A tiny awakening of hope

Man, I feel like I’m going through a lot of transformation but not straightforward, not visible or obvious.

I’ve shifted after this miscarriage. In January, I was going through hard things, but I was optimistic. I was tender-hearted towards God - making an effort to be hopeful, surrendered to him, trust him. I did my morning devotionals every day, prayed every day. My relationship with God was my lifeline through a tough time. 

Imagine my surprise when, after having this miscarriage, I felt distant from God. Not wanting to talk to him, to read the Bible, to listen to Christian music. It felt like touching a wound. I wanted to avoid it.

A wound? A wound? So I’ve felt wounded by God. It’s not logical, it’s not where I want to be, but it’s how I’ve felt.

The first miscarriage I had was like a gateway into deeper trust of God. Still hard, but I felt this deep grace and peace. So I thought this second time would be a cakewalk. I’d already been through it, right? 

But no. I didn’t feel grace and peace. I felt… distance. I felt like I’d been betrayed. I just wanted to be alone. 

Here I am, five weeks after the physical miscarriage. Nine weeks after I found out there was no heartbeat. And I’ve been surviving just fine. I’m not crying every day. I’m not sitting around struggling with this or overthinking. But I’m still distant. That optimistic, hopeful, striving for the light part of me just seems to have disappeared.

In its place is a more pragmatic person - not necessarily pessimistic or cynical or hateful or angry (well, I’m occasionally angry) or bitter (well, I’m occasionally bitter). I’m just pragmatic - like “okay, this is life. Life is hard. I’m a survivor, I’m going to make it and do the best I can with what I’ve got.” It’s not the worst place to be, but it’s not where I want to be - a place of hope, saying “Life is beautiful, life is a gift. I’m so grateful to be here. I want to go deep in God’s will. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.” 

The last month I’ve been deep diving into changes I want to make in my life, and I really DO want those changes so bad. They aren’t necessarily heart changes, more like lifestyle changes. But I’m realizing these lifestyle changes actually require heart changes - a lot. And it’s hard for me to come at these changes out of a place of dark energy. I need the right mindset to do it. But I don’t have it. It’s just not there. 

I don’t want to BE the person I am right now. And I think, "I have the choice. I can change. I can change what I think about, focus on my beliefs and the positive.” And I think maybe this is my fault and I need to push through this wall. 

But, but, I wonder.

I wonder if where I’m at is where I should be. I wonder if this is part of grief - the after shocks, the slow healing of the wound. And I wonder if it’s my western culture that makes me think I should just bounce back, be healed NOW, go back to normal life like nothing happened. "I’ve got things to do and places to be, I can’t afford to slow down.”

Why am I trying to heal on a timeline? Why can’t I just accept this tired, heavy place I’m in and just rest and allow healing to unfold when its time? Part of it is being scared I will be stuck here - that this darkness will be a permanent shift I won’t come back from. 

Maybe, maybe, just seeing all this, just writing these words is part of that unfolding of healing. 

This morning I turned on Christian radio (something I haven’t been able to listen to in awhile) and there was the song with the words “I have resurrection power living inside me, Jesus you have given me freedom”. And something in me flickered in response. I have resurrection power living inside me. 

This story isn’t over yet.

A tiny awakening of hope. I’ll take it.

Day 2 - The Saddest Roses

*via Naked Heart Poetry

I wanted to start out optimistic and happy and positive, but I have to do this first, I have to get this off my chest. This is a journey I'm on and it won't make sense without sharing where I've just been.

Aren't these the saddest roses you've ever seen?

I've kept them around, petals wilting, dried out and brown at the edges, because they make me feel sad, and I want to be sad, I want to remember. I want something physical, a symbol of what I've been through, a physical manifestation of my love, my sadness.

I can't believe I'm writing about this publicly, but it's a form of catharsis. A way of saying to myself "this was real, it happened".  A memorial of sorts.

I had a miscarriage recently. I had another one a year and a half ago too, which I've never written about. But this one has hit me harder, in ways I don't understand and didn't expect.

I'll keep details to myself, but share a little, because I need to get it out, to write it down, to bare my soul, to carve this memorial stone.

When I found out (shockingly) I was pregnant, it took awhile to let myself be happy, to hope, and when I did, it was a beautiful thing, a rose colored bubble of joy, so delicate. It popped a month later at finding no heartbeat at our first doctor's visit. No reason why, no answers, just ache.

Even though I'd tried to prepare myself for the possibility of this, my emotions felt like an explosion of pain - negativity coming out of me in every direction, spewing all over everyone around me, the world around me, like dark sticky bile. I didn't want to talk to anyone for awhile, out of fear I would sound like a madwoman.

The intensity passed. And then it was the waiting. I waited another month to have a natural miscarriage. I waited through spring break and family visits and my son's birthday. And then it was over.

There was one last painful gasp of grief, followed by quiet exhaustion and withdrawal. And eventually, little spurts of energy and laughter returning.

