Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Today...

My children today... Oh my. To be fair, we had one hell of an illness hit our home late last week and it left for a slow Christmas Day, as we are still trying to recover fully. Also, it is the day after Christmas today. Much excitement yesterday, but Papa back at work today and an attempt at some semblance of normalcy caused a bit of whiplash for us all. Still. All day today the boys were bickering and picking on each other. All. Day. And when they weren't bickering with each other they were trying to bicker with me. Or else BC was sulking around about every possible thing he could think of and AL was acting like a cat - knocking shit off of shelves and the table, staring at me while doing something he knows to be a no-no. You know, a cat. All. Day. Here's an example of but one of the lovely scenes from today:

BC was sitting on the kitchen floor trying to put together the food processor (yes, I had taken the blade out. No, don't ask any follow up questions). AL saunters up.

AL: What's that?
BC: Go away.
AL: Does this go here?
BC: Go away.
AL: Does this go here?
BC: Go away.
AL: Does this go here?
BC: Go away!
AL: Does this go here? Does this go here?
BC: Leave me alone!
AL: Meanie! Does this. go. here?!
BC: (shoves AL) Leave me alone - go away - get your fuzzy head away from me!
 -tears and shouts simultaneously ensue from both-

Now, I normally try to allow them to work out their issues themselves rather than run interference at every squabble. But this type of interaction over and over and over and over and over again really put me off my game. We started bedtime at 4:15 PM today and I'm not even kidding. Here's the point in the blog post where I'm supposed to switch gears and talk about how I know they really love each other and today was just a rough day and tomorrow will be better and we are all doing the best we can and how wonderful motherhood is. And they do, and it was, and it will, and we are, and it is. Really though? I just want a glass of wine. But damn. Pregnant.





Tuesday, December 4, 2018

Your Beautiful Soul

My Sweet Boy,

This morning as we lay snuggled in bed, not yet ready to let our feet feel the chill of the floor, I said "Happy birthday!" in a quiet voice. "Is it my birthday today?!" you cried. "It is" I said. "Oh, YES! My birthday is today! I've been waiting and waiting..." and then you were off. Off and running. Rousing your brother and Papa, making the proclamation known: It's my birthday today! 

Today is your third birthday. As the lone extrovert in our little family your soul light has no trouble shining. It is bright and it is beautiful. You still love to sing, still are the most tactile person I know, enjoy plays on words, good stories, play cars and other things lined neatly in rows. You love people and beauty. You. love. your. big. brother. You can't wait to be a big brother yourself to "your baby" next year. Your enthusiasm for life, coupled with your nearly constant stream-of-consciousness-soliloquy, tends to wear your introverted Mama (and Brother) out. But when I sit back and take all that is you in I cannot help but beam. You are the person I always wished I could be. That magnetic personality, boundless energy, and comfort and ease with people is infectious.  I am learning, day by day, the lessons you have for me.

I am so glad I get to witness your beautiful soul. Thank you for making me a Mama twice over.

Happy Birthday!

Love,
~Mama






Monday, September 3, 2018

Parenting Win

A while back I decided I would audition for a local production of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues. I've interpreted the play 4 times and directed it once but, having never actually been able to act in a production, I thought I'd give it a go. The auditions started at 6:00 PM and so I had to leave the house right when my husband got home from work, which was unusual for me. As I was gathering my things to head out the door BC asked me where I was going. I'm going to audition for a play, I said. What's the name of the play?, he asked. I paused, briefly.

I have always been adamant that we call body parts by their real names - all body parts. An elbow is an elbow, a chin is a chin, a bottom is a bottom, finger, toe, knee, shin, penis, scrotum, labia, vagina. They all have names and we use them. So in that moment when I paused it wasn't because I didn't want to say the word vagina. It was because I assumed what his next question would be, and I just didn't have the time to get into the political, social, and emotional themes that made up the play. I didn't have the time and, frankly, I would need to think about how, exactly, I would tell my 6 year old what the play was about in an age-appropriate manner. What words would I use? What themes would I include? Which would I exclude and why? All of this, of course, went whirling around in my brain in a few seconds because there he was, staring at me expecting an answer.

What's the name of the play?

I just went ahead and told him. Matter of fact.

It's called The Vagina Monologues. 

Now it was his turn to pause, briefly.

Huh. Mama, what's a monologue?

Parenting win.



Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Your Shadow

Tonight, after he had fallen asleep,
While we were having our,
Much needed,
One-on-one time,
I stepped out to grab you a blanket.
I reentered to find you staring,
In utter joy,
At his little face.
What are you doing? I asked.
Then.
Your words came from
Your soul space.


I know it's not always easy,
Being the older brother.
I know having a shadow,
A copycat, an idolater,
Is a rough business.
But, my sweet boy,
It won't always be like this.


He won't always be at your heels.
You won't always be the one
To make up your collective mind,
To be the one to help him,
To set the example
(Responsibility).
In the not too distant future
He will make his own footprints,
Without having to step in yours.
You will turn around and see,
Not him, but the space he once occupied.
He will have gone his own way.
Made his own friends,
Made his own mind,
Helped his own self,
Set his own example.


It's a difficult season.
Fair warning, it will
Get harder before
It gets easier.
But it will get easier.
And you will,
Although hard to imagine now,
Miss this time.
Just as I will miss this time.
Desperately.
So, too, will you miss
Your shadow.


He will always be your little.
You will always be his big.
You have each other in your keepings.
Forever.
You will go through it all,
Together.
You are siblings. Brothers.
Made of, literally
(Yes, in the literal sense of the word),
The same stuff.
What holds you together
Is blood. But it's also bond.
I see it already. It's there
Bubbling beneath the surface
Of frustration,
Of a need for space,
Of endless negotiations,
I see bond.
I see joy.
I see love.


What are you doing? I asked.
Just looking. You said.
He is so beautiful. 
I will never not love him.



Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Always

My dearest BC,

My, how far we've come in 6 years. You're you and I'm me and we are figuring out this big, wide world together. I am trying, really trying, to be the best me I can, for the sake of you. And for your brother. Thank you for your generosity of spirit. And for reminding me to put those red rubber bands around my wrist.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

Yes. Yes, I have. And I do. A lot.

You sigh. "More than you can every say," you say.

"That's right," I say, "more than I can ever say."

Thank you for continuing to allow me to see your heart.

"Mama, I when I saw AL start to cry I just... I couldn't stand it. I helped him fix his Legos."

Thank you for keeping me laughing and, simultaneously, in awe with your wit.

"Are you ready for bed?"

"Not yet!"

"Why? What do you need to do?"

"Mama, don't ask the question if you don't want the answer."

When I told you about how inside a mother's brain are actual cells of her children, and how scientists aren't really sure why, you told me you didn't like to think about that gooey stuff but that you were glad I'd always be able to know you.

I will. Always.

Six years seems like an impossibility. Didn't we just meet? Wasn't I just feeling your dimpled hands, and sausage toes? Weren't we just beginning to figure out how to be in this new life, this new world, this holy relationship together? Now it's six years gone and, although your fingers are no longer dimpled, and your toes are no longer sausages, we are still figuring it all out. We are still meeting, as I suspect we will forever be. But I will always be able to know you. Always.

Happy Birthday, Sprout.

~Mama




Friday, January 5, 2018

And

"The days are long but the years are short."

It's a new year. A new day. A new opportunity to shape these lives I get to hold as my children. It has been a frigid week here in New England (and, I gather, in many other places) and so we've spent a good deal of time indoors, much to all our chagrins. I'm trying to cut back on my toddler's nursing sessions for personal reasons. My husband has been working late in order to finish a side project with a looming deadline. These have been some long days. I'm not complaining. I'm stating. 

My children are 5, and 2. In truth, my oldest is closer to 6 than he is to 5. When I think about that, I mean really think about it, all I can do is shake my head. How? I wonder. It was yesterday that he was a babe in arms. It was. And it was a minute ago my now 2 year old boy wonder was a babe. And then I blink. And then I think. And then I look at them and swallow the lump in my throat (except when I don't and choose, instead, to let the lump rise to the corners of my eyes in liquid form). And then I breathe and smell the tops of their heads. And I play indoor soccer, and Batman and Robin of Batman, and shop, and I read books, and help with spelling out the words for the sign he's making for his new business, and help with figuring out scissors in his little hand, and blast the music for a dance party, and make spinach pudding for lunch and that's all, and stop short of losing my mind over toys on the floor and instead proclaim a race to pick up and put away and the one with the most things put away wins (and it works), and I scramble to think of what the prize will be, and I realize the only prize they want is a big "Yay!" from me, and okay, maybe an even bigger hug, and... The days are long. But the years are short. This chaotic, messy, sticky, loud, sweet, important time with them is going by so very fast. And, man, am I going to miss it. 

~M