Should and Supposed to – The quickest way to make yourself feel worse

I have been to enough therapy sessions annd read enough self-help books to know that listening to the litany of ’shoulds’ and ’supposed tos’ is as helpful as trying to ladle soup with a slotted soup.  It may look like the right thing to do but really it is just helping you become more frustrated.

There are moments where I become quite smug about how much I have improved and grown in the past few years which of course simply sets me up to land firmly on my ass in the near future.  That isn’t to say that I haven’t improved – I have.  My need for perfection and control is not as present on a daily basis just when I am feeling overwhelmed and even then I am pretty good about recognising about what is going on.  I have left the house with my hair uncombed, gone over to people’s houses for parties without food/drink and only thought about what a horrible, lazy, mooching person I must be a couple of times.  I didn’t rip out the seams in the last quilt I made and actually gave it away crooked seams and all.  These are good things.  But… the shoulds and supposed to’s may not be quite as loud and they may not sound or look the same as they used to but they still sidle up to me and whisper in my ear, the words worming their way into my brain, while they saunter off casually checking out their nails.

So here, let me pry the wiggling mass of shoulds and oughts and supposed tos and drop them into the basket over there.  Maybe they’ll stay there awhile and give my brain a chance to fill the space up with something less oozy.

I should

• always have a spotlessly clean house, especially if someone is coming to visit
• at least 3 different serving of vegetables at dinner
• cook gourmet, meals from scratch every night and if someone is coming over for dinner there should also be dessert
• comb my hair, brush my teeth and have a shower every morning unless camping
• be patient – ALWAYS – even when my daughter is screaming “No” randomly at the top of her lungs, or half my class decided that bringing the text book to class after being explicitly reminded to an hour previous was to much to remember.
• be willing to cuddle, read books, play blocks, colour, dance or whatever is being asked and enjoy it.
• have a well-stocked pantry.
• not want to have that second glass of wine.  (I would say third even but then there would be judgement.)
• be able to function on 6 or less hours of sleep
• have lost all of the weight gained while pregnant.
• be doing yoga at least 4 times a week or some other form of exercise
• always recycle
• always use my reusable grocery and produce bags
• have sex more
• not want to get away from my family
• save more money, have less debt
• own my own house (or at least have a mortgage)
• have not switched from a MA to a MEd
• mark my students’ work sooner
• have fabulously engaging lessons all the time
• not be sarcastic
• read over my work
• have a clean desk
• do more at work

Then of course, a good mum is supposed to

• be completely loving to her children 100% of the time
• do crafts daily
• never choose to surf the internet or read or sew or do anything other than pay attention to her children, except maybe to clean or cook or organise the craft time
• use cloth diapers
• have children who never have tantrums or say ‘no’ or write on walls at other people’s houses
• use EC and not have a 2 1/2 year old in diapers still
• breastfeed longer/shorter depending on who is talking
• have children who sleep through the night in their own crib from 4 months on
• make her kids eat their vegetables
• find complete and utter fulfilment staying at home with her children
• apply for a job that interests her without worrying about the time away from her children (and husband)
• have enrolled her children into some sort of class
• be patient
• never raise her voice
• be empathetic

I am sure there is more but the basket is overflowing and I am going to have to find something heavy to keep the lid on.  They really are quite ridiculous when you say them out loud.  That’s the cliché though isn’t it – that naming something gives you the power over it.

Potty Wars

Last week I was really enjoying being at home with Miss Pumpkin and Miss Heddy.  Some of you may think that is a horrible thing to say as it suggests that maybe there are times I would prefer to be elsewhere – and there are.  But for the past month or so, I have decided that since I am lucky enough to have a year maternity leave and that we can afford to have me take it with the the only thing taking a hit being that we can’t afford to save as much as we would like – I would give myself over to it and be present in it.  Things were going great.  We were finding a rhythm and there was a lot of laughter and joy in our days.

That was last week.