Life goes on and I go on. At such a fast pace it goes on, and I run to keep up with it. All the while wishing I could shut myself away for a week, draw the curtains and lay in bed. But it is sunny spring and there is work to do, and an energetic boy to chase after, and so here I am, picking up the pieces and going on.

At times life seems so normal again. But then I see the roses and remember that baby I loved and wanted, who flew away.  It hurts to remember, but I don't want to forget.

I can't speak for everyone's miscarriage experiences. I know each is unique. But I know they are common and I know they hurt.

We are a sisterhood, those of us, who've walked this path. "Me too," we say. And "I know." It's a mystery, a deep and painful, one of life and death, we've been initiated into.

And it can feel so lonely. Even though I think it's not something to be ashamed of, it can be hard to talk about. So I'm talking about it, for all of you, like me, to know, you are not alone.

Coming out of the other side of this, I don't feel like the same person I was before, and I'm not sure what that means, and what the future holds. Everything seems cloudy. But I'm venturing on, hoping the clouds will part and I'll see my path clearly again. And I'm here, writing about it and blogging, because I'm alive and I'm ready to step into something new, even if I'm not sure what that is.

It's time to say goodbye to these sad roses. But I won't forget.

Favorites lately

It's spring! And I'm ready for new things!

Back in the Day Bakery: Made with Love. This lovely cookbook just arrived on my doorstep yesterday and I can’t wait to cook from it. Their first cookbook is one of my absolute forever favorites that I always turn to when I want something to be delicious.

As I was searching for a picture of the book cover, I actually stumbled across the designer of the book  cover's web site. Her name is Emily Isabella (what a lovely name, btw) and her work is lovely too.

I've been thinking about book covers lately (shocker!) and thinking how little we know about the actual people who design the art for books. So many books are so enjoyable due to their ingenuity, and yet we know so little about them.

I've stumbled across two other visual artists this week that I love too:

Abstract art by Mark Lovejoy. It’s spring, and I love the riot of color! I just can't resist abstract art.

And I am now obsessed with Emma Block.  I stumbled across her work on Pinterest. So quirky and  evocative. All the things she puts in her work are things I love: bicycles, cafes, baths, Paris, flowers, books, pastries, and feminine romantic sensibilities.

*image via The Glow

On a deeper note, this is the thing I've read online this week that impacted me the most:
Negativity online: An essay inspired by over 200,000 comments on Design Sponge

This is just such a fascinating topic to me - so many layers here. I’ve struggled with feeling envy, inferiority, confusing what I really value in my own life - from what I see online.

I love beauty, beauty, beauty - in art, in homes, in food, in fashion, in parties, in words - and I love to see it online.

But I also love contentment. I love being happy, right where I am, right now! Being bombarded with visual perfection and high aspiring beauty on a daily basis gives me a bad case of “I-want-itis” and the dreaded blue “lesser-thans”.

I have my OWN triggers online - things that will send me into a spiral of intertwined rage and envy.  If I have to see just ONE more blog or web site talking about “cool moms” or “hip moms” - who seem to be women who are young, beautiful, effortlessly slim, wealthy, NY or LA stylish, designers, or owners of boutiques, etc. who are always doing something in the photo like jumping on a bed in their OH SO killer hiply decorated kids room, having a pillow fight with their adorable and super stylishly dressed child, while being dressed themselves in vintage Pucci, with their perfectly blown out beach waves bouncing in the air - well, I will just scream. (I’m looking at you, The Glow.)

I mean don’t we moms have enough to deal with, without saying “these moms are cool” leaving the implication that if you don’t meet up to their level, well, you’re not. Okay, okay. I’m 40 and I’m still worried about being cool. Pretty lame, huh? I am laughing (blackly) at myself.

Based on this rant, you might notice I might know a little something about the emotions that inspire people to leave negative comments on web sites. But I don’t. Not my thing. But it affects me in my own way. Emotional crap bombs I step into the moment I open up Bloglovin or Pinterest.

It’s getting me thinking, how do I get a little more space from all this, how do I guard my mind from the crap bomb? How do I build contentment, instead of dreaded discontent? (Maybe stop looking at The Glow, I don’t know!)

So much I could say on this, but I just love how thoughtful this article is.

p.s. Looking at The Glow, I want to judge, I want to envy, I feel my bile spilling over.  I think the photographs here are a little like boudoir portraits for motherhood - not really really real, more of a highly crafted and edited view. But with a little distance I could also say it's a portrait of one moment in time, of the beauty of motherhood, of that little golden fading moment that will not last forever, of a mother's love.

Looking back, looking forward

I haven't written about this in awhile. Motherhood. And my little guy. He's about to turn three. Oh. My. Goodness. We've turned the corner, the baby period is solidly over, the little boy period is fully underway.

Gone are the worries of early days - breastfeeding, slings, swings, blow outs, sleep problems. All of that seems so far away. My heart still aches at the preciousness of those cuddly baby days, but I'm glad to be moving forward. In the past year we've had overnight dates, we were able to travel and take real vacations. He's in Mother's Day Out now and these little breaks mean the world for me.

