He's Here!

He's here! He's arrived!

Steven James Peres was born on November 5th at 5:08am. He weighed 7lbs 2 oz and was 20 inches in length.


We lovingly refer to him as "our little gnome". He has such a serious and wise expression. He is, so far, a very peaceful baby, though he can be a bit impatient when hungry. Just days after birth he had already regained his birth weight and added an additional 3 oz. He likes his mommy's milk.

We are enjoying this new and exciting time with two little ones. Jonathan is becoming such a great big brother! He was unsure at first what to make of this new addition to the family. The morning we brought him home (just hours after his birth) we asked if Jonathan wanted to meet his baby brother, to which Jonathan simply replied, "No, thank you." Sigh. That one will go down in the family history books. Since that first day, however, he has become very loving towards Steven, asking to give him hugs and kisses and singing sweet songs to him. It makes my heart feel like it's going to burst every time. My only hope is that, as they grow up together, they will have respect for each other and treat each other with love.

The other morning, while laying in bed, I had Steven asleep on my chest, Greg on one side of me and Jonathan cuddled up on my other side. It was true bliss. Greg made a comment about how lucky I must be - to have three men surrounding me who truly adore me. Wow. I know. I'm the luckiest woman alive.

A Letter to my Baby Boy

So much is happening right now. The summer has slipped by so quickly. You are learning and growing so fast I feel as though I can hardly keep up. Very soon I'm going to seem very busy to you as you will soon have a new baby brother or sister. I want you to know that I'm still here and still loving you and adoring you. I'm seeing all the things you are doing and who you are becoming. Here's some things I wanted to write down for us to remember about this special time in our lives.

You are now two years and four months old.
This has been a year of changes - moving, renovating, and preparing for a new baby.
Over the past few months you have learned to use the potty, tell your right from left, and climb up slides all by yourself.
You spend much of your time playing with anything with wheels.
We have lots of fun together, but the thing I like to do with you most is laugh and read together.
Your favorite thing to eat is waffles and blueberries and you love to play with trucks, trains, and matchbox cars.
You say and do some of the sweetest and silliest things, such as telling me that you're my super cuddle bunny, that mommy's hair smells like ice cream, that you love me more, and that you know that I love you.
I'm always surprised by how grown up you are when I see you shock strangers with your amazing vocabulary and manners.
Sometimes you get into trouble for not listening but we usually work it out by calming down together and talking about what went wrong.
We sometimes turn into couch potatoes together and watch Mighty Machines on TV.
There usually isn't enough time to do everything we'd like to do. One thing I'd like to do with you someday is take you to California and show you where mommy grew up.
When you get really silly you make up words and giggle and wait for tickles.
You love bath time with daddy, love "shaving bubble beards" and trying to get Ozzy wet.
Your bedroom is decorated with Thomas the Tank Engine and it is usually neat. You are very good at helping tidy up your toys.
What really calms you down when you are upset is when I just let you have your time and get to the point where we can take a breathe together.
At bedtime we get jammies on, read a book (or a few), and have hugs and kisses. I love this time of day, even when I'm tired. Usually you fall asleep around 7:30 - 8pm.
Your best characteristic is how happy and easy going you are. I'm very proud of the way you say please and thank you and the way you connect with people of all ages.

You have changed my world. You are the reason I'm so happy to be a mommy. I can't wait to see the wonderful big brother that you will become.

A lot of focus is going to be on the new baby for a little while. I want you to know that your place in my heart is secure and that I will always have time for you. I have more than enough love for both of you. And you will always be my super cuddle bunny.

All the love in the world,
Your Mommy

Playin with the Big Boys

Playin with the big boys, originally uploaded by Kristin's Vista.

Ah, summer. A time for fun in the sun and exploring new pastimes involving water. For us, this summer, that means splash pads. Splash pads are like a big sprinkler/wading pool area in local parks for kids, for free. How awesome is that?! Free! and Fun! and cooling on a hot summer day!! The only problem? Splash pads generally consist of wide open spaces and concrete. Lots of concrete.

I took the little man to a new splash pad yesterday that was huge and partitioned into four different sections of water spraying and wading pool areas. It was wonderful. It's in the middle of the largest park in the city. It was a holiday, so there were tons of people picnicking and barbecuing. I am trying so hard to take my boy to wonderful outdoorsy places like this while we have this wonderful time together... before winter and the arrival of our new baby.

I took off his sandals, led him excitedly to the edge of the wading pool and then stepped back to give him his independence and to watch what he would do. And then, OMG, I panicked. I looked around at all the concrete. All the places he could fall and hurt himself. I looked at all the people. And all the ways that he could get out of my line of sight if I sat down even for a short time. What was I doing? Is he old enough for this? What if an older kid runs into him or splashes him in the face? What if he suddenly loses sight of me and gets scared? What if he runs off and I can't catch him in time?

These were some of the questions and fears running through my mind while I tried to keep myself from taking off my shoes, throwing down my bag, and running in after him to hold his hand while he played.

What's a mom to do? He is only 2-years-old, after all. He has a seemingly permanent bruise on his forehead from repeated run-ins with the corner of the kitchen wall. He still stumbles when we walk together, hand-in-hand, at the mall. I just kept imagining him slipping, or being run over by some big kid, and falling face-first into some concrete barrier. I tried my best to plaster a smile on my face as I ran from one side to the next, following his exploration of the area.

It is easy to feel a sense of security when at home, or even in a public place where I have hold of his hand or am within an arms reach of him. But this openness, this new frontier of freedom, scares the living hell out of me.

In the end, of course, he was just fine. He didn't like the spraying water, but loved the tunnel connecting two of the pools and quickly made friends with a little girl who let him play with her ball. Once he was cold and getting tired I gathered him up in a big towel, holding him a little longer than necessary before getting him dried off and sitting him down for a snack.

