Learning 2 Remember

Ezra's Birth Story

2012-02-01T19:33:00.000-05:00

Ezra, 1 Hour Old

Tuesday, January 24

Lots of Braxton Hicks contractions, probably 200 during the daytime. No pain but a noticeable hard belly and my poor little bladder would get wrung like a sponge with each one. This felt like a good sign that baby would be coming soon. Matthew and I went on a date, giddy with the idea that this might be our last date night in a long time.

Wednesday, January 25

From about 5-7 am, I’d awaken briefly to slightly more painful contractions (2/3 on a 1-10 scale). They weren’t enough to really awaken me but I mentioned it to Matthew and we agreed our baby might arrive today. I was grateful for having had a good night’s sleep because I knew I’d need all possible energy for labor.

We went about our days as planned, Matthew taking Noah to preschool and going to work, me picking up our bulk food order and savoring a leisurely latte at a favorite café (knowing that this also would be the last time I enjoyed this leisure activity in a very long time!). I did call Audrey, the midwife, and let my Mom know she might want to get ready for driving in from SC. Contractions were about every 8 minutes or so, just painful enough for me to pause whatever I was doing but not enough to take my breath away.

At preschool pick up, I casually mentioned to a few friends that I thought the baby might join us today or tomorrow. I felt a quiet excitement and planned to go for an afternoon woods walk to see what transpired.

I noticed a few drops of brown in my undies before leaving to meet Aura for our 2 pm walk. I let the midwife know and put on a pad. About 3 pm, I felt a gush of fluid but because we were on a semi-public path, I decided not to check for whether it was amniotic fluid or bloody show (turned out to be amniotic fluid). The contractions definitely began increasing in pain and frequency, perhaps a 3 to 4 for pain and every 6 minutes or so. We finished our walk and headed home about 3:30.

My mood went from casual to urgent the second I got home. Noah’s talking to me during a contraction was suddenly very distracting. When I saw the brown/green fluid in my pad, I called Audrey and asked Matthew to come home “within the hour.” Audrey and her assistant midwife, Edie, were on their way. I cancelled going in to work that evening. I started preparing our room by folding laundry and pulling out baby clothes/blankets/birthing supplies. I made a pot of rice into rice pudding, thinking that would be a yummy post-partum dish. I wanted the “nest” ready and now!

By 4 pm, I needed to get on all fours for contractions, moaning a deep, throaty “Ommmmmm.” Matthew texted, asking if he should pick up anything at Whole Foods, and I told him he needed to come home now.

With some of my first contractions, Noah looked very concerned and gave me a big, comforting hug. With some of the later ones, he looked more peeved, telling me to get off his TV couch and that he couldn’t hear his cartoons over my noises!

Matthew arrived home about 4:30 and began setting up the birthing tub. Edie arrived shortly thereafter and began setting up supplies. Contractions were intense now-probably a 6 to 7 in pain and coming every 3 to 4 minutes but there was a definite rest in between them. I remember calling my Mom to ask how far away she was and having to put the phone down during a contraction. Hope that wasn’t too scary for her…

Audrey arrived about 5 and made comments that we were very close to having our baby. She didn’t check me, she just knew from my noises and behavior. Gotta love midwife intuition! I was relieved to hear this because, by now, I was mostly on all fours, hugging the birthing ball and asking Matthew to apply counter pressure to my sacrum. He was managing this and a loud, chatty, curious Noah, which was difficult for him and distracting for me. I was bellowing out a deep, low “Ommmm” during contractions still and Noah mentioned that he didn’t like that noise. He also took the birthing ball away from me at one point! I had a brief dip into the birthing tub but the water was too tepid to stay for long. Got dried off and continued the hands and knees position with the birthing ball.

Matthew's Mom, Bepi, arrived about 6:00. Pain was 7 to 8 and contractions were about every 2 minutes with less and less time in between. I felt some of that hysterical fear that I couldn’t make it through. I was finding it hard to make use of the rest periods, remaining tense instead of relaxed. My low moans got higher pitched and I felt real self-doubt that I could bring this baby out. Audrey encouraged Noah to go downstairs with Grandma Bepi so I could be more focused.

By 6 pm or so, Audrey was urging me to position my tailbone more downward to the earth and push, as if with my rectum. Can I just say how surprising it was once again to realize the pushing of labor feels much more focused on a woman’s rectum than vagina? I mention it because the realization really helped me focus my body in a more fruitful way (that might be a pun). Audrey also encouraged me to stop vocalizing and instead contain all my noise and breath as part of the pushing sensation.

My Mom arrived at 6:30. I went into a deep mental state about now, realizing that I had to truly commit to bringing this baby out. I had the insight that I had been, in fact, more committed to avoiding the pain than to pushing through it, and it wasn’t going to work that way. The only way out was through. I used this insight and encouragement from everyone in the room (Audrey had called Noah and Bepi upstairs and I heard him cheering on the baby on his way up the stairs, which was hugely helpful) to push harder than I thought possible until I felt his head crown. Several pushes later, I felt his slippery body slip out with a gush of fluid. 6:43 was the time, they tell me. I collapsed with relief, in that moment, more glad to be done than curious about my baby.

We cleaned up and quickly settled on the bed to cuddle and nurse. We love each other all ready.

39 Weeks, 5 Days!

2012-01-26T20:51:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends,

We are thrilled to share that our baby boy arrived last night at 6:43 pm, safe and healthy. He weighs 8 lbs, 14 oz and measures 21 inches long. It was a fast labor but both Grandmas and Noah were here to welcome Ezra Mylo to the family.

Thank you for your blessings. It was wonderful to feel your support.

Love,

Abby, Matthew, Noah and Ezra

39 Weeks

2012-01-21T11:44:00.001-05:00

Almost there! Feeling at peace with these last few days of pregnancy and getting really excited to meet the wee one.

PS. Noah was born at 39 weeks, 2 days...I'm now at 39 and 1...

"I'm The Leader!"

2012-01-19T21:46:00.000-05:00

This is one of Noah's common phrases these days, whether we are heading downstairs in the morning or walking in the woods with Chula Dog (who does not cede her leadership to the toddler tyrant). And lately, I've been feeling like my kid is the leader of my days, for better or worse.

I find myself struggling with some of his firm desires (needs?) lately because they feel very much at odds with my own. For many months now, we've hung out on the lawn after preschool-a great chance for me to talk with other mamas and an opportunity for him to free-play with a wider age range of kids than are in his classroom. Recently, he's been adamant about wanting to go home and not play. I've gently offered a few possibilities and made reasonable concessions ("We can sit together on the grass and finish your lunch while Mama talks with her friends, you could see if M. wants to play chase with you, we'll hang out for just 5 minutes and then go") and he's been very clear that he doesn't want to be there, to the point of tears. Yeah, well what about my desire to socialize?

When I ask him about this later in the day, not in the heat of the moment, he tells me "Sometimes I just want to be alone." Oh!- Of course I can relate to that...I often I feel the same way. After 3.5 hours with 7 other kids and a couple of adults, the kid has had his fill of socializing. I think I need to honor that and get my socializing fix in some other way.

A few days ago, we headed out to Hillsborough for what was going to be a short hike on some pretty land. I have been feeling this rush of exploratory energy in the days before the new one arrives and I want to see the cities and towns around Durham, before it's "too late" (or too cumbersome to manage with 2 children). Noah fell asleep on the drive out there, a very unusual happening since he rarely naps in the afternoons any more. When he woke up 40 minutes later, I was chirpy about the upcoming hike, getting his warm clothes on and moving us toward the trailhead. He, on the other hand, was very emotional, upset, and totally resistant to the idea of moving anywhere.

We are at a point in our relationship where I can no longer physically "insist" Noah do something he doesn't want to do. I'm 9 months pregnant, sure, but he's a 3 year old in a 4 year old body. "Making" him do something against his will would require significant force and it feels wrong to interact in this way. This means I have to use those higher level skills of verbal persuasion, and while I'm getting more skilled, voice requests alone can be very ineffective with Noah right now. And it's so frustrating! There was nothing I could do short of trying to haul a 40 lb, crying kiddo for a mile, with the hope that he'd get happy and join in willingly. We turned around and drove home. I haven't had such a failure of an outing since he was an infant, when his lack of a sleep schedule meant he fell asleep every time I tried to get out of the house. This feeling of being misattuned and thwarted on such a regular basis does remind me of the infant stage a bit (and might well be preparing me for the frustrations of newborn care).

Why won't my kid just do what I want him to do?! (joking a little here). Oh, he's becoming his own person? He feels safe to explore his own interests and desires independent of me? I'm being challenged to learn new ways to explore conflict? Sounds fun. When does the individuation "stage" end again?

Baby Angst (1 week old)

Doubts

2012-01-08T02:12:00.000-05:00

As the woman on my meditation track likes to say, in an annoyingly-annunciated, breathy sort of way, "Pregnancy is a time of very. heightened. awareness." I've been walking in a cloud of doubts the last few days. Not a great place to be and probably not the heightened awareness I should be striving for in these last few weeks of pregnancy, eh?

I believe the psychological term for what I'm doing is "catastrophizing." It's my usual planful self running amuck with the distant possibilities, all negative.

Any mistakes on the part of my mostly-super-but-occasionally-infallible mate become very big indicators of how he will fail me in the challenges of co-parenting two needy ones. Noah's amazingly theatrical tantrums of late become, in my own amazingly theatrical mind, a running sign of how he will regularly sabotage my efforts to meet the big needs of the newborn. I'm picturing constant torment and acrimony in our house. My body's increased "failure" to sleep over the last few weeks is a warm-up to the sleep deprivation awaiting me when the baby arrives. The pain of an earache felt surprisingly unmanageable last week-clearly an indicator that labor may be too big a challenge this time. While we've made many good friends in our first year in Durham, how can they ever be as supportive as our Austin network was in that needy time post-partum?

I don't remember feeling any of this worry and doubt in the last few weeks of my pregnancy with Noah. I was too ignorant (ahem, blissfully so) to even comprehend the specific challenges of birth and newborn parenting. Instead, I was eager, fresh-faced and excited on all levels-spiritual, emotional and physical-to meet my baby. It's time to get to that place again, cuz they tell me 37 weeks is full term!

I've experienced these "crises of confidence" right before other times in my life when I've needed to buck up strength and find a way through a big challenge. Acknowledging the specific fears and asking for encouragement and support can help push me through what's scary and difficult. I welcome your words or thoughts of encouragement and support!

32 weeks

2011-12-16T15:21:00.002-05:00

I'm actually at 34 weeks now but there's always a little lag time in photo taking and blog posting.

My wardrobe now consists almost exclusively of dresses over leggings because my actual maternity tops and maternity pants fail to cover my entire belly. It's big, people.

And because I'm nice like that, I'm not going to post a photo of the varicose veins spidering all over the back of my right leg. Even I want to scrub my eyes after I see that!

Won't be long now...

Radical Homemaking and... My New iphone

2011-12-10T11:45:00.003-05:00

I finished a very thought-provoking book last week, which is also the same week I received the super, latest version iphone, replete with advanced voice activation features and my own digital assistant named Siri. Coincidence? Sigh, I don't always believe in those...

Radical Homemakers author Shannon Hayes profiles a dozen families engaged in alternative economic lifestyles, joined in that they strive to produce and create more in order to consume less (what I know now is a medieval economic system, thanks to this smart medievalist). That sounds very Econ 101 but on a practical level this involves taking basic steps toward self-sustainability:

learning how to produce food
building their own homes or living in very cheap housing
bartering for services like childcare
self-educating themselves (or seeking out teachers) for free on matters like nutrition-based health, raising chickens, car repair, etc...

By not having to spend so much income on these goods and services, many of the families are able to leave full time, paid work or dramatically limit their participation in the traditional economy. I don't know about you, but most of my employment experiences (not including my current position!) have been less than fulfilling. I was settling for a paycheck and health insurance but there was a heavy "soul tax," if you know what I mean. Not working for a paycheck allowed many of these families to live lives more in tune with their values, whether performing more enjoyable and meaningful labor or being able to work together with their mate, children and neighbors, or simply working fewer overall hours of the day.

I feel very far apart from the radical homemakers' caliber of sustainability but I've experienced the satisfaction of simplifying my daily life and of being able to meet some of my own needs. There's a lot I still cannot (or choose not) to do for myself, but I regularly cook healthy, inexpensive food for my family, and diagnose and treat our minor ailments with homeopathic and folk remedies. I am very blessed to have a mate who can make a lot of super cool stuff with wood, from our beautiful bed to Noah's new play loft/fort. The thought of taking additional steps in this direction is both exciting and daunting.

For the families featured in Radical Homemakers, a key to achieve this kind of everyday freedom from traditional jobs is to have less "stuff." Ah, back to that iphone. It's beginning to seem incompatible with the radical homemaker mindset, which also emphasizes that pleasure and fun can be had in the old-timey ways of conversation with neighbors, music and art-making. Paying to have fun, especially when that fun involves limited connection with others, is a trap of modern life.

I am motivated to move in the direction of semi-radical homemaking in part because the benefits are many: economic, environmental, psychological. I have already seen just how much more enjoyable our lives are since moving to a smaller city and finding more fulfilling, less stressful work. Our lives are simpler now, and better, with more of a focus on family and spending time together.

Here's the short list of some practical steps I can take in the direction of living more simply and more sustainably:

Minimizing the pay-to-play trend as we consider Noah's enrichment activities
Minimizing my own pay-to-play tendencies when it comes to yoga. I don't need to pay a teacher to practice yoga, that's the beauty of it.
Keeping my 16 year old car going as long as she's willing to drive (vs. trading up for something flashier with those new-fangled power windows, for instance!)
Growing some of our own food in a garden. I'm really intimidated by this because we have tried unsuccessfully to garden in Texas.
Asking someone to teach me how to make kombucha and other fermented products I enjoy.
Experimenting with craft-making for fun and beautifying. I learned about freezer paper stencils at a crafty playdate yesterday and my mind is abuzz with additional possibilities for gift making.

Will I send my iphone back? Nooooooo! But I can use it as, you know, an actual phone for meaningful connections with my favorite far-away people and less of a way to pursue constant updates of trivial information from people I don't necessarily care about (Twitter, anyone?).

I'm curious to learn some of your small (or big) efforts toward daily sustainability.

If you can't say anything nice...

2011-12-02T14:30:00.000-05:00

The only proper comment to this post is to tell me what a great decision I've made...!

Bye, bye long hair!

Hello, low-maintenance lady!

Living a Slowed-Down Life

2011-11-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

I'm living life in the slow lane and I like it that way. Most mornings the only deadline we're dealing with that day is getting Noah to preschool around 9. And nobody at school minds if we're late (although my thrifty self doesn't like to think we're paying for childcare and not using every single minute of it!). I have to be to work at set times in the evening but I have a very forgiving Boss Lady/mother in law who understands the occasional tardiness (sometimes the result of her son, and I make sure to point out these times!).

I occasionally flit into the fast lane inadvertently, like when I make my 9am appointments with the midwife in Garner and have to join the adrenaline-fueled commuter rush from Durham into Raleigh. I can read the incredible urgency of the other drivers, as they swerve from lane to lane, gunning the gas pedal and sending death looks to everyone else, earbuds in place and business deals already in progress. My body remembers living like that not too long ago, gunning down IH 35 during Austin's morning rush hour, feeling apprehension, and on the worse days, dread, at what was waiting for me at the office that day. I also remember wearing tight (professional!) clothes and heels I couldn't wait to get out of each afternoon.

Noah and I usually grocery shop after school, again with no particular urgency. Recently, we were in the same aisle as an impatient businesswoman in on her lunch break, high heels clicking as she moved with purpose and speed. Noah had sat himself on the floor in order to help scoop bulk cinnamon into a little bag-cute stuff if you were in the mood to appreciate it. Well, she was not in the mood. It was clear that she resented Noah being in her way (as an aside, we shop in the tiniest Whole Foods I've ever been in, so it's hard not to be in someone's way at all times while shopping). I was taken aback by her unfriendly demeanor, even as I recognized it from all the times I, too, was rushing on a daily and hourly basis. In this frame of mind, it's easy to view other people, and children most especially, as obstacles to efficiency, to getting things done.

If motherhood has taught me one thing, it is that hurrying children never ends well. My very best times with Noah are when we flow at his pace throughout the day. I usually have an idea of what we'll do most days but I'm willing to let it go when it doesn't work. Overscheduling, rushing, having lots of firm time commitments-all of these kill the joy of being with children. What I didn't realize until I became a mother is that it's also a pretty shitty way to live as an adult!

I anticipate an altogether new rhythm to our days (and our nights...sigh) when there is a newborn in our lives. No doubt we'll be moving at an even slower pace.

One Year Later

2011-11-05T12:01:00.000-04:00

A year ago this week, Matthew and I made the decision to move to North Carolina. It was a teary time and we focused a lot on what we were leaving/losing with the decision. All the benefits seemed in the long term and we still really loved our lives in Austin. I am so glad we forged ahead.

It is just a coincidental calendar date, of course, but within the last week I've been struck by the many positives of our new lives here, from several casual hangouts with new and promising friends to very sweet and generous offers of baby items from people in Noah's preschool community. And it's gorgeous Autumn, with amazing tree colors and crisp temps forcing sweaters and even coats! (I am perusing the LL Bean catalogue with new interest, as I realize my dinky Old Navy down vest may not be sufficient weather wear for my new locale)

We're busy nesting in anticipation of the new baby, gathering baby goods and finalizing the touches that make a house a home. This weekend, we will finally paint our bedroom (using this cool ginko branch stencil over the bed) and we're spending a lot of pillow time envisioning the logistics of our new family dynamic. As Matthew commented earlier this week, "Noah's been kind of awesome lately," because he does seem deeply content and settled these days (just in time for us to completely disrupt his stability with a new sibling!).

Maybe that's what feels most reassuring-I feel safe and ready to bring a baby into this rich, full world of ours.

Softening, Softening, Softening...

2011-10-24T19:39:00.001-04:00

I had the visual today of my pregnant self dissolving into a pile of nothingness. I was crying as I dozed, remembering a dream I had the night before of Lilly dog. She was alive, youthful, and beautiful as ever, but she'd come back to life as someone else's dog and didn't recognize me when she passed me. I have no idea where this dream came from, and I can usually trace a dream to some fragment of conversation or memory or visual from my waking life. It was the kind of crying that just seemed to leak out. It was intense and there was true emotion behind it, but it seemed to come from nowhere. I've been experiencing a lot of that this week, as Matthew can affirm. I mean, missing a beloved dog is a totally reasonable thing to cry about, whereas his leaving coffee grounds in the sink again (instead of down the disposal)...er-not so much.


Wicked Witch, Melting... fascinationwithfear.blogspot.com

And then there's the spot of pee in my undies every time I cough or sneeze with any force. And the fact that I have to take care in yoga to not stretch as easily or dramatically as I'm able, thanks to the relaxin cruising its way around my body, literally stretching my pubic bones apart and softening my cervix in preparation for birth. I'm melting, I'm melting...like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz.

All of this is disconcerting; I feel like my core self is dissolving and I don't know when it will return or who I will be when it does. Someone once mentioned to me how motherhood manages to strip you down to nothing, then build you up to someone changed and different (and hopefully better!). That resonated big time for me with Noah but I'm a little surprised to find myself here again.

Noah's "Fravorite" Song

2011-10-23T08:47:00.000-04:00

The most notable learning since Noah began preschool this summer has been his increased sociability and how much he sings. I don't know if he sings the songs with any accuracy, since this little ditty involves a dinosaur, a dog, and a tiger in the a well, which doesn't seem like a nice visual at all, does it? He also now has "fravorites in the world," ranging from colors to foods to people to...yes, songs.

The Week in Pictures

2011-10-23T08:02:00.001-04:00

Noah at the corn crib at Ganayard Hills Pumpkin Farm


Fun with our Austin friends, Emily and David. Noah loved the 4 loving adults to 1 energetic kid ratio. Matthew and I loved their sweet company, though now we have to miss them all over again. Note the glorious pumpkins!

25 weeks

Tantrums in a New Light

2011-09-30T14:30:00.003-04:00

It has been a trying couple of weeks with Noah. Some days are super fun and enjoyable; we're in sync, we're flowing together, on the same page-all that New Age jazz I actually believe in! We make "garola," we cuddle on the couch reading books, we're all smiles and giggles-we cherish our time with one another!

And other days are just a constant clashing of wills. Those are the times when my otherwise sweet and loving child demands we get him things, tells me to go away when I walk in the room, pitches fit after fit when he can't have chocolate almonds for breakfast, or milk in the middle of the night, immediate attention, a constant playmate, etc... [insert the other 1,000 examples here]...

I know at least some of it is me; when I'm centered, well-rested and able to meet my basic needs for quiet, sleep, food, adult companionship, etc... I can roll with the challenges of a toddler acting like a tyrant. Call me a "stupidhead" and I'll roleplay being a stupidhead while I sweep the floor. While we truly don't eat chocolate almonds for breakfast (I'm rigid like that), we'll make a yummy smoothie together instead. We stay active and creative, I find reasons to hug and hold him throughout the day.

When I'm physically tired (and I am having trouble sleeping lately, in part because he is waking up in the night again, in part because of pregnancy) and we're together for long stretches of time with no break, I feel as though I simply don't have the emotional resources to deal with another meltdown. It is probably relevant to note that we're also phasing out naps, which were an important way to "reset" both of ourselves in the middle of the day, as well as ensure reliable rest for our physical selves. On those days when we are out of sync, I'm impatient with his endless questions (the circular "Whys" have begun in earnest), I ignore his outlandish demands or respond in childish ways that don't reflect maturity or compassion.

I've found perspective and support in this article by Patty Wipfler in Mothering magazine, which describes why toddlers tantrum. Another resource I've skimmed is Tears and Tantrums by Aletha Solter. According to both authors, toddlers tantrum as a way of discharging the day's frustrations, fears and upsets-big feelings that arise from seemingly small incidents. The problem is not the broken cookie, it's feeling alone and sad, or embarrassed and uncertain, and needing a parent's help to make sense of those overwhelming feelings.

Wipfler says:

There are four pivotal perceptions that can help us see tantrums in a new light.

Children enjoy being easy-going, loving, cooperative, and eager to learn. Children are built to take in lots of good experiences, and to operate with joy and enthusiasm.

Children's good nature can be obscured by bad feelings. When they are sad, frightened, bored, frustrated, or embarrassed, or when they feel alone or unappreciated, their good nature becomes encrusted with bad feelings. This emotional tension pulls their behavior off track, away from trust, cooperation, and enthusiasm. When they are loaded with bad feelings, children literally can't think.

Hurt feelings confine a child to unloving, fearful, or irrational behavior. A child will openly present this behavior in order to signal for help. The child who wanted milk, then didn't, then did, then didn't, was signaling as plainly as he could that his ability to think was compromised. He was asking for help with a knot of unruly feelings.

With a little help, a child who is upset or inflexible can recover his ability to reason and to be pleased. To do this, he needs a supportive adult close by, while he works through his upset.

I recognize in myself an opposite impulse to view tantrums as a blatant attempt to manipulate me and evidence of bad behavior requiring a harsh response (because you know what bad behavior on the part of a child means-bad parenting!). In this mode, I simply want to shut his tantrums down. It's a strong, almost unconscious reaction that I'm sure has "something" (!) to do with how I was raised. Tantrums were not permitted in my childhood household and the punishments were severe if ever they leaked out. That's not a model of healthy emotional regulation and not what I want to implement for my family.

