as i listen to the Buena Vista Social Club on my ipod i grow more and more excited about our little family trip to mexico. sometimes i think i must have been a mexican socialite in my past life. i know, i don't believe in past lives. and i'm irish and italian, among other things, but mostly those two, so why do i identify with mexican? i don't know. the music just stirs something inside of me, it's like being home. whenever i visit mexico it feels so comfortable even though i don't speak the language. maybe i'm just having crazy dreams again, trying to make sense of little emotions that don't need to be tied to a larger meaning. sigh.
scattered around my desk here ("my desk" is just the desk in the guest room that i tend to scatter my shit on but which tony also scatters shit on! it faces the busy street but has a decent blocker of the big tree in front of our house so i don't feel totally like i'm in a fishbowl sitting here at night) are all the makings of Teagan's birth announcements. is there a statute of limitations for sending out birth announcements? i'll send one to people who have even met her already, it's just about officially welcoming our special addition. but i've gone totally crackhead on these announcements, handwriting, cutting out, gluing, etc. i wonder if some people won't just open them, smile, and toss it in the trash. that's fine. i mean, that's not my preference but it's the risk you take. i am putting a lot of love and heart into each of these announcements but that's what i want to do, i don't even consider there's another way. sometimes as i'm gluing or drawing i wonder if they won't be viewed as juvenile and then i say Fuck It, this is what i'm doing because it's what i want to do to announce my daughter and that's that. but dude, it's taking me a loooooong time!!! i have a deadline for myself to finish them by the end of September...oye!
i'm feeling totally great these days despite a mysterious pain in my right ear. i swear my therapist deserves the nobel peace prize! i told her in our last session that me & one of my besties sing the praises of our therapists when we get together for cat chat. i can imagine my friend & i parading down the city streets with our therapist up on some nobel carrying chair on our shoulders, the common folk tossing confetti our way. i was concerned that my last blog might sound like i had a crush on my therapist. well it's just about someone who has so hugely helped change my life and who i am so grateful to and admire. that being the case, so many musicians could be my therapists. Madonna. R.E.M. George Michael. Smashing Pumpkins. Sisters of Mercy. Depeche Mode. Hole. Judas Priest. Scorpions. The Smiths. Tori Amos. Candyskins. Talking Heads. The Doors. Arcade Fire. Concrete Blonde. The Eagles. Metallica. J.Lo. Peter Gabriel. INXS. OMG i could go on and on...
my best friend doesn't read my blog (because years ago when he was writing his own and i wasn't reading it we made a pact that we wouldn't question each other about our blogs...apparently at my request...but the thing was i already knew everything that was going on with him so to read his blog was just to reread what i already knew but in a sanitized version. the pact has stuck regardless.) and therefore assumes i'm bashing him in it but of course he's just joking and of course i'm not. bashing that is. i made him dinner tonight since i was home alone and we caught up on our lives, oh how the times have changed from when he finished grad school and moved to SF and shared my studio on Bush Street with me, sleeping on an air mattress on the floor. Oh the stories those walls could tell!! but that's all to be revealed in my memoir...someday. at the moment my other bestie (the female one) is supporting me, singing my praises & encouraging me on my writing ventures... regarding my memoirs or this blog or...there's so much in my head i want to put in print. but it takes time availability and coinciding creative inspirations. not always so easy to get all in line! but someday it will be.
tony & i have been having some date nights lately, at long last, with my mom coming up for the weekend and watching our cubs as we go out for drinks & dinner. one night we took the tandem out and that was awesome. feeling the air in my face, pumping my legs and feeling the blood flowing through my body, checking out the interiors of apts through lighted windows as we cruised by. i love that! seeing what color people have painted their rooms, what's on their walls, what they are willing the world to see through that main window to their world. of course i see it all in a few seconds only, trying to set it to memory if i like the wall color or some other design distinction. sigh...oh design and architecture, more of my loves...to design, build and decorate my own home. sure, add that to the list of things i want to do in my lifetime!!
it's funny how time changes things. on our last date night tony & i went to Hobson's Choice, a bar in the Haight that has punchbowls as their specialty but is generally an all around fun, crazy bar. It's on a corner and those two entire walls are windows so you can check out all the freaks walking by outside and believe me, there are plenty of them in the Haight! I have several memories from this place and was revisiting them all as i sat there waiting for Tony to go home and get the wallet he forgot! One was with my dad and a woman he was dating along with my sister and my ex boyfriend. Another is of my sister & i when an interesting guy hit on me that i later went on 1 date with. There was one my mom was in...that night ended ugly with me barfing off the curb outside Cha Cha Cha just down the street where I drank too much sangria after having too much punch at Hobsons'...yes, all with my mom. Oh no, she wasn't drinking! Hahahaha! We were just hanging out. God i love my mom. Someday i'll probably be watching tyler or teagan (or both) yacking in the corner of some public place after consuming too much alcohol. Sigh...isn't that all about growing up? Hmmm, maybe not. But it's my history, so there it is, and here i am. yah, gotta figure out the right approach with my kids when teaching about drugs & alcohol...thank god i've got a few years to refine that lecture!
whew the time just flies when i'm writing and i need to get the F to bed! kids do not care, nor do they even know, when you are less than rested and they need you. these days i pick and choose my late nights, balancing the risk of feeling like total crap with what i might accomplish by staying up late, be that just some personal enjoyment or actual productive work!
so off to bed i go...jeezuz i hope that's not teagan i hear crying upstairs. please please please no, for so many reasons. sigh.
word of the week is "beauty."