I know what's coming. I know there will be more of this. I know that there will be bike-riding, and swimming, and running in parks and playgrounds. He will start to need me less and become more fearless. I just don't know how to do it. How to let go and try not to worry myself to death and give him the space he needs to grow and do it on his own. I suppose I'll continue to do what I did at the splash pad. I will let go of his hand, and take a careful step back. I will show him my biggest smile and say, "Go have fun!" all the while staying on full alert and thinking to myself, "Please be safe, please don't ever let anything happen to him. Please run back here and tell me you need your mommy."

I won't show him that I'm scared. I won't show him that I'm worried about all the danger. I'll show him how proud I am and I'll be ready with a warm towel and a big hug when he's ready to be back in my arms.

What a Crazy Life

Wow. A lot going on lately. I'm now 18 weeks pregnant. We've bought a new house. We sold our house yesterday. We will be renovating and moving in to the new house in mid-August. My son will be two-years-old in two weeks. Wow. I guess I'm allowed to have my head spinning for a while.

The pregnancy is going really well. The sickness and fatigue that felt as though they would never leave have finally left. The little kicks and flutters have started and remind me daily that there is a new little person that I get to meet soon. It is such an amazing feeling to be pregnant. To feel life begin inside of you. This is the part of pregnancy that I missed - the part I was really looking forward to again. I'm now enjoying every minute because this time I am well aware how quickly it will pass by, especially with all the other things going on around me.

The "big ultrasound" is scheduled for this Monday, June 9th. We get to see our little one, and hopefully the important parts that will tell us if we will be blessed with another little boy or if we will soon discover the world of baby girls. I am beside myself with excitement and anxiety.

In the midst of all of this, my little boy is growing up before my eyes. He is bursting with personality, ideas, and things to say. He is such an adorable conversationalist now and it is so fun. Don't get me wrong, there are moments when mommy longs for a quiet moment or two, but I have an "oh my goodness that was the cutest thing ever moment" at least once a day because of him. Just recently, we were getting ready in the morning and he simply walked over to me, looked at me with his huge blue eyes and said, "Mommy's pretty." I think my husband had to scrape me off the floor.

He tells me about what he's done during the day, he tells me about people he knows, toys he plays with, and all about planes, trains, and anything possessing wheels. I never knew how much you could love the sound of someone's voice until I heard my child telling me how he sees the world. It is the most amazing honor to be present for the early days of someone's life and awareness.

So, we're moving and having a baby; basically changing our entire lives in the matter of a few months. Well, it's better than being bored, I suppose.

Who Are These Kids and Why Are They Calling Me Mom?

Is this what I'm in for? Is this what happens after two kids? Oh help.

Seriously though, Greg and I are overjoyed that I am indeed pregnant with our second child. I'm seven weeks along. I have been feeling awful that I haven't written about it yet. Although, admittedly, I have been a bit busy.

My little boy got sick over a week ago and after about two days, I caught it too and have been absolutely miserable. It's funny because I got a really bad cold when I was about eleven weeks pregnant with Jonathan. It's not fun at all and I can't take anything to ease the symptoms. And, I'm in the first trimester, which means in addition to being miserably sick I also want to puke all day and sleep all day and generally feel yucky. A lot. A lot more than last time actually.

Ok, I'm going to stop whining because I truly am very happy and I cannot wait to meet this new member of our family. Jonathan reminds me all the time how much I love being a mother. I know that the first trimester will end and I will feel much better soon and I will start to feel moving and kicking (which I so missed once Jonathan was born!) I will start to be really excited, we will (hopefully) find out the sex, choose names, and all the other awesome things.

I will take belly pictures, and post some of the hilarious pregnancy dreams that I have had so far..... in a couple weeks. When I'm no longer sick. When I no longer am exhausted. When I can feel creative instead of forced.

Until then...
Hello baby! Your mommy is so excited about you! You are very much anticipated and loved!

Feast of a Different Flavor

Appetizer

Have you ever played a practical joke on anyone? If so, what did you do and who was your victim?

Hmm. Nope. Not that I can think of. Boring, huh?

Soup

What do your salt and pepper shakers look like?

They are horrible, sad, silver, plain, little vessels without any markings of identification as to what they contain. One basically needs to guess as to which holds the pepper and which will pour forth the salt.

Salad

Where is the next place you plan to visit (on vacation or business)?

Somewhere warm, beachy, and sunny. The specific location doesn't really matter.

Main Course

What kind of lotion or cream do you use to keep your hands from getting too dry?

(Boy, this is a rather boring feast so far. Lotion? For the main course? Oh well.) When I actually remember I use a hemp lotion that smells like coconut.

Dessert

Make up a dessert, tell us its ingredients, and give it a name.

Piecakeanice. Crunchy, almond and graham-cracker crust topped with a thin layer of fudgy-chocolate cake, topped by a layer of jamocha almond fudge ice cream topped with fresh, real whipped cream. Served with a cappuccino. Yummmm.

Another Friday, Another Feast

Appetizer

Name one thing that is unique about you.

I'm the only singing, cake-making, labor-supporting, scuba-diving, work-at-home mom that I know of.

Soup

Fill in the blank: My favorite _________ is __________ but I like _________ too.

My favorite pie is pumpkin but I like pecan too.

Salad

What type of wood do you have for your home’s furnishings?

Um, is IKEA a type of wood?

Main Course

Who do you talk to most often on the phone?

My parents. They are living on the road, in their motorhome, so when we can't be in the same geographical area we talk often on the phone. It helps to make me feel less far away from them.

Dessert

What is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you?

Wow. There are so many things. I've been blessed with great friends and family. I'll just mention the latest sweet thing that my husband did for me. This morning I was really tired and stressed about my day. He looked at me and asked if I was ok. Really looked at me. Really asked. It made me feel cared for and listened to. It's not a big thing, but it was so sweet and it's the small sweet things that make me love him day after day after day.

A Warm Welcome

I had a short business trip this week - I had to be gone from Saturday night to Tuesday night. I got home very late Tuesday night and was exhausted from a long day and a delayed flight. At the front door I was greeting by a very excited puppy who is just as happy to see me if I return from the grocery store after twenty minutes. The greeting was wonderful, but there was someone else I needed to see. So I went upstairs to change my clothes and I decided to try and sneak a peek at my adorable sleeping little boy, whom I had missed terribly.

