So, it turns out that Jaya is still sensitive to dairy.
I ventured into the world of milk-based products this weekend (oh, cheese, how I have missed you) and was last night roundly thumped for it by two tiny yet persistently gassy feet. And today's bedtime was about an hour and half delayed by an upset tummy and a subsequently squirmy kid. I am still optimistic about a relatively smooth night ahead, but with little foundation in reality. Yet more proof that parenthood can be defined as leaving behind the joys of one's adulthood for less predictable (and sometimes less tasty) wanderings.
As I was writing this, Jaya woke for his regular 1 hour post-bedtime fuss and when I went in to settle him, Kelsey, who is sleeping beside him said, "he just had a giant fart", and I said, "oh good, well done!". Yes, these are indeed strange times...
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
A long deep breath
First off, I can't figure out how to respond to comments people make to postings, so let me just say, thanks to those of you who have commented, and especially thanks to sara t. for reminding me to get back to it.
My excuse, predictably enough, is lack of sleep. Jaya was on a strict schedule of staying up later and later, culminating in a 1:30 am bedtime that put the kibosh (is that how you spell that?) on my "after bedtime me-time". We have now, and actually, with surprising ease, found a bedtime rhythm that seems to work for all of us. Of course, now that I have committed my pleasure with this rhythm to writing, it will change. But for tonight, we still have an 8pm bedtime that allows me and us a little bit of time for being adults. Which means it's time to get back to writing.
Inspired by some great writing ("Away We Go" is hilarious and you should see it if you haven't, also "Middlesex" is a great story and you should read it if you haven't), the fact that this month is Novel Writing Month (during which writers attempt to write a novel in a month...which I am not doing, by the way, and you probably shouldn't either), and an old english teacher of mine who used to make us write 250 word stories using ten obscure words (thanks Ms. Bevis), I am going to commit to writing 100 words a day. I'll share them here, I'll write more if I have time, and I won't worry too much about what words they are. But there will be at least 100 of them every day, at least until the next unscheduled interruption...starting tomorrow...
My excuse, predictably enough, is lack of sleep. Jaya was on a strict schedule of staying up later and later, culminating in a 1:30 am bedtime that put the kibosh (is that how you spell that?) on my "after bedtime me-time". We have now, and actually, with surprising ease, found a bedtime rhythm that seems to work for all of us. Of course, now that I have committed my pleasure with this rhythm to writing, it will change. But for tonight, we still have an 8pm bedtime that allows me and us a little bit of time for being adults. Which means it's time to get back to writing.
Inspired by some great writing ("Away We Go" is hilarious and you should see it if you haven't, also "Middlesex" is a great story and you should read it if you haven't), the fact that this month is Novel Writing Month (during which writers attempt to write a novel in a month...which I am not doing, by the way, and you probably shouldn't either), and an old english teacher of mine who used to make us write 250 word stories using ten obscure words (thanks Ms. Bevis), I am going to commit to writing 100 words a day. I'll share them here, I'll write more if I have time, and I won't worry too much about what words they are. But there will be at least 100 of them every day, at least until the next unscheduled interruption...starting tomorrow...
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Reflections in the bathroom mirror, Part II
Upon further reflection (and conversation with others), I realize there's at least one element to my last musings that I missed. And that's the idea of the village.
We always talk about the power of the village in raising a healthy child (and really, supporting a healthy human being of any age). And now, rereading my last post, I notice even more how much that matters. I do think it's impossible to really understand the experience of parenting from inside without being, well, inside. But I think the "culture shock" is probably considerably less for those who have grown up within a culture of shared familial roles. It's strange to say, because I feel like I've had access to a wonderful and supportive community of people of all different ages throughout my life. But I'm more conscious now of the even greater empathetic value of more "traditional" community relationships built around raising a child as a member of a group - not just the product of two parents. Without romanticizing the demands and sacrifices of those who share the parenting role out of necessity (in defense against poverty, disease, misappropriated resources, etc), I think something vital is being lost in the more "modern" model of the "family unit". This is all sounding very academic, but it's the words, not the idea, that's bookish.
Yesterday morning, I was sitting in bed with Jaya, playing and laughing with him. It was fun, but it was also a little lonely, and I thought about how much less lonely it would be to spend my mornings in a circle of women, all playing with their babies and talking with each other too. I don't know where this thinking will lead me, and I don't think there's a radical commune in my future, but I feel like it's as good a time as any to imagine other realities...
