Reminiscing

On this Mother’s Day, 2014, I’ve been sitting here thinking, obviously, about what being a mother meant to me – and means to me still as I sit in my empty nest!  It’s thirty-two years since I held my first born in my arms. I was nineteen, and overwhelmed with the awesome responsibility of it all, terrified that I would mess it up, that I would mess him up, that I would just fail. I had spent my pregnancy reading everything I could get my hands on, and academically, I knew exactly what to do in any circumstance, from tantrums to choking to swearing to head lice!  I knew exactly when the milestones were supposed to occur. I knew how to swaddle, to change nappies (!) to burp, to bathe.  Surprisingly, I was somewhat shocked to immediately feel this strong mother bear sensation as I looked at him, and know that I loved him completely and endlessly, and realize, with a jolt, that I would quite literally kill for him, or die for him.  Yes, I knew every practical baby/child tidbit there was to know, but I hadn’t expected to be slammed with a kind of love I’d never really felt before. Go figure – I was always a little weird!  

Even though I was overwhelmed with love, I was kinda rigid in my parenting style. Determined as I was to prove wrong all those who thought I was too young, I stuck to a plan and a schedule and was mildly surprised to find it worked very well. He did things when they were ‘supposed’ to be done, he was cheerful, he thrived!  Yay for me, I thought. I’m pretty damn good at this!

Until he was two or three and he asserted his independence and resentment of the rigid schedule!  Then all hell began to break loose.  Shit, I thought. It was a fool’s paradise.  I’m a sucky mother after all!

Melanie came along when Danny was four. I thought I didn’t care about the sex of this second baby, but clearly that was something I just said because it’s what you’re supposed to say, because I was over the top thrilled with my baby girl. Not only a girl-child, but a beautiful, pale, plump cheeked cherub with huge, calm, bright blue eyes.  I had a little more understanding of how the whole mothering thing worked by then, so I was less rigid but no less in love.  I remember sitting looking at them one day, as Danny leaped somewhat suicidally off the back of the couch, his Superman cape flying out behind him, and just missed Mel, who had started to crawl, and although my heart was pounding, I was overwhelmed with love for them both.  Somehow, we had created these remarkable, scary little people!  Amazing.

And Steven came squawking into our world a year and a half after Mel, a little blue man, with the cord wrapped around his neck and needing all sorts of attention, like suctioning and monitoring.  He was colicky and shrieky for the first few months, refused to breastfeed as happily as his siblings had, and was  just a completely different child.  I was just as in love, of course, but I was overprotective of him, less inclined to be patient and understanding if he was in danger from his overactive brother’s antics. At six months old, I gave up the breast feeding battle, gave him a bottle and watched him suddenly thrive! Jeez!  From that day to this, I never judge any mother who chooses, for whatever reason, not to breastfeed!  To each his own, indeed!

And with that, I was all done!  No more for me. I would throw myself into being the best possible mother of these three beautiful and much loved people. I was much more relaxed by now, and much less rigid. But still, I had no desire to be their best friend. I was their mother, and I had a job to do!  It was easier back then because everyone felt the same way!  No was a word they needed to learn at home, because the adult world is full of ‘no’s, and how will they know how to handle it if they never hear it!  Yep, there would be time for friendship when they became adults, perhaps!  Call me old-fashioned – I still think it’s the best way!

I think I was a decent mother for the next few years. My life revolved around theirs. From sporting  events, to regular play dates, to craft times and birthday parties and bedtime stories and endless lullabies. I tried to adjust my parenting to their individual personalities and tried to figure out the challenges in creative ways.  I loved them all so passionately, and I wanted the world for them.

And suddenly, unexpectedly (but joyously, only ever joyously) there was Rachel! Born in her sister’s image, she was so gorgeous, another plump, pale and blue eyed beauty. And how everyone adored her, this late addition!  There were battles over who would hold her next, who would push the stroller, who would dress her.  She was calm and easy. She fed well, slept well and was a delight for us all! 

Decisions were made over the next decade and our lives changed radically. I made the decisions for all of us – with trepidation, with hope. No decision was ever made that wasn’t mulled over, slept on, considered from all angles.  And no decision (even the biggest of them all) was made without everyone in mind.  So some things worked out well, and others did not, and that’s life, I guess.  I know they know I love them as fiercely as I did on the day they were born, when I whispered thoughts and promises into their new ears.  I kept to those promises as best I could, and on one of them especially, I have never wavered. I promise to love you through anything in your life and mine.  My sweet four.  My life.

