Well not Jesus exactly — but his representative. After years of working in the public sector as a financial analyst, non profit type, I now realize that despite the hype nonprofits are no more family friendly than your average corporation. In many cases, they are less likely to pay well, offer health insurance, or sufficient personal time off to deal with the daily goings-on of child-rearing.My current boss regularly argues that homeless people are all bums, Democrats are socialists and people who are poor just don’t work as hard as he does. Yet he is the best boss I’ve ever had…
I’m braving the world of cardboard, patience, and sugar-infused gratitude and have agreed (in a mumbly way) to make my adorable twin daughters Halloween costumes this year –because they are unfortunately of an age where I can’t just whip out last year’s Costco specials and convince them it’s all new again. Little buggers are getting smarter every day … while I appear to be losing braincells and beauty faster than a varnish-eating reptile.
Since all the costumes I can (theoretically) put together revolve around cardboard boxes, glue, and sharp kid-dangerous cutters, our options are somewhat limited to square things. To wit: robot, candy machine girl, square pumpkin, rabbit (also square). Won’t this be a delight?
I could drive over the Costco and spend $60 on 2 ladybugs and call it good, but this year I want something more. I want them to experience the fun and goofy frivolity associated with failed home craft projects. It’s in their genes, they might as well get used to it.
Besides, the glorious forgiveness and imagination of our children is absolutely the best reason to procreate in the first place… Stay tuned…
There many outlets for people to use as safe confessional spaces on-line: Her Bad Mother’s Basement, True Mom (and Dad, and Bride, and Office) Confessions, Real Mom Truths and others.Leaving aside all the good reasons to hedge about the whole truth and nothing but (respecting privacy, avoiding causing pain to loved ones, acquaintances who might read etc. etc. etc.), confessing provides the balm that many of us require to lighten our existential load.
MammaLoves and I are hatching an idea about offering an alternative confessional space for you and for us…. whether funny or shameful or bedroom or office, or nursemaid or park ranger…. A place to adopt a persona, or claim another… to express the unexpressed.
The universal desire to be known, seen, understood, is one deeply held, sometimes unknowingly by each of us… And when your blog is no longer a place for you to explore those things, when your friends are far far away… there is often no rest for your sinning head, buzzing brain, and beating heart… no place to share your poetry, your works in progress, your naughty pictures…
And so we’re going to endeavor to help all of us refuse the dying of the light. Refuse “…the stiff procession to the grave, letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.” (Anne Sexton)…
My subconscious dream state self is turning into the dirty Doppelganger of PunditMom… Last night I “got to know” a gentleman at a fund raising party who proudly announced to me (after our “introduction”) that he was a Republican….
What I said back to him? “Well, you f*ck like a Democrat”…..
Last night I dreamed of Moobz… and President Clinton… and getting stuck in a high priced organic grocery store… And I’ll tell you, I’ll take Moobz in a wet t-shirt over an overpriced broccoli floret any day.. which reminds me of that Mike Myers skit (Dieter) about “Germany’s Most Disturbing Home Videos”… featuring an older gentleman skipping around a sprinkler in a diaper. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
What we have here, other than the obvious losing of the marbles in dreamland, is some seriously crib-deprived toddlers raising some ruckus and some hiding out mamas in rooms filled with more Nag Champa than patience. But today I’m more grateful than yesterday and I laughed at the shared stories about The Trouble with Relationships in Recovery… or TTRR… and I’ve made a little space.. a clubhouse to hide away in here in my Not So Small house… Today is my 11th day with no wine… Even with two slips, I still consider that it’s been nearly 6 weeks of a new life without alcohol.
Did you know there’s such a thing as a crib tent? It’s a “safety device” and it keeps little toddlers right where they should be kept — in a CRIB until they’re a teenager!!
Carol Gotbaum’s story is a tragic one… She was mother to three children under 7 who suffered from severe depression and alcoholism… While on her way to a residential treatment center in Arizona, she died while in airport police custody.
However, I think what was lacking was an understanding of her desperation… a desperation some of us feel occasionally (to a greater or lesser degree)… which culminated in her untimely death..
Personal change (revolution really) often gets foiled by this feeling of despair that I’ll never get where I’m going.. I’ll never feel rested enough, peaceful enough.. never anything enough. How could I get there from here? But then, something simple happens:
I tell the children that Mommy needs her alone time during shower and I lock my door. I. Lock. My. Door.
–thereby granting myself this simple gift — a peaceful time for personal ablutions and reflection usually overrun with breaking up fights, answering questions, and administering begged for lipstick swaths on sweet ruby lips.
What if they’re right that it all boils down to these small moments — these very small but crucial gifts to ourselves. Showers, reading time, walks (alone) to the mailbox.. help with preparing dinner. Wouldn’t that be miraculous?
What if peace and serenity didn’t require 5 days of silent meditation, ashtanga yoga practice, and vegan diets, or vows to never lose one’s temper? What if perfection (or near-perfection) wasn’t even an approximation of what was required?
What if we all vowed to do THREE SMALL THINGS for ourselves, out of love (not guilt, or resentment, or anger or exhaustion, OR oblivion) every single day. Would you could you for yourself?
The evening’s dread approach no longer finds solace in thoughts of you… your chill clean sweet release.. your thoughtless escape from all the hurry-scurry. You’re no longer a friend, a secret buoy, a kind invisible force to bring peace. You’ve not taken everything from me yet, but I know you will. If I follow you where you want me to go — to a land of more and more and more…. to a place where just one is never ever enough, I’ll lose everyone I love.
But still it feels like a loss. A huge terrifying loss. Without you, I’m so much less than I dreamed I’d be. So much less. When a beloved friend visited this week, she who is still so free, I sobbed for the way I used to be. Before marriage, kids, jobs, life… How far below joy I’ve fallen.
Rebuilding and crafting change and renewal from this tangle of addiction and craving is so much harder sometimes than at others. When I realize how much I relied on you to get me through. How asleep at the wheel I’d become.
The novocain is wearing off now. I’m girding myself with new people and meetings and new rituals. I’m starting over, every day… Hoping to replace oblivion with real loving (self) kindness.
Whether it’s alcohol, or work, or sex, or kids, jobs, mortgages or in-laws… many of us have neglected to find anything more than mere pittances for ourselves and we’ve completely and utterly lost our way… Remember those wild hopeful girls we used to be? Let’s find them again. Together.
When the twins climbed out of their cribs over 3 years ago, it was a dark dark day. What ensued was a battle of mythic proportions which I lost time and time and time again. Two toddlers giggling and rampaging freely through a bedroom is much like a cyclone in a living room. Furniture is overturned, nerves are shattered. Mommy becomes mean and impatient and scritchy in the extreme.
V climbed out of her crib three days ago and a similar (though dramatically less noisome) kerfuffle has overtaken our previously peaceful nights… and morning naptimes.
I believe there is a need for some kind of allowable Toddler-Keeping contraption that would buy parents much needed sleep…. Maybe:
Mommy’s Lovey Cage
Terrific Toddler Trampoline Sleeper with Four-Sided Gentle Wonder Netting
Benadryl DripoMatic
You’re a Big Girl Now Sleep Encasement!
Fort Freedom (with Locking Doors!)
Or maybe there’s a magical place where Mommies can go to sleep in a capsule while their children play and giggle all night long…