But it's still hard in totally new ways. He doesn't cry all the time - but he whines, oh, how he whines.  He's very melodramatic - about everything. When he wants something, he WANTS it, and stays on it until he gets it or just wears out. Sometimes he gets worked up, sassy, defiant, aggressive. Sometimes he brims over with little boy energy. The toddler emotions can be intense. I do my best to stay calm in the midst of the storm, but at the end of the day I often feel spent.

There are beautiful parts of this phase too. It's so fun to watch him grow - to watch his vocabulary expand, to listen to him talk about his world with growing sophistication. He's becoming more independent in his play and can spend long stretches of time just playing with his cars and trucks. Speaking of which, he is OBSESSED with Cars, Lightnin McQueen, Mater, etc. It's kind of adorable.

He has grown so big and tall - he's still big for his age. But he has those cute round cheeks, and he loves to snuggle, especially in the morning and at night, and he still demands to be picked up, and he says "I wuv you, mommy," and melts my heart. I look at him sleeping and hold my breath, seeing the relaxed expression on his face, his pale, almost translucent skin, the long light brown fringe of eyelashes. I can't resist taking pictures of him when I find him asleep. He's so beautiful. I love him so much sometimes that it hurts.

I don't know what the future holds, what the next few years will be like as the mother of a preschooler and then a first grader. I do know, that each new phase has new joys and new challenges. I do know, that whatever it is, it won't last forever. It will change, again.

So what have I learned in three years of motherhood? A LOT. Here's a random list:

• Everything will change, so don't get too attached to anything. Don't ever think I have it totally figured out now. Don't think I ever will figure it out, or reach some stable point where it's not challenging anymore.
• It is so important to ask for help, to ask for what I need and what I want. Yeah, I'm still working on this one. I don't know why, but it's hard for me.
• I gotta take care of myself the best I can and not feel guilty about it. I've had to figure out what makes me feel good, what works for me, what my minimum requirements are. What is it that keeps me ticking, what is it that is worth investing in, that will pay me back with energy and endurance? In my case it is sleep, exercise, reading, journaling, date nights and time with friends.
• The days of long stretches of time to myself are OVER, but I can still fit in little things that I love like audiobooks, a quick visit to a coffee shop or to the library. 
• It's worth the effort to pull myself together and spend the time styling my hair, putting on makeup, and dress up more.  For the first two years I got pretty frumpy. I've figured out that it's worth it to spend a little time on appearances. It's not a waste of time. I feel the difference. 
• Motherhood of small children is a season. It will not last forever. But while I'm in it, I have to accept it for what it is, with all of the limitations. This is not a season of aggressive goals. This is not a season of being superwoman. This is a season of long hours, long hauls, and what's needed is patience, flexibility, and most often letting go of unreasonable goals and expectations. 
• Don't compare myself to other moms. I've had to come to grips with who I am as a person - that my capacity, my gifts, my skills, my needs are not the same as someone else's. I have spent so long feeling inferior because some other mom can have five kids and homeschool them and keep a blog and make homemade bread and handmade gifts for Christmas and who knows what else. I've realized I am not that mom. Not even close. I am in awe of those moms. But I am not one of them. I'm just not built that way. That's not my gift. 
• Watch my sleep. I've come to realize that sleep has a huge effect on me. For me sleep deprivation can show up as almost depression, a heaviness, an inability to cope. I will wonder why I'm feeling that way until I remember "Oh yeah, Will was up twice last night and I'm missing a few hours of sleep".  I've struggled with "tired and wired" syndrome - where I need sleep, but can't relax. The more sleep deprived I am, the more pressure I feel, and thus the more anxious and frustrated that I can't just flip the switch and make it happen. I've had to learn how to wind myself down, just like a baby, with dim lights and a bedtime story! I can't always control how much sleep I get, but to just be aware helps. It also helps to regulate my caffeine.  I'm super caffeine sensitive and while I love the jolt of energy it can make me edgy and bring on insomnia.
• Loosen up the reigns. Don't try to control everything. In the early days of motherhood I wanted to figure everything out. I wanted everything to be controlled and systematic and predictable. I was always googling something on sleep, feeding, development, etc. Since I've figured out that figuring everything out and controlling everything is impossible I've relaxed into flowing with life with a small child instead of trying to systematize it.
• Make some "mom friends" - for me a first time moms playgroup, and now MOPS have been lifesavers - just to know I'm not alone, just to know that so much of what I experience is straight up normal. But I try to have some deeper friendships too, too connect on things that aren't just about sleep schedules and ear infections and potty training, to talk about hobbies and books I love and heart stuff too. 
• Get out of the house. On a regular basis. Find parks, pools, kid friendly restaurants, libraries, story times, whatever. Just get out. 
• Be grateful for the little things. On a daily basis. Whatever I can be grateful for - my child, my house, my supportive husband, my favorite tv show (haha), chocolate. Yeah. Hang on to the good stuff instead of focusing on all the little annoyances. It's easy to get focused on all the things going wrong (the pancake mix on the floor, the play dough in my coffee beans, the whining, the infinite to do list) and just think life is horrible. It isn't. Remembering how much good there is brings me back to center.
• Let go of the dream. Whatever kind of mom I thought I would be, whatever perfectionistic standards I've had for myself (the "development" activities I would do, the DIYs, the holidays, the nutritionally perfect diet for my child, etc) - I've had to let all that crap go. Just let it go. 
• Live the dream. Love my kiddo. And be grateful. This is it. This is the golden moment. Right here. Right now. This is the golden moment I will someday look back on with joy and sorrow that it's gone. I don't want to miss it.

