Getting off the Runaway Train

Preface: I should not complain about being active, doing things we love outdoors, seeing family, or filling our life with wonderful things I have longed to do for years now.

That said, I am SO glad the time has come when all those things are slowing down and/or coming to a close. I am feeling pulled in so many directions I can’t decide where to go first. Autumn and the holidays will still be busy, but hunting season is almost over, and I’m done teaching self-defense classes for now.

I love the adventures we often have as a family, but I’m noticing that my wee Crazy Towhead is a little strung out and more sensitive lately. This always weirds me out. She is such a good, easy-going, up-for-anything-we-throw-at-her kind of kid that she’s become my barometer for how we’re doing. If she’s “off” – not sleeping well, cranky, overly teary – then there’s usually some part of our lives that needs adjusting. And right now that barometric pressure is dropping. She’s my same happy laughing girl, but certain things are telling me that we’ve had too much for too long.

So, in small moments we’re learning to re-set the pace. There is a concept/practice in Aikido that allows the person being attacked, the nage ( pronounced nah-gay), to take a fast incoming attack and diffuse that speed during the technique or throw so that they are the one who sets the pace, not the attacker. The attacker, or uke (pronounced ooo-kay) can come in as fast as they want to, and although the initial reaction must match the speed of the incoming attack, once contact is made the nage can blend and slow things down to a pace that they are comfortable with. I keep thinking of this in terms of life events: No matter what the world throws at us, we are the ones who ultimately decide where and how that momentum is directed in our lives. It also helps me remember that I am not subject to the external stresses of life – the worls can throw what it wants at me, but I am the one who ultimately decides how it affects me.

But with autumn in the air and colder temps setting in I am all about sitting on the couch in front of a fire, knitting, and listening to some good music. I’m even thinking of taking up audio books. I’ve never been an audio books fan. I’d rather have music on long drives, and playing them at home always seemed silly. Me? Sit still that long? Who are we kidding here? But now that CT is so much more self-sufficient and I can knit for more than 30 seconds at a time (instead of waiting until after she’s asleep) suddenly audio books are sounding like a nice alternative to evening TV. I don’t suppose any of you out there have any good suggestions?

In general I feel blessed and loved, content and grateful. I love this time of year.

Did I mention that down the street there are the most amazing combination of changing leaves? A bright red maple across the street from an orange one and a brilliant yellow one sitting side-by-side, each bordered by evergreens. There’s also a wonderful tree around here, the larch (or tamrack). It’s a deciduous evergreen, and although it’s not quite as stunning as the huge aspen groves in the Sierras it made for a beautiful sight as we were out cutting wood this weekend.

I Must Know It ALL Now: or, Why? Who? What? Where? How? When?

I have anticipated this moment for years. Daydreamed about the smart, balanced and witty responses I would give when my girl got to this age. How we would sit together in front of the computer and look up answers to all those elusive questions, like “Do sharks have ears?” (We looked that one up last night). The science experiments we would perform in the kitchen to discover what happens when you mix yellow and blue, or you stick a magnet in water. Kids should ask questions, and I want(ed) to give her the honest, thought-provoking answers her little mind wants, needs, and deserves. (You’d think after 3 years I’d have lost that idealist tendency.)

I’ve also dreaded the constant flow of questions. You know, the 15 that come flooding out of her mouth before I’ve had breakfast (idealist tendencies fade drastically at 6am). Especially the ones that repeat and have no purpose – “Mom, why didn’t you let me wear a dress at school pictures?” As with all aspects of life, there can be too much of a good thing. I love her curiosity. I love that she’s  stubborn,  opinionated, and feisty as well as being gentle, loving, and helpful. That is, I love it in the right mixture. When all I get is the first three along with a lot of questions and demands I get, as my girl says, “cranky.”

The other day was the perfect example of why I love and hate this phase.

Towhead and I were leaving swim lessons when Mr. A called. We were both tired and decided to splurge for the first time in over a month and go out to eat. After getting in the car, I told Towhead we were off to meet Dad for Mexican food.

“What that sticking out of that car?” she asked. Huh? Subject change. OK.

“That? That’s a tailpipe sweetie.” I shut the door and get in the car.

“But why is it there?” she continues.

“It lets out all the bad smoke from the engine.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise the car would blow up.”

“But that car doesn’t have one,” she points out as we drive through the parking lot.

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes. It does. All cars have them. You may not be able to see it because it’s hiding under the bumper, but it’s there.”

“No it’s not.”

