happy thanksgiving

Today I am grateful for: sunrises, the ability to make meaning of seemingly random events, personalizing, my family (when I say family I'm referring to my hubby and the little boy), the realization that I have created my own family, really deep restorative sleep, good coffee, brand new days, cold weather, quiet time to myself well spent. I'm grateful for the ability to be thankful and for learning and self reflection, for change - whether political, a changed mind, a new season, a new healthy habit. I'm grateful for my body and its amazing powers to conduct life, to heal, to process and to transform. It's like I live in a miraculous organic transformation machine - put material in and presto, into energy. I see something amiss in my world and I can use that energy to help manifest change. I am grateful for waking up early without an alarm because I've gotten enough sleep. I'm grateful for the ability to help others. I'm grateful for growth, especially my own. I'm grateful for my journey.

blogger throws in the towel after 19 days

After blogging for 19 days straight for NaBloPoMo I dropped the ball. I don't even have a good excuse ... the good news is I have some time to think of one. Now that I'm not feeling the pressure to come up with something every day maybe I can come up with something creative. Probably not though. Maybe next year.

grope and whine thursdays

What's up with children's' songs? Recently I was given a CD of children's' songs...things like Ring Around the Roses and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I love to sing all kinds of songs, mostly children's' songs, to my little one. But I've never been a good singer (despite desperate pleadings to God when I was a child to someday make me a singer/ rock star, I wanted to be able to belt out tunes like Mariah Carey. I even wrote him a letter.) so I've never taken singing very seriously. This seems very fitting and appropriate when singing songs about imaginary lands and little lullaby lulls. So I really struggle to listen to this disc, in which there is a tone of severity and seriousness (maybe it's just the English accents). There's no hint of laughter or silliness. You'd think these guys were singing at an opera or wake. How can someone be serious when singing about covering up the obvious and distasteful effects of the Black Plague to an infant? Maybe I'm reaching at things here, over examining and being critical ...or maybe I can dedicate a Thursday Theme: Grope and Whine Thursdays. I'm going with the latter. What seemingly small insignificant things bug the crap out of you?

an overactive imagination

Wow, I was just looking at the picture I posted yesterday...someday I'll have to learn to photograph my work, well.

So last night the little one was up and fussing because he is forever teething and now has a stuffy nose and gets upset that he can't breath through it. He isn't old enough to learn the trick about lying just so till all the snot runs to one side of your head then breathing out the other nostril. Anyhow he's up, I'm up. And I notice a flashing blue light coming from our family room. Blink, blink, blink then a pause...then blink, blink....pause...blink, blink, blink. What in tarnation? I investigate. It's our Wii. I shut it off. It turns back on. Blink, blink, blink. I can't explain it.

My theory this far: Wii was really created by superbeings from another planet who are fascinated by us. They designed the Wii which only looks and acts like a video game console to us. Really, it's a way of keeping tabs on us and communicating their findings to the mothership. My family must have done something extremely fascinating because that stupid thing was at it all night with the blinking. I just hope you know superbeings that I expect compensation for being in your research project. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, large amounts of wealth would be best.

because two heads are better than one...

The sculpture I finished building the day before the little one was born...and I somehow managed to completely finish it after he was born.

blah blogging

Another day, another blog post...another weekend spent. One thing blogging every day has done; I'm starting to see a pattern with my blogging. On Sundays my blogging is not at it's best. Sunday blogging feels like a chore. I tell you about my weekend...and it's a little lack-luster, not my weekend necessarily but my mood. It's all the rest, good food and crappy television. So here I sit, toothbrush in my mouth, thinking, typing...what did I do this weekend? ... I'm at a loss. I got nothing. Grocery store, laundry...yadda, yadda, yadda. Here's the post for today. At least I can say I blogged. I'll leave you with two thoughts: I am amazed at all the changes and growth I see in the little boy. He's getting so much more interactive! And two, I really want a blog makeover.