I want for Noah to be able to release his emotions, in a way that is beneficial to himself and respectful to others at the same time. I consider these skills part of emotional intelligence, something I have experienced as a significant element of overall life success. In that view, what a wonderful learning opportunity he offers both of us as we move through his toddler years. I am challenged on an hourly basis to model ways he and I can handle negative feelings while maintaining respect and emotional connection. Over and over and over again, just the way a child learns!

Siblings without Rivalry?

2011-09-07T12:22:00.000-04:00

It was so great to spend time with my sister and her family in South Carolina over the Labor Day weekend. Loud, because 4 kids make a lot of noise, but a great opportunity to experience sibling and cousin dynamics in an up-close and intimate way. Matthew and I were psyched when Noah basically walked in the house and was ferried upstairs by his two cousins, playing happily and without any adult involvement for at least two hours. As an only child, Noah often expects that we will be his playmates. For a little while there, we had visions of Noah and his new sibling playing happily together (when the little one is older, of course) while we had normal-volume, meaningful conversations!

And then....the conflicts began. "He not sharing," "He not waiting for me," "That's mine!" And on and on and on. The conflicts truly hit a crescendo during car trips, as the video captures so well. It is so tiring dealing with these squabbles because they are both minor and incessant-nothing's big enough to really require intervention, yet letting it go on and on seems to send the message that it's acceptable. Trying to intervene is a lesson in ludicrousness because kids fighting over a damp beach blanket is not reasonable behavior! The only logical intervention is to remove every damn object they might conceivably fight over and then you're acting as unreasonable as they are.

For the most part, they don't appear truly invested in whatever object they are arguing over; it just becomes an almost normal way of interacting together. It creates a lot of tension and headache for everyone around. There were many points where I just wanted to tune everyone out and let them wear themselves down into silence (since they were not physically harming one another and no child was much older or more powerful than the other). Let me clarify, the rivalries here were mostly Noah conflicting with his cousins, not so much the siblings conflicting with one another. And some of this is because he's not used to constant companionship with peers so the weekend was a bit overwhelming in that regard.

So now I'm considering the likelihood of sibling conflict as we expand our family of 3 to 4. This weekend's experience definitely rekindled memories for me of regular, hourly arguments with my many siblings (I have 5), especially one sister in particular (you know who you are!).

What do you think?: Is sibling conflict inevitable, normal and to be expected? What are good strategies for addressing it? How and when should adults intervene?

On Making "Garola" (Granola)

2011-09-02T21:16:00.000-04:00

Noah and I have been in a great groove lately and this morning's granola-making experience was just chockful of examples. I feel some obligation to keep the family supplied in granola since it can be such a wholesome breakfast food and Noah and Matthew eat it almost every day. I also wanted to give my sister a batch during our visit this weekend. So...today was the day. It's something I usually do when Noah's not in the house: it takes about 2 hours total with lots of chopping, melting butter, roasting nuts, toasting the oats, etc. None of that sounds very kid-friendly, right?

I'd considered waiting to start until he went down for nap later in the day. But something told me to give it a try. It looked like rain, we had Richard Buckner on the stereo, we had no better plans...

I found myself chopping 10 walnuts at a time, as Noah stood next to me on his chair and stoically placed handful after handful on my cutting board. It was absolutely a make-busy task on his part and yet, I have never chopped walnuts so intentionally. I was glowing because this kid was beaming radiant light at his task, interrupting his joyous task only to offer little gems like, "I like being with you, Mama." And on it went, as he happily mixed melted butter, sesame seeds, maple syrup and oats in a giant turkey roasting pan (because I finally went bold and made a quadruple recipe-that's 16 cups of oats!) and added the chopped dried cherries and ginger at the very end.

It was such a good meditation on mindful parenting and finding a way to meet everyone's needs, even when those needs seem to be at odds. It was slow and inefficient, for sure, but there was nowhere else to be. And yes, he claimed his post-nap bowl of granola was really good!

No Two Are Alike

2011-08-15T10:15:00.002-04:00

Getting a little "thick" at 16 weeks

I'm about 4 months into pregnancy #2, and just starting to feel my energy uptick one watt at a time. It's like having been sick for a long while and the feeling of joy and energy you feel as you begin to recover. I have to say this pregnancy has felt so very different from the first. I'm reading the book Double Life by Lisa Catherine Harper, the story of her first baby, from conception to first word. Finally!- I've read a mothering memoir that rings true to my own experiences. She describes the wonderful heady, life-is-amazing-and-miraculous mindset I experienced through all nine months of my first pregnancy. No matter what shitty thing happened that day (and my father died in this period so shitty things did indeed happen), my spirits were constantly buoyed by the thought, "I'm having a baby!"

A friend recently captured this thinking nicely, "With #1, you feel like no one else has ever had a baby before. At least, not quite like this one." And it's all silly but wonderful nonetheless.

This go-round, I feel so much more grounded in the day-to-day muck of the world. Believe me, I'd rather have my head in the clouds (especially on some days). Feeling fatigued nearly every day from 4-7 pm imbues life with a kind of low-grade funk, challenging my self-identity as an active, healthy, and energetic person. The house never gets very clean and Noah's become much more of a video watcher during this period.

Maybe it's that being a parent while pregnant requires that I dwell hugely in the present and not so much the future. A toddler's orientation is of-the-minute, not 6 months out (not even 15 minutes out)! When I do think about the future as a parent of two, I feel more weighted by what I already know. Before, I was among the first of my social group to become pregnant, so I didn't have a realistic idea of what to expect as far as birth, postpartum and actual parenting.

Since having Noah, I've made friends with many more parents, and heard enough stories to know that really bad things can happen (my specific fears are of miscarriage, having a C-section, baby death, baby sickness). I already know the postpartum period will be supremely challenging as we adjust ourselves to parenting two very needy creatures. I found the postpartum period with Noah a really tough adjustment and friends who have done this say the adjustment between one and two is much more difficult than from 0 to one.

So, I'm acknowledging all that but I think it's time to get giddy and inspired about the birth of this baby! I just read Ina Mae Gaskin's latest manifesta, planned my first kids consignment sale shopping excursion and have started playing around with the Mei Tai carrier my friend Gray sent me today. Baby's comin,' just look at that belly!

The Joys of Parenting, The Short List

2011-07-31T10:03:00.001-04:00


Fetching food from the fridge

In email conversation with an old friend M. recently, I said I worried I was painting a rather gloomy picture for her of parenthood (she is planning to be a parent in the near future). She agreed. That simple exchange has stuck with me over the last few weeks. It's not how I feel about parenthood, overall. Yes, some days are more challenging than joyful, but in the long view and on balance, parenthood is amazingly fulfilling. The most fulfilling thing I've ever done with my life, easily. Why else would I be pregnant with a second child if it's not a worthwhile endeavor?

But it can be "diabolically difficult," in the words of Zen teacher Susan Murphy. To be so responsible for and enmeshed with another creature, one who's little brain is still developing on so many levels, and to be their parent at all times, day and night, is damn hard. Caring for a dog, being in relationship with another adult-nothing I've done in my life could prepare me for this kind of commitment.

M. and I also discussed how there seems to be a strong cultural motif around parenting, one that glorifies how arduous and difficult it is, full of daily sacrifice on both the micro and the macro level. Maybe it's part of a larger cultural shift to greater personal transparency, talking about what goes on in our lives and homes with more openness and acknowledgment of the hardship and failures. That seems like a generally positive shift, no?

Where I'm struggling is how to avoid absorbing these messages and allowing them to shape my thoughts, attitudes and behaviors in a negative way. Seeing my child as a burden, holy terror and a time-suck; that's no way to honor their life. Cultivating joy and appreciation for the gift of parenting feels especially important right now as I'm pregnant. To wit, here's a short list of what's great about parenting Noah these days:

I relish mornings in "the big bed"- his warm, naked body alternating fantastic full body cuddles and protests of "Give me space!"
Watching him make sense of the world, connecting two related concepts for the first time, and having a role in this new understanding. For instance, Matthew related that his truck has an engine under the hood, which is what allows it to go. Noah offered that a train also has an engine, which he knows about because one of our nightly reads is the book Freight Train.
Seeing Noah adapt to a big transition, preschool, and share his hesitation and fears so openly ("I sad when you go away") and move forward with the big hard thing anyway-that's the stuff of emotional growth right there. I feel proud that we were able to acknowledge how hard it was for him and encourage him to adapt and enjoy his new friends, loving teachers and exciting play.
There have been some other gradual signs of greater independence. He'll decide he needs something from upstairs and will skip up the stairs to fetch it, instead of requiring my going with him. When we go for walks in the woods, I leave the carrier behind because this boy is walking the whole mile. This boy is running at least a third of that mile, in fact!
I'm a total sucker for conversations with Noah about the baby-to-be. He started off offering to "bam my belly and hit the baby" but has since relayed all the ways he will play with this baby. We've been skimming the very real-to-life photos in this book, which has led to a lot of new vocabulary about genitalia. "Who has wulva (vulva)? Grandma has wulva? Noah has wulva?" It's hilarious and heart warming to see a child's innocent awareness of bodies.
Noah's learning how to tease and do things for a laugh. "There's no juice for you, Mama!," he cackles, having poured the last drops of my cup into his cup.

It's a great time to be Noah's mother!

To Spawn: to produce, to give birth to; give rise to, to produce in large number.

2011-07-15T20:12:00.000-04:00

I don't know about the "large number" referenced in the dictionary definition of spawning but we are gestating a second wee human to hopefully arrive late January, 2012. Some of my more astute readers picked up on a buried mention of our looking for a midwife in a recent post and immediately started sleuthing. I'm 12 weeks along and my only "symptoms" are crazy animal appetite and fatigue. Apparently gestating a baby, or rather a zygote the size of a lime, is a lot of internal effort, because I am needing to eat every 3 hours and sleep like a toddler. On a good day, I sleep 9-10 hours at night and still slip into bed to share Noah's afternoon nap. I'm talking under the covers, no bra, drooling within minutes napping. And I am not a napper, never have been. On a bad day.....from 4 pm until Matthew gets home, it's lay-on-the-couch-and-play-trains bad.

I sort of remember being tired with the first pregnancy but caring for a child while pregnant is a special kind of intensity. I appreciate that this is great preparation for what it will be like to care for two humans. Pregnancy is requiring me to get in deeper conversation with my physical body and basic needs, making sleep and nutritious food high daily priorities, and this is a beautiful thing. Pregnancy, birthing, breastfeeding-all these mothering experiences remind me to honor and respect the physical body that makes it all possible.

We meet next week with two midwives who assist in homebirths. I did not realize how fortunate I was to have a homebirth in Austin, Texas, where there were dozens of midwives to choose from. Texas is apparently on the cutting edge of midwifery, educating would-be midwives from all over the country and having generous policies allowing homebirth. North Carolina is much more restrictive, such that there are only two legal midwives providing homebirth in my geographic region, one of whom is based an hour away from me. This state does not recognize Certified Professional Midwives (CPMs), like the one who so capably assisted us with Noah's homebirth.

Our excitement until now has been pretty low-key but I know connecting with a midwife (and hearing a heartbeat) will ramp it up in a big way. Will share more after our interviews!

PS. Noah began preschool this week and it went very well. He reported "feeling sad for Mama and Papa," but teachers' reports were that his sadness was short-lived and the paint-splattered clothes and happy smile at pick-up did much to reassure me that this is a good next step for Noah. What a relief!

We've Got Guests!

2011-07-09T11:39:00.000-04:00

My dear friend Robyn is coming this week for a visit, along with her husband and two kids, from Buffalo, NY. Can you join me in applauding their nerve, for they will be driving for 10 hours with a 3.5 and 1 year old? I know I am not so brave.

One of the greatest thrills of my friendship with Robyn is that it has remained strong even as we've lived in separate cities for many more years than we ever lived in Austin. We first met in Texas in 2001, when she and I both answered calls on the crisis hotline at SafePlace. She moved back to Buffalo a year or two later after getting her MSW at UT. We've kept up by phone and occasional visits ever since. And now she's coming to Durham!

I do feel a little hosting anxiety, especially because we'll be managing 3 little ones within one household-and young kids usually prefer the familiar to the new. I've already started planning menus and possible sleep arrangements, potential outings and places I want to show off in my new town. If I don't remind myself hourly of the intention for this visit-to soak up precious together time with friends-I could let those planning urges lead me to an unhappy, fretful spot. I've also learned that I need a little solo time every day, especially when I'm being extra sociable for many hours a day, so building in some private time even as the house is abuzz, is also a priority.

Got tips for enjoying a full house of friends? Please share.

"G" is for G-R-U-M-P-Y

2011-06-26T16:21:00.002-04:00

It's been a grumpy few weeks. No, let me put a more active voice on that statement: I have been exceedingly grumpy and negative in my thoughts over the last few weeks. My physical energy is low, low, low-just as Noah's hit a contrary phase that really tries my patience and creativity on a daily basis. I'm not sleeping well, in part because Noah's again waking in the night and requiring soothing. It's hot, limiting my outdoor exercise to before Matthew leaves for work at 9 am. Our babysitter's on vacation for a full month, meaning Matthew and I compete with each other for alone time (never mind time together, sans child). Without the sitter, our work schedules bump right up against one another, meaning we communicate mostly in "business"terms while handing off Noah.

What's really sad is that I've given myself a reality check, yet the whiny internal voice keeps on. I just finished the book Caleb's Crossing by Geraldine Brooks. Set in 17th century New England, it's told from the point of view of a woman who desires formal education and is denied the opportunity because she is female. She details the endless monotony of her womanly tasks, performed while absorbing any intellectual stimulation she can find: waking up before dawn to grow, prepare and store food, including in times of great deprivation, keeping a home clean and warm through backbreaking labor, caring for children easily stolen by illness and accident. What could I ever complain about in this life of relative luxury?

I'm trying to just observe this grumpy voice and not be too harsh in my self-judgements. There's also some change on the horizon...

Noah starts preschool in two weeks, for three mornings each week. I've pinned a lot on this preschool experience, maybe too much. I have a long list of tasks to begin tackling: we need to register our cars (still driving with Texas license plates, here), get NC drivers' licenses, research and adjust our homeowner's insurance on the Austin house, find a midwife...Not to mention I have big dreams for what I'll do in the long term with those ten hours/week of childcare: put in some more work hours handling studio tasks, more regular yoga, some more inventive cooking...

As the start time looms near, I'm beginning to fret: "Why do I think my slow-to-warm-to-new-people-and-crowds child is going to embrace being left at preschool?" It's not out of the range of reality that this plan will implode upon itself, with a miserable Noah crying in protest each morning, refusing to accept being "abandoned" for 10 hours a week. Now I'm willing to let my child be unhappy in small amounts and for "stretching" experiences-especially when it's important to the good of the entire family unit-but if he is desperately unhappy attending preschool, I don't know that I'll have the heart to force it. I know I need some daily time away from him so I can be fresh, loving and truly nurturing to his little soul, especially as he navigates the totally normal (and totally aggravating) limit-testing stages of toddlerhood. I'm trying to strike a balance between doing everything in my power to make.it.work (violating the biggest parenting lesson I've learned, which is to let my child guide me in meeting his needs) and trusting that whatever happens will be good.

If you've got any tips on helping kids with big transitions, please share.

Always Dated

2011-06-05T21:45:00.001-04:00


Fresh-picked strawberries are one of the best new experiences in our new state

I've fretted a bit about not updating, not because I have some quota for frequency but because my last post is titled "Lonely," and the feelings of loneliness have come and gone. It's no longer an accurate description of life in this week or even last week. Although the reality is that, unless I'm writing in real time all the time (which just does not mesh with my medium-tech lifestyle replete with one shared desktop computer and a "dumb phone," nor is it how I want to be living my life), this blog is always more a meta analysis of the last few week's activities, feelings, insights, than a daily journal. Always dated, in other words. I like to think my reactions to life's happenings are more interesting than the actual events and those reactions take a little time to stew and percolate.

The reality is my computer time is growing more limited by Noah's ever-shortening nap (and one day it will be gone for good-sigh). Sure, he goes to bed a little earlier at night but that's right about when I want to be laying in bed with a book, or catching up with my long distance friends and family, not staring at a screen. I need that 45 minutes + of quiet time to wind down, and it apparently works well for me. For years Matthew has complained jealously about how I fall asleep in approximately 4 minutes, right in the middle of his very brightest thoughts!

We traveled a bit this past week-to visit college friends outside of Asheville, NC. They live an admirable life of rural sustainability with a giant garden, scratch cooking, quilt sewing and plans to raise chickens for eggs and meat. In fact, Matthew worked with D. to build a coop for the now-wee chicks to live in when they are bigger. It always tickles me to connect with long-ago friends and rekindle the ties and shared memories. I tend to think I was a real annoying idiot when I was 20 and attending Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana. But if all my friends from that time are interesting and lovely people today, it makes me think maybe I had more redeeming qualities than I remember! Mostly, it warms my heart to realize that geography is a surmountable constraint when it comes to maintaining true friendship over the years.

We had many moments of resting in cool mountainous air, tall forests all around, rushing water at our feet, no one else around. As naked Noah and his Papa threw stones in the river over and over again, I had the thought, This is why we moved here. It is awesome to feel that reassurance and resonance with our decision to disrupt every facet of our lives and change paths to North Carolina. I feel proud and fulfilled to be actively choosing our lives' direction versus being simply carried along by circumstance, weariness, surrounding norms...

Tonight we hosted a potluck for a really great group of families we are getting to know. I see an awful lot of potential there for new friends-for Noah, Matthew and me (the best kinds of friends are the multipurpose ones!). Sending lots of love to our multipurpose friends tonight...

Lonely

2011-05-13T13:55:00.000-04:00

This is the first week since moving when I've felt lonely. I've had a lot on my mind but don't have close friends in Durham to share with. Talking with my Austin friends by phone requires a bit of orchestration (and blessings from the child sleep gods) because it's too damn hard to connect during the day with awake children requiring care and the daily errands competing for time. My friend Lauren and I scheduled a "phone date" last night because we hadn't been able to have a meaningful, uninterrupted conversation since I moved away in February. And it was wonderful and relieving, in the way that intimate conversation is. In Austin, she and I would get together at least once a week; the kids would play and we'd pick up and put down the conversation in an easy ebb and flow.

While I've joined a playgroup here and see lots of potential for new friends, the stop-start style of playgroup conversation makes it difficult to talk about anything of substance. I am realizing that adult friendships take a lot more time and intention than the ones of my youth and my impatience is not going to change this. It might even hurt the effort!

In addition, it's hard to read some people; does their not responding to my email invitation mean they wish I would go away, even as we had enjoyable conversations and our kids played happily during our first get togethers? Or are they someone who only occasionally gets online? I haven't felt this unsure of myself since middle school!

I feel like I'm putting in the effort I can into meeting people and making connections with those who seem receptive and compatible; perhaps the challenge for me is to consider this an incubation period of sorts. Noah starts his preschool program in July and all indicators are that the school fosters a sense of community and friendship among parents, teachers and kids. I have the feeling that might be the most natural, easy environment for making friends. A related challenge is to figure out where else I can focus my energies and attention right now. I've been jazzed about some Montessori and Waldorf methods of involving young children in the daily work of homemaking so that's a new area of growth in parenting. More on those discoveries in another post.

If you've gone through a lonely period in life and come out the other side, won't you share any insights or advice?

A Less Heavy Heart, Part 2

2011-05-05T15:28:00.001-04:00

the new Alpha dog

Lilly Dog died at home Monday night. I suppose I must be an incorrigibly positive person because I can't help thinking of all the ways her death was a good one. I mean, we're all gonna die but there are good deaths and bad ones and she went quickly and at home with Matthew holding her. I was putting Noah to sleep upstairs; we decided we didn't want him to witness her death. She was only sick for a week and, at only 11 years old, she never even really got old. We didn't have to agonize over the decision of whether and when to euthanize her; she went into respiratory distress and was gone in two hours time. Matthew buried her the next day on his mother's property.

Lilly was a big dog and had a way of making her presence known. It is weird to walk through the house and not hear her thick talons tap-tap-tapping on the hardwoods and tile, nor hear her heavy harumph as she lays herself down for yet another nap. I miss her warmth and weight at the foot of the bed each night. I feel her absence right now typing on the computer, because she would often wedge her big dog self under the desk at my feet. In fact, that's where she died.

I'll write more about Lilly as the memories surface. The meta-memory is that she marked the start of my adulthood in my new city, Austin, and was very good preparation for parenthood. My love for her was pure and uncomplicated; I'm thinking a lot about how that quality might inspire my relationships with other humans.

We're exploring the new family dynamic. I have to say, Little Chula Dog (aka Chula Bean, Beaner, Monkey) is emerging in new light now that Lilly is gone. Chula is sweet, docile, submissive-all things Lilly was not. In fact, I have to insert a funny anecdote here: many years ago, we had a friend, Chris Lee, who nicknamed her "Lilly Bin Laden" because of her very aggressive mistreatment of his dog, Gadjo Dilo. I couldn't help but note that Lilly died the day after Osama Bin Laden, her namesake. Do you believe in conspiracies?!

Chula's happy, goodnatured ways mean I can take her to the nightly neighborhood dog romp, which I only this week discovered, and even to the park playgroup this morning, where a dozen kids jostled and vied for the opportunity to walk her on the leash.

Figuring the best way to talk about Lilly's departure to Noah has been an interesting challenge. We nixed "she went to sleep and didn't wake up," lest it invite intense fear around sleeptime. We settled on, "She got really sick and Papa took her away." That's been enough info for him so far, but we might also show him her burial site at Grandma's, if he seems interested.

Thanks for all the words of support and kindness during this loss.

A Heavy Heart

2011-04-29T12:40:00.000-04:00

Happier Days with Lilly (aka Boo Doo, Cake Minister D)

Lilly Dog is not well. I have a feeling she's living her last days, that's how not well she is. Our never-miss-a-meal girl didn't eat Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. Nor did she come upstairs to sleep on our bed, where she's slept since her first days joining the family eleven years ago. She's having a hard time moving around, is breathing hard and swelling in various parts of her body. The light in her eyes is dim, very dim.

We had a vet come to the house Thursday and he agreed that she's seriously ill and likely won't get better. The collecting fluid may well be hemmoraghing or internal bleeding from tumors (there is a hard section we can feel under her abdomen). We opted for blood work and don't know the results of that yet. Matthew and I are both clear that we won't opt for intense interventions to prolong her life, not even the expensive ultrasounds that might give us more specific information about what's wrong. If you saw her this week, you would agree that this is not a quality of life worth preserving. If you ever witnessed how distraught Lilly girl gets in veterinarian offices (as in, bolt across four lanes of traffic if she wasn't being securely carried in by two strong adults), you'd understand that we can't take her there now.

We're talking about euthanasia at home and wondering if we should allow Noah to witness that. I think not, in part because he has no appreciation for the seriousness of the situation and I worry that our heavy sadness and tears will be overwhelming to him. It's been a struggle to parent in the last few days; his chatty, self-centered essence is one of lightness and constant need, when I really want to revel in grief for a few hours. I'm getting some of that time today. I got a couple hours of it in the middle of the night, too, after waking up to let Lilly out to pee (she almost never goes out in the night so it's yet another reminder that something's very wrong).

