"Use your words" is probably the phrase I have said the most in the last 7 days. It's a phrase that has always made me cringe when moms say it to their toddlers and it still does even though I use it like a maniac. Unfortunately in the tradition of "mother knows best", moms have used it so much because it works so well. Charli is getting more independent and decisive by the day and while she's doing well with speaking, she's nowhere close to full sentences and having a vocab that expresses emotions- she's still working on the verbs and nouns.
I keep trying to think of a more creative, less irking, way to say it that will communicate to Charli what I want her to do. I wish I had time to say "Sweetheart, you aren't really a baby any more and while I understand you're still learning to speak, this whole screaming thing isn't working, could you try searching the 40 words you know and use one of them to help me understand a little better?" but "use your words" is quicker and more concise so it is what I find myself saying repeatedly.
I'm also realizing that I have to change a fair bit of my vocabulary. Firstly, words like "stupid" and "dumb" need to be eradicated. They don't have to but since I'm not going to let Charli say them, I want to set the example... and I probably shouldn't be the one she learns her unsay-able words from. Also, let's get real for a sec, should a grown woman really be using those words?
While I'm an open, fairly uninhibited person, I have no tolerance for potty-talk. And I do mean NO tolerance. In fact, if I had it my way, we'd never even say the word "bathroom" and revert to asking where the water closet is. A perfect world for me would definitely exclude the reality the we even have a need for the WC, other than to shower. However, I now have a little person who is in the beginning stages of potty training, so "peepee" and a few other words have been added to my vocabulary.
It is amazing to me how quickly and happily I will jump out of my comfort zone and alter pieces of me that I have refused to change for years simply because of one little pint sized person. She is cute, she is sometimes cuddly and she is growing up fast. My opportunity to love her and teach her the right things is not so long but incredibly important for how she sees God and people and the world. I have bigger battles to fight for her than what words I do or don't use and not enough time to do it all before she's off on her own and that is why if you play Word Bingo at my house anytime in the near future, you should include "use," "your" and "words."
Monday, February 25, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Chit chat and all that
Months and months have gone by. Charli is now 20 months old and she is more of a little girl than a baby in almost every area of life. Two months ago she really started to try to communicate using English, not just the few signs I had taught her. While her pronunciation needs some polishing up, she's come so far in such a short time and is about 6 months ahead of where the doctor expects her speech to be. I'm not sure whether to attribute it to her extreme smarts (inherited from her parents of course) or whether it's simply being the youngest person always having to try to keep up with the rest of us.
Either way, she has really mastered saying 'hi' and 'bye' along with every animal sound I could think of teaching her. In fact, we ran out of them so I taught her that a lizzard sticks it's tongue in and out and a giraffe says 'yum yum yum' as it eats leaves.
She's come up with her owns ways to say the names of her 4 grandparents and 13 aunts and uncles and her 2 Chinese brothers (our international students YW and TC). She knows to say 'yes' and 'no' when I ask if she wants something because I no longer respond to her head shaking.
Much to my delight, she's begun singing with me at the piano and in the car. Her favorite song right now is "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" with a second verse involving a lion taught to her by my friend Erin. 'Baa Baa Blacksheep' is a close second, always managing to rouse a concerned look when we mention the little boy who lives down the lane.
While all this English is wonderfully exciting, I've also tried to pass on a bit of my Zimbabwean heritage by teaching her to understand a few phrases in Shona. They're simple phrases really that I use over and over with her like "bata maoko" when I want her to clap or "usa netsa Chelsea" when she's poking the cat while he tries to nap. I don't expect her to become conversant in it (I'm not), I just want her to get used to hearing the sounds of it so she can more accurately pronounce the words when she gets older. However, these phrases always seem to cause a stir when used in public. At the very least people feel the need to clarify among themselves that I am indeed speaking a different language. I have a bad tendency of over/misusing the word 'iwei' which could be translated as 'hey you.' I would never say "hey you" to Charli to get her attention but somehow in Shona it just slips out. Unfortunately it sounds almost exactly the same as the way we pronounce YW's name. Thankfully he hasn't taken issue with the fact that in an effort to pass on some African heritage, I am simply confusing our whole household.