when I grow up

Outside of the fact that I am underpaid, I love my job. I mean really. I. love. my. job. I continually find myself grateful. My work is fulfilling. I love my coworkers. My work environment is supportive and caring. Who could ask for more? (outside of being better compensated) This is not going to be an annoying post about how happy I am being in the minority of workers who enjoy what they do. No. You see, despite all of this beautiful, wonderful goodness, I am constantly finding myself daydreaming about what I will be when I grow up. Here's a list:

author
muralist
artist
professor at a university
massage therapist

psychic
midwife
farmer
acupuncturist
owner of a boutique
baker

In my daydream I have this beautiful little artistic healing center that teaches classes, has a fabulous library/ bookstore and sells the best baked goods in this world - on handmade dishes. There's a little coffee nook in the bookstore and all of our mugs are handmade by artists who work in the center. Artists and therapists rent out space in the center. People come to work in their studio or work on their healing process. The center is a buzz with community also. There are regular poetry readings. A beautiful garden. We offer classes in things like meditation, painting, keeping your love relationship vibrant, creative journaling, dance ... you name it! Some classes are tutorial while others are just regular support groups to learn and grow. Since it's my little daydream I am free to jump between all of the different activities that I enjoy all day long. What's your daydream?

new cute little human tricks

The little boy is learning new things everyday it seems. He's learned how to get off of our bed and furniture by first dangling his legs backwards over the edge; opposed to hauling himself head first off the edge like he used to (well, he would try). He's learned to say "e-i-e-i-e-i" in response to me signing the first line, Old McDonald. I continue to encourage him to make the sign for milk when he wants to breastfeed instead of just lifting up my shirt. Sticking with the theme of learning though, he has learned to lift my shirt and sign for milk and that both of these actions get a quick response from mommy. He has also recently learned to give kisses (at least I think this is what he's doing). They are sloppy and always open mouthed and unbearably long and I never know if it will end with him biting my face. Maybe my baby is a cannibal and he just hasn't learned the sign for flesh yet. No, I'm pretty sure he's just trying to kiss me and sometimes gets a little carried away with his sugar coated momma. He's also learned to flirt with strangers and throw food at the dog (who is ever grateful for this trick). He's been doing that for quite sometime. Actually, that may have been his first human trick. What will he learn next?

quick and dirty

We seem to be lice free so far. This entry is going to be a short one...want to get to bed to cuddle with the mister before the little one wakes up. One day he'll sleep through the night. In the mean time I've got to get it in while I can.

heeby-geebies

Someone at my husband's work got head lice from their kiddo...now I'm all itchy.

a mad kitty

I've always known it but been afraid to admit it. I was in denial for a very long time but I'm finally able to own it: becoming a parent has made me a terrible pet owner. I woke this morning to not one but two piles of cat poop; one on the bathroom rug, the other in the little boy's room. There was also the piss on the little boys chair. I'm not sure which of our two felines is responsible but I'm sure our cat is trying to tell me something? If he could speak it might sound something like, "Hey, listen here family. I know you have a lot of new responsibility but do you think you could pay me a little attention?! By the way, no one did bother to ask how I felt about your decision to procreate, I'm against it! Based solely on my experience of you two as caretakers, you're selfish and don't think of others. But go ahead, what do I know. I'm only your cat. Please accept my small symbols of gratitude."

I'm taking all of this way too personally. I did a little research this morning and it probably has more to do with the fact that we put a baby gate in front of the litter box than my cat's unhappiness. At least, that's what I'm banking on. I've found out that once a cat defecates in a place other than his litter box, he is more likely to continue defecating in that spot. So I'm off to buy some magic spray that tells my kitten "you don't need to mark this spot". If this doesn't work I don't know what I'll do. I don't know anyone foolish enough to take two adult indoor cats...anyone but me that is.

little steps in between

Today I lost a bet. Apparently winningest is a real word. Who knew? Well, the mister did. Hence me losing. In other news, I visited my best friend today and her new baby girl. Newborns are so tiny!

