SOMAS 601

Week 4 Hmk

Wherein I discuss my revelations about my fears.

I used to fear what people thought about me, I used to worry about interactions for days upon days.  Now that worry is reserved for interactions with people I respect and hold dear.   Interestingly I’ve never worried or been fearful of not receiving [insert item/goal here].

I’m fearful of success, success in every area of my life. Success in parenting, success with endeavors to create monetary wealth, success with treatment and demonstration, success with relationship maturation, success with my ideas….so I make little mental and material distractions to keep me from achieving success, mostly rooted in questioning my worthiness of crazy blinding success.  I am successful though if I follow what RW Emerson wrote.

When I’m a great parent I’ve got to keep acting in a compassionate and loving way all the time, even when I’m sick and tired of them all. I’ve been surrendering to the moments a lot more lately.

When I’m successful with my ideas, I’ve got to be accountable and represent myself and my idea with integrity.  There’ll be more work to do and I’m unsure of my tenuous maturity in this new area of adulthood to handle it all.

When I’m successful with mediation and prayer, and demonstrations occur, my faith will deepen immeasurably and my convictions to live this path may lead me to an area that I’m completely terrified to admit I might be talented with. I’m afraid to be that bright, worried I’ll leave some behind when I’d rather take everyone with me because every single consciousness occurring here has that beautiful wondrous potential—why  should I be special?  (ego doesn’t discern the difference between transformation and death, no?) but then why shouldn’t I?

If my husband and I are to cleave together we need continuous growth. Thus far we’ve been through fits and starts of spiritual growth, honing each other into better living—of course parenting is a major part of that growth, children really force us to examine ourselves.

So, I’ve been releasing distractions of all manner and size that have kept me from my perceived success and my material success.  Some are small mental blocks subtle broken records, others are real distractions I toss in the way to add a tinge of emergency to anything I’m working on.  Removing these, I’ve noticed a great success with my prioritizing and time management, I’ve gotten a lot done and been more present doing it.  I’ve felt greater compassion around not completing household work or slips in my parenting style, been much more present and understanding with my girls.  And I’m attempting to work with a friend to get a business plan together that I will pitch to a group deciding the fate of a nearby property.

And yet it is interesting that yesterday, attending church solo with two in tow (third was ill and at home with The Man) I was so high, and exuberant about life in all its glorious forms and relations.  I am here, I love being a momma, I am loving this adventure—why not? Any thought to the contrary is just silly static that has no place in my positive sphere.  There was not a thing that would deter me from that space, I love my life, it is so good.  And today happened, with glitter loosed and migrating unauthorized around the house, a non-napping baby, and a three year old thoroughly in tantrum mode, I slid sideways somewhat. However I witnessed, the whole debacle, and avoided calamity.  I felt the wave pass, lifted me, carried me a short way, instead of struggling I let it go, and had my feet on the sand again.

Today is a good day to begin again.

“To laugh often and much;to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Oh my heart aches, it cracks open, and open, and open.  It's joyous sorrow I feel, and it's slippery to contain.  I know I'm making inroads against unconscious behavior, it's just so difficult sometimes, this becoming.  I feel my organs rearranging, though there's resistance there's nothing to fight against, preparing for flight.

Monk-a-doodle has been experiencing illness past few days, still not quite back yet, and Baby R has just been so fussy today.  I've so much work to do and not enough time, and I keep bullishly stepping in my own way creating environmental stress where there needn't be, i.e. tiring myself with less sleep, not eating my best or at all, too much sugar, avoiding yoga and meditation, sitting in overwhelm instead of moving that small inch that's a cinch.

Watching snow fall, wishing I could go out in it and be completely alone for a undetermined time.

And I read this and this.  There's so much becoming all around when one looks for it, we're on an upswing I'm positive.

screaming

whining

pushing

crying

I love you sleeping

helping

playing

running

staying

i love you laughing

battling

grabbing

blaming

i love you sleeping

messing

eating

mixing

i love you laughing

caterwaul

lament and flail

i love you sleeping

thoughtful growing
learning Knowing

i love you laughing

wondrous comic tragedy

i love you sleeping

i love you laughing

It's not you, it's me

Last night, beginning SOMAS 601 Class (again), I got the "Surrender" angel card.  But that was after I picked up both the "Joy" and "Intention" cards.

My little epiphany came with a wallop...I'm the common denominator here. It's not a child's fault they're acting out, it's always some new stress they're processing that comes out sideways. My reactions are my own. They, we all as babies, arrive here perfectly equipped to have a beautiful life, and then they encounter US.

