Song: "Ophelia," by Natalie Merchant.
Motherhood is not for the faint-hearted. It is a crash-course in letting go, in giving up all control. The most beautiful experience in life is, logically, also the most difficult, the most heartwrenching. It is hardest for those of us who have been blessed with free-spirited children.... children who are prone to doing all of the discovering for themselves. Children like my Ari. She is lovely, but she is also reckless. She runs through life, as I do. She did not inherit that trait (i.e. rushing) from her father. Ari gets into trouble all the time. She hurts herself by trying to do things too quickly, and it is so frustrating to be a helpless witness. I tell her to slow down, to be careful.. all the time. But there is only so much I can do.
Her toddler-years are serving to prepare me for the harder years, the years of the real growing-up, with its decision-making.. What will I do then?? Step back, yes. That is what mothers must learn to do eventually. But how?? When we love them so much.
Another challenge is peer-pressure. On Momversation.com, the issue of "mommy wars" was recently discussed. The term is a little dramatic, perhaps, but it is true that mothers don´t mother alone, and for some reason, we can´t keep our ideas to ourselves. (hence the multitude of mommy-bloggers.) Our mothering choices, no matter how trivial, are always up for grabs; fair game for warfare. Or at least we think they are. Well, maybe those of us who think that these mommy-wars actually exist only constitute about 5 % of the entire mom-population. Those of us who frequent mothering-websites, mommy-blogs... We put ourselves up for trial. Self-justification?? Reassurance? There might actually be an easier way to do this. Some women might not care at all what the next mother thinks about attachment-parenting, or, say, using boiled water to sterilize bottles and such, versus tablets. Or maybe they don´t even think about those things. Do we care too much??? Are we too self-conscious in our parenting??
You see, the other day, Ari and I were walking through the mall....well, I was walking, and she was chillin´in her stroller... but, anyway, I decided to stop in the candy-store. Just because I could. I think it was the smell of the popcorn. I thought, "what the heck, we can and we will!"
Disappointed with the poor selection of black licorice, I nonetheless bought 60 cents worth of candy and decided Ari should try a piece. So, I handed my child her very first piece of candy. She has eaten other junk before, such as a chip, or a cookie, and ice-cream, but this was her first real candy. I gave her a soft banana-marshmallow. Covered in yellow sugar. She was delighted with it, of course. But all I could think as we made our way through the mall, was "What do they think of me??" The other mothers. A silly thing to worry about here in Spain, because Spanish kids are stuffed with sugar from a very young age. The lady at our video-store has been eager to give Ari a lollipop since she was about a year old, and frowns in pity when I say "No, thanks, she is too young..." But, I did worry. I also worried about the small bruises on Ari´s legs. "What if they think I am a bad mother??" The poor child is so marked by her recklessness. But the worries are so often directed toward the other mothers- universally- instead of toward my child herself. And, to give myself some credit, Ari really doesn´t seem too concerned about her scars and bumps and bruises. She learned the lesson before me: growing up is almost synonymous with falling, and hurting oneself. And, in the end, my children should be the first ones to defend or criticize my motherhood.
My second daughter is a kicker! Ari did her fair share of kicking and elbowing and punching, too, while in the womb, but her little sister is much more active. I feel her moving all the time. Perhaps she sees it as her one chance at getting my attention. "If mama won´t pay attention to me when I´m floating around calmly, I will just have to bounce against that underbelly!"
Nah...I know. But it did cross my mind, that at some subconscious level, this child is having to be very lively in the womb so that I will actually pay attention to her.
Ari really didn´t kick and punch so much. I felt her moving from time to time, and there were moments of incessant activity, but not this consistently. It didn´t foreshadow her postnatal behavior in the least, however. She was a fairly calm baby, but she is the most active (hyper, perhaps) of toddlers. So, there is no saying what this next daughter will turn out to be.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Little Miss Chaotic
"Beautiful Child," by Rufus Wainwright.
Ari has had a rough day. She accompanied me as I had to go teach a couple of teenagers English. We drove home right at her nap-time (1 PM), and, naturally, she fell asleep in the car. I tried to distract her for a while, sang silly songs, but gave up as I saw her exhausted little eyes. When Ari falls asleep in the car on the way home, there is NO use in trying to put her down for a nap at home. It never works. And an Ari without a decent nap, is like an Eef without food. We become ugly and mean.
So, she has been running around like a headless chicken, bumping her head on every surface in this house, tripping over her little toy-strollers, throwing HORRID fits of rage, kicking and screaming...
I tried to put her down for a late afternoon nap, but she refused. She cried and screamed till her voice was hoarse...she kicked and flailed her arms. I held her (well, I tried), I sang for her, and nothing worked. Instead, she begged to go downstairs again. She played for a few hours, interrupted every 10 minutes by an accident, a run-in with the furniture..
