Check out River wearing the same pajamas on his second Christmas morning back in 2008.
December 2011 Archives
Dear Sage,
We have reached the second chapter of toddler hood. It is titled "Pain in the Ass" with a subtitle of "unstoppable". You are into everything. All your brother's toys--broken apart and scattered. You want something--it must be had or you will enter baby rage. Nap time--only if forced. Food--optional. Can't ice cream be every meal? I know it will get worse before it gets better. That you will soon start running away in public and acting insane if we dare go out to eat. I know the tantrums (minor for the time being) will probably reach new highs. I've seen the other end of the tunnel though. Like your reasonable, communicative four year old brother. We'll get there. For now I'm going to enjoy the fact that you are still a baby. Still nursing and small, still in diapers and speaking nonsense. Especially since, if things go Daddy's way, you will be my last baby.
You are so much fun. Just being around you, seeing your joy and easy pleasure, your old little quirks and explorations--bring all of us smiles. I smile now just thinking about your bobbing up and down and trying so very hard to jump like River. Or the way you plopped up beside him on the couch to watch cartoons like he was. He leaned over, happy to have you pressed so close, and kissed your cheek. You are the little darling of the household. Even though we all get exasperated with your destructive tendencies, you bring far more pleasure than angst to each person around you. Yes, even when you bite which you will do, laughing wickedly, if anyone lets you pop a finger in your mouth.
You love to get pushed over on the bed. You will silently laugh with just hint of breath and four teeth showing. It is the oddest laugh ever. Your nose wrinkles when you do it. You look like such a brat.
You love dancing, just like River did. And if we sing to you, you will sing nonsense along with us in the correct tune. You have a great ear for music. You know the tunes to all River's favorite Christmas songs that we sang so much before the holidays. I can sing, "la la la" and you will sing it back to me with correct pitch and tone.
If you really want my attention you hardly ever bother with saying "Mama" instead you simply yell and waggle a finger. You're such a princess. One thing you flip out over is River's old tricycle. You love to ride that thing. I have pushed you on it for walks. If I have to remove you to carry it up and down stairs, you scream with hurt and rage. How-could-I-remove-you-from-the-tricycle?!
Earlier this month you had chair rage. I was not allowed to sit in my computer chair since you claimed it as your own. You would scream, claw at my legs and/or climb up behind me and try to push me off. Since then, you have learned to climb up all the other chairs. They must be pushed in at all times or you will be up on the table, knocking River's water over and playing in the puddle.
The poor xmas tree was destroyed by you this past month. Every single ornament within grab distance was removed. And you would do it, throw the ball at me and then run away laughing. You said "Hi" to every person we passed in Target and kiss Daddy goodnight every night with a "mwah!" noise before shoving him away, waving impatiently, and saying "Bye Bye". I told you "no" one day and you said "Yes" and nodded slowly and seriously. You put up a bare foot and say, "Stinky! Stinky!" in your small little elf voice. It is adorable. You aren't much of a talker but you understand a lot.
The monkey see, monkey do of a second child never ceases to amuse me. You know when you are missing out and will forcefully barge your way into people or climb into my lap to be a part of the action. This causes conflict when I am trying to put together a new toy for River or read him a book. You have no concept of waiting your turn. You are watchful and copy flushing the toilet, putting on costumes River just took off, and playing with toys he just finished playing with. River will often say, "She wants to do everything I do!"
"Sagey" you say, pointing to yourself in the mirror. Yes, sweet Sagey, my quite but forceful little spit fire. You love to wear headbands, purses, other's people's shoes, bracelets and necklaces. Or anything you think could be a bracelet or necklace. You thrive--grow, change, and learn. It is such a blessing to be with you each and every day.
Love,
Mommy
I picked up this hefty book at the recommendation of one of the blogs I read. This is not something I typically would read, but the cover artist really did a great job. Between that and the blogger's recommendation, I eventually got around to plowing my way through this.
Was it a bit dry and rambling?
Yes
But I really did enjoy it.
The novel travels through time focusing on a small shipping town in Denmark. You get a lot of history, a lot of sailing lingo and lifestyles, and adventures on the high seas.
Ahoy!
I'm not sure if every child is sensitive to sugar, but mine is. We are not a household of frequent desserts or daily candy consumption. So when River gets sugared up-- he can practically blast off to the moon.
Today in preschool, as part of their Christmas party, the boys made gingerbread houses. They were extremely, insanely hyper afterwards. I'm sure they had an amazing time.
It's time for me to get packing before I head north with the family for Christmas festivities. Posting will resume on Wednesday.
Have a very Merry Christmas everyone!
Although this book has a religious base, I think the advice inside is still applicable to all parents. I take parenting seriously. While a lot of nurturing is just something that happen naturally, I think all parents can continue learning how to do what we do better. We all have bad habits and frustrations. Parts of parenting where we "hit a wall" with our children and don't know how to get around it. Sometimes the right words can guide us to new techniques. It's all easier said (or read) than done. But wanting to change and educating ourselves is one of the first steps towards positive improvements.
