I'm home.

I've been thinking about blogging again for a while now. So much has changed in the last few months. I tear up just thinking about it. I'm home now. That's right, I'm home with my crazy, wild, cranky, laughing, jumping, screaming, clinging, howling, sunglasses wearing, nursing, cackling, throwing, biting, ear twisting, drawing, loving, beautiful children. It feels right. It is good. I miss the mountains. I miss my parents. Fire Boy misses the mountains. He misses grandma and grandpa. Wind Girl is talking. She is peeing on the potty in exchange for chocolate chips. Wandering Dad's boss told him that he was "awesome", and I'm finding good people and friends here. We are good. We are better.

Bedtime Breathing

(sorting lentils with Fire Boy, no idea why I chose this picture)

This week each evening as I lie in bed beside my son before drifting off to sleep I breathe and say this in my head:

Thank you universe for helping me get through the day.
Please help me have

• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to get through tomorrow
• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to be what Fire Boy needs
• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to be what Wild Girl needs
• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to be what Wandering Dad needs
• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to be what my family needs
• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to be what I need
• the Strength, the Power, and the Voice to be me

Thank you universe!

Thankful

Today I am thankful for lots of things:

• the beauty of sunshine on show
• neighbors with big tractors and snow blowers
• the brightness of our house when there is sunshine on snow - no need for lights
• animal footprints in the snow
• towels that get washed, dried, folded, and put away without my intervention (Thank you dear husband!)
• sweatshirts rediscovered after years in the basement
• little girls in purple pajamas
• little boys with clean hair
• fresh bread
• dishwashers
• friends who keep me me going
• friends who give me knowledge
• the universe

power

I hope that my last post didn't sound too dismal. Well, probably it did. This morning I want to add that in many areas of my life I am very happy. I have a wonderful husband, two lovely children, and a very rich life in general. It's just that some potions of my life are not so wonderful and need lots of work. I have internal work to do which I am struggling to understand. I am beginning to grasp what I have the power to do and how I can change those portions of my life. Knowing That I have the power to make change is good.

my voice

My voice is missing. I try to speak, but it's a whisper. The louder I try to talk the quieter my voice comes out. This is frustrating. Maddening. But eventually I stop trying. Or give up. Or shrivel inside. Or boil inside. Or loose confidence that what I have to say is worth saying. Or that I can speak. Or that I should speak. But, thankfully, there are those I can still communicate with. Those who understand. Those who say that I should speak, that what I have to say is worth speaking. That I can speak. That I need to go and find that voice and put it firmly back inside my body and my head and move forward. Move on.

I have had tonsillitis for most of the last, what's it been, five or six weeks? Something like that. I've been sickish for ages. Low grade fever. Nasty tonsils. Ticklish cough. Not able to deal with things. And several times literally without a voice. We all used sign language, but I realized how hard it must be rely solely on sign language with your children. It's very hard to get the attention of a busy 17 month old and 4 year old without your voice. I've been to the the doctor twice and finished my second round of antibiotics a few days ago. I thought that I was all better, and that the ticking in my throat was surely something else, but this morning, sure enough, my tonsils are speaking up again.

So next week I will go back to the doctor, and he will give me antibiotics again. And all will eventually be well if I pop those nasty little pills and then repopulate the good things they exterminate. If only finding my Real voice was that easy. My voice that lets me out of myself. My voice that....that....I'm struggling for words to describe what I mean. My voice that is ME.

So much of ME is suppressed. For one reason or another so many of my dreams and desires and ideas and thoughts are put in a back room with the firmly door closed. I guess some of that is necessary in order to be a functional wage earning adult and parent, but too much of that practice is not healthy for mind or body. THINGS start to crawl out from under the door. Nasty smelly things. Creepy crawly things. Things that shouldn't be part of me. Things that I don't want to be part of me. Things I don't want associated with me. Sometimes the door slips open, usually when it has been opened to throw something else in, and all sorts of things tumble out and overwhelm the unsuspecting outside the door. This happens to me not infrequently, and my dear friends and family wipe me off and set me back up again.