They think I have favorites.  But we mothers know, don’t we?  There are no favorites at all – there never have been or could be.  There are just different relationships, is all. What works for one doesn’t work for another, and what one needs, another one does not, and I hate that that can be seen as favoritism.  I could no more choose one over another than fly in the air!  And I love that they are different, from me and from each other. 

I love that they are good people, who care about each other and the world around them. That they are strong and tough, that they meet their own challenges.  I love that they have  good work ethics  and empathy and love. 

I wish the world for them on this mother’s day and always, and while everyone is thanking their mothers today, I want to thank my kids!  Thanks for being such great kids! Fun, funny, creative, smart, caring and cool.  And all that and cute too!! 

And I love them to the moooooooon and back… forever!

No forgiveness here

Someone sent me a forwarded message which suggested that the way back, after all this horror,  is to fill our hearts with love and light, and find forgiveness in our hearts for the perpetrators.

The way  Bostonians rallied after the tragedy, the amazing generosity of body and spirit, the solidarity, the courage – there is much to admire and respect, and my heart is full as I read people’s stories. It is hard to fathom how hundreds of people put aside thoughts of their own safety, and rushed headlong into the middle of such a huge mess. I am floored by the scenes I’m seeing. So many people running instinctively TOWARD the area where the bombs exploded.  It boggles my mind, but I am filled with admiration and huge respect. I wonder how many of us have that sort of selfless caring in us.  They’re inspirational. And they show us something which keeps that little spark of hope alive. There is humanity, there is still love and there is still hope.

But don’t talk to me about forgiveness.

 I don’t want to get forwarded messages purporting to be from angels, (that one is particularly offensive) explaining how to go on with understanding and forgiveness in our hearts.  Do not mention forgiveness to me unless your beautiful, beloved daughter was within yards of the finish line, as mine was, right in between the two blasts, suffering the hellish terror of the event.  I will debate forgiveness with you only if you can tell me you shared the agony of those two minutes of waiting for her to respond.

Two minutes.  Two millennia.

  

I, like millions of others, stand with Boston as recovery begins, to show that Boston survives, America survives, we survive with strength and purpose. You did not win anything, you miserable, cowardly  fuckers. You brought us to our knees, but today we stumble to our feet and begin to shuffle forward and by tomorrow we will gather our strength and our stride will gain purpose once more. They will not stop the spirit of Boston, even though they slow our pace and make us as a people grieve as one.

I am keeping love and immense caring and respect in my heart for those who suffered most, love for those whose suffering will continue endlessly as they come to terms with disabilities and devastating loss  and love for those who showed so much care and love themselves, as they helped those unfortunate injured.  I have not lost  faith in humanity, as Monday’s horror showed us the best as well as the worst  – and I am not filled up with the need for vengeance, but I am not ashamed to say that I hope there is a miserable death waiting for these criminals who, on Monday, changed the face of a beautiful sunny Boston afternoon. No forgiveness or understanding here.

Do not forward  bullshit emails to me about forgiveness .

I remain inspired by the good, amazed and uplifted by the spirit of hope - but I still hope the perpetrators die slowly, and I hope there’s a Hell.

No More Bah Humbug

As I prepare to celebrate Christmas 2012, with this pall of tragedy draped heavily over it, I feel a kind of responsibility to find the joy in the season, as those lost babies in Connecticut would have. I feel a need to join in with the rampant overabundance of this holiday season and remember, with every step I take and every cent I spend, how lucky I am to be able to do it. I feel a sense of urgency when I think of Christmas with my kids this year, to celebrate it all to its fullest extent. 

I know how lucky I am. . .and I won’t whine about any of it. I will not allow the doom and gloom to win.

This world can be a sad, cold-hearted bitch at times, for sure, but we are alive in it today. I am off to find conscious joy in the shopping and the cooking and the decorating and yes, even in the spending, because I’m alive to do it. It would feel wrong to do otherwise.

In honor of twenty six people who have died too soon, I will celebrate Christmas with all of the love and joy and excitement that this season should bring to us. And that feels right and respectful.

No more bah humbug.

 We are alive.

I will vote!