I checked the monitor and it looked like he was sleeping well, so I figured I might not wake him by opening his door. I crept down the hallway and gingerly opened his bedroom door and was greeted with pitch blackness and the smell of a poopy diaper. Joy. In order for me to assess the situation I had to turn the light on (we have a dimmer, so at least it wasn't full brightness). I peered down into the crib to see my still-sleeping son with his arms up over his eyes - like he had woken just long enough to block the light and had fallen back to sleep. After staring in awe for another moment, I noticed the lump located where his cute little bum should have been. Woah. He never poops in his sleep at night, so I was pretty shocked, but what's a mom to do?

I picked up my beautiful boy carefully, trying to not jar him awake. He lifted his head, opened his eyes briefly and broke into an adorable lop-sided smile and then fell asleep on my shoulder. As I layed him down to change his diaper, he opened his eyes again, smiled and said, "Mommy!" Wow. It was the best welcome I have ever experienced. It was like he was having a happy dream that I was indeed in his room and holding him.

I changed his diaper quickly while he yawned and struggled to keep his eyes open. I then carried him to our chair and held him close and rocked him. In a moment he was asleep again and breathing deep, relaxed breathes. I held him close and smelled his hair and kissed his cheek and felt at home. Really at home and where I was supposed to be.

Many travelers speak of a longing for their own bed, their favorite pillow, their familiar food, but what I miss most when I am away from home is that feeling. The smell of his baby-soft skin, the warmth of his hands when he curls his fingers around mine, and the sound of his voice when he says, "Mommy!" and the knowledge that I provide that warm, safe feeling for him.

Stale airport food: $23
Hours spent delayed and bored: 3
Car ride home from the airport: $30
Finding that home really is where your heart is: Priceless

Is it Friday already?

Appetizer
What is your favorite kind of cereal?

Frosted Mini-Wheats. Yum.

Soup
When was the last time you purchased something for your home, what was it, and in which room did it go?

Full-spectrum light bulbs - to shine like the sun. Not sure if they really work or not. I assumed that they would be brighter than the bulbs we had previously, but they aren't as bright. So, I suppose time will tell if they help me feel less "blue" when endless days of no sun come upon us.

Salad
What is the funniest commercial you’ve ever seen?

Hmm... We use a PVR (Personal Video Recorder) and fast-forward through all the commercials, so I can't think of a commercial in recent memory that tickled my funnybone. I suppose I would have to default with "York Peppermint Patty" commercials. They supplied endless gags and jokes growing up. If they made more commercials like that, maybe I wouldn't record everything ahead of time and skip the ads. No, I would probably still skip them.

Main Course
Make up a name for a company by using a spice and an animal (example: Cinnamon Monkey).

Nutmeg Kitty - a boudoir design shop.

Dessert
Fill in the blank: I haven’t ______ since ______.

I haven't sung in front of an audience in many years. I miss that feeling sometimes, of a song completely taking over inside me and flying out into the air. It's amazing, that feeling when you're not even singing anymore. The song is singing you. Wow, I miss that.
My "sleepy time" concerts are intimate and beautiful, as I watch the dimmed light color the tender face of my son. It brings tears to my eyes often, and I am able to express that feeling in the song I'm singing. I've never sung for a stadium full of screaming fans, but I think my nightly whispered renderings of soft love songs and the looks of love from my son are more amazing than any legion of screaming fans. How awesome.

And, twenty minutes..... Go!

What is it about us scrawny humans that makes us want to put some sort of mark on the universe before we die? Whether it is a buried time capsule, a best-seller, or a nobel prize, many of us feel a need to share our views and our selves with the world. Strange behavior for a species that so recently ago, historically speaking, even knew that there was a big world out there.

Why do I mention this? Because I am one of these deluded individuals. I want to fix something. I want to make something better before I go. I want to make a change in the way people see things. And I have no idea how.

I have been watching all these "talks" on a site called "TED.com". The talks are filmed during an annual symposium of thinkers and doers and changers from around the world. All these brilliant and driven people get together once a year and share ideas - in the form of 20-minute presentations. Some of them are mind-bending, some are moving, some are paradigm-shifting. All are awesome. I watch and learn and am in awe and then I think, what would I talk about? What would I share with the TED conference, given the chance? How could I change something, or start a new direction of an idea in 20 minutes?

I would talk about birth. I would talk about the need for education of birth in schools. I would talk about the need to educate women on what their bodies are really capable of doing. I would talk about the need to meet with lawmakers and insurance companies (one and the same, in some countries) on the need for support of non-medicalized birth. I would speak with passion and conviction and statistics on how women, and babies, are better off with fewer interventions and how what has become a grass-roots movement for greater choice for moms-to-be needs to be much more than a grass-roots movement.

But how? How do I get the message out there? How do I educate myself enough? How do I become involved? How does the collective "we" get the message out to the public that we women have been bamboozled into believing that we are incapable of performing the very act that nature bestowed upon us? How do we share our amazing stories with impressionable young women before they are handed the sentence, "Get the epidural!"? What can I do?

What would you do? Given 20 minutes to speak with some of the great minds of our time, what would be your topic?

More words! Wordy words!

Ok, in just an effort to keep track and fool my flaky memory, I am writing a current list of baby boy's communicative efforts. I'm also showing off vicariously. (I'm also working on my own vocabulary to ensure I stay ahead of my one-and-a-half-year-old for at least another couple months.)