Maybe Noah's actually a gift in that sense, because I am able to function normally when we're active and out of the house. It's laying my body full length against Lilly and stroking her ever-so-soft fur (with the faintest smell of tortillas) that brings on the gasping tears. I have long joked with Matthew that, when Lilly died (in the far away future, that was), I would have her stuffed and mounted so we could always stroke her magnificent fur. I don't think that will come to pass.

The only break in this heavy grief came when she ate the chicken liver and rice stew I made for her yesterday afternoon. She's eaten more of that since and taken some medicine that way, but it's not making her well.

One Sweaty Month Later

2011-04-24T00:28:00.000-04:00

I've spent a full month practicing Bikram yoga. It's been an enjoyable month and I'm glad I pushed on through my initial hesitation. Bikram is unlike any other yoga I've practiced because it so very focused on the postures, to the point of feeling like an aerobics class, replete with teachers yelling instructions at an auctioneer's pace and hardbodies wearing ridiculous, skin-baring costumes. There is none of the soft music, incense, the-lessons-of-yoga-are-the-lessons-of-life parables, stories of self-care and personal renewal, spoken in a comforting and encouraging voice, etc. Ahhhhhh....I so love that stuff. I really do. And now I can return to it.

It was a formidable challenge to continue after the first few classes. I had to gin up the courage to go, even for my 4th and 5th times. Once there, my goal was to get through. I struggled with ferocious tension neckaches in the evenings after attending morning classes. I also got headaches a couple of times from not taking in enough electrolytes, but that was an easy remedy (coconut water, or just a good slurp of salt off the back of the hand). And then it started to become enjoyable. I got in the groove of hydrating hugely before class (no morning coffee before class!) and being pretty focused on my food and drink after class as well. In that sense, Bikram practice became the element around which I organized much of my day. I couldn't be casual and just drop in. I appreciate the intentionality that inspires.

The Bikram-style practice is all about the body. And my body did feel good over this past month: I lost a few pounds and felt lighter in my skin, I had zero sinus troubles, which is really notable since we're in the midst of pollen season here. The 105 degree heat of the studio, which felt so overwhelming at first, became a pleasant backdrop, especially on cold, gray days. I could almost visualize the toxins sweating out of me. I felt strong and capable.

The intense physical practice is attractive to my Type A and competitive self: I want to do that pose better than I did it yesterday (the Bikram series is the same set of 26 poses every single time so it's easy to see your improvements) and maybe even show off a little to the neighbor behind me. Did I mention the studio is surrounded by ceiling-to-wall mirrors and you are regularly encouraged to look at yourself in the mirror for focus and concentration?

But yoga has been so beneficial to me over the past decade precisely because it has helped me inhabit my mind and spirit at least as fully as my body. The ego-driven life of competition with others and do-, do-, doing rather than simply being is the nasty place I go to easily if I'm not careful, but it's not the life I want to live. I credit yoga (and motherhood) for helping me see this, and for allowing me to refashion my life in a way that is balanced, mindful and joyful. Bikram yoga is not for me, but I learned some helpful things during the trial:

Right away I was going for the advanced expression of the pose and it was hurting, not helping, me. I'm a strong enough student that I could get myself there, but it was a strain on my body. My first clue was losing my steady breath, my strongest clue was the tension neckaches later in the day. In short, just cuz I can, doesn't mean I should.
Bikram's exhortation against drinking water in a thoughtless way (between the first and second set of poses, for example) seemed ludicrous, like throwing out rules just to see if people will take you seriously. But I came to see that drinking water frequently during class, like so many mindless habits in life, can become a distraction, a way to avoid the difficult task at hand (in my case, camel pose).
The point when I started really enjoying the practice was when I made it my own. I even engaged in little acts of subversion like closing my eyes during the mini savasanas (not encouraged), and ignoring the instructions to look up at the ceiling in locust and other belly-based poses (I realized cranking my neck upwards is the major source of my tension neckaches). This is a huge takeaway with lots of implications in the rest of my life. As I find myself in new and/or challenging circumstances, staying attuned to that internal compass is vital to my wellbeing.

So now I'm thinking about my yoga practice a little differently. Maybe the fact that I haven't found the perfect match of teacher/style/studio means I should try something different. I work in a dance studio after all...maybe I'm about to discover how much I love to samba!

A Different Pace

2011-04-16T17:12:00.000-04:00

My new work schedule is no 9-to-5er. I head into the dance studio on Wed, Thurs and Sun nights, as well as Saturday morning, working a total of about 12 hours in the studio and 2-3 hours at home on the computer each week. Each shift has a different vibe, from the sweet excitement of thirty 2, 3 and 4 year olds "discovering movement" on Saturday morning to the calm and quiet of tai chi and pilates on Wednesday night, to the booty-shaking rhythm of hip hop and Afrofusion on Thursdays.

I handle the computer work (mostly data entry and e-marketing) whenever I catch an hour or three during Noah's naps or bedtime. In a given week, I might be working drafts of the studio e-blast at 11:30 pm on a Saturday night or watching a movie during Noah's nap on a weekday afternoon. Because I generally only work 2-4 hours at a time, I don't ever get bored of what I'm doing. I think mothering a toddler has made my attention span and energy ever-shifting (or maybe I should credit the Internet) so this cadence is a really good tempo for my life right now.

The best part? I sleep until my body is ready to wake up, or until Noah stumbles grumpily into the bedroom, whichever comes first. But I never, ever, ever have to hear the heart-stopping sound of an alarm clock nor scramble to get out the door, eat toast while fighting traffic and rush my butt into a desk chair in an office.

To really pile on the perks, working for my mother-in-law means I have a kind and easygoing boss; the fact that she's Noah's grandmother means I have an extra-empathetic employer should I need to stay home with a sick babe (knock on wood; he's in super health). It really is a special thing. I realized recently that I feel zero stress about work, such a far cry from my previous employment experiences.

I had a smidgen of disappointment to learn I'd be working weekends. In my former life, weekends were this sacred time of respite from the rigors of the week. But you know?, there are no rigors in my week (aside from the regular highs and lows of synching with a mercurial beast, er-toddler). That's a leftover concept from another time (and it's strongly reinforced by being normal for many). I feel this slight remove from the schedule "most" people keep, and it gives me clarity around timekeeping.

For instance, living a slowed down pace has helped me see the harm that comes in rushing. A child's pace is slow and trying to rush them anywhere is a guaranteed bust. In fact, I find being focused on the clock is a real relationship bruiser because I am likely to overlook Noah's needs and disrespect his desires in my effort to get somewhere quickly. Heck, having a lot of rigid time commitments to meet is bad for my own wellbeing, as measured by ragged breath and murderous thoughts toward slow people! Noah will start preschool this summer; I'm curious to see how that will impact our easygoing mornings.

More and more, I see time as my greatest resource, not money. Time allows for spaciousness, self awareness, openness to change, connection to others-that's the good stuff in this life!

Are you content with your schedule and pace of life? Tell me about it.

My Teacher, Yoga

2011-04-10T19:49:00.000-04:00

Last I wrote about yoga, I was in the smorgasbord phase of trying out lots of studios and teachers here in Durham. I decided to give bikram yoga an earnest try, committing to a month's pass and going my usual amount of 2-3 times/week. If you remember, there were parts of bikram yoga that turned me right off (It's a consistent, never-changing sequence of poses and the dialogue-style of teaching [they parrot Bikram's own words, including the funny diction of someone whose first language is not English]) smacks of brainwashing or guru-worship, neither of which appeal to me. Yet, and yet...there was something about the first few practices that I found intriguing.

I thought maybe the highest learning for me would come from committing to learn more deeply about a type of yoga that I wasn't easily drawn to. I would liken it to the decision one makes to go backpacking or run a marathon. I've done a fair amount of backpacking (but zero running since cross country 5Ks in high school) and there are moments within that endeavor that suck. You're sweating, you're carrying a 1/3 of your body weight up an arduous mountain trail, eating dried foods and sleeping on a thin mat. And it's usually an amazing, soul-brightening experience. Would bikram yoga prove to be similarly beneficial?

Stay tuned...I'm at week 3 and definitely experiencing some insights.

And a Little Child Shall Lead Them...

2011-03-17T15:28:00.001-04:00

I love going out and about town with Noah. We visit parks, the library, sample new restaurants and generally take in new sights. His openhearted way of interacting with strangers makes for some really lively and fun interactions. Some people walk by a toddler who's excitedly pointing out the mail man or the big truck carrying a forklift and barely notice him (he is only 3 feet tall so perhaps they don't actually see him). Others stop to really engage him in conversation or little games that absolutely delight him (and of course I cherish these people!).

Yesterday, a man I recognize from his regular panhandling on 9th Street approached us excitedly because he had seen us earlier in the morning in a different part of town. We were chilling on some grass across from Whole Foods, Noah snacking on some cashews and pushing his Firetruck book around (it's a book with wheels). Willie, as he introduced himself, came over and immediately engaged us in loud, exuberant conversation about random topics all over the map. He knelt down to Noah's level and asked for a cashew, which Noah promptly pressed into his mouth. I could see that simple gesture really touched Willie's heart. While Noah did not appreciate Willie wiping his nose for him, he quickly warmed up to the man who spoke as feverishly and illogically as he does. "THIS IS MY FIRETRUCK BOOK (makes fire engine alarm noise)! THERE'S AN AIRPORT IN HERE! GRANDMA JOY GOES TO AIRPORT!"

We talked for 5 more minutes or so, Willie snacking liberally from the cashews and oddly, offering Noah a dollar bill. Were Noah not with me, there is no way I would have participated in this conversation with Willie. For one, I wouldn't spend 20 minutes hanging out on grass next to a busy sidewalk. For two, my fear of engaging homeless people in conversation is that I will eventually be asked for money. I have very mixed feelings about giving money to the homeless, some of whom are addicted to drugs and alcohol. I don't want to feed an addiction. Yet, I don't want to deny their humanity by ignoring them, either. It's an uncomfortable dynamic for me and I haven't figured out the right approach beyond being friendly but saying no to requests for money. In the past I've given food, but one of Willie's odd gestures was to hand me a nearly full bag of Trader Joe's trail mix that someone had given him, saying "I don't like this stuff." That made me laugh.

How do you engage with the homeless? I'm looking for ways that are compassionate and intelligent and don't involve me offering a room in my house!

Finding My New Yoga "Home"

2011-03-15T19:25:00.000-04:00

I've been on the (mostly peaceful) prowl for the right yoga studio/teacher in Durham. Toward the end of my time in Austin, after five years with the same two teachers at the magnificent Dharma Yoga, I'd gotten restless and began trying new styles of yoga. The one that resonated the most was the Baptiste style of Vinyasa Flow at Breath and Body Yoga. While the room was warm, it wasn't oppressive. The teaching style was rigorous, but pleasingly focused on proper alignment with the soft-hearted, meta-spiritual teachings I have long associated with yoga ("be open to life's challenges, develop stamina to meet them, focus on your path and intention, love others," to name a few common themes). I want to find something like that here in Durham.

Five teachers, four studios and a lot of computer time later, I still haven't found my yoga "home." I am intrigued by the Bikram Yoga style, but the military-style rigidity, and guru-worship element turns me off, off, off. I usually honor that voice of resistance but something is telling me to try it a few more times before deciding. Bikram, unlike all the other yoga teachers I've ever known, is extremely dogmatic about the superiority of his method. It kind of seeps into your consciousness. What if his method really is the key to a healthy and fulfilled life? Yet, there is no spirit of community in the two classes I've attended (admittedly, not enough experience to draw a full conclusion). There's not a lot of joy on the faces of those around me. I don't only practice yoga for a healthy body so without those elements, I'm out. I'm planning to return, still skeptical but not finding a more perfect alternative at this point.

After a negative experience in an Ashtanga class in Austin many years ago, I closed myself off to that method. Come to think of it, just what I'd read of Bikram had closed me off to that style! How silly of me, right? But maybe this period of uncertainty and transition is precisely the time to try even those styles I decided against. I'm a different person all these years later, after all.

Durhamites, I welcome your suggestions for favorite teachers and studios. I need a studio that offers morning classes many days a week within a few miles of Central Durham.

In the Weeds

2011-03-10T00:26:00.000-05:00

I think we've hit the point in our move where we're not having much fun. The novelty of new is over and we're wanting stability, structure, a schedule-all the elements of a really boring life!

Part of it's that we have all these move-related tasks to tackle (painting the walls, buying furniture and screwing in shelving, setting up a bank account, identifying childcare, finding a yoga studio [may seem frivolous but it's important to me! In fact, I think that pursuit deserves its very own blog post], while everyday life, with all its demands, marches on. And I still can't find shit that's been put away somewhere unknown to me or is still packed up in one of the 5 boxes remaining. Matthew and I have already begun working our jobs, dinner needs to be made and the laundry still does not magically do itself. In this state of overwhelm, it's hard to identify what's even the first most important item to tackle, they all feel important.

I think we're getting clearer that finding childcare will allow us a lot of the space and quiet we need to tackle some of the other matters. Noah's phasing out his nap and contrary to what many other parents testify, it doesn't seem to lead to more overnight sleeping hours. He's awake for most of the same hours that we're awake and it's not possible to spend a full hour researching health insurance plans without his needing us, oh 12 times or so. What I know about myself is that a regular amount of time away from my boy helps me return to him feeling creative, loving and energetic. Long periods of together time without a break lead to feelings of resentment and wishing he would just.go.play.by.himself for a week. Not good for either of us.

So we submitted our first application for the Durham Community Preschool. It sounds great (they all do), and this one is just a 1/2 mile away and something we can afford. We'll keep looking at other options although Durham doesn't seem to be as hyper-competitive a preschool market as Austin was (did ya hear our auto insurance premium dropped over $600/year, too?) so I'm not too worried about it.

We manage to tackle one little thing every day and pretty soon we'll be back to "just" the regular stressors of everyday life. Looking very forward to that...

First Week, First Impressions

2011-02-27T13:00:00.000-05:00

We've been in the moving-out or moving-in process for more than two weeks now but life is finally starting to feel settled again. Two weeks is a long time to live in a state of mega clutter and mini chaos. And for the first few days, I was so disoriented in my new city that I couldn't even drive Noah to nap without getting lost!

I am enjoying our new house, after a few days spent lamenting all the ways it was not our Austin home. Whereas our Austin house had a very open layout (you could see almost every room of the house from the front door), this house has lots more rooms with nooks and crannies and these weird transition rooms, the uses of which are not immediately apparent. Noah would get lost the first couple of days trying to get from the bathroom to the kitchen! And there are two floors and two bathrooms and instead of thinking how great it was to have more space, I focused on how much more work it would be to keep it all clean.

I forgot that a house looks its ugliest when it's empty. Even our beloved Austin house looked rather unspectacular to me when I gave it its final sweep. You move away all the furniture and pretty objects and what's exposed is the years' worth of accumulated dirt, the places where the paint has faded and the sheet rock is cracked. But now our items are mostly in place and it's starting to feel like a home and noy just a house.

Some of my first impressions of our new city:

-Wow, the trees are huge and tall. It's like living in the forest.

-Not living on a busy street means it's so quiet and dark at night.

-Brick, brick, everywhere!

-Going for an evening walk with Noah and I'm reminded that our neighborhood, Duke Park, is a tight-knit community (a huge draw for us). People stopped and engaged us in warm, welcoming conversation. That just didn't happen in our old urban neighborhood.

-Durham is a lot smaller than Austin. The pace feels slower (from traffic speed to the pace at which customers move through the tiny [tiny!] Whole Foods grocery store. I haven't encountered a single traffic jam, come to think of it. I might even venture to cross town at 5 pm on a Friday just to see if they have traffic jams here).

-This is not a super stylish town. I think I may never wear high heels again, in fact. Then again, my travel circuit these days is the local park, playgroups, yoga studio, Whole Foods and Home Depot. There may be a fashion-centric part of town, but I haven't found it.

-I'm reminded that we do have some friends here, or at least some very strong leads. Three of Matthew's high school buddies came over to help move the piano this morning and they're all married, some with kids. I liked them all and see a rollicking dinner party in the near future. We're invited to a BBQ this afternoon and a baby birthday party next month. We'll find our "tribe" here, I'm feeling more confident about that.

-The living-near-to-family thing is great. MIL has been over several times this week and Noah's pretty sweet on her already. They're working their way up to more 1:1 outings (date night returneth!) but having someone else play with him while we put together closet shelving is a gigantic help. My Mom arrives Tuesday for a week's visit and we'll also spend a long weekend with my sister and her family (Noah has cousins!) in South Carolina.

-I'm starting to get into the challenge and thrill of exploring a new place (instead of just feeling overwhelm at my total lack of familiarity). Great bakery for polenta basil cake while Noah watches the bakers roll dough for crostata ? Check! The post-nap, go-to park within 5 minutes of the house (2 story curly side an extra bonus!)? Check!

Yeah, I think I'm gonna like it here.

The Emotional Life of a Toddler

2011-02-12T11:02:00.000-05:00

Noah is entering his "Wonderful 2s," a stage that is both challenging and stimulating for his Papa and me. I'll focus on what's great: the coolest development of late is that Noah is able to identify and communicate some of his emotions. I mean, the fun and challenge of young children is that they are labile, moving quickly from despair to joy and everything in between. The photos with this post, for example, were taken within one minute of one another! But this fast pace makes it extra difficult for them to pause and identify what's truly going on for them, much less communicate it to a caregiver.

When Noah tells me "I skeared big truck coming," in response to our having told him that the moving truck comes this morning, Matthew and I know to get down on his level, hold him close and talk about how exciting it will be to have a big truck in the driveway, and how happy we are to move closer to Grandma Bepi and her chickens. The only other clue we would have had to his emotional state is that he also wanted to be picked up and held that morning, very insistently. Asking to be picked up and held is a frequent request of Noah ("me carry you," he asks), especially in his emotional moments post-nap. I admit, it's been a struggle for me and for a long time, I avoided picking him up as much as possible. Holding a 35 pound toddler is a majorly physical feat, and if you aren't using a carrier of some sort, it's impossible to get anything else done. And maybe that's part of its appeal to him-it requires very intense 1:1 attention. I can't hold my toddler and make dinner.

His emotional vocabulary is limited right now to scared and sad and happy, but we're modeling more sophisticated ones for him. "Noah, I'm really mad that you used this marker all over the floor. Now I have to clean it up." When he was younger, I might have used a more neutral phase: "We don't write on the floor. We use markers on paper." It feels freeing and more genuine for me, too, now that I can share more of my emotions with him, including anger and frustration, two that get tapped an awful lot for me in this mothering work. He doesn't always get it, as evidenced by his smiling broadly at me as I expressed my anger at his floor "art." He seemed genuinely proud and excited to show me what he'd done even though he knows (right?, we've talked about how we don't write on the floor before, so he does know it's a wrong behavior. Or does he?).

When I think about what I really want for my son, self-awareness and the ability to really know, feel and share his emotions with others is near the top of the list. I also want him to be perceptive and understanding of others' emotional states. In short, I want to cultivate his emotional intelligence. It's not an intelligence we seem to value much (where's the school curriculum or standardized testing for this form of intelligence?!) As a boy, I worry about the added cultural pressure to hide or avoid the "soft" emotions of sadness, hurt, pain-anything that conveys weakness. Those feeling states are ones of vulnerability, and in my own life, those are the times when I've grown closer to others only if I've been able to honestly assess what's going on and ask for help.

What other ideas do you have for fostering inter-and intra-personal intelligence in the wee lads and lasses?

Letting Go

2011-02-10T10:01:00.000-05:00

The beauty of being in transition is that it helps me connect more with the idea of non-attachment to things, my emotions, and so on. For instance, Matthew has this annoying (to me) habit of parking his truck in the driveway in a way that makes it difficult for me to pull the heavy and wide bike trailer into the garage. We actually had a pretty heated argument about it a few days ago, with Matthew pointing out the dimensions of the driveway, his need to be near, but not too close, to the house, etc...This is not the first time we've had a heated discussion on this topic. At some point, we looked at each other and realized, we will likely not have this problem after Feb. 15, let's get over this. Of course, you could argue that how we address this conflict is probably how we'll address future conflicts but I was just glad to let this one deflate like a balloon.

As we get closer to the move date, with the house looking less and less like our happy home, I'm having to come to hard decisions about many objects in our house. And I'm defaulting to letting them go. It's fascinating to consider the economics of a move-suddenly, items that might hold some value on Craigslist or Ebay hold a negative value because I have to work to pack them up, pay to ship them and then unpack them later in our new home. The bundle of professional work clothes that I'd hoped to consign or...something all went into a garbage bag, dropped off on my friend Lauren's porch, where most will invariably find their way to Goodwill (she's a different shape then me, and a more flamboyant dresser). As someone who has benefited greatly from Goodwill shopping over the years, I suppose that's a very natural ending to that story!

I will say, it also felt good to let go of all that those clothes represented for me: dressing up each day in a way that felt restrictive and formal, adhering to a more rigid time schedule, work that didn't quite satisfy. Now the clothes in my closet actually reflect who I am! Although, I'm about to select the 3 outfits that I plan to live in for the next 10 days-this move is moving quickly into "camping mode," where we eat random odds and ends on paper plates, and keep only the bare essentials. The next little while is gonna be like non-attachment boot camp!

Got any inspiring stories of letting go and being glad about it?

Cluttered House, Cluttered Mind

2011-01-27T15:09:00.000-05:00

I'm thrilled to announce that we've rented our house! This was the final hurdle between us and our move to Durham, so it's a big relief. Already, the house has returned to its "default setting," now that we don't have visitors traipsing through several times a week (see our "before" and "after" photos for a quick visual). I wish I could say it's messy on account of the upcoming move, but we've not even begun the packing process. This is just where the house ends up when we're not diligent about keeping it swept and ordered.

I'm becoming clearer about how my surroundings affect my moods and energy. I feel sloppy-minded and easily overwhelmed when my house is strewn with belongings and the dishes from the last meal are still in the sink. I feel calm-minded and content, excited about the day, when I walk into the kitchen to make morning coffee, and the counters gleam and everything is in its place.

I don't even mind cleaning the house, especially when I have a partner (Matthew and I make a most efficient pair when we break down the tasks into two little lists and tackle them at the same time) and can catch up on NPR on the headphones. I despise cleaning when I have to do it during the precious 1-2 hours of Noah's naptime and instead of reading, talking on the phone with friends or Internet stuff. I really don't enjoy putting away Noah's toys and other items, only to have him dump them back out 5 minutes later and before I can even sweep. It's his house too, though, and while we're teaching him how to pick up and put things away, a 2 year old experiences life through making messes. How frustrating for me!

I'm trying, though, to employ the few tricks I have for low-maintenance upkeep. Whenever I'm warming something in the microwave, I take the 1.5 minutes to load the dishwasher or sweep the kitchen floor. I check the mailbox right next to the outdoor recycling bin so the junk mail never makes its way inside. I make cleaning up toys a game with Noah by seeing who can throw the most blocks into the bin.

But nothing motivates me to zip out a bang-up clean house like having visitors. It's the face-saving (shame-avoiding) social charmer in me, I suppose.

Loving My Lot, or Trying To!

2011-01-18T21:49:00.000-05:00

I'm profoundly grateful for my weekly meditation group. You better believe I'll be looking to recreate this experience in Durham! Every Sunday morning, four to seven of us gather in a backyard office in Clarksville and spend 40 minutes in simple silence. We designate 20 minutes afterward for discussion. We are all parents of young children and our post-meditation conversation almost always details our struggles and joys in parenting. A common theme for many of us is how much we crave the elusive "me" time in our lives. Even when we get some (yoga class seems to be a favorite outing for many of us), we're left wanting more, resenting having to schedule it so methodically, then rushing home to relieve our mates or the childcare provider charging $10/hour. In this mindset, actual time with our children becomes something to endure, to get through, not an experience to cherish and enjoy.

