The Big Seven

Today marks my 7th year of marriage.  

Whenever I read or hear that someone has been married 20 years or more my heart jumps a little.  I don't know how people do it.  I mean, I know how people do it: one day at a time, one week at a time, one month a time, one year at a time.  But it's daunting to think of such a long span of time.  And it really doesn't help that I don't personally know a couple that has been together that long or, rather, been together that long happily.  That's really scary.  Really, really scary. 

I so wish I did have that example.  I wish I did have someone who has been there, done that, to talk to.  A person who I could fully trust, who could empathize and offer sound, balanced advice.  What I find is that I have to protect and safeguard my marriage.  I have to keep things very private because people don't understand.  They don't have the experience to understand.  And they don't get that I don't want them to be on "my" side.  So I end up not talking much about issues in my marriage that are bothering me or that are problematic or that I can't see a solution to.  Except for sometimes when I post on a message board.  But that always seems . . . impersonal and you can never convey fully what the situation entails and exactly how everyone feels.  Plus, it's a whole bunch of strangers who don't know you anyway.

So on my 7th anniversary, I have to acknowledge that marriage is perhaps the most difficult thing I've ever done.  It's bittersweet.  On the one hand, we made it!  And we made it through a whole lot of nonsense and obstacles at that!  And we have a good, solid happy marriage and we still fundamentally like each other and genuinely love each other.  On the other, I get weary sometimes and wonder how to keep making it.  I struggle sometimes with the feeling that I sacrificed my 20s at the altar of marriage thinking it was an alternative, and obvious/wise choice and an investment.  But I can't always gauge the return or if there will be one.  I hope so though.  I believe so.

I'm not the happiest I could possibly be but I'm not the most miserable.  I'm pretty happy.  And I am honest with myself in saying that my marriage is not what is keeping me from being totally and completely happy.  Whatever that means (what it means to be happy and how to be happy is the subject of many a book . . . no one seems to really know the answer).

I feel fortunate to have found this book though: The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. I'm getting through it slowly, reading from it for five minutes daily at my altar.  I've already gained a lot of insight.  I hope more useful resources like this keep coming my way because in my heart of hearts, I want to make it to 20 years and much, much further.  

A complex, sad situation.

My cat Sophia is dying.  

She's been sick for months with what we thought was a terrible virus or allergies.  She had lots of mucus and was sneezing all the time.  We took her to the vet a number of times and after numerous go-rounds of antibiotics, she was still doing pretty badly.

We decided to take her to an animal hospital.  When they went in to do a biopsy of a lump she had, they discovered a much bigger lump.  In a day or two, we found out the lump was cancerous:  Sophia has lymphoma.  

The prognosis for cat lymphoma is not good.  We are going to give her steroids to make her time left easier.  Right now, she struggles to breathe and has absolutely no pep.  

It makes me so sad and I'm writing this with tears stinging my eyes.  I got her just two weeks before I found out I was pregnant with Zion.  She was a tiny kitten.  She's grown to be a part of this family and she will leave a void when she's gone.  

Sophia is the first being close to me that I have known I was going to lose.  I have been having a sickening premonition that I was going to lose something and I was preparing myself mentally/spiritually for it.  I didn't know who or what was going to happen.  I didn't even want to speak about the premonition fearing the worst.  So a part of me is a little relieved despite being sad.  Another part of me hopes this is really what the premonition was about--not the beginning or part of it. 

My poor Sophia.  I hope the steroids at least help her to not suffer.  They say she has about 3-6 months before she stops eating.  And at that time, it would be best to put her down.  The very idea of putting her down puts a pit in my stomach.  What are my feelings on euthanasia?  Does that extend to every species including humans?  I've always said that if I knew for certain I was going to die (like if I were on the sinking Titanic) I would have have opted for a bullet to the head.  I don't like suspense (couldn't even get through one episode of 24) and I despise useless suffering.  But am I taking euthanasia too lightly because she's not human?  I believe, like Buddhism teaches, that there is no hierarchy of life:  life is life and is equal, whether a bumble bee or a human.  Then there's the part of me that just doesn't want to wake up one morning and find her dead.  I certainly don't want the kids to find her.  And my husband was the one who found his father dead of a heart attack.  He's already said he doesn't want to handle anything like that again.  

It's such a complex, sad situation. 

Happy 2nd Earthlight!

Today is Z2's second birthday and I can hardly believe how the time has blown by. Z2 is still nursing but only to sleep and when he wakes in the morning. I had to reduce the frequency of nursing sessions because it was starting to annoy me. So here he is, this big boy, who still enjoys to nurse. He is such an amusing nurser, humming songs, "snapping" his fingers, taking breaks to dance a little jig. It's amazing how much he loves music!

Z2 has been acting like a two year old for some months now telling me "NO!" and demanding that things are his by screeching "MINE". I love his little 2 year old vocabulary. I love how he is such a huge mimic of his brother. I mean everything Z1 does, Z2 is going to try to do to. It's so cute watching him do it too. Well, cute and treacherous because as you can imagine, Z1 is much more steady on his feet so Z2 trying to do the exact same things sometimes is . . . dangerous. But Z2 doesn't care and I am tickled (and frightened) by his daring adventures.

So Happy Happy Birthday Z2! And many, many more!!