We always talk about the power of the village in raising a healthy child (and really, supporting a healthy human being of any age). And now, rereading my last post, I notice even more how much that matters. I do think it's impossible to really understand the experience of parenting from inside without being, well, inside. But I think the "culture shock" is probably considerably less for those who have grown up within a culture of shared familial roles. It's strange to say, because I feel like I've had access to a wonderful and supportive community of people of all different ages throughout my life. But I'm more conscious now of the even greater empathetic value of more "traditional" community relationships built around raising a child as a member of a group - not just the product of two parents. Without romanticizing the demands and sacrifices of those who share the parenting role out of necessity (in defense against poverty, disease, misappropriated resources, etc), I think something vital is being lost in the more "modern" model of the "family unit". This is all sounding very academic, but it's the words, not the idea, that's bookish.
Yesterday morning, I was sitting in bed with Jaya, playing and laughing with him. It was fun, but it was also a little lonely, and I thought about how much less lonely it would be to spend my mornings in a circle of women, all playing with their babies and talking with each other too. I don't know where this thinking will lead me, and I don't think there's a radical commune in my future, but I feel like it's as good a time as any to imagine other realities...
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Reflections in the bathroom mirror
I was in the shower this evening - my first in four days - and I was thinking, as I do so often these days, about the profound changes that parenthood has brought upon me. Case in point, it was my first shower in four days.
And, as always when I start thinking about this sort of thing, I paused to wonder at how, at any given moment, there are women becoming mothers all over the world. And, as always when I start thinking about this sort of thing, I thought about how completely baffling it all is. How is it that women all over the world, all the time, are going through this profound life change and I, a reasonably well read, well traveled, well connected woman, within a strong community of women, am so unfamiliar with this experience that is, while somewhat unique, entirely common? Put another way, how did I not know this is what it would feel like? How have I been walking around my whole life, smiling at mothers in the street with their cute kids, having dinner at friends' houses while their cute kids run around screaming, even babysitting small cute cousins, without seeing or at least sensing the complete and total transformation their adults are undergoing. The oblivion I was in was so immense. And so lovely.
I suppose I realize there's no way for us to really know an experience like this until we're in it. And perhaps, as in the case of childbirth itself, that's all for the best. But I continue to be in awe of the company I keep - the women who have come here before me, and those who are still to plunge - of our insane courage on the shores of own vast ignorance and our blind faith in the joy that lies, indeed, just beneath the surface of these mad waters.
And, as always when I start thinking about this sort of thing, I paused to wonder at how, at any given moment, there are women becoming mothers all over the world. And, as always when I start thinking about this sort of thing, I thought about how completely baffling it all is. How is it that women all over the world, all the time, are going through this profound life change and I, a reasonably well read, well traveled, well connected woman, within a strong community of women, am so unfamiliar with this experience that is, while somewhat unique, entirely common? Put another way, how did I not know this is what it would feel like? How have I been walking around my whole life, smiling at mothers in the street with their cute kids, having dinner at friends' houses while their cute kids run around screaming, even babysitting small cute cousins, without seeing or at least sensing the complete and total transformation their adults are undergoing. The oblivion I was in was so immense. And so lovely.
I suppose I realize there's no way for us to really know an experience like this until we're in it. And perhaps, as in the case of childbirth itself, that's all for the best. But I continue to be in awe of the company I keep - the women who have come here before me, and those who are still to plunge - of our insane courage on the shores of own vast ignorance and our blind faith in the joy that lies, indeed, just beneath the surface of these mad waters.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Phew!
It's been awhile and I feel like the days have been very full. Activities, projects, errands, and the like. I've also had a couple of thought-provoking moments over the last week and they are continuing to give me pause, so I thought I'd write about one of them tonight.
This is the realization that I have not yet actually accepted responsibility for my "new job". While one hand is holding Jaya and changing Jaya and feeding Jaya, etc., the other hand is still checking email, building shelves, keeping up with the news of the day. While none of these things is inherently wrong - and I have lots to say about trying to find the balance between "him" and "me" - I have realized this week that I'm simply not parenting in the present. And I don't like how that feels. I realize that as much as I have felt overwhelmed by this new role I have to play, I need to step into it even more fully if it's really going to work. For me, I think that means less emailing, (even) less cleaning, and less keeping up the daily tasks I think I should be doing, and more playing, chatting and laughing with my baby. More, let's be honest, sitting around talking nonsense.
