The flutterings of a mother, who is also a sometimes writer

I AM a writer. That's what you are supposed to do to be successful. Wish it into being by repeating words. Ad nauseum. Until they become your reality.

The truth is, I am a writer. Sort of. On somedays. Between the afore mentioned puking, the majority of it not mine. I get to be a writer between little people screaming for attention or little people locking eyes and capturing me for many moments, assuming I didn't fall asleep.  I am a writer when the napping gods choose to smile on my semblance of a schedule and bless us with long and peaceful slumber. I am a writer when dinner got made or when everyone has gotten out the door and to the place that they are supposed to be. On days when there has been minimum yelling, which are a rare and precious-not-for-sale-commodity, I am a writer. On days when there is yelling, I retreat into my snail shell and don't really want to venture out anywhere. I have nothing to offer for review or critique or even, most unfortunately, for my own record. On those days it feels impossible to make lasting changes.

Is the climate still changing? Did we really just finish another election cycle? Did YOUR child have more good than bad in their day? It is hard to think about the big picture and life outside of our little life. It is hard to remember just how many have survived these early stages or that some few have even thrived. When my brain is so jumbled and tired my thoughts feel like I must force them through a cheese cloth and my head feels so noisy and clang-ity from all the demands of being a full time mother, I know I have had to give my all and it has had to go to someone else. To four someone else's actually. And sometimes this mama is just too battered from outbursts and toddlers assaults, and big kid acerbic tones, and middle kid explosions that I just have nothing to say. Or I have plenty to say, but I am just too tired to say it. It has certainly not been a season when I could do it all.  (Perhaps that was your unstated and secret reality too. The one that we hold in so suavely, while our faces are turning purple). But I never expected it to be a season when I could do so very little.

And, also, so very much. While some of my personal and professional goals have taken a backseat, I try to remind myself that in choosing to be full-time mom and teacher I have also accomplished the tasks of principal, curriculum committee, librarian, janitor, busdriver, artist, after-school care, nurse, gardener, computer teacher, and cafeteria lady (no mystery meat here!). And now, in an interesting supplemental employment addition, I am book mobile.

But there are also gifts I have been able to give myself. More time to rest or at least to succumb, occasionally serenely and with less guilt, to the demands of parenting.  The gift of being the one to hold each child no matter how they are feeling and be the one who is there to catch those sighs of sweet release. The gift of time to sit and watch the hawk shivering all morning in my peach tree. The gifts of watching the garden change: my kids harvesting a potato or picking a pepper, a tree exuding a spectrum of colors so beautiful I just want to lay down beneath it. And I can. And likewise my children have given me countless gifts. A large one being gift of remembrance. Remembering that things like bugs and seed pods and puddles and paint are worthy of our attention and vast in their mystery. The magic of watching my child learn to read. Or knowing they can cook their own snack. Or siblings reading to each other. I get to catch creativity in action and sometimes be invited in to the play. I've also gotten to spend many hours reading and reflecting while nursing and, at least in my head, solving world problems. But really back to my little world; I’m glad I’ve gotten to the be the one who gets to show you, my darlings, the butterflies.

Cris, the first time he noticed a butterfly

To add to a beautiful poem, The Butterfly Jar, by Jeff Moss:
       
We had a jar with a butterfly.
We opened the lid and it flew to the sky.
And there are things inside my head
Waiting to be thought or said;
Dreams and jokes and wonderings are
Locked inside, like a butterfly jar.
But then, [when I can write what I see]
I open the lid and set them free.


Take heart. No matter what your parenthood journey looks like, even if the many things that you are, must be delegated to sometimes things, they are still fluttering around in there, somewhere. And, someday, alighting. 

Happy birthday to my maniac man on the move!

Dear Cris,

What an important year it has been! You my dear are learning so many things like how to unlock the secrets of letters and to have big aspirations, such as being a practicing ninja when you are 100. On your first day of kindergarten your biggest aspiration was to learn to be a spy. I have no doubt that you could have physically done it, you would have already engineered a pathway to the moon.

You have left the shadow of babyhood behind and now stand straight like a knocked bow string. You can still curl yourself into my lap, barely, but mostly I spend time looking at the back of your head as you dash to complete your next brilliant idea. You push ahead past naysayers, dream droppers, and road blockers, and sometimes even advice givers. Sometimes, sadly, even when that well wisher is me.