This week, I would take the first gig offered to me, including policing Vancouver balconies for anti-olympic slogans sponsored by Pepsi. After tiring of the battles that errupted when the time came to change Miss Pumpkin’s diaper and knowing that she can go in the potty and that she tells us when she needs to be changed (unless she doesn’t want to be changed), we decided it was time to potty train full board.  No diapers during the day.  I had read lots, talked to people and had been reassured that 3 days in and no peeing in the potty was completely normal and to be expected.  We are 5 days in and there has been no peeing in the potty.  Today I had her sit on the potty every hour, sometimes we read a story, sometimes we sang songs.  No pee.  In the potty that is.  Twice she peed in her pants.  The first time she told me she had to go (she had already went), we went to the potty and sat.  The water was running (which caused me to cringe to think of the waste) and nothing.  Not a single drop.  Change of clothes and off she went only to call out 5 minutes later that she had to go pee.  She had already gone.  Back on the potty,  nothing and then more clean clothes.  The same thing happened later when she was getting ready to bed.

I could handle this if she wasn’t being so contrary.  To be truthful I could handle it a lot better if I wasn’t so tired.  At one point, I just gave up and cried.  I was so tired after the 4 am wake up and the juggling act of trying to feed Miss Heddy and put her down for a nap (another area of worry as she has stopped taking her long naps, please not another Miss Pumpkin), encourage Miss Pumpkin’s attempts at affection towards her sister, deal with the usual issues around ‘quiet time’ that when Miss Pumpkin decided to take her sister’s teething toy and ram it into her eye, there was nothing left.  I just sat and cried.  (The tears occurred later, when I got the paper towel roll in the face).  I appreciated the empathy Miss P gave me but really at the same time all I wanted was for her to go and pee in the potty.

Obviously something deeper is going on here, for both her and me.  I complain of her stubborness but it is not like she doesn’t come by it honestly.  How do I know if my refusal to go back to diapers is simply me vbeing stubborn and refusing to ‘lose’?

Hopefully tomorrow morning I will have made a decision about our next step.  In the meantime I have been thinking that maybe I need to start ec with Miss Heddy as I just don’t think that I can face this process with a second child.

When Your 5 Month Old Sleeps Better Than You

I have insomnia.  It has been off and on since dad’s death and it is back again.  I wake up, usually around 3 and then if I am lucky drift in and out of sleep until the alarm goes off.  Then more drifting until Miss Pumpkin decides its time to get up. I don’t function well without sleep, in fact I don’t function.  I need at least 8 hours of sleep a night to be at my best and a solid 6 in order to stay healthy.  We co-sleep with Miss Heddy (and it is quite possible to find one of us in Miss Pumpkin’s bed at least once a week).  We co-sleep because it is easy for me to roll over in the middle of the night, stick the nipple in the mouth and carry on sleeping.  Well, at least that was what it was like with Miss Pumpkin.  It is the same steps with Miss Heddy just not my going back to sleep.* Do you know how frustrating it is to have a baby that sleeps and have insomnia?

My mum, brother and sister are also having trouble sleeping again.  Maybe it is some stage in the grief cycle.  We are approaching the year mark.  I realized when Miss Heddy was born that it had been 4 months since dad died.  Christmas marked the end of the next 4 months.  We have my birthday, Ryan’s, my aunts and his coming up in the next 2 months.  Last year we moved on his birthday.  He and mum took Miss Pumpkin for the day and then came over and brought dinner.  I remember looking at him and thinking something was off.  He was so quiet that night and it looked like he was struggling to hear/understand what was going on.  Of course, now I know that he was struggling, that he had been for quite awhile.

I have been crying more lately too. A couple of Sundays ago I was listening to the Vinyl Cafe in the car and Stuart Maclean was telling a story about the birthday card for his brother that he and his sisters had found marking the birthday cake recipe.  I knew the story, I had heard it before but I still cried.  A small voice piped up from the back, “What’s wrong Mama?”  “I miss Nono.”  I said, trying to stabilise my voice. “Oh.” and then “I miss Nono too. It’s ok to cry mama.”

I worry so much that I am somehow scarring her.  That her taking her to the hospital, taking her to the gravesides, talking to her openly about illness and death, crying in front of her will somehow damage her and then I think but I can’t pretend that this doesn’t happen.  Isn’t it better for her to see that you can grieve and laugh at the same time.  That the smallest moments of joy can push away despair and bring solace.  I see what is going on in Haiti and am sure that amongst the devastation and horror there is laughter and love and joy and hope even if they are just brief moments.