Mommy
Daddy
Baby
No
Hand
Button
Bubble
Car
Bus
Choo-choo
Doggies
Meow
Duckies
Horsies
Monkey
Turtle
Fishie
Cow
Oink-oink
Plane
Truck
Up
Down
On
Off
Open
Closed
One
Two
Three
Four
A-Z
Downtown
Napkin
Yellow
Orange
Green
Blue
Red
Money
Happy
Hello
Hi
Bye-bye
Morning
Tomorrow
Day
Carrot
Apple
Pear
Tea
Yucky
Yummy
Chicken
Cheese
Cookie
Cracker
Milk
Water
Burger (Don't judge!)
Pee-pee
Poopie
Potty
Eye
Arm
Nose
Mouth
Hair
Toes
Shoes
Hat
Mitten
Shirt
Pants
Diaper
Blankie
Read
Soochie (Pacifier)
Echo
Cooking
Doing
Going

Whew. That's all I can remember at the moment. Crazy. Wasn't it just a bit ago that he depended on me totally for everything? Now we go to the mall and he squirms and and says, "Walking" (oops, one more) and wants to go it alone.

My heart hurts just a little as I let him down with a reminder that I'm not used to saying yet, "Ok sweetie, but you have to hold Mommy's hand!" But then, when the evening is over and we're on our way to the car I carry him and hold him close and he smiles and says "Mommy!" and leans forward for a kiss. The whole world stops and I get my special kiss and tell myself that I don't need any list or blog - I will remember the moment, this one little perfect kiss, forever.

Friday's Feast (Wow, look at me sticking with something!)

Appetizer
How many times per day do you usually laugh?

Thanks to my son, about 20-30 times. That's on a slow day.

Soup
What do your sunglasses look like?

Black, solid frames. Simple but stylish, or so I'd like to think.

Salad
You win a free trip to anywhere on your continent, but you have to travel by train. Where do you go?

Northern Washington and into Alaska. It would be a nice, long trip and I think it would be awesome landscape to see by train.

Main Course
Name one thing you consider a great quality about living in your town/city.

All the parks and greenspace. My city seems to take great pride in their neighborhood parks and driving five minutes in any one direction from my house and I can see at least 3-4 parks. They are beautiful in the spring and it breaks up the monotony of city/suburbia.

Dessert
If the sky could be another color, what color do you think would look best?

Purple-ish gray. Like the sky during a thunderstorm in New Mexico. Stunningly beautiful. I don't think I would mind if it looked like that all the time. With storms of sun and blue skies. :)

Friday's Feast

Appetizer
What is your favorite beverage?

During the holiday season, Starbuck's Eggnog Latte. The rest of the time, either a white-chocolate mocha or a cappuccino.

Soup
Name 3 things that are on your computer desk at home or work.

Pile 1, Pile 2, and Pile 3. It's such a mess. An ongoing battle with myself that I never seem to win.

Salad
On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being highest), how honest do you think you are?

Gracious. This is a tough one to answer. I guess I would say an 8. I feel that I am honest, but I wouldn't necessarily spill the brutal truth if it was going to cause pain for other people.

Main Course
If you could change the name of one city in the world, what would you rename it and why?

Walla Walla, Washington. I'm sure that the citizens of Walla Walla love it, but seriously? Walla Walla? It's just hard to take it seriously. I would perhaps choose something more serious. Less silly. Perhaps Earnestown.

Dessert
What stresses you out? What calms you down?

Stresses: being late. being found out for procrastinating. being imperfect. trying to please too many people at once.

Calming: my son's giggles. a game of peek-a-boo. one of those moments when my husband says something really simple and sweet. a nice cup of cappuccino. feeling safe. laying in bed for just a couple extra minutes in the morning when the sheets feel so soft and comforting.

The Beginning of a Feast

In my continued efforts to do as little original work as possible, I'm ripping off my friend Sam's blog and posting a "Friday's Feast". I love the idea and I like the questions, so here goes:

Friday's Feast

Appetizer
What is your middle name? Would you change any of your names if you could? If so, what would you like to be called?

Michelle. I'm ok with my middle name. It sounds womanly and gentle to me. I've never been a big fan of "Kristin", to be completely honest. It's a nice name, but I've never heard a song or poem written about "Kristin" or seen any memorable movie character with the name. So, unique is a bonus, but I have never felt like my name sounds beautiful or feminine. It has always sounded somewhat clipped and terse and reserved to me. That being said, I'm not sure I look like any other name, it's a good strong name, and I'm pretty used to it, so it's too late to change it now. But if I get the opportunity to name a daughter (please, please, please!) I will choose something more flowing and lovely-sounding - at least to my ears.

Soup
If you were a fashion designer, which fabrics, colors, and styles would you probably use the most?

Denim, cotton, and cashmere. Denim for the steadfastness - an enduring and constant companion in my life. Always there and comfortable. Cotton for it's flexibility - it can be shirt, dress, PJ's, undies, anything. No need to iron, comfortable and fashionable. No muss, no fuss - like I wish I were. Cashmere, not for it's price or "Ooh" factor - but for it's simple softness. Something you can sink into, hug, feel warmth from. Cashmere feels like kissing my sons' forehead when we rock and cuddle at bedtime.

Salad
What is your least favorite chore, and why?

Emptying the diaper genie. Really doesn't need much explanation.

Main Course
What is something that really frightens you, and can you trace it back to an event in your life?

Being scorned/laughed at. Not sure I can trace it to a particular event. I was the baby of my extended family and was teased quite a bit, but mainly I think it's just who I am. I have always had a fear of what others think of me. It's quite difficult when combined with my own perfectionism. It is something I'm always working on. Perhaps by the time I am old and wise I will no longer care about what others think of me, but I don't think that's happening any time soon.

Dessert
Where are you sitting right now? Name 3 things you can see at this moment.

I am sitting in my basement "family room" with my laptop on my lap. I can see one of my son's toy boxes and wish he was down here playing so I could put down the computer and pick him up... but he's napping at the moment. I can see a figurine my husband gave me for my birthday last year of a couple and a new baby. That figurine is so special to me because it was such a surprise and it constantly reminds me of holding my son and having family hugs. At night before his bedtime, Greg and I get him ready for bed and then I pick him up and say "Give daddy hugs and say ''nite-'nite" and just recently he makes a kissy face and wants daddy to give him a kiss and then he wants daddy to give mommy a kiss and then he smiles and giggles and is ready for bed. It's pretty amazing how just looking at a figurine can make me think of so many different memories. The third thing I can see is the television. My nightly entertainment. I should resolve to find something else to do at least one night a week. At least with my laptop in the basement I also write and read and do other computer-ish-type things while boob-tubing it.

