Prescence

My mind has been full lately and is spilling out into the blogging realm, as is common for it to do.

I have been battling between two strong urges - first, to put down in words the difficult yet rewarding journey I have found myself on and second, to not sound like a complete crazy person. I'm hoping there is a balance to be struck... I've settled down nicely to accept that if I come across as a crazy person whilst trying to express something I have become passionate about, so be it.

It all began months ago while I was in Chapters with my oldest sister.. I am drawn to books like a moth to flame and although there isn't much spare moo-lah in our bank account these days, poor Dallin will attest to the fact that whenever I go to Chapters I never leave empty handed. I picked up a book, on a whim, called The Motivation Manifesto. Googling such will bring you to a site that seems... in this persons' opinion... cult-ish? No, that is harsh. And not appropriate. Let's go with... bizzare? Overdone? Fad-ish? Okay, I'm pretty sure that last one isn't actually a word. Give me a break here guys.

With all that said, I picked up the book knowing nothing of the trending or not-trending nature of the novel. I felt compelled to read it - which is no strange occurrence since most of the books on the shelf call out to me as I pass them by, urging me with sad, puppy dog-like in a shelter to "Take me home!" I did it indeed bring it home, and have not had, as The Simpsons have said, "..zee buyers' remorse.." It has become both beacon and linchpin for me in my quest for self improvement.

In a nutshell - and a quick nutshell at that - it outlines 9 'Manifestos' to center your life around. Each of them spoke to me and I have taken it upon myself to work through them, one at a time. No time frame, no schedule, just as it happens. Needless to say, I started 4 months ago and I just moved to Manifesto #2. Phew. Not for the faint of heart. Yet I am determined! "Look - gimme some inner peace or I'll mop the floor with ya!" But I can truly say that I feel improved - refreshed even - while I set these policies to heart.

So, without further ado, allow me to introduce you to Manifesto #1 :

'We shall meet life with full presence and power.'

Ahh, see, there's the connection to the post title. I had you wondering, I'm sure.

Being present. Fully present. This is something that society and I struggle with greatly.  Put your phone down from wherever you're reading this blog and look around you - how many people around you are fully present into whatever it is they're doing and how many are looking at a device? Now, back to your device to read this. Don't worry, the irony of that isn't lost on me...

Here is a list of my electronic transgressions: (Am I seeking penance, oh blogging world? No. Yes. Maybe??)

1. Filling my mind from sun up to sun down with truly useless electronic information. lolsnaps, facebook, youtube, pinterest, and a multitude of nonsense blogs are my poison of choice.

2. Watching my children do truly remarkable and adorable things through the lens of my camera.

3. Checking the clock to see when my son will be napping so I can watch the next episode of whatever I happen to be binge watching on Netflix at the time.

4. Multitasking, or, multitexting? Is that a thing? It's got a ring to it. I'm going with it. Multi-texting people while simultaneously cooking dinner, answering my daughters' questions, listening to talk radio and bouncing the baby on my hip.

5. Pinning, pinning, pinning. The never ending stream of pins coming from my pin-feed (again, don't even know if that's a thing...) is astonishing. They clamor from my pinterest boards but shockingly never grace my craft room with their presence...

6. My ability to find and regurgitate quote after quote of The Simpsons to nearly any scenario I find myself in. I believe there's already a couple in here... sigh... help me someone... please?

7. Getting the grandiose idea to have a cell phone basket at my dinner table from none other than, drum roll please, a show I watched during one of my aforementioned Netflix-binge watching-sessions. Hypocrisy, thy name is Nicole.

And those are just the juicy bits I feel comfortable sharing...