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Friday night thoughts
Ascending the stairs with my precious burrito baby held close to my chest, preceded by the Norch taking each stair with ownership, I feel a cat pass by me going down and note that it must be Mr. Rabbit as I can hear Georgia meowing up ahead, probably "leading" Boris up the darkened staircase. Georgia and Rabbit do not get along and do not share space well, not that Georgia and Boris get along at all either though. At the top of the stairs I push the door open to the right and with one hand fix the bassinet just inside the room before placing my sweet little package down in what I hope to be a warm, snug, safe place for her to rest. I call for Boris to follow me as I leave and say a silent prayer that the cats will leave my baby alone and not curl up with/on her for warmth. This whole parenting thing is just insanity. On the one hand it's not that difficult to keep these little humans alive, fed, nurtured, thriving, etc. On the other hand there is danger at every corner and it's just a fucking miracle that any, or most, of us make it through childhood!
It's Friday night and Tony has gone out with friends...who we just entertained in our entertaining kitchen for approx an hour before they kicked themselves out to what they intended to do. What do I care? Here I am just hanging out, another fun filled Friday night at home! Woo Hoo! But I say that in stupid humor, it doesn't really bother me. Thank god I partied my ASS off before having kids!! Now when it's Friday night Tony & I look at each other and go "Friday night!!!" but then are in bed by 9!! But I'm happy to be writing, it will equate to a productive night for me and really, how many of us have Productive Friday Nights after all?! :)
I guess that depends on what you call "productive."
So tonight we went to the Speakeasy brewery for "Firkin Friday" which is like a happy hour but at the brewery and kids are welcome. It's great for parents with new or little kids that just want to go out for a drink or two without getting a babysitter for the whole night. We've been going for at least a year now (not every Friday mind you) and love it - great beer at just $3 a pint and we can bring the cubs?! How can you lose?! Tonight there was this random little blond girl who couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 who was outside doing splits and then writing Kanji with her electric blue colored chalk all over the concrete. At first I didn't pay attention but then realized what she was doing and then couldn't take my eyes off her. I wondered what she was writing..."Barbie rules!" "Democracy is dead!" "I love ice cream!" A woman walked up to me and put her hand on Teagan's back through the Ergo carrier, almost as if she were putting her hand on my pregnant belly (no i'm not pregnant!), and said "This be Gram & Auntie singin' the church hymns on Sunday" and I was like ???? Then she had a little conversation with Teagan and pretended to hear Teagan telling her something to which she would not reveal to me. No, she wasn't wasted, she was happy & religious and it was sweet.
Next I was having a seat inside on a folding chair by the loading dock, bouncing as ever to keep Teagan happy, and trying to "feed her" the pacifier when this tall man stops as he's walking by, dressed in all black with a Speakeasy leather jacket, shorn hair and 3 large gauge hoop earrings in his left ear. "How old?" he asks me, to which I reply that she's going to be 3 months old next week. "Aaaawe, I have an 8 month old at home. She's so cute!" to which I thank him as I'm now bouncing her eagerly and teasing her tongue with the pacifier until she grabs hold and sucks, thereby abandoning the screaming she's suddenly so intent on doing.
"Is she hungry?" the guy asks. Mother fucker. "No, she's just fussy" I reply. "Have you tried different pacifiers?" he now presses "because the one you are using failed miserably with us!" "Well this is the one the lactation nurse recommended to me" I defend. "We went through every kind of pacifier so I say fuck what the nurse says, go with what works!" the man suggests. I try defending my position, talking briefly about Teagan's latching issue in the beginning and then just realize I don't need to convince this guy so kinda just trail off with my story and go quiet. He showed me a picture on his iPhone of his two children, which were very cute so I told him so, and soon he moved on. This part of sharing info/suggestions/photos, etc. with fellow parents always trips me out. Esp the parents trip me out. They just aren't who I thought they'd be, but then anyone can be a parent. Maybe only the "weird" ones feel comfortable coming up to me...with my crazy red hair, pierced nose & free spirit vibe emanating. Whatever.