Finally, five minutes ago, she crashed. I carried her upstairs, and although I knew that she would protest some more, I was convinced that this was it. I was right: she cried for a few minutes, but then fell heavily asleep. At a most inconvenient hour. This is dinner-time. Timing could not be worse. A late afternoon nap would have been acceptable: she would still have time to wake up, eat, and have a bath before her bed-time of 8 o´clock.
But there was no keeping her awake. So, she´ll nap until she´s hungry. I am hoping she will return to sleep a full night after this interruption.
Obviously, I have crashed, too. I plopped myself down onto the couch and decided to rant about the last few tedious hours.
Mothering is still so ruled by timing: even as Ari has entered toddlerhood. It is still a matter of reading the signals....it has just become more straight-forward, in some ways; I know Ari much better now than I did when she was crawling around. Flashback (July 2008):
I do struggle with this:
doing what I know is best for her when she wants something else (and fights for it). She had such a meltdown today.... several meltdowns, in fact. I wanted to fix it for her. I wanted to take the easy way out.. But I also knew that she needed to settle down in the quiet of her room. So, I put her in her bed while she kicked and screamed. I waited outside her door, wondered if I should go back in and "rescue" her, but the crying ended. Just as I had predicted. She didn´t need my hugs, or a snack, or diversion. Sleep was the only remedy.
Ari has had a rough day. She accompanied me as I had to go teach a couple of teenagers English. We drove home right at her nap-time (1 PM), and, naturally, she fell asleep in the car. I tried to distract her for a while, sang silly songs, but gave up as I saw her exhausted little eyes. When Ari falls asleep in the car on the way home, there is NO use in trying to put her down for a nap at home. It never works. And an Ari without a decent nap, is like an Eef without food. We become ugly and mean.
So, she has been running around like a headless chicken, bumping her head on every surface in this house, tripping over her little toy-strollers, throwing HORRID fits of rage, kicking and screaming...
I tried to put her down for a late afternoon nap, but she refused. She cried and screamed till her voice was hoarse...she kicked and flailed her arms. I held her (well, I tried), I sang for her, and nothing worked. Instead, she begged to go downstairs again. She played for a few hours, interrupted every 10 minutes by an accident, a run-in with the furniture..
Finally, five minutes ago, she crashed. I carried her upstairs, and although I knew that she would protest some more, I was convinced that this was it. I was right: she cried for a few minutes, but then fell heavily asleep. At a most inconvenient hour. This is dinner-time. Timing could not be worse. A late afternoon nap would have been acceptable: she would still have time to wake up, eat, and have a bath before her bed-time of 8 o´clock.
But there was no keeping her awake. So, she´ll nap until she´s hungry. I am hoping she will return to sleep a full night after this interruption.
Obviously, I have crashed, too. I plopped myself down onto the couch and decided to rant about the last few tedious hours.
Mothering is still so ruled by timing: even as Ari has entered toddlerhood. It is still a matter of reading the signals....it has just become more straight-forward, in some ways; I know Ari much better now than I did when she was crawling around. Flashback (July 2008):
I do struggle with this:
doing what I know is best for her when she wants something else (and fights for it). She had such a meltdown today.... several meltdowns, in fact. I wanted to fix it for her. I wanted to take the easy way out.. But I also knew that she needed to settle down in the quiet of her room. So, I put her in her bed while she kicked and screamed. I waited outside her door, wondered if I should go back in and "rescue" her, but the crying ended. Just as I had predicted. She didn´t need my hugs, or a snack, or diversion. Sleep was the only remedy.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Little Women
I am 18 weeks and 1 day along in the pregnancy. We had the ultrasound yesterday and discovered that, what else?, we are having another little girl! We think it will be great fun for Ari, and it is nice not to have to buy a whole bunch of boy´s clothes. This is the 5th granddaughter (in a row) on my side of the family!!!! Daniel managed to get a few hours off from work, so he came along to see the ultrasound. That was a huge relief for me. All the organs seemed to be functioning fine. We´re grateful. Ari thought it was all quite exciting. This time around, she didn´t scream at all. Instead, she pointed at my belly, said "baby," and pointed at the baby´s toes on the screen. Daniel tried to explain that there was a baby in mama´s belly (however strange that must be to a child). But he made a good point when I asked him whether we should mention the baby to Ari at all: at her age, she can still accept pretty much any information...her perception of logic is still very broad. It may seem more normal to her now than it would to a 5-year old. So, we told her, and she poked at my belly and said, in the sweetest of voices, "ooooh, baby".
When she joined me for the first ultrasound, she screamed uncontrollably. This time, I think it really helped that she had her papa there to explain things and to keep her calm. She was delightfully chatty: the nurse and the ultrasound-technician were quite taken with her.
Needless to say, we walked away without a photo. But we were delighted to know that everything was alright, and that Ari´s going to have a little baby-sister.
She (Sjoerdje #5) kicks a lot. I have started to feel the kicks much more clearly, and it makes the whole experience of pregnancy more real for me.