My, How Fast You Grow!

My, What Big Feet You Have!, originally uploaded by Kristin's Vista.

My little boy, my how you've grown. Tomorrow you will be 17 months old. Wow. It brings tears to my eyes to think that you are almost a year-and-a-half old.

You have begun to walk, talk, and really come into your own personality, just in the past couple of months. Your very first word, other than "Mom-mom" and "Da-da", was "car"! You love cars, planes, and fans - you actually get rather upset when we go someplace with ceiling fans and they aren't turned on.

Now, after just starting to talk in the past month or two, you say "Bubble", "Arm", "Cookie", "Hi", "Bye", "Meow", "Pizza", "Cracker", "Okie-Dokie", "Elle" (you little friend's name). It seems like you add a new word, or two, every day. I love hearing you talk and seeing you look so excited every time you use a new word.

You are walking all over the place! I love how you hold my hand and walk when we go out now. I love watching you toddle around and run into my arms.

With every day I just love you more. You make me smile and laugh in ways I never knew possible. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for choosing me as your mom-mom. I love you more than I could have ever imagined.

Always,
Your mom-mom

I wanna

I want to change the world. I have experienced such a change in my life and I want to others to experience a change. I want women around the world to view womanhood differently. I want them to have the opportunity to learn about who they are and what it means for them to be women. This isn't about equality or women's lib. This is simply about the personal journey to your own self and the path to finding the community that is womanhood.

I just have found such an intense joy in becoming a mother. I have discovered a whole new piece of my identity that I now wear proudly. The world, for all it's speed and technology, just isn't moving fast enough for me. I want it to move so that I can run with it and meet and share and learn. I just want my time to be used. I need to reach out and make my voice heard and bring women together. I'm just having one of those moments wherein I feel contrained by time and stagnant against my will. I feel as though I'm on the brink and have to wait for the starting gun. But I feel ready.

An Artist

I could have been great. I could have had my name in lights. Somewhere deep down inside myself I believe that.

I watched a show tonight in which hundreds of talented people auditioned to be a "triple threat" star - meaning that they sing, dance, and act. I thought the whole time how much I would have loved to be in their shoes. I have sung since before I can remember. I was in countless talent shows, choirs, and musical theater productions. I acted in many plays in school. I actually took ballet when I was little - though I'm sure it's hard for some to imagine me in a tutu. I'm sure that if I had crazy stage parents intent on making a buck I could've really gone somewhere. But thank god I didn't because I'm pretty sure I would have been miserable.

You see, along with some talent, I was also born with a horrendous amount of self-consciousness. I'm not sure why I have such an ample dose. I haven't yet found a use for it or some preordained calling stemming from this great gift. It instead frustrates my ambitions and make me quite uncomfortable in many social situations, but worst of all it impedes my belief in myself. I talk myself out of the best intentions. I don't finish things I start for fear of failure and humiliation. I'm always worried about what people will think of me.

I grew up hearing a story my parents told of me in which I wore a pink dress to preschool. I was so proud of that pink dress and yet when I came home from school that day I cried and said that I never again wanted to wear pink because some little boy said I looked ugly. I still have an aversion to pink.

So, after years of soul-searching I have come to terms with who I am. Unfortunately, I am still stuck with a frustration - that of someone aching to be the artist I feel within my bones. I spaz out with it from time to time, starting this or that hobby or coming up with the most brilliant ideas for this or that. I usually never follow through, or my ideas stay on the scraps of paper I sequestered them to.

But something feels like it's changing. Perhaps the creative side of myself that I have kept muzzled in the cellar is finally getting too loud to ignore. Instead of laying myself bare on the public stage, I will do so more on the page. I get these thoughts, these ideas, even sentences... they come to me when I lay down at night to sleep, or while sipping my coffee in the morning. Any time of day I want to write something, or leave something behind. I want someone, someday, to feel that I had something worth saying. I want to move people with my words. I want to share something. I want to feel more of the open acceptance that comes from only words and pages staring back at you. The screen is so accommodating. I do not feel self-conscious here because right now it's just me, here, alone with my words.

Who knows. Perhaps this is just another late-night idea, another longing to live up to what I thought I would be. Perhaps this will be another start without a finish, but at least, for tonight I can be honest. I can say what I want. I can be it. At least for now.

Falling

It's not just the weather. It's not just the fact that lots of things I was counting on to not change right now are changing. I'm not very good with a lack of control. It's not just the fact that I feel the weight in my lungs and my feet and I just want to sleep. It's so many of these things.

It's such a strange balance... that of feeling mopey and depressed, along with being responsible for a family, along with trying to venture into a new project - something that I have wanted to do for a long time. It is a jumbled mix of anticipation, joy, sadness, exhaustion, excitement, and moments of hopelessness. It all comes out feeling like a jittery caffeine high at 3am in a rainstorm. Or something like that.

I don't even know what to say about it. I don't know how to share that I just want to crawl into my son's crib beside him and hold him and cry and sleep and bask in his warmth and safety. I want some of that. Some of that innocence, unbridled joy, and carefree abandon. Why do we not remember such a blissful and lucky time in our lives?

So instead, I sit. I wait until I can cuddle with him and try to make him laugh. I keep myself busy. I try to convince myself that it will all work out and that no decisions need to be made today.

I stare at this picture, at these eyes that beckon me to play and put on a smile and enjoy the world through their view. Perhaps it will be a falling into a sense that it is ok to let things go. To take a breath. To move forward with a bit of carefree abandon and hope for the best.

Totally Ripping Off Another Blog

Things I'm not so proud of:

My follow-through is just not what it should be. I don't stick with things. I'm a starter, an "idea-woman", not a "see-it-through-to-the-end" type. Even things that are cool and really good. I just get distracted by something else that is cooler or better. I'm a dabbler. How do I teach my son the importance of perseverance?

