CousCous

We have moved on to Cous Cous. Cous Cous is, of course, Blue's Clues, in Benjamin speak. Both boys adore Steve. They aren't crazy about the other guy who replaced him. Since we got rid of cable this month, we won't be subjected to Steve replacements. The tv schedule is a little better. I turn it on in the morning so I can get my coffee and see what's up in the world.  The shows only play one at a time on our Netflix, so eventually when the boys have lost interest in the middle of the second one, the tv stays off for the rest of the morning. Benjamin has replaced the tv with his LeapPad...but he's learning stuff, so that's okay. We also end up outside in the glorious spring weather so I can water my little wildflower shoots. Unless its horrible and windy, which its been a lot recently. Then I pull out playdoh or put on Thomas, depending on how dark my mood has turned.

After waging battle after battle with Peter over where he spends his nighttime sleeping hours, winning the fight for a few nights, losing some ground with illness...we have lost the war. Yes, I admit defeat. I surrender. Apparently Peter's teething experience is so excruciating that even ibuprofen isn't working to alleviate it. The only analgesic that is effective? Mama's arms. Better yet, Mama's arms surrounded by Mama's cozy bed. I can't really blame him. Greg and I invested in a new mattress this winter, and it is THE most comfortable spot in the house. Peter's mattress purchase was less thought out...our research consisted of staring at the selection at Target and picking out the cheapest one. Sold. I have regretted that decision since Peter got a little bigger. Its really not so much a mattress as a fabric covered, thick cot. We discovered that by padding the bed with a towel under the sheet and one of the beautiful baby quilts on top for him to lie on top of, we can get a good 2-3 hour nap out of him. But it doesn't hold up all night.

Its looks like this that keep him alive.

I truly have no idea if that's the reason he won't stay in his bed. I read that somewhere and it sounded good. Especially since it could add to my mommy guilt list.  I cheaped out on his mattress. Let the internal maternal flogging begin!

In other news, and perhaps most importantly, my darling new nephew was born!!! Rory Higgins made his appearance on April 22nd after 14 hours of labor and about 20 minutes of pushing. Apparently my pint-sized sister is a hoss in disguise. Further proving how rare (read:recessive) our genepool is, Rory's father clearly won this match-up. He's just gorgeous regardless! I am one proud aunt!

Hi, little lovie, sweet baby nephew boy!!  Auntie loves you!!

Can't wait to kiss his little face!

Also went and procured the anti-depressants I so desperately wanted a few months ago. Peter and I are completely done nursing, and I have had increasingly wide mood swings, and increasingly paranoid thoughts. Here's hoping the meds help not hurt! I've taken bigger risks, the good Lord knows. The only other thing I can say is now, after listening to Peter's screaming for 25 minutes, the house is finally quiet and I am to bed. Well, I am to watching Don Draper be hot on Mad Men. Same dif.

Happiness is...

I am certain I have everything I need. Is that the cause of the malaise? The frantic need to paint furniture, sew pillows, move cabinetry? I am unable to live in contentment. I am unable to accept my own happiness. I am sabotaging it, actually, in this very moment. I know, mentally, that my hormones are out of whack and making me crazy. But the knowledge doesn't stop the crazy. Every few minutes something pisses me off. I am walking around, trying to do the things that soothe me and trying to help my husband and be supportive and open and BAM. something pisses me off, I have to walk away or I will go postal on someones ass. Add to that the fatigue. I am so tired. so so so tired. My home is in shambles, and I don't have the energy to make it better. I took a two hour nap today with a sweet, snuggly Benjamin, and I still don't have the energy to get into the kitchen and finish the dishes. My husband is consistently wonderful and patient with me- although I was skirting the edge of that patience today, that's for sure- but I continue to just get pissed off.

I wish to cultivate gratitude. So I am peering through the foggy mess my hormones have left my brain, and I am focusing on those positive things I can see in the distance. My upcoming travels to see family. My husband who retains his sense of humor and aims it at the black cloud I am toting around. My Benjamin who is SO EXCITED about communicating he does it constantly, and the results are delightful. My Peter who approaches his play and discovery time like an extreme sport, uber focused and committed. I am constantly afraid my crappy attitude is going to negatively affect them for life, or ruin my marriage (which will negatively affect them for life)

And that's the problem right there: Another side effect of all this hormonal crazy is the judgement ticker tape running through my head. I am judging others' decisions and lifestyle. I am judging myself constantly. I vaguely remember a time in my life when I didn't do that. I was gentle with myself. I said 'live and let live' to others. Man, that was a happy time in my life. I know that I can't return there completely- becoming a parent means I have to make 'judgment' calls daily, and there's no getting around weighing the pros and cons and deciding what I think is better. I wish to let go of this need to run other people's lives in my head, however. Or to judge too harshly what I am doing or not doing. What a waste of energy! Yes, I ate that icing for dinner. I had a salad for lunch. Balance is everything. 