“Sure it is. I’ll show you when we get to the restaurant. There look at the car next to us. See that pipe sticking out the side. Right next to you. That’s it’s tailpipe.”

“Oh. But our car doesn’t have one.”

“Yes. It does,” I say trying not to grit my teeth. “Want me to show you when we get to the restaurant?”

“Sure. Can I have chicken fingers?”

“I’m not sure they have chicken fingers. But we’ll check on the menu and see what they’ve got. Maybe rice and beans.”

“What’s a menu?”

“The thing that lists all the food you can get at the restaurant.”

“Mama, there’s my moon!”

“Yup.”

“It’s a half-circle. How come it’s not a circle?”

I launched into the hole schpeel about how the sun and earth move and that changes how much of the moon you can see. It’s always a circle you just can’t always see it all. I should mention that I’ve given this speech at least 5 or 6 times already. Also, keep in mind that this was only the first two minutes of a 5-minute long car ride. Questions continued rapid-fire and in totally random order. And even after that I spent a minute or two in the parking lot proving to her that yes, each car has a tailpipe but that they’re sometimes in different locations on the car.

I”m not sure how long I can keep it up. The good news is that I prepared for some of this years ago when I bought the Handy Science Answer Book. That and the web make answering random questions a lot easier. I just don’t think I was anticipating that all those questions would come at me in such a rapid fire fashion. Or that she would argue with me about the answers I give her!! I shouldn’t say anything (insert my mom’s laughter here) because I know I did the same thing to my mother. She’s learning and right now her own experience, limited though it may be, is as powerful as anything I say. Damn her for being as stubborn and feisty as her mother!

Mr. A, being the youngest of three, has a great sense of humor over things like this. A sadistic sense of humor, but funny nonetheless. I must learn this skill. I get too sucked in and actually try to answer all her questions.  Because I love to teach, I love to see the lightbulbs go on. I realize now that much of that will never change. The world is an amazing place and I want nothing more than to continue to explore it with her, and show her all it has to offer. But I’ve also noticed recently that I’m beginning, in my tired, working mom world to take it too seriously.

No more. The boxing gloves are off and the whoopie cushions are out, baby.

A bright day in a different world

She sits in front of a computer screen, staring at graphs and models that represent computer software functionality. It feels like a different world.

 It is a different world.

 The schedule she used to keep was organic and her day developed based on the needs of the moment. Life was creative, active, and responsive. If her girl needed to be held so she could sleep, an hour might pass with little to no concern over meeting a certain timeline. She would get to the next task at hand, say doing the dishes or going to the library, when they were done with this one. It seemed like her brain was always working on new ways to meet three kinds of needs: intellectual stimulation (both for her and for the kid), physical activity (which made everyone less cranky), and the basic cooking, cleaning, and organizational tasks that made life run smoothly and kept everyone sane. That was her job in a nutshell: maintain everyone’s sanity. But there was so much room for goofiness, and observing things people tend to take for granted. The world was a fascinating place and it was her job to show the wee girl how wonderful it could be.

 Fast forward to the office setting. Large dirty windows, bagels and coffee in the breakroom, and the sound of computer mice scratching the desks. In this new world there were firm timelines, schedules. There was more intellectual stimulation, which was good. This job provided new challenges, a new focus, and a sense of purpose. She enjoyed it. And she began to remember what life was like before the birth of her sweet gal. It was like meeting herself all over again, and there was a continual sense of déjà vu. In many ways it felt like waking up from a long pause. But as the days passed she realized that she missed in little inanities: dancing in the living room, cleaning playdough off the floor, making binoculars out of toilet paper tubes, walking to the park. She missed making up stories about princesses and monsters who, according to the kid, seemed to hide in steeples and office buildings around town.

 But unlike most stories or character portraits there was no resolution to this scenario, no epiphanic moment, no ironic twist. This was just people, be they adult or child, evolving as individuals and moving on to different things. On grey days when everything was an argument and exhaustion was the norm, this new turn of events felt like a road stretching across the flatlands, leading toward nothing but more of the same. But on a bright day that included giggles at the breakfast table, it was a new adventure that pushed them try new things – a way to avoid settling into a mediocre routine. It was change that made them continually look for ways to make life more fun, change that kept them from taking things for granted.

Working Girl

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, so I suppose I have some updating to do before I begin to wax poetic about life and current events. I am now working full time for a software company (the change in life path and career choice are material for a whole other blog entry), Crazy Towhead is in preschool full-time, and our day-to-day has a totally different flavor than it used to. The funny thing is that it hasn’t thrown our lives into total upheaval (yet). The laundry and the dishes are lagging a bit, but how we operate, how we communicate, and the general way we all behave toward each other hasn’t really changed much. It helped that we had three weeks between when I accepted the position and my actual start date so the transition was fairly gradual. And although it’s definitely a change, this feels like a change we were ready for.