At this moment there is a lot rumbling around inwardly. Guilt about all my lack of parenting skill, my perceived lack of love. Sadness that they didn't choose better people to be their parents.  Compassion for their little souls stuck with me, I who barely have any idea what I'm doing.  More sadness for all the other little souls in bodies possibly in situations that are much worse off than ours.

A reminder pops up, that every one of us, every single one, is exactly where they are supposed to be at any given moment.  Every single action, reaction, re-reaction, and consequence is exactly what it is supposed to be....because I know that no thing happens in this world (or any other) by mistake.  God doesn't make mistakes.  But we do.  My thought life has been fraught with self-loathing only a perfectionist would understand, and it runs so very deep.  It's hard to admit, but as I name the difficulties I have with my children, I'm thickening the idea into our shared experience.  I.e. discussing how 3 year olds are particularly difficult, only makes it more true.

Knowing that God doesn't make mistakes, does not make it any easier though, grasping at imagined perfection causes suffering.

Then there comes a feeling of calm and bliss, and sadness. I've poured myself into this job, I'm in the thick of raising these little people into reasonably functioning young adults...sometimes I've so much love I might burst or melt down molecular-ly.

As an exercise for class I'm suppose to awake with activation of I AM, but in the form of I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN, which is a semantic tool to activate memory from whence we all came. Because, in the Light of Creation there is no want, no lack, no ego suffering, there is only Love, Peace, Joy.

So, I wake this morning thoughtfully creating my "I Have Always Been..." statements.

I have always been Loving

I have always been Joyous

I have always been Peaceful

I have always been Compassionate

I have always been Empathetic---and I stopped.

Have I?

I'm reminded then of an article I read, the pediatrician that believes now that Cry It Out method damages parts of the brain that create connective empathy.

My mom would brag about how I was a Dr. Spock baby, and at the time it was the "go to" child care book, and he was a definite "cry it out" proponent.  I'm theorizing that my handicapped empathetic response (and sympathetic response) is result of "best practices" for 1977.

So, I experience empathy shortage. How to cultivate it? Rather how do I access that limitless compassion, hence empathy and sympathy, that comes from the wellspring of our innate divinity?

How indeed, because I am well aware, we are only able to accept love at our conceived level of self worth.  And truly I have not much compassion for my self, most notably when I make mistakes as a parent.  Not little every day, oops-I-packed-the-wrong-lunch mistakes, but relationship-altering, possibly-damaging-to-emerging-young-selves mistakes.

Down the rabbit hole, though the roots are thick and tangled, there is Truth hidden there. I will re-mind it.

I made the phone calls I needed to, including a couple to friends. The eldest is reading downstairs, the middle and third are sleeping.  Left to myself I know there are a multitude of things to do in order that the house is cared for, workouts to get in, crafts backed up in my little room---feeling overwhelmed a bit I know I need to sit down and write.  It's January again.

I've decided I like January, it's quiet, simple. No major go-do-gift holidays, it's nice---mostly.

As I was losing my temper with the 3yo today, I watched my reaction occur. She didn't want to nap, and history shows that the resistance to said nap is directly proportional to the necessity of the nap. She was having her standard fit about it, and I didn't handle it as well as I have in past times.  When I don't catch her initial energetic down turn, it's difficult to get her to quiet time.

Maybe it's 'cause the baby wouldn't sleep either, maybe it's 'cause I didn't get to start the errands early as I planned, maybe it was the disappointment of not getting to the gym (baby had a random fever last night)...combination of many things.  I yelled, loudly, aggressively, with intent to frighten.

And I'm sick about it.

Though I handle it better than I did with the firstborn at three, in my heart I know I can act better.

Random lamentation, caterwauling is a trigger for me. There's a memory of emotion, feeling out of control and being taught, through fear and threats, feelings needed control at ALL cost.  Slapped, slapped again and again and again, into silence.

I observe this urge to hit them into silence, until they learn to shut up, because my anger is more important than your being---it's a memory of me as a little girl.  I've realized that my hurt from the incident(s?) is the basis of the trigger.  [I remember one incident clearly: my maternal grandmother threatened to slap me with her sandal unless I stopping crying right that instant...years later she, and my mom, deny that that could've every happened, causing me to question my memory, my reality.]

I don't hit my kids, I don't want to hit my kids. When I'm depleted emotionally, physically, spiritually....The Bully in me comes out.  This bully doesn't care about feelings, doesn't care about talking, doesn't care that others have needs. This bully only cares to hurt those around her because she's forgotten how to love her self.