That´s it for now. Oh, did I mention that I have been borrowing a car? This new freedom and mobility is wonderful. I am continuously trying to think of an excuse to get in the car and drive for a while. It is addictive. I will suffer greatly when I have to return it to its owner.
Daniel will just have to buy me one! HA! For our 3-year wedding anniversary (tomorrow!) perhaps??? hint, hint.
When she joined me for the first ultrasound, she screamed uncontrollably. This time, I think it really helped that she had her papa there to explain things and to keep her calm. She was delightfully chatty: the nurse and the ultrasound-technician were quite taken with her.
Needless to say, we walked away without a photo. But we were delighted to know that everything was alright, and that Ari´s going to have a little baby-sister.
She (Sjoerdje #5) kicks a lot. I have started to feel the kicks much more clearly, and it makes the whole experience of pregnancy more real for me.
That´s it for now. Oh, did I mention that I have been borrowing a car? This new freedom and mobility is wonderful. I am continuously trying to think of an excuse to get in the car and drive for a while. It is addictive. I will suffer greatly when I have to return it to its owner.
Daniel will just have to buy me one! HA! For our 3-year wedding anniversary (tomorrow!) perhaps??? hint, hint.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Oh, the Places She´ll Go....
Musica: "Planets," by the lovely Kate Rusby.
Ari has decided that she is old enough to take off her diapers herself. All the time. It was funny at first, but I am starting to get a little bit tired of changing her wet sheets every morning, and of putting her matress out to dry. It makes sense, of course, with the heat and all... she is much more comfortable this way. I let her run around and sleep in her diaper....but it´s not cool enough, apparently :-) I fear she will have to learn the hard way: by wearing onesies, losing the privilige to run around like Mowgli. She actually does look a bit like Mowgli: my parents were the first ones to point out the resemblance. Something about her wild hair, the wild stare in her eyes.
Perhaps she was meant to run among the trees, surrounded by animals, gnomes, and forest-elves.
The terrible two´s have started....early. Ari throws random fits, especially when we put her in her high chair, or in the car seat. These are trying times!!!!
But she is also the most "gezellig" toddler the world has ever seen; she entertains everyone & has such a contagious cheerfulness. She´s a talker (like Mama): knows most people & things by name. She´s in such a hurry to change, to grow up, and to explore the world. Dr.Seuss comes to mind (hence the title of this post). I wonder where she´ll go; where life will take her. Far, probably.
It is strange to think that our next child might be, and most possibly will be, completely different from his/her older sister. Ari is our reference point; we´ve adjusted our parenting-style to her specific needs and character. I can hardly imagine having a quiet toddler, a shy baby. Ari was a calm baby, but she has always been an extravert. If this next child happens to be quiet and introverted, we are going to have to make an effort to help him/her come out from under Ari´s shadow. I have a feeling that she will always have a tendency to be the center of attention; it is not necessarily a negative quality, but we will have to do our best to let this new baby share the spotlight with her, even if he/she doesn´t demand it. Who knows what the family-dynamics will be. We will be different parents, in some aspects... to both of the children.
I am actually starting to get very excited about becoming a family of four. Surely, we are a family already, but it is so exhilarating that a new life will soon join our little circle, and change our world.
The critical ultrasound is coming up: the one that will confirm the baby´s gender (while we accept the possibility of an erroneous "reading"), and that will examine the baby´s organs.
Daniel might be forced to miss it, as his summer-job demands that he be present. The thought of going by myself really bothers me. But then again, a LOT bothers me about having my check-ups in Spain... just to name a few things:
*the fact that I meet a different doctor at every check-up.
*the fact that ultrasounds can only be done in the morning, making it difficult for my husband to be present.
*the fact that they ignore that pregnancy is an exciting thing....the check-ups are VERY impersonal and over-medicalized. (forget the idea of walking away with a photo of the baby in hand!)
and, finally, the inefficiency! I called the hospital yesterday, in a final attempt to reschedule my ultrasound... to allow Daniel to be there to see his baby. I emphasized my wish to reschedule for an evening appointment, and the administrative staff-member assured me that it would be possible as long as I would go to the hospital to request the change in person. So, I drove* to the hospital in high hopes... Having arrived there, however, the nurse said that all ultrasounds are done in the morning. Another wasted trip. I can´t remember how often I have had to deal with similar contradictory information.
This is a sensitive subject, as I am sure you´ve noticed.
*I am very glad to be borrowing a friend´s car. I so welcome the freedom of driving myself & Ari around.
It seems to be cooler outside today. Reason enough to smile brightly. And then there is sweet Aribou; she is brushing my hair and saying "mooi" (pretty)..