This blogging every day is tougher than I thought...I'm running out of ammo. I could write about dinner; pork roast with mashed potatoes or the weather: cold and cloudy. I could get a little more personal and write about how I haven't talked to my mom in over a week and our relationship is feeling weird again. But I won't write about that. Instead, I'll tell you that I'm working to stay grateful for every moment. I'll write about how when I was little I would dream of what my life would be like when I was older and I'm fortunate that I'm living that dream. Okay, I'm not a Hollywood celebrity but the other dream, the one of having a husband who adores me and a quaint little house full of life...that dream it's mine.

Here's the problem with dreaming though, I haven't stopped. I don't know that that is a huge problem but sometimes it keeps me from enjoying what's here right in front of me. I start thinking about how I wish I had something fabulous to share, an outrageous idea, a beautiful project, a great story or adventure and I'm whisked away from all of the beauty that is my life right now. My life - mundane, safe and full of the mess of living. When I stop long enough to really be present and put the dreaming aside for a moment I can experience all of the fullness of it. A belly full from a rich dinner, the mister on the rug (that the cat peed on again) playing with the little boy.

My little boy who is learning to walk gets so much forward momentum his weight teeters him over, his head leading, his little legs can't keep up and he falls onto his hands. I live much of my life this way, thinking, worrying and dreaming of the future, moving too fast forward to appreciate all of the little steps in between now and then. I'm going to work to move slower, appreciate all of the steps and nuance... I bet I'll have more to share then too.

*On a post post note: Blogger's spellcheck does not recognize the word winningest! Hah! ... It apparently doesn't recognize the word Blogger either though...

this weekend

I'm really hurting for something to blog about. It's not interesting but it'll do. My weekend, in a list:

• work on Saturday
• attending a baby shower for my sister-in law
• the birth of my best friends second daughter
• dog sitting
• sleeping in
• breakfast with the mister's parents
• swimming
• more laundry than I can imagine
• yoga
• pigs in a blanket for dinner
• grocery shopping

Yep, that was our weekend. I almost forgot, the little boy is starting to walk without assistance! The fun is just beginning!

difficult is getting easier

I had a difficult day at work and with the cranky child. My husband is wonderful and I am so lucky to have him. The busy baby shower and then in the middle of the shower another baby is born. We are so fortunate to have all of these children that are very healthy in our life. Other than all of that it was a pretty uneventful day. Funny how all of this seems normal now, but I think that I am beginning to get used to everything. It will be nice to have a Sunday to recoup and get ready for our first significant snowstorm.

more on the skinny

So yesterday I wrote about how women rock. And believe me we rock for lots and lots of reasons. Yesterday was primarily looking at our tremendous role in procreation but there are lots of other reasons why we rock (more on that later, maybe a list even). I want to write more about this weight issue. It's been on my mind. Here's the low down.

Recently I've lost some weight. I'm a few pounds lighter than I was before I got pregnant but it's all redistributed so I think I look like I weigh considerably less. At least that's what everyone keeps telling me, and telling me and telling me. And by everyone I mean all of the women in my life. The men, remarkably either don't notice, don't care or are afraid to mention it.

Here's my weight loss secret: I had a baby and I breastfeed. I don't have time to sit down and eat the way I used to and most of the time I wish that I did. That's it. Really. Oh and I walk but again that's mostly because the little boy enjoys it. Did I also mention that he weighs about 30 pounds and loves to be carried? And really, that is all.

I haven't tried to lose weight. I loved the way I looked before I got pregnant. Mostly. I mean, it's really always been a struggle. I've always been ... not small. I've been referred to as sturdy, comfy, fluffy, voluptuous. And I had good days and bad days but mostly I loved my body. And now, I am so way over it.

Today, I love my body and not because it lost weight without me trying (because now I'm between pant sizes and had to buy a whole new wardrobe). I love my body because it is incredible. I mean really incredible. There is so much more to me and my body than the weight it does or doesn't carry. Here are some examples. My body rocks because:

-it will withhold getting sick if I'm in the middle of transition and wait until I'm in a place to be able to get sick

-I heal really quickly

-I, just me and the miracle of my being nourish and feed another human being ... and that other human being thrives! 30 pounds!

