"ignore the story. see the soul. remember to love. you will never regret it" --- Seane Corn

"ignore the story. see the soul. remember to love. you will never regret it" --- Seane Corn
it's a jungle out there

Sunday, January 31, 2010

J's words

"... and i just feel like we're all trying to find a nice comfy place to cope. someplace not too scary and not too safe." Those were J's words in an email to me this evening...


And a fucking light bulb goes off in my brain. OK. Maybe not a light bulb. Maybe something more like a night light.


I've tried to post for days. I've written and written and nothing's quite right. I haven't even been able to corral my confusion well enough to define it with words.


It's not quite depression. Not quite overwhelm. Could almost just be the January Blues. With a nice dose of anxiety. But it's not.

It's motherhood.


Damn this shit is heavy. The worry and fear about our children. And then it becomes worry and fear for ALL children. So I worry about Mia, and I worry about the children in Haiti. And then I worry about the children right here on my block. And I feel for the patients(moms) at work. And I think they KNOW that I feel for them because I listen and I'm always sweet with their babies. We're all just moms trying to keep our babies from harm and heartache.

It doesn't matter if it's bullying or bipolar. It doesn't matter if it's the awareness of an extraordinary gift and wanting a child to SOAR. It doesn't matter if it's congenital or acquired. Treatable or terminal. Or just the heartache and angst of puberty. It doesn't matter if it's an accident or act of god. As mothers, we all have these moments hours days weeks lifetimes of fear sadness pain rage when it's time to protect our cubs.

I remember a friend who would feed her toddlers M&Ms and fluffernutter sandwiches. Appalling. And she would say I just want them to be happy. And I thought it was ridiculous to equate candy and marshmallows with happiness. Nevermind the whole nutrition/cavities thing. This friend had grown up with a schizophrenic father and a financially unstable family. As a result, she was determined to make a lot of money. She never wanted to live in financial fear again, nor did she want her children to ever have to worry about money. She became a lawyer and married a lawyer and they made a shitload. They had 3 kids. They were financially secure. They were happy. And she still fed them M&Ms. Like all the time. Just to see them smile. Cause the memory of her own childhood sadness was so close to the surface that she just couldn't bear the thought of her own children being sad too.

I thought of her the other day as I was desperately trying to make a successful Mia & Mommy day. M&M. I looked at Mia and thought I just want her to be happy. And so much of the time all I see is sadness in her eyes. I keep searching her face for a glimpse of innocent carefree child-happiness.

It's seldom there.

She has nightmares.

She's in our bed most nights, and we can't say no to her. I can't. Bruce won't. She shakes with fear. She won't tell us her dreams cause they're too scary and if she says them out loud they'll be real.
So I just want to hold her all night so she might feel safe. And not afraid.

It's so hard to figure out what the right thing to do is. I know you all know what I'm talking about. I know it will all turn out ok. I know that we have the love and resources to make it through. We've done it before, and we'll do it again.

We all will

But still. We mothers can't help but think what if i fuck this up what if i make the wrong choice say the wrong thing irreparably damage my baby overlook something choose the wrong doctor teacher therapist school district medication. What if I choose the wrong words. What if I'm not there at the right time. What if I'm not doing enough for these children and those children.

What if.

So J's words keep ringing in my confused brain. we're all trying to find a nice comfy place to cope. someplace not too scary and not too safe.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

What a week

Oh, where to begin?

maybe with the 127 spaghetti pots full of puke I've flushed down the toilet since Friday night...

or the 36 rolls of toilet paper we've gone through in the past 5 days...

or the Supreme Court's supremely fucked up decision...

or Howard Zinn's death he was a great man and lived a long life...

or Amy Goodman's interview with Michael Moore that I tried to embed but couldn't...
it's 42 minutes long, so you probably wouldn't have watched it anyway, but if your so inclined go here.

just published and saw that I did embed... will wonders never cease?

if you do go, check out her footage from Haiti just in case you're having too good a day

Or I could be positive, and begin with my success in rigging a wireless router and now the house is WIRELESS. Which is an enormous accomplishment for me, since as previously noted, I still can't figure out how to embed a video. The boys are shocked and amazed at their mom's mad skills. They now forgive me for doing away with cable. They blamed loss of cable for the world's ills the way I blame high fructose corn syrup for the demise of American life and the planet in general.