This is much harder for me that I expected it would be. I feel like I am bursting at the seams with projects I want to get to and it's incredibly difficult to step back from those, both real and potential, and still feel "useful". I am trying to trust that I will be able to get back to them, to me, in time. But I am more and more certain that I need to let them go first.
So the lesson is to believe for myself what I would tell any other new mum. That motherhood is valuable. That days spent endlessly feeding and changing and gurgling and imitating and talking in a small high pitched voice, are not just days gone. They are investments, like a really good day at school or at work, in my child's brain, in my relationship with him, in my own self-knowledge. I'm even being paid for this, because Canadians believe this job has worth. And so it's time to take responsibility, to show up for work with energy and enthusiasm, and to trust all those wonderful projects will be waiting for me when I, when we, are ready.
This is the realization that I have not yet actually accepted responsibility for my "new job". While one hand is holding Jaya and changing Jaya and feeding Jaya, etc., the other hand is still checking email, building shelves, keeping up with the news of the day. While none of these things is inherently wrong - and I have lots to say about trying to find the balance between "him" and "me" - I have realized this week that I'm simply not parenting in the present. And I don't like how that feels. I realize that as much as I have felt overwhelmed by this new role I have to play, I need to step into it even more fully if it's really going to work. For me, I think that means less emailing, (even) less cleaning, and less keeping up the daily tasks I think I should be doing, and more playing, chatting and laughing with my baby. More, let's be honest, sitting around talking nonsense.
This is much harder for me that I expected it would be. I feel like I am bursting at the seams with projects I want to get to and it's incredibly difficult to step back from those, both real and potential, and still feel "useful". I am trying to trust that I will be able to get back to them, to me, in time. But I am more and more certain that I need to let them go first.
So the lesson is to believe for myself what I would tell any other new mum. That motherhood is valuable. That days spent endlessly feeding and changing and gurgling and imitating and talking in a small high pitched voice, are not just days gone. They are investments, like a really good day at school or at work, in my child's brain, in my relationship with him, in my own self-knowledge. I'm even being paid for this, because Canadians believe this job has worth. And so it's time to take responsibility, to show up for work with energy and enthusiasm, and to trust all those wonderful projects will be waiting for me when I, when we, are ready.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Growing Goodness
It's late, but I'm determined to write something. I've been working on a little multimedia presentation for the Farmer's Market Nutrition Coupon project that I've been helping to evaluate for the last couple of years. I took it on to help out and now it's midnight and I've just barely made a dent. But still, it's fun to get to do something other than mum. I'll post a link to the "story" when it's done. Until then, let me just say that small children discovering fresh fruit are very cute.
Goodnight.
Goodnight.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Cherry Watches Her First Operation, Move 2 Squares
This weekend I bought:
- a few yards of fake leather
- a long roll of "fabric" that is dark blue vinyl on one side and royal blue fuzz on the other
- a "Nurse Cherry Ames" board game from the 50's
- three old glass bottles
- a foot long toy greyhound bus with all its paint
- a melodihorn that mostly works
- a vintage black bakelite plastic viewmaster with personal photos of someone's trip to Hawaii in the 50's
I'm determined to make something this week. Hopefully involving felt. Will report back...
Friday, September 18, 2009
I was walking with Jaya and the dogs this morning and a woman across the street called out to me "I love your family". It was a odd moment, but also very sweet. What a nice thing to think and to share with someone when you're walking down the street in the morning.
Later this morning, a friend pointed out how, when you're out with a baby, you don't get to be anonymous. It's true - and a wonderful way to engage with people - but it makes me think about all the times we are anonymous in the city. I often think, when I see someone struggling in their minds or bodies on the street, about how once they were someone's baby and people looked at them and thought they were cute or sweet or something nice. And now, we walk past them. And I think about what happens in people's lives that takes them from one place to the other. And, of course, I think about my baby and what will happen to him and what he will become. I know we're giving him gifts that very few people get - having to do with love but also having to do with wealth and circumstances we can take no credit for - and I know that accounts for a great deal. But there is also luck and choice and life that intervenes. So tonight I am thinking about blessings and hoping for a few for Jaya, and all the other babies who are sleeping and waking tonight.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Just a few words
Heard a piece on CBC today about the Disappeared in Argentina. The man being interviewed, a journalist who was working there at the time and who was one of the few people reporting on what was happening, talked about how he felt it was the media's responsibility to report on what is happening around them, no matter how difficult. He said he felt that, in Argentina, even though people could see what was happening right in front of them...neighbours going missing, men with machine guns walking down the street and abducting people in broad daylight...they could pretend it wasn't happening because no one was talking about it.