You take the world at full throttle and are utterly captivated by it. And you create curious and marvelous things- a periscope out of a rain gutter that stretches in a tree over our back fence (and thankfully wasn't quite long enough to reach the power lines above), custom holsters, trap doors, booby traps, propellers, catapults, bridges.

You have spunk, in abundance, and frequently lead the dance raves or the party, test your boundaries, and, completely shocking to me, even occasionally moon me. Your favorite things are bold and brassy, so it was completely fitting when you begged to join band this year to play trumpet. You were completely undaunted at being the youngest student that has ever been in the program. Yet you had to learn some valuable lessons about the power of persistence, team work, and humility. Keep coming back to those.

I hope you will continue to be undaunted by learning or paradigms of knowledge and know that it is awesome to keep learning about cosmology, and meteorology, and Gaelic, and knighthood- right now- because they are interesting to you and because only through our questions can we unlock the world.

I hope that you will let this world keep spinning you around and never ask to get off until the ride has come to a complete stop.

I hope that you will remember just how much love you have to give out from that very big, all be it, very crazy, heart of yours.

We love you so much.
X-O-X-O

Mom

A Weekend in Wichita

Two weekends ago while the daddies had to work, the mommies got to play. Thank you dears! We missed you, but had a truly delightful time. We met my best friend in Wichita. It was four kids, one hotel room, a whole lot of socks, immeasurable peanut butter, and a lot of great adventures. Wichita is really great, I am always surprised by just how much there is to do there. It has big city feel and small town charm.

We started out on day one at the zoo. We were told it was spring break but it was blissfully quiet and we probably passed less than 100 people the whole day. It was moderately cold, so I guess that helped. Here the littlest "whos" chased ducks, kissed goats, and looked for peacocks. Connor was bold enough, and cute enough, that when he asked if he could help the zookeeper feed the the barn animals he willingly said yes. It was pretty funny watching him try to throw alfalfa chunks that were nearly as tall as he was. There was lots of rock climbing, lion watching, Masi imitating. One particularly obtuse goose frolicked in the grass in the lion's cage and we were hopeful that the lioness would have five minutes of wildness coupled with delicious dinner, but, alas, her partner was too uninterested and her instincts too domesticated.

 

There were nights of star lights on the ceiling (which apparently is the most revolutionary toy ever if you didn't know) and mornings of little girls in snuggly jammies and pig tails. There was bed bouncing, naps (thank heavens!) and new Dr. Seuss.  There was hand holding and lots of laughing.

We loved driving down Douglas street and looking at all the charming statues. The day it was raining, some funny person had adorned the barefoot man statue reading a newspaper with some rain boots; which amusingly later disappeared. Exploration place gets our whole hearted endorsement as one fantastic kids museum. Here the girls saw mascots for the first time and Cali was both enthralled and completely apprehensive. She chased Scooby all over the museum, but wasn't quite sure if she should shake his hand; all the kids had fun playing tag and hide and seek with him.

At this museum there is a rather elaborate vertical medieval castle maze. It had been updated since the last time that we were there and there was now a catapult. Cris was the king and a random kid adorably told us he was Lancelot. Here they made potions, rode horses, started a garden, and practiced their welding. What great fun!

Finally we kept up our tradition of eating crepes together at a tiny warm place called Lotus Leaf Creperie. We were wrangling our children most of the meal, which made me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for the couple next to us who appeared to be on a first date, but I got over it.

On our last day, we were astonished when 1-3 inches of predicted snow turned out to be closer to 6! One final fun snow before spring decides to stick around. Pretty to look at, a little harder to play in since we had forgotten our snow boots and mittens (boo!) and Connor was crying from cold feet. A few lessons in broadening our horizons with some unusual people, and a day that went completely differently than planned, especially because nothing is open in Wichita before noon, but an enlightening and beautiful day none-the-less.

It was a weekend when we got to unplug and fully answer the sweet call of "mommy play with me" and we can't wait to do it again!

Greetings from planet Kutcha Kutcha!

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A number of months back, Cris told me that at night he never sleeps but that some aliens from planet Kutcha Kutcha come and get him every night and he goes with them. Oh yeah, and we are not actually his real parents. The aliens have brought him here to put him in our care. So in honor of his *SIX* year old birthday (and thanks to a great Groupon!) he got this book- from Planet Kutcha Kutcha, of course!