I can't believe how much Charli understands us and how much she can communicate back. I know that pretty soon she'll be learning her letters and numbers and explaining back to me how and why we use the forms of communication we use. Until then, I find myself soaking up the hugs and kisses that come so easily right now because I know that soon she will be able to communicate affection with words and while I hope the hugs and kisses never stop all together, as part of growing up, they'll be given less and less.
Either way, she has really mastered saying 'hi' and 'bye' along with every animal sound I could think of teaching her. In fact, we ran out of them so I taught her that a lizzard sticks it's tongue in and out and a giraffe says 'yum yum yum' as it eats leaves.
She's come up with her owns ways to say the names of her 4 grandparents and 13 aunts and uncles and her 2 Chinese brothers (our international students YW and TC). She knows to say 'yes' and 'no' when I ask if she wants something because I no longer respond to her head shaking.
Much to my delight, she's begun singing with me at the piano and in the car. Her favorite song right now is "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" with a second verse involving a lion taught to her by my friend Erin. 'Baa Baa Blacksheep' is a close second, always managing to rouse a concerned look when we mention the little boy who lives down the lane.
While all this English is wonderfully exciting, I've also tried to pass on a bit of my Zimbabwean heritage by teaching her to understand a few phrases in Shona. They're simple phrases really that I use over and over with her like "bata maoko" when I want her to clap or "usa netsa Chelsea" when she's poking the cat while he tries to nap. I don't expect her to become conversant in it (I'm not), I just want her to get used to hearing the sounds of it so she can more accurately pronounce the words when she gets older. However, these phrases always seem to cause a stir when used in public. At the very least people feel the need to clarify among themselves that I am indeed speaking a different language. I have a bad tendency of over/misusing the word 'iwei' which could be translated as 'hey you.' I would never say "hey you" to Charli to get her attention but somehow in Shona it just slips out. Unfortunately it sounds almost exactly the same as the way we pronounce YW's name. Thankfully he hasn't taken issue with the fact that in an effort to pass on some African heritage, I am simply confusing our whole household.
I can't believe how much Charli understands us and how much she can communicate back. I know that pretty soon she'll be learning her letters and numbers and explaining back to me how and why we use the forms of communication we use. Until then, I find myself soaking up the hugs and kisses that come so easily right now because I know that soon she will be able to communicate affection with words and while I hope the hugs and kisses never stop all together, as part of growing up, they'll be given less and less.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Charli's Angels and the Summer of 2012
There's only one day left in Summer 2012 and we have milked it for all it was worth (thus explaining my absence from all things internet, including this blog). The last 10 weeks have been cherished family time with Joel, Charli and I doing every budget friendly summer event we could think of. We did several road trips which were not budget friendly when gas is $4.15 a gallon but good for our hearts and mental state as we saw family and friends in Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York and Indiana. We had our share of car trouble which is also not budget friendly but not something we chose. And then there was the week long staycation we spent doing day trips to the surrounding areas. I finally made it to Boston, despite having lived so close for so long and the day was a full one starting with the Haymarket and ending with Mike's Pastry back at home after supper. I was surprised at how small the city was but soaked up the rich historical places mixed in among everyday life.
We took Charli on her first beach trip. After lugging every possible amenity from our car to the beachfront, covering her with more sunblock than even I needed and then strapping a HUGE hat to her head, I let her have free range on the surrounding area. She promptly grabbed a handful of sand, stuck it in her mouth and clapped for herself as she looked at me. I didn't see her swallow it but it did disappear so I'm assuming her digestive tract had adequate fiber intake that day. Yes, I did use the word 'amenity' before. I used to pride myself in packing light when going to the beach with only a towel, sunblock and a Coke. Suddenly, when my baby girl's skin and comfort was involved I found that I was not satisfied with those few things. We needed snacks and back-up bottles, an umbrella, chairs to put under that umbrella, a sheet and a grass mat to go on the ground in case the towels weren't enough and so the list went on. I'm thankful that my husband is a strong man who is as supportive as he is in helping with Charli, otherwise I might still be lugging beach swag back to our car.