Ari has decided that she is old enough to take off her diapers herself. All the time. It was funny at first, but I am starting to get a little bit tired of changing her wet sheets every morning, and of putting her matress out to dry. It makes sense, of course, with the heat and all... she is much more comfortable this way. I let her run around and sleep in her diaper....but it´s not cool enough, apparently :-) I fear she will have to learn the hard way: by wearing onesies, losing the privilige to run around like Mowgli. She actually does look a bit like Mowgli: my parents were the first ones to point out the resemblance. Something about her wild hair, the wild stare in her eyes.
Perhaps she was meant to run among the trees, surrounded by animals, gnomes, and forest-elves.
The terrible two´s have started....early. Ari throws random fits, especially when we put her in her high chair, or in the car seat. These are trying times!!!!
But she is also the most "gezellig" toddler the world has ever seen; she entertains everyone & has such a contagious cheerfulness. She´s a talker (like Mama): knows most people & things by name. She´s in such a hurry to change, to grow up, and to explore the world. Dr.Seuss comes to mind (hence the title of this post). I wonder where she´ll go; where life will take her. Far, probably.
It is strange to think that our next child might be, and most possibly will be, completely different from his/her older sister. Ari is our reference point; we´ve adjusted our parenting-style to her specific needs and character. I can hardly imagine having a quiet toddler, a shy baby. Ari was a calm baby, but she has always been an extravert. If this next child happens to be quiet and introverted, we are going to have to make an effort to help him/her come out from under Ari´s shadow. I have a feeling that she will always have a tendency to be the center of attention; it is not necessarily a negative quality, but we will have to do our best to let this new baby share the spotlight with her, even if he/she doesn´t demand it. Who knows what the family-dynamics will be. We will be different parents, in some aspects... to both of the children.
I am actually starting to get very excited about becoming a family of four. Surely, we are a family already, but it is so exhilarating that a new life will soon join our little circle, and change our world.
The critical ultrasound is coming up: the one that will confirm the baby´s gender (while we accept the possibility of an erroneous "reading"), and that will examine the baby´s organs.
Daniel might be forced to miss it, as his summer-job demands that he be present. The thought of going by myself really bothers me. But then again, a LOT bothers me about having my check-ups in Spain... just to name a few things:
*the fact that I meet a different doctor at every check-up.
*the fact that ultrasounds can only be done in the morning, making it difficult for my husband to be present.
*the fact that they ignore that pregnancy is an exciting thing....the check-ups are VERY impersonal and over-medicalized. (forget the idea of walking away with a photo of the baby in hand!)
and, finally, the inefficiency! I called the hospital yesterday, in a final attempt to reschedule my ultrasound... to allow Daniel to be there to see his baby. I emphasized my wish to reschedule for an evening appointment, and the administrative staff-member assured me that it would be possible as long as I would go to the hospital to request the change in person. So, I drove* to the hospital in high hopes... Having arrived there, however, the nurse said that all ultrasounds are done in the morning. Another wasted trip. I can´t remember how often I have had to deal with similar contradictory information.
This is a sensitive subject, as I am sure you´ve noticed.
*I am very glad to be borrowing a friend´s car. I so welcome the freedom of driving myself & Ari around.
It seems to be cooler outside today. Reason enough to smile brightly. And then there is sweet Aribou; she is brushing my hair and saying "mooi" (pretty)..
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Emo
Song: "All that you can´t leave behind," by U2.
Last week, I went to see the West Side Story, along with my mother-in-law, aunt-in-law, and cousin-in-law. It was grand. I so wished I could be up there, dancing and singing and acting. I wished I were a Broadway star. The stage was beautifully located next to the Manzanares river, with the palace on its left, and the trees of Madrid's Casa de Campo on its right. The moon seemed to belong to the set. There were massive photographs of Manhattan in the '50s, and I sang along (quietly, of course) to the familiar tunes of the show. "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight." I imagined how fabulous it must be to sing into the city, to hear one's voice spread across the river and into the halls of the royal palace.
I'm glad my baby got to enjoy a show ;-) Ari "attended" a Josh Groban concert before her birth, and traveled to England&Scotland; her sibling deserved at least one similar outing of her/his own. Hopefully, he/she will get to do some pre-birth traveling in August, as well.
It has taken me about one whole year to feel the weight of parenthood. For all the trouble that people associate with caring for a newborn, Ari's infancy was definitely the easy "bit" for me. There were no baby-blues, no post-partum depression of any sort. On the contrary, I felt like I was on top of the world for that entire first year. Motherhood was the most thrilling & fulfilling thing. This second year has been harder. I finally understand why mothers (especially stay-at-home mothers) struggle with their new identity and task. This is not some kind of lament, or horror-story. Not at all. I have just come to the (frustrating) realization that perhaps I, too, need to be more than just a mama. I thought motherhood would be enough for me. At least for a good while. It gave me such a sense of fulfillment and self-worth. But the thought of recovering the "other me" is starting to itch. I feel the urge to express myself creatively, to pursue my other interests. In fact, I finally remember that I actually have interests beyond motherhood.