- my body has signals and lets me know when I am taking on or doing too much or more than what is healthy for me

- my body doesn't judge me if I continue to push myself past a point of health ... in fact it adapts!

- my body holds all of my organs perfectly, allows me to sometimes abuse them or treat them poorly and goes on to process and continue to allow me to thrive

I could go on and on and start talking about the processes of the body and the relationship between my mind and body (that I mostly ignore but is there as my resource anyway). People, women...we are so much more than our weight! Health and beauty are about so much more than a number that is meant to fluctuate and change as we do.

I believe

Yesterday I wrote about the birth of my little boy. I feel so fortunate that we are all safe and healthy and that my pregnancy and his birth were both empowering experiences for me. Unfortunately for the mister, they were a bit more gory and traumatic. I've never been squeamish but especially after the birth of our son, I was left feeling strong and brave.

I can remember being a youngster thinking about and being terrified of what I saw as the inevitable pregnancy and labor experience. It felt so unfair that my fate as a woman meant that I would some day have to first carry another human being in my body and second push it out of a very small orifice. Fortunately time seemed to have pacify some of my fears. Also, when I became pregnant I surrounded myself with women who knew and believed in what my body was capable of, even when I didn't. I was able to express my fears to my midwife and her assistants and over and over again they assured me, "your body knows how to birth a baby" and "your body was created in way to allow this to happen naturally" After I heard it enough I started to believe them. Also, I may have felt some pressure to grasp at something reassuring as my body continued to expanded to a point of ridiculousness. Hear me out here, I think pregos are absolutely gorgeous! But they are also preposterous looking. This may be why I find them so beautiful...I also have a soft spot and find beauty in handicapped animals, obese pets and diseased trees (I know that's weird).

Anyhoo, here are some things I wanted to share. These are things that I have come to believe since taking part in the incredible procreation journey:

- women's bodies are amazing*
- pain is release (or at least, it can be)
- women are natural warriors
- birthing has the potential to be an empowering experience

Telling our birth stories can be healing and empowering. I know that we are not all blessed with amazing experiences of birthing. Sometimes women feel disempowered through their labor, they may feel scared or helpless. Sometimes things go wrong, sometimes we blame ourselves taking responsibility for things that were out of our control. I believe that regardless of our story, telling it in a safe environment can help us to make better sense of it and through sharing we can learn about ourselves, our surroundings and our journeys. Telling our stories to others can be healing and empowering. I encourage you to tell me your birth story! Leave a link in the comments!

the birth story

This is a long one.

A year ago in my journal I wrote:

I don't even know where to start. I have a one week old baby boy and he is beautiful and my life is completely upside down. He came a month early. Actually, he came right on time and we were all a month behind. It was a beautiful birth.

My water started leaking at 4 in the morning. I had gotten up to go pee and found that I would dribble every time I got up. I thought that the baby had moved into a funny position rendering me incontinent. It started to dawn on me that I might be in labor. I woke up the mister, he said "no way, it's too early, go back to bed". So I did. But I was still worried. I waited for a decent hour to come and then called the midwife. 8:00.

The midwife said it sounded like I was in labor. She helped put my mind at ease. She was calming and reassuring. She said the baby had been consistently measuring over in our prenatal visits. He could come now. So I got off the phone with her and started having contractions.

Well, first I had to tell the mister I really was in labor. He still didn't believe me. "Do you really think I should take off of work?" he asked. I was pretty sure and I knew if he stayed home, regardless of the outcome, he'd cook me breakfast. My best friend called I told her the news. She didn't believe it either.

Eggs, hash browns and bacon. It smelled delicious although I didn't eat a whole lot of it. The midwife came over at noon and I asked for a pelvic exam to see how far dilated it was. (I only had one pelvic exam my whole pregnancy and this was it...I was so happy). 3 centimeters, contractions 10 minuets apart. She said she'd come over at 5 but I should call her if things changed. I remember thinking, I hope things change way before then. I called her at 3 that afternoon. My contractions were 5 minuets apart now.