Authentic Traditions

So whether you know it or not, today is the second day of Kwanzaa. I blogged about it last year and expressed how it feels a bit contrived/made up yet I still see a lot of value in the Kwanzaa principles (Nguzo Saba).

Well, this year, I took a book out of the library on Kwanzaa and even though we don't have a Kinara set up or anything, we're going through each day of Kwanzaa. Today's principle is kujichagulia or self-determination. Or course, if you know me, you know this is one of the biggest principles I'm trying to engender in my own life, i.e. living my life on my own terms and it would be a tremendous blessing if I could pass this principle on to my children.

Anyway, as I share these principles with my children, I still can't shake the feeling that Kwanzaa doesn't feel true to me. I am not African-American. My parents are relatively recent and voluntary immigrants to the United States. I know the geographic location where my family hails from. And I ache for authentic traditions.

My parents, being the staunch Christians that they are, made it a point to avoid all traditional celebrations and holidays. In fact, there are no pictures of my parents' traditional wedding (I don't think they had one) and I'm pretty sure my mother was not pleased that my cousin had her traditional wedding with "all that unnecessariness". I can't say that had we been exposed to our ancient traditions, I would still embrace them today but I feel like a part of who I am is missing.

This is complicated by the fact that although I understand my mother tongue of Igbo, I cannot speak it with any fluency. It makes communicating with my grandmother, who only speaks Igbo, a serious challenge. I feel like she is a treasure trove of information, history and wisdom and I am cut off. I've googled to find an organization of my dad's village people have here in the States. I know that folks are celebrating our traditions but I feel awkward. I don't really know anyone having lived in the States all my life, I don't speak the language and since I'm married, I technically am not from the village my father is from anymore but from the village my husband is from. Since my husband is American, technically/traditionally speaking, I'm from whatever "village" in America he comes from. In fact, because of this I could really only be an honorary member of that organization to which I linked above.

It's kind of frustrating that I should have a direct connection to my history and culture along with the traditions and celebrations but I don't. Do I try to forge one with my strangers from the village my dad comes from? Or do I just suck it up and embrace Kwanzaa as my own? After all, every tradition was made up/started sometime. If we really get into it now and take it seriously, it will be a real tradition for our great-great grandchildren.

Everybody needs a little "me" time

I had a terrible allergy fit last night and ended up taking 2 Claritin.  The box says that taking more than the recommended dose could make you drowsy.  For me, it's like drinking Red Bull or some other kind of high caffeine drink.  My sleep is shallow and any little thing can rouse me.  But it's far better than suffering with the allergies: sneeze, sneeze, sniffle, blow, scratch throat, rub eyes, sneeze, sneeze, sniffle.

Anyway, today was the first morning I was supposed to get up at 4:45 to exercise. And when the alarm clock rang, my eyes sprang open.  I lay in bed for just a few moments more (because it was cold outside the bed and I like to listen to my men sleeping).  Anyway, just as I was about to get out of bed, Z2 started to stir.  I stayed perfectly still.  It didn't work!  This little dude knew what I was up to and got up right then.  So I spent some time trying to calm him down by singing to him (He loves Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star).  Fifteen minutes later, he was back asleep.  I crept out of bed to go wash my face, brush my teeth and put on my workout attire.  As soon as I got to the bathroom, he was up again hollering, "Mom, mom, mom!!"  Oh Lord help me!  So I go back to the bedroom and this time I figure let me just nurse him back to sleep.  So I do and he drifts off.  I go to get my nipple out of his mouth and this little dude will not let go!  Eventually, I just stick my finger in his mouth to break the latch and he starts to pitch a fit.  At this point, I'm like whatever--it's 5:40 already and I've been up one whole hour trying to put him back to sleep so I can go workout.  He's there in bed with his father hollering while I go off to get my workout on.  Well, he cried and cried and cried for close to 45 minutes while I was exercising.  I felt badly for him but I was determined to exercise and I wasn't going to let him derail me.  I really need to exercise to let go of stress and also for my digestive health and just an overall feeling of well being.  I jumped around the living room with him bawling and didn't stop once.  Did I feel any guilt?  Not one iota.

See, I spend practically my whole day focused on my family especially my little boys.  For most of the day, their needs come first.  I can't tell you how many times I've given them lunch but forgot to give myself lunch.  How many pampers have I changed and butts have I wiped but forget to go to the bathroom myself until it's a dire emergency?  This is what the day usually looks like.  I just need a few moments where my attention is totally focused on me.  Little Z2 doesn't quite understand that but he doesn't need to in order for me to give myself permission to do what I need to do.  I feel badly that he was in there hollering at his father who also needs his sleep but believe me, I am a much better wife and person in general when I get my exercise.  And this morning, not only did I get a chance to exercise, I was able to journal, study and chant in a focused way because it was quiet and I was alone.  I feel really great right now.

So despite Z2's protests, I'm going to keep working out in the morning, guilt free.  Hopefully he gets used to it soon.

It's 7:54 and everyone is still asleep.  What a wonky morning!