My resolution is to cultivate gratitude by catching myself ticker taping-running judgmental narratives through my head, or judging myself too harshly in matters of weight, parenting, productivity- and when I catch the ticker tape, stop it by focusing on things I wish to be grateful for. I am going to do this until it becomes a habit. I warn you: I may become obnoxious with gratitude. Please don't judge me too harshly. 

Happiness is...in no particular order....healthy children, great books and discovering new authors, clean carpets, new furniture finishing projects, one more week of radiation treatment for baby sister and cancer is gone, gone, gone; kisses from 2year olds and 10 month olds, sleeping in with said children, a husband who gleefully finishes a project involving many wires and technology; all the friends and family who came out to celebrate Greg's 30th year of life on Saturday evening. These are the things I am grateful for this evening.

Is Winter over yet?

Oh, man, we have had a rough winter. Good times abounded, sure. Peter learned to crawl and giggle and say 'finished' in sign language, Benjamin learned to talk in sentences and play pretend and be sneaky (He actually pretended to play with his Leapfrog Computer while all the time he HAD MY PHONE, was concealing behind the screen. Stink). Greg and I learned we are stronger partners than we knew possible, weathering illness after illness after illness. Winter didn't start last October, but that's when the corner was turned and a series of events followed that added up to, if not the most emotionally draining winter of my life, a close second. I beat down feelings of guilt over what we did to Peter's first year of life daily. We opened a daycare so that I could bring in money while still staying home with the boys. It didn't work out the way we had hoped. The boys have been sick almost constantly. I didn't make very much money because we kept having to cancel due to one of them running a fever or I was up all night with them due to puking or whatever. I have been exhausted and depressed, and Peter, poor Peter. He's just a baby who wanted his mommy, and I was constantly putting him down so that I could change someone else's poopy diaper or wipe someone else's nose or feed someone else lunch. I think I would still be nursing right now instead of having weaned him last week totally because I was so, so exhausted and it was so hard to nurse while I was chasing other toddlers.  Not to mention my emotional unavailability at times because of the depression I was beating down every day. And Peter's fifty one different illnesses his brother avoided somehow during his first year. It was not an optimal situation. And it didn't even make money.

We are regrouping now. Greg has taken a second job and to his relief I finally agreed to close the daycare. The boys and I are learning together what life looks like with the three of us on most days. There's a happy rhythm, if not completely established, then we're working on it. We miss Greg terribly. Greg and I take comfort in the fact that its not forever, just until some debt is beaten down.

In the longstanding 'mommy wars' I have been on both sides now. Let me tell you something. Cleaning up multiple diarrhea disasters while containing a 2 year old hell bent on not taking his nap, when said 2 year old starts pulling out drawers and throwing heirloom cups into his sleeping brother's crib...that's hard shit right there, no pun intended. It ain't for the fainthearted. The isolation is no joke, either. I am not alone but completely alone all day long, especially when they are sick. That said...hats off to the mommas who go to work every day. I did that, too, and it was heartwrenchingly impossible. My head was always at work when I was home, my heart was always at home when I was working. My husband was bewildered and stressed over the cranky babies while mommy was gone, and the cranky mommy when she was home.

There's no easy way to raise babies, and that's the long and short of it. Meanwhile, I will exercise my brain with this blog and reading. I will speak to my friends daily. I will NOT spend too much time on Pinterest or mom-blogs (which I guess this is? I think of it as my surviving with depression/being broke/ I need an outlet for all of these bazillion THOUGHTS blog) because mom-blogs somehow end up making me feel inadequate, with a few exceptions.

I will remember, as I told a wonderful mom-friend of mine recently, that I am the parent God intended my boys to have. That as long as I SHOW UP and follow my instincts, I am a good mother. I am a great mother. I am the best damn mother my children could possibly have.

 That said...I am fairly certain nobody else's kids watch as much tv as mine. sigh.

a little dream therapy

This post is going to be a departure from my other posts. I have a post all laid out tracking some of the funny things Peter has been doing lately, but there is SO MUCH going on around here, and I am using this blog to process. So this morning, you, dear reader, get to read about my dreams last night. Don't groan, please stick with me, because I have already written the post and I am satisfied and a little surprised- this dream writing exercise carried with it a lesson my subconscious has been trying to hammer me with, and I now finally just got it.

