Sometimes I think I should rename this blog 'fumbling through motherhood'....I've spent many an hour racking my brains over the source of my child's meltdowns in the morning on the days I go to work and every night when I make dinner. They began around 12 months old and now, at 29 months continue on a mostly daily basis.
I know some of it is fatigue and hunger and some is the stress of being away from me or the prospect of being away from me. I've tried just about everything to solve the issue - given my undivided attention upon returning home for 10-15 minutes, put on Sesame Street, created art projects to be done 3 feet away from me, put on music, read books in between chopping vegetables, yelled, ignored, given time outs. Nothing has made a difference.
In the last week I decided it was time to return with a serious bent to my yoga and meditation practice. I've been so aware of how off-kilter I've felt since the beginning of the year. Frankly, I find myself miserable to live with, I can't even imagine how the other two people in this house can deal with it.
So, I've gotten up between 5:45 and 6am and tiptoed downstairs where I've done 45 minutes of yoga, 5 minutes of breath practice and 5 or 10 minutes of meditation. What I've noticed is a marked change in my sense of balance. I feel better. I feel like Sarah on a good day.
In my meditation I often visualize sitting on the dock at the Eckel's Camp, a place I would go swimming with my grandparents as a child. It is probably the place that I most equate with happiness and safety. My time there, usually with my grandparents, was filled with nothing but joy. Now, when I close my eyes, I can feel, see and smell the surroundings - cool pine needles crunching as I step on them. The weathered wood of the dock that is warmed by the sun. The sound of the water lapping against the shore. The feel of the vinyl seats in my grandparents subaru.
The person that I most wish I could talk with about my role as a mother is my grandmother. A person, who, it seems, had endless patience and the deepest well of happiness I've ever known. I so wish I could travel back in time, staying the age I am now, but being with her when she was 65 or 70 so we could talk about just how she did it.
So, in my meditation I imagine she is sitting with me on the dock, holding my hand. I can so clearly evoke the feel of her hands, the texture of their skin, the spots that peppered their backs and the smell of her paquin hand cream. I try to allow myself to feel the same sense of patience that I always perceived she had.
What I've found is that the first few times I did it, I just dissolved in tears and sat a wept as I (tried to) meditated. Now, I can feel a sense of peace as I sit with her.
The most interesting thing is that in these days when I have felt more balanced, my child has not had the meltdowns. Yesterday she was meltdown free. This morning, when she asked me if it was a mommy-ella day and I said, no it was an ella and friends day, she said a small 'oh' and then brightly 'ella and friends! yay!' I dropped her at daycare with nary a tear.
So, is her behavior her or me? Was I looking to the wrong source for the meltdowns? It will be interesting to see how things proceed. If I keep up my practice will her behavior be better because she senses mommy is more even keel? I'm sure there'll be hiccups and some meltdowns are inevitable, but if nothing else, maybe this practice can help me to respond better when they happen. That alone makes it worth it.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
One of those weeks
You ever have one of those weeks where it feels like one more thing will just be the straw that breaks the camel's back....and then that one more thing happens?
I'm there. This week I sat down to do some back of the envelope calculations about next year's daycare costs vs. what I am likely to earn teaching...yeah, so that leaves us $4K in the hole from daycare alone, let alone my salary not contributing anything to cover other household costs. That's just depressing. I am not someone who wants to be home full-time with kiddos, but I can't say that I can justify putting them in daycare to lose money so I can do a job that I'm not so thrilled with either.
Then, we have a major family event in the works with my father-in-law's parkinsons which has taken a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. Over the course of a few weeks he has gone from fairly functional, living a regular life, to hospitalized and now in rehab and unlikely to be able to come home - can't walk, feed himself or even, it seems, think straight anymore. I so feel for my mother-in-law. Her first husband died of cancer in his 50's and I don't think, when she remarried 10 years ago, she ever thought this marriage would also ask so much of her. She is a young 72 with a lot of life left in her (her own mother is still alive at 103) So we are all feeling overwhelmed and sad for both of them.