As much as I think that I am an independent thinker and such, I totally follow fads and am interested in fashion. I mean, my god, I totally ripped off an idea from another person's blog, right? Yeah.

I'm not good at keeping in close contact with friends. I try, but am pulled into this inner world of mine where I could hide out for weeks if someone doesn't pull me out. It isn't a matter of not caring, it's just that I really and truly forget and am tossed along the waves of the ocean of my thoughts and ever-changing priorities. (And I sit around writing garbage like that instead of reaching out to people that matter to me.)

I'm selfish. If I won the lottery I think I might give less to charity than I hope and tell myself I would. But who knows? I'd like to test the hypothesis.

-- Deep breath. Acceptance. Clarity. Forgiveness --

Things I'm rather proud of:

My son loves books and seems really verbal. He also is a generally happy child. Seriously, don't know how it happened, but everywhere we go people comment on how happy he is. Very cool. (Please, please, let him live a life of continued happiness and book-loving.)

I think I'm a good mom. I get such joy from just being around my son. I feel smiles just bursting from the inside. I seem to make him happy as well. It's a mutually beneficial relationship thus far. I love being a mom.

I lost the baby weight. I fit into smaller jeans than I wore before I got pregnant. That freaking rocks.

I have a good singing voice and really enjoy singing to my son.

I have, thus far, been able to actually balance working and motherhood. Not so much some hobbies I enjoyed previously, but something had to give, right? But I think my career is going well and I have time with my son. It's awesome.

I have some great friends. Despite the aforementioned issues on my part. My friends are amazing. Steadfast, fun, supportive, real.

I have been married almost five years. I think in the current state of the universe, that is an accomplishment. Someone has wanted to stay married to me for almost five years. That is a damn miracle.


So, I have pride, I have shame. I am me. And most days, I'm ok with that.

Memories

How is it that I cannot remember whole chunks of my life, even seemingly important details and events that others seem to remember with complete clarity? While questions that begin with "Do you remember..." feel like hour two of the SATs, I can remember songs and experiences referenced by them with absolute precision. I just picked up a book on the topic because I am so flabbergasted by the phenomenon. So I will be reading, "This is Your Brain on Music" by Daniel Levitin and, if I remember, will try to update a bit about it.

In the mean time, the song above is one of my key memory songs - the idolization of my cousin, Denise, is summed up for me in the song below. This was actually a song she played quite a bit during my visit to her when I was in, like, 4th grade. It was her "song" with her boyfriend at the time and, wow, I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted a song, I wanted to be as cool as I thought she was. So this song for me sums up longing, envy, youth, hopes.

It's amazing that all of that can fit into a simple song from the 80's, but I love it. What are your defining songs?

Love Songs for my Baby Boy

I used to worry. I used to freak out about what I would sing to my baby when he was born. I worried I didn't know enough platonic, disney-esque songs that mother's are supposed to sing to their children. I'm not all that keen on bible songs and "Hush Little Baby" just seemed void of feeling. So, when my little boy was born I started to sing the songs I loved... love songs. I sing Sinatra, The Beatles, Showtunes, and more. I always felt kind of guilty that I sang them to comfort him, but sometimes these favorites in their late-night renditions were more comfort to me.

But as time went by and I got to know him more and spent more time with him I began to realize that I had fallen in love with him. It is the most intense, natural, and satisfying love that I have ever felt. My love for my husband is amazing, but it's something I have to work for and if he stopped loving me, chances are that after a long time, my love would fade.

But my love for my little boy is eternal. Undying. If he left me alone one day never to return, I would never stop loving him. It is a love that pours out of me, fills me up, and overwhelms me at regular intervals. As cliche as it may be, he is my heart. Sometimes it aches to have my heart walking the world apart from me. He makes me proud, happy, giggly, sad, protective, creative, silly, tender, and peaceful - or at least he has brought these qualities out in me where I didn't know they had previously exsited. I am a better person as his mother than I have ever been.

So, now, when I sing to him, at bedtime or anytime, I sing my favorite love songs and they could not feel more appropriate.

For my little boy:

Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper
I love you
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me

Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me
You'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me.

Welcoming Me Home

Dear Little Man,

I had to be away from you recently. I had to fly far, far away to go to a conference for my job. I had to be away for a whole week from you. I ached with missing you. When I closed my eyes I could feel your little fingers and see your big bright smile. All I wanted to do was come home to you.

While I was away I caught a cold. It was a really nasty cold and I felt awful. I felt like the worst kind of person because all I wanted to do was come home and crawl into bed and sleep the cold away. I wanted you to know how much I missed you and how much it killed me not to be able to sing you to sleep because my voice wouldn't work.

But then, yesterday, when I was feeling better and could hold you and kiss you again you didn't want to let me go. Our bond hadn't broken. You hadn't forgotten about me. You loved me just as much and wanted me around. Thank you, my darling son. Thank you for filling up my heart with such warmth, such love. Now, when I am in my office working, more temporarily away from you, I can close my eyes and feel your strong arms clinging to me, your head on my shoulder and I can see your bright smile. I just can't wait to be close to you again.

With the biggest love in the world,
Your mom-mom

In the land of no-nod.

10:42am Is first morning in the land of Yurriteimrong. Son is finally sleeping amid loud barking sounds and constant lecture-type-things about how kids should sleep though anything. Yes. I get it. They should. But mine doesn't so can you just please try to be quiet so he can get a nap?! Um. Yeah. We have snacks, toys, and sunscreen, but can we survive? We must. Will report as time allows.

All alone in a hotel. And yet.

This is for me. I just want to remember.

Day.
End.
Talk.
Silence.
Bubbles.
Champagne.
Bath.
Laze.
Dress.
Exert.
Exercise.
Pulse.
Adrenaline.
Music.
Beat.
Dance.
Conquer.
Smile.
Laugh.
Shout.
Silently.
Me.
Matters.
Song.
Smile.
Still.
Peace.

May you all have an one-word-worthy experience very soon, all by yourself. And when it is almost at an end, try listening to "Trouble" by Ray LaMontagne. Turn it up loud. Close your eyes. Lay back. It is emboldening.