I don’t know what is causing me to lay awake at night and I suspect dwelling on it will not make it go away.   I have to trust that my subconscious mind knows what she is doing.  In the meantime, a sleep-warmed Miss Pumpkin has emerged from her room and is snuggling in for a morning cuddle.

* It is amazing how different the two girls are already in temperment.  Imogen was a snuggler when she was asleep.  She would nestle right into me.  Miss Heddy spread eagles across the bed.  The little body takes up more space than Ryan and I.  In fact I will wake up and both of us are balanced at the edge of the bed as though we are doing some strange horizontal circus act.  However, Miss Heddy may take up more than her share of the bed but she also sleeps through the night or wakes up once.  In fact, the other night when I woke up to a left breast that felt like it was about to burst and I tried to wake her up to eat so that it didn’t turn into mastitis she wanted nothing to do with it. Thank goodness there was a cabbage in the fridge. Though the there was a moment of panic when I looked down and thought that my breast was horribly bruised and then realized that it was dye from the red cabbage.

Last Sundayure

Opening doors

I had to do an exercise while getting my Education degree that had me fill out a chart of my strengths and weaknesses and then I had to go and ask a parent and two other people to also complete it.  I wish that I had those charts now.  I remember at the time being struck by the difference in other people’s perception of me and my own perception of my self.  Which was the whole point of the exercise.  I wonder what differences would be on that paper now, 10 years later.

I know what roles I play at home and at work.  I am a little more unsure of the role that I play with my friends.   I know how I want people to perceive me – confident, warm, capable, organized, loving, intelligent, creative, successful, strong. I know the role model that I want to be for my daughters.  I know that when I am feeling unsure my body tries to go back to my old patterns of perfectionism and body hatred and I have to remind myself that I have new healthier paths that I can take.

So who is the woman hidden behind the body of my public self, who clutches on to the legs and peers around looking out at the world for a moment before returning to her safe, protected place.

I become closer to seeing the me that exists hidden under the guises worn to ward off the demons that used to feed on the layers of shame, half-truths, judgement, fear and guilt. I think at times I am more scared of unmasking her than I am of the demons.  They, I can pretend to have control over.  I know those dances, those roles.  I have carefully and tenderly crafted my abilities and talents to balance the demons.  What am I afraid of? The simple answer is me.  The more complex answer is my spirit.

I have always been drawn to the slightly odd, the mystic, the things that make you go ‘hmmm.’  I have always seen things out of the corner of my eye and sometimes flagrantly right out front.  Signs have come, people have spoken and things provided at the most critical moments of my life and some not so critical.  I have laughed it off, dismissed it as my hippie tendencies, pushed it away, burying it deep, deep, deeper.

Now she is here, close to the surface.  I can feel her moving under my skin, sliding in and out of my bones, her words fall out of my mouth, spoken in her voice.  I glimpse her laughing at me through my eyes when I look in the mirror.  I feel her presence as my bare foot curls and then presses itself to the ground.  The heaviness of her life fills my womb, causing it to ache as its sides are pushed taut, outwards to give her room.

Do I push her out?

Do I welcome her?

Deep breath in. Feel it circle through my belly. Feel it nourish my blood.  Feel it fill my lungs. It exits my lips. My breath whispers, ‘yes’ and we are reborn.

Fingernails on a Chalkboard? No, just Miss Pumpkin asking for milk.

So last week I was presented with the challenge to go towards something that I am resisting, to take the time to sit with a moment where I was triggered by something Miss Pumpkin did.  It took no thought on my part to know that my greatest trigger is whining.  Most of the time I  can sit through tantrums and keep calm, walk away from power struggles, take deep breaths when I am getting frustrated and change my approach to situations but whining it gets me.  It is my Waterloo, my kryptonite.  My reaction is not limited to Miss Pumpkin, but extends to the kids I teach, colleagues, people on the news, me and whoever else may be whining.