Will at 23 months

• He's discovered how to pick his nose. Sometimes he picks it with two fingers at once. Sometimes he tries to pick my nose. When I catch him picking his nose, his facial expression indicates that he is very impressed with himself. 
• He giggles when he puts his finger in his belly button (or mine). He thinks it's hilarious.
• He answers "no" to every question, even when I am not sure he really MEANS no. It's just what he says. Until he learns to say "yes". Hopefully soon.
• He's still light on words. His latest words are eye, uh-oh, blue, bath and bye-bye.
• He likes to shake his head and nod his head over and over, with emphasis. I am not convinced he's trying to communicate anything, he just enjoys doing it, especially when we do it back to him.
• He still loves the vacuum. He likes to play with the actual vacuum or pretend he's vacuuming with an object.

• He loves to give high fives. This is something I taught him in an attempt at social skills, since I decided it was weird when he was going up to strange kids trying to hug them.
• He likes to hug his stuffed animals. And give them milk from his cup. It is soooo cute.
• He still hasn't had his first hair cut yet, but he needs one now!

• He likes to spend a lot of time outside. So it's been rough on winter days or sick days when that was impossible.
• He likes to go exploring down the streets in our neighborhood (while I follow) often pushing a little wheelbarrow or red wagon, or even a plastic chair! Cute. Except when we need to go back home and he doesn't want to go and I have to carry him the rest of the way, sometimes kicking and screaming. (He does do tantrums these days, oh yes.)
• He likes to swing in the back yard. And swing. And swing. And swing some more. And then do a tantrum when mommy decides we can't possibly swing anymore.

• He now has much more of a "taste" for kid's tv. I try not to let him watch it too long or too often. I don't want him to be too hooked on it at an early age, but there are days when an episode of Thomas the Train comes in mighty handy for mama, I hate to say.
• He's pretty independent sometimes, but those random moments when he gives me a sweet hug or comes running to me with a huge smile just make my day.

I can't believe he's almost two! I understand the nostalgia of mamas now as I see little babies in carriers or just learning to walk. All of that now seems so far distant as he tears through the playground like a big boy.

A little less conversation, a little more action

I have a balance problem. You might be expecting me to say something like "work-life balance" yadayada. But since becoming a stay at home mom I've figured out there is no work-life balance. I'm just ON all the time. 

No. My problem is balancing input and output. I have this thing. I always want more. 

More information. More books. More blogs. More podcasts. More pretty pins. 

I have an until now unspoken fallacy of a belief that somewhere out there is some "thing" - that magical thing I need that will change my life. The parenting book that will make tantrums manageable. The organization method that will keep my house clean for only ten minutes a day. The blog post that will inspire me. The style that is just so me. The perfect - easy - diet that will change my body forever. The book that will keep me up reading it all night and dying to read the sequel.

I'm always looking. I am hooked. I am addicted. 

It's an internet thing, yeah, primarily. Blogs have been my crack for a long time. Don't take away my feed reader, people! 

But it also applies in other areas like books. For me a satisfying trip to the library is leaving with a stuffed tote bag. Okay, so maybe I will only read 20% of the books, but it's the promise, the potential, that appeals to me, the hope that maybe one of them will be a gem, the thing I can't explain, the thing I've been looking for, the book with a treasure inside.

I not only hoard books, but ideas of books. I have a wish list on Amazon, free samples on my Kindle, a want-to-read list on Goodreads, and a for-later list on my library web site. I'm always looking for more books I might be interested in reading. It will take me a hundred years just to read through my current wish list, not to mention the fact that I keep adding to it..

And then there's my recipe problem. If I get a magazine I just have to tear out any recipe that is vaguely appealing. I have folders full of maybe someday recipes. And then there are the bookmarks, the pins, the cookbooks. I'll never cook them all. And lately, I mostly cook old standbys anyway!

This might sound like just a quirk. But there are problems with it. 

I'm so busy looking for new ideas and taking them in, that I don't deeply absorb and apply things to my life. Let's face it, I know 90% of what I need to know to eat healthy and exercise by now. I could quit reading about it and do it, but instead I spend thirty minutes on the internet reading about it, instead of doing it. Not helpful, really.

Another problem is it perpetuates this magical thinking, that there is a "magic" answer out there to every problem that can easily solve it, if only I knew it. Not only do I spend so much time looking, looking, looking but I also carry around this idea that all problems are meant to be solved. When in truth some problems are just walked through blind until I reach the other side. 

It's been worse since I've become a mother because I go looking for escape or for solutions to all the challenges - cradle cap, climbing out of cribs, bored toddlers, tantrums, teething, etc. 