I didn't think I was that kind of mother. It has taken me a while to realize that that kind of a mother doesn't exist. And if she does, eventually she will inevitably feel the need to be "more" than just a mother. Motherhood may seem like a big bubble for a while, and it certainly revolutionizes one's life, but it is bound to burst at some point.
This is a discussion of the "mother as a person" problem, and the guilt that comes along with it. Now that I am no longer singing my way through every day, no longer raving about how changing diapers and being with my daughter is enough for me, I want to be open about the harder side of mommying. It started several months ago; I lost some of my enthusiasm for caring for my daughter. She still brightened my days with her silly behavior, with her beautiful smile, and her intelligence.....but I started to wish I could have other skills, or other interests.. I wanted to find the next goal. And it made me feel so darn guilty. I thought to myself: "how could I possibly want to spend an hour away from Ari!??"
But I've learned, mainly through conversations with other mothers (including my own ;-) ), that pursuing other interests & developing my identity (beyond motherhood) does not turn me into a bad or selfish mother. On the contrary, it should help me to be a better mother.
"If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy..." It is so true. How can I invest in Arianna if I am an empty shell of a woman? I can try to focus all of my energies on her.... to let her life be life enough for me. But that won't be enough for either of us.
I recently discussed this issue with another mother (of a girl of Ari's age). While I didn't particularly understand her mothering-mentality (i.e. the fact that her daughter goes to the daycare full-time 5 days a week, while the mother doesn't work), she made a good point: children benefit from parents who live fulfilling lives of their own. In other words, if my life revolves solely around Arianna, that will inevitably put tremendous pressure on her.
This is another story about balance, then.
It is tough...I feel quite guilty toward this new baby already. For one, I haven´t been so ecstatic during this pregnancy. And then there is the issue of my plan to be a part-time working mother during his/her young life. Ari has been priviliged to have had my undivided attention for the first two years of her life. I think it has been healthy for her... but I also know that I need to do things differently next year. For my sake & for the children´s. I want to be a fun & energetic mother. It is so strange (yet so recognizable): this change in perspective. Things really are relative. I can no longer say, "ah, what a selfish woman! she works while her baby is young.." Precisely because I think that mothering does revolve around nurturing...and no mother can nurture a child if she is not nurtured by something in return.
More to consider:
So, I´ve been thinking a lot about pregnancy and emotions and how the one affects the other. I thought of my (if I dare say it)perfect first pregnancy. Then I thought of Arianna...of how absolutely cheerful she is. It is no exaggeration. She is, by far, the most joyful & energetic (albeit hyper) child there ever was. She was also the most easy-going baby. It must have something to do with my pregnancy. With how calm and thrilled I was. I have read that a woman´s emotional state during pregnancy affects the child´s emotional development, and I believe that Ari exemplifies that theory. Having said that, I don´t think a mother is entirely to blame or to praise for a child´s behavior/disposition. But it seems natural and logical that a mother would project her energy, positive or negative, onto the child in her womb. Again, I think of how I am influencing my new baby... I think of the tensions, the negativity...the wishing things were different. I want to give this child a fair start in life, too. I need to take a hold of myself, of my emotions, for the sake of this baby.
Still, I am so glad that this weight rests on other shoulders, too. It would be too much of a responsibility to carry. I am convinced that there is a higher power at work.
Last week, I went to see the West Side Story, along with my mother-in-law, aunt-in-law, and cousin-in-law. It was grand. I so wished I could be up there, dancing and singing and acting. I wished I were a Broadway star. The stage was beautifully located next to the Manzanares river, with the palace on its left, and the trees of Madrid's Casa de Campo on its right. The moon seemed to belong to the set. There were massive photographs of Manhattan in the '50s, and I sang along (quietly, of course) to the familiar tunes of the show. "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight." I imagined how fabulous it must be to sing into the city, to hear one's voice spread across the river and into the halls of the royal palace.
I'm glad my baby got to enjoy a show ;-) Ari "attended" a Josh Groban concert before her birth, and traveled to England&Scotland; her sibling deserved at least one similar outing of her/his own. Hopefully, he/she will get to do some pre-birth traveling in August, as well.
It has taken me about one whole year to feel the weight of parenthood. For all the trouble that people associate with caring for a newborn, Ari's infancy was definitely the easy "bit" for me. There were no baby-blues, no post-partum depression of any sort. On the contrary, I felt like I was on top of the world for that entire first year. Motherhood was the most thrilling & fulfilling thing. This second year has been harder. I finally understand why mothers (especially stay-at-home mothers) struggle with their new identity and task. This is not some kind of lament, or horror-story. Not at all. I have just come to the (frustrating) realization that perhaps I, too, need to be more than just a mama. I thought motherhood would be enough for me. At least for a good while. It gave me such a sense of fulfillment and self-worth. But the thought of recovering the "other me" is starting to itch. I feel the urge to express myself creatively, to pursue my other interests. In fact, I finally remember that I actually have interests beyond motherhood.
