winter proof?

life is better lately, jagged edges have been polished and i've found a fluid rhythm to most of my days. while my productivity has not returned, i have found a long lost sense of composure. it feels good to not constantly be standing at the edge of darkness holding back tears. while this composure is not enough for the long run, it's enough for now.

i drive to work most days finally noticing signs of a thaw. there are colors breaking through the snow and paths once again being beaten. there are photoshoots, workouts and visits from friends and there is hot coffee on sunny saturday afternoons. there is a renewed commitment to healthy living and picture hanging. there are reflections of gratitude in the glass of every picture hung on the walls of our house.

there are however reminders of recent of recent injuries. there are also scars still healing and feelings still marinating. and there are subjects which are still being cautiously approached and there are people, long lost people, with whom i have yet to catch up with despite my best intentions. i am hoping that they understand that this has been a process that had to be endured and experienced. it has been winter for many months.

at work, there are piles of brownish folders on my desk, waiting, long ignored, soon to be problematic but there are also lists and checkmarks slowly being applied. there is progress, albeit slow and measured that is reassuring and validating. there are discussions of a possible vacation, a welcome break from the strain of several stressful months and there is hope related to change. there is also conversations with family related to things other than sickness and hospital stays.

there are also ideas being discussed that did not seem possible some short six months ago. there is the feeling that for the first time, since our mid twenties, we are faced with a wonderful world of endless possibilities. and there is spring lying in the shadows of small snowbanks.

i wonder tho, after reading this, if this past winter is not a new normal. is winter a new road that to be navigated full of permanent potholes and cracks, only temporarily re-sealed from time to time. will it be winter more often than not? or does time thicken our skin and make us winter-proof*?

*please read comments on that post to see what I mean

2

Dear little dude,

Yesterday was your birthday. We celebrated your life with a small party at home inviting a few friends as well as your grandparents. We ate lots of good food and some cake. People can say what they want about two-year olds....but you were gracious, funny and enchanting. You could not have been any happier as your day was filled with chocolate milk, lots of knees for reading books and more new trucks than you could count. I wonder how long your needs will remain so simple. You smiled all day long. I never want you to get older and yet I can't wait to see what the future holds for you.

Earlier this week, I started a list of all the things you are, at this very moment, I thought that if I froze time, on this page, that it might freeze a tiny bit of you. I thought that I might get to hold onto this sweet time just a bit longer. But as each new day draws to a close, I realize that despite my own need to hang on, you keep learning and exploring, just a bit further, every day. It makes me both weep and cheer. Learning how to be your mother has been the greatest experience I could have ever hoped for.

You have turned into such a smart little boy. I can no longer type the words "baby" because you spend your days running, jumping and playing with trains. You have opinions, preferences and feelings. You even have an imagination that is starting to blossom. The other day you grabbed two Dorito chips and giggled "sailboats"...It blew my mind. You now know how to say I love you...in two different languages. How did all of this happen?

Late last week I made you a short movie that you've now watched over a dozen times. You can recognize everyone you see onscreen and you squeal with delight each time you hear the first few notes of the song start to play. I love how you love to laugh at yourself and still recognize your baby face...some two years later.

I love you till the end of the universe. Happy 2nd birthday, I'll continue to slay all of your dragons.

The Mamma


Your first two years.

(I've tried to share this directly from YouTube about a dozen times but it doesn't seem to want to work)

on being tidy...

Anyone who's been to my house knows that it is far from clean. It is usually tidy, but it is not clean. Likewise, anyone who has really gotten to know me, knows that my life is far from simple. I don't pretend to shoulder a wooden cross but, like you, like the mailman, like the clerk at the corner store, I've got my share of messiness lurking behind open doors. Things are not always what they seem. And I swear alot.

And this tidiness, it's usually a mask. It's something I struggle with. When I feel out of control, when I feel stressed and pulled in all directions, I make piles. I pile books, I pile dishes, I pile papers. Those piles of things topple over pretty easily. That toppling almost always gives way to tears...and more swearing. These past two years have been about finding that precarious balance.

Complete disclosure and privacy are things I grapple with in this space. Part of me wants to keep this space all about energy and positivity while the other part of me wants to write about broken dishes, tears and disappointment. I want to write about the fucking hard days but I also want to write about the lightness and wonder of a two-year old. I am having a hard time finding the right balance lately.