There have been times in my life where I just threw open the door and cleaned out that back room. It's not necessarily easy or fun, but once it is done and I have found the important things once again and thrown out all the decayed or rotten things it has been easy to move forward. Sometimes on a completely different path. I am trying to get the courage to tackle that back room again. It is time for me to find the important things, dust them off, and bring them back out into the light. But how? Those dreams and thoughts and ideas are a bit light sensitive after being locked in a back room for years. My voice is scratchy from not talking and not being heard. Are those avenues of my brain grown over? How has my life changed and what is still relevant?

And then there is the balancing act. How do I clean out the back room while still maintaining the things that must be maintained? I can't magically and immediately be in a different situation where I can speak and my voice will be heard. Where I have constructive things to say and where my words are words from which action flows. Where I matter - as a person, as a thinker, as a doer, as me. Where I can Be Me. And Me is of value.

I'm trying to start small. Recognize that I'm worth hearing. Admit that I can be heard. Acknowledge that it's important for me to speak. That I must find a way. And I will. I will be Me. I will.

Appreciation of Reality

midnight moonlight on the snow, by Wandering Dad

It's easy for me to read ideas and theories and decide what our home should be like. What I want for it. How we should behave. How we should clean up. When we should nap. What we should eat. How we should speak. But that's not reality. The reality is at home, where I am not. I can make some of my ideas and dreams into reality, but I cannot magically make all this happen.

So I dream of having a Waldorf-ish style home, with simple mostly natural toys, rhythm to the day, beautiful spaces, appreciation of the natural world around us, positive and supportive environment, so on and so forth. When I look at much of society around us, we are far from the norm....far on the crunchy side. But when I look at the Waldorf blogs and books I feel like we have so so far to go, and it feels somewhat unattainable. Since I am not the primary parent I have only so much control over things at home. And, I am only human. I come home from work exhausted a lot of days, and I only have so much time and energy for change, creativity, and extras beyond the basics of life. In some ways I know this will sounds like a defense of myself for not changing and not being the change I want, but really, I'm not superwoman. I want to come home and have dinner and spend a few minutes with my children not thinking constantly about what I Should be doing to make change in our lives. And evenings are not the best time for "working with" the kids, who are usually clingy and need their mama fix. Some days I find energy for a little extra, a little push forward, or a little inner thought, but many days I do not.

In the past month I have been lucky enough to have a lot of extra time at home for holidays and snow days. It was really wonderful to have the additional time with my family, and it was also a good reality check. I have not had that much time at home since maternity leave over a year ago. And then we had a new baby and all that. Now we are shifting our parenting from babies to toddlers and preschoolers, and we are thinking about how we want to parent and what we want our home to be like. I do a lot of reading (although not as much as I would like), I discuss ideas with friends, and I think about what would be nice and fun and what might work for our family. And I take tidbits home to my husband, the stay-at-home parent in our household. Although in general we agree on parenting, we do have slight differences which come in part from our different backgrounds. We have different personalities and different levels of interest in personal development and internal work. And we have different levels of involvement in the realities of raising two young children.

This recent extra time at home gave me more of an opportunity of be a part of the daily rhythm at home, and to observe and appreciate what goes on there. I found renewed respect for what my husband does. I have deep and great appreciation for him and his work. He not only does nearly all the housework (including laundry, dishes, and toilets!), he cares wonderfully for our two young children, makes homemade meals nearly every weekday, uses cloth wipes on our baby's bum, and wears silk long johns (just had to throw that one in because I like it), but he also does his own tractor repair, much of our car work, does snow removal, keeps track of finances, pays the bills, mows the yard, helps garden, helps my parents cut firewood, does the grocery shopping, does our food co-op orders, helps our son with his speech, takes the kids on fun outings, plays the guitar, stays more up to date than I do on current events and technology, and is supportive of me (and I'm not exactly easy or laid back). At the same time Wandering Dad is finding himself. Trying to figure out who he is and who he wants to be and how he wants to parent and develop as a person. Wow!

I also noted that we have made some big changes at home. The change has been gradual, and it is a work in progress, but we are moving toward that seemingly unattainable goal of a simple, peaceful, beautiful home. Working with what we have and who we have, we have come a long way. And one thing that Wandering Dad and I agree on is that although we are not where we want to be, we at least have a mostly shared dream. I'm sure that my visions of our future are slightly more dreamy than my husband's, but at least we are headed in the same direction. His reality has many more little bums to wipe, many more little hands to wash, and many more little noses to blow. But he wipes and washes and blows with such patience (most of the time) and always with such love. What more can I ask for except slow and steady steps toward our joint dream of peace and beauty?