The following are notes I wrote down that are particularly important to me. Things I felt I could work on. While I think I do a lot of things well--these are my weaknesses, things I was leaving our completely, or things I know but have trouble remembering to do that I think would be great tools to use to improve communication between River and I.
*
- Am I hearing my children or listening?
- Hearing--concerned about what is going on inside you
- Listening- involves caring and being empathetic
- Your eyes convey the silent language of love
- Don't bark order in the morning (I am so guilty of this)
- Be supportive of mistakes. No, "Listen to me next time!"
- Five minutes of quite time to talk to each children each day.
- The importance of positive reinforcement
- Nurturing message--show their value to you. More affirmations than corrections.
- Poor choice does not mean--bad boy
- "Stop it" include what child can do instead.
- tone and touch when correcting (compassion)
- Positive greeting always when child comes in door.
- Requests not commands
- And stop yelling (the hardest for me!)
I have always loved Christmas. I love the traditions, the anticipation, and the coming together of family. I love how everywhere you go, everyone and everything is swallowed up by the holiday. Growing up we always got a real tree. We'd decorate the tree with our ornaments. Bryan and I got one each year. We could trace each year of our lives by these ornaments. The round balls for Baby's First Christmas, the twin stitched felt horses, my swinging Santa, and my favorite--a wooden, pink-painted rocking horse with a red yarn mane and tail. My mother had thin wooden ornaments she had painted as a child and somewhere there was a Canter Family ornament lavishly made out of metal.
Each Christmas Eve we'd all pile in the car and drive to Connecticut for dinner with my mother's family. There was always a pasta dish with oil and anchovies that I could only get once a year. then home again sleeping in the car with blasts of cold air waking me up every time one of my parents rolled down the window while smoking a cigarette.
In the middle of the night, Bryan would wake me and we'd sneak out and go through our stockings. This was our one concession to waiting for a decent time to wake our parents so we could open presents. As we got older, Bryan continued to wake me up way earlier than I cared for. He continued to peek in the corner of his presents and try to re-wrap them. And even as an adult, moved out of our mother's house, he tore through his presents as quickly as he could.
*
On Monday I finally got around to emptying out the collage I made for my brother's funeral. In the process, I broke the glass and scrapped a few photos. I was only after my favorite--taken for Christmas, of the two of us facing each other on the couch. It's slightly out of focus, but what I love the most is our wrinkled noses and mock disgust. My mother must have told us to kiss each other. With my arm around his shoulder and a teddy bear on my lap, we are level--eye to eye. You can hardly tell I am older.
I gathered the rest of the photos and packed them away. I remembered almost two years ago now. Christmas and Bryan's death day a month apart but blurred together.
The day he died I was first trimester sick--nauseous, exhausted. I was eight weeks along and hardly able to function. I lived for River's nap time when I could rest and that day, I didn't get it. Instead, I got the news that he had died in a car accident. I functioned in a fog for the rest of the day. Heather came by and I don't know what kind of crazy conversation I might have had with her. I know I typed for this blog. I know I cried at the computer and then laughed. I thought out loud and then cried some more. Jason cooked venison and I tried to force myself to eat something knowing it would make me feel better. To this day, I'm not sure I can tolerate the smell of venison cooking.
Somehow I packed for River and I.
Somehow I search the closet and various photo albums for any pictures of Bryan--at my mother's request.
That night I hardly slept.
The next morning, I packed River into the car. I don't know how I made it to New York and my mother's, but somehow I did. I stopped to pee once and didn't stop again. When I got there--so tired and sick--my mother was arranging photos of Bryan into endless frames. I didn't rest. I didn't eat. I helped her collage photos and still more photos.
*
These sorrowful memories echo all my bright ones like a shadow dragged behind stepping feet--leaning long and lanky and black on days so bright you have to squint your eyes. It doesn't destroy Christmas, but it adds another note, a little bruise, a bit of woe.
I am even more thankful for another year here, another tree, another round of family traditions. I want to live. With appreciation and celebration, I want to live. These are the gifts my brother has left me-- memory and mourning, sadness and celebration. Coins that strike both sides of the spectrum.
Life is balance.
Life is both.
I've spent the last two weekends painting a white patch of hall. Most of the hall is a lovely shade of green that was left here by previous tenants. I found what remained of the paint stored in a closet and used it to touch up the walls which were partially covered in black marker scribbles. There was not enough paint to finish the rest of the hall. A year or two ago, a friend of mine gave me some left over paint she had that is a lovely deep orange color. So I decided to use that and just...never got around to it. Now the paint might be showing its age or the fact that I didn't mix it well enough. Perhaps I forgot to prime some of the walls or I primed them so long ago, that it makes no difference now. All I know is I put on two coats so far and it needs a third in parts. Only I have no more paint rollers. So this project must wait till after xmas before I can finish it. Then I must give another weekend nap time towards painting the same little patch of hall. I guess the good news is that I am almost done. Only a bit of touch-up work to do in a few other rooms and I can cross PAINT off my home-to-do list.