{---dead pause---there's a baby crying, then the doorbell rings, and my process is brought to a standstill, to be continued another day, others' needs before my own...But I'll add this silly poem I wrote}

I want to be somebody else's mommy

someone grateful and kind

someone quiet and sweet

A ghost of a child than the real one I got

I want to be somebody else's mommy

where tears don't stain our cheeks

fusses and screams aren't part of my week

where I'm not stretched to my limit of personal growth

where frustration and anger are more a bygone joke

I want to be somebody else's mommy

you are too much like me

there's so much that needs change

I'm too too imperfect you see

You deserve better than me

And I forget to be grateful

for those everyday pains

Forget that others would gladly trade spaces

Yet some days, still,

I want to be somebody's else's mommy.

And after all that, at the end of this day or any other, all I really want to hear from anyone, is "Me, too."

This Year

Last year this time we were beginning the search for another place to live, and preparing to file bankruptcy. This year, we've redefined our finances and successfully, and gratefully, been living abundantly.

This year we moved (again), and made firm decision to live in This House for the forseeable future, we are purchasing, and stretching out into the permanence of our decision. Interestingly this material permanence has produced interior growth and shifts.

This year I succeeded in homeschooling my firstborn into reading and the 4 arithmetic processes, then spring came as did the bouncing baby boy, and lots of learning for the Little-Big sister as well as the Big-Big sister.  It became painfully apparent in the fall that homeschooling wasn't serving her, my energetic resources were stretched too thin. The school we enrolled with has been a serendipitous blessing. Her favorite subjects at holiday break are handwork, eurythmy, and spanish.  Observing her this Christmastime, she's grown immensely, the space created with her attendance to Mountain Phoenix has allowed she and I to travel more parallel than crosswise.  With a whole new community to explore and connect with, she and I have had our work cut out for us---for me especially amidst learning the means and methods of brick-and-mortar school.  And I've mourned the change, still do when I come across some curriculum material.  I've fallen in love with her again, she's really a magnificent little person.  She's lost teeth, gained a new kitten and a couple of hermit crabs, gotten her ears pierced, left gymnastics, learned to knit, started soccer and is excited about volleyball.

This year, Little-Big sister, giggly in the middle, has grown into a character of comedy.  While she does push in her 3 year old way, it's been interesting watching her roll into her role.  With a break from her big sister she's grown into her own person bit by bit, has her own community of friends at MHCEC.  Lovely have been the afternoons driving to the pick up line while The Second-born is giggling herself stupid in the backseat making baby brother laugh.  It appears she's about to step up into the preschool room, quite a bit earlier than I ever considered...based on her verbal skills, her ability to use scissors, and dress herself among many other things.

This year, a beautiful baby arrived, he graced us with his presence late May and has been a complete joy.  It must be stated, boys and girls are different from the start.  As soon as he surpassed the first vague interactions, without coercing, steering, or guiding...boys are different than girls.  He has a different personality of course, but I'm noticing, what I surmise, are basic male v. female differences with development and activity and interest.  I find myself studying all little boys more closely, researching this boy-energy.  He's starting to rock, he creeps a bit, and tummy-spins and rolls about the floor loudly babbling his focus or his frustration. Already he has definite opinions about injustices of mommy needing to eat or potty-break. Gratefully he has innate patience when it's necessary to focus my attention on the ridiculous 3 year-old antics.

This year, The Man and I have succeeded in moving the household, straightening out and recommitting our responsibilities financially, getting comfortable and enjoying our community, disagreeing then agreeing, laughing and loving, redoubling our conscious parenting efforts, gracefully growing forward.  I'm so blessed to have this man as my partner in this adventure.

Happily happily into the new calendar year!

Then it was Done

All that hustle and bustle, for a few hours of mildly raucous unwrapping. The 3yo is much better at this year, the 7yo is an expert, and the baby was grunting excitement and approval at everything that pleased him.

I kept meaning to write about something, anything---there is a list next to my bed---and then I put it off in favor of seasonally necessary activities. Then days and weeks happen in a flash and I'm experiencing a creative blockage without this outlet.  I'm thinking of a new challenge for myself, possibly involving the Season for Nonviolence as we are lately, as parents, making a more unified effort to root out UNconscious parenting (or personal) habits.  More on that later.

We attended Mile Hi's Christmas Service last night, and it was moving as usual since my heart has opened much more in the past 4 years. I'm positively bursting with gratitude that we belong to such an awesome community here in Denver, I wholly love every single person of this Colorado Family.  Sometimes I think I might burst apart at my seams with bliss.

The GiggleSisters were rabid to don their holiday dresses (maybe next year we'll way until the eve of Xmas Eve to gift them). By the time we left service last night their excitement had reached a fever pitch and, while well behaved, they were barely manageable.  As the Spirit of Santa had gotten a jump on the wrapping and prep, there were very few small last minute things to arrange, and a reasonable hour was attended for the "long winter's nap".