My goal these past few months has been to be present. Easy? Negative. It has been a work in progress but I've made gains... I think? 'I hope it doesn't sound arrogant when I say I am the greatest woman alive!' We've become a society of believing that being online is helping us to think more  but in actuality we are thinking less. Sure, we are shoving more into our brains at one particular time, but our retention of this material is most times shockingly low. And the quality of it is more often that not very poor. Or is that just me? 'Remember that time when... with that guy? Which was it? Oh no, that was that other thing... Ya know, I read somewhere that.... I don't remember who said it but...." Does anyone else find themselves saying things like that? Unless it's the Simpsons. Then I think I've already established that I'm a pro.

It's actually really difficult! But I find myself relishing moments that would otherwise pass me by. Small, innocuous things that may not seem like much to others. Hell, they didn't seem like much to me until I decided to stop running amuck in life with phone or ipad or t.v. or computer glued to my eyeballs. In them I've found true joy. I've learned things. I've found that when Eva focuses really hard on some new concept I'm teaching her about, her right eye wanders slightly to the right. Dallin crosses his toes when he is really comfortable - weirdo. (He's probably going to hate me for that...) Remy makes the most ridiculous strains and lunges with his mouth as I'm getting ready to nurse him. My neighbor down the street is the sweetest soul who takes too much upon her shoulders. Eva is crying out for more friends whilst I am content to be a homebody. All of these things may have passed me by had I not been present to notice them.

Too much sensory electronic information can dull our abilities to use our other faculties - empathy. Sympathy. Prudence. Tact. You can see it all around if you begin to look for it. In the harshly worded facebook comment or post someone puts up in frustration. In the smiling discrimination that is everywhere. In our repetition of the mantra, 'It's okay' when it's really not. Alternatively, in our inability to give the benefit of the doubt to those who truly deserve it.

Now, when I'm texting, I'm TEXTING. Only. Poor Eva. She is still getting used to the whole idea that she now has to wait to talk to me while I send a text - poor, depraved girl. When I'm playing with Eva or Remy, I'm with them. 100%. When I'm on the phone, I'm ON THE PHONE. For any of you that try to reach me on the phone and I NEVER seem to answer, this is why. I want to give you my full attention. If I can't do that, I let it go to voicemail. Now, if there's just a manifesto somewhere in there about calling people back...

On Motherhood

Aah, to return to the blogging realm. This used to be my one and only safe place, my haven, my respite from any and all difficulty that I was facing. Words have always been an outlet of expression for me - thoughts and feelings ballooning in the mind as they often do. Now, I find myself scrounging for spare time in between laundry, dishes, nap times and children crying listlessly -either in desperate pleas of "Moooooommy" or "Waaaaaaah!" they still resonate with one or all of the following messages:

1. You're starving me. I'm hungry.
2. I'm dirty. Clean me. Why haven't you cleaned me?
3. I'm tired; but will protest violently if you suggest quiet time or lie me down for a nap.
4. You're not looking at me. Entertain me.
5. You're still not looking at me.

I'm a new mom! Perhaps you can tell. Perhaps while seeing me, even without one of my two (two - such a small number for how much work they are!) children, you will be able to tell this fact. New moms are everywhere. Can you see it in the bags under our eyes, as we go about our day functioning on a mere handful hours sleep? Can you smell it on our clothes - in either fashionable garb in attempts to still be such or sweatpants in a sort of ragged defeat - the faint smell of sour milk, diapers, ointment? Can you feel it in our touch, as we constantly pat, tap and console inanimate objects as though we are always hearing faint wailing of children? Can you hear it in the desperate way we converse with another human being - wanting so badly to just be able to talk to some other grown human who has more coming out of their mouth than spit up or whining? We are new moms. It is our joy, it is our woe.