Now, here I am home for the day and waiting for our final windows to be installed. We decided to have two in-wall, ancient air conditioners removed and replaced with picture windows. The one upstairs went fine. Downstairs brought with it rotted wall studs, a colony of carpenter ants and damage to the major, lower support beam that is holding up the addition of the house. A fair portion of the back of the house is now ripped off and I'm hoping it is all put back together before the end of the day. Somehow this was missed on the inspection so we're stuck with dealing with it and paying for it.
And there you have it, a lot of stuff all at once in life. I guess that's the way life goes. Good stuff can be hard and bad stuff can be hard. Things always work out and everything comes to some kind of resolution whether it is a new baby entering the world and jobs changing, a life leaving the world or renovations you weren't intending to do needing to be done.
March on.
I'm there. This week I sat down to do some back of the envelope calculations about next year's daycare costs vs. what I am likely to earn teaching...yeah, so that leaves us $4K in the hole from daycare alone, let alone my salary not contributing anything to cover other household costs. That's just depressing. I am not someone who wants to be home full-time with kiddos, but I can't say that I can justify putting them in daycare to lose money so I can do a job that I'm not so thrilled with either.
Then, we have a major family event in the works with my father-in-law's parkinsons which has taken a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. Over the course of a few weeks he has gone from fairly functional, living a regular life, to hospitalized and now in rehab and unlikely to be able to come home - can't walk, feed himself or even, it seems, think straight anymore. I so feel for my mother-in-law. Her first husband died of cancer in his 50's and I don't think, when she remarried 10 years ago, she ever thought this marriage would also ask so much of her. She is a young 72 with a lot of life left in her (her own mother is still alive at 103) So we are all feeling overwhelmed and sad for both of them.
Now, here I am home for the day and waiting for our final windows to be installed. We decided to have two in-wall, ancient air conditioners removed and replaced with picture windows. The one upstairs went fine. Downstairs brought with it rotted wall studs, a colony of carpenter ants and damage to the major, lower support beam that is holding up the addition of the house. A fair portion of the back of the house is now ripped off and I'm hoping it is all put back together before the end of the day. Somehow this was missed on the inspection so we're stuck with dealing with it and paying for it.
And there you have it, a lot of stuff all at once in life. I guess that's the way life goes. Good stuff can be hard and bad stuff can be hard. Things always work out and everything comes to some kind of resolution whether it is a new baby entering the world and jobs changing, a life leaving the world or renovations you weren't intending to do needing to be done.
March on.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
UGH
Apparently insomnia in pregnancy is not so terribly rare. I had the I-need-to-pee-every-hour at the end of things with Ella, but this is full on lie awake, can't fall back asleep insomnia. Last night I slept until Ben came to bed and that motion of the bed woke me up at 11:45 and I could not fall back asleep. I read. I listened to meditations. I had a snack. I tossed. I turned.
The big problem is with only 3 hours sleep I get even more nauseous than normal. Today I had a long day of teaching planned, then needed to jump in the car, drive out to Acton and do a job interview for a summer position.
I dropped Ella off and drove back home and lay down on the couch. I seriously feel like I can barely move. After talking with Ben and texting my best friend I made the call to cancel teaching.
The whole thing makes me want to cry. This can't go on. I need to sleep. I have to be able to function and get through the rest of the semester and run our household.
Sunday night was much the same as this so I got about 3 hours that night and Monday, a home day with Ella was brutal in ways you cannot even imagine.
Please, please, please Universe make it STOP!
The big problem is with only 3 hours sleep I get even more nauseous than normal. Today I had a long day of teaching planned, then needed to jump in the car, drive out to Acton and do a job interview for a summer position.
I dropped Ella off and drove back home and lay down on the couch. I seriously feel like I can barely move. After talking with Ben and texting my best friend I made the call to cancel teaching.
The whole thing makes me want to cry. This can't go on. I need to sleep. I have to be able to function and get through the rest of the semester and run our household.
Sunday night was much the same as this so I got about 3 hours that night and Monday, a home day with Ella was brutal in ways you cannot even imagine.
Please, please, please Universe make it STOP!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
One of those days.
You ever have one of those days where you feel like you completely lost your mind? That was me, pretty much from the moment I rolled out of bed this morning. Not my best day. I'm hoping sometime between now and tomorrow at 6am my mind returns and I can stop feeling like a freaking looney beeyotch.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Thought of the Day
I'd normally put this stuff on Facebook, but since I'm still in the not telling phase of pregnancy, I'll put it here instead:
Going through maternity clothes is one part fascination "oh, I forgot I had that" and one part horror "Dear God, I'm going to be THAT big? I'd forgotten that."