But I also became addicted to mindlessly searching the internet everyday. When I was breastfeeding for HOURS a day, it's what I did, and I carried it with me, the habit, into my daily life, that need to just wander and search for something. It seemed like it made me less lonely, seeing what other moms were going through. But at the end it only made me more lonely, a halfway connection and not a full one.

And then all of this has me consuming things others have created and not creating my own. Not crafting, cooking, blogging, writing - all things I find fulfilling. 

So I'd like to break this hold it has on me. Maybe not completely. I'm not sure I'm ready for cold turkey from the internets. But I'd like to spend more time applying the knowledge I have, more time creating, more time living, and less time reading about how to live and peering into someone else's windows. 

I haven't decided on a course of action yet, but something MUST be done.

January and everything

Almost February? Already? Wow. Here's all the stuff about January. And everything.

*via Catina Jane Gray on Etsy

I have January-itis right now. That condition where you made grand plans for the new year and then at the end of January realize that you and your oversized ambitions were insane and feel a bit depressed, you know?

 I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I have the tendency to DREAM BIG and I keep forgetting that mothers of toddlers need to dream small and be ready to drop those dreams at a moment's notice and get down in the floor and have a tickle session. I'm still struggling with how to let things go and be okay with this season of life, this season of making messes and cleaning messes over and over in a circle. 

This week Will got a cold and started climbing out of his crib for the first time. I thought my head was going to explode. Change is hard for me. I resemble a toddler more than I want to admit. We've got two toddlers living in this house and one of them is me. Uh-oh. 

Speaking of Uh-Oh, that's my little guy's word lately. He's saying it and saying it. Which is good, because he doesn't say much we understand.

Bookish stuff (follow me on Goodreads if you want more)

Palace of Spies by Sarah Zettel - I really loved this book. I didn't expect to love it. It's YA. It's about British royal stuff a long dusty time ago. And the cover is really pink. But I ended up loving it beyond rational explanation.

Currently reading The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon. It had high marks on my library web site and got my attention. It's intriguing and different and kooky and weird - big on alternative world-building. It hasn't captured my heart yet, the characters - I just haven't fallen in love with them.

Reading The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg. Whoah. This is an eye-opening book. It's a little slow for my book-crack-craving-brain these days. I find myself wanting the Cliff Notes. But there are valuable nuggets in here. The summary (so far, because I'm not done reading it yet): 

• Most of your life is an accumulation of your habits - stuff you do every day without thinking about it.
• You don't think about your habits, you just do 'em. That is both scary and freeing. 
• Because if you can change your habits to positive ones, then you start going in positive directions, on auto-pilot, no struggling to "do your new year's resolutions". Sounds goooood, right?
• And you CAN change your habits. Whoopee!
• Now I just have to keep reading to hear how to do that…
• Oh, and other interesting things you'll discover in the book - smart advertising people know how your habits work, and they're using it against you to get you to buy their stuff, over and over and over. Now when my new lipstick has a minty smell, I know why. If you want to know why, read The Power of Habit.

Reading The Heavy by Dara Lynn-Weiss. Oh ho ho, my friends, this book deserves a post all it's own. Let's just say: 

• I didn't go looking for this book. I stumbled across it at the library and it interested me.
• It's about a mom who has an obese 7 year old and ends up putting her on a restricted calorie diet to get her to lose weight and move into the healthy range. 
• You get into interesting territory here, not only on body image, diet, etc, but also parenting.
• I have a child who is in the high 90s percentage wise on the weight charts. This is something I've tried not to worry about, but honestly, I am kind of worried about as he hasn't grown out of it. 
• I have had body, weight, food issues since my teens. I have no idea what I weigh. I refused to know my own weight the ENTIRE time I was pregnant. I have no clue how much weight I gained or lost since then. I hate thinking about and talking about diets, calories, weight, etc. A number on the scale can send me into a tailspin. 
• And yet if I don't pay it some mind, my muffin tops threaten to take over the civilized world - or at least my jeans.
• So this an interesting book. Full of controversy. And for me, because of the above facts, full of things to think about personally. Maybe I'll share more in a later post?

Girly stuff

Bling. I bought myself a Hippie Bling bracelet by Kim and Kozi and I love it. Silly things, but I love silly things. 

Speaking of silly things, I really want some of this Mermaid perfume. How can one not, after this review on Making Magique? 

Pedicures (the kind where someone else does them, and massages your legs and feet) are from heaven, don't you think? I got one this week with toes painted a shade of nude. I like nude polish lately. It feels beachy and bohemian, while also sophisticated and lady like and minimalist. Quite a change from my stoplight yellow and indigo blue polish days.

Ballet. I've been doing these Ballet Beautiful workouts featuring Mary Helen Bowers via Amazon Prime. They are so minimalist and white and sophisticated. I feel so ladylike.  I get to fantasize about being a ballerina, when I'm the farthest thing from it. But oh, these workouts BURN. 

