We've had such a mild winter. I haven't had my coat on in weeks. There has been NO snow (much to Sammy's snowman building dismay!). The temps have hovered right around 40 for much of the winter. 40! That's...well, not winter in the valley. Spring, perhaps, but not winter.
However, every year, I think I've made it out of January unscathed, but then I look around, the first part of February and I see a couple bickering more than normal. I see my mommy patience all but gone. I see bloodshed and tears. Fights, frustration and fatigue. And I wonder what is happening. Why patience is low. Why the very voices of my boys set my teeth on edge. Why Sammy is capable of driving me insane by breathing. And then, when Isaac mentions we need to DO SOMETHING FUN, dagnabit, I remember. Cabin fever. Mild winter or no, it hit again.
So. Fun. We're thinking. Trying to come up with a few things. We need it. Now. But I'll still be holding out for a true early spring, anyway. Spring sends hope. And patience. And less bloodshed. Which is good.
(dave gahan, love will tear us apart)
Friday, February 3, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Top 5 Songs About Time
1. I'm Not Growing Old - Origin
2. Holding Back The Years - Simply Red
3. This Time of Year - Better Than Ezra
4. Turn Back The Clock - Johnny Hates Jazz
5. Wasting Time - Jack Johnson
2. Holding Back The Years - Simply Red
3. This Time of Year - Better Than Ezra
4. Turn Back The Clock - Johnny Hates Jazz
5. Wasting Time - Jack Johnson
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Maybe Baby
Babies. There are babies all around me. Half my book club is either pregnant (or just had a baby) or giving birth soon. I am knee deep in the time of life that produces babies for everyone. Well, mostly everyone. And it has been on my mind. A lot. I talk to my friends who are having firsts. I commiserate when needed and listen when needed. And through it all, I've found a surprising thing. I'm ok. I'm more and more sure in our road of only-ness. I rarely have a thought of 'what might have been'. Mourning for my baby girl never to be is so infrequent, now, and all I really think about is our journey. And what I would tell my 25 year old self, if I could.
I'm not sorry we waited to have Sammy. At all. We were told time and again how we would someday regret waiting, but that day still is not here and likely to never come. However, I DO know now that I would have been sorry had we not had him at all. The people who warned me about that are completely right. There is nothing like having a kid and if I had missed out on it due to my vanity or pride, I would have regretted it until the day I died. And probably then some. But I'm so glad I didn't have a kid during my 20s - my first marriage. That would have been the wrong thing to do. I knew it then and know it now. It wasn't in my story.
I'm a little jealous of the journey my friends are about to have - one of so, so many firsts that you think your heart will burst. Of seeing that face for the first time. Of being there for that incredibly difficult first year that you wouldn't trade for anything. I once read that having a child is like having your heart broken open and I've never agreed with anything more. I have an entirely new set of words to describe life that you can't understand unless you've been there. And I don't say that to non-parents for the fun of it. It's simply true.
I would tell the past me to grow up. Stop being afraid. Stop trying to stick my non-conformist flag in this particular hill because it's not particularly new. Or charming. Or non-conformist. It's a schtick that no one wants to hear about and when you cry and wail about your list of reasons not to have a kid, all you are doing is alienating the women who love you and want to help. There is a reason you protest too much. Deal with the root and be quiet. Work it out in private and hold on to the wisdom of the women around you. You will need it.
Parenting is the hardest thing I'll ever do, but nothing beats my kid's arms around my neck with a whispered "I love you more than the Earth!". And how ridiculous it seems, seeing such a simple thing in writing and knowing that it is far from simple. It is the most complex relationship in the world. You will not know what you are doing. Ever. You will hate it and want out, swearing you made a mistake. Probably more than once. Which is why it's so important to surround yourself with friends and love. Shut out the negative early and often. When you plunge into depression that first year, it's not noble to shut everyone out and go it alone. It's when people are needed the most. Because it IS hard. It IS messy. It WILL drive you crazy. But it IS all worth it. Somehow. One of God's miracles, I believe.
I'm ok with our path. It wasn't "normal" or accepted, really. And it certainly wasn't the one EITHER of us anticipated, but it was right for us. It produced hard things. It produced an unshakable bond. It produced a family. Of course I'm ok with it. Now. And while my wistfulness for what could have been is small, it's sometimes there and that's ok too. I was robbed of so much after we had Sammy and coming to terms with it all was (IS!) so tough. But it's doable. Seeing my life, now, I get it. I've had answers and small tender mercies that show me it's ok. But I get that I needed the trail to walk. To learn to be alright. With everything. No. Our story isn't culturally "normal". But it's our story and I find I wouldn't change anything that's made us, us. A family of three. And so worth it.
(this woman's work, kate bush)
I'm not sorry we waited to have Sammy. At all. We were told time and again how we would someday regret waiting, but that day still is not here and likely to never come. However, I DO know now that I would have been sorry had we not had him at all. The people who warned me about that are completely right. There is nothing like having a kid and if I had missed out on it due to my vanity or pride, I would have regretted it until the day I died. And probably then some. But I'm so glad I didn't have a kid during my 20s - my first marriage. That would have been the wrong thing to do. I knew it then and know it now. It wasn't in my story.
I'm a little jealous of the journey my friends are about to have - one of so, so many firsts that you think your heart will burst. Of seeing that face for the first time. Of being there for that incredibly difficult first year that you wouldn't trade for anything. I once read that having a child is like having your heart broken open and I've never agreed with anything more. I have an entirely new set of words to describe life that you can't understand unless you've been there. And I don't say that to non-parents for the fun of it. It's simply true.
I would tell the past me to grow up. Stop being afraid. Stop trying to stick my non-conformist flag in this particular hill because it's not particularly new. Or charming. Or non-conformist. It's a schtick that no one wants to hear about and when you cry and wail about your list of reasons not to have a kid, all you are doing is alienating the women who love you and want to help. There is a reason you protest too much. Deal with the root and be quiet. Work it out in private and hold on to the wisdom of the women around you. You will need it.
Parenting is the hardest thing I'll ever do, but nothing beats my kid's arms around my neck with a whispered "I love you more than the Earth!". And how ridiculous it seems, seeing such a simple thing in writing and knowing that it is far from simple. It is the most complex relationship in the world. You will not know what you are doing. Ever. You will hate it and want out, swearing you made a mistake. Probably more than once. Which is why it's so important to surround yourself with friends and love. Shut out the negative early and often. When you plunge into depression that first year, it's not noble to shut everyone out and go it alone. It's when people are needed the most. Because it IS hard. It IS messy. It WILL drive you crazy. But it IS all worth it. Somehow. One of God's miracles, I believe.
I'm ok with our path. It wasn't "normal" or accepted, really. And it certainly wasn't the one EITHER of us anticipated, but it was right for us. It produced hard things. It produced an unshakable bond. It produced a family. Of course I'm ok with it. Now. And while my wistfulness for what could have been is small, it's sometimes there and that's ok too. I was robbed of so much after we had Sammy and coming to terms with it all was (IS!) so tough. But it's doable. Seeing my life, now, I get it. I've had answers and small tender mercies that show me it's ok. But I get that I needed the trail to walk. To learn to be alright. With everything. No. Our story isn't culturally "normal". But it's our story and I find I wouldn't change anything that's made us, us. A family of three. And so worth it.
(this woman's work, kate bush)
same, same!
all about me,
parenting
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