Had to pull out maternity capris and loose t-shirts today because the temps are in the 70's in March and my belly no longer works with my regular pants and t-shirts. The good thing is I have a fair number of items from post-pregnancy that should work for the next few weeks to get me to the point of going public and openly embracing stretchy panel front bottoms and empire waist, extra material in the front tops.
Going through maternity clothes is one part fascination "oh, I forgot I had that" and one part horror "Dear God, I'm going to be THAT big? I'd forgotten that."
Had to pull out maternity capris and loose t-shirts today because the temps are in the 70's in March and my belly no longer works with my regular pants and t-shirts. The good thing is I have a fair number of items from post-pregnancy that should work for the next few weeks to get me to the point of going public and openly embracing stretchy panel front bottoms and empire waist, extra material in the front tops.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Raising a Strong Girl
There's no question I'm a mom with opinions and ideas about how I want my daughter to be raised: to be a citizen of the world, with a knowledge of other cultures and the extreme priveledges we experience in this country. From the way we live our daily lives, I know she will end up with values similar to ours, and, I hope, a desire to live her life in a conscious way.
The other thing I feel strongly about is a dislike of the Disney Princess Mecca and Barbie. Both leave my feminist undies in a knot when I think about the messages they send to little girls, how they place such value on your appearance and not on your person. I'm not a fan of commercialized everything from toothpaste to diapers to bedding and have gone to great lengths at times to search out non-branded toys and kiddo crap. I want my daughter to know she is beautiful, not for her appearance alone, but for her sensibility, her intelligence and her abilities.
It was with great joy that I got to read Peggy Orenstein's CINDERELLA ATE MY DAUGHTER this week. She addresses the Disney Princess craze, Barbie, American Girl Dolls and the like. I feel sort of lost as to how to navigate what lies ahead in the dolls/toys realm and know it isn't realistic to keep her so sheltered from what's out there because this fall at pre-school I have a feeling she'll see it all. Orenstein's own candor about struggling through this with her own daughter was reassuring in a 'misery loves company' kind of way.
It was interesting to learn that almost each category began with its own merits but morphed into something akin to anathema when marketers took over. Once upon a time the Disney stories were just stories in books and movies. Barbie was a feminist creation of sorts in a backlash against Roosevelt's calling for girls to play with dolls so they'd want to have children. American Girl dolls were the solution to the oversexed pinup appearance to Barbie (it was then sold by the creator to Mattel, the very maker of Barbie...how's that for ironic?). Now they all come with incredible amounts of swag that is mostly pink, conveying overt messages of consumerism and a message that girls are valued for their appearance. It hard to put one's finger on exactly how these messages hurt our girls, but I think we see it in eating disorders, body perception issues, poor relationship choices and a loss of confidence in themselves.
As Orenstein says of the Disney Princess world, "Let's review: princesses avoid female bonding. Their goals are to be saved by a prince, get married...and be taken care of for the rest of their lives. Their value derives largely from their appearance. They are rabid materialists....And yet...parents cannot resist them." That is so not what I want my daughter to go after in life.
So far we have no Disney in our house. We have no Barbie either, though she's seen it in Maine where her cousin was introduced to Barbie at a young age and gone on to fully invest in it. We have only regular baby dolls, nothing from the American Girl Doll empire. Yet I know all of this lies just around the corner. So when she asks for it, what do I do? I know full well that too much denial of things on my part will only lead to greater demand and the last thing I want is to force her into a place where she wants it all the more because I've said no. However, it doesn't seem as though there's a way to realistically discuss issues of body and materialism with the 3 year old crowd.
How does one navigate the world of girly-girl culture that is oh-so pervasive to raise a girl who has a strong sense of herself, who knows that her beauty is not her ticket to life and holds values that don't include owning as much stuff as possible? Orenstein doesn't claim to have all the answers. Some things she talks about, we do. When television is watched (usually Elmo's world. sometimes SuperWhy and Wiggles) I watch with her. We spend a lot of time doing random art projects of mucking around in the yard (which she calls 'the field'), picking up sticks, playing stuck in the mud, hide and go seek and kicking a ball. Orenstein did some leg work for the rest of us by finding some videos that cast girls in a positive light. Mulan is one Disney movie that has a strong female protagonist. She also talks about a film maker named Hayao Miyazaki who offers female characters of substance. In an ironic twist, these films are distributed by Disney in the US.