The words remain and plague me; tossing about my head like so much tumbling laundry that I should be attending to even now. Even now, as I dart back and forth from the computer to my son's bedroom where he naps restlessly, wrapping and calming him with such delicate hands one might think I was disarming a bomb.... Even now, hollering out to the pup who is locked in his crate (the only place I can keep him where my socks and shoes and chairs and scraps of coloring pages and food and grocery bags and children's toys and anything but his designated chew toys are safe from his incessant chewing) to "Hush!" and then back to Remington's crib fervently gasping, "Hush!" oh, wait, whoops, wrong phrase, wrong baby... Even now, feeling guilt as the clock tick tick ticks more and more minutes still of my daughter glued to the iPad when I should be stimulating her in some other, productive, mindful way.... Even through that all here I sit, aside me is my mug of London Fog tea  (my secret indulgence) once steaming hot and now gone tepid, tapping away endlessly at the keyboard.

Mothers naturally feel enormous amounts of inadequacy. Whether we are comparing ourselves to our surrounding friends, the endless chorus of voices on Facebook, the tiring to-do lists of home life, the relentless urge to Pin every last perfectly poised craft with finesse and ease - we take far too much upon ourselves. And when we are stretched to our very last we are horrified to find that we, like the common elastic band, snap. Either we break in two, strung out beyond repair or we recoil, hurting those in our wake.

Which is why I believe that whatever your indulgence is, whatever your 'me' time is where you steal away to enjoy your other identity besides the all consuming title of MOM - don't let it slip away. You are mother first, yes, then wife/partner and friend and sister and a host of many other titles and responsibilities, but you are also you. You need to remember her, whoever she is and allow her a little time in the spotlight else she turn angry and bitter and rear her jealous head. (Poor Dallin will attest to that!) Days when the silliest of slights causes a Medusa-like demon to rise up and take our poor bodies host to her indignation.

This is normal. Right? Right. Yes, yes it is. Normal....

The truth that I have come to learn is that enduring motherhood is a trying and enlightening experience that never ends. We may yearn for the days when the kids are at school, napping, on a play date, gone to their grandparents for the weekend or whatever it may be - but motherhood never really ends. We will still be tidying their toys, thinking of them, worrying about them, gazing at their pictures and smiling, missing them in some way even while at the same time celebrating their absence. We are mothers now and forever. That is beautiful and suffocating at the same time. Revel in that. Accept it.

There is something horribly perfect about another human being needing you so literally to survive. Literally. Not like, "OMG, you literally scared me to death!" More as in literally this humans' life would cease to exist without its mother. This truth is beautiful in its' duality - it can both terrify yet calm you, enlighten yet depress you, bolster yet dishearten you, suffocate yet free you. Moms - what a job we hold! What a task. What a goal that we hold in our arms each day and night, kissing its boo boos, calming its fears, ceasing its tears, enduring its whines, enjoying its bright moments. The importance of this job would seem, to most, unparalleled in its importance. We should be proud and hold our heads high at the job we set out to do, every non-ending second of every non-ending minute of our lives.

If you believe that truth, then why NOT give you some time to be you? Sure, there will always be a long list of things to do for your family, but that list will always BE, will it not? So let it sit, trust me, it's not going anywhere. You're children will not blame you for 30 minutes away from them (or, if they do, they'll most likely forget... Celebrate the fickle nature of children for once!) and you will feel better for it. Do something for HER. Not something for others, as we so selflessly do time and time again. Something truly for HER. Let her come out. Let her hair hang down. Dance with her. Sing with her. Craft with her. Snack with her. Let her lead. She'll be glad you did.

And I'll continue to write with her.

Luck?

I'm finding words hard tonight. This is not the norm for me. Not knowing where to begin, I'll let some photos help set the stage.

 

Photo #1: This is my Dallin tonight...

 

 

Photo #2: This is a new addition to my fridge...

 

 

Photo #3: Here's yet another picture to help depict what Eva was going for in the previous drawing...

 

 

There's a deep story at play here. One that the curtain may not fall on for quite sometime. It began long ago, nearly 2 years by my staggering realization, and it is still in play. Its' characters are still weaving an intricate dance and song that is, ironically and hilariously, unscripted.