I was way late to therapy today. I'd love to blame it on my kids or my husband but it was all on me. I was doing my make-up (as Tyler was playing "make-up" right along with me, to which I'm now just chill about instead of freaking when he grabs my brushes and starts dipping them in every different color shadow, blush, etc.) and cradling Teagan in my lap, totally on-time, but then had to feed Teagan & everything else just fell apart, including needing to get gas. So I was 20 minutes late. Our sessions always seem to start with an audible, exaggerated sigh from both my therapist & i when i sit and then her asking "how are you dear?" I decided to be totally honest this time...ok, I'm generally totally honest with my therapist anyway, just work with me here. I tell her I'm doing great but that I know our time is limited (she's an "Early Start" counselor at Kaiser which means she's available to pregnant and up to 1 year post-partum patients only) and I hesitate to say I'm doing good because I still want to be able to see her for as long as I can. But I do admit to doing great, we chat about it and then I try to throw in some doubt as to just HOW GREAT i am actually doing - because quite honestly it's a very scary place for me to be, feeling good, assuming & expecting that just around the corner my black cloud is going to envelope & suffocate me again. We make another appointment in two weeks and I can relax. Later at home I will search for her on FB and surprisingly very easily find her (her name seems so common that I'm shocked she pops up immediately) and she has no restrictions or privacy settings which is also very surprising considering her line of work. I sift through her photos, her status updates, etc. and suddenly feel like I'm totally spying on someone in a deviant way. Her profile pic is beautiful, smiling and obviously caught in a moment of total joy which isn't something I see in our sessions really. I want to friend her but then think that definitely crosses the line between patient and doctor although I feel that she's more like a friend to me than my doctor. Maybe she has checked out my FB page? I resolve to wait until our time is up...as patient and doctor at Kaiser...and then see if we can be friends on the outside. Boy this Facebook thing has really changed the world, hasn't it?
It's getting late...I should get to bed. Teagan and Tyler seem to be playing tag each night as far as who is going to wake up crying and needing attention...so much for Teagan's record number of weeks in a row she's slept through the night. Ugh! Sigh...I swear all I want right now is to sleep through the night and get to sleep in tomorrow morning. Hah - such pipe dreams and crazy ideas! There was more I wanted to write about but now I forget...and am more focused on the fact that I have make-up on needing to be washed off before I can crawl into bed.
Word of the week is "enjoy."
It's Friday night and Tony has gone out with friends...who we just entertained in our entertaining kitchen for approx an hour before they kicked themselves out to what they intended to do. What do I care? Here I am just hanging out, another fun filled Friday night at home! Woo Hoo! But I say that in stupid humor, it doesn't really bother me. Thank god I partied my ASS off before having kids!! Now when it's Friday night Tony & I look at each other and go "Friday night!!!" but then are in bed by 9!! But I'm happy to be writing, it will equate to a productive night for me and really, how many of us have Productive Friday Nights after all?! :)
I guess that depends on what you call "productive."
So tonight we went to the Speakeasy brewery for "Firkin Friday" which is like a happy hour but at the brewery and kids are welcome. It's great for parents with new or little kids that just want to go out for a drink or two without getting a babysitter for the whole night. We've been going for at least a year now (not every Friday mind you) and love it - great beer at just $3 a pint and we can bring the cubs?! How can you lose?! Tonight there was this random little blond girl who couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 who was outside doing splits and then writing Kanji with her electric blue colored chalk all over the concrete. At first I didn't pay attention but then realized what she was doing and then couldn't take my eyes off her. I wondered what she was writing..."Barbie rules!" "Democracy is dead!" "I love ice cream!" A woman walked up to me and put her hand on Teagan's back through the Ergo carrier, almost as if she were putting her hand on my pregnant belly (no i'm not pregnant!), and said "This be Gram & Auntie singin' the church hymns on Sunday" and I was like ???? Then she had a little conversation with Teagan and pretended to hear Teagan telling her something to which she would not reveal to me. No, she wasn't wasted, she was happy & religious and it was sweet.
Next I was having a seat inside on a folding chair by the loading dock, bouncing as ever to keep Teagan happy, and trying to "feed her" the pacifier when this tall man stops as he's walking by, dressed in all black with a Speakeasy leather jacket, shorn hair and 3 large gauge hoop earrings in his left ear. "How old?" he asks me, to which I reply that she's going to be 3 months old next week. "Aaaawe, I have an 8 month old at home. She's so cute!" to which I thank him as I'm now bouncing her eagerly and teasing her tongue with the pacifier until she grabs hold and sucks, thereby abandoning the screaming she's suddenly so intent on doing.
"Is she hungry?" the guy asks. Mother fucker. "No, she's just fussy" I reply. "Have you tried different pacifiers?" he now presses "because the one you are using failed miserably with us!" "Well this is the one the lactation nurse recommended to me" I defend. "We went through every kind of pacifier so I say fuck what the nurse says, go with what works!" the man suggests. I try defending my position, talking briefly about Teagan's latching issue in the beginning and then just realize I don't need to convince this guy so kinda just trail off with my story and go quiet. He showed me a picture on his iPhone of his two children, which were very cute so I told him so, and soon he moved on. This part of sharing info/suggestions/photos, etc. with fellow parents always trips me out. Esp the parents trip me out. They just aren't who I thought they'd be, but then anyone can be a parent. Maybe only the "weird" ones feel comfortable coming up to me...with my crazy red hair, pierced nose & free spirit vibe emanating. Whatever.