Her book doesn't give me a solution to what to do when Ella encounters Princess-Land and comes home asking for things. I think my tactic is to decide how much is enough and hold the line. Some exposure isn't bad. I realize I might get stuck watching some crap films where I want desperately to add my own snide commentary, but I'll try to bite my tongue. I've encouraged family to give toys that aren't in the pink realm. Maybe she'll be interested in Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys. Perhaps some figurines instead of films will allow for her to write her own princess story.
As with most of parenting I think I'll have to wing it when the time comes and rely on what my intuition tells me and find a way to talk about things in age appropriate ways.
The other thing I feel strongly about is a dislike of the Disney Princess Mecca and Barbie. Both leave my feminist undies in a knot when I think about the messages they send to little girls, how they place such value on your appearance and not on your person. I'm not a fan of commercialized everything from toothpaste to diapers to bedding and have gone to great lengths at times to search out non-branded toys and kiddo crap. I want my daughter to know she is beautiful, not for her appearance alone, but for her sensibility, her intelligence and her abilities.
It was with great joy that I got to read Peggy Orenstein's CINDERELLA ATE MY DAUGHTER this week. She addresses the Disney Princess craze, Barbie, American Girl Dolls and the like. I feel sort of lost as to how to navigate what lies ahead in the dolls/toys realm and know it isn't realistic to keep her so sheltered from what's out there because this fall at pre-school I have a feeling she'll see it all. Orenstein's own candor about struggling through this with her own daughter was reassuring in a 'misery loves company' kind of way.
It was interesting to learn that almost each category began with its own merits but morphed into something akin to anathema when marketers took over. Once upon a time the Disney stories were just stories in books and movies. Barbie was a feminist creation of sorts in a backlash against Roosevelt's calling for girls to play with dolls so they'd want to have children. American Girl dolls were the solution to the oversexed pinup appearance to Barbie (it was then sold by the creator to Mattel, the very maker of Barbie...how's that for ironic?). Now they all come with incredible amounts of swag that is mostly pink, conveying overt messages of consumerism and a message that girls are valued for their appearance. It hard to put one's finger on exactly how these messages hurt our girls, but I think we see it in eating disorders, body perception issues, poor relationship choices and a loss of confidence in themselves.
As Orenstein says of the Disney Princess world, "Let's review: princesses avoid female bonding. Their goals are to be saved by a prince, get married...and be taken care of for the rest of their lives. Their value derives largely from their appearance. They are rabid materialists....And yet...parents cannot resist them." That is so not what I want my daughter to go after in life.
So far we have no Disney in our house. We have no Barbie either, though she's seen it in Maine where her cousin was introduced to Barbie at a young age and gone on to fully invest in it. We have only regular baby dolls, nothing from the American Girl Doll empire. Yet I know all of this lies just around the corner. So when she asks for it, what do I do? I know full well that too much denial of things on my part will only lead to greater demand and the last thing I want is to force her into a place where she wants it all the more because I've said no. However, it doesn't seem as though there's a way to realistically discuss issues of body and materialism with the 3 year old crowd.
How does one navigate the world of girly-girl culture that is oh-so pervasive to raise a girl who has a strong sense of herself, who knows that her beauty is not her ticket to life and holds values that don't include owning as much stuff as possible? Orenstein doesn't claim to have all the answers. Some things she talks about, we do. When television is watched (usually Elmo's world. sometimes SuperWhy and Wiggles) I watch with her. We spend a lot of time doing random art projects of mucking around in the yard (which she calls 'the field'), picking up sticks, playing stuck in the mud, hide and go seek and kicking a ball. Orenstein did some leg work for the rest of us by finding some videos that cast girls in a positive light. Mulan is one Disney movie that has a strong female protagonist. She also talks about a film maker named Hayao Miyazaki who offers female characters of substance. In an ironic twist, these films are distributed by Disney in the US.