Keeping My Head

We were in the backyard today enjoying the lovely fall foliage and the bright, warm sun. Z1 was out there playing with his friend and Z2 was bumbling around doing baby stuff. At one point, he decided to play the game of going in and out of the house, opening and closing the screen door. This goes on for a few minutes and then he decided to close the back door. I didn't even *think* to take off the slam and so there we were. Z2 was locked inside and we were locked outside. I started to wrack my brain thinking of what to do. I hate drama and didn't want the firefighters and police in my space. I ran around the front to see if maybe I had left the front door open for some reason. It was locked. I called my family who lives upstairs hoping that maybe someone had stayed home from church. No one was home. I told myself to stay calm. Z2 had just started to cry now that he realized I couldn't get to him. I listened to myself and stayed calm. I took one of the resin chairs to the window at the side of the house, pried the bug screen off and shimmied the window open. There are stops on the windows that keep it from opening more than 3-4 inches. I applied some force and broke the stops. Then I scooted through the window surprised at the upper body strength I have. I mean really surprised. Once in, I dusted myself off and closed the window on to get my baby. As soon as the crisis was over, I had some time to reflect. I am disturbed at how simple it is to get into our locked house but pleased that an intruder couldn't really get in undetected if someone is home. I was very pleased with my ability to stay calm and collected. I was pleased with my ability to keep my head and with my ability to think without panicking. I was pleased with my own strength too.

Other projects today included finally collecting my family's emergency supplies in one large bin and putting together our grab-and-go bag (the hubby still needs to put in his change of clothes). I developed a list of things I still need to purchase and I'll be working on that within the grocery budget this week. This week I'm thinking about meet-up plans in the case of emergency, i.e. developing a plan to get us all out of immediate danger even if we're in different places. I also want to get a laminated checklist of things to grab/we should have in a hurry.

Of course, I'm approaching all this with a levelheadedness that was not there before. I'm watching and waiting patiently. And keeping my gas tank 1/2 full at all times.

Reality has a way of restructuring dreams.

No one ever tells you how exquisitely challenging parenting can be. You only really hear the bright, sparkly, sunshine-y aspects of it--unless you go looking. Recently, though, there have been two great articles about this issue. One by Black Girl in Maine and the other by KIT.

I have been meditating and thinking and wondering and all that for months now and I've finally made peace with the decision to make it so that we will definitively not be having any more children. The hubby's been ready for a while now and I'm finally right there with him.

What sealed the deal? Put the last nail in the coffin. Yesterday we got a notice from the bank that holds our mortgage. School taxes have gone up and we will be paying a whopping $230 more a month. I sincerely hope it's a miscalculation but we're operating under the assumption that it's not.

Add to that the fact that my sleep was disturbed by police helicopters circumnavigating this 4 square mile town for over an hour. We have to leave this town for the sake of our boys and it will be much more likely to happen without more children. More children mean we need more things like a bigger car. We already managed to pay the one we have off and there's really no room in the budget for yet another car payment and we don't have the money on hand to just outright buy a car. More children means more diapers. More clothes. More everything really. And less to go around. It's so true.

When I sit down and look at all the pros and cons of having another baby, the cons unfortunately outweigh the pros. Even vanity plays in . . . I'm finally starting to see some muscle definition in my stomach. And, to be very honest . . . to be brutally and painfully honest . . . I'm tired. These two are enough for me especially if I continue to mother the hands-on way that I've been mothering. I keep thinking that as Z2 gets older, I could hang but right now . . . it's rough.

So I've given the hubby the okay. And hope he does it quick. Before sentiments start to take over. I've always envisioned myself with three or four kids . . . and I think dark thoughts sometimes like what if we lose one of our boys or something. But no new child could replace the ones I have anyway. That's the reality.

And reality sure has a way of restructuring dreams.

I chose the difficult road

It's true. When it comes to parenting, I chose to do things the hard way. And in one of many heart-to-heart conversations, I discovered that this is why the hubby is really through with having children.

You see, except for the fact that the hubby is RastafarI, he is a very middle of the road kind of brother. Not too extreme in any of his beliefs or actions. Me? Well, let's just say that's not how you would describe me. I often marvel at the fact that we actually get along since we are so vastly different. This applies most potently to our parenting.

See, whereas the hubby would have been perfectly happy to slap some Huggies on the baby and call it a day, I wanted to cloth diaper. After a bit of coercing, I got my way. We've been doing the cloth diaper thing now for years and while I loved and still love the idea of it, the truth of the matter is that it's hard work. Lately when Z2 poops, I want to throw the whole mess away not be in the bathroom hovering over the toilet with the diaper sprayer. It's gross. And I'm not really a fan of more laundry. But I can count on having to do a load of diapers every 2-3 days without fail. And there's pressure there too because without clean diapers, well, what's the plan? Elimination communication. (Wow . . . that's a whole other world that I can't even imagine dealing with now.) It's not the easy way.

Whereas the hubby didn't have a problem with the hospital birth of Z1 and the smooth way the insurance paid for it, I did. I really wanted a homebirth. And after weeks of fighting with the insurance company, they agreed to pay half of the midwife's fee. The other half, to the hubby's annoyance, came out of pocket. To him, what was a beautiful experience for me was a huge ball of stress for him . . . right down to the huge stain left on our tan carpet from the birth. It wasn't the easy way.