Goodby to Pumping

Today my workday is different. I am not pumping. I am not providing milk for my daughter's bottle tomorrow. It feels strange. I Could pump. I could lift the pump off the floor and up onto my desk and take out my tubing and hook it up and get out my pump parts and express milk into a bottle. But, I'm not. I'm not going to do it.

I never really thought about "hanging up the horns" as being a big event, but it is. For the last four years I have either been pumping, pregnant, or both. When I finished graduate school and started my first "real" job I was pregnant with Fire Boy. After a way too short maternity leave I went back to work and entered the world of pumping mothers. I was rather lost. This contraption was so strange. I was nervous. It felt strange. At times I had trouble letting the milk down. I was stressed over getting enough milk. My baby didn't take bottles well. I had all the worries of a new parent and all the anxieties of going back to work exhausted and juggling my roles as mother and wife and worker and also providing milk for my baby. I was glad to do it, but at the same time it wasn't easy. It seemed like my workday was consumed by drinking, pumping, eating, repeat, repeat, repeat. We had thrush. We had unknowledgeable doctors. We had doctors who tried to get us to stop breastfeeding. Fire Boy had a dairy allergy. I had a lipase issue. I had post-partum depression. I traveled for job interviews. I pumped on planes, in hotels, in airports, in cars, in bathrooms, in closets, in offices, and at home. We moved. I started a new job. And still I pumped. I pumped for Fire Boy until he was two years old and I was pregnant with Wind Girl and my milk dried up.

I have pumped for 16 months for Wind Girl, and we (Wandering Dad and I) decided it was a reasonable time for me to stop pumping for her. She is much more interested in food than Fire Boy was at this age, and much less attached to the bottle. So hopefully today she napped easily without a bottle of mama's milk (and if she really wants it there is milk in the freezer that can be thawed for her). In some ways I feel like I am cheating her by not pumping. The milk is here, ready for her, and I'm choosing to let it stay there and not express it for her. But also, I pumped for 16 months! That is a long time. She is a big girl, and doesn't really need the milk during the day now. She can still nurse all she wants when I am at home, and the amount of milk she gets doesn't have to be diminished.

Although there are days when I have Really not wanted to pump, times when I dreaded it, I feel so lucky to have been able to provide for my children in this way. And I think part of me needed to be needed in that way. I needed to provide milk. It was something that only I could do. I couldn't be there with them, but I, and only I, could provide mama's milk for them. It has been good for them, and it has been good for me in a way. I am glad I did it!

During this time as a pumping mother I have learned so much. I have learned about pumps. I have learned about traveling with breastmilk. I have learned to hand express. I about breastmilk storage. About bottles. About nipple confusion. About changing membranes regularly. About hand-free pumping. About pumping while driving. About supply. About oatmeal and Mother's Milk tea. And about the need for support and accurate information! I have also learned about cleaning milk out of computer keyboards, about overflowing bottles, about spilled bottles, and about forgetting to but the bottles on and soaking my pants.

Luckily though this all I have had supportive friends and family and the wonderful community at Kellymom. This support helped get us through our breastfeeding difficulties, and helped me develop into the mother that I am. I needed support in my endeavors, and I needed friends who I was not afraid to talk to about things like nipples, breastpump tubing, and baby poop, and who could help me see that reverse cycling was only a phase. It seems that everything is only a phase. And this phase of my life is over. I am no longer a pumping mama.

Wordless Wednesday: Four Generations of Women's Hands

Cracked.

My eyes focus on the rain drops coalescing on the windshield in front of me. I see the blurred brake lights of the car in front of me at the stop light go off. Time to move on. I drive. I have stopped crying. I pass the first turnoff to work. I pass the second. Finally I take the third. I can't just keep driving. I have responsibilities. I have to go to work. I have to earn money. I have to support my family. I feel so unstable today. Am I cracking under everything of the last few weeks? Have I not had enough emotional support? Am I just hormonal? Tired? Frustrated? Probably all of those. And one bad smoothie experience was the final straw.