(Also, am I the only one confused by the conflicting fitness advice? To "transform" the body, one group of people advise working the accessory muscles aka tiny underworked muscles in the body for long lean muscles without bulk. The other group advises doing heavy intense weight bearing exercise with the largest muscles of the body - gluteus maximus, yeah. Which one is best? Which one really works? I kind of think they may both be on to something, which is why I do kettlebells too.)

Try and stop me. 

Sunday nights you can't peel me away from Downton Abbey and Monday nights you can't peel me away from The Bachelor. Well, I say that, but it's just been kind of "meh" so far. I'm waiting for the really crazy ladies to show their stuff. That IS why I watch The Bachelor, btw, for the crazy ladies. It's always useful to compare yourself to someone crazier than you, to be able to say "well… I'm not THAT crazy…" 

Speaking of The Bachelor, if you're into it (ugh, like me) then you might like these Bachelor recap blog posts on Oh Jones. 

I'm also addicted to Hart of Dixie and Reign on the CW.  The CW could make a show about a talking monkey who goes to High School and I'd watch it. It's embarrassing. What is their demographic, like 12-25 year olds? Guess I'm young at heart. Anyway. Reign. Historically accurate? No. Plot? Ridiculous. Costumes? So much fun. And I like the cast. I mean really, Anne Shirley as the Evil Queen of France? And she's soooooo good too.

Bloggish stuff

• Loophole spotting - the tomorrow loophole. Oh, this is so me. 
• Such a pretty house. Colors. So femme. 
• Unidentified Yearning on Brocante Home. 
• Stateless mindset

p.s. Do I ever have to write on this blog again? I think I just wrote enough for a year.

Pork chops and puddles

New Year's Day. A lovely day with my husband and son. Lunch out. Time at a busy park, watching my blond boy run around and nearly conk his head more times than I care to count. A walk in the stroller. Fun in the swing. A half-eaten dinner.

Nightime, I'm soaking in a bath of lavender and epsom salts, indulging in a cosy Regency mystery, but I can't see the pages because I'm bawling my eyes out. Because today's the day we finally weaned. 

I didn't plan it. I knew it was coming soon, but hadn't decided when. I was waiting for it to feel ready.

This morning when we would normally nurse I went in to get him from his crib, brought him a cup of milk and carried him around the house, postponing nursing a few minutes. I've been doing this for awhile, to loosen the habit of nursing right after waking up. 

I opened the refrigerator door and he wiggled out of my arms, wanting to get inside the refrigerator and explore. I hate this, but often let him do it anyway. He found a packet of leftover pork chops wrapped in foil and pulled them out. I figured once he opened the packet he'd lose interest, but instead he started eating the cold pork chop. (Yep, that's my boy.) He wandered around happy as a clam, eating his pork chop and showed zero interest in nursing. 

And I figured.... why not? Why not today? He's okay without nursing. He's happy. He's not asking for it. So why not today?

So, that's it. We didn't nurse. That simple.

But I didn't plan for this. I didn't know that yesterday morning would be the last time ever. I didn't burn it in my mind, the memory. And as I'm laying in the bath, that's why I'm crying. Because of all the memories, because of the things I'm afraid I'll forget, the things I've already forgotten, the everyday little things, the kind of things you don't take pictures or video of, the kind of things that fade.

The way I kissed his forehead while he nursed, the way he pulled away. The way I'd touch his baby soft hair. The way he sometimes smiled at me when he let out a little toot. The way his hands gently patted my chest. Or sometimes not so gently. The way he yanked at my bra strap or touched my face or pulled my hair. The way he wiggled and kicked his legs as if he had somewhere important to go. The way he would tug and demand nursing, or the way he'd make this charming little squinty eyed face, as if he could charm it out of me. 

In the early days I felt like a milk machine, as if I had no life of my own other than to feed him. Those weren't easy times. He seemed never to be satisfied. It seemed to take so much effort - I was concerned about schedules and latching and infections and drinking enough water and was he getting enough milk. It was all so stressful. But then after awhile it was so natural. And I hardly thought about it at all. No different than breathing. As if he was a part of me, and I a part of him.  

So many hours spent of my life.  So many ordinary memories. So much tenderness that will pass and morph and change with time. It was all going to happen anyway. Whether today or tomorrow or next week or next year. I decided. I knew we could both handle it. I knew it was time.

But it's hitting me harder - the emotion of it all - than I expected. I feel like that fall-apart-girl that I so often felt like while I was pregnant - crying at the drop of a hat, everything larger than life. I'll make it through of course, but pardon me while I turn into a puddle.

Oh, my heart

We are saying goodbye to milkies soon. For those of you who don't speak baby-talk, I'd say we're weaning, taking the final steps, finishing off the final feedings, phasing out, closing up the milkshake shop. And it makes me... sad. I know it's time, but I'll miss the simple connection of nursing, being able to soothe him instantly without words.

I can't bear to do it before Christmas, even though I easily could. I am waiting until the new year, as if it makes a difference. It feels like a cleaner break, but also it feels distant, like I'm not rushing it, not doing it too soon.