I have been dreaming about houses lately. Two-story, elaborate houses with turrets and things I need to look up the name of, architectural features; and also one story, simply laid out houses. Almost all with hardwood floors, almost all associated with someone or an event.I guess that isn't surprising- I spend a lot of time in my own house, taking apart its features, planning changes, decorating, deciding to love something as it is.

The two story, rambling homes, loosely based on our home in VA (we didn't have turrets, of course) In my dream this house was only seen from the back, alongside its neighbors at the odd angles they build on near the creeks there.  I don't remember much from the dream, just talking to someone about my memories of living in the house. You could catch crawfish in the creeks there, although I only remember doing that once with my sisters and some friends. We weren't super outdoorsy. I did ride my bike along and thru the dry beds one summer for hours. It was terrible fun. Unfortunately, the hard riding did my bike in. One day I was riding it home from a friend's, standing on the pedals to get up the last steep hill before my house, and the whole frame came apart. My dad took it to the bike shop and the owner asked 'wow, is the rider okay?' They'd never seen that much damage on a bike that wasn't hit by a car. Then my sweet grandpa and sweet father put my handlebars on an old bike we had that was sturdy and good, but it wasn't the same as my shiny, red, comfortable, familiar, beautiful bike, and I never rode it. It just didn't feel right. The seat was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, the body of the bike blue and rusty in places. I wanted to ride it, to please my dad and grandpa. But it didn't feel right. I was still at an age when I wouldn't do things just to please other people. My parents didn't like that much- it was the cause of many fights- but its a trait I wish I had held onto as I grew into my teens and then my twenties. I could have saved myself a lot of heartache.

I moved onto other places in my dreams last night, always noticing the houses, angles and windows and light. The dream this morning ended with an odd little duplex. It wasn't odd in itself, it was quite beautiful, all piney wood and quirky southwest charm. What was odd was that my friend lived in one side, and her ex-husband in the other. So I was having tea with my friend, perfectly happy and enjoying the way the sun came in on her dining room table, as she and her mom bustled around the kitchen, preparing salads probably, and the conversation was relaxed and happy and peppered with laughter. I felt a real longing. Its been a long time since I sat in her kitchen with her and her mom, just enjoying the conversation and company. Completely relaxed. Then for some reason known in the dream, but unknown once waking amnesia sets in, I went to the other side. It seems I was collecting some things, my arms were full the whole time. At one point I sat down on the ex-husband's leather couch, I was meant to watch a movie, but he wouldn't stop talking to me. He was leering, as he used to do, and smug and knew of course everything about which he was speaking of. What strikes me now is how those were definitely characteristics of this person- but so too of many men I've known throughout the years, all whom are (thank our better sense) left behind by us women who moved on to find better and gentler, kinder, more self-satisfied men. At any rate I was very ill at ease the entire time I was there. I wanted to leave and return to the other side of the house, the duplex. But I had grown out of the age when I worried more about what I wanted and less what others wanted. He clearly wanted me to stay. So I stayed. And then my alarm clock went off and here I am.

I hope that if my alarm clock hadn't woken me up I would have stood up and walked out after a polite goodbye. I hope I would have returned to drinking tea with my friends. I hope my subconscious knows what my thirties have brought me- the ability to get up and walk out of any situation I don't like and walk back into the places and arms where I am valued and cherished.

The blink of an eye

Just planted some wildflowers in the backyard!  Woo hoo!  Let me tell you why wildflowers. I think they are the perfect first plants for a gardening novice. They take care of themselves after you've nurtured the seedlings. They are beautiful. Putting them to bed for the winter is simple (mow, leave for mulch, boom, done.)

During my gardening adventures today, Benjamin proved curious and helpful. He held the watering can and directed it over the dirt while I prepped the ground, getting us both wet. He sunk his little hands into the mud when I turned the soil over. He helped me spread the wildflower seed by a method new to me (grab and dump, grab and dump, always in the same spot) but hey, I'm new to gardening, too. Then we stomped on the little seeds together, repeating 'step step step, stomp stomp stomp'. Lastly, he helped me put my tools away by grabbing the soil and throwing it. We both left our muddy shoes on the porch and came in and sang our ABC's while we washed our hands. It was a perfect gardening session.

The other thing Benjamin is pretty new at is potty training. We are just introducing the concept, letting him get used to all the equipment. For a couple of weeks, he liked to sit on his potty seat on the 'big potty' pantsless, and just hang out. I brought a stool in there to sit on so I could hang out with him, but of course other things distracted me so I ended up leaving him a couple of times. Both times I forgot to move the toilet paper rolls...so each time there was close to a whole roll in the toilet by the time I came back in. At least he knows where it goes. He'd shoved so much in, it was up to his bum. I will let you imagine the clean up.