Bruce: we can get fish at Hannaford's
I make a face cause all I can picture are the little cards that say things like wild caught in Thailand or locally farmed and corn fed salmon not beef thank you very much
Bruce: well, where are we gonna buy fish?
Mia: we don't have cable so we can't buy fish.

Me: wadaya mean you hate the cello?
Ty: I hate it... I don't wanna do it anymore... it's boring!
Jack: Mom, I think he just wants a day to himself. It's like monday thru friday he has sucky school and then cello all morning on saturdays and his lesson on sundays and I think he just wants a day to relax. And you took away our cable so now it's only like old guys talking about politics and we know how much Ty cares about Obama's health care plan...

Seriously???
I got rid of cable and now we can't buy fish for dinner and Ty hates his cello...
hmmm
But now wireless rocks our house and they can get internet on the Wii and they can watch Netflix on the tv and they're happy campers once again.

And with all my electronic rearranging we're saving a couple hundred dollars a month. How fucked up is that? And we're commercial free. It's actually much quieter here without cable. And instead of annoying ads I'm much more likely to hear Ty practicing The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy. He really does love his cello. He just pitched that fit cause he was coming down with the stomach flu

Right. That's where this all started. It hit Mia like a mack truck Friday night. She heaved and yakked at least twice an hour until morning. No mess. No fuss. We had it down like Balanchine and Tchaikovsky. She would poke me. I'd wake up and grab the spaghetti pot. She'd heave and heave. Then I'd wipe her mouth and hand her some water and she'd rinse and spit. Then we'd both fall back to sleep until the next bout. She didn't cry. She didn't complain. She sucked it up. And when she was ready to eat 2 days later she ate canned pineapple. And exploded in awe and swore it was the most amazing pineapple she had ever had. Ever, mommy!

The boys men. Not so much. It hit all three of them Sunday night. I slept half the night on the bathroom floor with Jack. He's my vomiter. At one point Bruce charged the bathroom but couldn't get in cause our heads were pushed up against the door. He ran downstairs to find Ty in that bathroom and ran back up and hurdled not hurled thank god over us to get to the toilet just in time. Charming. And the moans and groans. Oh Lord. I'm sure there was a lot of excruciating pain involved. I just find it interesting that Mia didn't moan or complain once. She just sucked it up. Like we do.

Lucky for me I didn't get it. I have the immune system of a cockroach.
But I did get my period on Tuesday. Right on schedule.
The universe is abundant.


Thursday, January 21, 2010

Not Happy

I'M HAVING A BAD DAY week

sorry

My hormones are raging and when that happens one little blue pill is not enough to keep the PMDD beast locked away in the basement

Flooby Nooby Cristin, who is without a doubt one of THE FUNNIEST bloggers around, gave me a Happy 101 award. She said my posts make her happy. Which is a damn good thing cause I'm not feeling the happiness these days. But it's good to be reminded that sometimes I can bring a smile.

Just not this week.

My Ovaries, My Ovaries, why have you forsaken me?

Honestly.

I've been trying to collect my award with grace and appropriate modesty. Because that's what it deserves. But I just can't get it together. I can't turn my frown upside down. I can't shake this feeling.
Just have to wait for it to pass...

This morning Mia was on the verge of one of her meltdowns. Had something to do with wanting to paint her nails black instead of getting dressed and eating breakfast. And absolutely NOTHING in the 6 dresser drawers and 2 baskets of clean laundry was acceptable. She tried on 3 pairs of jeans before one felt OK.
She's got issues. She's difficult

And it takes all my energy to hold it together and speak in a calm voice and not snap at her. Cause if I hold it together, she can hold it together. I see her trying so hard to not LOOSE HER SHIT when she feels like NOTHING IS RIGHT. And then it passes. And I walk her to school and stay calm and she's able to kiss me goodbye and walk into the building.