Happy Birthday Wandering Dad

Today is Wandering Dad's birthday, and I have been thinking a lot about how much I love and appreciate him. I have known Wandering Dad for one third of his life, and I have seen him transform from college kid to stay-at-home dad. Wandering Dad is a wonderful and supportive husband. He is a dedicated and caring father (also with the added benefits of being supportive of and active in co-sleeping, babywearing, homebirth, and extended/tandem nursing :-) ).

2000

2005

2008

Wandering Dad and I have grown together into who we are now. We have both come a long way, and I am so very proud of my husband. He is more than I ever would have imagined when we met. Thank you for being you, and Happy Birthday!

thoughtful little boy (sometimes)

Last evening Fire Boy broke a toy. He broke the top off of his wooden toy gas station while I was putting Wind Girl to bed, and then he told me why he broke it off (he didn't like the sign on top). I explained to him that we do not break toys on purpose and that the whole toy garage might need to be put away for a while until he could learn to take better care of it (this is not the first time he has made modifications to the design). His first reaction when we tell him that things need to be put away is to check the severity. Our conversation went something like this...

FB: "Far far away?"
Me: "No, just in the back room for a while until you can play more carefully with it." "
FB: "Oh. Not far far away?"
Me: "No, not really."
FB: "No, I think we should give the garage to a little boy who needs toys."
Me: "You don't want to keep it?"
FB: "No, I think we should take it to a little boy who doesn't have many toys. And my toolbench, too"
Me: "That's very nice, but I think we'll just put the garage away for a few days."
FB: "No, no, I think we should give it away to someone else."
Me: "That's really sweet, dear. That's just like Snip Snap and Snur gave away their brand new yellow sled to the little boy who wanted one and didn't have any money. That's very nice of you, but I think we'll keep the garage and toolbench."
FB: "Okay. Let's draw a picture before we read books."

I guess this comes from the fact that we take outgrown toys to thrift shops and talk to Fire Boy about how we are donating them to children who don't have many toys. Yesterday I was sorting toys and asked if we could pass on one of the things he never uses, and he said "no", but gave me an item that is one of his favorites instead (I did not donate that item...).

Last winter I got warm fuzzies listening to Wandering Dad explain to Fire Boy about the Salvation Army bell ringers. My the end of the season Fire Boy wanted to put change in every bell ringer's bucket. Maybe this year he is ready for a more active roll in giving?

So for now I will focus on Fire Boy's thoughtfulness and generosity instead of the fact that he modified a toy because he didn't like the sign on top.

can I be mindful? can I be positive?

So, I haven't moved way up a holler without running water or electricity and so been unable to blog (but maybe that's not such a bad idea...). I'm here. I think about writing but seldom make the time. I think about life. A lot. A whole lot. I think about the changes and opportunities that we have available in our lives. Both internal change and external change. I struggle with the relative importance of these two - internal and external - and I struggle to find the balance and happiness.

Both Wandering Dad and I have a tendency to be, well, critical. We want things our way. We want things done right. We want it to all line up. We want it to fall into place. Easily and quietly. Well, guess what. It doesn't. So we tend to be dissatisfied on some level. And we have trouble moving beyond that dissatisfaction to see the richness and wonderfulness of what we have. We have a lot on our plate right now, but we also are tremendously lucky in so many many ways.

So, instead of focusing on the stinky shrews that have colonized our wall and made out basement playroom smell like Yuck, I hope that we can focus on how wonderful it is to have a large playroom and what we can do to make this space a pleasant place to be as we go into winter (after the shrew stink is gone). Thoughts like that - for even the much larger things on our plate. Conscious thought transformation. Is that part of mindfulness?

I've been seeing the word mindfulness a lot lately in my reading. I read a bit here and a bit there (even my reading is disorganized these days - or actually, these years), and I see the idea of mindfulness, and I like it. But I'm still hesitant to use that term. I want to bring it into my life, but I'm still not sure I "get" it. I have been reading blogs and books and trying to learn about personal transformation and how to incorporate bits and pieces into my real life. I would like to be a better person, but I'm also trying to be realistic about how much I can do on the very limited time and energy I have as a working mother of young two high needs children. We're talking baby steps here.

