life and love taken for granted

I just returned from a celebration/mourning for the too-short life of a 3-year old.

This beautiful little boy, lying there in stillness, surrounded by things and people that he loved. A bottle of ketchup that he would eat for dinner if allowed, just like Fiona. Bubbles that always seem like magic and would bring a smile to his face, just like Fiona. Paint that he would smear on his hands and his feet, just like Fiona.

I didn't ever have a lot of long interactions with this little boy.... mostly just saying hi at pick up and drop off. I confess that I did not know him well. But his smile would always make me smile. He had this mischief behind his grin, the kind that always reels me in as I am a sucker for trouble makers. No matter the stress of the day, it was always a blessing to see his face and wave hello or watch him play. And it was a blessing for Fiona to have him in her life... to be able to play with and learn from this boy so full of life (after all, he was the one who taught her to climb on the table and encouraged her to try on everyone else's shoes).

His parents spoke of two things that struck me... fear and love. They spoke of how fear can stop you from living life, from interacting with people who are different than you, from getting so caught up in yourself or so uncertain of the unknown that you forget about this beautiful world around you full of amazing people and experiences. They spoke of how love can help you from getting stuck in this fear,  and help you see beyond yourself... how love reminds you that we were made to be in connection with one another and that these connections change and shape us.

I confess that I have been stuck in a world of fear lately, letting personal and professional struggles and the troubles of the world overshadow the beauty around me. Trying to get pregnant again, trying to figure out how to create a meaningful career, trying to figure out how to make a two year-old go to sleep, one of my grad school mentors passing, seeing images of floods, fires, famine, and fighting, the reality of a possible Trump administration. It can be so overwhelming.

In the midst of the grief today, I was reminded that both fear and love are powerful, but that I want to choose love more often than fear. I want Fiona to know that love wins, even when the skies are dark and all-consuming. I want that little boy and his family to know that I heard them and that his presence in my life and my daughter's life was a privilege.

Rest in peace beautiful boy.

The Laughing Heart 

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

-- Charles Bukowski

 

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

I am terrified. 

My daughter loves pink, purple, and baby dolls. She loves wearing dresses and is obsessed with shoes and bags. She even likes wearing...bows. Bows, people. Then at Target the other day, she picked out a bright pink Minnie Mouse hat. There is so much pink it my house that it scares the daylights out of me.

I was never very feminine as a kid. I hated dresses and pink. I prided myself on being a tomboy and able to do all the stuff the boys did. I have since become a little more feminine, but still would never describe myself in that way. 

I was fully prepared to dress my daughter in "boy" clothes and defended her right and ability to engage in activities considered for boys. I always said that my daughter would not wear bows or frilly outfits or be afraid to get dirty. I said I didn't mind if she played princess while in my mind, I thought, "She'll never want to do that".

But I never thought she would choose a more feminine route for herself. And I feel a little anxious about it.

I know that feminism is more her right to choose for herself than the colors and clothes she chooses to wear, but I fear her getting stuck too early in one image of a woman.

I know that she loves to build with blocks and play in the dirt just as much as she likes to diaper her baby and put her night-night, but I don't want her to think that motherhood is the only option for her future.

(Side note: Can I tell you how much I hate that people tell her "You're such a good mommy" when she is being nurturing to her baby. Don't push her into motherhood if that is not her choice or teach her that only mothers are nurturing.)

I know that it is the conversations that we have about equality and equity that will guide her understanding, but I wonder what messages she is getting right now through interactions around clothes and toys.

What is a feminist mom to do? I suppose that part of the answer is accepting who she is, regardless of her personal style. I suppose it is knowing that it is broadening my understanding of what a woman can be and allowing her to define that for herself. I supposed I need to immerse myself in pink bows, stop making such a big deal about it, and get over it. 
So as a beginning of getting over it... here are some super girly pictures of my sweet and spunky girl.

Her purple pony undies and shiny pink shoes

A girl and her baby 

Bows and breakfast

Minnie Mouse hat to match her Minnie Mouse car

Beach baby

Ever since we got engaged, I have been going on the Duffy annual trip to Hilton Head Island. I love the lush green plants, gigantic sprawling oaks, tall pines, Spanish moss and marshy landscape that remind me of South Louisiana. And I love that wherever you are in the island, you can just hop on your beach cruiser bike and be at the beach in minutes. I don't know how we will afford it, but I am determined to retire there and run an old lady yoga / dance studio.

These days, like everything else, the beach is a little different. This year, we got to experience the beach through the eyes of a one-year old. A one year old who takes a few, silent minutes to observe the world around her and then takes off, ready to explore. While she enjoyed digging in the sand and wading in the water, it was her ultimate mission to put all of the sand on the beach back in the water, two tiny handfuls at a time.

I will confess that I have been worried lately about the quality of our language modeling for Fi. Have I varied my words? Is she hearing enough words? Are we extending on her communication attempts enough? Why didn't I map that particular action to words?

I found myself having these same thoughts while she was working away. How many ways can I describe the sand? What new vocabulary words can I introduce? But at some point, I stopped talking and just watched. And though I had a few terrifying visions of the tide sweeping her away, it was heaven to watch Fi at her work.

It got me thinking...why is it that mindfulness and being in the present moment is so hard? Little ones are so good at being in the moment and true to themselves. When do we stop that? When do we start caring so much about our productivity that we forget how good it feels to experience  the actual work? When do we start caring more about how we look in our swim suits than how it feels to stand next to the ocean?

Oh goodness...so much to learn and unlearn.

Here are some of my favorite beach pictures of our little Buddha baby.

Seeing the ocean for the first time

Someone did not love the bike trailer

Building with daddy

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.