My next goals are major purging of unused items, mass donations and organizing the office/guest room. The porch/balcony will have to wait until the spring I suppose.
*
This past weekend we went to see the train display set up in a local mall and Jason was able to find our last remaining to-buy item for Sage before Christmas--an ornament for this year. That was two birds with one stone. The only remaining pre-Christmas hurdle was Santa Claus. Only the mall Santa had a line of nicely dressed kids, fancy strollers and annoyed but resigned parents. It looked like torture. A glance at the mall Santa was also rather disappointing. While he had a real beard, he looked like he was sweating to death in his red suit and was as far from jolly as he could get. I'm guessing we had the same opinion of the line. But the final straw was the sign with pricing. The lowest price being $15 for ONE! 4x6 print. We needed another Santa and fast.
Now I had checked out the Ikea website earlier in the month and seen nothing about Santa for this year. But I guess I was a bit too early, because a quick check on our phones and we could once again get our kids on a Santa lap for free at the Ikea Restaurant (that day only!) We needed to leave for Ikea right then. Back into the car, further down the highway and there was Santa sitting by Mrs. Claus. No line. No fee. Just a lap and some free cookies and Gog for after.
River refused--pinning himself in a corner and eyeing Santa like a trapped and panicked animal considering chewing off its own leg to flee.
We took Sage who screamed and wept--inspiring laughter and mockery on my part. What was with these kids? It was Santa! The same exact Santa and Mrs. Claus from last year when both my children sat together on those laps for a photo.
We got some lunch and most importantly, a bar of German chocolate that made perfect bribery for River. Eventually we did get a photo with the boy smiling on Santa's lap--though not the Santaphobic baby girl.
We did try.
The baby had to be removed before River would crack a smile.
It was only afterwards that I wondered why River hadn't pondered how Santa could be in two different places so quickly. Jason said he had.
"There are a lot of Santas, aren't there?" he'd asked.
Well sure kid, but not all of them are placed by the Swedish Meatballs, new spatulas, and cheap picture frames.
Let's stick with the Ikea Santa from now on.
Yoga would be easier to do at home, if a couple cats of mine weren't blood-thirsty yoga strap hunters....
I don't know what I was thinking.
Task
Make a batch of gingerbread cookies with kids.
It seems a simple enough thing, doesn't it?
The one year old was happily trapped in the kitchen and tearing through the cabinets, ripping magnets and River's art off the fridge. Then trying to wear pot holders, longer than her body, on her arms.
We got through step one with little hassle. Some pre-made mix, butter and an egg--mixed well and set in the fridge to chill.
One hour later...
Back in the kitchen to roll the dough and the one year old is not having it. Screaming, rattling the gate bars (but the door was open because of the oven heat and I couldn't let her wander outside), trying to climb the stool River was on. And then silence.
Sitting on the floor, her pink overalls covered in a soft mound of powdered sugar, her arms bent at the elbow and fingers spread--dusted with white--and an "Oh, shit" expression on her face.
Clean the baby. Clean the sugar. Resume.
Cutting cookies in greasy dough--stars, trees, bells, angels, gingerbread men. All to the varying sounds of a hungry, getting tired one year old.
Send River down to the floor each round of dough rolling to amuse his sister. Swap when the cutting begins. When he's down, she's climbing up onto the stool trying to snatch dough and eat it or gnawing on the corner of the counter angrily.
The kitchen is a mess. A mother's war zone of slimy dough smears, flour puffs, empty containers, and dirty cookie cutters.
Kick both kids out of the kitchen (and one is not pleased)...
...quick fix lunch, bolt food while cleaning. Cookies out of the oven, cooling. Clean baby. Clean lunch dishes. Order and peace and clean surfaces= mother's sanity restored.
Baby off to nap. A brief down time and then frosting cookies with the oldest. Sprinkles in messy piles--red and green and white. Messy, towering, horrible, corn syrup-laced created piles of decorative frosting. Sugar so potent that one cookie has the boy child running insane laps his eyes lit with the buzz of a sugar high.
And it was insane and it was unhealthy, but it was life at home with kids and he had fun. It was work and it wasn't required but it was Christmas.
Cookies on paper plates with candy canes and wrapped in plastic wrap to be given away. Job done. Check list checked. Scribble it off the to-do--black over black over black.
And I was tired.
Until next year when we try it all again. When two children are big enough for a sinfully, horrible, disgusting pile of frosting.
Maybe they will remember decorating gingerbread cookies with mom when they are grown. Maybe it will be knit into their happy memories of Christmas. If so, that's another check on the checklist--the checklist of my soul.
Ok For Now was a book club book, but since these are sister books (not exactly sequels) I went ahead and read both. They are young adult novels and extremely easy to get through. I love the author's style. Both books had me laughing out loud and left me feeling good. Positive, hopeful, and humorous. You won't be sorry picking these ones up. I'm glad I did, since these are books I never would have grabbed for myself otherwise.