I didn't think I was that kind of mother. It has taken me a while to realize that that kind of a mother doesn't exist. And if she does, eventually she will inevitably feel the need to be "more" than just a mother. Motherhood may seem like a big bubble for a while, and it certainly revolutionizes one's life, but it is bound to burst at some point.
This is a discussion of the "mother as a person" problem, and the guilt that comes along with it. Now that I am no longer singing my way through every day, no longer raving about how changing diapers and being with my daughter is enough for me, I want to be open about the harder side of mommying. It started several months ago; I lost some of my enthusiasm for caring for my daughter. She still brightened my days with her silly behavior, with her beautiful smile, and her intelligence.....but I started to wish I could have other skills, or other interests.. I wanted to find the next goal. And it made me feel so darn guilty. I thought to myself: "how could I possibly want to spend an hour away from Ari!??"
But I've learned, mainly through conversations with other mothers (including my own ;-) ), that pursuing other interests & developing my identity (beyond motherhood) does not turn me into a bad or selfish mother. On the contrary, it should help me to be a better mother.
"If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy..." It is so true. How can I invest in Arianna if I am an empty shell of a woman? I can try to focus all of my energies on her.... to let her life be life enough for me. But that won't be enough for either of us.
I recently discussed this issue with another mother (of a girl of Ari's age). While I didn't particularly understand her mothering-mentality (i.e. the fact that her daughter goes to the daycare full-time 5 days a week, while the mother doesn't work), she made a good point: children benefit from parents who live fulfilling lives of their own. In other words, if my life revolves solely around Arianna, that will inevitably put tremendous pressure on her.
This is another story about balance, then.
It is tough...I feel quite guilty toward this new baby already. For one, I haven´t been so ecstatic during this pregnancy. And then there is the issue of my plan to be a part-time working mother during his/her young life. Ari has been priviliged to have had my undivided attention for the first two years of her life. I think it has been healthy for her... but I also know that I need to do things differently next year. For my sake & for the children´s. I want to be a fun & energetic mother. It is so strange (yet so recognizable): this change in perspective. Things really are relative. I can no longer say, "ah, what a selfish woman! she works while her baby is young.." Precisely because I think that mothering does revolve around nurturing...and no mother can nurture a child if she is not nurtured by something in return.
More to consider:
So, I´ve been thinking a lot about pregnancy and emotions and how the one affects the other. I thought of my (if I dare say it)perfect first pregnancy. Then I thought of Arianna...of how absolutely cheerful she is. It is no exaggeration. She is, by far, the most joyful & energetic (albeit hyper) child there ever was. She was also the most easy-going baby. It must have something to do with my pregnancy. With how calm and thrilled I was. I have read that a woman´s emotional state during pregnancy affects the child´s emotional development, and I believe that Ari exemplifies that theory. Having said that, I don´t think a mother is entirely to blame or to praise for a child´s behavior/disposition. But it seems natural and logical that a mother would project her energy, positive or negative, onto the child in her womb. Again, I think of how I am influencing my new baby... I think of the tensions, the negativity...the wishing things were different. I want to give this child a fair start in life, too. I need to take a hold of myself, of my emotions, for the sake of this baby.
Still, I am so glad that this weight rests on other shoulders, too. It would be too much of a responsibility to carry. I am convinced that there is a higher power at work.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
We were young once......and bloggers.
Song: "This house is not for sale," Ryan Adams.
I wrote this entry in my head, whilst working on my cherry-cheese pie, and might only recall a third of what I felt compelled to share.
Having made yet another return to the blog-world, I am fascinated by the way the blogger is immediately committed to the blog. None might read it, it might be left unvisited for a month, but the words are out there, and the burden of being unknown is somehow lifted.
This might not make any sense, but I´ll give it a try. There is something magical about it- about blogging. It is a relatively new phenomenon, but it has impacted us (especially our generation) so extensively. As much as I might hate the internet, and sometimes I do really abhor it, (hence my dramatic departure from fb, among other things) the concept of blogging is quite beautiful.
Just a few years ago, it seemed like we were all part of it. Old High School buddies, keeping up with one another through blog-posts and photos, writing ridiculous stories collectively, and tagging one another to do surveys. We had lists on our pages with links that made it so easy to stay in touch: one click, and we were redirected to so-and-so´s blog.
I loved it. But then weeks started to go by without an entry, months without a comment... our blogs died a slow death. Some of us made new attempts, but most of the blogs were left untouched, not to be revived again. I´ve revisited them from time to time, hoping to encounter a surprise update..... rarely did I find one.
So, now I read the blogs of strangers; in hopes of finding some connection, or a point of reference there, I suppose. The blogs that I read are good- very good. Blogs of mothers & fathers who have made their living (grand, in certain cases) by blogging about their stay-at-home parenthood; enviable people! Their entries boast not a dozen, not a hundred, NO, thousands(!!) of comments. I get excited when I find just two on my own page!