AB[C...]D: All but [children...]dissertation

On Friday, Evan took his very last final ever! I am giddy. He is officially "all but dissertation"- that precarious wobbly rung on the graduate school ladder where most incoming monetary offers are so low one risks falling off the ladder from laughing so hard or from just jumping off. Sigh. At least we're at the top.

What a crazy journey it has been. In seven of the last eight years someone has been in graduate school, with three years in the middle with both of us in school at the same time. Nine combined years and three very pregnant pauses later, we are here. Um, that wasn't really the plan.

Us. Around 36 weeks pregnant with Cristopher. He was born at 41 weeks.

I found out about the first ellipsis on the same day as my first graduate class. I was working full time and had to commute more than an hour to my classes while frequently pulling over to puke. Quickly we were shuffling our very bouncy boy like a hot potato. For many of Cris' early months Evan was the primary caretaker after we choose for him not to return to teaching the fall after Cris was born. After my maternity leave, I went part time through my next two jobs.  That was fairly balanced because we both had some work time and lots of baby time. We put Cris in a home daycare part time at 15 months when I started a new full time job and Evan started his master's. It proved to be a very unfit situation and we almost had to report them for neglect when I picked him up one day with twenty bites all over him where another kid of the same age had attacked him when the caregiver was outside. Next we put him in a part time mother's day out that we all really loved. It seemed, momentarily, like maybe things were going to work well for all. But then really hit a wall- like a watermelon- when I was working closer to 60 hours/week (the double-edged sword was that most of it was from home) in addition to graduate school. After turning into a very mean blubbery mess most days, I gave my two weeks notice. I was very grateful to do extended nursing with him throughout all of it.

Cristopher, about 30 min after birth. With Evan and my sister.

Ironically, (or perhaps fortuitously), the day after my last day I found out I was pregnant again, but this time I had no job prospects and was between insurances. I am so very grateful for the state services that have splintered us throughout our graduate school process! I have become keenly aware of how complicated navigating those systems are as well as how challenging it is for most who depend on them and glimpsed the stresses of the masses in our country living below the poverty line. I hope that we will always be advocates for those weighed down under those issues.

Evan holding Connor just after he was born

While we love him dearly, this baby screamed frequently, never slept, and refused to take a bottle. Nothing we did felt like it was meeting his needs. I think we were all somewhat depressed. It was utterly exhausting. And the weekly 2 hour trip I had to make for my Tulsa class was pure torture for all involved. He would scream for 6 solid hours.  He absolutely refused to take any bottle of pumped milk. (I am quite certain that if I would have been working full time I would have had to quit my job just like a friend of mine I knew). Poor little guy! In retrospect, I wish I had just packed him up and taken him to class with me in a baby carrier. But I wasn't yet the kind of mother who was confident or bold about those kind of things. Most (Un)Perfect time for me to start on my thesis... By divine intervention, the most gracious mother-in-law, and way over-extending the generosity of most of my friends and family, I finished all of it when he was two and a half! I am so relieved that he is adjusting better to so many things now. I will never know if many of his challenges were entirely something he was born with or if some of his development may have been a bit compromised from the stresses he had as a baby. We are just now beginning to get a handle on some of his enigmas.

Finally in January of 2011 I found out that I was pregnant, totally unplanned, again. This time we were able to fully embrace the possibility.  I was the most sick throughout this pregnancy, but in October after a month of pre-term contractions, we met our wonderful girl at almost 42 weeks. She is the most peaceful patient jolly baby ever. We are all so grateful for her and how much time we all get to spend adoring her. She fills the world with light and joy.

Getting to know Calyn in our bed.

Meanwhile throughout all of this Evan has played in countless amazing concerts and ensembles. The kids have gotten to attend many of them (which means I was initially spending many hours trying to nurse/quiet/occupy a child throughout his professional events). At times he has been working many jobs and had many days that start and then end before dawn. But we are here! Finally! And we are very blessed.

What your mamma calls you (A poem)

(Just a few weeks ago Calyn turned five months. Four months was a time of great delights. She can now turn over both ways and gyrate herself in a circle around a blanket. She learned to blow raspberries, suck her toes, drink from a cup, and give kisses). 

At five months I wrote another poem in her honor.