Warts and All

I just finished watching an interesting episode of 20/20 about taboos in America. There were racial taboos and relationship taboos, but what really caught my attention was what they called the "Mommy Taboo". A freelance writer in the UK had written an article speaking about how bored she felt as a mother of young children. Lame bedtime stories, cheesy mommy & me groups, and other such bland activities left her numb intellectually. She had children later than some because of her focus on her career and when she had her children she quit her job to care for them full time. Buying into the myth of complete fulfillment through motherhood, she expected that raising children full time would not only be fulfilling but fascinating and stimulating as well. She found her experience to be quite different.

This show comes at an interesting time for me. Having just discussed this topic with a friend of mine last week - clandestinely over a late-night coffee - and having been recently reticent to share some of my "down and dirty" mommy experiences with a friend who is considering having children, I feel the very real weight of this taboo. Thankfully, I stumbled on to some wonderful women in the time since my son was born who have been open and honest with me. This allowed me to share my feelings and not worry about being judged. But out there, in the real world, when I am asked by acquaintances or coworkers about my experience as a new mom, I do not hesitate to tow the company line, as it were, and report that I am splendidly happy twenty-four hours a day and everything about motherhood is joy personified. What else could I say?

Could I say that I question myself and my abilities as a mother daily? Could I venture to share my disappointment and disillusionment in my son's refusal to sit and let me read him a story? Would I be so bold as to express my boredom or complete lack of ideas for how to play with a young toddler? No, I could and would not. And why not? Because, to the world right now, it seems that loving your children is supposed to be the same thing as being defined by your children.

I wonder if, in my mother's generation and her mother's before her, it has always been this way. Were ladies lunches or the occasional canasta game really fronts for bitch sessions and pleas for understanding? Or did a handful of mothers sit with fake smiles plastered on as thick as the foundation used to camouflage the dark circles under their eyes? Why is it so bad to say that, while we love our children with all our hearts, asking, "What's that?! Is that a block?! Is that a blue block?!" for the fiftieth time makes us feel like our IQ points are slowly dribbling out of our ears?

In some of the first days of living through teething with my son I voiced some frustration, and subsequent guilt, at his fussiness and sleeping troubles to my mother. She said the most wonderful thing to me: "You love your husband, don't you? You chose to marry him and to be with him forever, right? Well, aren't there times that you just don't want to be in the same room with him? There will be times that you will feel the same way about your children. And that's ok."

If I could wrap up a present and give it to every mother after they give birth it would be this: A small piece of paper with two words clearly printed.

"That's OK"

Whatever you are feeling and whatever you are dealing with as a mother, that's ok. Even the moms out there that seem to have it all together and get a shower every day have felt it to. You are not alone. We are not alone. Let's leave the concealer at home and make it ok to just be us. Ok to know that becoming a mother doesn't banish the person you were before, however flawed or fabulous. Becoming a mother just adds to the person you will be at the end of your road and whoever that is, that's ok.

Objectivity

Another work of art by Jessica Thier Photography

I know that everyone who has ever had a child has said that their child is the most beautiful child ever born. It doesn't really matter that as the child walks down the street people cross to the other side for fear of an encounter in which they would have to put on a sappy smile and exclaim at the loveliness of the child all the while wondering why that dog was being walked around without a leash. (I kid. I'm seriously not that mean. But still, not everyone is the perfect specimen of beauty.)

So, I get it.

So, my child is the most beautiful child the world has ever known. Seriously. Oh my god. Wherever he goes people exclaim at his stunning eyes, his sparkling smile (um, can a smile sparkle with just five teeth?), and his pleasant and bubbly demeanor. That's right, my child is beautiful on the inside and outside. I can't stop kissing his eternally kissable, soft, chubby cheeks. I take a moment to just gaze at his stunning features as I prepare to clean his poopy bum. My husband and I talk of it often - how absolutely attractive our child is. We share this information with each other with an air of supremacy that the best of our genes mingled to create this perfect human creature.

Even when he is not in his usual happy mood, he is adorable. His little bottom lip begins to pout, his eyes cloud up, his perfect little nose turns red, and he emotes in a clear and straightforward manner. No beating around the bush, he is unambiguous and succinct in his statement of complaint.

Having such a stunning child has awakened me to a world of explanations. Such as why Hollywood types have taken on children as a symbol of status. When I wait in the supermarket line and the women invariably exclaim, "Oh look at his beautiful blue eyes! His smile is so adorable!" I just say "Oh, he is just such a flirt!" and I quietly revel in my moment of glory - that my genetic material was directly responsible for those blue eyes, that my womb housed this angel and brought him into the world.

All of these details of truth help immensely when he sometimes whines, bites, pinches, cries, fusses, farts, poops, squirms, screeches, claws, drools, slams, spills, throws, drops, and behaves in other ways only in order to fit in with some of his lesser peers. We see that he merely wears the occasional tantrum as a mask - a burden which must be difficult to bear. But, we wouldn't want him to seem strange, would we?

I'm Not Worthy!

I am down on my knees. Arms stretched in front of me. The perfect pose to give praise to single parents everywhere. I am so not worthy. My hubby has been out of town on business for four days. The first day or two I felt that I would never make it through. Suddenly all the little things he does added up and turned into a million more little things I had to do - with baby boy in my arms. But then, by day three I felt like I had hit my stride and we were doing just fine (after the purchase of a new bath toy and a non-slip bath mat). But now that it is the last day, and baby boy is in bed for the night, and there are only hours until my husband comes home... I am just so over this.

I met a woman a week ago who is raising four children, two sets of twins, on her own. Completely by herself. Wow. I feel overwhelmed just taking care of an 11-month-old and a little dog. I never gave it much thought before becoming a mom, but now I just sit down with my tub of Ben and Jerry's and thank my lucky stars that I do not have to do this alone. I have previously mentioned the need for great villagers, but today I feel ever so thankful for the co-habitor of my hut.