Then there's breastfeeding . . . he would not have minded in the least giving the boys some formula here and there or even all the time. It's mainly been my thrust to make sure they have received the very best. And as much as I'm thrilled to have been able to do it, I can't deny that it has really disrupted our lives in ways that are difficult to explain fully. Suffice it to say, Z2 wakes up in the morning screaming bloody murder for some milk. The hubby keeps encouraging me to wean. It hasn't been easy.

Then there's circumcision which I'm against and the vaccination issue and the decision to be a stay-at-home mom . . . basically for the hubby, there has been no ease in this whole parenting thing. Nothing has been straightforward. We've spent the whole time going against the grain. Or, more precisely, I have been going against the grain and he has been (supportively) along for the ride. Well, he hasn't just been along for the ride all the time. For some issues, I really had to fight him which I felt badly about but I just couldn't let the issue slide.

When I think about my desire to homeschool, this weighs heavily on me. It is definitely another thing that is solely "my thing" and it is decidedly not the easy road. The hubby would quite happily send the boys off to school because as he put it, he already pays his school taxes. Why spend money twice? And what does that mean about my return to work? He had always hoped that once the kids were all school age, I'd jump right back into the workforce and we'd make a lot more headway financially. The difficult road of being a stay-at-home mom means we give up a lot of luxuries and take a lot longer to do things that could be completed in a jiffy on two incomes.

And then add to that the fact that we don't really get any kind of significant breaks from the children since their grandparents have other priorities and everyone, in general, is quite busy with their own lives. And I really began to understand why he's so tired. And why he's through having children.

And then I began to admit to myself that I'm tired too.

I am eager to get back to the days when I could knit and crochet things, read books, exercise in peace. But I also have to admit that my children do bring me a great deal of joy and in all honesty, they move through these baby days so quickly that one more (only one more) wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Oh, I'd love to be one of those folks who romanticize the whole natural mothering thing and glorify it. But it's been a tough road to travel. And though I've never wavered, I definitely wish sometimes that I could be less bull-headed, more middle-of-the road . . . I don't really enjoy carrying poop-soiled diapers back home with me. That's actually not my idea of fun. I don't like feeling all stressed out in the morning trying to squeeze a workout and some chanting in before Z2 starts to demand to nurse. But these are things I really believe in and I really feel are important--important enough for me to go the extra mile.

I'm truly sorry about the way the hubby feels and often wish that the things that are important to me when it comes to child-rearing would also be important to him. But he's his own person and I respect and love that. I know where the hubby is coming from and so as of a few days ago, I've officially dropped the issue. Who knows if it will be picked up again?

Being a mother of boys

Has deepened my appreciation for how important fathers are in the equation. Fathers are not optional. Boys need their dads. And if dad is not available, they need a good male figure in their lives. They absolutely require that intangible masculine something that a woman, no matter how attentive and thorough just can't give. And I'm not talking just any old dude in a boy's life. I'm talking about one who shows him how to handle his emotions properly--not afraid to show them but wise about his actions and reactions when under the influence of them. A man who the boy has unshakeable faith in. A man who loves the boy unconditionally and insists on always being there through the good and the bad. He is compassionate, caring, and understanding. Playful yet firm.

Boys, especially boys Z1's age, crave it. And blossom and bloom when they have it. And it hurts my heart to see the shadow of loss and void when I notice a little boy who doesn't have that looking on longingly at my son and his father or another father/son couple.

For sure, we all have different paths in life that make us who we are. But living where I do, I see a disproportionate amount of fatherless boys and I wonder if folks know just how profound that missing element is. Do they care?

And yes, fathers are vital for little girls too but that's for a different post.

Photo Credit: "Father and Son" by WisDoc

What a great weekend!

So I'm still figuring out how to type without my left middle finger . . . but, honestly, this weekend past was one of the greatest weekends ever.

After the stitches and all on Saturday, we went to the thrift store and I found a cute fall jacket and some other useful fall articles for the family. We spent a quiet evening at home and enjoyed ourselves even though because of my hurt finger, pizza for dinner was out of the question and even though we were supposed to go to the zoo Saturday but it rained.

Sunday, though, the sun was shining brilliantly.

I have to make mention of the fact that the hubby's job is really a huge blessing. Overall, he enjoys it, there's room for overtime, and it's not seriously stressful most of the time. Well, the hospital he works for sponsored a free weekend at the zoo for employees and their families. So we got free admission, a $10 food voucher and 10% off a purchase in one of the gift stores. A day at the zoo ended up costing up less than $15 ($5 each for the hubby and Z1 to take a camel ride and $4.05 for a zoo baseball cap for Z1 which he adores and slept in last night). We got to see some beautiful animals and Z2 is old enough now that he can really enjoy watching the animals, which was great. We also saw a nice little (free) show that dramatized the migration of birds in the fall. It was so informative yet so entertaining. I thoroughly enjoyed being with my whole family on such a beautiful day.

The hubby had to work OT so we left in good time--but somehow I didn't feel all rushed. After the hubby was off to work, I just folded some laundry and took care of some odds and ends.

Then I took the boys out again thinking we'd go to a particularly nice playground in one of the local parks that overlooks the Atlantic. I was thinking that maybe since summer is over, we wouldn't have to pay to park. The long line of cars waiting to go in let me know that wasn't the case. I debated paying the$6 but then decided to keep my money in hand. I made a u-turn and thought we'd just go to the small playground we'd passed on the way. I parked close to some homes and let Z1 ride his scooter while Z2 was in the stroller. The playground was really small--no swings even--and pretty much empty so I thought we should just walk while Z1 rode his scooter.