We also celebrated our 4th anniversary that week and left Charli overnight for the first time with her uncle and aunt.
Charli and I watched Joel's softball team work their way from 8th to 3rd in the league this year, we did some day trips to parks nearby and hung out by her paddle pool that Ouma and Papisahn gave her. All 3 of us took regular walks around the yard at sunset, enjoying fresh tomatoes, peppers, eggplant and herbs from the garden. Grilling has allowed some great meals with friends and we have truly felt spoiled by an extravagant God.
This week Charli and I did a 600 mile road trip together while Joel stayed home with our two teen boys. We were in New Jersey for a friend's wedding and then went on to move my younger sister Julie to Philadelphia. My older sister Lindsey got to come do the move with us too but we ended up each having to drive our own cars. We set out early Monday morning following Julie to her new flat and it was something out of a movie. We were a caravan of three red cars: one convertible, one SUV and one... well, mine. All of us were ready to go, sunglasses on, phones on hand. Somewhere between blasting my front speakers with my summer favorites and playing follow-the-leader through city traffic in an effort to all stay together, I realized we should have our own theme music and maybe even some high tech gear... and let's be honest, with a blonde, a redhead and a brunette all being in the mix, we should be called something sassy like Charli's Angels. I laughed at such a silly thought because it seems like I should have grown out of those notions a long time ago and that my overactive imagination should have quieted now that I'm a mom. But it hasn't. And anyway, it didn't take long for me to turn it into a corny 'mom' thought too: in many ways, my sisters are some of Charli's many, many angels. They may not technically be heavenly beings but they are people who protect and bless my little girl by the way they care for and love on her. She has many people like that in her life. I am so thankful for the family and friends who are surrounding us and her, whether we saw you this summer or not, you are a part of making our lives richer and fuller and for that I will call you by whatever sassy title you want me to.
We took Charli on her first beach trip. After lugging every possible amenity from our car to the beachfront, covering her with more sunblock than even I needed and then strapping a HUGE hat to her head, I let her have free range on the surrounding area. She promptly grabbed a handful of sand, stuck it in her mouth and clapped for herself as she looked at me. I didn't see her swallow it but it did disappear so I'm assuming her digestive tract had adequate fiber intake that day. Yes, I did use the word 'amenity' before. I used to pride myself in packing light when going to the beach with only a towel, sunblock and a Coke. Suddenly, when my baby girl's skin and comfort was involved I found that I was not satisfied with those few things. We needed snacks and back-up bottles, an umbrella, chairs to put under that umbrella, a sheet and a grass mat to go on the ground in case the towels weren't enough and so the list went on. I'm thankful that my husband is a strong man who is as supportive as he is in helping with Charli, otherwise I might still be lugging beach swag back to our car.
We also celebrated our 4th anniversary that week and left Charli overnight for the first time with her uncle and aunt.
Charli and I watched Joel's softball team work their way from 8th to 3rd in the league this year, we did some day trips to parks nearby and hung out by her paddle pool that Ouma and Papisahn gave her. All 3 of us took regular walks around the yard at sunset, enjoying fresh tomatoes, peppers, eggplant and herbs from the garden. Grilling has allowed some great meals with friends and we have truly felt spoiled by an extravagant God.