I had a flip-out looking for the mini chocolate chips on Thursday. I needed them to make cupcakes for River's preschool on Friday. Only they weren't by the cake flour and the new bag of sugar. Had they fallen from the cart? Had they never made it back into the cart after I paid for them?! Now I needed to run back out after Sage's nap just to buy more *curses* mini semi- *curses* sweet *CURseS!* chocolate chips.
Then Jason called me (having read my ranting email) and told me that they were in the fridge where I had insisted they should be placed to keep them from melting.
Things like *this* happen often around here.
Those-- 'Where are my glasses?!" "They are on your head!"--type brain slips.
I blame it on the fact that my thoughts are like a small, frantically barking toy poodle. As long list of what I have to do, remember to do, what I have to remember for you to do and you to do and even you to do, and what I need to do at certain times on certain days.
I keep a planner and post-its. I even keep a post-it to make sure I make enough "time" *wink wink* for parental "work-outs" *wink wink*.
Yeah, I'm not even kidding.
I have lists of things I'd eventually like to do around the house. Lists of things I'd eventually like to own. Lists of things we need to buy but can do without (ie: more chandelier bulbs). Cleaning lists, lists of things I'd like to get to this week but it's okay if I don't, and daily lists of what to do and where to be.
I need to remember River's vitamins and mine each night, to fold the laundry that's been sitting in the dryer all day, to start the squash roasting during nap so it will be ready to go at dinner.
Let's not even go into the insanity that is cold weather + trying to get out the door.
Her coat, his coat, my coat, her hat, his hat, my hat, her gloves, his gloves, my gloves, her shoes, his shoes, my shoes. Grab keys, phone, diaper bag, purse...reusable shopping bags...fuck forgot them again. Did I pack water, snacks, enough diapers? Yes? No? Holy hell, get in the car already. Nap time approaches like Doom's Day on the horizon and you DO NOT want to be outside when that shit happens!
So, maybe it isn't surprising that my mind is Swiss cheese.
*
Now homeschooling adds a whole 'nother load to an already busy life. And here is how I do it.
1. I highlight my days on the class calendar and write them in my planner.
2. I order books on my topic at least three weeks in advance online through my local library (this way they have time to come in before I need to write my lessons and I can hunt for books without a toddler running away)
3. I sit down and research idea for lessons online and jot down what I think I could use two weeks in advance
4. I sit down to write my lesson two weeks before I teach with my stack of books and my list of ideas. I use the same format each time so I can cut and paste a lot of bits.
5. I send Jason things to print, including a hard copy of my lessons, to be done the week before I teach and I send him daily reminders to print it until it is done.
5. I make sure everything is out and ready for the lesson the night before I teach. I use my lesson plan and go down it to make sure everything is out and organized for the morning.
It takes a lot of organizing,planning ahead, brain storming, research, and time. Usually a few evenings go solely towards preschool prep work. And this also means I should be starting my planning this week for teaching the week of January 9th!
River's education is important to me and when I sign up to do something, I give it my best. The little boys shouldn't pay the price of me not doing my job or holding up my end of the bargain. It would be easier (on me, not my wallet) to just send River to a preschool and pay someone else to do all the leg work. Since I'm not, that work is on me. I treat it the same way I would a paying job.
So here goes.
Ocean Life it is! Let's see what I can find....
I always have this parent paranoia that I'm not doing-it-right. That I'm not making enough effort for the holidays and special events. My childhood memories of Christmas and birthdays are so amazingly, awesome that I feel like I can live up to the shadow of my mother's enthusiasm that made these special days so very special.
But through the lens of childhood, birthdays are more amazing than I see them now. River's birthday party, for me, was preparation, spending money, decorating on my tiptoes in the kitchen chairs and knotting balloons together, cleaning the house just to see it littered with toys and crumbs, and Jason slaving away all morning in the kitchen making a cake.
It's the flip side of the coin. The maker of the events may not be as exciting as my childhood role as the receiver of all my mother's hard work--but it is rewarding. To see his joy and the fun he had with his friends, to watch Jason's cake partitioned and consumed, to pick up the wads of torn wrapping paper and tape another birthday card up with the bunch--that was also awesome. Work, but well worth it.
If I learned anything from this birthday party (the first one he could really, really understand and enjoy completely) it is that we can do this. Jason and I can do this parenting thing and we can do it well enough. We can bring anticipation and excitement to those special days of the year. We can make our children feel adored.
But of course, we couldn't have done it without our guests. Friends of all ages who came to celebrate River with us. Thanks to Jensen, Oscar, Bennett, Liana and Nuria for coming to play. Thanks to Heather, who came even though it was her own birthday. Thanks to John--especially for not abandoning Sage at the table while the rest of us went to watch River open gifts. (you'll make an excellent Daddy some day) Thanks to Juliana and An for staying to chat. And thanks to Brendan for picking out an awesome boy-gift and letting my friendly daughter enjoy a couple stories on your lap.