Now, everyone tells me that the minute I say this something will explode and it will all go down the shitter. I know this. But I am currently pretending to be Egyptian and living in Denial, so leave me alone and let me enjoy my moment in the all-is-good-and-I-am-in-control-of-my-life sun. I like the sun.

That’s it really. The job is good so far, mostly because I haven’t had to do much yet. It’s hard to know how I’ll like it when all my job consists of so far is reading and observing operations. There will be updates as often as I can manage them, photos when I get around to downloading them, and recipes once in a blue moon. Creative works and research projects have been cancelled until further notice (not that they were making much progress anyway). :)

Boy and Girl Parts

Life with a three-year old means you never know when those awkward questions and observations are going to pop up. While on the potty this morning Crazy Towhead decides to tell me that, “Boys have long butts. Girls don’t. You know, like Daddy. So they can pee different than me.”

She may not know the terminology but she tells it like it is. I love this age. Life is so simple and straightforward in her eyes. But moreso I love her personality and how she takes everything in stride. This will come in handy here soon when I go back to work and she heads to school for the first time.

Yep, I said it. Here I have been embracing my domestic side and “sticking with what I know” and now Fate has turned it all upside down. I’m beginning to think Heisse Schiesse’s battle with Ironus has switched continents and I’m the latest victim. I’m excited about a change but this is going to be a huge change for all of us.

Stick to What you Know

OK, so I haven’t quite kept up with my promise to blog more often. The truth is there are tons of things I’m interested in and want to comment on: the tragedy of Afghan girls being sprayed with acid for trying to attend school, the idiocy of Fox News reporters who compared global warming to their thyriod problem, my outrage at doctors who help a single mom give birth to 8 more kids she can’t support while we admonish developing nations like India to hand out birth control and reign in their rampant population growth. I’m at no loss of things to say, but I lack the time for  the research and reflection I want to back up my opinion. So I’ve decided instead of feeling inadequate that I cannot add political commentator to my already long list of jobs, I’ll write more about what I’ve been occupying my time doing, learning, and refining these past few months. Yep, you guessed it: domestic shit. But hey, aren’t we all domestic beings at one time or another?

I’ll start with crafts. For Christmas I decided to make lacing cards for my niece and CT. They were surprising easy. I pasted pictures onto a lightweight cardboard, put contact paper on both sides, and punched holes in the card. Plastic tapestry needles tied to a long bit of yarn were the finishing touch.

We had some cloth bags in the closet that our sheets came in. These worked great to keep everything contained.

 

I also spent quite a bit of time over the holidays knitting. I made scarf for Mr. A’s sister. I learned how to knit from a wonderful friend of mine in early 2005.  At the time I was on fire; I couldn’t sit still. There was so much I wanted to do and to accomplish. Mr. A was out in the field, tracking sage grouse, and I had made an abitious list of goals to keep my mind off the fact that I missed him. It backfired. I ended up with a sinus infection, but even then I couldn’t stop. I barely had the energy to walk from the sofa to the kitchen, but I remember setting a lawnchair next to the garden so I could weed and plant for a couple minutes at a time.  I felt like an old woman who was determined to live with a vengance even though my body couldn’t keep up. Knitting saved me. It gave me something to focus on while my body was allowed to rest. I’m normally not that driven; I know when to rest. But that point in time was an anomoly.

My knitting hasn’t progressed much beyond hats and scarves. More complicated pieces are hard with a kid running around. But it still helps me relax. And I guess I just like making things – whether it’s writing, cooking, drawing, or crafty stuff, I like to create. Anyway, this is the latest completed project.

 

For the next post I’ll probably be in the kitchen, the place my research, our lifestyle, and our stomachs keep leading me back to.

Birthday for Me, Halloween for Us, Votes for Them

Self-portrait on my birthday.

Am I on a narcisistic bent? After my List of 99 it may feel like it, but not really. Self-exploration maybe. Reflection. I do that a lot in the fall. I was thinking yesterday that the seasons are a lot like fire. In spring things are just getting started, sometimes they seem to be ebbing back into darkness, the next moment flaring to life as things try to find their purchase and come to life. Summer is a roaring blaze – no imagination needed there. Fall, though, is like a thick bed of coals, providing warmth and more quiet time for sitting around talking, relaxing, and reflecting on the day. I like Fall. I always have. I’ve always blamed it on my birthday but as I get older and birthdays are less of a big deal, I don’t think so. I like the sense of community that somes with “harvest time,” though the actual harvest is a reality for only a few in current times. But there are so many activities and celebrations this time of year it gives a feeling of solidarity, community, and warmth as the days begin to get colder.