Great idea!

We walked back to the park and got to see the drawbridge lift for a passing boat. Then we walked all around the park and got see the beautiful water and about 3 different wedding parties. Just loveliness all around (Z1 kept saying, "Look at all the princesses!"). We walked for almost an hour. Z1 got lots of practice on his scooter and I got some good exercise in.

I'm not sure why I haven't been doing that regularly. It was so much fun! I really can't stand being at the playground (alone) just standing there pushing a swing or spotting Z2 on the jungle gym. Our walk in the park kept us all engaged and it's something I'm looking forward to doing again and again and again. And I definitely don't mind doing it solo because I don't have to have eyes in the back of my head to keep track of everyone. Good stuff.

So while the weekend started off on a bit of a sour note, it ended really well.

So now it 6:55 AM and both the boys are awake and making a lot of noise. I wonder if I should start my yoga . . . Oh, and I found a whole bunch of "instant play" fitness videos on Netflix. It's great! I don't think I'll be bored for a long time.

What a weird summer!

In June, it wouldn't stop raining. July was okay but not quite summer-like. August, we got a few days of a heat wave. I almost had the hubby install the air conditioner. It was almost just too darn hot and then . . . back to the not quite summer-weather. It's actually been cold in the mornings.

Anyway, we're still trying to maximize the summer. We're off to the pool this afternoon. It's not really the best weather to go to the pool it's what we've got. And who knows? It may be the last time this season we get to go although I hope not.

It's uncertain what the rest of summer will bring weather wise but I'm so happy that at least the sun is out so that we can be out. There's nothing as frustrating for me and especially the kids as being cooped up in the house.

At the same time, I'm looking forward to fall. We've been taking a relaxed approach to homeschooling over the summer and we're ready to amp it up. I've got my Hooked on Phonics program (which I got at the thrift store for $15) ready to go t

o teach Z1 to read. He's excited and seems ready. I think we'll sign Z1 up for karate at

the YMCA and continue with the Kindermusik lessons we were taking (for really cheap by the way) at a local church. A friend of mine has his son taking bass lessons and I really wanted Z1 to give it a try to but at $35 per half hour, it's just not possible. I've been showing Z1 the basics of the piano and I'm going to post on Craig's List to see if I can barter tutoring or teaching crochet/knit for formal piano lessons-–or at least find something reasonable. I've got other ideas floating around too . . . I'm actually excited for "school" to start.

How are you getting ready for the fall??

Do you ever wonder if you took a wrong turn

in life? Like what if you had made a different choice at that pivotal moment?

I feel that way sometimes about being a young mother. I got married at 22 and had my first child when I was 23, which is not way young but it is relatively young considering that most mothers I meet at the playground have infants and are in their mid to late thirties. Instead of pursuing my career or, more accurately, starting my career, I made the decision to be a stay-at-home mom.

This year I'll be 28. I have no desire to go to any reunions although it's 10 years since I graduated from high school. I feel like I don't have anything to show for those 10 years except the fact that I'm fertile and can carry children to term and take reasonable care of them. Many of my counterparts are up and coming professionals now--lawyers, doctors, engineers and teachers. Getting on Facebook is a trip sometimes reading what everyone is doing at the moment. What could I write? Changing yet another diaper? Breaking up yet another sibling spat? Negotiating yet again with a cranky four year old what we will have for lunch when all he wants is cake?

Motherhood suits me and I enjoy being here full-time with my children. Really, I do. But sometimes I wonder how life would have been different if I'd made a different choice. I never did get to have my own motorcycle and wouldn't dream of doing that now with children. Never did get to travel and sure as hell don't want to with kids. Never did get all the partying out of my system. Never did get to live on my own. Never did get to where I thought I would be career-wise right now. You don't get the youthfulness and vibrancy of your 20s back and I'm spending most of it--if not all of it-- on other people. That's tough to handle sometimes.

I was grocery shopping at Whole Foods yesterday and saw two well-dressed, albeit weaved out, sisters clearly on their lunch break. It's hard to describe how I felt pushing my two babies, rocking Birkenstocks and trying to keep Z1 from destroying the flower display. I felt like they were looking at me sort of out of pity . . . or disdain. I know it was in my head. I know it was. They probably didn't even notice me. But I wanted to switch places for a minute--have on a nicely tailored suit, stockings, and heels on. Feel chic and successful.

I think I have another summer cold. It started off as allergies and I think progressed to a cold. I miss being able to just lie down and sleep because I'm tired and I need to so that my body can fully recuperate. I miss being able to just focus on me. And at a time when it seems like so many of my peers are super-focused on themselves, I can't help but feel a little jealousy and wonder what the hell I was thinking.

Anyway, more good reasons to stay off Facebook.

ETA: Got the fall edition of Brain, Child Magazine and there was a section about what you've lost and what you've gained as a mother. It put a lot into perspective. Glad I subscribed.

What a neat surprise!