This week Charli and I did a 600 mile road trip together while Joel stayed home with our two teen boys. We were in New Jersey for a friend's wedding and then went on to move my younger sister Julie to Philadelphia. My older sister Lindsey got to come do the move with us too but we ended up each having to drive our own cars. We set out early Monday morning following Julie to her new flat and it was something out of a movie. We were a caravan of three red cars: one convertible, one SUV and one... well, mine. All of us were ready to go, sunglasses on, phones on hand. Somewhere between blasting my front speakers with my summer favorites and playing follow-the-leader through city traffic in an effort to all stay together, I realized we should have our own theme music and maybe even some high tech gear... and let's be honest, with a blonde, a redhead and a brunette all being in the mix, we should be called something sassy like Charli's Angels. I laughed at such a silly thought because it seems like I should have grown out of those notions a long time ago and that my overactive imagination should have quieted now that I'm a mom. But it hasn't. And anyway, it didn't take long for me to turn it into a corny 'mom' thought too: in many ways, my sisters are some of Charli's many, many angels. They may not technically be heavenly beings but they are people who protect and bless my little girl by the way they care for and love on her. She has many people like that in her life. I am so thankful for the family and friends who are surrounding us and her, whether we saw you this summer or not, you are a part of making our lives richer and fuller and for that I will call you by whatever sassy title you want me to.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
One Year Ago Today
My precious Bug is a year old today. She looks older and all of a sudden is acting older too. She's so very aware of her surroundings and her extroverted little personality demands that anything she can interact with gets her attention (even if it's simply a radio that plays music back to whatever she says to it). She's wicked good at making eye contact, even with total strangers. She still waves non-stop but mostly because she now understands that you wave to say 'hello' and 'goodbye,' so while her wave to say 'hi' has found a normal duration, she now is adding in a wave to say 'bye'. She dances when she hears her music playing and claps her hands if she hears someone say 'good job' or 'good girl.' I've been made aware of the phrases I use most with her since they're the ones she best understands.Apparently one I've used a lot is "What's in your mouth."
Last week she started crawling and now there's no stopping her. Although she's happy to play by herself, I now have to keep a much more keen eye on what she's up to. The other day I saw she was chewing something that obviously wasn't food so I asked "What's in your mouth?" Without missing a beat she pulled out a chewed up bite of the junk mail I'd just set aside, showed it to me between two tiny fingers and then stuck it right back into her mouth for some finer grinding. She can tell by the intonation of my words whether she wants to respond to me or not, whether I'm coming from a positive or negative angle... and so the selective hearing is already beginning.
The close of our first year together feels pretty monumental and I've been a lot more emotional and sentimental these last few days than I expected. (Please don't let the frequency of the word 'mental' in the previous sentence be lost on you) Last night I couldn't sleep so I laid in bed for hours waiting for it to wash over me. It did in small amounts but I woke up at various times and I couldn't help but remember what was going on a year ago.
A year ago June 23 - Around 6.30pm I told Joel I thought I was in labor. By 10pm we were sure of it and we headed over to say goodbye to a dear friend moving to Maryland for his Fellowship for Infectious Diseases. We spent the drive on the phone, calling our families to let them know we were probably going to the hospital the next day. We went to bed late that night but planned to sleep in. The average first delivery takes 14 hours. Knowing my compulsion to do life the hard way, I was expecting 24 hours of labor so sleep was definitely on the to-do list.
A year ago June 24 - Woke up to a phone call at 6.30am from my sister letting me know they were on the Tappan Zee Bridge in New York and would see me soon. 1.30pm with contractions 4 minutes apart lasting 45 seconds, we headed to the hospital. 3pm and barely keeping the tears at bay we headed home from the hospital. My contractions were decreasing in time apart and increasing in duration and pain but nothing else was happening. 3.30-4.30pm I cried. Hard. Mostly because we were close to the 24 hour mark and clearly nowhere close to having our baby. 5.30pm with contractions 2 minutes apart, lasting 45-65seconds long we fed the pets, piled in cars with bags, snacks, books and anything else my family might need in the waiting room and headed to the hospital. Joel and Mom stayed with me the next several hours bringing me icees, heat packs and talking with the nurses to distract me. At 11pm, after getting to hour 29 and knowing I still had a long way to go, I asked for an epidural.