And I've been thinking about how writing fits into my life. I write emails and chat with friends and things like that, but I think there is a place for writing here in this space, too. Somehow it helps me to write down some thoughts and then go back over them and proofread and try to make something that is a tad bit coherent and makes a smidgen of sense. It could also be helpful to write down current thoughts and goals and things I want to strive for. Accountability on a very very low level.

Another way that I think writing has helped me in the past is to organize my thoughts around the good things in my life. Writing here could provide a time to focus on the good things. When Wandering Dad and I were engaged for the last two years of our undergraduate days - him down south, and me up north-ish, we called and email and wrote letters. I loved to sit down and write letters about what I was doing and the little things that I saw or thought. The bugs or leaves or trees or sunshine or the warmth of the steps I was sitting on or people I saw, things like that (I think Wandering Dad probably got some odd letters!). Of course we wrote love letters, but we also wrote letters to share the little things in life. And I think writing like that brought those little things to the forefront and made them cherished.

When I was blogging somewhat regularly, and for weeks after I stopped, I would think about things in my life that were stories I wanted to tell. The little happy things. The good things. The things that give me warm fuzzies. Yes, I have written about some of the not so warm fuzzies, but I really enjoyed putting down the good things in writing. I took pictures on walks with the kids. I thought about what we were doing and how great it was and how I wanted to share it. And that was good! It was good to be searching my everyday life for the good things worth sharing. It felt good. Most of them never actually made it onto my blog, but I'm thinking about trying again. I want to bring those things to the forefront of my life. I want to consciously shift my thoughts toward the positive and good in my life. That doesn't mean I won't be grumpy or tired or lonely or dissatisfied with portions of my life, but I'll try not to dwell on those. Why not spend some energy on the happy things, too.

(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday - breakfast with children

Another lovely morning with children. ;) And yes, my son is exploring his nose. Or maybe he's fishing out the kisses. I didn't mean to take such a flattering picture of him, but hey, at least he's not screaming.

And while we're on flattering pictures, even babies have bad hair days.

My son looking being slightly more acceptable...

And, my wonderful and patient husband!

Birth Quilt and Birthday

Today was my daughter's first birthday. We will have a small party at my parents' place tomorrow, but today we just stayed home and appreciated our family (as much as we could with a screaming toddler and fussy one year old).

Last year my mother and I both independently came up with the idea of a "birth quilt", and both independently picked out the same pattern. This pattern spoke to me, and I knew that she was making it, but never imagined how beautiful it would really be. Last weekend she gave me this wall hanging, "Lone Star Spiral", in celebration of the birth of her grandchildren. The pictures don't do it justice.

A year ago...(birth story)

My baby will be one year old tomorrow. I have been thinking a lot lately about a year ago and how much has happened since then. A few days after our daughter was born I wrote the following about the birth....

---------------------------------------------------

My midwife, MW, and her family stopped by to check in at around 4:30 on Friday. She did a quick prenatal while the kids and husbands played in the yard. They left about 5:30 and then our son, D, and I helped WanderingDad cut some lumber for the new play house and I started to get dinner ready.

Around 6pm I noticed that the contractions started getting pretty frequent and stronger. By 6:30 I called MW and my doula, MC, to tell them that I thought real labor was starting and wanted to give her a heads up. We put my parents on stand-by but told them we would try to get D to bed at our house. We quickly had a bit of dinner and soon I had to "sing" through contractions. I called MW back a little before 7pm and told her that I would want some company soon and that she could call MC and the "supervising" midwife, DB, who was over an hour away. I also called my parents to tell them to head this way to get D. They had people at their house and had to get send them on their way before they could leave, so they left around 7:05 for the hour drive over here.

WanderingDad rushed around trying to get D's last minute things together and start filling the birth pool, clean up tools in the yard, etc. D did really well and hung out with WanderingDad most of the time. WanderingDad said he handled me "singing" very well. MW arrived around 7:30 and I think contractions were around 4 minutes apart by then. I was going on all fours for contractions. She listened to baby a bit and everything seemed fine so she just hung out and started getting things ready. MC showed up shortly afterward and joined us in the basement. The hot water ran out about half way through filling the birth pool (we think an element is out in the water heater - great timing...). WanderingDad was still trying to get things together upstairs for D to go, and MW had him boil a few things since she wasn't sure DB was going to make it in time.

