Easter musings

I almost forgot about the easter bunny. Well, I didn't totally forget. I just never found a basket that I liked, and then we went on a trip to Nashville, and then Fiona threw up at midnight in the hotel room, and then I forgot until about 5:30 pm. So Fiona got her new books and gardening tools just placed in the middle of the floor. And then she proceeded to use her claw/rake thingy (not sure what the real name is) to eat applesauce.

 

Well at least she's resourceful. 

I confess that I haven't had the energy the last year and a half to be as focused on living out my spirituality as I would like. Most days, I go non-stop until I fall into bed exhausted. It is just the life of a working mom, or maybe just a mom, or maybe just life.

Unfortunately, this means that we don't always make it to church or community events, and volunteering and serious reading/journaling have gone out the window. I know one day I can get back into these things, but at times like Lent and Easter, it makes me feel as though something is missing.

I love the combination of Lent and Easter. I love the idea that life can come even in the midst of darkness, death, and despair. I love the introspection and sacrifice that lead to a joyful celebration of resurrection. I love the transition from winter to spring. I love the rituals and practices associated with ideas that remind us of our humanity: both the broken and the redeemed.

And I miss it.

But in the spirit of Lent and Easter, maybe this is good. Maybe it is good to become more aware of your own need for connection to God and others. Maybe it is good to realize that you can only do so much and that most of it is out of your control. Maybe learning to take breaks and find Life in the day to day grind is part of what this rebirth process is all about.

So, I am learning. Learning to be still, or more likely, be present in the constant movement of a toddler. Learning to put and end to the day and say I did what I could. Learning to trust that life will keep happening and I just need to pay attention as best I can.

He is risen.

(And now for creepy easter bunny pictures and the like.)

  
Because life is incomplete without Steel Magnolias: 
Annelle: Now, you just burst through those bushes..and hop over to where the kids are, okay? 
Sammy: What bushes? l can't see shit!
Annelle: Over there.
Sammy: ''Over there.''

Egg hunting, art making, music playing, and general exploring.

                                         

An awesome art piece created by Patrick Dougherty (http://www.stickwork.net/)

  

The before and after of the big kids knocking her down in the stick sculpture. (Mama bear almost came out, but thankfully that cute guy behind her came up to see if she was okay and I melted instead.)

Life with a one year old

Will and I are enjoying life with our little/big one-year old. She is getting more interactive everyday and I am amazed at how much she comprehends and can do. She is the perfect mix of sweet, spunky, serious, and silly. She is starting to test her limits and stepping out with almost zero fear. It is fun and terrifying to watch.

Here are some our latest adventures (excluding the 5 trips to the doctor's office this month).

Going to the library

"Working" with mama

Spring cleaning

Enjoying the spring weather

To the birthday girl

Dear Fiona (a.k.a., Fi, Nona, Booger, Boog, Fiony, Filuna, or Honey),

You are one today.

You are quiet and serious, watching the world and the people as they go.

You are loud and silly, sharing your thoughts and giggles with those closest to you.

You are sweet with your slobbery kisses and gentle head butts.

You are all in once you make up your mind.

You are delighted by nature: the feel of leaves, the sound of birds, the taste of snow.

You are determined to figure things out for yourself, just like your mama.

You are an early bird and chipper in the morning, just like your dada.

You are curious and observant. Hang on to those qualities, both will serve you well.

You are a force to be reckoned with, leaving joy and sippy cup lids wherever you go.

I gave this poem to your dad on our first anniversary. I think it is fitting for you on your first birthday.

            Take a lump of clay,

            wet it, pat it,

            make a statue of you

            and a statue of me

            then shatter them, clatter them,

            add some water

            and break them and mold them

            into a statue of you

            and a statue of me.

            Then in mine, there are bits of you

            and in you there are bits of me.

            Nothing ever shall keep us apart.

                              - Kuan Tao-Sheng

You have changed our lives forever. And I will be forever grateful. I can't wait to see what the years bring. 

Love, Mama

10 lessons from the first year of parenting

We did it! We survived one year! I really wasn't sure about this whole parenting thing at first. But once I got a little bit of sleep and we got that first sweet smile, I figured we could keep you around.

As I look back on this first year, I am having a hard time summarizing what I have learned. Maybe we are still too close to the action to allow for deep reflection, or maybe we are still too sleep-deprived. Really, I think it is too much to put into words. I start to reflect on who you are, how much I love you, all of the things I want for you, and how you have changed me, and I just get choked up. These feelings are heavy in my heart and so much a part of me now that I am not sure if I will ever be able to articulate them fully.

So I think all I can manage for a reflection is a buzzfeed-type list of lessons learned, with less emotion and more pictures.

1. Never say never.

Aside from spanking, I have already done most of the parenting techniques that I have said I would never do. We use way more disposable diapers than intended, we let you cry it out to sleep, you eat some processed foods, and you watch the morning news. 

Yay for sleeping babies!