I wasn't planning to nurse so long. But then I'd never done any of this mothering stuff before, I didn't know what it would be like. I'm not militant about nursing or extended nursing, it's just turned out this way. I was lucky it came easy for us, and I know how lucky and blessed we are. Everyone doesn't get that. But with that ease and simplicity, I haven't been sure how to gracefully bring it to a close. I thought it would taper off naturally. I never wanted to force it before he was ready.

But it's time. I know it's time for me.

It feels like the last knell of babyhood. Even though Will is now huge and so terribly boyish, he still has such round little cheeks and a button nose and a rosy mouth and fluffy hair - he still looks like a baby to me. But I held babies last week and it reminds me that, no, he isn't a baby anymore.

I love this season and watching him grow, but there's something about saying goodbye to the baby phase that's so hard. I waited so long for it, and I don't know if it will come again. It's like finishing a perfect book and gasping on the last page and pressing it up to your chest. It was beautiful, but it's over.

Luckily babyhood is not a book without a sequel and toddlerhood is keeping me too busy to wallow in the blues.

But oh, my heart.

Will at 14 months

Will has streaks of independence, times when he's contented to explore and play on his own, interspersed with streaks of clinginess, demands to be held, and carried, fussy moments when it's not clear what he really wants, moments when he seems to want to nurse.

I am still nursing him. I suppose this has reached the socially odd point, statistically speaking, while it seems not at all odd to me. I'm hoping that weaning will just be a natural progression. I don't want to have to force it. But these days, when he seems more attached to nursing than ever, I feel nervous that we're going backwards!

But I'm learning that just because he's over a year, toddling around like all get out, and quite confident and persistent, doesn't mean he's not still a baby, who needs closeness and reassurance, and often.  Nursing is one of the most natural ways I can give him that. So we keep going.

Walking has turned to a nice little trot and a dogged determination to climb anything and everything.
His favorite toys these days include his red wagon, the mop handle, broom, and a few noisy flashing light toys that are my salvation whenever he's in the car. He's still not a big fan of the car seat or long car rides, so I need props.

His favorite "naughty" toys include electrical wires, the trash can, the toilet bowl, and my poor succulent pots, which by now have been ripped up several times by his eager paws. He loves digging in the dirt, which he eats on a regular basis. I have tried scrubbing his fingernails, but they are permanently stained. I surrender to the dirt.

He has three teeth on top now and four on the bottom with the most adorable gap-toothed smile.

He's sleeping through the night, most of the time, to my great relief, but we still have relapses.

He says something resembling mama and dada at times, but the context isn't clear. One thing that does seem  clear though, is when he says "na na na" for "no-no". He said this the other night when I tried to feed him avocado. He shook his head, spit it out and said "na na na". So that's it. Guess "no-no" is his first clear word! Ha! I'm excited to see what comes next.

Surrender

A good friend once confided in me that she didn't understand how women lost themselves in motherhood and had to find themselves again. As a mother she never felt like she lost her self.

I wish I could agree. I want to agree. But I'm lost.

Since having a baby I've been coming to terms with motherhood in layers. I keep thinking I will come to the end of it, that I will finally feel settled, but I peel back one layer only to find another layer there to be dealt with.

Lately I've had to redefine my own job description. I've always been overambitious and perhaps (a wee bit?) over optimistic about what I could accomplish. As a mom, my expectations of myself are much too high, leaving me disappointed, frustrated, tired and overwhelmed.

So I've re-written my job description. Literally. On paper. And pinned it up where I can see it everyday as a reminder.

I've cut out extras. I've eliminated fripperies and ridiculous egocentric aspirations. My expectations of myself, and for better or worse, my world, has gotten much smaller. I need to take care of Will, take care of myself, be nice to my husband, cook dinner (usually), and keep the house (sorta) clean(ish). That's the most important stuff. Everything else? Optional.

It's hard for me to admit this to myself. It's hard to admit that's all I can handle in this time of my life, with one, count 'em, ONE kid. I'm embarrassed. Humbled. But it is what it is.

I've had to "surrender". My same friend sent me a book called Surrendering to Motherhood by Iris Krasnow. Only now am I seeing what that means for me - letting go of my preconceived notions of what I'd be able to do, what I'd be like, how I'd feel, letting go of control, letting go of my desires, letting go of my ego. It means flowing moment to moment, in a symbiotic relationship with a needy little creature (who I adore, sometimes it seems to the point of pain). It means giving up the best of me with no paycheck, no worldly reward. Worth it? Yes! But I would be lying if I didn't say that it can be hard.

It is not a forever thing, and I know that. Sometimes it makes me sad to know this will pass, the smile on his face when I go in to pick him up from the crib, the way he plays with my shirt when he nurses, the way he hugs my neck. No, it's not forever. But for now it's so all-encompassing, that yes, I'm lost in it.

I want to do more. I want to write. Again. I picked up my pen and started working on a re-write of my novel. It came to me in a flash what I needed to do. So I picked up my pen, but it was slow going and felt incredibly awkward. My words were like a gawky seventh grader trying to write their first short story. But it's a start.

Maybe it's too early to try to find myself again, to dig out of this fleshy cocoon of motherhood. We'll see...