My whole body tenses as soon as I hear the first note.  Before the first word is finished I am looking for a way to stop it.  I have tried to ignore it, to breathe through it, to calmly ask for the request to be rephrased in a tone of voice that is more pleasant, mocked it, yelled and walked away from it.  I get angry and all I what I want to do is to lash out, to get the person as far away from me as I can, to tell them to deal with it,  to stop acting like a baby, to stop making demands on me and at me.  (Nice huh.)  I don’t (usually) do these things but I find it hard to listen through the tone and the tugging (Miss Pumpkin usually is tugging because of course I have been ignoring her so that I can count to ten and breathe through the whining.  You can see how this can just escalate into pure badness).

So for the past week I have been sitting with it.  Within the first day of mulling this over, without consciously looking for information on it, 4 different places talked about whining and its causes.  All of them agreed that whining comes from a need to be taken care of or babied.  That whether you are dealing with a 2 year old, a 12 year old or a 32 year old if that person is whining then they have a need to be babied that isn’t being met and that the best way to stop whining is to make sure your whiner is getting babied.  At first that struck me as odd and a little wrong as I kept imagining teenagers and adults being swaddled and bounced on laps but when I sat with it a little longer and started thinking about when whining happens most often with us older folks it’s when we are sick or when things are moving too fast and we are frightened.  When do I want my mum, when I am sick and scared.  So, why is Miss Pumpkin whining? Because she is feeling the need to babied. Why does she need to feel babied – maybe she hasn’t had the cuddles and snuggles that she has needed or wanted, maybe she has watched her sister getting fed and held on demand, maybe she misses her dad or Nona or me, maybe she isn’t feeling well, maybe she is scared because things are changing too quickly.  Who knows, all I know is that this realisation has made it easier to listen to her when she whines.  I still ask her to change her tone but not because I am trying to silence her and then I make sure that she gets lots of cuddles and babying time through out the day.  I also find mirroring the whining has been helping too. Since I have started approaching it in this way the whining seems to have diminished.

But what is it about whining that gets me?  What am I reacting to that I need to work on?

• Is it my own fear of not keeping it together?
• Is it my own dislike of asking for help?
• Is it my fear of being seen as weak?
• Is it my fear of being pinned down by other people’s needs?

I have little patience with myself when I hear myself whining.  I tell myself “to get it together,”  “to stop being a baby,” “suck it up,” “whining doesn’t fix anything, so solve the problem.”  Not very kind.  So my challenge is to be just as kind and empathetic with myself as I am trying to be with my daughter and other people in my life.  To acknowledge that when I am whining I need to be babied and to make sure then that I am feeling cared for.

Looking for Sleep

So you want to know what continues to be my biggest challenge in this parenting thing?  Sleeping.  Not me.  Miss Pumpkin.  We brace ourselves every night for the battle.  Afternoons are usually a little better but not by much.  At least in the afternoon I can decide to let her have quiet time.  I can’t let her have quiet time at night, because she will play in her room for hours and a) I can’t relax when she is up and b) I can’t go to sleep when she is up.  The last few nights she was still up at 9:30 and awake by 7:30 with a 1 1/2 hour nap.  Today there will be no nap.  This is not good for my personal sanity or my marriage.

Usually, I can pull it together.  Today I just want to cry and scream and yell. Instead I will write here and take some long, cleansing deep breaths and practice ignoring.

I can hear her voice from her room, when I checked on her she was reading Mama Bear, Mama Bear What Do You See?, correctly.  On Wednesday at the library, I left Ryan with the girls while I went and checked out our books.  I came back and he was staring at Miss Pumpkin while she read to him like she was some strange creature.   I wasn’t really paying it any attention because she always ‘reads’ aloud.  Ryan asked me if I had read Imogen the book before.  I looked, “Never saw it before” says I. “Are you listening to her?”  Ryan asks. “Ummm no – not really, should I be?” And then I started to really listen and watch what she was doing.  Miss Pumpkin was holding up the book (like you do when you are reading a book to a group and showing pictures) and telling the story of the monkey looking for her Mama.  A bit precocious but really she has been doing the pretend reading to an audience for awhile and she has been on a mamma phase as of late.  Ryan then said “So, she picked up the book, gleaned from the cover that the monkey had lost his mum and started telling the story about the baby monkey looking for his Mamma.”  “Oh,” says I, “so you didn’t read it to her first?”   “No, this is all her.”