I'm finding with our newest expansion that I've fallen deeper in love with our little (bigger) family. I'm perfectly content to hang around with these people I live with, even when they're acting in ridiculous unconscious manner.  I miss my Texas Family somethin' fierce, life keeps happening keeping us from visiting.  Truth be told, at this point, I'm more than aware with FIVE people, it's no small thing to travel and barge into someone's home.  All in good time.

Since my last post I've finished 3 knitting projects, re-set up my LOViNTee Etsy shop,, sent Christmas cards, baked some good stuff (grateful props to The Man for making Christmas dinner, though), made 12 simple gifts to give away, created Christmas magic, all while managing to care-take the household (barely, some days), handle a baby's illness, and keep the children clean, fed, and at their specified appointments....and I've prayed a LOT, and greedily snatched those still, silent moments in between all the DO-ing.  I found the durable thing within, a palpable loving Spirit that I draw upon to keep moving forward.

All is well, we are at peace, and I'm great-full and gratefully moving into the next calendar year.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

The Other Half Lives

clap happy at the pick up line

It's been two weeks now.  Back and forth, to and from, lunches in and out, over and over and over.

I struggle to understand how people actually choose this method. To say the least, I'm stretched getting used to it all, at most I'd say it suuuuucks. I would much rather homeschool in my ideal vision than truck around town 2x daily ....which led me to the novel thought, "I wonder if we really were doing it for her?"  But decisions have been made, and there are carpooling options developing.  

There have been interesting improvements in her consideration of us, especially with Second Born.  She's more affectionate to me, which, sadly, is surprising as I've become so used to being at odds with her. Given her behavior toward me I would expect she'd be ecstatic to be free of me, but that's not the case.  She's at once forcefully clingy and almost desperately affectionate in fierce short bursts.  I'm mindful to be accepting of this and gently responsive to her.  

I feel crappy that it doesn't seem to come naturally to me in my relationship to her, I don't understand this trend and am consciously attempting to heal and release it.  I could surmise it is an inherited pattern, and I'm unwittingly re-creating my childhood family dynamic as it's the only one I'm accustomed to act within.

It's difficult knowing that I (some "we," as in he too) am 49-51% the cause of her behaviors, there has to be a balance between taking total responsibility and understanding that the other half(ish) is simply in her nature. I can't tell which on a moment to moment basis, and when I've tried to keep track it drives me insane as I trend toward "it's-all-my-fault and I'm-a-sh*tty-mom".

My self-loathing knows no bounds.  Parenting an other while RE-parenting one's self is a formidable, strenuous challenge.  Some facets of this personal mirror only refract long after the fact, compounding frustration and confusion for me.

The best I can do is remain of service in love to my family, with lots of meditation, prayer, and support I know this is possible.  I helped create them, so The Divine must be challenging me to learn from them.  Do the next right thing, just keep moving forward.

Lately I'm mostly learning surrender and acceptance, or acceptance and surrender.  I hate that our lovely idyllic plan didn't pan out.  I hate that poor Miss Monkey has imperfect parents that have made so many changes in her short life it's become difficult for her to process properly.  I'm tellin' you: First-borns get the crap-end of the stick with parents that barely know what-the-frack they're doing.  

I will really enjoy one full year (minimum) with just plain life happening, no births, no deaths, no moves, and no bankruptcies/tax problems.  Come to think of it, I think she's only had one full year without major change, it was at the northern suburb house, which may explain why she has such nostalgic attachment to that place.

So, I learn. So, it goes. Gratitude, I suppose.

School to School

I am an imperfect mother.

I'm guilt ridden with totally losing my temper the morning after my last post.  At first the morning started just as the other mornings of the week, with The Firstborn in a terrible state of irritation, slamming doors, throwing things, hurling verbal insults, treating us terribly in her agitation.  And a line was crossed.  

The discussions about schooling her had already begun.  The appointments were already on the calendar, the paper work already begun.  But nothing happens without some undefined Divine Ultimate Purpose, I struggle with the guilt of my behavior regardless.

And so here we are.  My Miss Monkey started at her Waldorf (inspired) charter school today.  I was a hot mess of emotion all day.  Sending my Little Girl off into a class room with many other kids, and one Really Great Teacher---that, truly a serendipitous connection.  At this moment, I'm wondering how people do this same thing over and over again every single day.  I am wading into the fray.

I'm in mourning for our loss of freedom, though I'm grateful we've the freedom to choose what kind of school she attends.  What time it would appear I gained has been supplanted with drive time and pick-up/drop-off lines...I think it's actually a loss.