Which is quite an improvement from the way it was a few months ago. Several mornings a week she would be clinging and sobbing and crushing me with her Mia Death Grip. And the aides would have to peel her off me and take her to class.

THAT sucked the big one.

Then, as Bruce was running out the door, he says and why do they think they can leave all their stuff lying around like this? why don't they ever pick up their shit

What he's really saying is Chica, you shouldn't have to do all this

But what I hear is you haven't done a very good job teaching them to be responsible and respectful and neat and tidy

fucking ovaries
fucking serotonin

I kept my mouth shut thankfully but oooh the shit that was going through my head and beating on the back of my teeth screaming let us out!

I have really strong teeth
the universe is abundant

Bruce calls me later. Chica, next week when I'm off, I want you to just stay in bed and I'll get the kids off to school. I can always go back to sleep if I need to.

He's a good guy.

But I'm still aggravated. Still waiting for this mood to pass. It's giving me a headache. I ate 3 fortune cookies, a cup of coffee, and half a xanax for lunch but I still feel like my head's gonna explode can't imagine why.
Dammit those fortunes just sucked.

And where's the rest of my sidebar? What the fuck is up with Blogger?

the bathrooms are dirty
the bedrooms are dirty
we have guests coming for the weekend
Haiti is... Haiti is...
shoot me

I am so not happy today

Next Tuesday the clouds will lift

fucking ovaries

And thank you Em, Emmy Carroll, Cat, May, and Steph for your sweet chocolate covered indulgences.
That made me happy.



Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Indulgences

A morning quickie...

usually not my cup of tea but I've got a gazillion things to do and there's shit preoccupying my brain.

there's a new blogger in town...

from my mama-heart to yours... indulge me

thanks


addendum: OK LADIES... the new blogger...
SHE'S MY 7 YEAR OLD!
I thought it was obvious. Guess not.
silly wabbits



Friday, January 15, 2010

the more i see the less i know

So this makes me a little happier

A little less heavy.

Brings a smile

enjoy

Thursday, January 14, 2010

I have no words

I'm trying to find the words.
It's hard today.

Liz gave me an award. She's so sweet.
It's a when life gives you lemons award
She makes good lemonade.
She says I make good lemonade too.

I try.

But today, it's hard

There's always more lemonade to be made, but I'm feeling right now like I'm not making enough.
Haiti needs help making lemonade goddammit and I feel like I don't have enough fucking water and sugar for all the lemons life has given them.

Sorry.

I'm trying to keep Ms. Moon's words in mind. She always has such good words...

The lemonade button is now in my sidebar, to remind me to keep squeezing and stirring and adding water and sugar.

Speaking of water... check out that water button. It's a good one. Every penny donated goes straight to digging wells. No parties, no limos, no bullshit.
All that is paid for by other means.

Back to lemonade...
It's not so easy to make lemonade. First the juice squirts in your eyes and makes you cry. Then you have to swallow the sourness. It gives you a belly ache. Sometimes you bite down on those bitter seeds. And you might overcompensate with too much goddamn sugar and then your teeth just fucking ache.

And then you add clean, clear, cleansing water.

Eventually, if you keep trying, maybe you can balance the sour with the sweet. And if you're really lucky, you have friends who will taste-test and give guidance.

There are some bloggers out there
who make great lemonade
and inspire me to do the same.





Never fear, this is a no pressure award.
If you feel like passing it on, do so.
I pass it on as an acknowledgment of your profound honesty and hard work and optimism.
I pass it on as a thank-you


Ms. Moon
Kori
Elizabeth
Nancy C
jody r landers
Allegra Smith
Hallie
Laura
Cristin
Alicia
Cat
Margo
Windy
Sarcastic Bastard
Shannon


Big puffy heart to you all

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Reality check

OK. So I've been really pookie lately. Don't know why. Maybe cause I've worked 4 out of the last 5 days. Maybe cause I spent my one day off driving all over the countryside buying stupid shit like a new stove. I hate buying shit. Maybe it's hormones. Maybe my shoes are too tight. But my heart's feeling two sizes too small.