Miss P is only 2 1/2, she should not be reading.  Granted she is not reading the letters but she has memorized pretty much any story we have read to her once and will make up stories based on the pictures if she hasn’t read the book before.  She will sit through 5 Munsch books in one sitting and want more.  I am pretty sure that I could be reading her chapter books and as long as there are some pictures she would be ok.  The problem is that she wants to be read to from cover to cover.  We have begun to hide her anthologies because she is not satisfied with only one story from them.

We have tried all the various herbal/natural/homoeopathic/aromatherapy methods.  No melatonin as it is a hormone and that makes me kind of nervous to be giving it to a small child but give me a week and that might change.  It’s like she can’t let herself slow down,  (As a side note:  I just checked on her to tell her to get back into bed because that is where she is supposed to be if she is having quiet time.  She is on the bed.  She is standing on her head with about 10 books scattered around her.  I just closed the door and laughed)

Is it time for the doctor?

So.  Here I am.  A daughter who prefers to read over sleep, who has never gone to sleep easily or quickly and it is getting worse not better.  Then there is me, who would like to have 1 hour in a day, where there I can’t hear any voices that belong to children, where I can spend time with Ryan, where I can have a bath and not have to listen to negotiations.

Got to go.  Miss Heddy just woke up.

Thank-you but No

Over 2 years ago we applied to 2 co-ops and then another the following spring. This past spring, we were offered a place in the one that we really wanted.  I explained that we had just moved, I was 6 months pregnant and dealing with dad’s death and that now was not the right time.  I figured we would have at least another 6 months before our names came up.  Nope, 2 months later we got another call that we were up on the list and as I was due to give birth at any moment, we again had to turn it down and lose our spot.  Two weeks previously we had received a call from one of the other co-ops that we had applied to that our names had come up.  As that place  was offering a 2 bedrooms it was easy to turn it down and wait for a 3 bedroom.

You can already see what is coming, can’t you.

This Friday we got a call that our name had come up again for the co-op (not the one that we really want) and this time it is a 3 bedroom available for February.  We decided to go to the interview and check the place out.  It was essentially offered to us but they had been unable to show us the place so they couldn’t offer it to us outright.

Sounds great!  My housing needs solved and I can focus my attention on my other two wishes. So why am I feeling like it doesn’t seem like the right decision to take the place? When Ryan and I got together we promised ‘no settling’ and we repeated that promise to one another in our wedding vows.  This feels like we would be settling because we are afraid.  Neither of us have felt very good since our landlords implied that they would be moving in sooner that the 2 years that they had previously thought.  That combined with Vancouver’s crazy housing market that seems to defy all known laws of economics and common sense has led us to feel like suspect financial decisions will be be the only way for us to purchase a house in the Lower Mainland (one day I’ll write about the advice we got from financial planner as to how we could purchase our house).  If we don’t purchase, our home stability will always be at the whim of another person.  It would seem, then that getting into a co-op is exactly what we should do.

Except, I don’t want to live there.

It is not just that there is carpeting in the living space and that we would be living on top of somebody. There is also the fact that it is not as walking friendly as our present location and I worry about mould.  However, there are many positives – lots of kids, community oriented, stable, 1250 square feet, and cheap rent.

Still don’t want to live there.

I feel like I am being childish and over-demanding in not being ecstatic about being offered this place. It feels like we would be settling because we can put check marks in most of the boxes and as no one ever gets to check off all the boxes taking the place  is the ‘right’ and ‘responsible’ decision to make.

We will go and look at the place (tonight if the snow isn’t too bad) and then we will have to make a decision by tomorrow.

I Perform Before a Live Audience Don’t You Know

Currently, I am participating in a on-line parenting course. I came across the blog awhile ago, I don’t remember what I was searching for but this was obviously what I needed to find.  Reading it has provided me much comfort and a lot to reflect on as I go about my day.  Often there is synchronicity between what Kris is writing and what I am needing to hear.

So.  One of the tasks was to think about who I am trying to please and to write down the image of the BAD Mum and then the image of the GOOD Mum  (Kris said ‘parent but I am a mum or momma as Miss Pumpkin has taken to calling me and I am not really concerned about being a good or bad dad, Ryan has that one covered).