I wince inwardly every time I see the curriculum around the house.  Every time I look at my calendar with the neat-o things we were planning to attend, it pains me.  I love the Enki curriculum, and I had high hopes and plans for our year together.

I feel like a failure on so many levels, if I let it get too low I feel nauseous.

Some recent observations:

• A leader cannot exercise her leadership skills, learn to work with others, when she's the only one in the room besides the teacher (if we totally let her run the show I'm certain she would in true dictator fashion)
• It's near impossible to teach selfless, unity, and oneness with human community without a community to work within (not one 2nd grade Enki homeschooler in the area??)
• it's not supposed to be so difficult, I'm aware that when things are right, everything falls into place (the very fact that there are so many Mile Hi'ers in her class is part'n' parcel to the rightness)
• unacceptable behavior is unacceptable no matter who it's coming from
• when asking for help, and the answer is undeniably clear, it would be an affront to divine nature to ignore such a gift no matter how uncomfortable the change may be

It's late, I'm sleepy, and sad, and scared, and anxious, and pensive....and reaching yet another, new level of acceptance and surrendering my will.

2nd grade, second First Day of School

We're doing something wrong, or by wrong I mean not enough of some thing that would support this little girl. 

And I'm at a loss.  I feel depleted and wonder if I've failed her some how, effed up the groundwork in her early years to have created these problems myself.  49-51% nurture v. nature on any given day, or at any given moment.  

When she and I do connect it's with a weird oppositional intensity that I don't really like participating with, and so recently have made progress at not participating.  But then I'm challenged redefining our connection 'cause I barely know what it should look and feel like. Firstborns really get the crap end of the stick, no?

While our lessons are thus far moving easily, it's only been a week, I suspect it's quite possibly solely because once she's completed it she gets to move on to whatever she likes, and lately I'm worthless in enforcing natural consequences much much later---and she knows I'm impotent as far as consequences.  Other than keeping her in indefinitely (punishing myself), I really have none.  I'm certainly not about to start beating her into submission.

I'm weary of being her target for insults and whatever she wants to physically hurl at me (yesterday it was a shredded tortilla, it's been a turtle, a book, anything within reach and within her momentarily limited reason). I really dislike hate her behavior, and feel that whatever consequences do crop up aren't enough 'cause the behaviors only seem to have patterned out.  There's little to no respect of my simple requests, and she'll effectively ignore me unless there's something in it for her.

So, is there something amiss with her functionality?  we wouldn't know as we've never had her assessed by  trained professionals.  This is a big concern if she's in a federally funded school, I don't want her intensity and big energy mistaken for some affliction-of-the-moment.  And I certainly don't want these attributes "educated" out of her.

I know I've got rose colored lenses on what we could  do with homeschooling, how rainbow mermaids, starry unicorns, and magical butterflies simply flock to our lovely soft-glowing house where gnomes and fairies reside and we leap and dance through a garden of mystical wildflowers....ppffffttt.

I peruse the possibilities, the questions and answers on the Enki support page. All the available information and I'm overwhelmed, feeling that I can't give her enough to fully support her development at this stage.  My energies are too divided.  I feel like if I'm struggling then I must be doing it wrong, it shouldn't be so emotionally draining.  It feels to me that with her behaviors she's asking for more.  More of what though?

It is possible that my discomfort is due to some inward shift, or combination of shifts hormonal (hair falling out) and otherwise.  I'm again at a loss as to how to sort my self out lacking time and solitude required.

Some kids go in and out of school, home schooling off and on as their needs change. It's not really fair to her siblings as she dominates time and energy, keeping us all guessing at what her next freak-out will be.  It's exhausting and we, I, need to widen the circle, get more support.

We're meeting with our L&L guru and Reverend this week. The only school I'd consider sending her into has an opening in 2nd grade classroom, and it's the only opening they have (local Waldorf charter).

I refuse to spend time in "what if" zone, it's a waste of precious resources, not to mention useless and pointless.  

In tears, I pray to listen, pray to hear, and pray for guidance.

"We be the best we can be in the moment. And we live with grace." 

~ Rachelmartin.blogspot.com

Post-Kenpo, soccer uniform pick up, a line of people in the waning heat of late summer, mostly accompanied by children, who, given the hour, may or may not have eaten dinner.  The kids group about, two games of tag are being played, then one Duck-Duck-Goose! and one Tag.  Chatting amicably with a young nanny, baby's falling asleep in the sling.  My turn at the table, I call my child over to try on a jersey, at first there's a lite resistance as she was playing intently...then IT begins, because there are only 10 girls on her team, and her only choice is between number 23 or number 12.