I still wonder, despite the quality of these blogs, how they create such an empire (it really is!), and where they find such a following. These bloggers write decent entries, and they include funny and embarrassing anecdotes, but their stories are still so mundane. Perhaps that is exactly why people read them. It, the blog-hype, says a lot about us all: it proves that we are desperate for (and commited to) community.
It might be more of a big deal for me, as I spend my entire day at home with a toddler for a conversation-partner. I ache for interaction. This is why I check so many blogs so many times a day; I am just doing the reading, in most cases, but it is about the closest I get to feeling connected.
And then there is the blogger´s battle, the constant attempt to find a balance between sharing one´s thoughts (achieving a sense of being understood/known) and maintaining the necessary amount of privacy. That is the reason I abandoned blogging several times. One blogs because one wants to be known & form part of a greater community of thinkers and feelers. One stops blogging because it invades too much of one´s life.
I am especially vulnerable to this, because I act on my impulses. Thus, when I feel somewhat lonely one day, I might start a blog. However, whenever something (anything) convinces me that I have shared too much of my thoughts, I might delete the blog. And then regret it. And then regret writing a particular entry, or including a specific detail. It is a juggling-act. I have often dropped the juggling-balls.
This is why I can´t guarantee that this blog will have a long life-span. My guess is this: there will be a direct correlation between the frequency of my updates and my social and/or professional life. (even though friends & work do provide food for thought)
In other words, I am rather bored and unoccupied (ahem...lonely) at the moment: hence, I´ve written three entries in three days. So, perhaps I am hoping not to write too many entries in the months ahead. Or perhaps I would just really love it if you would all join me & revive your own blogs.
Now, I have a cherry-cheese pie to tend to. And a daughter who is waking up from her 3-hour nap..
laters.
I wrote this entry in my head, whilst working on my cherry-cheese pie, and might only recall a third of what I felt compelled to share.
Having made yet another return to the blog-world, I am fascinated by the way the blogger is immediately committed to the blog. None might read it, it might be left unvisited for a month, but the words are out there, and the burden of being unknown is somehow lifted.
This might not make any sense, but I´ll give it a try. There is something magical about it- about blogging. It is a relatively new phenomenon, but it has impacted us (especially our generation) so extensively. As much as I might hate the internet, and sometimes I do really abhor it, (hence my dramatic departure from fb, among other things) the concept of blogging is quite beautiful.
Just a few years ago, it seemed like we were all part of it. Old High School buddies, keeping up with one another through blog-posts and photos, writing ridiculous stories collectively, and tagging one another to do surveys. We had lists on our pages with links that made it so easy to stay in touch: one click, and we were redirected to so-and-so´s blog.
I loved it. But then weeks started to go by without an entry, months without a comment... our blogs died a slow death. Some of us made new attempts, but most of the blogs were left untouched, not to be revived again. I´ve revisited them from time to time, hoping to encounter a surprise update..... rarely did I find one.
So, now I read the blogs of strangers; in hopes of finding some connection, or a point of reference there, I suppose. The blogs that I read are good- very good. Blogs of mothers & fathers who have made their living (grand, in certain cases) by blogging about their stay-at-home parenthood; enviable people! Their entries boast not a dozen, not a hundred, NO, thousands(!!) of comments. I get excited when I find just two on my own page!
I still wonder, despite the quality of these blogs, how they create such an empire (it really is!), and where they find such a following. These bloggers write decent entries, and they include funny and embarrassing anecdotes, but their stories are still so mundane. Perhaps that is exactly why people read them. It, the blog-hype, says a lot about us all: it proves that we are desperate for (and commited to) community.
It might be more of a big deal for me, as I spend my entire day at home with a toddler for a conversation-partner. I ache for interaction. This is why I check so many blogs so many times a day; I am just doing the reading, in most cases, but it is about the closest I get to feeling connected.
And then there is the blogger´s battle, the constant attempt to find a balance between sharing one´s thoughts (achieving a sense of being understood/known) and maintaining the necessary amount of privacy. That is the reason I abandoned blogging several times. One blogs because one wants to be known & form part of a greater community of thinkers and feelers. One stops blogging because it invades too much of one´s life.
I am especially vulnerable to this, because I act on my impulses. Thus, when I feel somewhat lonely one day, I might start a blog. However, whenever something (anything) convinces me that I have shared too much of my thoughts, I might delete the blog. And then regret it. And then regret writing a particular entry, or including a specific detail. It is a juggling-act. I have often dropped the juggling-balls.
This is why I can´t guarantee that this blog will have a long life-span. My guess is this: there will be a direct correlation between the frequency of my updates and my social and/or professional life. (even though friends & work do provide food for thought)
In other words, I am rather bored and unoccupied (ahem...lonely) at the moment: hence, I´ve written three entries in three days. So, perhaps I am hoping not to write too many entries in the months ahead. Or perhaps I would just really love it if you would all join me & revive your own blogs.