I was way late to therapy today. I'd love to blame it on my kids or my husband but it was all on me. I was doing my make-up (as Tyler was playing "make-up" right along with me, to which I'm now just chill about instead of freaking when he grabs my brushes and starts dipping them in every different color shadow, blush, etc.) and cradling Teagan in my lap, totally on-time, but then had to feed Teagan & everything else just fell apart, including needing to get gas. So I was 20 minutes late. Our sessions always seem to start with an audible, exaggerated sigh from both my therapist & i when i sit and then her asking "how are you dear?" I decided to be totally honest this time...ok, I'm generally totally honest with my therapist anyway, just work with me here. I tell her I'm doing great but that I know our time is limited (she's an "Early Start" counselor at Kaiser which means she's available to pregnant and up to 1 year post-partum patients only) and I hesitate to say I'm doing good because I still want to be able to see her for as long as I can. But I do admit to doing great, we chat about it and then I try to throw in some doubt as to just HOW GREAT i am actually doing - because quite honestly it's a very scary place for me to be, feeling good, assuming & expecting that just around the corner my black cloud is going to envelope & suffocate me again. We make another appointment in two weeks and I can relax. Later at home I will search for her on FB and surprisingly very easily find her (her name seems so common that I'm shocked she pops up immediately) and she has no restrictions or privacy settings which is also very surprising considering her line of work. I sift through her photos, her status updates, etc. and suddenly feel like I'm totally spying on someone in a deviant way. Her profile pic is beautiful, smiling and obviously caught in a moment of total joy which isn't something I see in our sessions really. I want to friend her but then think that definitely crosses the line between patient and doctor although I feel that she's more like a friend to me than my doctor. Maybe she has checked out my FB page? I resolve to wait until our time is up...as patient and doctor at Kaiser...and then see if we can be friends on the outside. Boy this Facebook thing has really changed the world, hasn't it?
It's getting late...I should get to bed. Teagan and Tyler seem to be playing tag each night as far as who is going to wake up crying and needing attention...so much for Teagan's record number of weeks in a row she's slept through the night. Ugh! Sigh...I swear all I want right now is to sleep through the night and get to sleep in tomorrow morning. Hah - such pipe dreams and crazy ideas! There was more I wanted to write about but now I forget...and am more focused on the fact that I have make-up on needing to be washed off before I can crawl into bed.
Word of the week is "enjoy."
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
just light stuff
My poor not-feeling-well hubby has passed out upstairs in bed watching some 70's Goldie Hawn/Warren Beatty movie so I thought I'd take the opportunity to tap out a few things. Gonna keep it to the lighter side of life since my last two posts were kinda heavy.
Teagan has been sleeping through the night for 3 weeks now!! Score!! Tyler, on the other hand, is still waking up 1-3 times each night! WTF?! We decided the other night it was high time to put our feet down & practice some tough love. We've prepared ourselves for a few nights or even a week of painful hours laying in bed reassuring each other that Tyler wasn't in fact going to die from crying or hate us for life or any other such silly thing. Last night Tony gave Tyler the 411 on our plan, we would come see him the 1st time he cried but only to make sure he was ok and reassure him we were in the other room but not to pick him up or rock him and that we would not come back if he cried again. Well, either he was really tired or actually understood and just saved us all some grief because he slept through! When I woke up this morning I almost felt kinda groggy, like I'd had too much sleep! Hah! So we'll see how tonight goes, I have a feeling last night was a fluke. But here I am feeling all cocky about my ability to get a good night sleep and am staying up to have some Tiffy time dinking around on the internet.
I'm also doing better with the breastfeeding, perhaps thanks to the Nursing Tea I've been drinking tons of each day. I like it cold, it's easier to drink more of it. I guess it's the Fenugreek herb that's the ticket. The nurse at the lactation center told me it wasn't just to increase production but also increases the pressure of release. Basically I was hooked up to the milking contraption this morning, pumping away and exclaiming loudly as I watched in awe "hey-hey, whoa, sweetie you gotta see this, i'm a fire hose over here!" to which of course Tony was completely uninterested in, or so that was my take. It was pretty crazy! Gotta rebuild my arsenal in the freezer, we're down to just a few bags of milk and that makes me nervous.
I finally met one of my goals as a mom to get Tyler involved in some things outside the house, as well as me.
So Tuesday mornings we go to Tot Time at the Noe Valley Rec Center which is kinda a glorified playtime but also has a little segment of music time (they sing songs and "play instruments") and art/chalk time when they put out materials for some little art project or you can go outside and scribble with chalk on the pavement. On Wednesday mornings we go to Tot Picasso which is in the very same place and many of the same kids are there and is again a glorified playtime, as the gymnasium where it is held is filled with toddler specific toys, climbing things, riding things, etc. In this "class" though the focus IS art, which means they put out materials for 3 different art projects. I've discovered this class is really more for me than Tyler! He has very little interest in making these little art projects...painting, stamping, gluing, glittering, etc...though he'll give it a go for a few minutes and then announce to me he wants to go play. Usually the project is heavily guided by me as well, not that I'm doing it for him or telling him what to do but he needs some instruction and encouragement. There's several kids though that just go to town, really getting into it and spending a lot more time at the art table than out with the toys. I'm just stoked to finally have "art work" to display on the fridge and of course proudly show Tony when we get home, pointing out places I think Tyler excelled "look at the brush strokes here!" "check out the use of all colors there!" etc. to which Tony looks at me like "uh huh, you crazy!" but he likes it too.