My mantra for 2011 is "Love Your Lot," meaning-I want to cultivate joy and pleasure in my life experiences, even when they are difficult. And when happiness is not forthcoming, I will find a way to make it happen. I fully expect our move to Durham will initially be challenging, particularly in recreating a social network. I anticipate feeling unconnected, lonely and unsupported for a little while. But there are pleasures to be found in new places and with a clean slate of sorts and I'm committed to seeking them out.

Another major life decision we're considering is having a second child. Now, if I've chosen to be a parent, and not once but twice, I want to devote much of my daily energy to enjoying the experience of parenting. Whereas, I regularly find myself falling into the "I'll be happy when..." trap: I will be happy and fulfilled during nap time or when Matthew gets home so I can go "off duty." Is this the attitude and behavior of someone who appreciates the chosen gift of motherhood? Why would I even consider having a second child if the joys of parenting don't outweigh the pains? I recently gave some frank feedback in an email to a friend considering whether to pursue motherhood:

I felt like I have entered some sort of Zen endurance sport where I have to let go of more and more things every day, only to have them partially replaced with some delightful moments here and there (mostly times when Noah and I are having a magical connection, which happens at least every day). My challenge is to find fulfillment in those moments [and cultivate more of them!] and not begrudge the little losses. I have to learn this lesson every single day, by the way!

I find myself considering how my foremothers and people living in more traditional settings would view these confused experiences with modern mothering. Not that I envy the 15 year old parent slinging her baby on her back and gathering food by hand, but it sure does help me put my own small life in perspective. Did my own mother, raising six kids in the late 70's, 80's and early 90's, even conceive of "me time?" (Feel free to comment, Mom!) Perhaps if I'd become a parent at age 20-or 15!- instead of 31, I wouldn't have had all those years to become accustomed to many hours of "me time" every day and would only know "we time!"

I welcome your thoughts on ways to more fully enjoy parenting.

SAHM

2010-12-31T20:15:00.000-05:00

If you don't know what a SAHM is, you're probably not one! For the first time since my maternity leave with 2 year old Noah, I am a stay at home mom (SAHM). Until we leave for North Carolina (probably mid-February, depends a great deal on when we get our Austin house rented) and I start work at the dance studio there, I'm Noah's primary caregiver while Matthew's at work. We no longer have a nanny and I no longer need to wear heels or hose (ha!-I never wore hose, but I occasionally wore heels, in stark contrast to the SAHM uniform of T-shirts, jeans and comfy shoes!). The first week was a bit rough but I'm proud to be finding peace and a sense of rhythm in my new role.

The major challenge to full time parenting is finding a way to keep a 2 year old active and occupied for many more hours a day. This "let's keep busy" way of being rubs against my more contemplative, let's-find-joy-in-stillness frame of mind. For example, I am not someone who shops as a hobby, meaning I don't go to the mall or Target just to browse and maybe buy something that catches my eye. I shop to buy the very specific items I went in for and I've never much enjoyed even that. Yet, department and grocery stores, unless they have a ton of breakable, precious stuff on the bottom shelves, are great for kids: bright lights, noisy, lots to look at, many people coming and going. Some stores (thank you, Barnes & Noble!) even have giant train sets in their well-appointed children's area and elevators which we ride up and down at least 4 times every visit. We go to shopping areas almost every day now.

Noah's a great city traveler, so we take the car, bike or stroller to parks and playgroups. We also manage the daily household things like grocery shopping for dinner and picking up a "For Rent" sign at Home Depot. It seems there's an endless supply of these little tasks to manage in preparation for the move. Noah goes to Home Depot so much (his Papa is a remodeler, after all) that he calls it by name ("Home Peepo") and knows it by sight. I may be a stay at home mom but this mom doesn't spend a whole lotta time at home!

I've had to find a new schedule for "me" time and have been relishing my hot yoga classes several mornings a week. It gets me in a good space for being loving, present and patient with my little one all day, which is really hard to do. Noah's language skills mean he talks non-stop and I really miss being able to work in a quiet office without interruption. It's hard to maintain a peaceful mind amidst his joyful ruckus! Another benefit of more regular, more challenging yoga is that I'm stronger and 35 lb Noah's requests for "me carry you" are no longer so difficult to fulfill.

I look forward to returning to paid work again but this full time parenting gig is pretty good. Curious to hear any thoughts, reactions you have to the idea of stay at home parenting. For those of you who are SAHMs, what tips or strategies do you employ (pun intended) to maintain your happiness amidst the noise?

Embracing Change

2010-12-13T12:46:00.000-05:00

Matthew and I headed
out on our first big adventure together,
a hiking trip to the Adirondacks,
Summer 1996

I'm a person who thrives on a steady routine with just a splash of excitement. I like knowing that Mondays generally look like this and Saturdays go like that, though I appreciate changing it up now and again with holidays and vacations and plain old spontaneity. I take a long time contemplating major life changes like changing jobs or choosing to become a parent, or, more presently, moving to a new city. Even when the time changes for Daylight Savings Time, I do these mental calculations of what hour it used to be. Talk about clinging to the past!

Maybe it's because Matthew and I decided a few years ago that we would eventually make this move to Durham, maybe it's affirmation that this move is the right next step for us, but I find myself really embracing the change. I'm getting rid of needless clutter with gusto, thanks to Freecycle (where people will happily claim your used neti pot and 10 year old issues of Fine Woodworking magazine). Even in advance of the move, I'm adopting a "change-positive" mindset. For example, I purchased an unlimited pass to a new yoga studio, one that heats the room to 90 degrees and leaves me sweaty and exhilarated after each practice (not to mention sore the next day). This, after attending the same yoga studio for 5 (five!) years. Love ya, Dharma Yoga, but I wanted something new (she shrugs, feigning nonchalance).

Another source of this "change-positive" attitude is our recently meeting with an amazing therapist to address some of those relationship "ruts" that are inevitable after 13 (thirteen!) years together. I wish we'd done this earlier (a good therapist is worth the $100/hour, I know that now). I am truly sorry we can't take our therapist with us to Durham, because he's so skilled and in only a few sessions has helped us to see more clearly what the other needs to feel loved and cherished. Deciding who will take out the garbage or care for Noah on Thursday night is a lot easier when each partner feels appreciated and cared for on a regular basis!

How about you, are you happiest when you're doing something new and novel or are you a Steady Susan?

Fear As Motivation

2010-11-30T21:37:00.000-05:00

For the last week or so, Matthew's been the lone insomniac in this house. He wakes up thinking of the dozens of small but important repairs he needs to make on the house before we're ready to rent it. In contrast, I have found myself sleeping easily as of late (especially now that Noah sleeps 7-8 hour stretches at night). I'm feeling relieved to leave a job that caused me more anxiety and stress than I realized. I'm excited to move forward with this plan that has been a figment of the future for a long time. Knowing our time in Austin is limited, we are enjoying with extra gusto the love and friendship of our Austin "tribe."

But today I woke up at 5:30 and I started thinking about All.the.shit.we.need.to.
do.in.order.to.move. Like, I have to take care of returning that no-good bike trailer but, what did I do with that packing slip?...and we need lots of boxes, we need to start compiling them in earnest, and if we're gonna rent this place out, we need legal documents and what the hell do I know about being a landlord anyway? It was alarming. It was motivating (Got a dozen good boxes on Craigslist and have some lease agreement document templates to work from)!

I think this is the energetic see-saw I'll be riding for the next 2 months, balancing between fear/anxiety and healthy motivation/action. I've always been a huge fan of list-making as a way to organize my thoughts and monitor my progress. But try keeping a running to-do list next to your bedstand when a certain ultra-curious 2 year old thinks small notebooks are just made for drawing in or transporting to random spots.

I could use a mantra to help ground and guide me during this momentous time of change. Got a suggestion? Please share.

Who you calling an insomniac?

Not an insomniatic bone in this body!

Such a Joy, Grandma Joy

2010-11-20T16:30:00.000-05:00

I dropped my Mom off at the airport yesterday morning and I felt only the slightest twinge of sadness instead of the usual huge, big regret that we can't be a part of one another's every day lives. This visit was the first that Noah really bonded with and showed affection for "Grandma Joy." It touched my heart to see them interacting and it strengthened my belief that this move to North Carolina will have some beautiful consequences. The biggest one is that our child(ren) will have loving relationships with grandparents and other caring family members in the region.

Having family nearby will lighten the load of parenting, too. The work of caregiving young children is mainly emotional and I know I get taxed when I don't get frequent breaks throughout the day. My Mom's visit, for instance, meant Matthew and I got to spend an overnight at the lovely The Crossings resort, soaking in the beautiful surroundings and focusing on one another. I'd forgotten the pleasure of waking up in the morning when our bodies have rested enough, talking without interruption and just being quiet together.

Mom's visit helped me to realize a few valuable life skills she's passed on to me just by being who she is:

-how to cook healthfully and with gusto but without spending a lot. Mom's specialty is finding a way to use up foodstuffs, like those dozens of dusty cans or that large jar of grape leaves you purchased 4 years ago because you really like dolmas and thought you might try to make your own someday.

-how to really save money by buying used clothes. We made a fruitful trip to Goodwill this past week, where we got some cold weather clothes, including an LL Bean fleece jacket for $5. Believe it or not, people tell me I'm a good dresser, and I credit thrift stores for 90% of my wardrobe.

-Lighten your load. My Mom lives with hundreds of people in small, shared mobile homes in a community in Western Tennessee. She doesn't have a lot of "stuff," having lightened her load with every move over the past decades. She encourages me to consider what a burden it is to have a lot of belongings. This is especially resonant as we consider the expense of lugging heavy items across the country.

-Screw sentimentality. Mom's told us she's no longer sending gifts for holidays and birthdays. Instead, she chooses to be generous throughout the year, during her visits or whenever we're on her mind. There's a lot to like about this approach. As I mentioned in this post, I'm still sorting out how much I want to observe and appreciate traditions for Noah's sake, but I appreciate the freedom in her way of thinking.

The most complementary thing I can say about my Mom is that everyone is sad to see her go at the end of a visit. I can only aspire to that level of awesomeness.

C-C-C-Changes!

2010-11-10T15:49:00.000-05:00

Matthew and I decided this weekend that we are moving to Durham, North Carolina in January or February of next year. This move has been something we wanted to do "in 2-3 years" for 2-3 years now! In other words, it's something we've thought about in the abstract but some changes at my work mean it's time to make it happen.

My predominant feeling right now is grief, with heavy undercurrents of dread and accents of excitement. We love our community of friends in Austin, and I've been crying nearly every day as I think about leaving them behind. I have enough experience with moving to know it is *such* a pain in the ass. We also have some financial worries around selling or keeping our Austin home, since now is a craptacular time to sell (we're leaning toward renting and I'll be asking my Austin friends to help us find just the right renters).

Talking with my dear friend Tim last night was a mood-lifter. Tim moves to a new city every 3 years or so and seems to relish the fun of new places. He's actually lived in Durham and recounted a few of its most positive elements. Our main motivation for the move is to live nearer to our family (Matthew's Mom lives in Durham, mine lives in Tennessee [Hi, Mom!]). My sister and her family live just 4 hours away in South Carolina, so that means Noah will actually know his cousins.

We'll also be heavily involved with this business, in preparation for taking it over when Matthew's Mom retires in several years. I really look forward to being small business owners and raising Noah and any future children in a setting that celebrates movement and free expression.

This is the first major life change since becoming a parent. Similarly, I remember lying in bed while pregnant and musing about what my life would be like 1 year from today. I wonder...

Encourage me!-Share your stories of moves that changed your life for the better.

Happy Halloween?

2010-10-31T15:00:00.000-04:00

This Sunday is Halloween, a holiday I don't feel much excitement about. Cheap plastic costumes from China, an excuse for otherwise meek adult women to wear ridiculously sexualized fetish gear, large quantities of high-fructose corn syrup delights-really, what's to love? Apparently, for the parents I know, there's a lot to love. We've received several invitations to celebrations this weekend.

I suppose I can see how a child would enjoy imagining themselves a cat or a witch and even I enjoy a Butterfinger once in a very great while. It's probably important to share that my family did not celebrate Halloween growing up, for my parents believed it to be a devil-sponsored day incongruent with their evangelical Christian beliefs. So, I'm sure my childhood experience is a major factor in my disinterest. I think I will probably stifle these feelings and fashion Noah a costume next year. For now, he's clueless and we're taking full advantage by going camping on Halloween.

I find myself considering other holidays in a different light this year as well. Pre-parenthood, Matthew and I have been very casual about Thanksgiving and Christmas, not exactly hewing to custom or tradition. We generally share Thanksgiving meal with friends in town and do not travel to be with family. We wouldn't be opposed to spending it with family, but everyone lives many hours away and no one seems too upset by this (non) arrangement. We often travel somewhere interesting to enjoy Christmas with Matthew's Mom. Sometimes we even travel on Christmas day to take advantage of cheaper air fare.

Some of this casualness is because I am a practical person and it seems wrong to celebrate a Christian holiday as a non-Christian. I also find the rampant consumerism quite repugnant.

But it's impossible to grow up in this Christianity-dominant culture without absorbing some of the cozy feelings associated with Christmas-goodwill to all and peace on earth, time with family and sharing gifts and gestures of kindness. I think Noah's on the cusp of beginning to appreciate simple holiday rituals like hanging lights and decorating a tree, giving and receiving gifts, etc. And thinking about teaching him these rituals makes me appreciate the joy they can bring. And for so many, it is a cultural holiday as much as it is a religious one.

While scanning the holiday aisles at Costco recently, I remembered how much I used to love sitting in the darkened living room with only the Christmas tree lights on. At some point the pain-in-the-neck factor overcame the simple joy of hanging lights. I think we'll put some up this year. As a child born on Christmas Eve, Noah will soon have strong feelings about this holiday. I'm beginning to appreciate the weight of my role as his parent, for I will shape many of these feelings. I'm still figuring out my own feelings, obviously!

So Many Blessings, Here's a Big One

2010-10-23T10:00:00.000-04:00

There was a pox upon the household this past week. Noah puked a couple times last Tues, then Wednesday night both Matthew and Carolyn, Noah's nanny, were beginning to feel ill. I thought maybe I'd prevailed (what with my superior immunity and all), but six days later, that virus picked me up and flung me around like a lion playing with a gerbil. I know, in a post promising many blessings, this is an odd way to begin.

I think sometimes experiencing challenges together can bring people closer. When Matthew and Carolyn were both ill on the same day, I stayed home from work and played courier, fetching ginger ale, saltines and those other foodstuffs for the queasy. When I succumbed, Carolyn and Matthew teamed up to provide care for Noah outside of the house so I could sleep without interruption. Yes, we pay her to care for Noah, but more and more, Carolyn is becoming a member of our family.

We all went over to visit Carolyn after her illness. It's obvious to anyone in the room with them just how closely bonded Noah and Carolyn are after 19 months together. I don't get to see this that often because Carolyn arrives after I've left for work and Noah is often napping when I return from work. I've heard of mothers who are uncomfortable when their child lights up in the presence of another caregiver. I don't understand it. I light up when I see how much she loves and knows my child. One of the greatest bonding experiences I have with Matthew is that we each think our child is the funniest, most delightful and interesting human on earth. So it's wonderful to have a third person joining us in our deep love and appreciation (adoration, even) of Noah. As we walked home from her house, Noah cried for a few minutes, saying "I want more Carolyn." Which is what Noah says about his most favorite things on this earth. So precious!

Staring Down a Busy Week

2010-10-11T02:14:00.000-04:00

This coming week is one of the busiest ones for me at work. We have dozens of volunteers coming in all week to make fundraising calls to more than 5,000 people. If things are going well, several hundred of the people we call will make donations and require follow-up, personalized thanks, documentation for their records, etc. It's a damn good problem to be busy in the realm of nonprofit fund raising.

Yet this work-and this week in particular-can also be pressure-filled and intense. Can it also be enjoyable? That's what I'm flirting with today. I know my expectations color and shape my real experiences, so I'm trying to reshape my thoughts for the week. Can I find humor and levity in the chaos?

The experience is but one example of something I'm considering a lot lately-when is struggle beneficial, a sign of growth and an opportunity for positive change, and when is it evidence that you're doing the wrong thing with your life? I've had a few experiences when work didn't feel like effort, it just flowed effortlessly and easily. I've read and heard other say that they love, love, love their work, that it feels like a calling of sorts and they would do it even if they didn't need a paycheck. I haven't ever felt that way in a work setting.

Then there's the other "work" of parenting, which often feels rewarding and fun but just like fund raising work, is often pressure-filled and intense. I have to believe that I am cut out for the work of motherhood, for what recourse do I have?-hee!

I'm leaning toward believing the old Abraham Lincoln saw that says, "Most people are about as happy as they set their minds to be." And so, for this week at least, I am setting my mind to "happy."

Desperately Seeking Quiet

2010-09-21T15:57:00.000-04:00

I find myself hungering for quiet and solitude lately. Maybe it's because we took Noah on his first camping trip this past weekend and, while it was decent fun, it wasn't the sort of soul-resetting quiet I remember from past wilderness experiences. It wasn't wilderness at all, it was a city park with people and cars and lights all around and a line of port-a-potties within eyesight of the tent opening. Most camping experiences in Texas, even those to more exotic locations like Big Bend have proved a little bit disappointing in this way.

I like living in the city but I need more opportunities to be alone in nature. I don't have any place like this, actually. I feel this more acutely right now because life with Noah is stimulating and noisy, a pretty constant-except-when-he's-sleeping noisiness. And neediness. I wish I had just one easy-to-reach place where I could be truly alone with my thoughts, to breathe in the suddenly much cooler autumn air and feel the breeze on my skin.

I don't have a solution, though my positive thinking mindset tells me I can do more to cultivate quiet from within and to enjoy the little experiences in nature. Yeah, maybe.

Would You Like A Squealing, Happy Child With Your Order?

2010-09-06T01:00:00.000-04:00

The Young-Williamson clan had dinner tonight at Phil's Ice House, a burger n fries joint. I am not a fan of burgers and heavy, starchy foods in general, so I don't plan to eat there again. Except (cue squealing brakes)- they have a playscape. And beer! That means I'll probably go there at least once a month.

Since becoming a parent, I have entirely different standards for restaurants and other businesses I frequent than I did pre-Noah. Places where I can let Noah roam and play while I eat and drink or converse with my honey and/or pals are at the very top of my list, even if the food or atmosphere is only mediocre. Business settings oriented to children give me peace of mind for the short period of time we are there and I need as many of those experiences as I can get!

Here are some of the places we patronize and not because we adore the products:

Central Market
Phil's Ice House
Ruta Maya Coffeehouse
Barnes n Noble/Arboretum area (great train set in the children's area, and escalators are a always a hit for the toddler set)
Triangle Restaurants and Park (fountain makes for much water fun while we eat Mandola's take-out on the grassy green)

We also visit a lot of parks and pools (at least until they closed last week, cuz you know how summer is over in Austin these days-NOT!). I have developed a keen eye for great vs mediocre playgrounds and parks and I am grateful that my child encourages me to be outside most days.

In contrast, settings where I feel my child is a burden or disturbing the quiet, or likely to break stuff, or the wait for our food is long, are places we avoid completely. It took us a few miserable experiences to learn this lesson, but most restaurants are not well-suited to Noah's attention span. And it sucks to have to wolf your meal down or eat alone while one parent takes the kiddo outside.

You know, as we find our groove as parents, as we grow deeper and deeper in love with our little boy, we know what settings are a good fit for who he is at this particular moment in time. The "right" kid-appropriate settings bring him great joy and pleasure, and that, in turn, makes us very content. As I feel greater ease in this role of parent, I find that I miss those "adult" places less and less.

And no, so far I have not been desperate enough to visit a McDonald's so that Noah could enjoy their playscape.

Monkey Mind

2010-08-26T17:11:00.000-04:00

I have been having flashes of insight into just how scattered and unfocused my thinking is most hours of the day. Maybe it's a result of joining a sitting group for meditation. For 45 minutes every other week I experience true stillness and I think that allows me to see more clearly just how "unstill" I tend to be most other times.

There's a certain amount of multi-tasking and near-constant movement that goes into parenting a toddler, that's the truth. But I also choose to respond to stimuli when I don't really need to, especially that of the electronic variety. There is always more email, tweets, text messages, news updates, blog posts, and so on...but I don't have to react to 90% of it. It's mildly gratifying to try, but it's also quite draining.

I'm reminded that there's a greater gratification-one of peacefulness and serenity- in doing one thing at a time and really savoring the task at hand. I realized this last week when I was culling duplicate names and addresses from a gigantic 13,000 listing mailing list at work. The only way to get it done was to focus, focus, focus. Each day I worked on it, my mouse hand hurt, my forearms ached and my eyes were dizzy and tired from concentrating so completely. But I left work each day with a sense of achievement and maybe even something approaching pride. Aha!

The idea for this blog post actually came while I was practicing yoga one afternoon during Noah's nap. Yoga is such a precious and healing practice for me, and it's precious in part because it can be difficult to make it happen. There I was, deep in a juicy twist, blissed out and breathing fully. It took a lot of effort to not go directly to the computer and write this post! Because sometimes I have a great idea and then I lose it...I resisted, but 15 minutes later the mailman dropped mail in the postal box (the only thing more titillating than the possibility of something wonderful in my inbox is the possibility of something wonderful in my postal mailbox!). A (very loud, insistent) part of my brain told me to "Get.Up.Immediately!" and go see what was there. Again, I resisted, but barely.

Then I heard the "ding" of my cell phone announcing a text message! People who meditate often describe beneficial changes to the "monkey mind," that part of our brain that leaps mindlessly from one half-finished thought to the next, over and over, day in and day out. The tools of modernity are wonderful in so many ways but they reward and deepen this monkey mindset because they produce non-stop noise (literaly and figurative). One goal of meditation is sit in stillness and allow ourselves the gift of quiet.

I'm taking small steps toward more daily mindfulness. At work, I'm trying to finish projects before I open a new task, to limit the number of times I check email in a day. It's kind of like being on a stimulation diet.

"Big Boys" and Oblivious Moms

2010-07-31T21:23:00.000-04:00

Stage note: Thursday morning, 7:50 am. Matthew's putting Noah into his high chair for breakfast, I'm 4 steps from heading out the door for work.

Noah: Snap! (he enjoys repeating the sound the belt buckles make when they come together)

Matthew: No, you're such a big boy, you don't need the safety belt on.

Me: (only half hearing the conversation) Hey, I think we should avoid the 'big boy' language. I don't like how it's used to shame and train kids to act as adults want them to act. You know,'Big boys don't cry,' etcetera.

Matthew: Okaaay... Noah, you are a physically large toddler with considerable capabilities. As such, you don't need to wear the safety belt of your high chair.

Now that put a smile on my face as I headed out into the world!

Mother Gone Wild

2010-07-26T09:51:00.001-04:00

I'm coming off a blissful weekend sans Matthew and Noah. I feel a little funny saying that since I really do love and enjoy their company, but it's also true that the family life can kinda crimp my style. You know what I'm sayin?! Put your hands in the air, mamas!