We'd had a discussion about color, team colors are green and white, only green and white.  There had been a brief discussion about numbers, that she wouldn't get to pick a number as we hadn't pre-ordered.

Apparently it wasn't enough.  

But really, who would predict that a discrepancy of numbers would send a 7 year old into a raging fit?

I can't even remember everything that was said.  The hate-filled ugliness screeching from her mouth, confusion about how team uniforms are numbered exacerbated by lack of food, and a long active day.  I eventually ran out of verbal tools, gratefully it was the same time I completed writing out the check, I called the Second Born and we moved First Born drama short distance to the parking lot.

I am grateful I didn't do anything to feel ashamed.  For me, her behavior was somewhat embarrassing, though I've come to care less and less about what others think.  At some point I mentioned she was embarrassing herself---a flicker of doubt crossed her face, but then I guess she figured she'd already committed to the tantrum so publicly, she may as well go all in.  And I do mean all in.  

"I will not speak to you again until you've eaten something and you're calm."

After moving her seat back between the younger two (as I can't be expected to drive safely while there's anyone fr-eak-ing the eff out in my passenger seat) I had to buckle her in.  She woke her brother with her shrieking and caterwauling though eventually helped him with his paci.

"I think you shouldn't speak again either, until you've eaten and  you're calm."

We made it home.  With a call ahead The Man had prepped simple dinner for them.  They got fed and then even had story at bedtime.

I'm completely wrung out.  We had such a good week, to end with such crap...it's just really really disappointing.  I've sadness, anger, and feeling weary.  It's these behaviors that 'cause me to think she should be in brick & mortar school, or that there's something amiss with her functionality.  But I know that giving in to her crazed states would only create more tantrums in the future.  Now delayed consequences loom in the coming week, because my energy has been completely drained.

All this after a standard three year old tantrum 'cause I wanted to listen to the Broncos game recap/analysis instead of Wheels On The Bus.

So, aforementioned Ms. Martin is dead on---Carry on Brave Mother.

Rainbow days

After a storm there are rainbows. I had several phone calls and a

surprise visit from The Man, I took small actions toward
mitigating the chaos, and started to feel better. That momentum built
a good finish to the day and into the next. Amazing how prayer works, even simply in the asking for help there is peace.
There were no giant altercations betwixt the girls, the baby was
typical happy baby, and I got some more done with the house. I forget that effectively we just moved in. Moving, remodeling, requires patience of process.

Grateful for the dojo as an added accountability for The Firstborn and her behavior.

Grateful on the way home this evening we chased a rainbow. F was so excited trying to figure out how to reach the end of that rainbow, I thoroughly enjoyed discussing strategy with her, negotiating where we should turn or of it was fading.

 Grateful for puzzle time with the Second born and soccer time with her sister, grateful for my ability to feed my baby and share my milk, most of all grateful for the abundance we love and live in.

Truly, Life is good, ALL The Time.

When simplifying is simply overwhelming

I can't get up, he's been Really Fussy yesterday and today. 

I'm going to try to move in a moment, cause the prospect of spending another day staring at chaos only adds to my weariness.

Its all so overwhelming, I've asked for help, and I'm going to start by doing a little, not a lot. Luck and faith on my side I hope.

When it's overwhelming....

Ask. For. Help.

Sibling jealousy

Who would want to harm this sweet baby?

Well, She would. ---->

I've stepped away briefly to grab clothing or my phone, and she's pushed the limits--especially mine.  Its hard to rein in a mama-bear reaction hearing an infant scream, even if it's focused on another of my own children. 

One morning i caught her BANGING her sister's baby doll on the kitchen table.  She is apparently jealous and expresses herself, "I'm feeling sad/mad about the baby" or "i don't WANT the baby on your lap/nursing!". 

We need to edit in some extra anger outlets it seems (into my subroutines as well?).  She colored an Angry Picture yesterday after the most recent incident. Doesn't help me feel any more confident abut leaving her with him even if he's in the crib, even if its for an instant.  "Ah, mi. Patience!" Cries the mother.

This is just one day, one of many that have passed and that will come.  This particular day we're lucky to survive. On another day all will be most evidently well with all facets, giggles will abound and happiness doesn't disguise itself with challenges. 

Feeling pretty weary at the moment. Breathe,  pray, repeat.

Consequences

I suppose this is my comeuppance for her chosen consequences from last weekends' utter atomic melt down tantrum. 

She only just started to feel the reality of her choice to not play with little friends all week. The other choice was to stay home and work with her Papa all day Saturday, skipping a birthday party.  We only came to the conclusion of giving her a choice after almost an hours' deliberation. In addition to that choice, she had to clean up the great mess she made of her sister's bed and their room, AND she's yet to figure out how to pay Ms. J for her impromptu sittering service.  