It's another day where the workout doesn't look like it's going to happen. Z2, of course, has been up since 6:20. But . . . he surprised me this morning. I was here reading some blogs and he brought me a book he wanted me to read. It's a bit long and I didn't want to so I told him to go get The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. And to my surprise, his royal cuteness went and got the book. I didn't even realize that he knew it by name! Right now, he is angling to nurse for about the fifth time this morning. That is not a surprise.

It's getting harder to workout

Recently, Z2 has been waking at 6:00. Sometimes he gets up at 6:15 or 6:20 but most days, by 6:30 he is awake and active. The hubby used to just kind of rock him and keep him quiet till 7 so I could finish working out. However, Z2 is now extremely loud in the mornings and gets out of bed to bang on the door to be let out, threatening to wake up his big brother.* He then wants to nurse as soon as he sees me. And then he's really up. I'm trying to not be deterred and just get the workout in while he buzzes around. But it is distracting, to say the least, trying to keep an eye on him while jumping around exercising. I think for my birthday I may just get a membership to a gym. There's this "manly man's" gym close to me. A lot of weightlifter's train there but there's a good selection of workout equipment nonetheless. I can actually walk there in 10 minutes in the months when there's light out by 6:00AM or drive there in 2 minutes when it's darker. I would be out of the house so I couldn't be disturbed. However, I don't feel positive about that plan because taking care of Z2 that early would cut into the hubby's sleep . And the hubby is not a morning person and actually needs that extra hour to function well (he wakes at 7:00). I'm trying to think of what my options are. I thought about just waiting till everyone is up at 7:00/7:30. I think I may try that today. The only thing is that really, by that time I need to be getting on with the day: doing Z1's lesson, getting breakfast ready, packing lunches, vacuuming, folding laundry, etc . . . basically, I feel that by 7:30, my work day has begun. I shift gears mentally and it's hard to get my mind into the game for exercising. I'm waking at 5:00/5:10. It takes me about 10-15 minutes to wash my face, brush my teeth, etc and then I take the rest of hour to journal, meditate, read/study, and chant. I really need these activities too--just as much as exercising.

I'm trying to put it all into perspective. When I was teaching, I had to be out of the house by 7:15 so the option of working out later, i.e. starting my work day later was not really on the table. At least as a stay-at-home mom whose hubby works an evening shift, it is.

I just wish kids would get with the program sometimes!! I miss my 6:00-7:00 workout hour!!

*We all sleep in the same bedroom currently although this Saturday, thank the Lord, that is about to change with the delivery of our new bed frame and mattress. We have not had a bed for years now. We have done without a bed due to a lot of reasons but most especially because of a crazy bed bug infestation which forced us to get rid of our whole bed set--mattress, box spring and frame and fumigate (you need to find someone who knows how to kill bed bugs because these like shits are seriously resilient). Bedbugs are vile and vicious and tough to get rid of! I don't know where they came from but I know that we got rid of them . . . and now, nobody and I mean nobody outside of my sons and husband and myself are allowed anywhere near my bed. But we've suffered a lot due to those bed bugs--sleeping on the couch, inflatable mattresses, the floor and then a futon (full-size--not even queen). And sleeping on a futon while pregnant has got to be a special kind of hell.

Well, since the bed bug thing, a lot has changed in the house. The front room became an office, the old bedroom became the living room and the two back rooms are bedrooms now. So in that way the bedbugs were a positive thing in that it made us change the way the house is set up so that it flows now. We're making much better use of space.

Anyhow, the hubby finished patching up what will be our bedroom ceiling and walls, put on a fresh new coat of paint, and we got some new carpet laid. The old carpet was old and stained from the homebirth (which was gross and for which I think the hubby still holds a grudge against the midwife and doula). And while the new carpet is not exactly plush (it's actually commercial carpet which may actually be better for my allergies), it's clean and neat looking and didn't off gas which was great. We bought a basic platform bed from Gothic Cabinets and a really good but pricey mattress. I preferred to wait till we could get a good mattress rather than getting a cheap one and having just as crappy sleep as we'd been getting on the futon we've been rocking with since well before Z2 was born. So while we're not getting a newly designed master-suite (no new furniture to speak of although I almost scored a great armoire on Freecycle), at least it will be our bedroom, sans kids. We're really looking forward. I'm hoping that it will change this new morning dynamic and that Z2, who seems to sleep better alone, will start to sleep until 7:00 again. Really hoping.

Four Years with My Son--A Reflection

My son is one of the greatest blessings I have ever received in my life. His arrival in my life has completely transformed me in ways I often find hard to articulate. He has magnified some of my insecurities and worries but in some areas of my life he has imbued me with a confidence that I never knew I could have. Z1 is not an easy child and has never been. He came out of me screaming, roaring like a true Leo and never stopped. I spent countless hours during the first weeks of his life walking him while he was screaming. Gripe water and every remedy for colic failed miserably on this little one. It was in those early sleep-deprived months that I discovered baby wearing and became a senior member on one of my message boards. Yet, underneath all that aggression is a peace and an agelessness that is truly profound. He has got to be one of the sweetest people I know yet upon meeting him you might think him rude or abrasive. More than one parent has confided in me that they didn't think Z1 liked their child and I have to patiently show them the ways in which he was demonstrating just how much he did like their child. He's just that unique kind of child that keeps you on your toes. Like how for a while there he was consistently saying that his aunt (my sister) smelled like poop. And how for a while there he absolutely refused to say goodbye after playdates. He's great for a chuckle too. I suffer terribly from allergies and one day he says to me, "Mommy, if you sneeze a lot you have to go to the sneeze doctor. He will give you a red lollipop. I hope he has some!" in such a sincere way that I willed the sneezing to go away so that he wouldn't worry anymore.