I am totally down with the wading pool-Central Market playground-playgroup-outdoor music concert circuit that frames our daily routine this summer. It feels right that Matthew and I have made changes to our lifestyle that show respect for Noah's needs as a toddler. I think a consistent routine helps him feel safe and secure, getting enough sleep helps him regulate his energy and emotions (same as for you and me, really), and spending time in places where he is free to explore, touch, express himself without being shushed, etc. means he learns that he belongs in this world.

But you can see how this schedule and structure might feel a little confining over time?

I fondly remember the more rollicking and less structured good times of my life pre-motherhood. I miss being able to wander my way through errands, to go ahead and finish the final chapter of that delicious book, to generally not be so oriented to the clock.

So this weekend, when presented with 60 hours of "me" time (yes, I counted), I gorged on all the activities one cannot enjoy with a toddler. I saw a movie in an actual theatre, I slept 9 uninterrupted hours each night, went tubing on the Guadalupe River, got a long massage, ate good food in a chi-chi restaurant...Oh, man, I really filled my cup.

Today I'm gorging on a different set of pleasures: hugging a wriggly, naked boy with wild hair in bed this morning (er, that would be Noah, not Matthew), watching Noah enjoy a peach for the first time and just soaking up the precious energy this child brings to our world.

It's a good life.

Remembering Dad #2

2010-07-25T01:00:00.000-04:00

My yoga teacher Keith had an interesting proposal for this morning's class. Let's pretend this is our last yoga class ever: what would you want to experience? We each offered a pose or a principle we hoped to express (heart opening, stillness, loving kindness through partner poses, etc) and Keith artfully wove our requests together during class. The most unusual request was "hugasana," but that tells you something about how sweet and special the students are at Dharma Yoga. Keith's greater message was to live today as if we might die suddenly.

His message is a heavy one for me right now, on the cusp of the 2nd anniversary of my Dad's death (I've talked about Dad before here). Dad did die suddenly at age 59, most likely of a heart attack, while swimming laps in a community pool. I inherited a deeply practical side from Dad so I can appreciate how his death could be described as "perfect." He was doing something he enjoyed, he had returned that morning from a positive visit with his dying mother (whose long, drawn out death in a nursing home was absolutely not what he would have wanted for himself), he was living out his lifelong dream of living in a loving and intentional community, and so on and so forth. We're all gonna die someday (or so says Kasey Chambers), and this was not a bad way to go.

But when I'm not feeling practical or particularly serene at the prospect of my loved ones' sudden deaths, it evokes a lot of fear and anxiety for me. Matthew and Noah are spending time with Grandma Bepi in North Carolina this weekend. It tears me up to think about either of them dying and somehow their being away from me makes death seem more possible than if they were near. Ridiculous, I know.

Like other times when I feel riled with fear or worry beyond the scope of anything I can fix, I breathe in and out (something I can control) and let it run its course.

Keith read the following poem; I like that it makes me laugh even as it touches on the serious:

NOTICE

by Steve Kowit

This evening, the sturdy Levi's
I wore every day for over a year
and which seemed to the end
in perfect condition,
suddenly tore.
How or why I don't know,
but there it was: a big rip at the crotch.
A month ago my friend Nick
walked off a racquetball court,
showered,
got into this street clothes,
and halfway home collapsed & died.
Take heed, you who read this,
and drop to your knees now & again
like the poet Christopher Smart,
and kiss the earth & be joyful,
and make much of your time,
and be kindly to everyone,
even to those who do not deserve it.
For although you may not believe
it will happen,
you too will one day be gone,
I, whose Levi's ripped at the crotch
for no reason,
assure you that such is the case.
Pass it on.

2010-07-06T10:36:00.000-04:00

The Universe is teaching me to plan less and enjoy more. That’s my only conclusion after this week of foiled plans and unexpected happenings. Rain soaked most of Noah's and my playgroups this week, but that also meant it was cool enough to go for stroller walks in the afternoon. I have been struggling to find opportunities to exercise in this heat, so there was the elegant solution to that.

I learned the office was closing early for the holiday weekend but not until that Friday morning. Had I known, I would have filled the extra two hours with errands or lunch with a friend, but since it was so last minute, I got to check out my friend Laura’s lovely new office space instead, something I’ve been wanting to do for a few months now.

And finally, I found myself watching beautifully intense fireworks on the 4th of July with a tremendously fun band, T-Bird and the Breaks, playing nearby. I had actually planned to not attend the fireworks (they’re so late…too many people…the traffic coming home…would Noah even enjoy them?), but in just going with the flow of the afternoon, we found ourselves in a perfect viewing spot (the old Seaholm Power Plant) at about 7 pm. Noah was loving the live music, we were lying on a blanket in the shade-it just made sense to stick around. Even though it meant eating less-than-wholesome tamales from a truck and barely scrounging enough water to withstand the heat, we had a ton of fun.

I need these reminders that planning for fun is sometimes like rehearsing spontaneity; it just doesn’t work that way.

And then one day they’re weaned

2010-06-28T10:05:00.000-04:00

I think Noah’s had his last nursing. It’s been three days since he’s asked to nurse, the longest stretch by far. All signs were pointing in this direction and I’m mostly glad about it. Whether I’m glad or not, it’s an inevitable process and I’m happy that it ended with his say-so, almost exactly 18 months after we began.

I cherished our time together at the breast, but I more fondly remember the early months and less fondly the last few months. As a newborn, he was all mouth –rooting and crying as his primary means of communicating his need to eat. I loved coming home from work in the early afternoon and collapsing together in our rocker chair, both limp with mutual relief after what felt like a too-long time apart. The hormones of nursing were so amazing – they lightened the effects of sleep loss, they made my seasonal allergies go away, they seemed to add a certain loveliness to my world. I miss them!

As my milk supply dwindled over the last several weeks, nursing felt more and more uncomfortable, and I experienced Noah’s “requests” more like demands: he’d pound my chest with his still-small hand while making a request noise over and over. He’d express frustration that there wasn’t more milk.

And part of me feels sad to say goodbye to this special, sweet experience we’ve shared for all of his little life. While I at times experienced breastfeeding as a special burden of my sex, and even lamented the unfairness of it to my husband, I more truthfully experienced it as a unique opportunity to bond exclusively with my baby. No one else could give him my breast.

His dwindling desire to nurse very closely correlates with his increased desire to be with Da Da (daddy), so it’s not hard to see the positive there. I think parenting Noah just became a much more even endeavor for Matthew and me.

There’s a song I’ve heard Nanci Griffith sing, though I don’t know that she wrote it. It’s clearly written for a daughter but the sentiment is so profound it hardly matters. I would tear up hearing this song even before I had a child and now I feel its meaning on an even deeper level. We are raising our babies toward greater and greater independence; how beautiful and sad.

Where are you going, my little one, little one,
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two,
Turn around and you're four,
Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door.
Turn around, turn around,
Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door.

Where are you going, my little one, little one,
Little dirndls and petticoats, where have you gone?
Turn around and you're tiny,
Turn around and you're grown,
Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own.
Turn around, turn around,
Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own.

Shit Happens. So Does Grace.

2010-05-17T23:30:00.000-04:00

I took another trip out to the Hill Country this last weekend. This trip had a decidedly different feel than did the bachelorette party at a dude ranch earlier in the month. Matthew's mother came in from Durham, NC and we rented a cabin on the Llano River. Matthew and I had been there two years before when I was pregnant. Cue the "let-the-circle-remain-unbroken" soundtrack. I don't think I really envisioned then what our bean in the pod might be like as a real, live human, but I liked to think about introducing them to quiet and beautiful places in nature.

And this is a quiet and beautiful place, except for the loudness of one particular 17 month old human! We enjoyed black, black nights and good-smelling wood burning in a chimenea stove. The water was a wee bit cold for swimming but I managed one refreshing dip and just witnessing a wide expanse of river is soul-soothing for me. Noah's favorite loves right now are rocks, throwing and water, so he had all he needed for a marvelous time.

We also brought our pooches: Lilly and Chula. Anyone who knows me knows I love seeing my dogs free to do what dogs do: track critters, run, roll wildly in mud and sit calm and alert while keeping watch over the horizon.

Those beloved dogs played a central role in ensuring a most unpleasant end to our mini-vacation, however: 8 am Sunday found us packing hurriedly and leaving without even breakfast or coffee(!). Matthew took the dogs and Noah down to the river early that morning so that his mother and I could sleep in and the dogs took up with a porcupine. I'd say they lost that particular battle, judging from the 200 + quills decorating the insides of their mouths when they returned to the cabin. The insides of their mouths, did you get that? Hundreds of quills, did I already say that? It looked like a pin cushion in there, something straight out of a horror movie.

Actually, the procedure where the vet yanked them out one by one with pliers did look like a scene from a horror movie (the dogs were sedated for that procedure). I will spare you the visual on this because I'm still recovering (Google will supply you with all kinds of images if you're curious). And because I'm a sick woman, I saved the quills and the bloody gauze pad on which the vet laid them. They're on my desk now in a Ziplock bag.

If there is a lesson to be learned, it might be that shit happens. Cliche, I know, but I spent too long stewing over what a rotten, terrible end this was to our long-planned getaway (the plan being to get away from the stressors of everyday life, except, damn it- there are stressors in the countryside, too!). A more grace-full response would have saved me a few hours of needless irritation and disappointment. A more graceful response would have allowed me to chuckle at the antics of two city dogs in the country and feel grateful for a kind vet willing to see us right away. A more graceful response would have been to say: "Man, this will be a great story for my blog!"

Getaway!

2010-05-10T21:08:00.000-04:00

I got away this past weekend. I took to the Hill Country for an overnight with girlfriends at a dude ranch and it was fuuuun! It marked a bit of a milestone, my first overnight away from Noah. When I first learned of the gathering a few months back, I felt certain I couldn't go. Two whole nights away from my still nursing baby seemed too darn long. I let the idea percolate for many weeks, and when I learned there was a single overnight option, I realized I really wanted to do it.

My dear pal E is getting married this Fall, so the weekend was a bachelorette party of sorts. I got to meet the pretty swell gals she calls her own, and it says a lot about someone when all her friends -from childhood, even - are interesting, kind and fun. There were horses and wildflowers and cute ranch hands in chaps hungry for lady company. I reckon they tire of hoisting boy scout after sweaty boy scout on to the horses...Did I mention E's friends are all hot women in their 20s and 30s?

As I drove out on Saturday morning, listening to CDs of a band I used to enjoy seeing live in late night clubs, I felt free. I really miss that deep independence of my life pre-motherhood, being able to lose myself in a book or deep conversation, to see an activity through to the end instead of always being aware of the fleeting moments before Noah awakens or cries out for me from the backyard sandbox. And I miss turning the music up loud!

All told, I was gone just 30 hours or so, long enough to recharge and really look forward to seeing my little cherub. He was glad to see me, too, no worse for the separation. I'm wondering already about my next getaway...

A Blowhard Bikes to Work

2010-04-22T19:20:00.000-04:00

If I'm very, very conscientious and all the stars align just so, I bike ride to work twice a week (otherwise, it's about one ride per week). I have to laugh at myself because I try to use the ride as an opportunity to breathe deeply and set intentions for a successful day but sometimes what transpires is a little less holy. I offer you a glimpse of my internal dialogue while bicycling to work this morning: I am breathing in all the positive and breathing out all the negative, 1 breath in and out, 2 breath in and out, 3 breath in and -oh my god, did that car really just blow that red light? Motherfuckers! What could be so important that you'd risk people's lives to get to?! Do you want my child to grow up without a mother?!

4 breath in and out, 5 breath in and out-man, why did I wear a long skirt? It's getting caught in the gears.

6 breath in and out, 7 breath in and out. Excuse me, would you walk in front of a car going 15 miles an hour? Why would you walk in front of a bike going that same speed?

8 breath in and out, 9 breath in and out...Why are you driving such a large vehicle? Does global warming mean nothing to you? Look at me, I'm on a bike! And you're trying to run me over with your gas guzzler; this is wrong on a cosmic level!

Yeah, it's hard being holy. I give up.

PS. The photo is a little deceptive in that I don't bike to work with Noah in a trailer. That's our arrangement for going to the park after work and on the weekends. Or, just as often, the bakery.

Loving Learning

2010-04-14T14:30:00.000-04:00

We've begun introducing Noah to some basic toileting concepts lately. He's only 15.5 months so we're being pretty relaxed about it -offering him the potty after breakfast, letting him roam around naked on the porch and pointing out when he makes a deposit. You haven't lived until you've tracked your very active, naked child's every movement for an hour after breakfast, waiting for him to make his morning poop and hoping it's not on the couch!

I think good parenting involves really knowing your child, observing them and offering opportunities to help them grow and learn. It's fascinating to think about the many layered steps to toileting, for example. First, you have to recognize that you make poop and pee (it doesn't just magically appear in your diaper). Then you have to notice the bodily sensations that accompany making poop and pee, and even the sensations that come before you make poop and pee (so you can get to a toilet on time, even if there's a line)! Getting to a potty, putting the seat up and your pants down...that's pretty advanced stuff if you think about it.

I mean, learning how to use a toilet is a pretty necessary skill for these modern times and that practical mindset is my primary motivation for introducing toilet learning. What's surprised me is seeing how much joy Noah experiences when he does something new and different. Beyond recognizing his poop as his own special contribution to the world, his latest learning includes how to walk off of curbs without going backwards on his hands and knees, calling for "W-A-T-E-R" when he's thirsty, and heading down the park slide without trepidation and without my help. It's an amazing thing to see a human grow; it might be the most satisfying element of parenthood.

I feel that same rush of exhilaration and joy when I master a tricky technical challenge at work and I remember the fun of learning throughout my 20 years as a student. I think there's opportunity for me to experience the world with more of a child's mind and I think Noah might be a great guide on this journey. Quick, what's the last thing you learned?

Sick Day

2010-03-30T13:11:00.000-04:00

I took the day off from work today. I can't do that without feeling guilty, questioning whether I'm sick enough to warrant not working. I know there's something from my childhood creeping in, but I'm not sure what. My mom was almost never sick (how could she be, with six kids?), my Dad frequently suffered migraines and depressive episodes that kept him in a darkened bedroom for a day or two every few months, we kids had only the minor and usual illness of childhood.

I think it's based in fear of letting co-workers down or appearing weak or unreliable. There's a little part of me that can be judgmental in this way, wondering if frequently ill folks aren't just a little bit wimpy in the face of minor physical ailments. The flip side of judging others, it seems, is that that same critical eye gets directed inward, to no good effect.

Fortunately, my sicknesses tend to be one to two day spells of environmental allergies (damn you, grass pollen!), replete with intense sinus pressure, runny nose and body aches. Living in Austin, the city frequently listed at the top of the pollen charts on Pollen.com, suffering allergies are the price I pay for 80 degrees and sunny weather in March (not a hypothetical weather forecast, by the way).

So I'm relaxing at home today, surfing the Internet and sipping Texas Medicinal tea. I crawl into bed when I feel like it and am trying my hardest to honor and not berate this body when it tells me it needs rest.

What are your feelings about sick days?

It Feels Good to Give!

2010-03-28T18:28:00.000-04:00

Many of you know I work in the field of nonprofit fundraising, which means much of my professional energy is spent motivating people to give charitable gifts. I will admit to being less than charitable myself, in terms of number of dollars donated. It seems cliche, I know, but I've fallen into the logic that says working for little pay to promote social good is charitable enough. Besides, I don't perceive myself to be wealthy enough to give.

I've been re-thinking this belief lately, for a few reasons. It no longer feels as true; I earn an upper middle class income and enjoy a lot of luxuries I could do without (we're talking frequent meals out and a too-big HD TV, not monthly vacations or second homes). More on that TV in a moment.

Also, it feels disingenuous to ask others to give money when I'm not doing the same. As a Bible-verse-memorizing youth, I've always had a special distaste for the sin of hypocrisy* (a joke - mostly).

And finally, I struck a bargain with Matthew in hopes of squelching his purchase of that too-big HD TV: I told him I would gift the same amount he spent on the TV to the charity of my choice. Long story short, I recently found myself in the very fun position of deciding how to spend $375.

I blew the first $100 within two days. A fellow yogini shared that she had recently lost her job and was feeling pretty despondent about the likelihood of finding a new one. I anonymously bought her a 10 class pass.

The last of the money went toward the start-up costs for a new charity, Parking Mobility. This is an organization that addresses the issue of parking options for people with disabilities in the US and Canada. It is also a brilliant social enterprise that I want to see hit the big time, as it uses the best of cell phone technology to address the social problem of people violating disabled parking restrictions. This might seem like a minor matter, but at its core these violations trample the right of disabled people to get out and about and live their lives as freely as people without disabilities.

I "presented" the check to my good friend Craig, co-founder of Parking Mobility, over dinner the other night. Now this is a feel-good habit I don't want to break. I'd like to become more intentional about our charitable giving this year.

I'm curious to hear about your experiences with charitable giving, too.

*Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye. -Matthew 7:3-5

Making a Wee Change

2010-03-21T18:28:00.000-04:00

After ten years with the same short haircut (see "before" photo), I'm growing my hair out. My apologies to this anonymous person off internetlandia whose hair I am coveting, but this is the look I'm going for. What do you think?

I'm under hairdresser's orders to not return for at least four months, and to not expect much even at that point. So far the dreaded "in-between' stage hasn't been so shaggy or unkempt; I've enjoyed the minor changes. I'm on the lookout for a pretty barrette as my new accessory.

It feels good to change things up, even in this frivolous kind of way. I've talked before about how motherhood seems to require constancy and stability, and that can feel a little boring to me. Even a little adjustment adds some welcome variety. Here's to little changes!

Please Don't Let it be a Phase!

2010-03-04T00:14:00.000-05:00

Motherhood has become so rewarding in the last month. I don't think I swallowed a rainbow with a sunshine chaser, or otherwise had a major change of perspective, perhaps the change is on Noah's side of things. This isn't to say that motherhood has been unrewarding thus far, just that Noah and I are more in sync than ever before. Yes, the sleeping longer stretches at night is a huge (huge!) help, and there's a predictability in his schedule and temperament that allows me to make plans and actually see them through. Mainly, though, he's had this explosion of abilities in communication and expression. Some of these expressions are to tell me he wants "nana" (banana) for breakfast, and "look, there's a plane in the sky!," my favorites are of joy, laughter and affection.

Being such an active observer of his growth helps me appreciate how amazing it is that we ever learn to talk!, and walk! It's probably not interesting to anyone but Matthew and me, but I saw Noah "get" weight transfer, you know-that process when you step off of a curb and transfer most of your weight to one leg before the other leg joins it. When I say, "We need to get you some shoes, mister," he looks down at his feet and heads off in the direction of his shoes. It is such a fun experience to watch the neurons grow.

I really love our bedtime ritual right now, which involves Matthew or me laying with Noah in the dark in his futon bed on the floor. When it's my turn, we might nurse a little , but eventually he pops off and begins his bedtime calisthenics-he bends and rolls, murmurs and chirps, handling and even mouthing his favorite soft "blankie" all the while. Occasionally, we'll share a giggle as he puts his fist into my mouth for a tender bite, but mostly this is a solo process. I'm there for comfort but this is his bedtime. I like to close my eyes, too, but sometimes before getting up, I stare at my just-fallen-asleep son and wonder if it ever gets better than this.

Does Motherhood = B-O-R-I-N-G?

2010-02-21T13:35:00.000-05:00

Last month, Noah hated being in the bike trailer, eating apples and having his diaper changed. This month, he likes going for rides in the trailer, will eat an apple about every other time I offer him one, and tolerates diaper changing. It inspires me to consider what elements of self are truly fixed and to remember to keep offering him choices that he might have previously rejected.

I first experienced discomfort saying "Noah is... (outgoing, independent, expressive)" when I was adding captions to a photo book of his first year. They were intended as gifts for his grandmothers who don't see him all that often, so I wanted the captions to fill in the gaps of their knowledge of Noah, to tell them who he is. I realized Noah is changing so frequently that it's difficult to define him. Only the passing of time will help me discern which of his behaviors are an expression of one fleeting developmental stage versus a true personality trait. This much mercurialism in an adult would be grounds for a mental disorder diagnosis, but its seems to be the natural state of the one year olds I encounter in playgroups most days.

Children's openness to change is what makes parenting so fun-and so challenging. I can't help, though, but lament the way motherhood has made me more entrenched in a notion of self that is stable and unchanged from day to day. In other words, successful mothering seems to require overarching consistency- adopting an evenness in my responses to Noah, adhering to a schedule, and developing genuine interest in really minute details (eating, pooping, sleeping, new words, is that snot clear or green?) of my child's existence .

This micro focus and sameness to the days can make my world feel awfully small. It's not that I spend much time lamenting the ways motherhood has made me b-0-r-i-n-g, but I notice it flare up when I revisit an activity of my old life, like staying out late to hear live music in a beer-soaked club (which happened this week!). I remember the fun and spontaneity of my 2os, when a night out with friends could lead to anything (ok, I'm being dramatic here)- arguing politics with strangers, howling in laughter with girlfriends, cutting up a rug on the dance floor, and even, very occasionally, skinny dipping. There was a timelessness to that era; the only consequence of coming home late was having to work the next day through a hangover. Now, I almost always have my eye on the clock-planning ahead for nap time, for meals, for babysitter curfew (paying $12 an hour for childcare puts an end to those truly late nights)...

It won't always be this way, and honestly, I'd mostly stopped staying out late long before Noah came along. It feels good in a nostalgic sort of way to remember this former self and to consider how I might invite her into my life now and again, as a weekend guest, perhaps?

Dog Is My Co-Pilot

2010-02-07T13:21:00.000-05:00

Have you heard the joke about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac who sits around all night arguing about whether there is a "dog?"

I had a breakfast reunion last weekend with my "accountability group" from 2008. I prefer to think of us as a goal-setting group because "accountability" has a negative, punitive connotation in my mind. In actuality, our group of four women was a wonderful source of positive support- we met for three months in 2008, setting personal and professional life goals and meeting regularly to share progress and setbacks.

It was really heartening to hear all that has transpired in our lives in the year since we met last. Each of us finds ourselves in a place of stability and contentment, but in ways that are not obvious outcomes of our goals and plans from 2008. In sharing update s, we used common phrases like, "perfect timing," or "I was ready to do X, but then Y opportunity appeared." For me, this conversation strengthens the idea that intentions are perhaps more useful guideposts than goals. Intentions allows for greater openness to forces outside myself, and the freedom to change course when necessary.

But intentions also suggest that sometimes we don't know what's best for ourselves. Does that mean the blessings (and setbacks) of my life should be credited to some nebulous force like "the universe," or "fate," or even, "God?" I'm not opposed to these entities, but I want to believe I'm at least a co-pilot of my life (maybe even captain?)- that my decisions, behaviors, and even thoughts influence the course of my life. Like with so many big and difficult questions in life, I'm becoming more comfortable saying "both/and" rather than "either/or." How about you, how do you assign credit and blame for the good and bad of your life?

What a Craptastic Week!

2010-01-25T15:47:00.001-05:00

It was a tough week and an especially bad Friday. I don't know if the challenging circumstances led to my crappy mood or if my crappy mood meant everything was challenging; probably a bit of both.

Let me give you a visual, if I may: I committed to making lasagna for a new mama friend. Before I can even begin that task, I'm confronted with a sink full of dishes and a dishwasher full of clean ones. Get that? In order to even begin making a meal I have to first unload the dishwasher and fill it again, just to have a clean sink and counter space. Thanks, dear husband (to his credit, it was his first day up after lying in bed for two days feeling like "hot doodoo on a stick)". When I gain just an ounce of perspective and hush the "poor me" refrain in my head, I applaud all those who manage as a single parent.

Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I soldiered on in the kitchen. Must.make.lasagna, although all signs point to "stop." There is a moment when I am pouring hot! tomato sauce into a baking dish while Noah pulls on my pants leg, screaming to be picked up and reaching for the stove dials. Meanwhile, both dogs are barking loudly to be let in. The kitchen and every other room in the house is scattered with cottonballs from the bathroom, Noah's latest idea of a good time. Where is the joy in this scene? Alas, there was none to be found. I only hope my negative energy wasn't absorbed into the meal, a la "Like Water for Chocolate!" Please join me in noting the irony of preparing a gift for someone when the giving experience is rife with struggle and strain. Sigh...

Sometimes a crappy day just needs to end, letting the "tincture of time" work its magic. Other times I think there is value in revisiting the episode. Maybe I can identify the true source of my frustration and do something different to prevent times like this. Because I don't like feeling tense and pissed off; it makes my body sore and my breathing shallow, and oh yeah, I can be a colossal bitch to everyone around me.

What was really going on:
1. I came into the scene upset. Earlier that afternoon, an office mate came to me complaining about a client who was breastfeeding her baby in the waiting area. Office mate wanted me to move the nursing woman to an office or somewhere where she wouldn't be so visible. She seemed upset with me when I said I wouldn't do this and I worried that my response would be taken as yet another slight in a long string of missteps with this person.

2. When Matthew became ill, I could have declared a domestic "emergency" and only tackled essential household tasks-i.e, eating easy meals and leting the dust bunnies gather where they will. I could have shelled out the extra cash and just purchased a tasty meal to show support for my mama friend. Taking on too much never ends well for me...maybe I get it all done, but it costs me dearly.

3. Noah is at an age where his abilities to "do" far outweigh his understanding of a mess as something to avoid. You can see how this might result in a house of disorder, as he moves from room to room "exploring" (emptying cupboards, tipping the dogs' water bowl, opening the toilet lid). It's a new stage and I haven't fully accepted it. A cluttered house is a big source of aggravation for me, and I need to make changes or become more tolerant of mess. If I don't want to search the lawn for my car keys, for example (true story), I should probably find a safer place to store them.

But that was last week and last week is O-V-E-R.

Not a Doll, Nor a Minstrel-This Baby is a Person

2010-01-17T18:50:00.000-05:00

We recently spent several days with Noah's grandmothers in a beach house on the North Carolina shore. We learned from our last travel experience and this time chose a low-key setting with minimal car travel and not a whole lot to do besides watch ocean waves. I admit had a fantasy in mind - that with two loving and attentive grandmothers on tap, Matthew and I might luxuriate a bit-sleep in late and/or take an afternoon nap, head out to quiet restaurants where children were definitely not welcome, and generally dilute the non-stop responsibilities of caring for a young 'un.

Alas, it was not to be. Noah clung to us (me, especially) and generally rejected most caretaking gestures on the part of the grandmas (thank you for trying, grandmas; there is potential there!). In fact, he was more needy and less independent than he'd been in the many months leading up to the trip, crying whenever I put him down and pitching fits when I'd leave the room. It was draining.

So yeah, I was bummed because the vacation wasn't as relaxing as I thought it would be. Mainly I was disappointed that the grandmothers didn't get to experience the fun and playful Noah I'd promised them through dozens of photos and videos in the weeks leading up to the trip. It's kind of like when you host a dinner party and bring together two sets of friends that you are sure will get along smashingly, except the conversation is stilted and the two groups mainly keep to their own sides of the room-not the end of the world, by any means, but not the synergistic love fest you'd hoped for.

At one year of age his anxiety around people he doesn't know well is exactly what is to be expected from a developmental perspective. And his devotedness to us is, at its core, a natural outgrowth of the attachment parenting philosophy we espouse. The experience was a reminder to me to temper my unrealistic, adult-oriented expectations of Noah, that he perform in some way for the benefit of me or others, if only as the happy baby we all love to see. Noah is his own person, with a developing personality and his own set of needs and wants. The creative challenge here is to find ways to honor his needs and my own. Let's just say I am prepared to concede a little-ok, a lot-in this endeavor...

Joy to the World: A Child is Born

2009-12-22T22:04:00.000-05:00

A year ago today my body began preparations to birth Noah. Of course, he didn't have a name then, my ephemeral baby from another realm, and he took a couple of days to fully arrive. I have felt such nostalgia lately, as the weather has changed to winter, the season of his birth, as I listen to the Pandora soundtrack I was listening to then, as Christmas is almost here. I had a sense then that this baby's arrival would change everything, but what could I know? I knew nothing in specifics, it turns out, just that bringing life into this world was a sacred responsibility and I was lucky* to experience it.

And he has changed everything. We are intertwined and in sync on the bodily (cellular?) level. Not an hour goes by that I don't think of him (that's when I'm away from him; when we are together, not a minute goes by that I don't wonder if he's tipping the dogs' water bowl, banging dangerously hard on the window, did I leave the toilet seat up, is he crying?).

Happy almost birthday, my precious, beloved Noah.

*as a chosen pregnancy, in a loving relationship, in the modern world, with all the resources of medicine and the benefits of modern, skillful midwifery

Harmony Within Complexity

2009-12-22T21:00:00.000-05:00

Like most years that we've lived in Austin, Matthew and I enjoyed Thanksgiving with members of our urban tribe. We generally opt against traveling to be with our families for this holiday because it seems too far and so expensive for just one meal. The members of our tribe shift from year to year (expanding, mostly, but we lose folks to attrition, too. While Austin is a place that attracts immigrants, I've noticed a trend where, after a few years or so, many of these folks feel the pull of their hometowns and leave Austin). This year's meal featured more children than ever before, no doubt because we've spawned recently!

Our friends Gray and Peter (Gray, Matthew and I attended tiny Earlham College together ten years ago!) hosted and I counted 7 adults and 4 kids. It was a dynamic gathering, as is the requirement when you have 4 kids under the age of 4 in the same home. We were able to have adult-to-adult conversations over a fantastic meal, but they were frequently interrupted by children in need of redirection, soothing, nursing, a trip to the potty, and so on. I really enjoyed the flow of energy, though, as a beautiful collective spirit developed and we adults tended to whichever child was near and needing attention, whether they were "ours" or not.

As taxing as I find one needy child when I am busy or distracted, the burdens of parenting lessen in a social setting of pooled responsibility and concern. I've experienced this over and over and these experiences help me understand the benefits of more communal living.

Both Matthew and I expressed how enjoyable this gathering was and he remarked that, though it seems contradictory, he thinks the more people there are in a gathering, the easier it is to meet everyone's needs in a harmonious way. I think he's right, so long as there are not any overtly dysfunctional elements. I don't have the social theory to back up this observation, but it rings true to me. It's got us thinking about ways we might increase our sense of connectedness to our community.

Closing Open Doors

2009-12-01T19:01:00.000-05:00

The negative side of being planful (that's me!) is being worrisome, fretful and so future-oriented that I hardly notice the present. I sometimes close off options prematurely in my mind before I even try the experience or let it guide me toward a solution. For examples, when I was pregnant with Noah, I anticipated that I would not continue commuting by bicycle to my job at the clinic because Matthew and I would have tight schedules and very little overlap. There just wouldn't be time. Turns out we found a wonderful nanny and worked out a more relaxed work schedule that allowed me to bike to work as much as I wanted. Laziness was more the obstacle than logistics!

When I changed jobs five months ago to a more professional position located in a fancy office building downtown, I anticipated that I wouldn't continue my bike commute because the ride was a good 15 minutes more each way and how could I wear professional clothing while on a bike? Well, I've found ways to make it work, including wearing running tights under skirts on the cold mornings and packing deodorant in my handbag. I'm managing to bike 1-2 times a week now and I love the benefits, mainly that I show up to work fully oxygenated and I arrive home at 2:30 in the afternoon having had my exercise for the day.

I recently agreed to host my older brother and nephew for ten days. I don't get to see them often and this was a pretty special opportunity to be together. As their arrival time grew near, I found myself feeling worried about the visit. We have a small house with one bathroom-might a 3.5 year old need frequent, immediate access to the toilet to prevent accidents? Our process of nightweaning Noah regularly leads to 40 minute screaming spells at 4:00 am; how can I subject them to that? I get batty when I don't get enough solitude; with Noah sleeping in our bedroom, how will I get the quiet I need to reset my batteries and fill my cup? The concerns just went on and on and on...They hadn't even arrived and I was drinking in a toxic brew of misery and stress.

And now they're here and it's going wonderfully. Imagine what I could have done with all that mental energy had I harnessed it for something positive and actual instead of an imagined doomsday??? Check out the 2 minute video from a recent morning meal:

Wants N' Needs

2009-11-24T16:00:00.000-05:00

My latest parenting challenge has been discerning 11 month old Noah's wants from needs. Until recently, they've been one and the same. He wants to nurse, he needs the nutrients and the comfort he finds at the breast. He wants to be held, he needs the physical closeness and sense of connection. But within the last month it seems clear to me that some of his wants are whims of infanthood, no more a need than my desire to consume most of a pint of ice cream. For examples, he wants (very much!) to throw things into the toilet. He wants (desperately!) to take a drumstick to the dog's hindquarters. He wants (with all his heart!) to pull the knives out of the dishwasher.

And hardest of all for me, he wants to nurse each time he wakes up in the night, sometimes four or more times. I'm having to sort out whether that's a want or a need and how to respond in a way that makes us both content and satisfied.

Then Noah came down with his first illness this past weekend. He stopped eating solids and was feverish and listless, the exact opposite of our energetic Noah. Once Matthew and I realized our poor baby was miserable and unwell, we weren't going to deny him any comfort. For two full nights and day he wanted to nurse every two hours and fall asleep on top of Matthew or me. He cried or whimpered whenever he wasn't asleep.

His wants were all needs again, a return to a simpler parenting experience, for sure. It was draining, on the one hand, to have to give so much emotional and physical energy to my baby during his illness. Yet, in many ways it was easier to just give my child whatever they wanted because it removed the burden of decision-making. I think I may have experienced a moment of parenting insight, just in time for Noah's growing will and independence: It's actually harder to set boundaries and discuss decisions with an unhappy child than it is to let them have whatever they want.

I'm just tapping on the edge of the iceberg with this thought; we'll see where it takes me. I'd appreciate your insights as well.

Let The Gender Training Begin!

2009-11-16T20:44:00.001-05:00

Now and again I find myself fudging the rigid gender barriers of children's clothes-on principle, for sure (why do we engage in this silliness?!), but also in pursuit of a bargain. When I was just a few months pregnant my generous sister Anna gave me forklifts' full of infant boys clothing. She had just had a girl baby and those clothes were no good to her any more. In shades of navy, red and brown (clearly the "manly" section of the color wheel), they featured trucks, shovels and sporting equipment. Without knowing the gender of my unborn babe, I paid to ship a large box home, figuring the kid was wearing them no matter their parts. I'm practical like that.

Noah still wears some of those clothes, but I have had to supplement recently with some cooler-weather items. And you know?, it's difficult to find clothes that are gender-neutral (true for adults, too). Whether a Target, a thrift store, or a fancy, organic-cotton kinda place, they each have their she and he sections and there's not much in between. And the truth is, I'm just not brave enough to face the kind of public scorn (or more generously, the confusion) I would expect by putting Noah in a pink frock.

I am willing, however, to buy a carseat with a yellow and pink floral cover (the "Ashley" model), especially if it's $80 cheaper than all the other seats, and I recently congratulated myself for a most clever sale-seeking triumph. I bought Noah his first pair of shoes from the girls shoes section because the only sale item in his size was found there. I mean, are 10 month old boy feet any different than 10 month old girl feet?-No, they aren't. Noah's sporting a pair of chocolate brown sneakers that I hope will support him well once his new walking habit really takes off.

Cliche, but True- It Takes a Village

2009-10-17T14:29:00.001-04:00

Several of my friends have announced first time pregnancies in the past few months. I find myself bubbling up with joy and congratulations and biting back the avalanche of advice I am so tempted to offer. A little usually trickles out, though (and if they ask, I do not hold back...).

I'm happy to chat about baby gear-what's useful and what's useless, breastfeeding and cloth diapering basics, but what I really want new moms to know is the importance of community. Parenting is wonderful, fulfilling and hard. It's not hard all the time, in my experience, but just challenging enough that I need support, insight and camaraderie with others on a daily basis. I find all of this in a community of people who practice Attachment Parenting (AP) in Austin.

My relationship with these 350 people (mostly mamas, but there are some papas, too, and I don't actually interact with more than 40 or so people) is both virtual and in-person. We discuss all manner of parenting online (with a delightful sprinkling of off topic items as well) and meet up for weekly playgroups and monthly happy hours. It's only natural that these friendships deepen and expand outside the formal boundaries of the group as people find the parents who live nearby, whose children have the same quirks, schedules, behavioral issues, interests or specialized diets, and most importantly, whose parenting styles are aligned with their own. I find the people I have met through the AP community are becoming more and more integral to my life; they are becoming my genuine friends.

Even within a community that is inspired by common values, such as the eight principles of attached parenting, there is diversity in how families live these principles (I am not a co-sleeper, for example, a common practice among AP families). I am enlightened every day for being exposed to the different ways people live out these values. What I have found to be common among the AP people whom I have met is that they are conscious about their parenting. They want to be deeply bonded to their child(ren) and they appreciate that each one is a precious individual with unique needs. This makes for such rich conversation because even as we offer up feedback to one another, they take the flavor of IMHE, YMMV ("In my humble experience, your mileage may vary"). I appreciate this because we recognize that the behaviors and tools that allow one parent to successfully parent one child may not be the right ones for another child raised by a different parent (or even the same parent!).

On a practical note, I find myself reading about toddler tantrums, learning difficulties in school settings, helping a child who hits learn more peaceful behavior--issues I am not experiencing right now with 10 month old Noah. But I might!, and so it's info I file away to help prepare me to meet my child's ever-changing needs. Also, Matthew and I have begun swapping childcare with another AP couple, allowing us to see movies or have dinner out every other week without paying $30 for childcare. How cool is that?!

Cloth vs disposable diapers? Swings that go back and forth vs side to side? Who cares?! The only "must have" new parent gadget is a community!

Aspiring Toward Consonance

2009-10-10T16:43:00.000-04:00

If you read regularly you know I cherish my Saturday morning yoga class. I actually prefer a Sunday morning class because it is a higher level practice but by the end of the work week I need the benefits of yoga and can't wait the extra day. I used to practice on a more daily basis, often at home, but it's become exceedingly difficult since Noah came into my life. Not complainin', just sayin'.

There are times when I enter the softly lit room with incense and smiling yogis sitting cross-legged and feel like the biggest fraud. I should be escorted out immediately! Having just fretted and fussed (ahem, to put it mildly) at Matthew over a messy house and chores not done, sometimes I arrive to class with a mind full of pettiness, my breathing shallow, my body tight and tense. This morning, for example-I discovered just before class that our very large pile of dirty laundry had been sitting wet for several days so Noah's clothing with food and spit up on it was growing black mold. I got myself into a big dark mood over the pretty minor matter, and decided the problem needed addressing right then, even though I knew this was exactly the wrong preparation for a beneficial yoga practice. I'm not too proud to say this isn't the very first time I've created this experience for myself.

Part of why yoga is so important to me is that it acts as a reset button, both physically and spiritually. It's not so much that I am upset or stressed on a regular basis-Matthew and I have been purposeful in creating a work and childcare schedule that allows for breathing room and minimizes daily deadlines (although I am not immune from the pressures of work). It's more that motherhood requires a certain amount of "on-call," planning-ahead energy that makes it hard for me to fully relax. At any given point in the day, my mind is running through the list of tasks I want to get done (ranging from making dinner to writing this blog to getting the dogs exercised) and how or whether I might get to them given Noah's naptime, mood, willingness to play alone while I make dinner, playgroup schedule, etc. The part of me that loves to plan considers this the supreme challenge of motherhood and (blush) I'm pretty good at making it work.

I feel this dissonance, though, between who I am in yoga class (calm, open, present) and the future-oriented person I am most other times throughout my week. I sense it doesn't have to be this way because I have moments of this, let's call it, elevated, state during my life "off the mat." I'd like to manifest more of these moments, to feel a sense of consonance instead of dissonance. Now that's a big word for a big goal, so consider me open to suggestions.

Of Dogs and Babes

2009-10-09T09:50:00.001-04:00

Before Noah, there were Lilly and Chula. They're still with us, two mutts grown used to full body cuddling and sleeping in our bed with us. When I learned I was pregnant, I sometimes wondered aloud if our experiences in raising dogs had taught us anything useful in parenting a human baby. Plenty, turns out.

I'm nursing a sore shin right now from intervening in a scuffle between Lilly and another scrapper at the dog park earlier in the week. The other dog's owner acted the part of victim as we separated the two dogs, even as her dog initiated the scrap. Now I don't like when dogs fight and I always intervene if it seems serious (witness the bruised shin). At the same time I understand it's what dogs do. I try to respect the animal kingdom order in the tiniest of ways (even as I provide our dogs both morning and breakfast kibble in a bowl), and treat other animals' trespasses as the consequence of socializing with other pooches.

The analog to a the dog park is the kiddie playgroup. I've recently begun taking Noah to a couple regular ones. Let's be clear, 9 month olds don't really care all that much about other babies. They might pull some hair or stick their sticky fingers in another kid's eye sockets, but at this age?-playgroups are for the parents. The easiest way to care for children is in a group, mamas (and papas, though there never seem to be any there) gabbing, helping whatever kid needs tending to, and acting the part of extra eyes for the weary and overwhelmed.

But there's this odd dynamic I've observed among some mothers when their kids do the things that kids do-play too roughly with younger babies, steal their loot and don't apologize, put their (H1N1 laden) lips on other kids' water bottles... Many moms take great pains to show how civilized they are, in contrast to their savage beast of a child-they apologize profusely for their child's "wrongdoing" and hover near to be sure they don't repeat the wrong. Silly stuff, on par with taking offense when another dog mounts yours for a good time at the dog park.

What's weird, though, is when I find myself participating to some degree in this display of social niceties, lest I am seen as the clod who let's my kid do these things without interference or apology. This should get interesting as Noah becomes more interactive with other children...

Unconditional Parenting

2009-09-24T20:30:00.001-04:00

I've had the interesting experience of reading a parenting book that's suddenly receiving lots of press. I'm rarely on the front end of a hot topic. Unconditional Parenting, by Alfie Kohn, is being discussed on the Motherlode blog of the NY Times, after an essay appeared in the Science section of the print paper.

Kohn takes the controversial stance that rewards (including verbal praise) send the message to our children that we love them on the condition that they do what we want them to do. Praising a child for mastering tasks, "playing nice" with others, or succeeding in their school work creates children who feel their value comes from what they do instead of who they are.

This book is forcing me to think about how I was parented, always a rich and meaningful exercise as I consider how I want to parent my child. It won't surprise anyone in my family to know I have a few critiques of my parents' discipline tactics! My own parents have been very honest in sharing their regrets about their parenting methods. I do think I was raised to see my self worth as linked to my achievements, particularly in the academic setting. And while that seems like a good thing-it spurred me to be a very good student-the implicit threat was that I was a failure of a daughter if I didn't achieve. The negative side of praise, for me, is that it hampered my willingness to explore and attempt activities where I might not achieve "success": science and math, competitive sports, international travel, wilderness exploration, etc...It wasn't until later in life that I began to explore activities for the sheer joy of doing them: yoga, rowing, hiking, travel.

As a parent today, I'm trying to be more conscientious about being a knee-jerk, one-woman cheering section for Noah. My impulse when he manages a difficult 360 degree maneuver under the kitchen table, is to say, "Good job!" in that high-pitched voice mothers use at playgrounds everywhere. I'm trying instead to simply acknowledge what I see, "Looks like you got yourself out of a tight spot." After all, the reward for getting out of a tight spot is obvious-he's no longer stuck.

The hard part of unconditional parenting- the real test of its value as a method-will come when Noah develops more of a will and ability to behave badly.

Now can I get my gold star for reading this book?

The Ugly Side of "Mother Knows Best"

2009-09-15T15:53:00.001-04:00

I've self-diagnosed myself with a mild case of "mother knows best syndrome (MKBS)." I'm not flattering myself with this statement, although I can see why you might think I am. MKBS is more like an illness I'd like to overcome. You see, in this syndrome, the super competent mother is usually paired with the less competent (bumbling, even) father and it's a bad set up. It plays out in scenarios where only mom can soothe the baby (because of that nursing thing, originally), only mom knows what baby should eat that day, and only mom knows the specific angst baby is experiencing by the tone and tenor of that particular cry. Are you retching yet?

I'm being dramatic but there's some real truth to this description, at least in my life right now. I do think mothers, based on the common biological experiences of pregnancy, birthing and breastfeeding, tend to be more attuned to their babies than do fathers. For the first several months of life, breastfeeding mothers play a unique role in baby's well-being, fathers less so. And yet, there is a lot of societal reinforcement of this mother-baby bonding (as referenced by the phrase, "mother knows best"), and not nearly as much reinforcement of father-baby bonding. Noah is nearly 9 months old. Now, when he is upset, it's not necessarily because he's hungry or wants to nurse. His need for comfort has more of an equal-opportunity quality for Matthew and me.

Matthew and I are having to renegotiate our roles around this, especially with night parenting. Now, when it comes to getting out of bed in the night to respond to Noah's sobbing upset, I'm more than happy to send Papi in. Heck, I'm delighted to share that particular burden, quite honestly.

But I find myself frequently annoyed by Matthew's daytime "mistakes"- feeding Noah yogurt when his nose is dripping snot (I'm of the belief that dairy contributes to mucous production and is best avoided when you've got a runny nose), neglecting to bring any spare diapers when we have a hand-off after a doctor's appointment, putting him to sleep in nothing but a diaper when the nights are getting cool... small stuff, really, and none of them compromise his physical safety or emotional well-being. I've said it before and I'll reiterate here, Matthew is a loving and involved father-you know, the big stuff that matters in five, ten and twenty years. Yet I often respond as though these micro-foibles are macro errors-with exasperation, irritation, complaints. It seems born of the falsehood that "mother knows best" (and father knows nothing) and it's not good for our relationship. Besides, do I really want to be the "expert" around all aspects of Noah's diet?, wardrobe?, existence? Because the ugly side of expertise seems to be total responsibility.

I'd rather aim for equal parenting, which means starting from the prospective where Matthew loves this baby just as much as I do, and somehow, together, we will stumble our way towards what's best for Noah.

On Becoming a Conscious Consumer

2009-09-13T11:52:00.000-04:00

Now I'm not gonna name numbers and there will be no accompanying visual to this post, but I'd like to share my wonder and awe at what I learned from my first ever professional bra fitting last week. I was off, way off-6 whole numbers off. Although, I pretty much inherited my current crop of bras, all nursing bras with thick, ugly straps and not the slightest bit of sexual allure. But they were free, and that has its own allure to a cheapskate like me. More on that below. Besides, they fit well enough, I thought. I was wrong.