Things were getting pretty intense by then. MC and D played ball down in the basement with us, and D didn't seem to be at all upset by the fact that I was not being exactly quiet during contractions. The only time he got upset was once before MW and MC got there when he and I were playing ball and I had to quit during a contraction. That made him mad. :) During some of my contractions when I was down on all fours D came over and crawled underneath me saying I was a bridge. Amazingly, it didn't bother me to have him there and crawling under me. I hugged him and talked to him some between contractions.

Around 8pm (I think) I was ready for him to be out of the way so I could have peace and have MC focus on helping me. We sent him upstairs, but he wanted to come back down and play. Luckily my parents showed up right then and WanderingDad put the car seat in their car and D was thrilled to see them and to go with them - we had been talking about how he would go to their house while mommy had the baby. My mom could hear me working hard and didn't even come down to see me, which was just fine with me. I was glad to have D out of the way, but I was also glad that he got to be there for part of it.

After that things happened very quickly. The contractions were very intense and I was glad to be done with each one. There wasn't much time in between to rest, and I heard MW tell MC that I had 3 in 10 minutes. I started feeling a little water with a few contractions and so they put some pads underneath me on the floor. I was leaning on the bed on the floor for the contractions. I just let my body take over and didn't try to do anything in particular, just what felt right. MC and MW asked a few times if that contractions had felt different - said I sounded different. Soon we had more water and they said that I was starting to open up. I was kind of feeling the urge to push and they said to just do what felt right.

After a few more contractions I was really pushing. It was really intense, but happened very quickly. Once I was pushing the contractions were a little farther apart with more time to rest in between. WanderingDad was there by then and was able to see what was going on. He saw her crowing and then saw it when her eyebrows were out and then her nose, head, etc. Later they told me that it's really neat to watch a baby come out when mother is on all fours since baby is looking up (in ideal position). WanderingDad was not grossed out by it at all like he thought he would me. It was all so calm and lovely (except that I was working darn hard ;-) ). The baby came out around 8:27 I believe.

There was a fair bit of bleeding so they had me get up on the bed and lie down. The bleeding pretty much stopped then and they think that the placenta separated when I had her and that's what caused the extra bleeding then. They put her up on me and we got to look at each other. It was lovely. DB showed up shortly afterward and said everything seemed fine.

After a while (no idea how long) they clamped the cord and WanderingDad cut it. They tied it off with string so she doesn't have a big hard clip - that's nice. Then they had me help deliver the placenta. WanderingDad got to hold the baby then. They checked out the placenta and put it in a bag in the freezer so we can do as we please with it. After a while they checked me out - while DB was still there. I had a small tear on the inside, but it didn't go all the way through and there was no need for stitches. Everything else was fine.

They weighed baby and wrapped her in a different blanket since the first one got kind of cruddy. We weren't ready for diaper or clothes. DB went home after a while and we hung out in the basement for a while with MW and MC. We didn't take many pictures because we had the lights low and the flash really made the baby jump. When I was ready they helped me get upstairs and take a shower. I had managed to get blood from my shoulders to my toes and was happy to stand in nice warm water for a while. I was feeling really good. Mainly just weak and "empty" feeling. I guess my organs rearranging felt strange.

MW and MC washed off the baby's face and hair a little bit. She doesn't have much hair. The "cheesy" stuff (can't remember the real name) on the rest of her absorbed pretty well so we didn't worry about bathing her all over. She's nice and soft and lovely without a bath. I had a snack and got settled. MW and MC cleaned up in the basement and had a snack while WanderingDad and baby and I rested and talked and looked. We thought we knew what he name was going to me, but we weren't sure (and it changed the next morning). MW and MC got us settled and left around 11:30pm I think. WanderingDad and I talked a little more and when to bed shortly after that.