I will vote for President Barack Obama next Tuesday.   Because inheriting a spiraling mess is a huge challenge for an incoming president, and I realize that it takes many years to slow that spiral and start an improvement.  Because I believe that President Obama deserves his 8 years to fix President Bush’s mess.  The deficit we have now came about as a result of funding two  wars and providing an economic stimulus to avoid a second great depression – which would have been MUCH worse for most of us than where we are now, recovering from recession. When I take that into account, and then add in the frustrating consequences of congressional republicans deliberately blocking bills, and then laying the blame at the President’s feet, I must, in all good conscience, give him my vote of confidence for a second term and hope that the next Congress will be more reasonable in their decision making, perhaps basing their choices on the validity of the bills, rather than the “just say no” game we’ve seen with this congress. It is a truly pathetic congress who ignores the well-being of their constituents in favor of blocking progress just to scupper a president.  

I will vote for President Obama because in spite of congress, in spite of his presidential inheritance, he has managed to move the country in the right direction. He could not wave a magic wand over the mess, but jobs are coming back, slow and steady. Manufacturing industries are beginning to thrive again. The war in Iraq is over. Troops in Afghanistan will be coming home soon.  And Osama Bin Laden is dead.

It’s actually a pretty damn good four years work.

I will vote for President Obama because I want my LGBT friends to enjoy the same rights as I do. The right to marry whomever they choose, to have children, to be at a hospital bedside without question.  I have a deep appreciation for President Obama’s consideration of the issue, and his subsequent announcement of support.  

This is progress.

I will vote for President Obama because past progress should not be wiped out.  Because Roe v. Wade should never be revisited in the Supreme Court. Because women sometimes need to have abortions, for physical reasons, emotional reasons, medical reasons and practical reasons  (NOT just reasons that are approved by a testosterone heavy and old-fashioned government!) and the potential loss of the right to make those decisions is an appalling step backward in terms of women’s rights.  Because removing funding for Planned Parenthood would be a catastrophe for women who rely on it for screening tests, advice on their own health and wellbeing and yes, abortions when necessary.   I will vote for President Obama because he is still pushing for equal pay for women, even though the senate republicans have once again blocked the bill this past June, proving that stopping progress by playing politics is more important to them than the rights of their female constituents. What other possible reason could they have had?  I will actively vote against this backward and trivial group of people, who are playing politics while women continue their age old struggles.

I will actively vote against pushing women back into the desperation of backyard abortion clinics and/or a return to homestyle gin/coathanger DIY abortions.  I will actively vote against removing rights we have, for which our female forebears fought a long and hard battle.

I will vote for President Obama because of course education is the future of the American economy.  Of course it is. Pushing for more teachers, better resources, and smaller classrooms is an investment in the next generation.

I will vote for President Obama because he is unlikely to lead us into world conflicts with an ill-chosen comment. His measured words and carefully considered actions and reactions on the world’s political stage are much less likely to endanger or embarrass us. Just in the past year, we have seen Governor Romney’s performance on that world stage.  I don’t think he’s a bad person, as such, but I have fears.  Insulting an ally is just embarrassing, but an ill-considered comment elsewhere could lead us into yet more conflict.  A careful and responsible president seems imperative in a volatile world. My money is firmly on President Obama.

He may not be a perfect president and, being human, mistakes are to be expected, but we, as a country, are coming back. Recovery is everywhere, in increased  job growth, in troops arriving home, in assembly lines producing American cars, in the reduction of foreclosures, month by month.  Possibilities are everywhere, in the potential for thousands of uninsured and underinsured Americans to be able to get medical treatment without fear of bankruptcy, to have screening tests that they’ve been putting off.  I will actively vote for “Obamacare.”  It may not be perfect, but the very idea of repealing it is repugnant. What is it with congressional republicans that they feel this need to stay where we are, wallowing in the status quo. The Affordable Care Act (Obamacare) is a mighty step forward, in an area that needed a mighty step forward.  It will undoubtedly have teething troubles, but I will give it a chance, willingly.  I will take that mighty step forward happily, and with confidence.

I will vote for a continuation of the direction we’re going, for compassion and decency for women, and for progress.

Even staunch and vocal Romney supporter, Chris Christie (R – NJ) sang the praises of our president yesterday, as they worked hand in hand for the needs of those who have suffered in the storm. Governor Christie has, rather surprisingly, shown the way. Put politics aside and look at the man.  Hatred and nonsensical partisan politics should have no real place in decision making.  I won’t spread the hatred by jumping on the insult bandwagon, but I’ll share what I like, and dislike, about two men, and their potential for improving America.

I will be voting for President Barack Obama on Tuesday. It will be my first vote in a general election since becoming a US citizen in 2010, and I am proud and honored to contribute my vote to this country that I love.  Remember how hard those who came before us fought for that right before you decide not to bother. Ignore the bullshit, as much as possible, and look at the facts. (There are web sites for that!!)  And remember, if you don’t vote, complaining about the outcome later is not the right thing to do!