What your mamma calls you

[Valentine's day: I love you]

Your mamma calls you Beauty.
Your hair, two ripples,
concentric circles,
leading through
a labyrinth with each sleeping breath.

My favorite toy

But she could call you Joy
when you cackle gleefully,
and flex your whole body,
to see the whole world,
and watch it jump.

She calls you Comfort
when you nestle;
a wave returning to shore,
a nut inside it's shell,
an animal curled in it's den.

February. Image by my friend Sandra Rodriguez.

And when you roll over
Look up
Set out
And go-
She'll call you 

Hope.

Happy Hippos in San Antonio

Since Calyn was born and somebody gave her a pink sleeper with hippos on it the lyrics to song "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas" (which, as a cool aside, I can tell you became famous after it was sung for the Oklahoma City Zoo during the 1953 campaign when kids were raising money to buy a pygmy hippopotamus) have lumbering around in my head. And as she grows and gets those lovely little padded thighs on her squat legs make her even more reminiscent of the song to me; sorry darling. "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy, I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy...Only a hippopotamus will do. No crocodiles, no rhinoceroses. I only like hippopotamuses. And hippopotamuses like me too!"

Hippos at the San Antonio Zoo

A bit beyond pleasantly plump, it is hard to imagine hippos as icons to emulate. However, don't let their size burst their image bubble. These river horses were revered in Egypt as the deity of pregnancy. They carry their babies for nearly as long as us (8 months) and then do extended nursing for almost a year. Here are some other things they share with me: love of swimming, love of water, little sweating, love of forests (pygmys), being vegetarians (I am not currently), and unpredictability. And as far as parenting strategies go, I like the idea of "hippo parenting" that if your kids are being unruly or way out of line you should not digress to arguing but just solve that problem by sitting on them!

Well a few weeks ago, I took my sweet little happy hippo on a rather big adventure. The two of us drove to San Antonio. It was the farthest trip I have ever driven by myself before. We left at 8am on a Wednesday and after 6 stops got there at 9pm. Evan's uncle graciously allowed us to stay with him and I think he had a great time admiring the baby. I was there to go to a conference on early childhood topics- perfect place to take a baby to, she was a celebrity! And while we had a pretty long day on Thursday learning about creating outdoor spaces for infants and toddlers and using outdoor classrooms more efficiently, I also had such a lovely time just getting to enjoy this beautiful baby, my beautiful baby, with lots of unstructured time and long stretches without interruptions. It was so fantastic for a little while to just treat her like a first and only child.

We also got to do a bit of exploring in San Antonio, which was also fun because it is where Evan lived until he was six.  We explored the river walk with those magnificent cypress trees and mosaics and had some amazing Mexican food. We met a dear friend in Pleasanton, which has a most ironic name! Then on Saturday just the two of us ended up at the San Antonio Zoo. It was great! It had so many areas dedicated to very young children and some very purposeful ways for kids to play like animals; I can't wait to return with my other kids! My favorites were their monkeys... and the hippos. Seeing these fantastically huge giants swimming right in front of my face with their pursed lips seeming to smile at me and my baby was pretty magnificent. Turns out I love hippopotamuses, and hippopotamuses love me too!

Breastfeeding: Beyond Beautiful

A dear friend asked me some questions about breastfeeding this week and what I replied was: I guess what I'm learning is that once you go down that breastfeeding journey go and encourage others to do likewise; to support their babies in the ways they can, for as long as it is mutually enjoyable.

I will admit, I wasn't always a big fan myself. Even though I am a very organic person, in every sense of the word, for some unknown reasons it seemed very overwhelming before my first child was born. I think I assumed we would try for a little while, but only because it was nutritious. It seemed so awkward, so demanding, so confining. I was positive I would always be uncomfortable. I would hate it. In fact, I was more afraid of breastfeeding then of actually giving birth naturally! I thought once you introduce solid foods that that is the end of the journey. (In the same way I thought I could just have a baby and go back to work 8-12 weeks later like it was no big deal). And I'm pretty sure I looked with outward raised eyebrows and inward condemnation at those who had toddlers (or older!) dangling from under their blouses like little pink hogs or coming to ask for it like little trained puppies. I've heard the rumblings about people who breastfeed too long being overprotective, clingy, smothering, or the all time worst:abusive.

Turns out I was wrong. About everything.