Life is rich because of the people we are fortunate to meet in it.
River is a lucky little boy to have you all.
Dear River,
Last night I held you on my lap and asked you how old you would be tomorrow. "Four" you responded. I pretended to be aghast with a gasp and wide eyes. "How did that happen?" I shrieked. "How are you so grown up?" You made big eyes at me, cupped my cheeks and whispered, "I'm sorry, mommy" in your drama voice. The one you use when you are pretending to be Captain America dying on the ground or Spiderman unable to get up and continue a fight. Then I kissed you all over your face. Sage pushed her way into my lap and preceded to try to kiss you to. This caused squealing and laughter on your part and her happy yelling. Soon she was chasing you around the room. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. A moment when I pushed aside all anxieties and stresses to enjoy my most precious two little people for all that they were and all that they gave me. It's so hard to believe it has been four years since you were placed--bloody and crying on my chest.
I have come to believe that children are pretty much who they are going to be the very moment they are made. The bones of personality, the quirks, the passions are already in place. You have been quick to tears since the first moments. You have been quick to smile and quick to laugh and quick to inquire, speak, move, dance, and give love. That has not changed. You have always been kind. Never a kid to hit or push another child. Never one to rip a toy out of someone else's hands and demand it was yours. You'd rather wait and take it when you have a chance. You are still this way. I watched you play fight with a friend. Each time he pushed you to the ground, you smiled and got back up. He was aggressive and competitive. I doubt he would have gotten up with a smile. Your pushing and "hits" were pretend--light and gentle. His...not so much. Being cruel, rough, or thoughtless doesn't come naturally to you.
O, and you are so very sensitive. So very needful of touch, cuddles, reassurance, words, attention and time. In fact, I tell other people that you are my needier child. Yes, even needier than your younger sister. In many ways you remind me of myself. In other ways, you remind me of my brother. I lay my hand on your chest over your heart and I tell you, "You have a good heart, River. A very good heart." I am so very proud of you.
This month we have heard some new River-isms like, "I can't believe my life!" You say when you are surprised. Or, "I was just joking you!" You have begun to take your big brother duties more seriously--telling me when Sage puts something she shouldn't in her mouth and taking it upon yourself to hold her hand when we are outside. When she wouldn't come get her shoes on the other day, I was joking about leaving her. You did not think it was funny. You said we could not leave her and you would not go without her. I know she annoys you sometimes, but you are often the model of perfect big brother behavior.
You woke up this morning and asked me how fast you ran now and how strong you were. "As fast and strong as a four year old," I told you. Then you jumped. "See how high I can jump now that I am four? See how cool I am now that I am four?" As if being suddenly four gave you magical four year old powers.
The day started with a birthday sign, a CARS Tin with a birthday note from all of us and three chocolates. I placed a small game by your plate. Then I made you hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, your favorite breakfast sausage and gave you a doughnut covered in rainbow sprinkles. After breakfast, I read you a Dr. Seuss Happy Birthday story you had never heard. When you went to preschool, you took the mini cupcakes we had made together yesterday. When you came back, Daddy gave you a whoopie cushion and you played with Heather for a bit. Then we left for Friendly's. A wonderful Friendly's with stellar staff. We got an appetizer to share and a make you own sundae for you. When they brought it out all the workers there sang you a song. Almost the entire restaurant was clapping in time to the song. You hunkered down against Daddy overwhelemed by it all. And it took you awhile to blow out the candle. Though you had no problem telling everyone you were four now. Or how you used to be three, but now you were four. The Friendly's folks gave you a card signed by all of them with a menu to order another make you own FREE sundae next time you come back. (I know what we'll be doing after you get your shots next month since you doctor is right across the street!) We then went to the dollar store to buy you some birthday decorations for your party tomorrow and tipped a sax player outside to play you your favorite Xmas songs, Jingle Bells and Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Then home to presents. You still will fixate on one gift and not want to open any others. We had to make you open the rest after you got your Captain America action figure. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and abandoned presents as soon as they were unwrapped. I thought you would have grown out of this, but no.
I can't begin to tell you how special you are to me and how beautiful. You have warm brown eyes ringed with darker bands of color like the life lines of a tree. Your lips often become chap. So it is good that you love chap stick. You have big feet and your back tans the best of any part of you. Some of your hair still curls, but most is now straight. You have your father's chin and the shape of his mouth but your face is very similar to mine as a child. You are so tall already and very fast. You still love to be read to and have an amazing vocabulary. I almost wish I could box up a version of you and open it for you when you were a man grown. Show you what a precious boy you were and how very much I loved you then. I suppose this is why I write you these letters. So you can see how important and amazing you are in this moment and how you have always been treasured.
Happy 4th Birthday, River Reed!
I love you so.
Your,
Mommy
*
A wonderful, blessed four years of you.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
"plow" my favorite pose. It make my upper back happy.
One of my favorite things in Yoga is learning from different instructors.