At the same time, I am able to acknowledge today that I did not have the greatest of childhoods. I find myself repeating some of the things my parents did that weren't really healthy. And I come down hard on myself too. Really hard. On the other hand, I find myself trying to overcompensate. I get downright obsessive about making sure he has the things that I didn't have as a child and sometimes he bucks at the pressure. And if you know Z1, he is someone that will not perform for you under pressure. And I'm learning slowly how to take it easy and give him his space. His interests and wants and wishes won't be the same as mine were as a child. I'm learning by force to listen, actually listen to my son. Even though he talks incessantly and sometimes I am really tempted to tune him out.

And I worry too. I worry that he's not as bright as his counterparts. That he'll struggle with reading like his dad. That he'll lag behind his counterparts. That if he ends up going to school, he'll hate it and hate learning. That if he is homeschooled, I'll screw up and he'll hate learning all the same. I then remind myself about his inherent worth and the damage that I am still trying to undo in myself from years of being compared to others. Years of competing and never measuring up in my parents' eyes. I try to relax and let him learn things at his own pace and this kind of reaffirms my desire to homeschool him because if I succeed at respecting him, who he is and what he is worth in this regard, he will be all the better for it. So he may not grasp a certain concept as well as other 4 year olds might but if I just take a minute and look, I am sure to come up with a list of things that other 4 year olds struggle with but Z1 does with ease. There really is no use in comparisons.

I hope to be able to give my son things my parents never gave me. Somehow, I must find ways to convey Igbo culture to him. I want him to master an instrument or an art or something . . . to know that accomplishment. I want him to always feel free to come to me with any and everything, big and small and know that while I may not always be happy, I will always be there. Even if I can't do anything, just to listen to him.

But beyond all that . . . I love that boy with everything in me. He is sweet. He is generous. He is thoughtful. He is kind and loving. He chose me to come through and I'm grateful. These four years have been some of the best of my life.

No Workout Today

Z2 woke up at 6:20AM. Usually his dad holds him until 7:00 but it was hot last night and the doors to the bedroom were open so he was able to get out without his father knowing. In he walks just as I'm about to get the DVD going. On the one hand, I'm bummed that I won't be able to squeeze a workout in today and I know I need to. But on the other hand, I'm relieved.

I'm tired. Really tired. I've been running around doing all kinds of activities with the kids daily while trying to keep the household running. The hubby is busy painting and doing other household work that really needs to get done when the weather is warm so he appreciates me taking the boys out to give him time and space to do what he need to. But I really need a break and there's none in sight. The hubby suggested I slow down the pace of activities but honestly, being in the house with the boys can be more stressful than being out with them. And I don't know . . . I'm just not one of those folks who enjoys sitting alone in the backyard--I'd rather be around other people even if we're not talking, at a busy playground or pool. Still, I'm kind of looking forward to the start of the school year--I feel like this frenetic, "gotta squeeze the most out of summer" energy will die down a little and I'll be able to relax. Or at least I hope so.

I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that I can do a little exercise this morning after the hubby gets up. I know exercise does so much for me mentally and physically although, unfortunately, the scale is still not moving!! I'm okay with that though because I realize that I really do need to change the way I eat. Yesterday was day one of that attempt: smaller meals more frequently with more emphasis on protein. I'll keep you posted on if it's making a difference.

My Heart Stopped

We've been going to the pool once a week this summer. Z2 absolutely loves water and has a ball every time. It took Z1 a little time to warm up to the water (swimming classes at the YMCA were a complete and utter bust) but now he loves the pool. He immerses himself in the water with unabated enthusiasm.

Yesterday we were at the pool and after about 2 1/2 hours, we were ready to go. I wanted to go visit my sister in her new first apartment down in the city and it was threatening to rain. So I was focused on getting Z2 diapered and dressed quickly. When I turned around, Z1 was gone. I mean, it felt like I looked away for 5 seconds. My friends who were with me didn't see him leave either. I looked this way and that. No sign of him. I walked over to the pool where he usually plays. Not there. Looked at the wading pool. Nope. Maybe he had to use the bathroom? I ran to the ladies' room hollering his name. Not there. Men's room, perhaps? Not there. I started seeing images in my head of someone walking off with my baby. Started seeing images of him floating face down in the water. My heart just stopped

My friend notifies the park rangers and just as I'm about to lose it, here comes Z1 trotting over like it.is.all.good. I asked him where he was and he says so nonchalantly that he was "in the water". No clue what I've been going through. He must have been close to the three feet side because he was not at the 1 foot end. I hold him and talk sternly about how he must tell me when he's going somewhere and stay away from the deep end. Really, all I wanted to do was throttle him. But he's so young and I can tell he can't really grasp the enormity of what he just did.

I was shaken but so relieved to find him. And happy also that he wasn't really lost. I remember being lost as a child and the sheer terror of it.

Summer fun.