As for MY stuff, I'm easing back into the exercise and spiritual support by doing yoga. I signed up for a new student pass at the Bernal Heights Yoga studio where I got 14 days (or 14 classes, 1 each day) for $25 and Tony has been a sweetheart watching the little ones when I go. It's been easiest for all for me to go first thing in the morning so at 645 a.m. I'm out the door with my rolled up mat under my arm heading up the hill. I just love how quiet the city is at that time, still not totally light out, the air feeling a touch damp. By the time I get out at 815 the hustle and bustle is in full swing but I'm still riding high on my yoga vibe. I love this studio, the teachers are great, the room is nice and for the most part I find the other attendees no-nonsense. Maybe it's the time of day and none of us are totally awake, but there's not a lot of chitty-chat or silliness. Although it's also kinda funny & awkward how we're all in there stretching or "meditating" in our own little ways on our mats before class starts. It's like, you know you're checking everyone out through sideways sneak glances so they must be doing the same...right? Or maybe they could care less about me and I should in turn care less about them. It's funny, I feel like serious yoga people are kinda snobby and I'll even accept that label myself. But you'd think these people would be the quasi-hippy free lovin', carrot eatin', animal lovin', earth friendly bunch and therefore would be a lot warmer. Again, maybe it's the time of day. But of course we aren't there to make friends, at least I'm not. I'm there to not have a baby sucking on my tit or a toddler climbing on my back and to not hear "critter" & "sneech" (Tony's pet names for me du jour) a hundred times in 5 minutes! I'm there to get back in touch with my body, this temple that grew and popped out 2 beautiful human beings, to stretch, breathe and focus on every little muscle in my body. I would consider myself above beginner level since I used to practice Bikrham yoga several times a week, although this isn't Bikrham so I sometimes feel a little bored by the repetition of the sun salutation etc. and damnit if downward facing dog isn't just kinda irritating. Alas, I'm enjoying it and though I'm sure I'm not going to melt off this extra baby weight with yoga alone, I'm sure it's doing my body good. Of course the first day I felt like I was going to barf, pass out & fall out in class and on the walk home thought I was going to poop my yoga pants! The next time I went it was actually a pilates class which I've done a little of at home via DVDs. I was appalled to discover I have virtually no ab muscles left after carrying 2 babies!! :( I've got a lot more work to do than I thought. Oh well, something to strive for. Tonight was my first yoga class at the rec center, in the very same room where Tyler runs around and plays two mornings a week so that took a little adjusting to. All the kid stuff is all pushed over to the side but it was still kinda weird. Then I really felt like a yoga snob as I checked out through sideways glances my fellow students who CLEARLY were not yoga people, but hey who am I to judge, good on them for signing up and coming out to this class. The teacher though rubbed me wrong too. It just FELT like Rec Center Yoga. She put music on!! She'd get us in one position and then go "oh wait, I'm doing this out of order, lay back down on your backs"! Where's the flow, Flo? I was irritated but then remembered I'd already paid (and it was cheap anyway) and it was time away for me and it was what I make of it. However I did leave with my head & tummy hurting. I've been feeling starved the last few days and my kids have been sick so who knows. Anyway, it feels great to have time where I'm just Tiffany again and not "mommy" or "critter."
Ok, I shouldn't tempt fate any longer so I'm going to hit the hay. Word of the week is "nourish."
Teagan has been sleeping through the night for 3 weeks now!! Score!! Tyler, on the other hand, is still waking up 1-3 times each night! WTF?! We decided the other night it was high time to put our feet down & practice some tough love. We've prepared ourselves for a few nights or even a week of painful hours laying in bed reassuring each other that Tyler wasn't in fact going to die from crying or hate us for life or any other such silly thing. Last night Tony gave Tyler the 411 on our plan, we would come see him the 1st time he cried but only to make sure he was ok and reassure him we were in the other room but not to pick him up or rock him and that we would not come back if he cried again. Well, either he was really tired or actually understood and just saved us all some grief because he slept through! When I woke up this morning I almost felt kinda groggy, like I'd had too much sleep! Hah! So we'll see how tonight goes, I have a feeling last night was a fluke. But here I am feeling all cocky about my ability to get a good night sleep and am staying up to have some Tiffy time dinking around on the internet.
I'm also doing better with the breastfeeding, perhaps thanks to the Nursing Tea I've been drinking tons of each day. I like it cold, it's easier to drink more of it. I guess it's the Fenugreek herb that's the ticket. The nurse at the lactation center told me it wasn't just to increase production but also increases the pressure of release. Basically I was hooked up to the milking contraption this morning, pumping away and exclaiming loudly as I watched in awe "hey-hey, whoa, sweetie you gotta see this, i'm a fire hose over here!" to which of course Tony was completely uninterested in, or so that was my take. It was pretty crazy! Gotta rebuild my arsenal in the freezer, we're down to just a few bags of milk and that makes me nervous.
I finally met one of my goals as a mom to get Tyler involved in some things outside the house, as well as me.
