“Mama, this tree is AMAZING.”

Seward Park, August 15, 2009.

Reworking – Moment by Moment

• She’s lost another tooth.  The lack of any baby-ness in her face and attitude right now is scaring the crap out of me.  My tool box feels dusty.  Old ways of doing are rapidly becoming extinct.  NEED NEW TOOLS NOW!

• My garden is one of the most amazing pieces of art I’ve ever created.  Truly the essence of what beauty is.  What a little seed can do.  Climbing just like my girl into adolescence.  They are both shaking me to my very core every time I look their way.

• Thinking of Pa, Dad and Don today.  And the way that I am becoming more and more entangled in the web of him-hood.  I’ve always been a girl of girls, women surrounding women, only letting in the few men in my life.  For the first time, I’m opening to the possibility.  Loss allows for so much newness.

• The day dad had his heart attack I stopped cleaning my house.  I’m not sure what this is about and what to do other than keep closing doors when people come over.  Priorities, the whiff of possible mortality in the air, carrying more and more terrifying sadness with me day to day?  I don’t have the answer but I must figure this out soon.

• Writing.  I thought I would quit you.  But then all of a sudden, my fingers ache to word-play all day long.  It’s been my computer and me for days, reworking my head into something I can live with.  Hopefully.

• Poetry and music have taken over my entire synapses.  It must be Solstice romancing me back to the earth.  (As I wrote that last sentence, thunder rolled and lightening struck.  Must be an omen.)

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Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Standing Up for Barbie (Sort of)

I’ve thought about this post for a while.  How to even put down into words that Barbie’s (three of them) live in my house now? But here goes the admission.

Yes, they are here but they aren’t central figures, just bystanders that were given to Autumn because they happen to be in the same box as the large and movable dogs that she begged grandma for.  But they are here nonetheless.  After Autumn opened the boxes and discarded the Barbie’s to just play with the dogs, I hid the Barbie’s in a drawer.  Then one day, I happen to open the drawer with her standing next to me and she asked me “why her girls where in the drawer” and she wanted them back.  I handed them over sheepishly.

When my youngest sister was little, I was in college and was anti-Barbie all the way (actually still am).  I’m sure she heard me ranting against them.  And now, when my little (twenty-two-year-old) sister sees these Barbie’s at MY house, she now rallies against them herself.  Telling Autumn how disgusting they are.  Autumn didn’t even know they were called Barbie’s until my little sister told her.

I let it go.  I’ve felt like I didn’t want to say these same things to Autumn because I don’t want her to start having these thoughts.  She could care less about clothes or bodies or weight and I just don’t want to put those ideas in her head.  So I haven’t.  I’ve just tried to work around it.  But I swear, the moment my sister ranted against them, they became much more intriguing to Autumn.  When she plays “dogs” in her doll house, which is all she has ever used her doll house for, she now props the “girls” up in the background (plus one GI Joe that her daddy gave her from his childhood).  They are the “owners” of the dogs and are really only there to serve that one purpose.

After a recent visit with my family that entailed my sister posting notes in the Barbie’s hands and talking about their boobs, their butts, their clothes, their hair etc., Autumn decided to take a stand.  When we got home, far from the earshot of her beloved Auntie, she said, “Mom, Brittaney doesn’t like Barbie’s and Isabel at school doesn’t like Barbie’s but I DO!”  And out of my mouth came, “You can like whatever you want, no matter what anyone else says.”  Ouch, that hurt.  But I was proud.  I was actually happy to hear her stand up for Barbie.  How totally insane is that?

It is now two weeks after our visit and I have yet to see the Barbies make a reappearance (and it’s not because I’ve hidden them).  But I did go out and get her a used non-Barbie girl that actually looks like a girl (with red hair of course).  You know, if these dang Barbie’s didn’t have dogs to own, they would serve no purpose to her whatsoever.  Of course, it’s the dogs fault, always is!

p.s. I can’t stand Barbie and when I went to post a picture, I couldn’t actually do it.  I’m going to find a new hiding spot.

Tooth Loss

I went to the store, came back and my babies top front tooth was gone.  This is lost tooth number five and I’ve been there when all the other’s came out.  It nearly broke my heart to miss it.  I tried to pick her up and give her a cuddle and then I realized that she’s over 3/4 my size all ready.

Sigh.

First Salon Haircut

Somewhat by accident at Retroactive Kids.

Reincarnation: The Upside to Dying

I’ve been so tired of talking about dogs.  This obsession of Autumn’s is going on three years now.  We talk about breeds, what breeds she wants, when is she going to get another dog – when, when when? Then we talk about what they eat, what kinds of beds they like, what kinds of bowls they should have, what dogs have fur verses hair, etc.  And I’ve had my fill.

But since the topic of conversation has turned to death, I’m all about bringing the dog conversations back.  We are constantly, especially in the car,  having these intense death conversations.  She’s scared, worried and obsessing about something new.  But I don’t want to think about it because then I start obsessing too.

I’ve been trying to tell her all of the things that different people think about the afterlife.  And when I told her about reincarnation, she was totally on board.  Now she mostly talks about what we are going to be after we die.  According to her, she’s going to be a dog, I’m going to be an owl and her dad is going to be a zombie.”  Apparently he has some work to do in his next life.

A Fear of Dying

It’s been rough around here.  I’ve been gone.  Something Autumn isn’t use to.  On top of dad’s heart attack, Autumn has been obsessed with death.  It started with the death of three dogs in the family.  Two were cremated and she discovered their boxes at Don’s moms.  The other dog died suddenly and was only three years-old.  She was my mom’s dog.  She is buried at my mom’s with her collar.

