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.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The Cycle of Life
I just returned home last night from a little road trip up to Paradise, in Northern California, where I visited with a beloved family friend who is in her last days after a long fight with Cancer. I can't properly tell the full accurate story but it has been years that she's been having chemo off and on for cancer in her lungs, getting the thumbs up sign from her docs only to be back in chemo before long. Just earlier this year she underwent a surgery to remove a portion of one lung which the docs felt might very well deem her Cancer free, leaving her to enjoy the rest of her life, which there should have been plenty more of. It was probably only 3-4 months later she was told she had a tumor in her brain and various other places in her body. To me it was like the Cancer was extra pissed after she had the surgery and thought It would show her who was boss. I know, Cancer doesn't think. She decided to forge on with treatment, hoping to get through radiation and chemo with enough energy left in her to make it worth while - this was a very active woman who loved hiking, bicycling, walking, traveling and kayaking as often as she could, she swam everyday at home and taught at the local gym. When it wasn't just her adoring doggy by her side, perhaps it was one of her two grown children (friends so near and dear that we consider ourselves cousins) enjoying nature with her. She has 3 grandchildren (4 1/2, 2 3/4 & 2) to play with as well. After 15 radiation treatments to her brain she found out her white blood cell count was too low to move on to the chemo and at this point she decided she'd had enough. Who can blame her? Poor quality of life wasn't her ante for continued Cancer treatment. She is now at home for her last days with the help of her two children and hospice. Her son or daughter is always there with her, spending the night with her, taking care of her, enjoying their time with her, keeping her comfortable, etc. It's pain management now. And goodbyes.
When I told Tony I had to go up and see my "aunt" Nancy it was clear to me he didn't realize the importance of this woman in my life. Sure he knows how close I am with her children, aka my cousins, but not their parents. Other than my two grandmothers, I've been fortunate enough not to have gone through the pain of losing anyone else except my "uncle" Chris, Nancy's husband, who died from Cancer in a similar fashion when he was just in his early 50's. That was a hard one for me and this one is going to be even harder. My parents were good friends with Chris & Nancy before I was born and then when their son was born just 4 months after me it was pretty much set that we were as good as family. My parents divorced and my mom moved all over but we made many trips to Paradise to visit our "family" there before ultimately moving there when I was in 8th grade. To make a long story short (too late) this family might as well be my real family for all the love and memories I have for them all. It has been shitty watching Nancy going through chemo after chemo after recovery after setback after chemo etc. Of course not nearly as crappy as for her own kids. They've all always put on such a strong, positive front - whether or not that was how they felt behind closed doors who can say - and really, how else can you look at it? Gloom & doom will get you nowhere fast even if that's where you're headed.
On the drive up to Paradise I grappled with how to conduct myself during my visit with Nancy. After all, I was basically going up to say goodbye. I imagined what she might look like right now and where she would be seated in her house, then going up to her and hugging her and asking her how she is. Well hell, you can't ask THAT question! "Hi tiff, nice of you to visit, I'm dying thank you and how about yourself?" It's not funny at ALL. Same goes for her kids, my good friends, what do I say to them? "Hi Julie, so good to see you, how are you?" "Nice to see you too Tiff, my mom's dying and I have to watch the process every day, it sucks more than you'll ever know, thanks for asking." Son of a bitch. I talked about it with my mom and she helped me see it in a less morbid light. Nancy looked good, all things considered, and I greeted her with a hug & kiss and told her it was good to see her.
It comforts me to know Nancy lived a very full life, despite it being cut unfairly short in her mid 60's. It just feels like such a fucking raw deal. As I sat by Nancy's recliner, admiring the juicy orange nail color on her toes, I wondered how she was handling all this. As she's not needing to take any major narcotics, yet, she is still pretty with-it. At times I thought she wasn't so much there but then she'd answer whoever's question and it was clear she was just taking a little longer to think and/or answer. Her wedding came up as she talked with my mom, who was at the small ceremony in 1972, and Nancy asked her son to get her wedding album for her to look at. I have no idea when the last time was she looked at it but it felt really heavy to me now and I wondered what she was thinking. She'd lost her husband almost 20 years ago! She'd watched him slip away at home just as she was now. How bitter must she feel that this fucking Cancer stole her husband from her too early and is now stealing her from her children and grandchildren or has she already made her peace? I guess you have to make peace in order to save yourself the mental anguish in the end. Knowing these are your last days, not knowing how many more there are but at this point do you really hope for more than less as the pain increases, your faculties fail you and you look into your children's eyes wondering if it's the last time you will? Maybe if you are holding out for a special someone to come visit you. That's the other awkward thing - all these great friends, family, acquaintances coming to see you - to say goodbye. To enjoy a few final moments with this person. I suppose I'm looking at it terribly negatively. I mean, obviously I think it's wonderful that everyone is going to see her and visa versa and that she's still with-it. I wanted to go see her as soon as I could, I didn't want to see her as she gets worse. I didn't want that to be my last memory of her. Is that terrible to say? My last memory of her husband was seeing him driving through town in his adored VW bus, the biggest smile on his face! That was just before he died. So I'm glad for that short visit Sunday night, seeing her smile as her grandchildren, and my Tyler, played in the living room by her. She still looked great and I'll probably never forget those awesome soda-pop orange toenails!