So Tuesday mornings we go to Tot Time at the Noe Valley Rec Center which is kinda a glorified playtime but also has a little segment of music time (they sing songs and "play instruments") and art/chalk time when they put out materials for some little art project or you can go outside and scribble with chalk on the pavement. On Wednesday mornings we go to Tot Picasso which is in the very same place and many of the same kids are there and is again a glorified playtime, as the gymnasium where it is held is filled with toddler specific toys, climbing things, riding things, etc. In this "class" though the focus IS art, which means they put out materials for 3 different art projects. I've discovered this class is really more for me than Tyler! He has very little interest in making these little art projects...painting, stamping, gluing, glittering, etc...though he'll give it a go for a few minutes and then announce to me he wants to go play. Usually the project is heavily guided by me as well, not that I'm doing it for him or telling him what to do but he needs some instruction and encouragement. There's several kids though that just go to town, really getting into it and spending a lot more time at the art table than out with the toys. I'm just stoked to finally have "art work" to display on the fridge and of course proudly show Tony when we get home, pointing out places I think Tyler excelled "look at the brush strokes here!" "check out the use of all colors there!" etc. to which Tony looks at me like "uh huh, you crazy!" but he likes it too.
As for MY stuff, I'm easing back into the exercise and spiritual support by doing yoga. I signed up for a new student pass at the Bernal Heights Yoga studio where I got 14 days (or 14 classes, 1 each day) for $25 and Tony has been a sweetheart watching the little ones when I go. It's been easiest for all for me to go first thing in the morning so at 645 a.m. I'm out the door with my rolled up mat under my arm heading up the hill. I just love how quiet the city is at that time, still not totally light out, the air feeling a touch damp. By the time I get out at 815 the hustle and bustle is in full swing but I'm still riding high on my yoga vibe. I love this studio, the teachers are great, the room is nice and for the most part I find the other attendees no-nonsense. Maybe it's the time of day and none of us are totally awake, but there's not a lot of chitty-chat or silliness. Although it's also kinda funny & awkward how we're all in there stretching or "meditating" in our own little ways on our mats before class starts. It's like, you know you're checking everyone out through sideways sneak glances so they must be doing the same...right? Or maybe they could care less about me and I should in turn care less about them. It's funny, I feel like serious yoga people are kinda snobby and I'll even accept that label myself. But you'd think these people would be the quasi-hippy free lovin', carrot eatin', animal lovin', earth friendly bunch and therefore would be a lot warmer. Again, maybe it's the time of day. But of course we aren't there to make friends, at least I'm not. I'm there to not have a baby sucking on my tit or a toddler climbing on my back and to not hear "critter" & "sneech" (Tony's pet names for me du jour) a hundred times in 5 minutes! I'm there to get back in touch with my body, this temple that grew and popped out 2 beautiful human beings, to stretch, breathe and focus on every little muscle in my body. I would consider myself above beginner level since I used to practice Bikrham yoga several times a week, although this isn't Bikrham so I sometimes feel a little bored by the repetition of the sun salutation etc. and damnit if downward facing dog isn't just kinda irritating. Alas, I'm enjoying it and though I'm sure I'm not going to melt off this extra baby weight with yoga alone, I'm sure it's doing my body good. Of course the first day I felt like I was going to barf, pass out & fall out in class and on the walk home thought I was going to poop my yoga pants! The next time I went it was actually a pilates class which I've done a little of at home via DVDs. I was appalled to discover I have virtually no ab muscles left after carrying 2 babies!! :( I've got a lot more work to do than I thought. Oh well, something to strive for. Tonight was my first yoga class at the rec center, in the very same room where Tyler runs around and plays two mornings a week so that took a little adjusting to. All the kid stuff is all pushed over to the side but it was still kinda weird. Then I really felt like a yoga snob as I checked out through sideways glances my fellow students who CLEARLY were not yoga people, but hey who am I to judge, good on them for signing up and coming out to this class. The teacher though rubbed me wrong too. It just FELT like Rec Center Yoga. She put music on!! She'd get us in one position and then go "oh wait, I'm doing this out of order, lay back down on your backs"! Where's the flow, Flo? I was irritated but then remembered I'd already paid (and it was cheap anyway) and it was time away for me and it was what I make of it. However I did leave with my head & tummy hurting. I've been feeling starved the last few days and my kids have been sick so who knows. Anyway, it feels great to have time where I'm just Tiffany again and not "mommy" or "critter."
Ok, I shouldn't tempt fate any longer so I'm going to hit the hay. Word of the week is "nourish."
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Purpose
As I make my way between crying children, up the stairs to soothe Tyler who isn't feeling well and therefore not wanting to go to sleep, back to the living room where Teagan screams from the swing because her little digestive system is still figuring itself out, back to Tyler who immediately says when I walk into his room "start Scout" (his little computerized puppy dog pal) to which I reply "you know how to start Scout, enough of this crying, you need to go to sleep!" back down to Teagan who was soothed and quiet before I headed upstairs but is now writhing and wailing again, I wonder to myself what purpose I am here on earth for? I really had no inkling of that answer before I became a mother and now I have just slightly more of an inkling. Knowing a helpless little human being depends on you for everything tends to make you feel pretty important and give your life some purpose after all. However, these days I'm looking for more. I like to tell myself my children are going to be VERY important someday, maybe a world leader or inventor of something that will revolutionize our way of life, etc. and that really gives me purpose...for a few minutes.