Autumn can’t shake any of this.  She is now obsessed with her own death.  She asked me tonight as we were eating chips, carrots and hummus, if we would eat corn chips after we died.  She collected some drawings to put in her grave because she cannot fathom being burned.  At bedtime I was reading “Mouldy Mansion” and now she wants that buried with her too.  As much as I tell her that she doesn’t need to worry and that she is young (although she keeps throwing mom’s dog being young back at me) she is still really worried.

Today she asked me all about my grandparents (who have died) and how they died and how old they were and on and on.  I don’t know how we’re going to shake this.  I had her call and talk to grandpa today.  He told her we were going to go fishing and play together when we visit in a couple of weeks.  I want things to feel normal and okay and for her not to worry.  Although she is my daughter, so getting her stop worrying is probably not possible.

Around the Block and Back Again

For a while now, I’ve been trying to decide whether to continue this blog or not. Autumn is getting older and I want her to start having a say in whether I talk about her in this space. Also, when I write about controversial topics or topics that people close to me have other opinions about, stuff happens – people get upset, judgmental, hurt. So, I decided to stop or at least take a long breather, after a rather large family debacle.

I actually started this blog to be a companion, an alternate view of me as I documented my mama life through my column at Mamazine. My column had my alternate voice, the political nature of motherhood, the down and dirty, nitty gritty, no fluff side. And of course I was hit with a truck load of criticism. So, I created this space to show that I could mix gritty and soft. Then Mamazine sadly stopped its publication last month.

I decided that I might just follow suit and I wrote my last post, at least for a while. Then I begin to feel a little like I was missing one of my limbs or at least my therapist. Then I went back through my archives and read the story of a life, of many lives, of this journey of childhood, motherhood – good and bad. What a document my child will have, a document most of us don’t have of our childhoods and the inner thought of our moms. And then I realized that if I stop here, the documentation of our life together will end. And I possibly may need this space to get through my days as a mom, a partner and teacher.

I didn’t realize how very important it was to my life. How much I depend on sending my worries and joys out into the cyber world, whether anyone reads them or not. It’s the process – the decompression at the end of the day, the deconstruction of hard and joyous moments that help me move on to the moments ahead.

Who knew. So, I think I’ll take a break. But I just have to leave the possibility of returning, of continuing this rant, this roll, this journal of our lives as we piss people off and bring people joy – at least for a little while longer.

Mama-Hood

I began writing this blog because sometimes I feel a little crazy as I move along this path of mama-hood.  Sometimes when I read other blogs, blogs that actually tell the truth, rather than tie everything in a neat little bow for the world to see, I feel a connection, a real sense of “I’m not alone in this”.  And I know that’s cliche’ but it’s the truth.  Mama blogs that only show the sun shinning, the peace lingering, the perfect set of child and parents mingling don’t give me half as much as the dirty truth of  the “in trenches” mama blogs.  I began writing this blog not only for me but for those parents who feel this same way.  Yes, sometimes I purposefully create posts that are sunny and lovely, if I didn’t someone would surely report me for all the questioning that goes on within these pages.  Although those sunny days are also just as true.  I’m all for being positive and seeing the bright side of life but sometimes I don’t want to.  I want to lay it out for myself and for some other parent who might be feeling the same way.  I don’t want sympathy or opinions for that matter, I just want those other mama’s to know that they aren’t alone.

And yes I know that sometimes I seem:

• like I’m about to lose my mind
• crazy
• moody
• over-dramatic
• over-emotional
• irrational
• stubborn
• one-sided

but don’t we all sometimes and isn’t that okay?  Isn’t that the beauty of this trip?  So, just in case you’re worried, we’re fine.  No, I’m not ready to separate from my child and yes, I think that is okay.  No, she’s not going to be harmed by continuing to go to school at one of the best schools in the city just because I’m also there.  Yes, I need to step back more at school and let her work it out.  Yes, she’s perfectly fine the way she is even if that isn’t like anyone else I know (in fact it is probably a good thing).  Yes, I have re-evaluated my expectations of her and of myself and that has taken so much pressure off.  Yes, I need to believe in both of us more, don’t we all need to?  Yes, teacher’s have doubts too.  No, I really don’t have any answers, I’m only trying to do the very best I know how each and every day like so many other people I know.  Yes, she’s my child and thankfully I get to make the decision about her life, at least for now.

I just love her and want the very best I can give her.  She’s my one and only.  She’s my setting sun.  And we are so imperfect in our perfectness together.

Move along now.  There’s nothing more to see here.

Before and After Autumn

I use to write poetry all of the time.  Read dense work, analyze, read professional analyzes of said dense work, tag, underline, discuss said work just for fun.  I use to stay up all night, burning with need, painting, drawing, writing it ALL out, until spent I slept the day away.  I use to make work, wrap my mind in words, all day, all night long, even if it was only in my head.

Now I worry. I work.  I clean.  I cook.  I fold.  I wash.  I worry.  I watch the cleaning, the washing, the folding, the worrying deconstruct as fast as I can get it done.  Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost the words, the drive to read dense work, the brain cells gone to discuss said work just for fun.  My mind pulses one thing when I’m not busy fixing the world to make way for her: AUTUMN.  AUTUMN.  AUTUMN.

So, mostly instead of words, I take pictures.  Mostly of Autumn.  But also of other things.   Sometimes of words.  Maybe not so dense, but real.  Capturing something that it feels like I’ve lost, in another medium.  In another language.  In a form that only takes a tilt of head, a slant of light and a click of my finger.

I guess it will do for now.  Pulse: AUTUMN.