Whatever direction your political opinion take you, let it take you to the polls next Tuesday.

Vote, vote, vote! 

Being patient

I am a busy person. It's true that I don't go out to work each day, but I still don't really do "down time" all that well. Normally I have a bunch of school work, somewhere to go, something that HAS to be painted, designed, sewn, written, read, crafted, knitted - well, you see how it is.  Or, rather, how it was.
They tell me I'll get back there - I'm trying to believe.
Meanwhile, there's always some crap on TV or a movie I've never bothered to see.  And the couches are reasonably comfortable, so perhaps I should be grateful for those small mercies.
And they do keep telling me I'll get back there...

Today was a good day, though. I finished up this painting of Jazzi looking sheepish!

And I did a quick painting of Tipsy curled up behind her tail and glaring at me with those evil eyes which so clearly say, "wtf was wrong with life without a second cat, anyway?"

And then I did this self-portrait, which is as yet untitled, but will probably be called something like - "Swamped by all the crazy."  LOL - Well, that's what I was feeling when I was throwing that color around, anyway.

Not the most artistically immaculate art I've ever created, but a bit of fun anyway. Exhausted - feel like I did waaaay more than I actually did today, so back on the couch with an early glass of wine and some cheese and crackers.  Now, where were we, Dr. Phil/Judge Judy/Family Guy/Presidential Debate!

Have a cool and colorful day, and remember that it's all about being patient.

At least - that's what they tell me.

the colors

There are wispy, bright white clouds up there today, in a sky that is a bright, summery blue, belying the distinct fall chill that wafts over me with every little puff of breeze. There is a silence here for now, at Great Meadows Campground, but it’s race weekend in Loudon, and before long, the avid race-goers will return and take up their temporary residence in tents and campers festooned with racing flags. I will enjoy the silence while it lasts.

Every so often, the angry chattering of busy chipmunks disturbs my peace, but I smile as I glance up to the top of the 60 foot pines, enchanted by their crazy antics and impressed by their agility.

I should be doing the homework load from hell that my professors have assigned this week, but instead I’m feeling the breeze, analyzing the exact amount of dioxazine purple I would have to add to pacific blue to make that sky color, and smiling at the chippies. And occasionally, I sent some good thoughts to a friend who's in labor as we speak, waiting to welcome her little autumn baby boy.  Every so often I tell myself off – girl, stop daydreaming and pick up that book. Start analyzing Native American literature, not sky colors. Get on with it!

Instead, my thoughts turn to apples – didn’t Rachel say she was going to make me a pie??  Hint, hint!!  And crisp fall leaves in their myriad of rampant color swirling around me. And bright yellow butternut squash and apple soup. And Halloween, pumpkin carving and new ideas I have for decorations.

Yes, fall is all about color, and while it brings the foreboding of the long, harsh winter, it is definitely to be celebrated, to be admired. Yes. I shall pull a blanket around me as I sit here at camp, and I shall revel in the colors.

I am fairly incapacitated today.  The vertigo I have suffered since the car accident ramped itself up into the red danger zone yesterday, and threw me down the basement stairs.  Nothing broken, thankfully, but I am a mass of color myself!  Nowhere near as pretty as the colors of fall, I might add! 

This day feels like the medicine I need. Calm, quiet and serene;  blue, white and cool.  

It’s a good day. A surprisingly good day.

Not Your Grampa's Camping!

I am lying in the recliner at Great Meadows Campground, Chichester, NH. We scurried into the camper a little earlier, as the one cloud above us opened up and bucketed rain down on our home away from home. It lasted only a few moments, and we hurried outside again, eager to revel in the serenity, to breathe in the intoxicating smell of the rain blending so perfectly with the scent from the multitude of pine trees that surround us. Mmm…smells like Aussie Christmas!

Jazz and Cleo are here with us, a little confused at the change of surroundings, but happily snoozing on the grassy patch nearby, and rushing, maddened, at scurrying chipmunks, only to be hauled up short by their own leashes. Turns out Jazz can get up a bit of speed over twenty-five feet, and is most indignant about the sudden stop at the end! And the chipmunk, pausing barely out of reach, chatters disrespectfully at her. I swear one of them flipped her off!