Z1-isms

I was getting ready to brush Z1's teeth this morning.  Here's how the conversation went:

Me:  How'd you get to be so handsome?

Z1:  I practice.

I was rolling on the floor with laughter.  

"What kind of mother lets her child do that?"

In two months, Z1 will be four years old. Recently, he has been refusing to sit in the double stroller when we are walking.  He'll unstrap himself and hop out while I'm pushing or just generally pitch a fit if I insist he stays in there.   Now, he defers to reason most of the time--like if it's raining and he doesn't want to get wet (because the stroller has a rain cover).  But ordinarily, he would rather walk or more accurately, run, i.e. not hold my hand.  Now, I've tried the harness buddy but he just pulls at it until I realize I feel like I'm trying to restrain a puppy.  He really just wants some freedom.

I don't have a problem with that.  I've laid down some ground rules for him.

1. When I say stop, he has to stop on the dime.  I usually tell him to stop before he gets to an active driveway or to the corner/end of the sidewalk.
2. He stays a certain distance in front of me (he can never be behind me).
3. In busy areas or to cross the street he has to hold my hand or get into the stroller.
4. Stay as far away from the curb as possible.  

Z1 is a little guy with boundless energy and what I've found is that giving him that little freedom to run it off really, really helps him.  (It also helps that, bless his soul, he is not a fast runner.  In fact, I like to joke that he looks like he's pretending to run when he's in fact running full speed--not to his hearing of course!)  What I've also found is how much society frowns on everything.  I can't tell you how many folks say to him, "Wait for your mother" when I'm not shouting or screaming at him to wait for me.  Others say, "Hold his hand . . . it's too dangerous."

Now, I'll admit there's some risk to letting him walk on his own but really the biggest risk is him running out into the street.  But we've really covered the dangers of the street and how to cross a street safely and furthermore, the condition of him walking is that he stops when I say stop.  And I say stop well before he gets to the street corner to let momentum catch up.  He has always stopped.  There might be a time in the future when I tell him to stop and he won't stop but I'm guessing it's the kid who's been forced to hold mom's hand all the time that will go buck wild and run into the street at his first opportunity.  

Anyway, it's quite hilarious to me that so many folks have things to say.  Z2 is still in the stroller so usually I'm pushing him and letting Zion do his thing. I generally take the double stroller just in case Z1 gets tired or something.  When Z1 is riding in the stroller, it's endless comments about how he's just too big to be in a stroller--that he should be walking.   Even the harness buddy garnered me some commentary and nasty looks ("Just let him walk").  (((big eye roll here)))  What exactly do  you people want from me?  Leave me alone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just the other day, I dropped into the health food store just to get a patty for Z1.  It was raining and the rain cover was over the stroller (both children were in the stroller).  A woman walks in, "You know, that's very dangerous--you should take the plastic off or they could suffocate."  Really?  So I'm putting my kids in mortal danger here?  Wow . . . Z1 is almost 4 and can take the damn cover off himself.   Z2 constantly peels apart the velcro that seals the cover to peek out at me and smile--he doesn't seem to mind getting wet doing it either.  

I'm not really sure what the expectation is but as a mother, I know that everyone thinks they know and you don't.  I know people say they want to help but no, I don't think that's really true.   Maybe I'm just a cynic but I think folks just love to feel superior to someone else any chance they get.  "I would never let my child do that" and "What kind of mother does that?"  I get it.  We all judge.  But in the arena of raising kids, it seems to be a judgment free-for-all.  

Maybe if my town had a decent playground to walk to, I'd have a different take on the matter.  I know Z1 would agree to hold my hand for 10 minutes if it meant 45 to 60 minutes of free play but that's not the reality.  We walk around town for pleasure and for exercise and I just can't see how it's fair to make a 4 year old boy hold my hand all.the.time.   

Anyway, I'm always self-reflective on what I allow my kids to do and why I'm insistent on some things and lenient on others. In this instance, I think we'll keep things the way they are.   

Photo Credit:  "I want to hold your hand" by Matt McGee on Flickr.com

Refuse to Be a Victim Seminar

The hubby is anti-firearms, i.e. he doesn't want me to get a gun, doesn't want a gun in the house. I do. I want one and I want to learn to use one very well. I believe when children are young, you keep the firearm 100% out of their reach. As they get older and can understand a bit more and get the concept of death, you explain to them what it is.

Anyway, there are other means of self-defense and while I'm not really interested in taking a formal martial arts class, something really appealed to me. It's the "Refuse to Be a Victim" Seminar offered by the NRA which I discovered after following the link on the post "Somebody is Killing Black Mothers and Daughters" on the blog What About Our Daughters. I've already found the closest seminar to me and it seems like it is an ongoing thing. It's very reasonable price-wise too. Well, my emergency preparation goals this week include finding out the schedule and signing up. I still think a firearm has its place but I'm hoping this class will give me confidence in my ability to defend myself and my babies since so often it's just me and them.

I believe in self-defense and self-love. To me, self-defense and self-love go hand-in-hand. Yes, I'm all about peace and harmony. But you can't practice peace and harmony if you're dead. And in these difficult times, I know we'll start to see more and more acts of desperation, sometimes violent. It only makes sense to learn how to keep you and yours safe.

How do you feel about firearms? Self-defense classes? Home security systems? Etc . . . ?