A year ago today, June 25- 12.30am the anesthesiologist finally came to give me an epidural.12.31am I was repeatedly telling the anesthesiologist how thankful I was for him (and I vaguely recall saying something about him being my best friend). For the next few hours I managed to doze in and out between the worst contractions. By 7am there was no more napping to be had but I felt like a new woman in labor and a bit more ready for the long haul. At 8.45am the doctor, nurses and NICU staff were on hand to begin the final stages of labor. I was ready- I could finally do something to meet my baby. At 10.05am a screaming, squiggling little person was placed on my chest. I cried again. Hard, happy tears. There are no words in the world to describe how fast the pain and exhaustion disappears in the flood of 'motherness' that comes over you the moment you hear, see or feel your baby. Moments later Joel announced it was a girl.Still a bit loopy from the epidural, I told him I'd get him a shotgun for her sixteenth birthday and the doctor looked on disapprovingly (wonder how he felt about gun control). The next few hours and days consisted of introducing Charli to our families and a few friends too. As new parents we undervalued the ability to sleep in the hospital, accepting insane numbers of visitors at all kinds of hours and paid for it later. But we made memories and greeted a steep learning curve as best we knew how.
When we brought Charli home, we were greeted with a huge sign out front announcing 'It's A Girl,' excited aunties ready to shower Charli with affection, flower arrangements that had been dropped off and my brother-in-law even got me my own Feta cheese (one of the foods I most missed eating while pregnant). Mom and my youngest sister spent the first few days with us cleaning, running errands and taking Charli between feedings so I could make up for all the sleep I missed at first. Friends and family brought us suppers for the better part of a month and my mother-in-law was on call to do things like dishes and vacuum our carpets and watch Charli while I napped. We were spoiled.
The list of people who have loved us this first year is long and the list of ways they've supported us is even longer. The year has had a zillion changes and trials- some to do with parenthood but many not at all. In the midst of all the craziness we have been afforded the privilege of raising and getting to know a beautiful little girl who has changed us forever. In one year with Charli Grace I have come to know a depth in my own person and most certainly in my God that I would never have known otherwise. I can't image what year 2 will bring us.
Last week she started crawling and now there's no stopping her. Although she's happy to play by herself, I now have to keep a much more keen eye on what she's up to. The other day I saw she was chewing something that obviously wasn't food so I asked "What's in your mouth?" Without missing a beat she pulled out a chewed up bite of the junk mail I'd just set aside, showed it to me between two tiny fingers and then stuck it right back into her mouth for some finer grinding. She can tell by the intonation of my words whether she wants to respond to me or not, whether I'm coming from a positive or negative angle... and so the selective hearing is already beginning.
The close of our first year together feels pretty monumental and I've been a lot more emotional and sentimental these last few days than I expected. (Please don't let the frequency of the word 'mental' in the previous sentence be lost on you) Last night I couldn't sleep so I laid in bed for hours waiting for it to wash over me. It did in small amounts but I woke up at various times and I couldn't help but remember what was going on a year ago.
A year ago June 23 - Around 6.30pm I told Joel I thought I was in labor. By 10pm we were sure of it and we headed over to say goodbye to a dear friend moving to Maryland for his Fellowship for Infectious Diseases. We spent the drive on the phone, calling our families to let them know we were probably going to the hospital the next day. We went to bed late that night but planned to sleep in. The average first delivery takes 14 hours. Knowing my compulsion to do life the hard way, I was expecting 24 hours of labor so sleep was definitely on the to-do list.