BAD Mum – impatient, critical, un-organized, house in disorder, yells, distracted, doesn’t want to play, feels claustrophobic, selfish, just wipes the spit-up off, doesn’t do crafts with them, is disheveled and not in the sexy just got out of bed way after a night of hot sex but the didn’t get enough sleep and none of my clothes fit properly and I think that I forgot to comb my hair and brush my teeth before I left the house kind of way, wastes time, cooks and bakes with them, takes years to complete sewing/knitting projects, wants to go back to work

GOOD Mum – patient, loving all the time, changes them as soon as they spit up on themselves, knows exactly what to do/say in every situation, wants to play, do crafts, lets them paint without worrying about the mess, has children without runny noses, encouraging, an exemplary role model, is completely fulfilled and loves being a stay at home mum, has a clean and organized house with gourmet home cooked meals on the stove and nourishing baking in the oven, sewing/knitting projects are completed, looks perfectly put together and does not still look like they are 5 months pregnant.

Both lists could go on ad naseum but really there is no point.   They exist to make me feel miserable because I NEVER put myself in the role of the good mum.  The purpose of the good mum is to act as a foil for my follies and shortcomings.  Healthy isn’t it.  I can’t consider myself to be good or successful (this goes to all things in my life not just me as mum) because that is being proud and out there and that is wrong.  Isn’t it?  Oh, this is a gold mine for a discussion of identity construction and femininity but that can happen another day – or you could read one of the papers from my Master’s.

Ready for the answer to the first question – who am I trying to please or who is my audience?  No one that really exists.  I worry about what others think of me, what they think of my children and their behaviour, my parenting choices and methods.  I worry about the stranger who walks past our door when Miss Pumpkin is in full blown tantrum or when we are out and she is not playing quietly.  I assume that whoever is watching is judging and therefore participating in my ineractions.  I choose to let them be an audience in my mind.  There are very few times that I have had people openly question my parenting choices (ok, make that one person).  I do this to me.

Last night while thinking about all of this, I thought about the difference between ‘audience’ and ‘witness’.  The first carries with it the expectation of engagement and critique.  The person(s) on display demand an audience, they want an audience. For example, a play is written specifically to have an audience.  A witness, however, is an observer, who in theory, does not judge but simply states what they saw, heard  or experienced.  I will always have witnesses to my interactions but I do not have to play to them.

Currently, I am participating in a on-line parenting course. I came across the blog awhile ago, I don’t remember what I was searching for but this was obviously what I needed to find.  Reading it has provided me much comfort and a lot to reflect on as I go about my day.  Often there is synchronicity between what Kris is writing and what I am needing to hear.

So.  One of the tasks was to think about who I am trying to please and to write down the image of the BAD Mum and then the image of the GOOD Mum  (Kris said ‘paren;t but I am a mum or momma as Miss Pumpkin has taken to calling me and I am not really concerned about being a good or bad dad, Ryan has that one covered).

BAD Mum – impatient, critical, un-organized, house in disorder, yells, distracted, doesn’t want to play, feels claustrophobic, selfish, changes them as soon as they spit up on themselves, doesn’t do crafts with them, is disheveled and not in the sexy just got out of bed way but the didn’t get enough sleep and none of my clothes fit properly kind of way, wastes time, cooks and bakes with them, takes years to complete sewing/knitting projects, wants to go back to work

GOOD Mum – patient, loving all the time, knows exactly what to do/say in every situation, wants to play, do crafts, let them paint without worrying about the mess, has children without runny noses, encouraging, an exemplary role model, is completely fulfilled and loves being a stay at home mum, has a clean and organized house with gourmet home cooked meals on the stove and nourishing baking in the oven, sewing/knitting projects are completed, looks perfectly put together and does not still look like they are 5 months pregnant.

Both lists could go on as naseum but really there is no point.   They exist to make me feel miserable because I NEVER put myself in the role of the good mum.  The purpose of the good mum is to act as a foil for my follies and shortcomings.  Healthy, isn’t it.  I can’t consider myself to be good or successful (this goes to all things in my life not just me as mum) because that is being proud and out there and that is wrong.  Isn’t it?  Oh, this is where my spidey senses tingle about the

Clarity Sometimes Visits at Odd Hours

Two nights ago I had the case of the mean reds at 2am.  This is much earlier for me, usually my night wakings are about 4am.  We had received more sad news that day, a good friend of Ryan’s family had died that morning and so I think that my mind needed the time and space to process.  I was less interested in processing and more interested in sleeping as both Miss Pumpkin and Miss Heddy were asleep.  The mind won.