 

Setting the stage: take one single mom with oodles of baggage and her achingly mature daughter. Add a dashing, bear-ish, previously homeless mountain man. Combine them all with a surprise bear cub, a new puppy and a 5 bedroom home in a new town. Challenge them to become instantaneous family! Challenge accepted? Great. Aaaaaand there's our story.

 

Believe you me, we are definitely making this one up as we go along.

 

A lot of the time, things go well. Stupidly well. Amazingly well. Other times, there is a conflict raging in this house with each character vying viciously for center stage. As you can tell in photo #2, one mature daughter at times can be sweet and thoughtful to her new Daddy - given that she is as new to being a daughter to him as he is a father to her. Other times, not so much. I sit on the sidelines and I watch, my hands and mouth tied - sometimes by will and sometimes not.

 

Most times I am in awe of the impossibility of the task I have placed upon Dallin's shoulders.

 

Scratch that - -

 

Most times I am in awe of the impossibility of the task Dallin has taken on.

 

Dallin is no doubt nodding in appreciation to that particular edit.

 

Becoming a dad is a hard journey. One that should start the moment the doctor places that screaming infant in your arms, bloody and quivering from its' complex spiral into living, and doesn't end far past and beyond all of the 'firsts'; first smile, first crawl, first steps, first words, first day of school, first day of college.... Throughout this journey a foundation is forged that is intangible and unconquerable.  Dallin and Remington have begun that journey together and it is nothing short of glorious to witness. They have a natural rhythm to the dance that is, and will be, their relationship, even in these early months. I have not been lucky enough to witness this magnificent yet nondescript passage that Father and Child embark upon. With Eva's fathers' absence at such a young age, this bond that Remy and Dallin are in the process of creating is a foreign and beautiful thing to me - as magical and illusory as having a pair of unicorns in my midst.

 

Now, imagine the attempt of forging this same bond with a child smack dab in the middle of  their most impressionable years.

 

I overheard a conversation the two of them shared today and felt as though I snuck into a sweet secrecy between them. I hold it close to my heart, along with my hope for the future. Their precious words gave a glimmer - no, more than a glimmer, a beam! - of hope in an otherwise scene mired in despair.

 

Dallin: " Eva, sometimes we have a hard time listening to each other, don't we?"

Eva: "Yeah.... I'm sorry, Daddy."

Dallin: "It's okay, but maybe we should have a word that we can say when we feel the other person isn't listening?"

Eva: "I don't know... like what?"

Dallin: "Like... Mario cart. Or pickles."

Eva, giggles: "Yeah! Pickles."

Dallin: "Okay, pickles? Okay. So if I don't feel like you're hearing me, or if you don't feel like I'm hearing you, we can say pickles and that means the other person needs to remember to listen."

Eva: "Okay, Daddy."

 

That beam of hope became white hot and searing in my heart and I was filled with love for these two!

 

Not wishing to put words into Dallin's mouth, as I shouldn't speak too much of the difficulty that he is facing. I mean only to express the appreciation and utter marvel I feel flood over me when I watch Dallin and all that he does. He does everything so HARD. He works hard. Plays hard. Teases hard. Lives hard. Loves hard. With Father's Day on the brink, I feel compelled to express just how incredible his every act is. I am proud to be his partner, proud that he has taken on all of this (whatever this really IS, exactly).

 

I have felt my heart expand exponentially in ways I didn't think possible. This patched together family is an inconceivable enchantment that I cherish.

 

Which brings me to the title of this post. Luck? Has it all been luck? Am I simply 'lucky' to have magically found a 21-year old man, after years of searching who is the missing piece of my soul, whom in which I find my greatest friend, my closest partner and my deepest confidant? I can't believe that. The years between us alone laugh in the face of luck. How is it that he was molded to take this - all of this! - on? What served him as experience in his short years? What keeps him from throwing up his hands, exasperated and drained, and giving up? Grown men have done the same - my childs' own father has done the same!

 

I don't know that I believe in luck.