I’m also doing the legwork involved in entering back into the workforce. Reluctantly, I might add. I like what I’ve been doing. Teaching my kid about the world. Taking the time to do things how I want, instead of settling for what time allows. Choosing the projects I volunteer for and get involved in. But I’m also looking at my resume and feeling the need to explain to myself why I haven’t been ambitious enough to take on more, to write more, to accomplish something that sounds impressive. Call it ego, but self-justification and self-esteeem matter. And the “but raising your kids is important” line only gets me so far. Yes, when I look around my house, and observe my husband, my dog, my kid, I am proud and satisfied that I do everything I can for them and that all of us seem content, crazy, and healthy enough to cause mischief. But I’ve always been afraid of settling for mediocrity, of becoming so content that I cease to grow as a person, or stop learning things and pushing myself to do and be more than what I am. That is what scares me about motherhood. It is so all-consuming sometimes that I’m afraid I’ll slip into that state and never know it happened. But I also worry about becoming so obsessed with “getting things done” that I’ll miss all the wonders of the experience. It’s a fine line to walk, and I often feel off balance. But balance is important in all things, and it’s good that the concept stays at the forefront of my mind.

In other news, I am happy to say I voted early! I keep laughing becasue this is probably the closest I have ever followed an election campaign, and the most research I have ever done about the issues and the candidates I voted for. And yet, from day one, there really was no question about who I was voting for! I hope after another 8 years of repair maybe the country I’ve grown to love will be back where it was before the millenium started and not in the hole this administration has dug for us. I have more hope for the world my daughter inherits than this.

And speaking of my daughter, here she is in all her Halloween splendor! There were multiple costumes throughout the day dug from the dress up box. But these were my favorites:

They’re in my belly

I’m horrible about blogging regularly. I like posts to be at least somewhat thought-out. And now that Crazy Towhead has begun to give up naps I no longer have that nice block of time to blog in the afternoon. Ok, so I didn’t blog every afternoon, but once a week isn’t bad with all the other tasks I typically reserved for naptime. Suffice to say that my computer time has been at a minimum lately. Add to this that the only subjects I feel like talking about (and sometimes ranting about) lately are political or religious in nature, both of which are fairly taboo in my extended family, which is the majority of my readership. But yesterday, while taking a long walk with the Mutt and the Towhead, we had a conversation that left me puzzled and amused. This one was worth making time for.

CT and I were walking along a rural road near our neighborhood. As on most of our walks we end up talking. I would be ok just walking. That’s why we walk: exercise for the dog, stress release for mama. But CT’s brain is too active for that: “what’s that?” “why that horse want to stand there?” “who live in that house?” On this particular walk we stopped to look at a Christamas tree farm, and I tried explaining the age of the trees in terms of family, i.e which ones are babies, big kids, mamas, grandpas etc.

Soon thereafter CT told me that she liked kitties, in fact she had little kitties at home. Really? I said, knowing that we don’t own cats and never will. “Yeah they’re in my tummy,” she said. They haven’t been born yet. They’re in my belly still.”

I paused. This was not something I expected to come out of my kid’s mouth. But I was curious. “Oh. I didn’t know people could have kitties?”

“Yeah. And I have a daddy kitty too. He’s at home.”

I was surprised, confused, and a bit proud. Surprised that she chose cats to focus on, confused because this is not something I’ve talked to her very much about, and proud because my kid seems to have caught on to the whole life process thing in a fairly healthy and unassuming way. She was very nonchalant about the whole thing. Bellies are just where things exist before they’re born. Which, ironically is how I think of all things. Ideas, creative thoughts, actions, and babies all come from your center – this is where everything originates.

It must have been the family theme that got her thinking. Imaginative play has been pretty big lately. And we’re moving into a stage where she’s making up stories pretty regularly, and trying to talk to me in the same tone as other adults about things she has or stuff she’s done. I must admit though that this was not as big of a shocker as when she first held one of her dolls under her shirt and told me she was feeding her baby, “Suzy’s hungry. She’s eating my belly.” This at least will mean that I have less explaining to do if we ever have another wee one. But I’m beginning to think that my habit of being truthful and literal with my kid may begin to backfire on me in ways I never imagined here soon.