I had just mentioned to Ryan how I was having difficulty stilling my mind.  That even when I manage to stop the body from moving, my mind refuses to still itself and experience the moment. Instead I go from one thought to the next at such a frantic pace that I feel like I don’t know who I am when it pauses.  I offered Ryan a glimpse into what I was speaking about as we shared actual time together without children near us.  It went something like this:

I noticed that the plant needs watering and wondered about the plants determination to live as it is always forgotten, then I noticed the wardrobe and that we bought it for Imogen and how are we going to fit it into her room and do I want to paint her dresser and if so should I paint her bed.  Do I want to go to Kerrisdale or West Van to buy the paint, I hate having allergies, does Miss Heddy have allergies should I worry about giving her peanuts, we haven’t had peanut chicken for awhile, drat I forgot to buy some of the Ontario peanut butter from Jodi, should I get some Maple Syrup when we are back there?, do they make maple syrup in Ontario, we have maple trees here but no maple syrup, I want a house and trees, maybe an orchard, I need to make more applesauce, did I liked the size of jars that I used last time – they take up a lot of room but I don’t have to measure when I am baking, the oatmeal raisin muffins were a bust, need to go back to the blueberries, how many bags do we have left in the freezer, should we buy another freezer …

I realize that I am not unique in my busyness of thoughts, but I am getting frustrated that I find it so hard to just be in the moment and let myself take pleasure where I am right now.  There I was, getting to spend time with Ryan without any other physical distraction and I couldn’t just stop and savour the deliciousness.

So there I was at 2am with a body that just wanted to grasp at the moments of sleep and bliss that it was being given and a mind that saw the quiet and lack of distractions as the perfect time to process.  So I gave in.  I let it have centre stage and decided to see what it would show me.

There was crying and grieving.  There were fears voiced and dismissed.  There was planning and organizing.  Then finally there was stillness.  From the depths of that stillness the word ‘wish’ rushed forward and filled my consciousness.  I remembered all the stories where the person was granted 3 wishes. I rembered the endless list that I had made, the tricks that I had come up with that would enable me to have more wishes whenever I managed to find my genie or leprachaun.  The careful balancing act of keeping greed and desire in check with philanthropy and selflessness so that you can still be considered a ‘good’ person as you bask in your riches.  It has been a long time since I have prepared my 3 wishes just in case so that is what I did in the wee hours of the morning.  I went about it a little differently, I decided to not make big wishes that would necessitate them being granted by magical beings but ones that I could make happen with a little bit of help from the universe. When I was done, I turned over and went to sleep.

So here are my newly, revised 3 wishes.

1-  Peace.  I would like to ask for world peace but I can’t make that happen.  I can however make my life and the lives of the people I interact with more peaceful.  The times that I have been successful in having love, patience and positivity at the forefront of my mind when engaging with a fully enraged and frustrated Miss Pumpkin are the times from which some of our best interactions have been born.  I want to offer myself and others a place that is calming, nurturing and loving.  I want to learn how to silence the voice that judges, criticizes and mocks.  I want to learn how to be still, to be grounded.  I want to make mistakes and have that be ok.  I want others to feel that it is ok to make mistakes.  I want to honour anger, grief and all the other ‘bad’ emotions.  I want fear and worry to be replaced by hope and possibility.

2. A permanent home – I want my own place where my family and I can root.  I want permanence.  I want the opportunity to make a home that is ours, that is welcoming, that is calm and nurturing and that can not be taken away from us because of another’s whim.  A house that grows with us rather than us growing out of it.  I want to be near my family and friends and not have to choose a home over them.  I want to look at the walls and floors and see the marks as stories to be treasured and not part of a running total of dollars and cents.  I want a house that is old.  A house that needs to be loved.  A house that if we take care of it will take care of us.  I want a backyard filled with trees.  A place where our children can explore, imagine other worlds, sleep outside on a whim and pull nourishing food from its soil.  I want a place where I can cook, sew, read, laugh, cry, knit, play, clean, talk, kiss, comfort, fight, share, take, dream, grow.