A year ago June 24 - Woke up to a phone call at 6.30am from my sister letting me know they were on the Tappan Zee Bridge in New York and would see me soon. 1.30pm with contractions 4 minutes apart lasting 45 seconds, we headed to the hospital. 3pm and barely keeping the tears at bay we headed home from the hospital. My contractions were decreasing in time apart and increasing in duration and pain but nothing else was happening. 3.30-4.30pm I cried. Hard. Mostly because we were close to the 24 hour mark and clearly nowhere close to having our baby. 5.30pm with contractions 2 minutes apart, lasting 45-65seconds long we fed the pets, piled in cars with bags, snacks, books and anything else my family might need in the waiting room and headed to the hospital. Joel and Mom stayed with me the next several hours bringing me icees, heat packs and talking with the nurses to distract me. At 11pm, after getting to hour 29 and knowing I still had a long way to go, I asked for an epidural.
A year ago today, June 25- 12.30am the anesthesiologist finally came to give me an epidural.12.31am I was repeatedly telling the anesthesiologist how thankful I was for him (and I vaguely recall saying something about him being my best friend). For the next few hours I managed to doze in and out between the worst contractions. By 7am there was no more napping to be had but I felt like a new woman in labor and a bit more ready for the long haul. At 8.45am the doctor, nurses and NICU staff were on hand to begin the final stages of labor. I was ready- I could finally do something to meet my baby. At 10.05am a screaming, squiggling little person was placed on my chest. I cried again. Hard, happy tears. There are no words in the world to describe how fast the pain and exhaustion disappears in the flood of 'motherness' that comes over you the moment you hear, see or feel your baby. Moments later Joel announced it was a girl.Still a bit loopy from the epidural, I told him I'd get him a shotgun for her sixteenth birthday and the doctor looked on disapprovingly (wonder how he felt about gun control). The next few hours and days consisted of introducing Charli to our families and a few friends too. As new parents we undervalued the ability to sleep in the hospital, accepting insane numbers of visitors at all kinds of hours and paid for it later. But we made memories and greeted a steep learning curve as best we knew how.
When we brought Charli home, we were greeted with a huge sign out front announcing 'It's A Girl,' excited aunties ready to shower Charli with affection, flower arrangements that had been dropped off and my brother-in-law even got me my own Feta cheese (one of the foods I most missed eating while pregnant). Mom and my youngest sister spent the first few days with us cleaning, running errands and taking Charli between feedings so I could make up for all the sleep I missed at first. Friends and family brought us suppers for the better part of a month and my mother-in-law was on call to do things like dishes and vacuum our carpets and watch Charli while I napped. We were spoiled.
The list of people who have loved us this first year is long and the list of ways they've supported us is even longer. The year has had a zillion changes and trials- some to do with parenthood but many not at all. In the midst of all the craziness we have been afforded the privilege of raising and getting to know a beautiful little girl who has changed us forever. In one year with Charli Grace I have come to know a depth in my own person and most certainly in my God that I would never have known otherwise. I can't image what year 2 will bring us.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Guts But No Glory
Joel's car is in the shop. We remembered this five minutes before he had to head to work today. Any other day I would toss him the keys to Betsy, my large-and-in-charge old man car. However, today was the day I was hoping to finally see a doctor about my poison ivy that set up shop nine weeks ago (yes, NINE WEEKS!) and is still progressing. Don't get me wrong, I have seen a doctor. In fact, two different doctors have given me two different prescriptions which have both done less than whatever concoctions I come up with at home and while I've bought CVS' entire stock of over-the-counter treatments and persisted in trying them for the last seven weeks, they're inefficacious against this monster. After calling every dermatologists near me yesterday and finding out that the fastest any one of them could see me was October (wow, did I pick the wrong career!), I was hoping that my good old GP could do something about this. Needless to say, waiving all rights to Betsy today was not an option. Two minutes later I was dressed and we were packing up the car.
After the mad dash of loading up Charli, her breakfast and any diaper bag details Murphy would decide we need if we tried to chance it and fighting traffic to and from Joel's work, I arrived home ready to start my day. The babe was fed, I was dressed, my husband was at work, it was only 8.15am and I had energy to spare. I felt a bit like superwoman.