Part of what keeps me from writing about the ugliness or the fact that I am truly worried about several things in my life at the moment is that the internet has a way of taking snapshots in time. I worry about impressions that are left behind, inked, permanently in cached browsers and .temp files. If I wrote about the frustrations of any given night...in what context will those be read and judged.

In real life, mornings often gives way to kinder words, compromise and reconstruction. The dustpan gathers the bits of glass and makes a room whole again. On the internet, these impressions can not and will not be erased by a good night's sleep, or a long phone call with a friend. Statements and comments remain even after deleted, they find ways to live on and revisit us at the most random of times.

Another reason I hesitate to lift the veil of tidiness is the fact that it's hard to honor truth and real life without impacting the lives of those around us. I have a partner, a husband, who does not have a presence online. This is his choice and I respect this. You will rarely see his picture or read his real name. This is a conscious choice. I have parents and friends and an employer who also have lines and boundaries that are not mine to cross. It is fair for me to constantly write about one side of the story? Or is that all any of us ever get when reading a blog? I'm not sure.

So for now, I think I'll work on my need to keep things tidy. Tidiness is not next to godliness (not that this would ever matter in my godless house) but it is a sign of my issues with keeping control. Sometimes it's ok to let go and let the world know I am hard fucking day. Today is good so far, although another call from my mechanic and I see a pile that might soon be toppled over.

spark

I wish I could make everything better
I wish I could make you stop hurting
I wish I could take away your fear
I wish I could give you freedom

What I can give you is hope
What I can give you is support
What I can give you is an ear
What I can give you is my friendship

I want so many things for you
I want you to want those things too
I want you to see that you are valuable
I want you to know that you deserve happiness

What makes us human is our frailty
What makes us unique is our ability to change
What makes us thrive is our desire to improve
What makes us hopeful is discovering that spark.

the construction of time

sometimes time goes by too quickly. seconds fly into instants and sometimes things slip away, just out of your grasp and you are forever changed. sometimes the speed of time is terrifying.

*****

i thought he'd wait for me at the top of the stairs, like he always does. he has never taken a step down, on his own, until now. i knew within a heartbeat that i should not have let him wander that far. but in an instant, it often becomes too late. his little body slipped quickly and quietly down the stairs and in less time than it took to catch my breath, he was at the bottom of the stairs in a screaming mess.

i don't remember if my feet touched any stairs because I just needed to see if he was ok. i needed to know that he was not broken. what i saw was hurt. he was terrified and sad and shocked and mad. of course he was mad. he was also bleeding, but did not appear to have any broken bones. we spent several hours in the wake looking for signs, for bumps, for cuts, for slurs or any small changes...and nothing. i didn't really breath for a whole day. a week has passed and it's almost like it never happened. but it did.

i'm glad he is ok, but i will not get over the fact that i wasn't there and it's not something I'll easily forget. in a moment, i almost let him slip away. for now my heart remains paused at the top of those stairs, shaking off what wasn't, but could have been.

****



****

sometimes time has a way of meandering so slowly that it feels painful. sometimes the minutae of a day drones into hours and afternoons and you wonder how you are going to make it through another minute, nevermind until quitting time. sometimes all you wish for is a faster clock.


****

i felt that way last Wednesday night. my back hurt and i was only halfway through a week that afforded no time for pain. i had luggage to pack and a full day's work to get through before leaving town for the weekend. i knew that i could hardly move without wincing and i also knew what role i played in this injury. i know better than to try to out-train this kind of thing. sometimes sound judgment is harder than it ought to be. sometimes i wish my body was faster and stronger.

so i thought i'd cheat a bit. he seldom stops but the reality is that sometimes i have to. so i sprawled at the foot of the bed to get more comfortable while watching him jump in the way that only a 2 year old can. he babbled: "lit, lit lit" and "saut, saut, saut", while i intermittently looked at my blackberry, looked at the ceiling and looked back to him, urging the night to speed along.

suddenly....he stopped time again. he stopped talking, he stopped babbling and he stopped jumping. silently and purposefully, he curled his tiny body up beside me and tugged at my arm until it wrapped loosely around his hip. he smashed his face up against mine and whispered onto my cheek while patting my neck. twice i tried to pull away and twice he snuggled into me, breathing softly and whispering onto my face. the world became suspended between breaths and i became unable to think about anything else.

it will be a long time before i forget that kind of stillness. in that instant my whole self expanded and it will forever remain just a tiny bit fuller. my heart remains paused at the foot of that bed, reconciling feelings that i never knew were possible.