My "aunt" Nancy Prestopino passed away last Saturday after a long battle with Cancer. I didn't find out until Monday. I cried a lot that day. Since then I've just been psychoanalyzing everything about life and meaning and purpose. We don't ask to be born but here we are and life is what we make of it. Some of us make very different things of it, some of us make the same things of it, but at the end of the day it is our own and no one else's. One day we are here and another day we are not. So what do we do in between? Some of us are born into downright shitty, scary, inhumane situations all over the world and some are born...with a silver spoon in their mouth. I sometimes play this game when I'm driving around town where I see someone and I imagine they are someone else. Like this: I see a woman dressed in a business suit walking back to her office downtown after having lunch - then I imagine she were actually Angelina Jolie without everything that has made Angelina, Angelina. Or I'll see a guy making drinks at Starbucks and I'll imagine he's Donald Trump without the life that made him Donald Trump. It's kinda fun, kinda silly but also kinda trippy. Who could I have been? Who might I still be? Probably no one spectacular...although I'm pretty spectacular in my own way, in my own world. I like to think I am a good friend, mother, wife, daughter, sister, etc. who has made impacts on people's lives. That's pretty purposeful. Then again, those people will be dead someday too just like me.
I don't believe in heaven or hell, or god for that matter. I believe in Science and I believe in myself. When I die that's it, no mas, game over. It kinda sucks to believe that way, but I can't bring myself to believe any other way. I can't very well say R.I.P. because I don't think the person is "resting" anywhere and though I like to think they are now "in peace" that doesn't really work either. Maybe I could say N.I.P. - Not In Pain. I used to think I wanted to be buried somewhere where the loved ones I left behind can come visit me and bring flowers to my grave and so in some way I still have a place here. I hated the idea of my body, this vessel that has taken me all over the world, has born two children, has experienced love, laughter, tears, sorrow, fear, anger etc., being slid into some big oven and then burned to ash. We have one of our beloved late kitties in a box sitting on a bookshelf, at least we assume it's Bootsie in there and not a combination of Bootsie, Scooter, Fluffy and Peetie. I would like my ashes to be scattered somewhere in that case, somewhere I loved when I was alive...maybe the ocean or a river running through the Sierras. Or maybe someone would snort me, like one of my children, and then we could be one.
On Tuesday, the day after I found out Nancy passed away, I was reading through The Holistic Health Magazine which I picked up at the yoga studio last week (yep, I started doing yoga again, although I used to do Bikrham and for now I'm just doing the "regular" kind!) and it was like serendipity! Or coincidence? Or ironic timing? Anyway, I was engrossed in these articles about Self-Healing with Energy Medicine, the Spiritual Side of Exercise and Inner Resolve: An Essential Key to Cancer Survival and Healing. I ripped several pages out, scribbled notes in the margins and felt more and more empowered and resolute about my life as I swallowed another spoonful of old fashioned oatmeal with fresh blueberries. I have to be careful about the page tearing though, Tyler sees me do it and thinks that gives him carte blanche to tear out pages as well, in any and everything that has a page that can be torn out. Is all this hocus pocus or does it really work? Or does it just depend on the person. My aunt was such a healthy person, and I know she had the strongest will and resolve to beat Cancer. Why does it get some people and not others? I found a suspicious mole on my chest as I was breastfeeding Teagan the other day and I immediately made an appointment with the dermatologist to check it out, and the rest of my moles, but they can't see me until the end of the month. I'm trying not to freak out, it's probably nothing, but maybe it is and then what? Can I self-heal with energy medicine? I've already begun changing my eating habits back to how they were before I got pregnant with Tyler (vegan, unprocessed) my main purpose to lose the baby weight but also now to fend off Cancer, in any form. I have breast Cancer on my mother and father's side of the family though the doctors tell me I'm not at any extra risk. Really?!
I want to be a Health Coach and my purpose will be to help others take better care of themselves so they may live as long as possible. I suppose some people don't want to live that long, but then they won't be the ones paying me for my expertise, guidance and support. Taking money for that almost seems like a crime, but appreciation doesn't put food on the table. I've got some time and a lot of learning before I can officially embark on my version of saving the world, so for now I start with me. I must resolve to avoid negative thinking and work through toxic emotions such as anger, resentment, jealousy and guilt. I must resolve to put good food in my body and listen to what it needs, wants, doesn't tolerate and occasionally should indulge in. I must resolve to be active, to exercise and have fun. I must resolve to be true to my purpose and create clear intentions with every new page of my life that I turn. Does all this mean I won't die of Cancer though?? Well, I'm willing to take the chance.
I suppose I think too much about things instead of living my life. What about the mind over matter thing? A therapist once told me that I do over think everything! I'm not alone here right? Or is everyone else running around like the tv has gone to snow? Sometimes I think so the way they are living and what they are putting into their bodies, but who am I to judge? No, I'm too busy judging myself. Wait, that's another thing I must resolve to stop ;)
"My intention is to live life on purpose" - Nancy Prestopino, Dec 1943 - Sept 2011
And that she did.