Caught sight of the little boy Benjamin is becoming while I put him to bed last night. He was hugging and affectionate and telling me he 'wuv you too' and very toddler like- but his face, in the shadows of the twilight in his bedroom, seemed much older. I had a glimpse of the future. It made me sad and excited and proud all at the same time. So of course tears bubbled up and I had to choke a little emotional eruption. He didn't notice.

Triangle of Love

We've had peaks at the sun these last 10 days, only to have the outdoors snatched away again by that high desert wind. ugh!!  I read a few years ago in some hippie dippy magazine that, even though the spring may bring new high temps in the 60's and 70's, keep yourself wrapped warmly in long sleeves, pants, socks and wrap sweaters. Its great advice. Its tempting to dig out the flip-flops and skirts and shorts for the boys but the wind is FREEZING cold. It crops up every day in the afternoon, making it important to get dressed right away in the morning so I can get outside and work on my new box garden. Which is of course why I've been in my bathrobe every day I haven't had daycare kids here and my box garden continues to look like this:

Please notice the box garden pieces are still in the box. The rocks are partially moved, which is the only progress I have made in the 8 days since I bought it. sigh.

This week I re-committed to Weight Watchers. I don't think I've mentioned that I"m on Weight Watchers. Its pretty cool, I've lost 7 lbs, but the last four weeks I only lost 1 pound, I guess because you have to actually follow the points and stick to the plan in order for it to work. Whatever. Guess i'll stop making cheesy green chile enchiladas and ravioli lasagna and roast more vegetables. Yawn. The other way I re-committed (besides accepting the points as a valid way to track my food intake) is by entering a challenge to make yoga 8-15 points per weeks worth of activity points. I love love love yoga. I have been unable to do it since getting pregnant with Peter, and if I'm honest its been almost 3 years since I practiced with any regularity. My physical therapist gave me pointers on doing the yoga without hurting myself...she didn't mention others...so after I went through my PT exercises yesterday I pulled out my sticky pink mat and got down to a sloooowwww sun salutation. Have you ever tried yoga while keeping a neutral spine? Its like using a bendy straw and constantly reminding yourself not to bend the straw. Difficult and almost pointless...you can still drink out of a bendy straw thats unbent, its just really not as much fun. But it left me winded, so I think it was worth it. My favorite part of doing yoga was pushing Ben off the mat every 2 minutes and telling him Mommy was doing yoga, please don't jump on Mommy or her mat. His eyes lit up and he went careening into the kitchen yelling 'GAY-GURT!!  GAY-GURT!!' which is his toddler word for yogurt. Hilarious enough, but he did it EVERY TIME. Love this kid's optimism. Every time I said 'We don't have yogurt, honey, mommy is doing YOGA' he would run into the kitchen 'GAY-GURT! GAY-GURT!'. 'Please don't roll on mommy's mat, she's trying to do yoga' 'GAY-GURT! GAY-GURT!' so I started saying it just to get him out of my way.

I will leave you with the following series of pictures because I believe they illustrate perfectly the ongoing dynamic between Benjamin, Peter, and myself. The triangle of love, if you will. I don't have any pics of me disciplining Benjamin for hurting his brother deliberately, but if I did they would further the triangle of love by showing how after being disciplined, Benjamin wants lots of hugs and kisses and reassurances. We may be entering co-dependent behavior, but since I am becoming a proponent of Minimalist Parenting, I ain't gonna worry about it. I pay for my own therapy, they can, too, when they are all growed up and realize all the ways I messed them up.

It started with them sweetly watching Cars 2 together for a few moments, which is why I started taking the pictures. 

Don't sit on your brother don't sit on your brother don't sit on your brother! If you look closely you can see the grin as he considers his options.

P.S. I didn't mean to imply I disciplined B after this particular close call. No harm, no foul.

Emphasis

wow I am right back where i started a week ago, contemplating calling my doctor to get some antidepressants so I don't feel like this anymore. What this is, is ungrateful, crabby, anxious, angry, jealous, competitive, numb then not-numb but the aforementioned emotions all again and all at once, covetous, ugly, slothful, then abused and why is there so much to do and why do I have to do all of it. And what is my life about? What kind of positive change am I working toward in the world, shining stupid sinks and wiping baby butts (albeit adorable baby butts)? Am I wasting my life? What will I be when I grow up?

