward into a future slightly and see how my kids will now have the opportunity to be a cool, big people to my (as yet unconceived) future nieces and nephews. They won’t have the close-in-age cousin experience, but they will have the opportunity to take their turn as the fun, exciting role models. And, if my sister or sister-in-law hurries up and has a baby, it won’t be too much younger than Alaina and so at least one of my kids still has a shot at having a close in age cousin (and hey, maybe that baby can be her “sister” and teammate like my boys are for each other?! I’m liking this plan!).

Another benefit I can see to this generation-gap style extended family spacing is that each set of grandbabies can have their turn in the sun. If we were all having babies at the same time, how would my parents equally divide up their doting grandparent powers? How would my mom zoom around the state offering her postpartum nurturing skills to multiple new baby households? How would my dad patiently carry around a pile of curious babies? Would I still get my two hours during the day, or would the grandparents be too overwhelmed by having to have 50 grandchildren come over every day? How would I get to be a good, helpful aunt if I was busy taking care of my own newborn at the same time? Now each baby will have the chance to be the center of all the baby-attention and baby-love my whole family has to offer. We’ll all see and celebrate the first crawlings and first steps and first words of each new extended family member in their own turn, rather than having them lost in a shuffle of multiple babies all at the same time. And, I’ll have a chance to be the aunt who smells a tiny newborn head, and cradles soft hair, and marvels at delicate toes, and gummy smiles instead of thinking, “same old, same old.” ;-D

On Sunday afternoon, we took another stroll down the driveway. Mark and I were holding hands and chatting about various topics and when we turned around to head back the opposite direction, this is what we saw…

And, again, I felt that moment of bright, clear, certain awareness. THIS. This is our family size. These are our babies. We’re done.

(Or, are we?! :-D)

For some gorgeous thoughts on family size, do check out Leonie’s lyrical post On Choosing To Only Have One Kid.

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And, on an unrelated note, I also took two pictures of the greenhouse. One during the delightful spring day…
And another during a delightful sunset…

Oh, and back to the original topic of family planning, don’t get me started on a conversation about birth control or how we truly plan to make that “ultimate” decision. I don’t freaking know what to do about that. All I know is that while I’m still willing to entertain the possibility of a “surprise” baby at this point in our family life, I am simply NOT willing to push the “reset” button at age 45 and accidentally have another baby then instead of menopause.

And, I realized as I set this to post on April Fool’s Day that someone might think I’m posting this as an April Fool’s joke—surprise, I’m not really “done” after all, in fact I’m pregnant again!!!! Not. ;-D