My "aunt" Nancy Prestopino passed away last Saturday after a long battle with Cancer. I didn't find out until Monday. I cried a lot that day. Since then I've just been psychoanalyzing everything about life and meaning and purpose. We don't ask to be born but here we are and life is what we make of it. Some of us make very different things of it, some of us make the same things of it, but at the end of the day it is our own and no one else's. One day we are here and another day we are not. So what do we do in between? Some of us are born into downright shitty, scary, inhumane situations all over the world and some are born...with a silver spoon in their mouth. I sometimes play this game when I'm driving around town where I see someone and I imagine they are someone else. Like this: I see a woman dressed in a business suit walking back to her office downtown after having lunch - then I imagine she were actually Angelina Jolie without everything that has made Angelina, Angelina. Or I'll see a guy making drinks at Starbucks and I'll imagine he's Donald Trump without the life that made him Donald Trump. It's kinda fun, kinda silly but also kinda trippy. Who could I have been? Who might I still be? Probably no one spectacular...although I'm pretty spectacular in my own way, in my own world. I like to think I am a good friend, mother, wife, daughter, sister, etc. who has made impacts on people's lives. That's pretty purposeful. Then again, those people will be dead someday too just like me.
I don't believe in heaven or hell, or god for that matter. I believe in Science and I believe in myself. When I die that's it, no mas, game over. It kinda sucks to believe that way, but I can't bring myself to believe any other way. I can't very well say R.I.P. because I don't think the person is "resting" anywhere and though I like to think they are now "in peace" that doesn't really work either. Maybe I could say N.I.P. - Not In Pain. I used to think I wanted to be buried somewhere where the loved ones I left behind can come visit me and bring flowers to my grave and so in some way I still have a place here. I hated the idea of my body, this vessel that has taken me all over the world, has born two children, has experienced love, laughter, tears, sorrow, fear, anger etc., being slid into some big oven and then burned to ash. We have one of our beloved late kitties in a box sitting on a bookshelf, at least we assume it's Bootsie in there and not a combination of Bootsie, Scooter, Fluffy and Peetie. I would like my ashes to be scattered somewhere in that case, somewhere I loved when I was alive...maybe the ocean or a river running through the Sierras. Or maybe someone would snort me, like one of my children, and then we could be one.
On Tuesday, the day after I found out Nancy passed away, I was reading through The Holistic Health Magazine which I picked up at the yoga studio last week (yep, I started doing yoga again, although I used to do Bikrham and for now I'm just doing the "regular" kind!) and it was like serendipity! Or coincidence? Or ironic timing? Anyway, I was engrossed in these articles about Self-Healing with Energy Medicine, the Spiritual Side of Exercise and Inner Resolve: An Essential Key to Cancer Survival and Healing. I ripped several pages out, scribbled notes in the margins and felt more and more empowered and resolute about my life as I swallowed another spoonful of old fashioned oatmeal with fresh blueberries. I have to be careful about the page tearing though, Tyler sees me do it and thinks that gives him carte blanche to tear out pages as well, in any and everything that has a page that can be torn out. Is all this hocus pocus or does it really work? Or does it just depend on the person. My aunt was such a healthy person, and I know she had the strongest will and resolve to beat Cancer. Why does it get some people and not others? I found a suspicious mole on my chest as I was breastfeeding Teagan the other day and I immediately made an appointment with the dermatologist to check it out, and the rest of my moles, but they can't see me until the end of the month. I'm trying not to freak out, it's probably nothing, but maybe it is and then what? Can I self-heal with energy medicine? I've already begun changing my eating habits back to how they were before I got pregnant with Tyler (vegan, unprocessed) my main purpose to lose the baby weight but also now to fend off Cancer, in any form. I have breast Cancer on my mother and father's side of the family though the doctors tell me I'm not at any extra risk. Really?!
I want to be a Health Coach and my purpose will be to help others take better care of themselves so they may live as long as possible. I suppose some people don't want to live that long, but then they won't be the ones paying me for my expertise, guidance and support. Taking money for that almost seems like a crime, but appreciation doesn't put food on the table. I've got some time and a lot of learning before I can officially embark on my version of saving the world, so for now I start with me. I must resolve to avoid negative thinking and work through toxic emotions such as anger, resentment, jealousy and guilt. I must resolve to put good food in my body and listen to what it needs, wants, doesn't tolerate and occasionally should indulge in. I must resolve to be active, to exercise and have fun. I must resolve to be true to my purpose and create clear intentions with every new page of my life that I turn. Does all this mean I won't die of Cancer though?? Well, I'm willing to take the chance.
I suppose I think too much about things instead of living my life. What about the mind over matter thing? A therapist once told me that I do over think everything! I'm not alone here right? Or is everyone else running around like the tv has gone to snow? Sometimes I think so the way they are living and what they are putting into their bodies, but who am I to judge? No, I'm too busy judging myself. Wait, that's another thing I must resolve to stop ;)
"My intention is to live life on purpose" - Nancy Prestopino, Dec 1943 - Sept 2011
And that she did.
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