And underlying it all, tired. so tired. I try to focus on the present moment, and I feel a surge of hope and joy in my son's smile, or attempt to crawl up the stairs, or a spontaneous hug...and then I lose it. I lose the moment, I open up the laptop, I gaze at the beautiful pictures on someone's blog, coveting coveting coveting. White cabinets, a kitchen island, wait a minute I need to take out this wall and move this here and blow open this room or blow up this house because it is unliveable unliveable I cannot bear to live here ANYMORE. The kitchen is dark dark dark and I am always stuck in it. I stick myself in it. I am hiding in the kitchen I hate.

I start getting angry at my husband. He works all the time. He is never here. I can't ask him to do more than he's doing because he works literally ALL THE TIME. So the trash in the garage never gets cleaned up, he leaves me with overflowing kitchen trash to take out to add to the dump in the garage. When he is here he is always always always on his phone, always. youtubing music, facebooking, text messaging. His kids do NOT know what his face looks like unless it is facing down, gazing at the almighty ever present IPHONE. And I AM NO BETTER WITH THIS COMPUTER.

The ridiculous thing is, and those of you who know my husband know this, he is a gem. He is an absolute prince. He makes my life possible. He has some quirks that drive me nuts, but, hey, that's living with anyone. Marriage is work, our marriage is work, but on a normal day our partnership flows evenly and seamlessly I think because we choose to pay attention when the work needs doing. Truthfully, he only hides on his phone when he's tired and stressed. Truthfully, I only hide on my computer when I am tired and stressed.

The above paragraphs were written after three nights of not-great (okay non-existent) sleep. Peter is teething, Benjamin has night terrors, Greg didn't wake up the first of the three nights so I had to, and the last two nights he's been at work. Last night I gave Peter ibuprofen and opened the door wide and left the hall light on so Benjamin could find his way downstairs on his own. And I turned the monitor off. I left my door open, woke up briefly when Peter woke up, but went right back to sleep. Benjamin made his way downstairs at some point, I barely remember helping him up into bed. I discovered this morning at 8am that B had politely closed his bedroom door behind him, which may explain why Peter slept until 8 when I walked in...bet he cried awhile this morning (probably around 5am) before he gave up...oh well...

I say oh well because I can either get up and soothe and comfort and help back to sleep, or I can be present and laugh easily and play and stay on top of all the thousands of daily tasks that keep their world bright and clean and beautiful, but I can't do both anymore. Its been over 2 years since I had a regular sleep cycle. I am officially worn down.

I have been doing a lot of mulling over what I want to remember about this time in my life. What do I want to put emphasis on? I notice the memories I have taken away from different stages in my life are those that I put particular emphasis and importance on. Also, painful, I mean physically painful, memories are seared in my noggin with pretty detailed pictures and senses. Some otherwise painful memories, too. I understand that is a tool my brain has to ensure I remember the cause of the pain so I NEVER DO THAT AGAIN! Frankly, a lot of those memories make me laugh now. At any rate, other memories not associated with pain are always a little blurred. But I remember them because either they brought great joy or change to my life, or I chose at the time to put emphasis on them. What do I want to emphasize about this time in my life? I tell you what. Its not the depression.

I refuse to let depression be the main focus of my babies' first years. I want to remember the way they sound, the way they laugh, what makes them laugh, what they love to do, what surprised and delighted and inspired them. I want to remember the way they wrap themselves around my neck and middle and hold on with their soft little bodies. The way they smell. The awakening of their relationship with each other as Benjamin realizes Peter is a person and likes to play, too. How if Benjamin hears Peter he says 'oh! Peter awake!' and heads for the bedroom with me to get him. Or if we're on the way out the door, Benjamin will say 'Peter, c'mon! Bye Bye!' The way Peter looks at everyone he knows and loves, with open adoration and joy, that almost toothless grin flashing to get the attention of the person its directed at, saying I am here, too! I want to play and laugh, too! Petezilla, demolishing all train tracks and roadways in his path because he's 9.5 months old and that's how he rolls.

DESTROY ALL RAILROADS! I AM PETEZILLA!

I actually didn't know this picture was going to be this good- I really thought I was just getting a sweet snuggle bunny photo. Benjamin always delivers.

We are having a preview of spring this week here in Albuquerque, with sunshine and mild breezes and perfect, perfect temperatures. We aren't done with winter yet, but I am humming 'Here comes the sun do do do do, here comes the sun and I say It's All Right'. I feel like I am waking up after a yucky dream to my amazing, beautiful life. Keep on rejecting the depression, embrace sleep, and focus on the small, infinite, fleeting gorgeousness that are the details of childhood.

I can answer some of those big questions about myself later. Right now I am going to take a nap.

Picture number 954 of Benjamin and I posed and smiling exactly like this.