My poor husband has had to listen to my venomous rants about Mia's lame therapist who is nice enough but kinda clueless. We've had 6 sessions and she still calls Mia "Mya". She's also lectured me on why I should give my kids the H1N1 vaccine, and how I should feed them. anyone reading this who knows me in person is quaking in their shoes and hiding under their beds right now. This therapist knows WHO I AM oz the great and terrible and WHAT I DO. But I think she looks at me in my hoodie and sweats and no make-up it's my day off goddamit and only sees some young appearing black girl. Seriously. So when I don't respond to her condescending chides, the light bulb goes off and she back pedals and apologizes well of course you know all this...

of course. aargh

Then today, as I'm sitting in the dentist chair, armed with half a xanax and ready for ROOT CANAL, the dentist's office manager comes flying into the room and cries STOP!!

Apparently root canal is not a covered by my insurance. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME !?!?
It better be 'cause I increased my coverage, effective Jan 1, to cover Mia's braces. The issue is that the idiot little HR bitch who's responsible for arranging all our coverage is more concerned with her PR responsibilities and photo ops than employee health and dental coverage. Which by the way, we pay for thank you very much. She has SCREWED dozens of employees over the past few years by messing up their benefits. This year, I guess, folks got wise and started sending her confirmation emails to make sure she was aware of their insurance needs. Yes, I was one jen did you get my dental form? No response. She did sent an office wide email saying that she was just too busy to respond to each and every confirmation request.

Read between the lines, bitch.

So I guess confirmation comes when you're getting bills for surgery cause your policy lapsed, or when you're sitting in the dental chair. As I was at 9 a.m.

Why is HR twit still in that position?
Good question.
I have no idea.

Lucky for me, the novocaine was poised midair when my morning plans came to a screeching halt. Allowing me to come home and have full control over my expressive language abilities when I called the office and ummm explained via speaker phone to both the HR twit and her boss what was going on. silence... oh... we're soooo sorry michelle, the insurance companies are always behind in January. blah blah blah. My guess is I'll get a call later today that somehow the insurance company didn't get my request to bump up my coverage.

really???

Poor Bruce was trying to escape the house when I returned from the dentist with my head exploding. He suffered my rant as you are now and said Chica, you really didn't need this aggravation today, did you?... I knew not to come near you last night...
...keep your hands away from the cage...
my hubby's so funny ha fuckin ha

I've been positively growling the last few days, as I said.


OK. So root canal is cancelled and I need to salvage my day. I call my sister and rant cause somehow it's still not out of my system. Then she tells me about 2 good friends whose families are in Haiti. Haiti??? I've been working and unplugged. Didn't even have the radio on coming home from work last night.

Haiti.

aye aye aye. Not that I feel guilty or like a total asshole for freaking out over the annoyances of dental coverage, the need to buy a new stove, or the ability to take my 7 year old for therapy.
This shit still pisses me off.

But damn. The place is devastated. I'm glad for the quick response from Obama, cause administrations usually drag their feet on this shit whether it occurs here or abroad. Maybe he thinks we owe them one since we were behind the coup that removed Jean-Bertrand Aristide from power a few years ago...

So all through the special reports they're announcing numbers for aid. Money. Water. Camping equiptment. Tents. Medical supplies. I'm always tugged by the call for medical professionals to go help when these events occur. Always. It's easy to come up with a dozen reasons why I couldn't possibly go. But still... I wonder if I had no kids and no real reason to stay safe and sound in the Hudson Valley, if I'd have the balls to get on a plane and jump in with both feet.

I'd like to think that I would. I'd like to think that I will. Someday

Haiti erased my edge. Haiti gave me a reality check.
I feel better now.

Sort of.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Sundays In My City


Unknown Mami

it's sunny in San Francisco


I bet most of us need a little
sunshine on our shoulders today

it's just too damn cold and snowy

I'm already longing for spring


this is what Sundays look like in my backyard
in June and July









the seed catalogues are starting to arrive
I can feel the sun on my shoulders
and the dirt in my hands

the days are getting longer

Friday, January 8, 2010

Friday Fragments

Friday Fragments


courtesy of Mrs 4444


Seems like every year, something big goes ker-plooey right around the holidays. Last year, the catalytic converter on the van konked our December 19. The year before, the refrigerator died just before New Year's. A few days ago, the oven knob fell off. Which doesn't seem like such a big deal unless IT STOPS YOU FROM TURNING DOWN THE FLAME AND CUTTING OFF THE GAS.
Off to Sears...