2. I feel a multitude of emotions at all times.
Parenting means simultaneous and overwhelming feelings of love, joy, fear, pride, excitement, exhaustion, anxiety, and contentedness at all times. Which is why I am currently working with my therapist on building healthy emotion regulation behaviors so I don't explode from all of the feelings.

How can you not love that face?

3. Get used to the mess.
I can't do it all. Will can't do it all. There is only so much cleaning you can do in a day and still parent, work, eat, and sleep. There are random cheerios everywhere and the baseboards will never be clean again.

Hurricane Fiona.

4. Husbands/fathers are infuriating.
Daily, I would like to kill my husband. We are different people and parent differently. Generally this means that my way is completely right and his way is completely wrong. It also means she will be fine in the end.

William giving Fiona a frozen chocolate banana despite my protests.

5. Husbands/fathers are amazing. 
Daily, I am indebted to my husband. He steps in when I am at my limit. He helps me to calm down when I have gone down the rabbit hole of "what does this mean for her long-term development". Seriously, I do not know how single parents do it.

Fiona loves her "ga-da".

6. It definitely takes a village.
I have always believed this, but now can attest to it based on personal experience. I don't care what you say, you cannot and should not parent alone. You may think that you are doing it all on your own, but that does a great disservice to the family members, friends, teachers, neighbors, community members, and kind strangers around you. It is also harmful to you and your child. We are not alone in this world, we are not islands, and we should not be. We would not have made it through this year without our village. Thank you.

Just a few members of our village.

7. I will never be the pinterest-perfect mom. 
While I believe that I am fully capable of baking, cooking, sewing, and crafting everything from scratch, and that I would enjoy doing those things, they are not going to happen on a regular basis. I will pay someone else to do those things for me. Think of it as my way to support the local economy.

I could have made this cake. I didn't. It was delicious and time-saving.

8. I love the other moms who will say terrible, honest things about parenting. 
Yes, I love my child. Yes, she brings me great joy. Yes, I know yours do to. But what I really need to hear right now is how you want to cry because you got everything together and were going to be on time for once and then your child puked everywhere. Or pooped, or had a meltdown, or whatever. Stop pretending it is all gum drops and rainbows people. If you agree, welcome to my mommy world. If not, keep walking. We will not be good friends.

My Memphis mom friend who sometimes screams about her children and doesn't care if the house is clean.

9. Put your mask on first.
Fiona and I have been on at least 10 flights together. I can't remember which flight it was, but on one of them, the flight attendant reminded me to put my mask on first if the oxygen masks dropped down. Our pediatrician has also used that metaphor to make sure that I was eating, drinking, and sleeping enough to care for Fiona. Most days I will still tend to her needs at the neglect of my own, but I am learning that self-care is good and necessary. It makes me a better mom and teaches Fiona about being in relationship with others.

Napping with daddy, so I can do something, ANYTHING, by myself.

10. I am who I am and that is more than okay. 
As a good friend put it, I am learning to celebrate my many talents and give less f-words about the rest. I do not have the energy for other people's crap. I do not have the energy to try to make myself into something I am not. And the good news is, I no longer want to try. I am too old for that *$(#. You get what you get, take it or leave it.

Me and my girl, finding our way through the world.

Love and marriage and parenting

When I was in elementary school, my sisters and I used to watch "Married with Children". I am not sure who thought of this line up, but it was on in between episodes of "I Love Lucy", and so we would watch it because we were too lazy to get up and change the channel.

I don't remember any episodes and I am sure that as a 10 year old I did not understand the jokes. I know now that it was simultaneously not the healthiest picture of a family and a semi-realistic picture of family life (i.e., a mixing of various personalities combined with daily responsibilities that are sometimes entertaining and sometimes annoying).

A perfect picture of our relationship. 

Will and I just celebrated our fifth anniversary and are approaching Fiona's first birthday. In some ways our marriage hasn't changed much over the years. We still have Saturday morning breakfast (see recent example of crepes below!): a tradition started in grad school when we were both working so much that we didn't have much time together during the week. We still make the same jokes: Will makes up silly songs and I use the comeback "so's your face" daily. We still go to bed at different times: Will out by 8:30, me watching Gilmore Girls and working late into the night.

Crepes: way easier to make than I thought. Seriously, even easier than pancakes. Go now and make them. 

In other ways though we have changed so much, especially as we navigate parenting.

I have become more introverted.

Will eats fewer carbs and more tofu.

We have more conversations about poop than I thought possible (baby's, not ours).

But what has really changed (at least for me) is my understanding of romance.

I can't remember when Will shared this quotation with me, but it comes from one of his favorite writers, David Foster Wallace. I do remember him sharing that this was his idea of love and romance.

“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.”

When we were first married, I still had the picture of honeymoon-type romance in my head. Big gestures, flowers, candles, talking late into the night, going on adventures. 

But now, I get it. There is nothing sexier than a man showing up everyday for his family... changing diapers that make him gag, doing night duty so I can sleep, cleaning my nasty loose tea leaves out of the sink. 