My favorite instructor, Erin, is very high energy and radiates confidence and a sense of peace. She brings something new to class each week. I can't predict what she will do. I always feel like I learn something about Yoga beside the positions. You can tell she loves what she does and believes in it. Her passion for yoga spreads to everyone in the class. She never hesitates to give individualized advice. She's corrected me many times. Even getting down on the floor to show me what to do. Her class is very challenging for me and I thrive in challenge. I also thrive on unpredictability. She is by far the best fit for a yoga instructor that I have ever had. I get bored easily. I like Yoga fast, diverse and high energy!
In the other yoga studio, Jeff, taught me the most about what benefits Yoga has on my body. How each positions impacts my health. Compressions massaging my inner organs or glands and inversions bringing blood to my brain and helping with depression. He also stressed strengthening my back muscles. Since taking a month of weekend classes with him, I can lay more comfortably on my stomach than I have been able too since before I had children.
I took another class with a woman named Lauren. She really got into the perfection of singular positions. Her words to lead with my heart, really helped me feel how to hold my body when standing and how to ensure better balance for standing poses.
Each instructor has a set of phrases that they use to vocalize a way to move or be. It is through their varieties that I am able to translate these words into a better understanding of Yoga--of how to hold myself, of how to breathe, of how to heal and think and respond.
Yoga is much more than tying yourself into knots. It is the peaceful connection between the body and the mind, about taking time to reflect, accept, heal and celebrate oneself. And so, how one impacts the world around them. It's inviting in peace. The movements are an expression of the mind's desire to be balanced and healthy. The movements help me focus and release tension that my mental state puts into my physical being. A stress free body, allows me to put my attention on my mind and sort through stresses there.
Obviously, I love Yoga. From my first class doing it in the winter of 2007 through to River's birth. Over the long hiatus when time and money were too short to support me continuing it--I missed Yoga. Now, doing it again, I realize how vital it is for my health.
Yoga is my therapy.
*
I want to share my favorite vinyasa on this blog. I can't help but feel both soothed and energized after going through this pattern of movements a few times. Forgive my ineptitude, because I am hardly a yoga master.
1. swing your arms up while you take a nice deep inhale
2. give yourself a nice little back bend and listen to the popping of your spine
4. exhale as you fold forward over loose knees letting you head, neck and arms sag.
5. Inhale into plank position
6. Exhale as you lower (hint: keep your elbows tucked into your sides!)
7. Inhale into up-dog position
8. Exhale into downward-facing-dog position
9. Inhale your right leg up into three-legged-dog position
10. Exhale as you pull your right leg under your body to rest between your hands
11. Inhale yourself up into a lunge.
12. Repeat steps 5-11 but use your left leg for three-legged-dog and lunge.
13. Swing your arms back up as your rise on a big inhale.
14. Exhale to prayer pose and rejoice in the feelings rushing through your body from a job well done.
Namaste~
Everyone needs one of those feel good type books once in awhile. The type that remind us that even though life sucks sometimes, it has its silver lining. That trials come and go and we have to keep on trudging on--hopefully with minimal complaining and self pity. Hopefully, we can heal, forgive, and move forward while still welcoming joy into our lives.
This is a book about nontraditional families and loss. Which suits my mood these last few days.
I dreamed about Bryan the other night. I dreamed he had found a new pizza place and was happily eating pizza. Such a simple little dream, but so very real. The nobs of his knees through the baggy and worn fabric of his jeans, and his big block head, and sleepy, stoner eyes. His small teeth and sheepish smile. It was all there and when I woke up, I curled around the ache in my heart.
I heard John Lennon's Christmas song on the radio. I could only think of how many times my mother played that last year--our first Christmas without Bryan. For the first time, I felt sadness beneath my excitement for the holidays. It crept up and numbed me. I just felt tired. Felt for a moment that I just wanted to sleep through the rest of the month.
It grew worse after talking to my mother. She was always the Christmas spirit of the household. I can tell from her voice that Christmas is still just a hurdle (a hell hurdle even) to jump over this year--the same as last.
I let out a big sad sigh from the deepest part of my gut where mourning never seems to end.
I also saw a man today that looked a bit like my father taking his grandson out to play. I thought, with a measure of self pity and bitterness, how my Dad could have had that--if he wasn't a junkie. If he didn't just give up and whine. He could have had that too. He could have had me and my babies. He could have made some sort of effort. More than a few half ass visits arranged by Bryan and I, and half the time ruined by his whining/complaining/and general self-pity party.
I gave a little pat to the little girl in me that was is so greatly, sadly disappointed that I also didn't don't have that now. I recognized that I wanted it want it. There is only a small persistent voice that used to scream how badly I wanted my Daddy to be someone he wasn't. To be that daughter's ideal. It's hard to admit that voice still remains in me at all.
I haven't spoken to my father since a month after my brother died.
I wonder, this time of year and from a sick, knot of guilt, if I should do something about it.
And, *head shake* I just don't want to think about any of this.
Those men of my life are one sad tangle in my being.
A second sigh.