3.  Career  – I want to explore new possibilites at work without worrying that my family and I will suffer.  I want to take on new challenges and roles that allow me to engage with others.  I want to share my passion.  I want to make the world a better place for children and adults who are having a hard time of it.

There. I have cast my wishes out, pushing each one out one breath at a time. May the universe gather them and bless me with their fulfillment.

My mind is at ease for the moment, luxuriating in the pink cheek pressed up against my breast.  Contented.

(Would it be wrong to put a due date on wishes?  If not, Christmas at my home next year would be wonderful.)

A Toddler, sibling rivalry and my ear

Usually I am a pretty affectionate, physical person with the people that I care about.  I am careful about who I hug as I know that some people are not as physical and that is ok.  The last little while, I have been feeling clausttophobic.  Miss Pumpkin has been marking her territory (namely my lap and ear) in order to teach her younger sister Miss Heddy the natural pecking order of our house.  This is fine, except that Miss Heddy HAS to be in my arms/lap as I am breastfeeding and she, like the rest of her family, likes food.  The result – one baby on the nipple and a toddler on my ear.  I can’t tell the one on the nipple to scram which means the toddler has been hearing it.  This of course, has meant that Miss Pumpkin is even more insistent that she needs to be in my lap AND holding my ear AND of course dancing, singing or whatever activity in which she is presently engaged.  In fact, Miss Pumpkin has been asking for my ear A LOT and at the oddest of times; putting her in her carseat for example.  I am sure that you can understand why my ear would be unavailable to her while I drove – she,however, did not.

The ear pulling has been Miss Pumpkin’s thing since she could grab on to it.  As far as I can understand, the ear pulling provides her comfort and stability.  It as though she needs a physical connection to a person who loves her.  This is fine and usually I am ok with it, except that I have been feeling the need for more physical space.  This, combined with my being dsistracted with the unexpected death of Ryan’s grandma,a trip to Thunder Bay and before that simply adjusting to life with two children under 3, meant that I didn’t pick up her signals.  I think Miss Pumpking is feeling overwhelmed and when she has reached out to the person who is supposed to be her stable place, me, she has been getting told “not now, no, later, stop…”  Hmmm, I wonder why her behaviour has been so out of control lately.  This morning she actually hit me.  That was enough to make me stop and reflect.

Now, I did not cause her to hit me, she chose to hit me but I did teach her being physical with someone is an ok way to get them to do what you want.  You see, along with the pushing her away, there have been a number of times that I have grabbed on to her and tried to force her to look at me, or get off the floor etc…  Each time, I have felt uncomfortable but instead of stopping and checking in with myself I have continued.  It never ends well, in fact it never has really ended.  We have just moved from one crisis to the next (exacerbated by a lack of sleep for all of us).  My frustration with the last interaction, simmers inside,  ready to burble up at the slightest provocation; while my mantra has become “bad mum, bad mum.”  I haven’t been very loving or forgiving with myself, even though I know I can’t be truly gentle or loving with others if I am not being gentle with me.  Meanwhile, Miss Pumpkin has become frustrated as I haven’t been listening to her.  She has been reaching out for comfort and too often has been rebuffed.  (She has also been asking to watch TV more.  Is there a connection?)

This family has been on a roller coaster ride for 8 months.  We spent every day for almost a month with dad in the hospital/hospice, been at 2 graveside ceremonies, I went on bed rest, added Miss Heddy to our family, hosted grandma and grandda’, Ryan went back to work after being off for summer, flew to Thunder Bay and stayed at grandma and grandda’s not child friendly house and met a bunch of new people. I have been feeling overwhelmed and off centred, no wonder the 2 year old might be feeling the need for stability.

I can’t change life but I can change how I deal with it and therefore how my family deals with it.  I have been impatient with myself that I am not more patient, in the moment and loving and the result is that I haven’t been the parent/person I want to be.

So here I am.  Ready to listen to what I am feeling, ready to hear what my family is saying and doing so with mindfulness and love.