But William out did himself last week. He planned dinners for the week, printed the recipes, bought the groceries, and surprised me with a new wok. I mean, come on people, what is sexier than saving a woman time and energy and providing your family with healthy meals? Nothing I tell you, nothing (except perhaps when he dresses like Neal Caffrey on White Collar). 

I guess this means I will put up with his early morning puns a little longer. 

Our growling girl

Fiona has started growling.

From Day 1, she had a whole host of noises: soft coos, loud coos, whimpers. Since then she has added m sounds and this funny blowing sound that I think came from trying to imitate me blowing my nose when I had a sinus infection. In the past couple of weeks though, she has exploded with noises. She is hissing (not sure where this came from), making siren noises (to go along with the fire truck puzzle), and making elephant noises (or attempts at it), but my absolute favorite is the growling noise.

It started with me roaring every time she picked up one of her lion toys. Usually she would just giggle about it, but when we turned it into a game that involved us crouching and pouncing and growling like lions in the midst of the furniture, she caught onto the growling and has not stopped.

She growls all the time now. When she is trying something new, when she is pushing her walker toy, when she is crawling around looking for us, when she wants to play.

While this noise, in and of itself, is amazing, what I really love is how it reflects her play. She is active and curious. She is fearless (which is a little scary for me, but also great). She can entertain herself by opening and closing a box a million times, and she finds it hysterical when we "get her" and give her zerberts (or raspberries depending on who you ask). She loves turning the pages in books and will smile and laugh every time I start singing, "Stomp your feet, clap your hands, everybody ready for a barnyard dance."

(Video of noises below for your viewing pleasure. Disclaimer: please forgive my amateur video recording and editing skills.)

-----

I came across this poem the other day that makes me appreciate her growling even more. I know at this point that she is not making conscious choices about the feminine or masculine nature of her play, but I hope that we are. While I don't mind at all if she plays princess or ballerina, I do hope that she can be just as comfortable playing dragon or fire fighter. I hope that she is just as happy digging in the dirt and looking for worms as she is having a tea party with her dolls (culturally diverse ones of course). I hope that we can open up the possibilities to her as she stretches her imagination and figures out who she is meant to be.

FOR MY DAUGHTER

By Sarah McMane

“Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.” – Clementine Paddleford

Never play the princess when you can
be the queen:
rule the kingdom, swing a scepter,
wear a crown of gold.
Don’t dance in glass slippers,
crystal carving up your toes --
be a barefoot Amazon instead,
for those shoes will surely shatter on your feet.

Never wear only pink
when you can strut in crimson red,
sweat in heather grey, and
shimmer in sky blue,
claim the golden sun upon your hair.
Colors are for everyone,
boys and girls, men and women --
be a verdant garden, the landscape of Versailles,
not a pale primrose blindly pushed aside.

Chase green dragons and one-eyed zombies,
fierce and fiery toothy monsters,
not merely lazy butterflies,
sweet and slow on summer days.
For you can tame the most brutish beasts
with your wily wits and charm,
and lizard scales feel just as smooth
as gossamer insect wings.

Tramp muddy through the house in
a purple tutu and cowboy boots.
Have a tea party in your overalls.
Build a fort of birch branches,
a zoo of Legos, a rocketship of
Queen Anne chairs and coverlets,
first stop on the moon.

Dream of dinosaurs and baby dolls,
bold brontosaurus and bookish Belle,
not Barbie on the runway or
Disney damsels in distress --
you are much too strong to play
the simpering waif.

Don a baseball cap, dance with Daddy,
paint your toenails, climb a cottonwood.
Learn to speak with both your mind and heart.
For the ground beneath will hold you, dear --
know that you are free.
And never grow a wishbone, daughter,
where your backbone ought to be.

The pit in my stomach

Although I have been up at 2 am almost every night for the past nine months, I am up tonight for the following reasons:

1) We had another rat situation which translates into Will setting a trap and me donning rubber gloves and carrying out the dead rat and trap out to the garbage.

2) Fiona just spent an hour and 15 minutes crying herself to sleep, and though I am exhausted, I can't go back to sleep because of the nagging feeling that we have done something terribly wrong and awful to our girl.

My mind is reeling.

• Will she be scarred forever from two nights of crying?
• Have we damaged her trust in us?
• Does she feel abandoned or unloved?
• Am I putting my need for sleep above her need for responsive caregiving?
• I am so tired that I am angry at my husband, not present with my child, unable to focus at work, and feel not quite there all the time.
• Did we just intentionally put her in harm's way?
• How do we help her face hardship all the while having that gutwrenching feeling of seeing her upset?
• I have a pit in my stomach, knowing that harm will come to her in many ways in her lifetime and we won't be able to stop it everytime.  
• Why can't I shield her from all pain? 
• Why are so many of life's lessons learned through struggle?

 Ugh...this parenting thing is hard. I hope we don't permanently screw her up.