 

Yet, I don't know that I believe in fate.

 

What I do know is this - I feel inadequate to enjoy the life that I do with the dear souls that surround me in the form of my daughter, my son, and nearly most of all, my dear Dallin.

 

 



The Sound of Crickets...

The sound of crickets will be silenced!

The blog will rise up once more!

This time, I have a few more sweeties to add to the mix... As if the precious Eva Peeva wasn't enough already.

Crucial updates are as follows....Baby bear should be coming any week now, I'm nearly done work, we have finally unpacked the last box in our new house... life is moving along.

Stay tuned!

Aug-September 2013

The Pictorial Version

 Robot Eva.

 Wow, is this seriously a pic from Eva's birthday? Has it been that long. Sad.

This is where Le Maestro chose to go for her b-day dinner - Firestone.

And yes, it was only because of the 'itty bitty tiny toilet'

 Easter with the fams.

 My April Fools Day joke on Eva... she thought it was hilarious!

Meg and I pulled the same thing on her kids... her teenage boy was less than happy...

 My Mother's Day manicure with Eva.

 Eva was tickled pink when her leftover ice cream from Denny's was placed in a coffee to-go cup.

Hilarity.

 Eva's chef hat and spatula. Yes, this is one of those elastic bowl covers... I couldn't convince her otherwise!

 The late Miss Vanellope. R.I.P.

 Eva the Minion!

 Eva and 'Daisy' - her new violin.

 Canada Day, in Waterton, with a caterpillar friend.

To Go Out of Comission, Or To Not Go Out of Commission

It’s been a little dead around here lately and, since not from lack of events on the home front, I have lots to blog about. Le Maestro, as I have been habitually referring to Miss E in the web-world, has been growing like a weed. Here’s some fun facts from our family to yours to keep you caught up to speed:

·         The Buddha Belly is all but disappearing. This is, indeed, a very sad state of affairs. To those of whom are not familiar with Buddha Belly, this is the name we have lovingly given Le Maestro’s heaving, chubby, blissful belly that is so frequently on display. Whether it’s spilling over stretchy pants or being patted after a hefty meal, Buddha Belly has graced our home throughout Le Maestro’s toddler years. It is a sad farewell that we give to Buddha Belly, since Le Maestro is in the bad habit lately of growing taller every day. She insists that Buddha Belly has gone, but will always remain in her hearts, and her belly should heretoforewith be referred to as ‘Raspberry Belly’. We are not entirely sure as to the logic behind the name, but her decision on the matter was final.

·         Le Maestro has begun to foster, what we hope, is a long and lasting relationship with her violin. She has lovingly dubbed it ‘Daisy’ (from Super Mario Bros., of course) and she seems to be quite a natural at it. Of course I would say that given that I am highly biased, but her teacher (through want of money or truth is unclear) seems to agree with me. Her first song composed is called, ‘Eva is sweetie’. It was a joint effort – I wrote the lyrics and Le Maestro composed the tune. She also has been learning the piano quite efficiently and quickly. I am so proud of the rate in which she retains new information, and this is evidenced by how quickly she eats up my lessons – almost as fast as I can feed them to her.

·         Le Maestro has become an advocate for caterpillar and worm rights in our backyard – and birds are her arch nemesis.  Before finding out that aforementioned birds were going to eat up all my seedlings before they had a chance to sprout, Maestro and I spent a lot of time in the backyard digging up earth and pulling weeds. She became enthralled with wormy and caterpillar friends and set out to make homes for them in just the right spots in the dirt. Sadly, she witnessed one of the birds pluck a wormy friend straight out of the grass and gobble it up. Needless to say, Le Maestro dislikes birds and chases them away with violent ‘Shoo’s! as quickly as she can.