Right after I got Charli dressed for the day, my cat, ChelseaFootballClub, decided that his morning diet wasn't sitting right with him. Not to get graphic, but I'm pretty sure the reason he had indigestion was because he ate five times the amount his stomach could digest. I had visions of trying to keep the cat and Charli away from me while cleaning up toxic waste without a hazmat suit. Not going to work. So I tossed the cat outside and got Charli set up with some blueberries in her high chair before arming myself with all kinds of tools and chemicals. The clean up with far less traumatic than I anticipated and I realized I had time to get all the trash inside the house out to the large can before the collectors came this morning. I was beginning to feel a bit like superwoman again until I stepped out the door armed with full trash bags... onto the remaining guts of the mouse that had gotten revenge on Chelsea shortly before. Did I mention it's Spring so I am always barefoot? This was followed by the first explosive diaper we've ever had. Really, how could this morning get started any better?
I was tempted to fall apart, crawl back in bed and call the day quits. And while anyone who knows me, knows how very uncomfortable guts and body functions make me (I know you wouldn't this so with the length of this post but it really is true), I had a moment where I realized my thinking was all wrong. Motherhood is not about being or feeling like superwoman. It's not about having a good morning or getting more done in a day than you expected. It's not really about getting glory and in fact, it's not about me at all. Motherhood isn't measured in how pleasant you are after a full night's sleep, or how often your baby girl claps at the funny songs you sing for her. It's about doing the very best you can with whatever comes your way for the people that you love and are responsible for. This morning, all the things that came my way were things that make me squirm. But the toxic waste is gone, the carpet cleaned, my baby's napping with a clean bottom and I even managed to get a doctor appointment for later this morning. Hopefully she'll be able to help get rid of one squirmy thing. But even if she can't, life feels a little super.
After the mad dash of loading up Charli, her breakfast and any diaper bag details Murphy would decide we need if we tried to chance it and fighting traffic to and from Joel's work, I arrived home ready to start my day. The babe was fed, I was dressed, my husband was at work, it was only 8.15am and I had energy to spare. I felt a bit like superwoman.
Right after I got Charli dressed for the day, my cat, ChelseaFootballClub, decided that his morning diet wasn't sitting right with him. Not to get graphic, but I'm pretty sure the reason he had indigestion was because he ate five times the amount his stomach could digest. I had visions of trying to keep the cat and Charli away from me while cleaning up toxic waste without a hazmat suit. Not going to work. So I tossed the cat outside and got Charli set up with some blueberries in her high chair before arming myself with all kinds of tools and chemicals. The clean up with far less traumatic than I anticipated and I realized I had time to get all the trash inside the house out to the large can before the collectors came this morning. I was beginning to feel a bit like superwoman again until I stepped out the door armed with full trash bags... onto the remaining guts of the mouse that had gotten revenge on Chelsea shortly before. Did I mention it's Spring so I am always barefoot? This was followed by the first explosive diaper we've ever had. Really, how could this morning get started any better?
I was tempted to fall apart, crawl back in bed and call the day quits. And while anyone who knows me, knows how very uncomfortable guts and body functions make me (I know you wouldn't this so with the length of this post but it really is true), I had a moment where I realized my thinking was all wrong. Motherhood is not about being or feeling like superwoman. It's not about having a good morning or getting more done in a day than you expected. It's not really about getting glory and in fact, it's not about me at all. Motherhood isn't measured in how pleasant you are after a full night's sleep, or how often your baby girl claps at the funny songs you sing for her. It's about doing the very best you can with whatever comes your way for the people that you love and are responsible for. This morning, all the things that came my way were things that make me squirm. But the toxic waste is gone, the carpet cleaned, my baby's napping with a clean bottom and I even managed to get a doctor appointment for later this morning. Hopefully she'll be able to help get rid of one squirmy thing. But even if she can't, life feels a little super.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The People That Built Me
Miranda Lambert has a song, 'The House That Built Me.' It's a song asking if she could go into her childhood home for a visit, just to be surrounded by the walls and stand on the floors of the place that represents so much of who she is today. For many people it resonates because their lives have been spent making memories in primarily one home. I, on the other hand, moved quite a lot as a child. It was often in the same areas, but I grew up in many houses and many neighborhoods in two different continents.