I'm indebted to that lovely woman for backing me up when I needed to get out.  All mamas should have an emergency phone-a-friend.

First Born & Parental Regret

Last night I read some pieces from a baby specific journal I've been keeping for the past 8 years.  Eight because it includes notes from ladies and mommas from my baby showers.  From the Firstborn through to last night I've been keeping as good a record as possible for Babies' Firsts and familial Banner Days.

This morning I came across a short video of Miss Monkey on her 3rd birthday....and it hurt.  Touched a sore spot I didn't know I had.  First time parent trying so hard to get it right.  Though it was apparent through my journal notes I had an awareness of the miraculous, I had yet to soak in it, to apply the mystic concepts of parenthood, i.e. limitless compassion, respecting the miracle, and unconditional loving with abandon.

So, to my firstborn daughter:  

I love you, so very much, I wanted so badly to make a good "first impression" with you, on your little life.  My regret looking back, I could've done better, faster.  We do the best we can with what we have, and I had already come much farther from my origin.  Though it hasn't been perfect by my definition, I can have faith that it's perfect in God's way.  One day you will surely understand, and from here, though there will still be some mistakes, I will do better by you, love.

And to my Self:  

It's okay, dear Ada, it's okay.  It's All, All Right in the end.   Just Keep Loving Forward.

Miss Monkey, 4 years ago

just a few days ago

Sweet grunts and squeaks, a fluffle-snort like a foal, chuffs and complaints, man-burps and butt noises, latch-snmacking while nursing, shrill squ-whistles on the inhale when suffering injustices of baby hood...this boy is noisey.  His voice is beginning to change into a baby cry from the newborn's signature lament, and it sounds a lot like E's tone and timber.  His choking and coughing at my let-down reflex, and his simple existent noisey-ness reminiscent of F.  But he is his own.  I know there are similarities, there should be, they are siblings.  But he is his a new unique instance.  

As a sleepy, sleepy baby, he takes a good long time grunting, stretching, and fluffling before he's fully awake.  Something I've had to ask the girls to "please, oh, please, do NOT disturb your brother until he's really awake!"  He's getting used to the crib by degrees, and I do enjoy a few hours sleeping 'alone'.  Co-sleeping has great advantages regards to bonding and easy access breastfeeding, I attribute his stellar weight gain partly to the co-sleeping.  What Mama would refuse opportunity to gaze at sleeping newborn? cuddled up and cozy? None, I say.  Since I heard a comic quip that babies don't sleep, I'm gaining new meaning for "sleep like a baby." It's that best sleep, the warm, safe, and loved sleep. Sleep that we all cherish and should be more sacred I think.  

A couple of weeks ago in his eyes there was fleeting vague recognition of his existence here, a brief connection when I looked into these deep blues.  Now, such a short time later, he's truly connecting with us.  Giving sweet new smiles by turn, and coo-ing in that magical new baby tone.

He's a standard issue miracle.  I'm so blessed to have three of these, and so, so grateful.

one was already awake

3 AM

Three o'clock in the morning, or thereabouts.  Just finished a double-nursing/double-diaper-change session, and I'm left wide awake and thinking.

It's these times in the dark quiet listening to breathing noises that I've blog ideas rattling around my mind.  I might pray some, meditate, last night, though, I had to get up and put ideas down on paper so as not to forget them by morning.

There are three now, three people we created out of irreducibly complex cells...well we, and The Divine.  Interesting that we can scientifically describe all the processes, and yet we cannot really define HOW it works.

Some questions and comments lately as I'm wearing baby around herding t'other two:

How old is your baby?  1.5 months 

Wow, you're brave!

Really? I guess I don't consider myself especially courageous doing simply what needs to be done. Besides, if we tried to stay in until there was some comfort level, we might end up at such odds it'd be tragically comical.  And it's rather a lack of options.  Though mostly I simply chuckle and answer, "May be."

Is he a good baby? (mostly from the elder crew)

Well, now, ALL babies are good.  If you mean is he a good sleeper, then yes, mostly.  In regards to elders, I've also had most interesting conversations about circumcision especially with older ladies.

Is it different having a boy?

Not, really.  Its different equipment to work around, I've been pee'd on a bit here and there. I used to say it often, but now I've proof: babies are pretty androgynous.  It's how we treat them that matters regarding sex/gender.

How is it with Three?  Is it hard?