Her book doesn't give me a solution to what to do when Ella encounters Princess-Land and comes home asking for things. I think my tactic is to decide how much is enough and hold the line. Some exposure isn't bad. I realize I might get stuck watching some crap films where I want desperately to add my own snide commentary, but I'll try to bite my tongue. I've encouraged family to give toys that aren't in the pink realm. Maybe she'll be interested in Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys. Perhaps some figurines instead of films will allow for her to write her own princess story.
As with most of parenting I think I'll have to wing it when the time comes and rely on what my intuition tells me and find a way to talk about things in age appropriate ways.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
You heard it here first...
I had a dream.
No, not that kind of dream.
It was a crazy pregnancy dream which I seem to specialize in when I'm expecting. In the dream I had the baby - a boy weighing 7lbs 1oz. We'll see come the fall if my subconscious is somehow able to predict the future. Though given the rest of the dream, I kind of hope not.
In any event, in the dream I was nursing and feeling very grateful that this child was a much better nurser than the Shorty. I finished one side, put him down to switch sides, went to pick him up again and couldn't find him. For three days. In that time I realized I had no memory of the time right after delivery but I was pretty sure the midwives hadn't handed me the baby right after he came out and he hadn't nursed to get any colostrum and therefore my milk hadn't come in (I realize in real life that makes no sense, but whatevs. Ride along here with my addled, hormone saturated, losing mass brain).
So, even though I couldn't find the baby, off I went to get 3 ounces (apparently I was sure that was all I would need) of formula to feed him. Wherever he was. I went to the store and came back and eventually found the baby strapped into his car seat where he was emaciated and near death. I fed him and he lived.
Nice. Really nice.
I'm pretty sure this dream was inspired by a section of the book BAD MOTHER where the author had a baby with a cleft palate who couldn't nurse, but no one knew this and he nearly starved until she took him to the doctor to see why he felt so light and discovered he had gotten no food in many days. I finished reading that book over a week ago. Apparently it took my mind some time to be able to convert her experience into something that I could be anxious about.
Ah, me. Last night I had a dream about a woman I know who is about 5 weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy. In the dream she had delivered her baby and was experiencing terrible post-partum depression, crying 24/7. No one but me thought this wasn't normal. In the dream their baby also had an adult size head and a five o'clock shadow (it was also a boy)....Jaysus. You'd think I was eating super spicy food before bed or something.
Stay tuned for more from the annals of Sarah's brain on pregnancy. Yikes.
No, not that kind of dream.
It was a crazy pregnancy dream which I seem to specialize in when I'm expecting. In the dream I had the baby - a boy weighing 7lbs 1oz. We'll see come the fall if my subconscious is somehow able to predict the future. Though given the rest of the dream, I kind of hope not.
In any event, in the dream I was nursing and feeling very grateful that this child was a much better nurser than the Shorty. I finished one side, put him down to switch sides, went to pick him up again and couldn't find him. For three days. In that time I realized I had no memory of the time right after delivery but I was pretty sure the midwives hadn't handed me the baby right after he came out and he hadn't nursed to get any colostrum and therefore my milk hadn't come in (I realize in real life that makes no sense, but whatevs. Ride along here with my addled, hormone saturated, losing mass brain).
So, even though I couldn't find the baby, off I went to get 3 ounces (apparently I was sure that was all I would need) of formula to feed him. Wherever he was. I went to the store and came back and eventually found the baby strapped into his car seat where he was emaciated and near death. I fed him and he lived.
Nice. Really nice.
I'm pretty sure this dream was inspired by a section of the book BAD MOTHER where the author had a baby with a cleft palate who couldn't nurse, but no one knew this and he nearly starved until she took him to the doctor to see why he felt so light and discovered he had gotten no food in many days. I finished reading that book over a week ago. Apparently it took my mind some time to be able to convert her experience into something that I could be anxious about.
Ah, me. Last night I had a dream about a woman I know who is about 5 weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy. In the dream she had delivered her baby and was experiencing terrible post-partum depression, crying 24/7. No one but me thought this wasn't normal. In the dream their baby also had an adult size head and a five o'clock shadow (it was also a boy)....Jaysus. You'd think I was eating super spicy food before bed or something.
Stay tuned for more from the annals of Sarah's brain on pregnancy. Yikes.
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