My new bras are much snugger, and dare I say?-way more supportive than the old set. My clothes fit better, too, now that the back doesn't ride up and the straps stay put. This may be a long and drawn out justification for spending $150 on just three bras (and I swear the Elle McPherson brand name did not contribute to my spending such a lavish sum). Every woman knows you can jerryrig a bra to sort-of-kind-of fit-using the first or last hook, lengthening or shortening the straps. But it feels kind of nice to know with certainty that I *am* a 32 X. It kind of makes me wonder what other inaccuracies about myself I've simply inherited and never explored?

One way in which I'm getting wiser as I get older is that I try to consume more consciously. This means I don't always buy the cheapest product available because I find the quality is often low and the durability short. Now I'm not talking about buying luxury items and I still buy most of my family's clothing from thrift stores, but a bra that truly fits benefits me most hours of every day. On the other hand, my latest experience with "getting what you pay for" involves a $15 diaper pail from Target where the top latch broke after just two weeks of use. That receipt is long gone and I don't know how we'll remedy the matter.

This more conscious consumption feels in contrast to the deprivation mindset of how I was raised-specifically within my family and more generally by the societal values that prize a good bargain over good value. If there is any good to come of these hard economic times, perhaps it is this cultural shift toward more careful consumption.

Dharma Smackdown

2009-08-29T16:40:00.001-04:00

My Saturday morning ritual includes an hour and a half yoga class. I get cranky at even the thought of missing class because it represents one of my few and cherished opportunities for physical and spiritual practice.

I have come to appreciate the rituals of class: the chanting to start, setting an intention, the low lights--all intended to create a contemplative environment and prompt us to move inward. When Keith encouraged us to set an intention for the class, and perhaps for the rest of the day or upcoming week, I settled on the first thing that came into my head: Acceptance. I waste a lot of energy trying to be planful and make things go my way and it's been making me a little edgy lately. I'd like to be more accepting of the way life unfolds, whether it does so according to my plans or not.

We began a medium-intensity asana practice and I found myself distracted by this couple to my right. They kept up a running commentary during and between poses-it seemed clear that the fellow was trying to get his lady friend to laugh. I mean, I suppose I can see how this pose might inspire a chuckle to the casual observer, but dude-the last thing anyone needs is to feel self-conscious by your pointing out the slight sexual flavor of each pose. Besides, no one talks during class. We just don't! I was annoyed enough that I thought about asking him to be quiet. Dude was seriously harshing on my mellow...

Right about this point Keith invited us to recall our intention and see what progress we'd made there. Um, acceptance? Now that's what I call a dharma smackdown! It's kind of beautiful the way some life lessons just present themselves so obviously. I was able to get over myself, although as the poses intensified, Mr. Chatty McTalky began breathing too heavily to continue his commentary. Too bad, I could have used the challenge...

A Toast to my Baby's Daddy

2009-08-29T16:26:00.000-04:00

This weekend Matthew and I celebrate our wedding anniversary. It's an understated event for us, seeing as we've been partners (in love AND crime) much longer than we've been married. Still, we're taking advantage of our dear friends' offer to babysit Noah tonight and plan to make merry at Parkside restaurant. This place specializes in raw oysters and martinis; I was several months pregnant last we dined there so Matthew had to endure my daggers of resentment for enjoying both right in front of me. I don't know that I'll have the oysters but the martini(s)?-hell, yes. What I've come to appreciate about annual holidays and special occasions is that they serve as milestones of sort, prompting me to reflect on all that's transpired in the past year. The biggest change in our relationship is that we brought this amazing baby into our world. Matthew said it best, when asked by a friend to describe how Noah has impacted our relationship he said, "Having a baby magnifies the best and it magnifies the worst of the relationship." I could write a long time on the hard parts of being co-parents but I'd rather say a few kind and deserved words about my papi as a parent:

He's masterful with the nicknames-every creature (including the dogs, especially the dogs) in this house has at least two. He developed Noah's nickname of "Bubbie" (please note-this is different from the old Southern fave of "Bubba"--think Eastern European term of endearment), though "Baby Man" is becoming a standby, too.

He brings this lovely mixture of head and heart to parenting: He's often pointing out how Noah's latest physical feat reflects this or that evolutionary development and he's not above whispering to me in private how our baby is so obviously superior to all the others in terms of his physical prowess, temperament, attractiveness, need I go on...?

There is nothing better than the sounds of Matthew and Noah giggling together in another room. No matter how rushed or occupied I am, I find myself smiling when I hear them together.

His mechanical mind means he jerryrigs ways to meet the baby's needs while meeting his own desires. That's why the highchair sits in the office, so he can feed Noah while watching movies on his computer.

He's taken on the cloth diaper laundering task now that the diaper service has concluded. This is the man with an uber-heightened gag reflex who is physically unable to be in the same room with someone who is vomiting. I don't know why I get such a thrill out of watching him hang laundry, but I do.

He's a good father and a great husband. I am a lucky woman.

Hazards and Joys of Motherhood, Month 8

2009-08-15T13:00:00.000-04:00

One of the ways motherhood has changed me is that I have become super sensitive to situations involving children. I've always struggled with accounts of child abuse, but that's not unusual, right? Now when I see the headline in the newspaper, "Children Held Captive for Three Months in Hotel Bathroom," I force myself to turn the page. I know enough from the headline; I don't want to internalize the details.

I've noticed this extra sensitivity, though, in more mundane encounters. I recently attended one of the free legal clinics my organization offers in a local middle school cafeteria. I sat in on a case involving a custody dispute between two young teen parents. I had to fight tears when I realized the child in this dispute was ten months old, just several weeks older than my Noah. Each teen had their own questionable credentials as parents-one was an alleged drug user, the other had no job and enough tattoos on his neck to severely limit employment options. This was a common enough scenario, according to the attorney offering advice. Now that I know just how hard it is to parent a young baby, I felt my heart fill with worry for this little girl born into strife, to parents too young to offer her stability and opportunity. No, money doesn't make you a better parent but the stressors of poverty, unemployment and drug use will definitely make an already hard job much that much more difficult.

That same night I met Matthew for dinner and a concert at Scholtz' Bier Garten. We enjoyed barbeque and beer and the touching, gorgeous songs of Eliza Gilkyson. I spent a lot of the show watching a mother and her 3 year old son as they stood by the side of the stage; the child resembled his mother and was clearly so comfortable-and comforted- in her arms. The boy held his own drum sticks and mimicked the motions of the drummer on stage, who was obviously his father. I was struck by the simple beauty of the moment; a child watching his father in his father's element, held in his mother's arms. His father performing publicly for an attentive audience, the same man who tucks him in at night. What powerful information was being transmitted in those moments, about belonging and being together even when apart.

I found myself thinking about my own Dad and crying a few tears. We didn't have a lot of those moments of closeness, my Dad and me, but the tenderness I felt that night was more about the concept of family and connection across generations. I am touched to see Matthew and Noah share these moments, as a father and son, and I cherish those times for Noah and me as well. Motherhood has allowed me access to this age-old experience of family and kin. Even as I wanted to become a mother, I didn't necessarily know what joy or fulfillment I would find when I became one. It's a heart opening role, for sure.

Remembering Dad

2009-07-25T18:04:00.000-04:00

Today is the first anniversary of my Dad's death at age 59. So young! So unexpected. While it's not my tendency to focus intentionally on sad things, I made myself spend some time this weekend thinking about Dad, looking at family photos and re-reading something I wrote for his memorial:

Things My Dad Taught Me
1. It's never too late to make a change. Dad (and Mom) packed up and moved from California to an intentional community in Tennessee at age 58. This, after moving to California from New York at age 49.

2. Plan for the unexpected, give yourself an extra 15 minutes to get somewhere. You can always read your book while you wait (you did remember to bring a book, right?). We clashed a lot on this point but I'm beginning to see the value in being early. And for that matter, closing cabinet doors...

3. Accept your failures but keep trying. Dad made a lot of mistakes, especially in the realm of family, but he apologized often and tried hard to be and do better. I'm beginning to better understand his struggles as a father now that I am a parent.

4. Change is an internal and external process; people have to let you change, too. It wasn't until his death that I saw the new man he was to so many others. I wish I'd known that person instead of clinging to the old version I insisted he was.

5. Social appropriateness is way overrated. My Dad didn't hew to social norms; it embarrassed me many a times, but there's a little of him in me.

6. Eat dessert (preferably ice cream-Breyers, if pressed to name a brand) first, because life is short. Not that he knew how short his life would be...

Outed

2009-07-19T11:10:00.000-04:00

Something that really "fills my cup" is spending time in nature. I live in a medium-big city (maybe you've heard of it?-Austin, Texas), so the nature available to me on a daily basis is hardly pristine, wild outdoors. I've spent time in such settings, living in a semi-rural community as a child and camping often in the incredible Adirondacks Mountains. Before Noah was born, an excellent vacation often consisted of a camping trip to somewhere beautiful like the Chiricahua Mountains in Arizona, the Sangre de Christos in Colorado, or the Chisos in Big Bend. If I think too hard on how piddly Austin's outdoor offerings are in comparison with those places, I feel glum.

What I wanted to write about instead are my little successes in spending time outdoors, even in my urban environment, even during Texas summer. My tendency is to "reverse hibernate" from May-September, limiting time away from air conditioning, and scheduling my outings for dawn or dusk, with one exception*. The dark green and yellow colors of my Guatemalan hammock fade from exposure to sun, my yard chairs stay folded.

Yet this morning the outdoors beckoned. I walked with the dogs in a favorite field before 9 am, then practiced yoga on the backyard deck, which manages to stay pretty shaded until about mid-morning, thanks to the canopy of a hackberry tree. There is nothing better than looking up from a backbend and enjoying the swaying leaves of a deep green tree. That movement reminds me to be loose and full of breath. Seeing that healthy living tree helped me to notice that, while everything at ground level is yellow-brown and dry from drought, if you just look up, there's quite a lot of lush plant life all around.

I plan to experiment with these little forays, making new habits like eating breakfast on the deck, reading at night while the cicadas reach their crescendo.

*Sunday afternoons at Barton Springs are worth venturing out. Coming out from that cold water and lounging under those giant pecans (which officials speculate may be in danger of toppling any day now!) is heavenly, even in the middle of the day.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

2009-07-12T22:23:00.000-04:00

If you want to know what I was thinking about during shivasana pose during yoga this morning, or while waiting to check out at the grocery store, and at so many other points throughout this weekend, it's Noah's difficult sleep habits of late. I know, I've become the cliche of a sleep deprived parent who talks about sleep like an addict describes their drug of choice (it is an apt metaphor, actually). But it's the truth of my life right now...You have my permission to stop reading here!

I'm tired and not functioning optimally during the days. As in, my first thought upon hearing the alarm clock last Friday was, "Is it there any way I can get out of going to work today?" The answer to that question is an emphatic no, as I've just recently begun a new job, and am in the proving phase there.

From about three months old, Noah only woke once or twice a night. Recently, that's become more like 3-4 times a night and only nursing settles him back to sleep. In an effort to break that association, Matthew and I endeavored to involve him more in soothing Noah upon his second or third waking. Walking him around the house at 4 am, Noah was sobbing so angrily that I actually worried the neighbors might think we were abusing him. When holding him in arms and rocking didn't work, Matthew took him for a car ride (bless 'his heart). That seemed to do it, but alas, Noah awakened upon being placed in his crib and was all, "Hell no, you didn't just put me down! Uh uh, ain't no way no how I'm going to sleep from that trickery. Gimme boob! NOW!" And boob he got. Three minutes later, we're all asleep. This is the second night in a row we've had like this. I already know I can't handle a third tonight.

I'm at a loss for what to do. This is not a typical experience for me-feeling totally torn between two paths: sacrificing my own need for sleep for Noah's desires to nurse every two hours or setting a limit and dealing with an hour (more?) of angry tears at 4 am. It is a humbling experience, this not knowing.

The Parent I Thought I Would Be Vs. The Parent I Am, Lesson #35

2009-06-26T23:22:00.000-04:00

We returned Monday night from a vacation to Pittsburgh, PA, and Buffalo, NY, only I didn't feel relaxed nor refreshed, two of the desired effects I seek in a vacation. I think we opted for the wrong getaway with 6 month old Noah, as there were too many constraints (literally, if you consider Noah's dislike of being strapped into his carseat) in the form of air travel, long car rides, unfamiliar sleeping arrangements and schedules, and not enough downtime.

All of this is in hindsight, of course. While I really did enjoy spending time with our friends and catching glimpses of those two, post-industrial cities on the waters-and let's not minimize the respite from our 100 degree Austin weather-this trip was a better fit for our pre-parenting days. And you know, it's a little painful to say that because it challenges who I though I would be as a parent, before, of course, I actually became a parent.

Because Matthew and I live full but simple lives, I envisioned adding little Noah would be a pretty easygoing affair. In no way did I expect to be one of those parents with boatloads of gear getting in the way of going out, nor did I see myself adhering to the voodoo spirituality of a baby's sleep schedule. The truth is, we still travel lightly (well, except for the 80 pounds of heirloom family silver we brought home in our suitcases, a gift from Matthew's stepmother) and we pretty much let Noah lead the way as far as his sleep schedule, but you will not catch me waking my sleeping baby, no way-under no circumstances. That time is sacred and necessary for both of our sanity!

I think another learning point is that my desire for other people to think Noah is a lovely, well-adjusted baby and not a fussy kill-joy is a source of stress for me. The full truth is that he is both lovely when happy and fussy and hard to be around; he cycles between the two within a typical day. Heck, so do I, only on a less obvious scale.

I felt some version of embarrassed or anxious when he would cry in the middle of a meal or during the overnight, I suppose because I felt responsibility for other people having an enjoyable experience. This is a hang up of mine, for sure, but I experienced an even heightened sense of responsibility because we were guests in other people's homes throughout the week, including people who are not very accustomed to children.

So I am filing this under "Learning Experience." The trip we should have taken, our next vacation perhaps, was somewhere scenic and quiet, with a simple plan for getting there and back. Maybe this place in the Hill Country?

A Few of My Favorite New Things

2009-05-31T20:53:00.000-04:00

I had the thought this morning, on a walk with Noah, that I really appreciate some of the ways my life has changed since he was born. My idea of fun is completely altered, for one. As an example, Matthew and I are planning a mini vacation this month. Before, I'd get out the maps and plot a weeklong backpacking trip somewhere beautiful. I look forward to sharing our love of nature with Noah-and we do this now on a small-scale, with many hours on the deck, or looking up at the gorgeous canopy of trees at Barton Springs on Sundays in summer. But changing diapers in a tent with a headlamp? Not fun!

Instead, we are going to Pittsburgh-a city that has never been on the top of my list for places to visit. But there we will have benefit of a house to stay in, and Matthew's stepmom eager to see Noah (and provide babysitting for a child-free evening outing, we hope. We're also going with good friends who will appreciate, or at least tolerate, a baby coming out for most of our activities. I'm pretty sure we won't belabor our time in art museums (a favorite pastime in our previous travels), and we'll probably skip the nightclub scene all together, but we'll do lots of other things that might have seemed lame and boring to us before becoming parents.

Generally speaking, Noah slows us down and invites us to stay in one place for a while and observe what there is to see from that vantage point. Being, rather than doing, as the Buddhists are fond of saying. Brunch at home with friends, afternoons lying on blankets at the springs, mornings lounging in bed making him laugh and smile--these are a few of my favorite new things...

Building Community-On My Terms!

2009-05-24T23:26:00.001-04:00

Matthew and I have enjoyed spending time with new next-door neighbors this past week. Beers on the deck, trip to Barton Springs, dinner and Djembabes concert at Central Market...it's so easy to make plans with just a door knock or holler across the driveway. Alas, Pauline, Kevin and Stone will be leaving town in just a couple of weeks, as they're here for a month-long academic research gig. I appreciate that Pauline came by to introduce herself and borrow a hammer, as I don't know if I would have made the overture.

It's worth noting that we have other neighbors on the other side of the house, too. They are a friendly couple, about our age-no kids-I'm pretty sure we'd get along great. I respect people who putter, tinker, and garden, and anyone who treats their dog like a family member is all right with me. But they've lived there at least a year now and I've not once invited them over for drinks.

I think I know why: there's a part of me that cherishes privacy and anonymity. Now, I've been known to fetch the mail in my undies when I think no one's watching, and I publish this here blog about my interior landscape, so I'm not overly concerned with people knowing my business. What I mean by privacy is more like solitude, in that I want to read the paper on the deck and not feel obligated to exchange pleasantries or conversation with my neighbors. I fear becoming friends with the longstanding neighbors would require these regular exchanges.

Urban anonymity-it seems a great irony that by living in urban settings with people all around, I enjoy greater anonymity, or perhaps autonomy is the more specific term I'm after, than if I lived in a small town with only a few hundred other folks in my zip code. Yep, that's the way I like my "community!"

To Know, Know, Know Me...

2009-05-18T21:38:00.000-04:00

...Is to love, love, love me.

I've been thinking a lot lately about self-presentation. As I've delved into the online worlds of blogging and tweeting, I have to consider how I package and deliver "who I am" to others, some of whom "know" me more from my online presentation than they do from in-person encounters or conversations. It's an interesting challenge (not quite deep enough to be an existential one): I really enjoy the odd intimacy of being an audience to what people choose to share about themselves in a blog or tweet, yet part of me feels that the Internet has done much to diminish true, meaningful connections. My personal challenge in engaging an online audience is to share material that represents me honestly, but with firm boundaries around the really intimate stuff. I operate as if anyone can find my blog- whether a boss, former boyfriend or enemy-because I believe that's true. That means I do a lot of self-editing. But I never Photoshop-I swear!

But to take this in a different direction all together, I've been thinking about a documentary I saw this weekend: "51 Birch Street." http://www.51birchstreet.com/ In this film, the narrator uncovers much about his parents' marriage through reading his deceased mother's diaries. In them she rages against the father, professes her love for her psychoanalyst and has affairs, and is generally unhappy with life. It's not as if her family had no idea that she was unhappy, but they definitely didn't know the depth or details to her unhappiness. The narrator even consults a rabbi as to whether he should read her journals, since they clearly reveal details about herself that she kept from her family while living. It was painful for her children to learn some of the details of who they're mom was.

I've kept journals off and on since I was a teen. I come across an old one every few years or so and it's both illuminating and embarrassing-it illuminates who I was at that moment in time and it's embarrassing because sometimes I was a self-absorbed twit of a stereotype with not a whole lot of insight. I hate the thought of other people reading my diaries but I'm less certain how I feel about people (presumably family members) reading them after I'm dead. It seems petty to care about these things since I'll be dead after all. And maybe the benefits of the truth found there (warts and all) outweighs whatever discomposure I endure in permitting it to happen (by not burning the journals, for example). Besides, how discomposed can I be when I'm decomposing? Ha, having fun with words, here.

I suppose I'm giving public permission here for people to read my diaries when I'm dead. Only when I'm dead and you had better feel for a pulse!

Apple and the Tree

2009-05-04T21:22:00.000-04:00

My mother was kind enough to come stay with me for a week while Matthew attended a dance symposium in Puebla, Mexico. As an aside, am I not a pretty awesome, generous wife to encourage my hubby to take a week to enjoy himself in a foreign country, 4 1/2 month old baby notwithstanding? Thank you. Second aside-he returned a mere week before the swine flu epidemic hit there. Scary!

There's no way I could have managed without another adult to help with Noah care. We told the nanny to take the week off and Mom and I formed a quick tag team. Imagine my surprise to come home from work in the afternoon and see her totally worn out, looking a bit like me when Matthew returns and I hold Noah out as if to say, "Here, he's all yours." In fact, that's a pretty accurate depiction of a typical night for Matthew and me.

My mother raised six children and while I have many memories of seeing her asleep with the paper folded over her face, I don't recall her getting ruffled or upset all that often. It's cliche, but true, that you appreciate your parents in new ways when you yourself become a parent. I cannot imagine having three kiddos under 5, and if you indulge my math- four kids under 7, five under 9 and six under 12! My mom has always been superhero Mom in my mind so I was secretly glad that Noah was able to "break" her with his nonstop fussy, needy ways. It makes me think I'm not just a big wimpy wuss at this childrearing gig.

Mom and I talked a lot about how she managed, with much grace and good spirits. She honestly can't recall how she dealt with pediatric appointments or anyone getting sick, since our family had one car and no babysitter until my oldest brother turned 12 or so. She would do our grocery shopping at 4 am before my Dad left for work. Mom even took in other people's kids to earn extra money for a time! I have it so easy in comparison. I am blessed! So the details are fuzzy but the conclusion is clear-my Mom is amazing.

Back on the (Hamster) Wheel Again

2009-04-07T21:47:00.000-04:00

The title of this post would seem to suggest I'm unhappy that I've returned to work again. Not at all. I have felt deeply satisfied in the two weeks since I've been back, like this is the right life for me. I really enjoy my work and I like who I get to be at work. Sure, there are downer days and some of my more irksome co-irkers, er-I mean-coworkers are already doing their jerky thing. But I like having structure, projects, interactions with smart people and I even appreciate deadlines.

But when the clock strikes 2:00 pm, I'm outta there. I can't stay even if I need to, because I've got a hubby or a nanny to relieve, and I've got a (usually hungry) baby boy who I can't wait to kiss hello. There are a few more kinks to my day, that's for sure-I can't seem to figure out how to pick up my bike from the bike shop between my schedule and the shop's hours, for example. And I had to make an unexpected trip home today because I realized I left crucial breast pump parts on the drying rack and my breasts-pardon my crudeness-were about to explode. I left hot soup steaming on my desk when I rushed out and it was still warm when I returned twenty minutes later. That's what I call learning the easy way!

I know part of why I'm so grateful and satisfied is that I have no worries-none-when I leave Noah in the morning. I love that Matthew is the primary caregiver for twenty hours a week because I see how much closer it makes them when Matthew has to become as intimately knowledgeable of Noah's rhythms and ways as I am. Our nanny is absolutely fantastic and I won't be revealing her name here for fear that someone will want to whisk her away for their own child!

Life is good for this worker mama bee!

"para-sympa-thetic;" say it with me now

2009-03-21T14:53:00.002-04:00

I've been learning recently about the parasympathetic nervous system. One of my yoga teachers, Camilla, shared that certain forward-bending poses stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system and initiate a sense of deep relaxation. Those of you who practice yoga will recognize the blissful, "all is well with the world" feelings associated with that state. It's one of the main reasons why I practice yoga. I'm always inspired to be a better person when I get in that space, or to at least treat other drivers more courteously on my ride home!

I think understanding the nervous system response process provides me with clues to the feeling I'm experiencing lately of being on-guard and not at ease when the baby is near. Let me explain- I regularly find it difficult to fully relax into enjoying what I'm doing, whether reading the paper, surfing the Internet, or even eating, when I am the lone caregiver to Noah. He may be happily occupied with his changing table mobile or noisily sucking his thumb in the infant seat right next to me, yet I anticipate that giggle or coo turning into a wail of misery that demands I end my activity and respond right away. My body anticipates this interruption with tight muscles and shallow breathing; a perfect recipe for feeling tense and jangled.

It's as if I'm anticipating battle, and especially in those early months, it was often a major struggle to calm his crying, or at its worse-screaming-when he was in unhappy mode. But I know the worse of it now-I sure hope I've experienced the longest, most fervent stretches of crying that I'm going to experience: he melts down, I respond with soothing words while holding him near, he eventually calms and life goes on pretty much as it did before. Everyday baby crying is not a stressor worthy of my body's heightened response.