·         We bought Le Maestro her first pet the other day. After deciding that our first idea for a pet, a turtle, would be a poor choice since we hardly can expect Eva to take her still-live turtle with her to college in 15 years, we bought a beta fish. The fishie was promptly named Vanellope (from Wreck It Ralph, of course) and I all-too-quickly ‘put it out of commission’. Don’t tell Le Maestro, but temperature shock is actually a real thing and will kill your beta fish. Seriously, do you research before you just go and pull the dump the ol’ fish inside the bowl trick. We buried Vanellope in the back yard and had a nice ceremony for her. She’s been replaced with a sturdier fish who goes by the name of Fix It Felix (again, Wreck It Ralph).

·         Choice FB statuses worth mentioning:

o    I told Le Maestro that mommy was feeling sick and sore tonight (head cold + amazing 5 hour horse back ride + nasty sunburn) and asked who would take care of me since The Mad Scientist isnt home.
She raises her hand in the air and says "I will take care of you, mommy."
She then disappears into the kitchen and calls me in a few minutes later for dinner. I love every single item she thoughtfully placed on the kitchen floor for us.
Nothing says I love you like a picnic on our kitchen floor, complete with cottage cheese, grape tomatoes, cheese strings, Breton crackers while slathering aloe Vera on my burnt shoulders and watching My Little Pony.
Life is grand. June 28

o    Eva, in robot voice: "I am a robot. I am from Texas."
Me: "Texas? Why Texas?"
Eva, still in robot voice: "All robots are from Texas. That's where the cowboys are."
Well that just raises further questions..... June 25

o    Discussion with Le Maestro tonight:
Me: Eva, can you do something for me?
Eva: sure!
Me: Can you stop growing?
Eva: Oh. Wellll... I'm sorry, Mommy. It isn't me. It's the days that do this. That's just the way the earth works.
Me: What if I somehow stopped the days from passing? Would you stop then?
Eva: Uhhh, Mom. That's silly. It can't be done like that.
Eva thinks for a minute...
Well, that's not really true. If you were a genie you could. Mom, are you a genie?
Me: Sadly,no. I'm not.
Eva: Then I MUST keep growing. I MUST. June 20

o    Tucking the maestro in tonight...
Me: "There. Now you're all snug. Like a caterpillar in a cocoon."
Eva: "No, I'm not. Caterpillars don't stick their heads out of cocoons, and my head is stuck out. They just have a tip on top. And they hang. I'm not hanging. I'm not anything like a caterpillar in a cocoon."
Well geez, if you wanna get technical... June 5

o    Despite my attempts at teaching Miss E French, she appears to enjoy speaking in Urdu (except to her, its gibberish) more.
Eva: me ha so pee la!
Me: don't speak gibberish.
Eva, rolling her eyes: its Urdu, mom.
What's worse, the mad scientist only urges her on by conversing back with her, since it is his native tongue. I haven't decided if its cute or disrespectful... But it is pretty adorable hearing them jammer away back and forth! February 21

o    While at a drive thru tonight...
Eva: Mom, what does the 24 mean?
Me: it means they are open 24 hours. That's all day.
Eva: what?? They don't sleep?!
Me: nope.
Eva: whooooaa... They just work and work and work but then they might be really sleepy and ask where's all the beds? I don't know. Oh no, what do we do? But then they could make beds out of bread. Because bread is very soft. And then they make it up and up and up and then Santa comes down and gives them aaaallll... Wait. I mixed that up. What was I saying? January 25

o    Eva: Mom, what do zombies eat?
Me: Uhhhh....
Eva: It's poop, right? Zombies eat poop?
Me: Eva, that's disgusting.
Eva: Well, what is it then?
I hesitate, not sure of how to answer.
Eva: Is it mangoes?
Me: Yes. Yes, it is.
Eva: Oooooooohhh, that's TERRIBLE!
Heck yes, the worst thing this kid can think of to eat is mangoes. December 7

And that should put you back up to speed! Regular blog posts are, once again, my middle-of-the-year resolution, so check back frequently!