My legs feel like the cured sausages I've been feasting on for the past two weeks. Fat and busting out of their casings. And I'm all clogged up. TMI. And my pits smell. Seriously. It seems like I'm stinky all the time. I can only assume it's from a diet that has consisted of primarily salty meat, cheese, half 'n half, and coffee. I can't remember the last time I ate a green vegetable. shame on me. Today I'm craving canned pineapple. eewww. Maybe I'll do a pineapple cleanse to flush out the toxins and get things moving along.
Do you think it will work?


It's a balmy 34 degrees here. woo hoo


During Jack's Tae Kwon Do class, the crazy instructor announced "who knows what the 1st Amendment is?"
I have no idea what that has to do with tae kwon do. One kid raised his hand. His answer began with "Thou shalt not..." It was very funny.
BTW- it's freedom of speech


I told Bruce I only wanted him back for his laptop. He told me he only wanted me back for my lapdance. hee hee. Good thing I don't need my ovaries anymore since I sit in bed with the laptop on them every night. I can feel the heat from the damn thing through the bedcovers and all I can think is sheesh, my old eggs are getting irradiated as I blog away.



Short and sweet this week.

Have a good weekend.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Landslide

I love this song. Go listen Warner Bros. won't let me embed, but it's worth it. Check out the looks that pass between them round about 3:22...oh they still love each other

This song was playing when Mia was born. She was a
c-section, as were Jack and Ty. But she was my last. And I knew it. And as they took her out, this song came on in the O.R. I sang under my breath, and Bruce held my hand, and I started to cry. And cry. And I couldn't stop. Bruce stroked my forehead and said oh chica cause he knew. My midwife, whom I love, looked at me and smiled. After 5 pregnancies and 3 babies, she was used to my water works. She looked into my eyes and I looked into hers, and then she knew why I was sobbing. She patted my shoulder as I lay on the table and couldn't look at me again. She loved helping us have babies. I loved having babies. Every minute of it. I loved the nausea and stuffy nose and bleeding gums. I loved peeing 16 times a night. I loved the inevitable sex dreams during the 5th month. I loved ultrasounds and glucose tolerance tests. I even loved having my membranes stripped and drinking castor oil to induce labor neither worked. I loved being in the hospital. I loved being awake all night holding my newborn and feeling so energized I thought I'd never sleep again that didn't last long. I loved it all. For the seven years I was pregnant and breastfeeding, I was HAPPY. No little blue pill necessary.

She knew I sobbed because I knew Mia was my last. And she knew it too. I was mourning.

****

We climbed a big fucking mountain this year. I never entertained the thought of not reaching the top cause sitting down and dying of frostbite was not an option. But my babies... I feared they might not make it. But they did. Their bodies and hearts were so much stronger than I thought. But there was wear and tear, and my babies are tired. can the child who IS my heart rise above? My babies are amazing and strong and resilient. But I'm their mama, and as you mamas know, we would do ANYTHING to carry our babies safe and sound to the top of the mountain and not let them get buried in the landslide.

Today, as I worry about my babies making it through, I think of all the mamas whose babies are making it through. This mama, and this mama, and this mama and this one. And so many others. And of course, J.

Thank you, you strong mamas who write about your fears and your babies and their triumphs.
You've helped me climb to the top.







Saturday, January 2, 2010

Contradictions: Evolution vs Reincarnation


Right. So it's all about the woolly mammoth. My favorite saying cause sometimes that just explains it all. It explains why we do the things we do, why we are afflicted in the ways we are afflicted. It lets us off the hook cause we're ONLY human dammit.

It explains away everything. Cause it's all about survival of the most fit.

Why do babies develop object permanence and start crawling at about the same time? Cause if you're 9 months old, and crawling out of the cave, away from your cave mama, you'd damn well better know that she's back there some where before the woolly mammoth comes and gets you...