So I'm actively trying to change the response by being aware of the sensations. The feelings of tightness and shallow breathing almost feel unconscious or involuntary but I think that's a function of habit more than an accurate assessment. Something that helps is starting my day with simple yoga and breathwork. It's as if it sets the default for how I breath the rest of the day. Focusing on my breaths, often by counting them, has an amazing calming effect. One would think breathing in and out is as natural as being alive, but it's a deceptively challenging task.

Breathe deeply and change the world, that's my post-it note wisdom for the day.

On Taking Kids Into Nature So They Can Yell, Scream and Otherwise Distub the Peace to be Found There

2009-03-19T13:53:00.000-04:00

I've been nursing this sentiment for some time now, ever since I visited the Austin Botanical Garden last month. It was one of my last few days on maternity leave and I remembered that I'd really enjoyed the gardens on my first and only visit there 8 or even 9 years prior. I was exploring Austin then, like a good newcomer ought, and there was a similar feeling of exploration inspiring this trip, too. Taking Noah out in public-knowing how much "stuff" was essential to a successful outing and what stuff was unnecessary (note to self: take more burp cloths than you think he could possibly saturate with spit-up). This visit happened to coincide with the local school district's spring break, so the place was crawling with kiddos.

I love seeing kids enjoying nature; I have long had a vision of Noah and me walking trails and eventually even camping together. What I hate to see are kids out in nature, yelling, screaming, feeding potato chips to koi fish and generally disturbing the peace and sense of beauty that is found there. I seriously had to tell a pair of Moms that they should probably not allow their children to feed their potato chip snacks to the fish; it might harm the fish over time. "But I didn't see any sign," she protested. There was a sign, in fact, but it seems to me that one shouldn't have to be told certain things.

What sort of experience are these parents trying to offer their kids? Does it seem at all short-sighted that you should bring them out to a beautiful spot, then encourage behaviors that diminish the life that attracted you there in the first place? I think it's worse to bring kids into nature and give them the idea that nature is to be trashed and treated like your own plastic jungle gym. Better to leave 'em inside in front of the TV.

Will I see this differently when my child is 5? We'll see...

Working 9 to 5 (or actually, 8 to 2)

2009-03-11T18:05:00.000-04:00

As I approach my last week as an at-home mom before returning to work, I am experiencing a greater range of emotion than I expected I would. When it's 4 pm and the start of Noah's "UNhappy hour(s)" (what I now know is classic "late afternoon irritability," and a simple expression of how overwhelmed babies feel as they adjust to all the stimuli of everyday life), I can't wait for the chance to use my brain in more meaningful ways than singing nonsensical lullabies to soothe an inconsolable baby. When I find myself in yoga class, trying hard to concentrate on ujjayi breathing but instead thinking about my sweet, precious Noah and his darling smiles of late, I can't imagine separating for six hours five days a week. The twelve week standard maternity leave is kind of a cruel joke when you realize that, developmentally, twelve weeks is right about the precise point when babies are suddenly more people than primal poop makers with horrible crying jags.

As Matthew and I have been tossing out all sorts of financial possibilities, I've even considered whether it would make financial sense for me to stay home with Noah. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be happy this way, but could I choose to enjoy that life if I needed to? What does it mean that I would have to work hard to be happy if mothering Noah were my only "occupation?"

As with so many lessons around mothering I need to experience the separation before I know what I'll feel. I expect to feel exhilarated to return to work, glad to have some intellectual stimulation again and tearfully sad to leave Noah in the mornings. And I'll probably adjust nicely. Probably.

Baby Wearers Club

2009-03-11T17:38:00.000-04:00

There is an organization of "babywearers" in Austin and I attended a gathering this morning. All women, all white, I would guess that they are stay-at-home mothers (SAHM; see how my vocabulary is increasing!?) because the meetings are right smack in the middle of the work day. This group of women is unique among mothers because they wear their babies (versus pushing them in a stroller or setting them in mechanical swings or infant seats). Babywearing is a philosophical choice for many of these folks; they believe it promotes stronger bonding between parent and child and better meets the child's need for security and closeness. A useful phrase is "nine in, nine out," referring to the number of months a baby spends inside the womb and the number of months outside the womb when a baby needs to be mostly held and carried before they can move on their own steam.

I went to the meeting in order to borrow a carrier from the lending library, so that makes me a babywearer, too, but I don't know that I'm ready to begin carrying the club membership card. My experiences with wearing Noah are quite mixed (he's 17 lbs and only accepts wearing when he's sleepy), so I'm not a full convert. However, I really like the versatility of wearing Noah over lugging him in a stroller across these shitty city sidewalks.

The experience was strangely isolating, in that way of feeling more lonely in a room full of people than if I were alone at home. I don't find it all that easy to make quick friends with other women solely on the basis of motherhood, but that's true for me with any group of strangers. I think part of the issue is that while motherhood is definitely a life defining experience for me these days, I am hungry for conversations and connections that go beyond cataloguing our babies' sleep schedules and comparing the advantages and disadvantages of trendy babywearing gear. In other words, I want to make friends with moms but I want us to have more in common than simple motherhood.

I know there are moms with interests outside of their babies because I'm not so conceited as to believe I'm the only one of my kind. And I do realize that people make friends based on their known commonality and move on to deeper relating from there. So it's perfectly understandable that my conversations with other moms at this meeting would revolve around babies. I just found myself pausing a bit, holding back, wondering if babywearing was a base of commonality from which I wanted to actively make friends. I'm still not sure, if pressed to label myself, just what kind of mom I want to be...

Money, Money, Money...MONey!

2009-03-02T22:09:00.000-05:00

(title sung to the tune by the O'Jays)

I learned some sobering news today when Matthew and I reviewed our anticipated income and expenses for 2009 and realized if we proceeded as planned (or not planned, more accurately) we would overspend ourselves by $28,000! The major change to our financial universe is reducing my work hours (and pay) to 3/4 time and hiring a nanny for in-home care twenty hours a week. Since we've never spent beyond our means before, I think we were a bit naive about just how expensive a new baby might be and hadn't bothered to put it all in a spreadsheet and type "SUM."

I'm seriously disappointed because, without hiring a caregiver (and yes, I realize there are cheaper arrangements out there-like group daycare. I have this very strong recoil against that for Noah at this super young age), I see us plunging into a life of relationship stress and unhappiness when I return to work in a few weeks. I'm extremely aware of just how incompatible rigid scheduling is with Noah's (somewhat unpredictable, ever changing) needs and nothing gets Matthew and me sniping at each other more than feeling pressured by a lack of time or communication.

And did I tell you about the incredible woman we found to care for him? She's almost as good as a grandmother in her warmth and knowledge of child rearing. In fact, she's even the same age as both of Noah's grandmothers. During our interview, every word out of her mouth was an affirmation that this person shared our values about child rearing, that this person had great life experiences to share with Noah and with us, that this was the right person for our family.

So we're having to deeply consider our spending priorities for the first time since just after college. No amount of frugal grocery shopping is going to cancel the major expense of having a nanny care for Noah, for example, although the $250 we spend eating out in restaurants each month is definitely a thing of the past, as is the $5,000 we spent on travel last year.

What's interesting is that I've had two reactions to this realization: one is despair over all the fun and convenience we will have to sacrifice if we hire a nanny, and the other is a feeling of comaraderie as Matthew and I move into solution-finding mode and align our spending priorities with one another. I recently texted him in a fit of optimism something like, "does spdsht include Noah as a tax exemption? we can deduct our investment losses this yr how hard 4 u to earn more in 09?"

We're still fact-checking some of our rough numbers to be sure the picture is really as grim as it first appears but I am also reminding myself that we're very fortunate compared with many in this economic downturn. It's a good time to be modifying our spending behaviors because we have lots of company. In the most positive light, we are confronted with a very healthy exercise of establishing priorities for our new way of life with child. If we want the luxury standard of child care (in home nanny), for example, what are we willing to give up to make that happen?

Doing the Time

2009-02-28T16:00:00.000-05:00

One thing Noah has already taught me in his almost nine short weeks on earth is that there are few shortcuts in parenting. For example, I spend hours each day (and night) rocking Noah, sometimes while nursing but sometimes just to soothe him to sleep. There is no "efficient" way to do this. In fact, I find it more efficient to take the time to do the job right (and this can easily be an hour of rock, rock, rocking, waiting for his breath to flutter and deepen before his hands finally fall loose to his sides) than to try and rush it. I've tried the quick version, laying him in his crib as soon as his eyes only sort of close, tiptoeing away toward my computer or dinner, only to hear him sputter and cry in anger and betrayal before I even close the door. Then I get to start the process all over again, this time with a growing sense of frustration.

The other element of baby timing is discernment- knowing when to respond and when to just rest. Sometimes Noah fusses and gets over it. At least five times a night I awaken just enough to cock an ear because I hear him stirring. All the while I hope like hell he'll soothe himself back to sleep! But waiting just a moment too long before responding results in the fuss becoming a sonic doom fit, waking up Matthew and getting Noah super upset and hard to console. I've learned the hard way that the extra second of lying down is not worth the extra 20 minutes it takes to return Noah to sleep.

It gets me to wondering if these lessons aren't applicable to other areas of my life. Good relationships of all kinds require time and attention, though lord knows I've tried the quick n dirty approach without success. It's easy to say that children are a special cast of people, different from you and me, but maybe children are just simpler in expressing the needs and desires we all have to be noticed and responded to by others?

Party Mommy

2009-02-19T18:54:00.001-05:00

My friend Julene passed along an email invitation to an "all girl dance party" last night at a chic local club. Qua is known for having an aquarium under its dance floor and exclusive bottle service, not my usual kind of place. Even though I hadn't seen the inside of a dance club nor put on anything form fitting in seven months or so, it seemed like a really good idea. Maybe because the hours fit my mommy schedule (8-10 pm) and an all female setting seemed less intimidating than the usual pretty people club scene.

It was, in fact, a very good time. After two drinks, I felt the faintest memory of what it meant to be drunk. I wasn't drunk but I was feeling, ahem-festive. Motherhood has made me a lightweight, I know. Anyhow, the entire point of the evening was to have a good time--what a concept! It wasn't until I was in it that I realized how rare and special it was to so purposefully enjoy myself, untethered from child, away from the tedious chores of domestic life. If I wanted to-and I didn't-I could do something truly wild. Instead, I checked in with Matthew at 9pm. When he assured me Noah was alive and even better, asleep, I texted him to say I was staying until 9:30pm.

Heading home I was giddy, like I'd occupied different head space for a couple of hours. You know that feeling you get when you completely lose track of time because you're enjoying yourself so thoroughly? That's the feeling I had walking away from downtown, getting in my car and heading back to my hungry son and the dinner dishes, the accroutrements of my exceedingly tame domestic life. In fact, the house was dark and Noah and Matthew in bed but as I ate my bedtime snack and prepared for the night's nursings, I felt like I'd been just a little bit naughty.

If You Want to Make God Laugh...

2009-02-17T23:38:00.000-05:00

...Tell him your plans.

I'm a good planner. If we agree to meet for a picnic, I'll remember the wine opener and a serrated knife for cutting the baguette. If I'm putting on an event, I'll remember the duct tape, the masking tape, the two-sided tape and scotch tape, too.

Something I'm really struggling with lately in motherhood is accepting the push-pull balance of planning and spontaneity. When it comes to getting out of the house with Noah, even if only to go walking with a friend, I have to carefully consider his past, current and likely future sleep schedule, and time the final diaper change and nursing just right. Of course, nursing begets spit up and poop and pee, one of which usually delays our actually getting out the door on time. Never mind making sure that my own teeth are brushed! I've taken to making any ETA a range of 30-60 minutes and that usually works out well.

I get frustrated making plans that don't even involve the complication of leaving the house! For example, last Wednesday was Matthew's birthday. I was aiming for a romantic breakfast, maybe not served in bed, but served to him, at least, with a pretty flower on his plate of french toast. My first gift to him was covering his usual 5:30-8 am Noah "shift," letting the old man sleep in a bit. This meant I was exhausted and irritable from about 10 am onward; my first mistake of the day. I prepared breakfast with Noah in his sling and set his sleepy self in the crib just before the birthday boy awakened. Coffee was hot, the food was ready; I figured we'd have a bite to eat and head back to bed ourselves, ooh la la. Except it didn't happen like that because Noah wailed and cried inconsolably until Matthew left for work.

We had a remarkably similar experience that same evening as we prepared to go out for a fancy dinner at Uchi. We'd convinced our friends David and Emily to babysit for our very first outing sans Noah. I'd planned to have him asleep by the time they arrived, so their first childcare gig would basically be a little together time for them. Except it didn't happen anything like that. I greeted Emily and David at the door with big sobs of frustration, wearing housewife clothes and not anywhere near ready to leave. My tears almost cancelled out Noah's cranky crying, but not really. I was a mess and if they'd not been so caring and supportive, I probably would have canceled the whole evening out. Which would have been a big mistake because it turned out to be a wonderful and celebratory time out for Matthew and me (notwithstanding the miso soup I spilled all over my skirt. Hot miso soup).

Motherhood is difficult and I am learning "the hard way" (the only way)!

So, what are my takeaway lessons from these experiences (as if life's lessons can be summarized in neat bullet points!)

I need to be willing to let plans dissolve into the ether, especially ones predicated on a baby being docile and asleep at any specific moment in time.

I need to let friends my help me, even when I'm afraid to be seen as an emotional trainwreck and/or exceptionally unskilled at motherhood. In fact, I need to ask for help especially when I'm an emotional trainwreck.

Something I read recently helps me with perspective, so crucial when I'm as isolated and hormonal as I am lately: in twenty years I will remember nursing Noah's warm, needy body in the dark with such wistfulness. Imagine myself twenty years from now and truly enjoy the gift of this lovely baby now. How's that for a plan?

Green Light Right Brain

2009-02-09T22:51:00.000-05:00

Just finished reading the book Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor and found it to be rich and inspiring on many levels. In short, she is a brain scientist who applies her vast knowledge of brain anatomy to describe the changes hers underwent after experiencing a stroke at age 37. She gives gratitude for the experience, for it taught her the wonders and joys of right brain living.

Roughly defined, the right brain functioning is more concerned with "being" and "feeling" while the left side of the brain is more concerned with "doing." We live in a society that emphasizes accomplishment and productivity over being emotionally present. That means most of us spend quite a lot of time in our left brains. I know I do.

Bolte Taylor's discusses how her stroke initially forced her to function more out of her right brain, and later-how she actively chose to embrace the opportunities of this specific "impairment." For example, in the depths of her stroke, she was able to experience medical staff by their energy, or what stoners and hippies might describe as "vibes." Those medical professionals who came to her projecting empathy, patience and positivity inspired her to get well. Those who came to her in a rush, with demands, or with little regard for her humanity caused her to actively retreat. After she had recovered, Bolte Taylor continued to "tune in" to people's energy fields as a way to gauge whether someone was safe or a positive person worth getting to know. She also engages in daily exercises to cultivate feelings of joy and gratitude while minimizing more toxic emotions of anger and frustration.

To me, exploring the complementary nature of the right and left brain is a different vocabulary for describing my efforts to live a more joyful, authentic life. Much of my life has been oriented to achievement and productivity (see previous blog posting here for more discussion on this) but over the past few years I find myself shifting time and energy away from those priorities and towards the more satisfying realm of authentic relationships with family and friends, developing a spiritual practice, and "just being."

While I do still spend time in, and honestly-get a real charge from-my ongoing professional activities and accomplisments, that world demands and rewards left brain functioning and productivity and comes at a cost. One of the costs is that I work in a setting that discourages authentic interactions with others. For example, here's a sentiment I'm not likely to express aloud anytime soon: "Dear High End Donor, I find your self-conscious displays of generosity and entitlement quite burdensome. Do you really believe yourself to be better than I?" Yeah, goodbye job! It's a rare individual who functions in this society without having to sacrifice or hide some essential aspect of who they are. I recognize this yet I don't fully accept it as how it must be. My challenge to myself is to cultivate small steps toward living a 100% authentic life. One of the places to start is in simply acknowledging just how valuable emotional and relational presence is to a healthy, balanced life. And that makes me glad! :)

Mad At Dad

2009-02-03T21:46:00.000-05:00

What do women talk about when they have lunch or walking dates with one another? Well, we often talk about our relationships with our partners and sometimes these portrayals are none too flattering. I've revealed enough in earlier posts for readers to know that Matthew and I have our squabbles here and there and having a baby has definitely increased the pressure on our relationship. This NY Times Motherlode blog post reacts to research that describes many mothers feeling chronically angry with and resentful toward their spouses around childcare and household responsibilities. I'll say that the conversation struck a nerve with me, and judging from the many fiery comments from readers, not just with me.

A few of the comments gave me insights I needed to hear: perhaps we're angry with "Dad" because it's unacceptable to be angry at our crying baby. Last Sunday I'll confess to calling Matthew three times, each time with increased anger, when he came home an hour later than I expected him. "I need you to come home NOW," I cried to his voicemail (although the third message consisted no words, just Noah's wails). Noah had worked himself into a huge and long cranky spell and bested my five or six efforts to put him to sleep. Every time I tried to eat even a morsel of (once warm, now cold) food, he demanded to be held. I was also trying to prepare soup for a dinner with friends later that night and couldn't get a single onion sliced (nothing like a deadline to increase the feeling of urgency). I was tired, hungry and frustrated as hell, but I held, rocked and tried all my tricks to soothe Noah.

It wasn't until Matthew came home that I exploded and burst into tears while handing the baby over. He wasn't very late, he'd stopped to handle a customer issue in the neighborhood on his way home from yoga; I was simply venting anger at the only other adult around. He rubbed my back and I was able to let the anger go as soon as I had some relief and support. The physical comfort helped, too.

The second insight I took away from reading readers' reactions to the blog was that, if I want my mate to participate fully in childrearing or household affairs, I have to let my mate participate as a competent equal even if they manage tasks differently than I do. Several fathers commented in the blog forum that they are happy and willing to participate evenly in childcare and household duties but that their wives hold such exacting standards that they feel doomed to fail. I find myself checking my tendency to give feedback on Matthew's "techniques" when I see him parenting Noah differently than I do (for example, dancing and singing him to sleep versus silently rocking him in a chair). How ridiculous is that?! Maybe my approach results in Noah falling to sleep five minutes faster but what, exactly, is the rush?

Watching my partner develop a unique connection to our son is an awesome experience that helps me to love him even more deeply. When I drop this attitude of superiority (which comes from where, exactly? Is it because I'm the mother? Because I babysat as a teen and have more experience with children?), I see that Noah benefits from quality time spent with each of us. Period. So long as the baby is healthy and safe, the specific handling techniques are not important.

The last bit of learning for me is more general: Parenting is not a new phenomena and there is a lot to learn from experienced parents who have gone before me and done it well. I have so much to learn...

And what does that say about me?

2009-01-29T22:10:00.000-05:00

There is a person in my life, someone who, by happy circumstance, will likely remain in my life for a very long time, and this person is very hard for me to love. Or to even like. *I* don't like who I am when I'm around her; her very presence seems to bring out the worse in me.

It is useful for me to consider the old therapeutic maxim that every relationship serves as a sort of mirror for self-reflection. And in this person's mirror, I'm cold and critical, rarely pleased and often pissed off. And I want to protest, "Wait-I'm only this way around YOU." Which begs the question, what does that say about ME?

The Dance of the Ego

2009-01-26T21:17:00.000-05:00

"The ego is constantly trying to figure out what page it's on in the story of itself. Close the book. Burn the bookmark. End of story. Now the dancing begins." -from Wake Up Now by Stephen Bodian

One of the reasons I so cherish my yoga practice is that I practice with a very talented teacher who never lets us students forget that yoga is at least as much a study in meditation and philosophy as it is about the physical poses. We often begin class with a poem or quotation, that we might consider its significance throughout the class.

This particular quotation resonates with me on quite a few levels. About a year or so ago, I began to feel disappointment about not being more accomplished in my life, particularly in my career. When I was in high school (yes, I'm about to reveal that I reached my peak in high school and have experienced a precipitious decline ever since!), I was top of my class academically and generally a supreme go-getter. Much of that was superficial; I took tests well and dutifully turned in work on time, but I didn't necessarily have the inner desire for knowledge or an ability to think critically or respond in any meaningful way to the material I studied. I made a big decision when I choose to go to a lesser-tier college instead of the more prestigious ones I was accepted to attend. I chose to attend Earlham College because I thought I would develop social consciousness and a more global perspective. I don't know how I knew these things were important to me, but I'm going to be generous and give my young 17 year old self some credit for being wiser than she thought at the time.

That decision was just the first of many decisions I've since made where I opted for a pleasant and balanced quality of life over a more rigorous, status-generating way of being. I've worked exclusively in low-paying jobs in the nonprofit sector, I studied social work in graduate school. I currently work in a junior capacity raising funds for a nonprofit healthcare clinic and while I am a smart, effective worker, I don't bust my chops working overtime or devote 100% of my best brain cells to my job. I do, however, enjoy my work and my life overall. That is critical to this discussion.

Over the past few years, however, I realized that I still held this notion of myself as a Type A go-getter, when the reality of my life experience thus far very much belies this image. In choosing to become a mother, I made the conscious decision to focus even less on career advancement. And when I really think about it, I'm not convinced that I would like the pressures and responsibilities that come from more executive level work positions. But the long-held-yet-unexamined expectation for myself to be a leader and to hold positions of power and prestige has lingered on. It is undoubtably the work of my ego and I'm not quite ready to let the image go for good. For now, I am just observing the internal wrestling match between my drive for professional recognition and status and my contentment with being content.

Gratitude

2009-01-22T18:40:00.000-05:00

There have been moments in the last few weeks when I feel unbridaled enthusiasm for returning to work in March. Being at home with Noah while everyone else goes to their jobs is isolating and more than a little boring at times, especially now that I mostly stay on top of the challenges of parenting a newborn. And then there are those brief-but-intense moments of misery that I only rarely feel in my workplace, namely when Noah is pissed off and inconsolable, usually while I'm trying my darndest to put something in my mouth or get us somewhere on schedule!

Yet I've also gasped to think-at four weeks old yesterday-I'm already 1/3 through this precious, special time. It is indeed feeling more like a vacation than a sentence, especially with afternoons like Tuesday, when I took Noah to a special "Baby Day" screening of the movie "Doubt" at the super-cool Alamo Drafthouse theatre. Mommy had a pint of Real Ale Fireman's #4 and Noah had nap time. All worries that my baby would be the one to disrupt everyone's enjoyment of the movie (including my own) by a 40 minute crying jag were completely erased when I walked in to find an empty theatre! Just another reminder of how lucky I am to be home with my baby and attending movies at 1 o'clock in the afternoon...

Riding high on the satisfaction of our latest baby outing accomplishment, I found myself in a minor accident not 5 minutes after leaving the theatre. The accident was small, but it could have been very bad (catastrophic?). It took a minute before I allowed the possibility of what.could.have.happened to sink in and I cried with relief before getting out of the car. My hands were shaking as I wrote down the fellow's insurance information and I actually had the thought, "See what happens when you leave the house?"

The fellow at fault was an elderly, confused Italian immigrant. He reminded me so much of my grandfather I just couldn't treat him with anger or meanness, even as he insisted his light was green. This incident was such a vivid reminder that terrible things could (will?) happen to Noah and most of them are beyond my control. Rather than dwell there I'm choosing to concentrate instead on the gratitude I feel (to whom?-the universe?) for having escaped harm once again. I'm seeing this event as a reminder to live and enjoy life in spite of the danger and uncertainty that surround us upon leaving the house, and to love and appreciate Noah even in his most trying moments.