So, with ice cream spoon raised, I salute those brave women and men who, by choice or consequence, raise any number of children on their own. There is no teammate by the side of the ring waiting to be tagged in, no understanding ear for you while you explode about the child throwing the toy on the floor for the zillionth time. Those solitary soldiers deserve our respect, and a coupon for a free day of childcare and a spa gift certificate. (I did it for a week, honey, this is a hint!)

I always loved that cheesy song by Helen Reddy, "You and Me Against the World" that she sings to her child. But I don't ever want to live it. I love you, my darling husband. Please come home to me and take back your title as "bath-time entertainer & jungle gym" before I make Ben & Jerry's stock split.

"You and me against the world
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world
When all the others turn their back and walk away
You can count on me to stay."

Randomness Wednesday

You know how everyone thinks that they are a good driver? I think I'm a good driver, and I love driving. I know also, however, that I am an impatient, bitchy driver. I hate when people are driving in front of me. It doesn't really matter if they are driving the speed limit or not. I just don't want them in front of me, impeding my progress in any way. Just gets under my skin. *Sigh* The truth is cleansing, isn't it?

*****

It bothers me when people ask if my son is a boy or a girl. I know it shouldn't, but I feel like I have to stand up for his masculinity or something. I don't care if he grows up straight or gay or decides to marry his dog, but I want people to know that he is, indeed, a he. You'd think the camo pants and slayer t-shirt would tip them off. Jeesh.

*****

It is a mindfreak to think what the world was like before penicillin. Seriously. I have a tiny infection and have to take antibiotics for a week, but then it will be gone. No worries. If I were alive 80 years ago, I would be reviewing my will or signing up for base-jumping lessons right now. Science rocks. Not math. Math still sucks. But Science is ok by me.

*****

I am a champion procrastinator which is obvious when I review all the projects that I have started and never finished. Doesn't it make you wonder how many really cool things were begun or dreamed up but just never came to fruition? Some bastard is sitting on a piece of paper with the formula for the transporter, but decided to watch another Deep Space Nine rerun instead.

*****

Last week while sitting on a plane I let my mind wander through some delusions of granduer for a book that I would write all about calming women's fears about pregnancy and childbirth. I just feel like I was so freaked out by all the horrible books I read and things random poeple said to me when I was going through it and it's not necessary - and it is a really beautiful experience. But then I thought, I only have one child, who the hell do I think I am?

*****

Isn't it so awesome when you stumble onto a song that you remember hearing in a movie/show and loving? Check out The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice and see if you remember the movie that showcased it so beautifully. Um, I guess it only works if you saw the movie. If you don't make the connection let me know and I'll tell you the movie that you have to go and rent immediately.

*****

Building a Village

For a long time now I considered myself a bit of a loner. Limited friend circles have been the norm in my life. I'm not great at keeping in touch. There always seems to have been a reason, even if I don't remember it (my memory is a whole different topic) that this or that friend and I drifted apart or severed our ties. Strangely enough, this didn't seem to bother me too much. I actually just thought that everyone was like that. Until I met my husband and his band of merry men, I didn't really comprehend the term "life-long friend", nor did I see that my life was any worse for the lack of them.

As with the entirety of my existence, this changed when I became pregnant and had a child. Suddenly, community, comraderie, and companionship seemed vitaly important. While attending a prenatal class, our instructor was explaining the transition stage in labor (the most difficult stage) and said that perhaps that stage was nature's way of telling a woman that she should not be alone for what would be coming next... the delivery. I see pregnancy, and all the moods and hormones that accompany it, as nature's way of telling us that we should not be alone for what is coming next... motherhood.

Motherhood is, as I've said before, a beautiful and amazing experience and journey, but my god if it isn't baffling. There is just so much that is not intuitive. There are so many things, good and bad, that are begging to be shared. Questions demanding answers from those that have gone before. And so, many of us begin the process of building our village. This, I have a feeling, is easier for some that it has been for me. Some begin the process with some built-in villagers. Family, and/or friends who have recently begun the journey who can offer friendly advice or a loving shoulder when times are tough. For me, my village consisted of friends who were there for me, but who were not yet moms themselves, loving family and a husband who were a bit to close to the situation to give me some perspective when the poop hit the fan (so to speak). So, in the days and months following the birth of my son I began to seek out some additional villagers to boost the population.

I have already shared that the maintenance of friendships has not been my strongsuit. Well, the creation of friendships has been even more difficult. Working in a job in which I travelled 75% of the time allowed me to hide behind a nice excuse of little time or opportunity, but in reality I am afraid. I fear being judged. I fear being not good enough. I fear that my opinion of myself will not be shared by others. I fear that all my flaws will be uncovered and the truth of me will not be so attractive. So, I tend not to try. But, I told myself, for the good of my son's future play-dates I had to make an effort.

The effort I have made has been well worth while and I found the effort to be surprisingly little. I have found some amazing women so far. Some with children near my son's age. Some with children much older. And some, I have realized, have no children yet but have been the best support through it all so far and have been there all along.

I never knew how fullfilling friendships such as these could be. I could have never known how important these friendships would be to me during my formative time as a new mother. You know the saying that goes, "It takes a village to raise a child"? This village, I have found, has very little to do with my child and everything to do with me. It takes a village to raise a mother.

Too Happy to Write

Have you ever noticed how you suddenly have so much more to say when you're unhappy about something? Beauty, joy, love, bliss can all be captured in a sigh, a look, even a photograph. But sadness and discontent seem to require paragraphs and essays.

This is my excuse for being so short-winded as of late. I am in love. In love with my husband, who after all this time still gives me butterflies in my stomach. In love with my son, whom I would be more than happy to just watch sleep and smile and play for all the rest of my days. I'm in love with my life right now. I know that these times are so rare - the times when I just feel completely content and at peace with everything I am. So I am just going to sit here, smiling to myself, wallowing around in my happiness until my fingers get all pruney. I am unapologetically happy. And that is all I have to say about that.

Happy Mother's Day!

Motherhood is the most amazing, fullfilling, and overwhelming thing I have done in my life. Happy Mother's Day to all the awesome mothers out there!