Early Happy Mother's Day, mamas. To those of you who have managed to do more than a load of laundry and a nap today, I salute thee.

A little tart

The March Anthropologie catalog came with an enticing image of a Strawberry Mascarpone tart by Nigel Slater. You can find the recipe here.

Seeing as I had some mascarpone on hand (what are the odds), I decided to try it and since my husband was just returning from a business trip and it was Will's birthday, it seemed like the perfect excuse.

Here's how mine turned out:

I love that it wasn't hard to make it look pretty. (I'm terrible at food presentation. I need to learn to do better! Maybe I can take a class on it at a local coooking school or something...) But besides it's smoldering good looks, it was, more importantly, tasty.

It was easy to make (if you have a Kitchenaid, it helps). I didn't follow the recipe exactly. I didn't have a square tart pan on hand. (Who does, really? Pastry chefs?)

I didn't have enough mascarpone, so I used cream cheese too. I also added more sugar (I like it sweet!).

And for the crust, I did not have almond cookies, so I substituted half graham crackers and half slivered almonds and ground them up in a food processor.

I love the way it turned out!

And... so did Will! This was his "first birthday cake" before the cupcakes we had at his birthday party the next day. He looked at it curiously at first, but once he got a taste, it was on, baby. He ate every last bite and even licked the plate.

Will at one year!

Happy first birthday, Ittle Bittle, Little Bo,  Little Buddy, Biggie, Bubba, Bo... Will! 

This month he's started putting things inside of things (like toys in a basket) instead of merely pulling them out. He still tries to get into the refrigerator and the dishwasher whenever he has a chance. He reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out an avocado, then toted it around the house, biting on it. He managed to bite through the skin and gnaw on the avocado flesh a bit. He likes to do this with apples too.

It seems like everyday he's reaching something new. It won't be too long before he's reaching doorknobs. OMG.

Yesterday he spent 30 minutes dragging and waving a mop handle around the house in absolute bliss.

He can open the trash lid and the toilet lid, both of which are quite annoying and anxiety provoking! Especially if he manages to get those little hands in the toilet and when he pulls things OUT of the trash and tries to eat them.

Recently there was a bright shaft of light hitting the floor and he stopped and bent over and tried to pick it up.

He still has his clingy days, but he has moments of independent play as well. He toddles around and then comes back to me for a moment of connection. He's become a good little snuggler and leans in for a hug. Oh, my favorite thing in the world!

Will's favorite foods are still pretty much the same, but I keep trying to expose him to new foods often. His favorites include: Eggs, oatmeal, yogurt, cheese (brie! Fresh mozzarella! manchego!), banana, pear, watermelon, ground beef, chicken tenders. He does not yet like cow's milk. Which fills me with some anxiety around the subject of weaning. But I'm reconsidering my plans for weaning at a year. He doesn't seem ready, I don't mind breastfeeding, and after doing some research I'm feeling open to it.

Up until this week he still only had 4 teeth! But a new one broke through on the bottom, so now he has five. The weird thing is, the morning I found it, I'd had a dream about it the night before. I checked his mouth - and there it was!

Will's favorite toys are everyday objects from our house that he totes around. I call them his treasures. His favorite treasures include:

• Empty starbucks cups, water bottles and coke zero bottles
• Glue sticks (lid on of course)
• Our keys
• Retractable measuring tape
• Stainless steel measuring cups
• Bag of dried cranberries
• Spray bottle
• Wet dishcloths
• Watering can
• Remote control
• Telephone

He's not big on reading books. He doesn't sit still for me to read to him. So I don't try to read to him very often. I feel bad about this sometimes, but he's just not ready yet - he's in full on physical development mode - I don't think he needs to be pushed on verbal development until he's ready. But he does have a few simple books he likes to carry around and look at the pictures in. The Bright Baby animals book is one of these - I love those books!

We take him on walks often, usually carrying him in the baby carrier. He is spoiled. Seriously. I don't think this (very heavy) baby has even seen the inside of a stroller in a couple of months. But stroller time will be coming soon. He's just going to be too heavy to take on a 30 minute walk.

Almost every day we have outside time which we BOTH enjoy. He likes to watch cars go by. When people go by walking their dogs, that will get him really excited. He starts "talking" and points and sometimes tries to follow them.

Pointing is his only gesture, even though I've been trying to teach him to wave and clap. We wave goodbye to daddy every morning, but he doesn't get it yet. He also doesn't have any words yet, but still babbles up a storm. In fact, he just starting saying "mumumum, mamama" and I'm getting excited to hear "mama" soon!

I cannot, CANNOT, believe it's been a year. It's been a blessed year and he's more fun and cute than ever. We love our little Bo!

Cornstarch

I know now why mothers get nervous when they hear silence. 

Will's been playing more independently lately. (Yay!) Which means he's contented to toddle around through rooms of our house as long as he knows where I am and when he comes back he finds me there.

This morning he toddled into the kitchen. Which is fine. It's a pretty childproof by now. But what I hear... is silence. This silence makes me nervous. When I finally investigate I find him sitting in the floor, surrounded by cornstarch.