On How to Treat Dental Rash

This may be a bit out of sync chronologically but it’s too good a story not to share.

One of our first mornings in Portland visiting Mr. A’s sister and her family, I woke up bleary-eyed and tired after a late night of talking, eating, and catching up with family. I went in to take a shower since the kids were entertaining themselves watching “Wow, Wow, Wubzy” (groan. my frustration with Nick Jr. is another story entirely). Hot showers are how I wake up, rejuvenate, and convince myself that I really do have the energy and stamina to carry on in spite of body aches and little sleep. I love ADORE hot showers. I also adore camping trips like the one we’d just returned from, full of wildflowers, shallow rivers to wade in, and campfire smoke that permeates every article of clothing I own. I love getting dirty. And I LOVE getting clean afterwards.

So I get out of the shower, dry myself off and pull out the toothbrush. No toothpaste. Mr. A has not unpacked his bathroom bag with the toothpaste yet. Damnit. OK, Mrs. L (Mr. A’s sis) must have some spare toothpaste up here in the medicine cabinet somewhere. So I search. Keep in mind, having just gotten out of the shower I do not have my glasses on. Without them I can see fine, provided the object is within 2-3 inches of my face. After that I’m living in fuzzy -blur world. So I get my face inside, and I mean directly inside the medicine cabinet and I find a tube of toothpaste. I squeeze it onto the brush and begin scrubbing. But something doesn’t feel right. No suds. No foam. So I scrub a little harder, a little more. No, something’s not right. The toothpaste feels tacky, pasty. I keep brushing. It takes me a minute in my still-waking-up state to realize that perhaps what I put on my toothbrush was not toothpaste??

“Noooo!” is all they heard from the other end of the hall. All I could think was “Surely, I am not stupid enough to have made this mistake.” But, I did. In my blinded, going-through-the-morning-routine-on-autopilot mode I really did grab the other staple, besides toothpaste, that’s in the medicine cabinet of every toddler’s mom – Diaper paste. Yep, butt paste for the gums. And, man is that shit hard to clean out of toothbrush.

I can’t wait until I can afford Lasik.

Lost and Found

Hello, my name is Mrs. A and I have a confession to make. I have been brainwashed by my child. The crazy towhead has taken over my brain in a way I thought was never possible. I mean, I worked at a pre-school for years! I thought I was immune, or at least forewarned that this type of thing can happen if you’re not careful. I’m ashamed of myself, and a tad disappointed.

 I woke up this morning as if out of a fog. (Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I got 9 hours sleep for the first time in over 6 months.) I realized that there’s been something wrong with me for some time now. I go to sleep singing Sesame Street (and worse, Caillou) songs. Yesterday I wrote out a grocery list in crayon without thinking it was funny or ironic. The towhead took a bite out of some playdough the other day and I became angry instead of laughing as she tried to pick the chunks out of her teeth. In the midst of playing blocks, dollies, and pirates I seem to have lost something – my sense of humor!

Like old pictures you discover while cleaning out the closet, I seem to have looked inside myself this morning and exclaimed, “I forgot I had that!”  Deep in the midst of packing I begin to see parallels. Things are not where I last put them, but buried in a box somewhere. And with the stacks of boxes rapidly filling the garage, I’m not even sure which box anymore. But I have to find it, even if it takes Monty Python, the Three Stooges, and a flashlight. We will search until the wee hours of the morning – slapstick, British-humor, and all – until I find the Knights who say Ni, who I’m positive are using my sense of humor as a tennis ball amidst the shrubbery. 

Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. So here I go. I miss dirty jokes and raunchy references in conversation.  I used to use chopsticks for just about everything, from eating noodles to salad. I don’t anymore, and I’m not sure why. As much as I LOVE training aikido, I really miss putting on sparring gear and trying to slam my foot into the side of someone’s head. The knife that sat on my nightstand for years, right next to the book I was reading, has been relegated to a drawer somewhere where towhead can’t find it. Though it’s absence, and towhead’s fingers and body parts fully in tact, are not something I regret, I can’t remember the last time I played with my knives.

I’ve always pitied women who had kids and then became nothing but their children. In this long and wonderful life I object to letting any person dominate your identity, be it your kid, your spouse, or a role model. There are too many amazing things hidden inside, each one of them worth exploring. And I’ve let that voice inside me become stifled after too many years of careful cultivation.

So if you hear loud bawdy songs floating through the frigid air sometime soon, it’s just me, reconnecting with my dark side.