This fugue will pass. I'll beat my melancholy back. But all sadness has it's moment. It needs a moment on center stage. It needs a bit of applause. Even though I hate feeling like the world is suddenly an anvil on my back--I can't always be merry this month.
I have so much to be thankful for and so much joy. So much, I feel unworthy of it.
Maybe I need to pick this book up again!
This is one of those last minute posts where I'm pushing what I meant to write about until Thursday when I will hopefully have more time. Instead, I'm sticking this patched entry together complete with pictures to fill in the gaps.
We've had a busy last couple days here running errands and doing child oriented things. I'm left dazed. When I'm finally back at the house, I'm catching up on chores. I came back from Yoga practice last night to clean dishes. I woke up this morning to laundry to fold from the day before. The only reason I can even write this out now is that I brought in River's tricycle and made him push Sage around the living room. And the only reason he is doing it longer than two seconds is because I am bribing him with gummy snacks.
Sage has entered the princess phase of child development. Not princesses like Snow White. She actually thinks she is one herself. Her baby rage is something to see. She can't share or take turns without fits when it is her brother's turn. She frequently throws things at his head because she knows he won't hurt her back.
Young children are assholes.
Thankfully, most of them grow out of it.
Still, things have gotten a whole lot crazier around here. I have to mediate and sooth and listen to the frequent fits from the one year old.
*
This weekend many of the museums downtown cost of $1/per person for entry. So we took a couple hours and went to the Science Center.
*
We have not gotten a Christmas Tree (unless you count the ragged, fake, foot-tall mini tree we put out) since the year River was born. We are never around for Christmas and I've had real trees all my life. While a plastic tree makes sense, I've never wanted to cough up the money for one this time of year when so much of our resources go towards gifts. This year, I wanted a tree, but I left all my tree gear in Oneonta when we moved. That's even more money to bleed our for Christmas. So I plan to wait till things go on clearance after this holiday and stock up for next year.
But a mom from River's preschool offered us the lend of her fake tree this year. So a tree we have. With no ornaments on the lower branches due to someone. With a cheap tree skirt that is constantly removed and dragged around. This is why a real tree can wait till next year.
We are ever so thankful for the thoughtful lend of this tree to brighten our otherwise Christmas-less home.
Thank you, Jamie and Family for thinking of us!
And now to complete the rest of my day. To feed Sage and fold laundry and play with children and get dinner and bath in early before we travel with friends to see Christmas lights from our car windows.
My life is one big run-on (see above).
It's messy and chaotic and I love it...even with background screaming.
My religion--if it can even be called that--is a patchwork quilt of wisdom, words, experiences, and feelings that I add to as I grow older. I don't have a church, a temple, a particular creed, holy law, book, or list of commandments. It's a feeling in my gut, a moral compass meets insatiable scholar. I know in my core that there are certain rights and wrongs and truths, but I'm always hungry to learn more and add to what I believe and what is important to me.
The answer is, no.
Maybe the question people would like to ask, but don't, is if I believe in God (of the capital "G"). God is so multi-facitated. Different in the old testament and the new, different in different cultures and the many mutated Christian religions. So to ask me if I believe in Him, confuses me. But to ask me generally, "Do I believe in God the father, creator of Heaven and Earth who gave his one begotten son so that we might all live" (did I get that even close to right?) ?
The answer is, no.
Now don't recoil, reel of begin praying for my salvation.
I believe in the divine. A force beyond my ken that connects all living things. I believe in the sacred--a precious something that is bigger than myself.
I believe in a gross generalization, because such a force isn't simply human. It can't be sexed as he, or father, or be attributed to petty acts of revenge and coercion like the biblical god. It just is.
So, take that as you will. Perhaps to you it means I do believe in God and I'm simply nitpicking with a lawyer-like tenacity.
While I don't ascribe to an organized religion, I believe there is wisdom to be learned from formal religions. I believe that many churches, temples, and congregations bring a lot of good to society. I've always felt soothed mentally from all forms of religious gathering or meditative things that I've participated in. From the droning recitations of Catholic mass, to the upbeat Hymnals of the Methodists, the words of the Seder in the Jewish faith, the breathing and poses in Yoga, and the outdoors libations given in the spring during a pagan campfire. I've read the pamphlets the Jehovah's Witnesses have handed to me and I've found wisdom in the Tao Te Ching.
I'm simply too damn stubborn to swallow any creed hook-line-and-sinker and then let their drum dictate the beat of my own life. I can't believe a book written by infallible man, is 100% truth. But I can find knowledge and poetry and beauty within writings that others hold beyond reproach. Still, I am hungry to learn and understand. I want more squares to add to my quilt. I want more wisdom.
And so, I write my own religion. I give praise for the small miracles of my small life. I keep my mind as open to new learning as I possibly can.
I see "God" in my children's faces, in a late fall flower, and in the simple, unnecessary, kind gestures people preform each day because they want to, not because they have to.
A truce, of sorts, for these two mortal enemies.