And when you're REALLY hungry, why do you throw all the most fat, most sweet things into your grocery cart? Cause slain woolly mammoth are few and far between, and your body needs fat and sugar to store for the long haul. It explains why the homeless man in Grand Central chooses Sweet and Sour Pork rather than Buddhist Delight with Tofu. Cause who the fuck knows when he's gonna get to eat again.
The woolly mammoth whispers or screams
fat sugar fat sugar

And why do we want our kids to be the best and the brightest? And why do we get in such a tizzy when maybe they're not? Because being the best and brightest means SURVIVAL. If you're the best at slaying woolly mammoth, you will survive. You'll get the best girl, have the best offspring, and you're DNA will persist. And if your kid is at the top of the class, or the best athlete, or gets into an Ivy League school, or is the best cellist, well, then your kid will have the best chance of success. And success equals survival.

So I've been writing a woolly mammoth post in my head for a few days. Sister Halona commented that I apply the woolly mammoth to EVERYTHING. Then she proceeded to ask me about Vitamin D supplements for her toddler and that dang woolly mammoth raised its ivory tusks and I was off and running again...

But somehow, this week, the woolly mammoth isn't explaining it all. Must be the dark days. I want answers beyond the woolly mammoth cause damn those beasts live in the ice and snow, and I prefer toasty warmth thank you very much. Seems like every year at this time, I start searching for answers. I'm drawn to more spiritual writings. I look for evidence of hope and perseverance and renewal.

Reincarnation

Maybe it's an inherent preparation for spring.
Maybe it explains this ridiculous wallpaper I've plastered on my blog walls.

Sister Adrienne hit it on the head, and unlocked a door to my understanding. 1+1=2

A long, long time ago, I had a "reading". I sat in an Upper East Side living room, and a perfectly average appearing lady with an angel's voice told me about myself. The only thing I told her was my name.

It was astounding.

There is no explanation other than she was authentic. Period.

She taped the session for me, and 16 years later, I still listen to it when I'm stuck and looking for answers. Right off the bat she knew things about me. I can't really say she made predictions, but over the years things she said that didn't seem so important back then have taken on huge significance.

She said that love activates the healing process in diseased cells.
She said it's actually the belief in the ability to heal that allows healing to happen.

Why did she start with THAT?
I was in nursing school. She only knew my name.

She said she saw that frequently, as a child, I was scared to sleep. That I was aware of something in my room. That it was spirit with me, and it scared me.

holy shit how did she know that?

She said that soon I would become much more aware of spirit, and aware of those who had made the transition, and I would understand more and not be so afraid.

A year later I was working in a home for sick and dying kids.
And I began to understand things that couldn't really be explained. And I was not afraid.
And I saw love healing disease.

She said it was very hard for me to be on the earth plane
no shit sherlock

She said I carried the knowledge from many past lives sorry to get so shirley maclaine on you so when I seemed to contradict myself or have certain ideas one day and then very different ideas the next to give myself a break. When I felt conflicted I should just sleep on it and the part of self which needed to come forward, would.

Sounds a little dissociative, huh? You can call me Sybil

So when Sister Adrienne commented on my new look, it was like BAM flash of light.

walmart and farmer's markets
the Luddite with a Blackberry
the shy antisocial girl who lives in the house that sticks out like a sore easter thumb

The Many Faces of Michelle.

That's why I was having such a hard time writing about the woolly mammoth. Cause in these dark days, the woolly mammoth's not enough. It doesn't feel right for it all to be explained by evolution and Darwin and DNA.

I need some hope. I need some light. I need to believe there's something beyond what can be seen or explained.

Contradiction was a recurring theme in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Ms. Rand noted that contradictions do not exist. If something appears to be a contradiction, it just means your premise is incorrect.

So when I'm stuck between the woolly mammoth and miracles I tell myself I'm working off the wrong premise.

Now I just have to come up with the right one...




Your fairy is called Columbine Icedancer
She is a bone chilling bringer of justice for the vulnerable.
She lives in mushroom fields and quiet meadows.
She is only seen when the bees swarm and the crickets chirrup.
She wears lilac and purple like columbine flowers. She has icy blue butterfly wings.