Not as challenging as going from 1 to 2.  We've switched to zone coverage instead of man-to-man (though I kinda feel like I've been doing zone coverage since E was born). Generally speaking the two are entertaining each other while I'm with the baby.  Or they're fighting and I've had them confined to quarters, hands-to-themselves-stay-on-your-bed, then I do my level best to ignore whatever I over hear. ("Sounds like you're having a problem, let me know if you need some options to work it out!"  Ultimately life is only as hard as we make it.  And my children are not inconvenient or a problem, they are my life's main work.  They are blessings.

Love only grows, especially when it's allowed to.  For myself it's actually easier now to notice and comment on positives with the girls---my conscious being present has enhanced.  It may be that my time at a premium has forced me into a more practical place with prioritizing on all levels.  I'm extremely grateful not to live in a constant state of dramatic enactment of "OMG there are THREE."  Just keep moving forward, willingly and joyfully doing the next right thing...and some days a whole lot of prayer and mindfulness practice!

Good nights and interesting nights.  Last night was interesting.  Today we are all tired, and so on emotional ragged edges.

I get up and in the quiet breakfast moments while baby is still sleeping and kids are eating, I have a great idea to post here.

THEN while 'puter is open I skype my mom, clear my inbox, check the calendar.  Baby is awake and so begins the diaper-nurse-nurse-diaper-play/sleep pattern.

Someone bigger has a fit 'cause her cardboard project isn't working out exactly that way she wanted.

Then the beds need to be made prompting a fit from the smaller one.

Like I said, the raggedy emotional edges this morning from sleep lacking in the past few long summer days, topped off by last night's severe storm warning and baby brother fuss-fuss-fussing nigh on 2 hours.

It'll be an interesting day....and whatever creative inspiration I had, flitted out the window with the daily operation.  *BIG sigh*

So it goes. All is well when I remember....

Week In, Week Out

The last week of March I spent in a low-grade-fever-haze of coughing, hacking, peeing, and packing the house.  I would never, ever wish that on any woman. Ever.  Somehow I've attracted an impressively busy situation yet again, it seems that when we're in a state of change it can't be simple.  

So, I released Miss Monkey (and myself) from all her homeschool obligations 'cause it was just too too daunting a task to add into packing.  The girls spent their days mostly indoors (sad) simply playing among the chaotic stacks of stuff in/out of boxes.  They made it play though, with collages, mommy-baby doll outings, and lots of other imaginative play.

Mid-week there was a crisis from a mistake I made in a quasi-feverish, pregnant haze while half asleep early the morning before movers were to arrive.  Which moving company called to confirm and pre-authorize our card?  I found out a bit later it was the wrong moving company.  I spent a few hours in a panic, coughing and crying at some random grocery until the situation mostly resolved.

The right movers came, we hauled most clothing and food to Miss J's basement---we are blessed with yet another beneficent lady opening her home to us.  Expecting up to a 3 week stay in a frenetic Rocky Mountain spring creates logistical packing nightmare.  Installed at her place I can rest after the townhouse had been cleaned.  Incredibly grateful for momma friends who cared to come help for a few hours at a time.

Then Easter, we spent at church, simple egg hunt, and dinner with our hostess....and short stints of napping that I might really begin healing the illness I'd been fighting.

The first week of April we spent in some discussion regarding the land lady's apparent resistance to returning our deposit.  Part of me wants to give her a seriously insulting, possibly profanity laced, piece of my mind....the Higher Conscious part of me knows that it's sad she mayn't have the money, it's even sadder that maybe she feels a need to lie, grasp, and live in sustained personal fear.  Part of me wants to take her to small claims court, t'other part knows that it might use more resources than it would provide.  And so we await her decision.  As I type that, I've some visceral irritation at being beholden to someone whom I, we, trusted. I suppose the hurt I'm experiencing is from betrayal, because that's what it is, a betrayal of our efforts and of our honesty.  Then I pray it out, give a heavy sigh, and let go....again and again.

As we settled back into our routine here at Miss J's, the little girls mostly adjusted, but obviously would prefer we were at home.  As it turned out the tenant, when really threatened with proper eviction proceedings, bailed earlier than expected.  The Floor Guys have been working at our house for almost a week, and we expect to camp out in stocking-feet by Friday!  The movers are back to add furniture the following day, and I'll be setting up proper household for the next few days weeks months....but without a prospect that we'll have to move in a year or two, it's much more comforting.  It'll be some hyper-nesting happening as we approach the month of due date for Baby.

I'm proud to notice my growth during this process.  Accepting what I couldn't change, allowing the Littles to be little without expectations, and accepting help when it was offered.  Really, that last bit is incredible.  It takes a lot of growth to show vulnerability, to acknowledge that I need it and to accept help when it's offered.  Watch me grow! 

Miracles are simply the unburying and the 

unleashing of God's already-given good.

- Dr. Roger W. Teel