You would think ten hours traveling south would be unbearable, but my kids are amazing travelers. I've built them up to astounding feats of sitting in cars through frequent trips to New York. I am almost gloating over how very clever I am as a traveling mom. I almost want to say, "Hey parents, that can't bear the thought of going one hour with young children. See this ass? See it? Kiss it! I went ten!" But then again, I used to be that parent sitting in the backseat with my only child, thinking one hour was too much of a hassle and two...torture.
comfy clothes are a must for traveling with children
To plan for ten I knew we needed to leave after lunch with an entire morning to slowly get ready and wear the children out in the sunshine. Well fed and well played, Sage went to sleep right away and got in close to two hours comatose in her car seat. I made doable, easy goals for us. 1/4 of the way (2 1/2 hours) before our first stop, perferably at a Starbucks for lattes, sweets and the bathroom. We did it. Starbucks is a great stop. Large bathrooms, things we all can enjoy and outdoor seating for children to wander. We didn't rush back into the car, but once in we planned to get 1/2 way (another 2 1/2 hours in) and then stop for dinner.
For the entire trip I pack easy snacks in separate containers. Things Jason could hand to Sage or River with little effort while I drove. When I go solo parenting, it is even more essential that things are neat and organized so I can blindly reach, grab, and stretch. Everyone gets their own cup of water within reach. I also pack a container of toys for Sage and a bag of books for River. For the next quarter of the trip, the toys were essential.
At dinner we, once again, take our time. I have a easy to reach bag with things to wash up the kids and change them into their pajamas. The only complaint was the worse possible service we had at this Virginia Denny's. It took forever to get our food and when we did, there was no silverware and we had to wait a long time to get that. The check was slapped down on the table without a single question. Like, "Would you like dessert?" or "How was everything?" In a ten hour trip, I'll take that. There could have been vomit or screaming, after all.
For the last half of the trip, Jason took over. I fell asleep for the 3rd quarter of the travel--as did the kids and then I always wake up for the last bit. Once again, the lone bag was essential. It is the only bag that needed to be brought in upon out midnight arrival. We transferred both kids to bed without waking them, got washed up and went to sleep in Georgia.
You might ask, why not drive all night? Well, my children do not sleep well in the car. Both of them fussed and semi-woke a few times over that five hour night driving block. I also don't sleep well and Jason would not sleep at all. At least we all got part of a night in a bed!
*
Georgia was the warmest I have felt it. One day it hit 81. I spent a lot of time walking solo, once I walked the dog, once we went for a family walk. I watched Sage wander about outside quite a bit. I saw a little lizard make a flying leap and try to eat a butterfly. I guess it didn't taste good. He let it go. Georgia always smells like pine needles. It always looks a bit overgrown. Every time we go south I think, "What is with all the freak'in Waffle Houses?!" I have yet to eat in one.
*
Sage wanted to live in the dog's crate. She was very upset when I took her out. Think they would arrest me if I got her one for Xmas?
This dog is one of the most skittish I have ever met, but he loved Sage. He climbed right back in his crate with her there in the way.
*
I'll be honest. It used to feel a bit weird at my mother-in-laws house. I used to be very conscious of being the short-white-girl. Now I'm just part of the mix--the palest part, but until the children grow up--not the shortest! Now Thanksgiving has new traditions.
This girl could not get enough of the cranberry sauce!
Traditions like collard greens and sweet potatoes pie, corn pudding, and southern sweet tea, grace before eating and the faces of brothers, not my brother (I couldn't help but think) but brothers. Brothers to be Uncles to my children and brothers to tease. Brothers to relate to Jason's flippant comments and sarcasm. While last year I was so conscious of Thanksgiving being the day I last spoke to my brother on the phone and where (in the front room of my mother-in-laws house in a spot of sun gleaming on the hard wood floor) and Jason having a brother present when I didn't, and wanting so badly to be with my mother on this holiday when she had no children around--this year I was thankful for Jason's family and my place in it. I was thankful for his mother, who is always kind and understands the loss of a sibling. I was thankful for Joe, who is the dutiful, oldest son helping his mother and helping my children. I was thankful for Jason's twin Jeremy who is soft spoken and sweet.
*
*
What I am most thankful for is all these people who are still here this year. Last year was a fog of pain. A year without. This year, still without, I can begin to celebrate the life I still have, the people who are still in it and that being without Bryan doesn't mean I have to limit my own joy at being here (or try so desperately to force it) and being with brothers other than him or a mother other than my own. Not just for me but for my children. Their foundations will be built with the help of the many people that love them and are there to catch them if they fall. And I am thankful for Jason, who is lucky to have family here with him.
We should be thankful for each person in our life that gives us kindness. We don't know how long we'll have them here. That is the lesson Bryan taught me last Thanksgiving when I had to force out what I was thankful for always thinking of what I wasn't thankful for at all--the hole. The Bryan hole in my chest and with me every waking moment.
It is only this year that I am strong enough to act on the knowledge I've gained.
To be thankful and really mean it.