I gaze up through the tree branches, and look at the quickly moving clouds. I still find a little secret joy in seeing what is hidden in them. Even now, a puffy unicorn is galloping across the sky, before morphing into a long nosed mouse with enormous ears. A wizard, complete with Dumbledore’s magnificent beard, rolls across the sky, his kindly face gazing down at me.  It is so real that I send up a frantic wish,  and gaze at him long after he has transformed into a small, fluffy dog.  What becomes of my wish now?

There is a strong and elegant beauty in the sixty foot pines that surround us here, and I find myself gazing up constantly, admiring the height, the bareness of the first forty feet of trunk and the proliferation of pine needles near the top.  A chipmunk is chattering madly at the top of one of them now, and every so often a pine cone comes hurtling down and smashes into the ground nearby. Mike and I conjecture as to how much damage it could do if one of them bonked us on the head. After all, I say, didn’t I read somewhere that a penny thrown from the Eiffel tower could kill a person?? Ah well, says Mike, calmly. We’re fine then…money doesn’t grow on trees!!

And we laugh again, as we so often do, and go back to our own quiet pursuits. It is modern camping, this. We both love the traditional aspects of camping. The serenity of the great outdoors, the birdsong constantly surrounding us, even the angry chattering of the chipmunks. The evening campfire is our greatest joy, and Mike sure does know how to get a fire going! One evening, he left me in charge of it while he gathered up his fishing gear and wandered off to the pond for a half hour.  I spent the entire time desperately trying to save what had been a perfectly well established fire before he left, tossing in any number of dry leaves and pine cones to try to get it all riled up again, poking, prodding, and swearing at it under my breath. It was still burning feebly when he arrived back, but within minutes was roaring away ferociously. Cursing at it a little more volubly, I returned to my chair and left him to it. We must all admit our own shortcomings, and apparently, that is one of mine!  But I digress. . . Yes it is modern camping. Here I sit, immersed in all the glorious beauty of nature, with a laptop on my lap, brilliant wi-fi connecting me to the world outside, a cell phone with excellent service sits on the ground by my side, and my Nook is on the table, charging up for my evening reading session. Mike’s laptop is on the table, his cell phone never leaves his side and I think I saw his Ipod in his computer bag as well. Our camper is relatively luxurious, with couches and tables, a kitchen with a stove, a fridge, a microwave. It has a full bathroom, and a Queen size bed in the separate bedroom. It has full power throughout, is well screened. It has a TV, (which doesn’t work and we don’t care...{except if we're here on Thursdays, coz I mean, who misses Project Runway??!})  a full stereo system, and more cupboard space than I need! In what is proving to be a difficult summer, it is a true delight to be here, relaxing, recovering, renewing.

My medical instructions are to relax as much as possible, to allow the muscles in my shoulder, neck and back to heal without the stresses of everyday life. And my mother assures me that the body will heal itself quicker if I give in to the idea of passive healing and therapy, at least for now. So I sit quietly, I don’t use my left arm too much, I rest my head wherever it feels comfortable, I don’t use an over-arm stroke when I swim, and I wait and wait and wait for improvement. I go to physical therapy three times each week, and now I also go to acupuncture three times each week. The physical therapist has given up telling me how long she thinks it might all take, and my doctor says my neck muscles still feel like an iron bar, and my shoulders are still not sitting evenly. Each day starts with a headache, and a couple of times each week I forget how much I hate taking pills, and swallow a Valium to relax my muscles and mind and allow me a decent sleep.

It’s been a long summer.

But for now, I’m here in Camp Heaven, where the chipmunks are only pretending to be murderous – hopefully! Where the lichen on the trees look like a naughty child has splattered great globs of mossy green paint randomly over the trunks. Where the smell of fresh pine permeates the still humidity and reminds me of home. And where a frozen burger tossed on an outdoor grill can taste as succulent and wonderful as any filet mignon. Soon we will have a swim, and then we will light the fire and that wonderful campfire smell will waft around us, piney and fragrant. We will gaze up at the stars again, reminiscing gently, and we will plan the future with all the joy and optimism that this gorgeous place brings to us. Perhaps tonight we will toast marshmallows over the fire, reveling in the hot, gooey sweetness and trying to keep it at toasting, and trying to avoid the incineration!

And then we will check our emails, plug in all our technologies to charge overnight, and go to bed, counting our blessings here in our cozy little modern cabin in the woods.

It’s modern camping – and I love it!

ps....stung by a nasty black waspy looking thing just as I typed that last exclamation point. In true "terrified of bugs" Aussie style, I gathered up everything and rushed inside!  Now watching finger swell and feeling it pulsate uncomfortably while cursing the great outdoors! 

I hate camping...lol!!