Now, I have a cherry-cheese pie to tend to. And a daughter who is waking up from her 3-hour nap..
laters.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Hanging around
song: "Morning Yearning", Ben Harper.
Daniel bought me this lovely little journal yesterday.... so, I can finally begin to write to/about this new baby. I feel bad to have left it for so long... I wrote in two different journals while expecting Ari, AND kept up a blog in her honor.
See what I´ve done to myself?? I thought it would be a good idea to test if the iron was actually on: it has left two little scar-lines on my fingers.
The village green:
Having lived in the middle of nowhere for about half a year now, I have discovered that I am not a village-person. Ari and I are bored out of our wits. I still have visions of myself standing on a hill of a shire-like village, surrounded by sheep and cows.... but this does not come close.
It is too hot, too dry: I wonder how anything can survive here. We spend most of the day trying to avoid the sun; staying inside, wishing we could be elsewhere.
I much prefered living here when we were snowed in: there was something romantic about that, at least. Oh well. We plan to be back in the civilized world in the fall.
Change:
Daniel and I live haphazardly. For all the thinking, speculating, and dreaming we do, we rarely actually plan anything, which means that we usually just end up where the winds of change take us. This might just be the reason why I am always ready for the next place, the next change. If only we would just make a decision, set a goal, and work toward that... I wouldn´t be so restless. Maybe. I am so inspired by change. I might even say I am a bit addicted to it. It must have something to do with this:
"I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
*Henry David Thoreau
(although I am not planning to go live in the wood, as much as it appeals to the imagination).
This is why I am considering the option of going to graduate school....for a second time. The degree I already have isn´t going to open the doors that I want to walk through. It might, by some unexpected turn in events, help me become a High School teacher, but I´d rather be better "equipped" to do a multitude of things... The thought of teaching a group of 15-year olds what a particular poem means (an idea I don´t support to begin with) just doesn´t inspire me.
In fact, I don´t think I would enjoy teaching at all, unless I could teach the "real" stuff: i.e. the college-level courses that so inspired me.
The problem is, once again, that I can´t just drop everything I am doing (mothering, that is) and run off to college. It would have to be planned out very carefully, prepared for financially, etc.
I am just hoping/dreaming that I won´t have to wait until I am forty years old to return to college. I have forgotten enough of what I have learned just in the last two years. Ten or fifteen years would put me back at the High School level, I fear, or worse. "William Shakespeare´s timeline ???? Um... the Romantic age?" See what I mean???
Daniel bought me this lovely little journal yesterday.... so, I can finally begin to write to/about this new baby. I feel bad to have left it for so long... I wrote in two different journals while expecting Ari, AND kept up a blog in her honor.
See what I´ve done to myself?? I thought it would be a good idea to test if the iron was actually on: it has left two little scar-lines on my fingers.
The village green:
Having lived in the middle of nowhere for about half a year now, I have discovered that I am not a village-person. Ari and I are bored out of our wits. I still have visions of myself standing on a hill of a shire-like village, surrounded by sheep and cows.... but this does not come close.
It is too hot, too dry: I wonder how anything can survive here. We spend most of the day trying to avoid the sun; staying inside, wishing we could be elsewhere.
I much prefered living here when we were snowed in: there was something romantic about that, at least. Oh well. We plan to be back in the civilized world in the fall.
Change:
Daniel and I live haphazardly. For all the thinking, speculating, and dreaming we do, we rarely actually plan anything, which means that we usually just end up where the winds of change take us. This might just be the reason why I am always ready for the next place, the next change. If only we would just make a decision, set a goal, and work toward that... I wouldn´t be so restless. Maybe. I am so inspired by change. I might even say I am a bit addicted to it. It must have something to do with this:
"I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
*Henry David Thoreau
(although I am not planning to go live in the wood, as much as it appeals to the imagination).
This is why I am considering the option of going to graduate school....for a second time. The degree I already have isn´t going to open the doors that I want to walk through. It might, by some unexpected turn in events, help me become a High School teacher, but I´d rather be better "equipped" to do a multitude of things... The thought of teaching a group of 15-year olds what a particular poem means (an idea I don´t support to begin with) just doesn´t inspire me.
In fact, I don´t think I would enjoy teaching at all, unless I could teach the "real" stuff: i.e. the college-level courses that so inspired me.
The problem is, once again, that I can´t just drop everything I am doing (mothering, that is) and run off to college. It would have to be planned out very carefully, prepared for financially, etc.
I am just hoping/dreaming that I won´t have to wait until I am forty years old to return to college. I have forgotten enough of what I have learned just in the last two years. Ten or fifteen years would put me back at the High School level, I fear, or worse. "William Shakespeare´s timeline ???? Um... the Romantic age?" See what I mean???
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