For me there was no house to hold my memories as a keepsake. It was people who built me; the ones who were with me despite the moves, the ones who have walked with me from childhood until now that have spoken deeply into my heart and mind... those Family members, mentors and friends are the keepers of the memories of who I am and what makes me 'me' and I'm thinking of them especially tonight.
It's been a warm, rainy day here and it feels exactly like Christmas in Zimbabwe (my home land). I've been singing Christmas songs to Charli all day because of it and keep reminding myself I'm seven months off on the timing. Despite the scheduled nature of this area, I keep expecting someone to pop in for tea or the timer to go off signaling that the cut-out and spritz cookies are ready.
Tonight I sat down at my piano and found myself singing song after song that flooded me with memories. They're not memories I rehash often, they're the kind that sit deep in my subconscious until I sing those songs on a day like this and I'm taken back to time when I was younger and those songs were playing at school dances, on the CD I just got, or on the soundtrack to a movie I watched so many times I can still recite whole scenes... and I missed the people the built me something fierce. With it came a desperate desire for those people to know Charli.
Like everyone else, much of who I am is based on my experiences. However, my life has had many unique details in it that are shared experience to only a few others who grew up with me in these same situations. These few others understand a part of me that doesn't show very much now as an adult but it's still very much there and it drives me. It's the things about me that make up my core. Maybe if they can get to know Charli, if she can get to know them, she'll get to understand me in a way that I fear she may never know otherwise. Maybe if she met the people who built me, it'd be a bit like taking her to my hometown. There's something about going to someone's home that explains so much of who they are. I want her to understand those things about me because it will explain many things about her.
In the busyness of life, the juggling of schedules, meeting constant demands, taking opportunities to continue learning and building new friendships, I hope we can carve out enough moments for her to visit all those who make up my home.
For me there was no house to hold my memories as a keepsake. It was people who built me; the ones who were with me despite the moves, the ones who have walked with me from childhood until now that have spoken deeply into my heart and mind... those Family members, mentors and friends are the keepers of the memories of who I am and what makes me 'me' and I'm thinking of them especially tonight.
It's been a warm, rainy day here and it feels exactly like Christmas in Zimbabwe (my home land). I've been singing Christmas songs to Charli all day because of it and keep reminding myself I'm seven months off on the timing. Despite the scheduled nature of this area, I keep expecting someone to pop in for tea or the timer to go off signaling that the cut-out and spritz cookies are ready.
Tonight I sat down at my piano and found myself singing song after song that flooded me with memories. They're not memories I rehash often, they're the kind that sit deep in my subconscious until I sing those songs on a day like this and I'm taken back to time when I was younger and those songs were playing at school dances, on the CD I just got, or on the soundtrack to a movie I watched so many times I can still recite whole scenes... and I missed the people the built me something fierce. With it came a desperate desire for those people to know Charli.
Like everyone else, much of who I am is based on my experiences. However, my life has had many unique details in it that are shared experience to only a few others who grew up with me in these same situations. These few others understand a part of me that doesn't show very much now as an adult but it's still very much there and it drives me. It's the things about me that make up my core. Maybe if they can get to know Charli, if she can get to know them, she'll get to understand me in a way that I fear she may never know otherwise. Maybe if she met the people who built me, it'd be a bit like taking her to my hometown. There's something about going to someone's home that explains so much of who they are. I want her to understand those things about me because it will explain many things about her.
In the busyness of life, the juggling of schedules, meeting constant demands, taking opportunities to continue learning and building new friendships, I hope we can carve out enough moments for her to visit all those who make up my home.
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