I didn't sleep well at all that night - probably all the hormones. The baby wanted to be snuggled right up next to me - I guess trying to get as close as she could to "home". Saturday morning we all snuggled for a while and then got up and puttered around a little. I felt really good except for being very tired and weak. By afternoon I was feeling a little more sore down below, but not too bad.

D did really really well at my parents place – his first night alone there. He was wound up when they got there so it was around 10:30 or so before he got to bed I think, but they said he slept well from 11-7am. He snuggled with my mom most of the night. The next morning he didn’t want to eat anything (not unusual) and was pretty grumpy by the time he eat much at 10:30. My dad went to work but came home at noon. They tried to take a nap and were nearly successful but D started thinking about us and wanted to come see Mommy and the new baby. So he slept some in the car on the way back over here.

When he got here he was not at all happy and wanted to go back to their house. Our daughter, SR, and I were on the front porch swing and stayed there for a while since we didn’t want to introduce her when D was in a bad mood. After about 20 minutes of sitting stubbornly in the car by himself WanderingDad convinced him to get out by offering a set of construction vehicle matchbox cars. That got him out to play in the driveway. But he pooped about the time SR and I made it around there, so he had to go in for a diaper change.

So we all went inside and D was just delighted to see the new baby. He wanted to hold her, so we let him sit on the sofa and hold her and then the both nursed. It was really sweet. He has been very good with her so far. Very gently and kind. He wants to hold her a lot, so we are trying to accommodate that request when possible and let him pat her when he can’t hold her. He’s a little distressed when she cries, but just wants to help make it better.

Bedtime last evening went well. MW came to do a checkup around 6:30, so we were a bit late on bedtime. It was 8pm by the time D was done with his snack, and by then he was pretty wound up. I got SR swaddled and to sleep over on the side of the bed so that D and I could have our regular bedtime routine. Part way through reading books she woke up and wanted to nurse and he was very patient and good for that. I got her back asleep and then he nursed for two minutes (that’s the limit at bedtime) requested and extra minute of boob time and then wanted to be “upside down superman” and fly over to his room and use the potty before bed. WanderingDad lay with him for a while and then was able to leave.

This morning when D came in he was all smiles and wanted to see the baby more than he wanted to nurse. I had already nursed her for about an hour, so she was quietly awake. That was nice. D nursed for a few minutes, but not his normal morning half hour. Then he patted the baby and felt her fingers and ears, etc. He is so sweet. WanderingDad changed SR’s diaper and then both children nursed a little more. The morning really went well. SR has really wanted to nurse a lot, so I carried her around nursing while I got some breakfast and then hung out with D while WanderingDad ate. D has been very interested in what she’s doing and it’s lovely to see him so caring with her. I’m sure that there will be rough times ahead, but so far he’s being an absolutely wonderful big brother. D wanted the baby to go grocery shopping with them this morning, so we had to convince him that she would stay home with mommy.

So I’m tried and should probably be resting this morning while WanderingDad and D are out, but I really wanted to type some of this up while it’s still fresh in my mind.

holes

I'm sure that most people have down times in life. But for some of us those down times can be significant and require a little extra help to move beyond. And moving beyond requires an in depth review of cause and effect and analysis of what is within and what is outside of our control. More is usually within than expected. It's easy to blame anything and anyone else, and it's harder to accept that the problem and the power lie within. It's also darn hard to accept the fact that help is needed (sometimes chemical, sometimes emotional, sometimes spiritual, often all of those). It's hard to make changes when you're "barely getting by as it is". It's hard to get off your bum to do the hard work when you have no energy to do even the fun stuff. It's hard to move beyond fear and anger and panic and doubt and blah. And it's darn hard to say "I have a mental health problem and I need some help here!" Strong willed and don't want to pop a pill every morning? Especially at that price monetary price tag! Worried about what might go through milk to babies? Oh, and speaking or price tags, therapy, oh my goodness! But what about a happy healthy home. It's not instant. It's not easy. No miracles. But, climbing back out of a hole is good. It's much easier to sit at the bottom, but there is fun and love and life at the top. I am lucky to have friends and family who order me to put up my hand and hold on to theirs while the pull me back up. I've visited holes before, dug in bit by bit not realizing that I'm below the top soil and then struggling to find a way out. I will most likely visit holes again in my life, but for now I'll cling to the grass at the top.