Imagine. You might be standing beside someone who is suddenly taken and you might say to the person across from you, "hey, did you see that!", and they say, out of fear and disbelief perhaps, "no, I don't know what you're talking about", and you think, oh, okay, maybe I didn't either, or maybe it doesn't matter, because if you didn't you'd have to do something about it and since no one else is doing anything about it, maybe you don't have to either.
I think that's a fascinating perspective on human being-ness that's worth thinking about.
I haven't forgotten I wanted to share some projects, but it's going to have to wait until I'm less about to fall asleep. In the meantime, here's a "before" shot...
Imagine. You might be standing beside someone who is suddenly taken and you might say to the person across from you, "hey, did you see that!", and they say, out of fear and disbelief perhaps, "no, I don't know what you're talking about", and you think, oh, okay, maybe I didn't either, or maybe it doesn't matter, because if you didn't you'd have to do something about it and since no one else is doing anything about it, maybe you don't have to either.
I think that's a fascinating perspective on human being-ness that's worth thinking about.
I haven't forgotten I wanted to share some projects, but it's going to have to wait until I'm less about to fall asleep. In the meantime, here's a "before" shot...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Today I vaccumed
And this evening I am working on knowing that that is enough.
It's easy to say to a new mum, "sleep when the baby sleeps" and "don't worry about housework" - I'm quite sure I'll say it to the next new mum I meet - but the reality...the baby only sleeps when you're out and not worrying about the housework leads to depression and tumbleweed sized fur balls that will kill you as soon as look at you...renders this well meaning advice, well, meaningless.
And yes, Jaya is (finally) sleeping and so yes, I should be sleeping too, but a few minutes at the end of the day has become my saving grace. Instead, I am sitting here looking at my relatively fur free floor, sipping a bit of wine, and reminding myself that this is the most important job I've ever done. If a few other things, like dishes or thank you cards (sorry every friend we ever had), get neglected while I try to figure it out, then so be it.
I think the advice I should really give to the next new mum I meet is this: Forget about a room of your own. Even if you have one, forget about sleeping in it, keeping it clean or even getting in the door most days. But make sure you find a little bit of time of your own. Twenty minutes will do, but an hour is better. Every day. It's important. And if you have a little time left over you can choose between sleeping and cleaning. Both are good.
Tomorrow, I think, I will start sharing some of the projects we're working on...there's one involving drawers and coat hangers that I'm very excited about. And maybe talking about it will help get it done. I can always dream...
It's easy to say to a new mum, "sleep when the baby sleeps" and "don't worry about housework" - I'm quite sure I'll say it to the next new mum I meet - but the reality...the baby only sleeps when you're out and not worrying about the housework leads to depression and tumbleweed sized fur balls that will kill you as soon as look at you...renders this well meaning advice, well, meaningless.
And yes, Jaya is (finally) sleeping and so yes, I should be sleeping too, but a few minutes at the end of the day has become my saving grace. Instead, I am sitting here looking at my relatively fur free floor, sipping a bit of wine, and reminding myself that this is the most important job I've ever done. If a few other things, like dishes or thank you cards (sorry every friend we ever had), get neglected while I try to figure it out, then so be it.
I think the advice I should really give to the next new mum I meet is this: Forget about a room of your own. Even if you have one, forget about sleeping in it, keeping it clean or even getting in the door most days. But make sure you find a little bit of time of your own. Twenty minutes will do, but an hour is better. Every day. It's important. And if you have a little time left over you can choose between sleeping and cleaning. Both are good.
Tomorrow, I think, I will start sharing some of the projects we're working on...there's one involving drawers and coat hangers that I'm very excited about. And maybe talking about it will help get it done. I can always dream...
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