The midwife showed up with her assistant. I was sitting outside of our bathroom wrapped in a blanket. I had the chills and then a contraction would come and the blanket would come off. Unbearable heat flash...back to the chills. The midwife and her assistant sat at the kitchen table and did paper work. I felt that everything must be pretty normal if they're doing paperwork. I'll just keep having contractions on the floor. I moved around a lot trying to find a place to get comfortable. The hallway...nope. The couch...nah. The floor. It turns out there's no comfortable place when you're in labor. Then my clothes started to feel uncomfortable. I knew this meant I was progressing through labor. I don't know how I knew this I just did. At the point I stop caring who I'm naked in front of, the closer I am to having this baby. The shirt came off and I settled on the floor next to the couch for awhile. Apparently, the midwife thought also that I was progressing because she stopped doing her paperwork at the table.

I harfed up breakfast and got back to work moving around the house as best I could to find a comfy spot. The midwife and her assistant followed me with their blue surgical pads meant to catch the birth goo and protect our wood floors. I didn't care about the wood floors. I was looking for the magical spot to birth our son. We tried the birth chair and the toilet, the couch again and the floor. I ended up in the hallway just before 7pm in the birth chair singing like a beluga whale. I was sitting right below our doorbell chimes and every time I would howl in labor I could hear them vibrate. That's where our little boy was born. The mister caught him and held him as he took his first breath of air. After his head passed there was a gush of fluid and life and out he came. Right into the mister's hands. We all waddled over to the couch and I lay with our new baby and the mister. There we rested in stardust and applesauce. Our new family. I birthed the placenta. The midwifes cleaned everything up and feed us turkey, cheese and apple slices. They tucked us all into bed together and sang the little one a welcome to this world song. It really was beautiful. 7 pounds 12 ounces. A beautiful baby boy.

There you have it our birth story.

whew

Thank goodness that is over! It was a rough go of it the last two days. Let me tell you something, when I am sick and the mister is sick too, with a teething sick baby...it is not pretty. Those kinds of conditions bring the whiner out in me and not the pathetic whiner, the mean one. I actually called my husband a name under my breath yesterday. I haven't done something like that since I was in middle school. Well, if you don't count driving. I'm happy to be back up and running. Maybe now I can get some laundry done.

day 3

This was not what I had in mind when I signed up for NaBloPoMo. The little boy is doing just fine. Now it's me and the mister. Hopefully I'll resurface soon.

determination

literally covered in baby's vomit...too many times to count. poor little guy. I have a feeling I'm in for a long night. But I wasn't about to give up on Day 2.

a birthday party

I'm sure it's reveals something when today, we were preparing for the little one's first birthday party and I kept wondering when can I open the wine? It wasn't that I needed a drink to take the edge off or relax (yes, I'm pretty sure I do sound like an alcoholic)...although some of my family was there and they do have a tendency to get on my nerves. It was simply that we were having a party. And isn't that what adults do at parties? What was the last party I was at where alcohol wasn't involved? Okay, company holiday party. But when was the last party I hosted and didn't have alcohol? I'd have to stretch years back even before I was able to buy alcohol legally. It is almost as unfathomable as having a party without food (although I'm sure I've been to plenty during my college years). So I showed some restraint and waited until half way through. And yes, wine couples well with cupcakes. And my relatives.

So there you have it. For some reason this whole conundrum makes me feel more adult. Questioning the appropriateness of alcohol; when and where, having a one year old, throwing birthday parties for kiddos.

I'm starting to wonder if as the kids get older alcohol becomes more inappropriate...probably. For parties involving other parents and other kids I guess the wine waits until after the guests leave...I may have to hold separate parties then; one for the little boy's friends, where I show restraint and wait to pop the cork until after everyone is gone and another party for my family where there is little restraint and Momma can drink her wine with her piece of cake.

Family. Everyone has one. I'm grateful that as I have grown I have been able to choose my own family. I have also been able to more broadly define the word to include long time supportive friends. Friends that I often feel closer to than my relatives. That's a post for another day. For now, it's enough to say that the little boy's first birthday party was a success and momma got by with a little help from her friends. And her wine.