Nowtime

A friendly robin told me to walk. So I did. I walked and I listened and I felt.
I walked uphill and down. I walked over bridges and saw robins and squirrels. A young tenative squirrel.
I saw lovers and readers and walkers and resters.

And part way through my allotted time I looked at the clock and discovered that I had time to spare.
So I decided to sit for a bit.
Traffic, birds, squirrels, voices, wind in the trees.

It wasn't much. But body and mind say do it again. I will. Now one more loop in the woods before I go.
Hot spots on my heels indicate how unusual such excursions are (and maybe the need for new walking shoes).

I followed the words in my head and let it be about me. Not about home or work or others. Not about life or change or anything in particular. Just now. This moment. Compose words in my head. No direction. Just words. This was me time. Not theirs. Not life. Mine. Nowtime.

Wordless Wednesday - me in a former life

I guess it's not wordless if I write a caption, but at least less wordy...
As I think about who I am and who I want to be I sometimes look back to who I was. This was in one of my former lives.

isolation

I have been at work all day and have spoken to no one except my husband and 10 month old on the phone briefly. The isolation of a lonely office is different from the isolation of being alone in the woods or working alone at home, both of which I found quite doable.

what i need

Last evening I spent a little time weeding in the garden while my husband was mowing the lawn. Our son played in his digging hole at the edge of the garden and checked in with me periodically. Our daughter sat on my lap or in the hay beside me trying to eat weeds. And I listened. My mind was open. Thank you woowoo mama for the reminder to listen. And what I heard was that the reasons for my distress at working outside the home go beyond missing my children. Yes, I want to be with them, but it is more than that. Being a working mama means I have no time for the things that are important to me to be me and to be a mama. Deep things that seem simple but cannot be brushed aside like I have been doing. I have a deep need to provide for my family, not with a monthly pay check but with my own hands and my own self. It sounds silly. I mean, we have money to buy the things we need and want, why on earth would I personally need to be more involved. I don't know the answer to that, but it is what it is. I have been reflecting on this since last evening, and it makes sense. It is true. It is me.

Before we had children I was able to work And to do the things I needed to do to be me. I spent my free time growing plants, canning and freezing food, making things, etc. When we lived in suburbia and didn't have a large garden I made and canned our own soups to take to work for lunch. I cooked a lot. Baked a lot. I took fresh hot cinnamon rolls to my husband's work and fresh bread to seminars at school. And we were drawn home to the farm frequently. Now that I have children that deep inside part of me needs to provide for them. It is what I am meant to do. Not that I need to make everything for them, but a part of me, a big important part, is aching because I can't do what I am meant to do. I can't provide for their most basic needs in the most basic way. I have no time to cook and sew and can and teach. It's meant to be simple, and it can't be. Instead I have to take the round about path of working to earn money to buy the things and hiring others to teach them. And this is not a matter of "wait until they are older and then you will have more time to do the things that you need to do for yourself". No, what I need to do is provide for them! It is for me, but it's not that I want to have more time to myself, it is that I need to be a different kind of provider. And this is not something that I can do later. I only get one chance at this. I can't put these things off until the kids are grown, it won't be an option then.

A lot of these things are ideas that I have been flirting with for a while. Maybe I'm just hard headed or in denial, but these ideas are not new. Please guides, be patient with me while I try to grasp this and learn. Each time these ideas surface I take a little more of it to heart and remember for longer that it is true. I have been here before. There have been other times in my life where I felt too far removed from the basics of life and had to make major changes to recenter my life. Then gradually my life has moved away from that centering again. But I think we are nearing another big shake-up and recentering.

I feel is that there is a solution. It's not meant to be like this forever. So this morning I'm searching my mind and soul. What can that solution be? I don't expect it to jump out at me, but I think it's there somewhere. And it may take years to get there. But I also strongly feel that it will take all of our creativity and effort to make it work. If this is what we want (and it must be we, I cannot do it alone), then we must make it a big goal and take baby steps toward it. We must. Or the time will pass and the chance will be gone and it will not be what we Can do, but what we Could have done. And that will never bring happiness or contentment. So, please universe, give us the strength to put some effort where it is needed and find a way to meet all our needs, even our non-material needs.