But then there's the anger. Frustration. Bitterness. Confusion. Sadness. Those are emotions I'm struggling with now. I know we all have to die, just as sure as we are born we have an end to our time here. When I was discharged from the hospital after having Teagan and the nurse was pushing me down the hall in a wheelchair we passed a very old woman, walking hunched over and with a cane, her daughter(?) holding her arm for added support as they made their way slowly down the hallway. As I passed by with my treasure I couldn't help but feel a weird flood of emotions - guilt, sorrow, understanding, fear and acceptance. Here was a brand new life passing by one that is at the end of theirs. So many people are born, and die, everyday. But I don't know them all, I don't love them all. I have loved Nancy for 37 years, she has given me great support, advice and laughs and I'll always remember her infectious smile and the how she always thought things were "wonderful." She always had such a fun way of looking at things and was such a free spirit. I try to parent as I saw her parent because I thought & think so highly of it. It's just impossible, I'm finding, to paint a vivid picture of her with words, to try to do her justice. Alas, it's crystal clear in my mind and I hold fast to that. Her caringbridge website guestbook now has over 800 messages! 800!! She has touched so many people's lives.
When we left I gave her a hug again and another kiss and told her how great it was to see her. She thanked me for coming and told me it was good to see me too. Then she told me, as she looked across the living room at Tyler playing quietly with his Matchbox cars and at Teagan who was in the arms of my cousin's wife, that I have great kids and that Tyler is really neat. My eyes well with tears now remembering that. What a compliment! I'll never forget that. Last night before putting Teagan down for the night in her bassinet I just held her close and swayed gently, felt her little body breathing, kissed her warm head and cried. My precious little girl. Someday she and Tyler will lose me and they will live on to someday be lost by their children. To think of my children as old people and passing away makes me so sad. Why I sit and think about any of this when it is so far, hopefully, in the future is beyond me. Right now and today is what we have and I'm trying to remember to enjoy every minute of it.
I want to know everything, maybe someday I will
What I want is to find my place
Breathe the air and feel the sun on my children's face
That's what I want
I go round and round just like a circle
I can see a clearer picture
When I touch the ground I come full circle
to my place and I am home, I am home
I want to let go of all disappointment that's waiting for me
What I want is to live forever
Not defined by time and space
It's a lonely place
That's what I want for me
- from the album American Life
When I told Tony I had to go up and see my "aunt" Nancy it was clear to me he didn't realize the importance of this woman in my life. Sure he knows how close I am with her children, aka my cousins, but not their parents. Other than my two grandmothers, I've been fortunate enough not to have gone through the pain of losing anyone else except my "uncle" Chris, Nancy's husband, who died from Cancer in a similar fashion when he was just in his early 50's. That was a hard one for me and this one is going to be even harder. My parents were good friends with Chris & Nancy before I was born and then when their son was born just 4 months after me it was pretty much set that we were as good as family. My parents divorced and my mom moved all over but we made many trips to Paradise to visit our "family" there before ultimately moving there when I was in 8th grade. To make a long story short (too late) this family might as well be my real family for all the love and memories I have for them all. It has been shitty watching Nancy going through chemo after chemo after recovery after setback after chemo etc. Of course not nearly as crappy as for her own kids. They've all always put on such a strong, positive front - whether or not that was how they felt behind closed doors who can say - and really, how else can you look at it? Gloom & doom will get you nowhere fast even if that's where you're headed.
On the drive up to Paradise I grappled with how to conduct myself during my visit with Nancy. After all, I was basically going up to say goodbye. I imagined what she might look like right now and where she would be seated in her house, then going up to her and hugging her and asking her how she is. Well hell, you can't ask THAT question! "Hi tiff, nice of you to visit, I'm dying thank you and how about yourself?" It's not funny at ALL. Same goes for her kids, my good friends, what do I say to them? "Hi Julie, so good to see you, how are you?" "Nice to see you too Tiff, my mom's dying and I have to watch the process every day, it sucks more than you'll ever know, thanks for asking." Son of a bitch. I talked about it with my mom and she helped me see it in a less morbid light. Nancy looked good, all things considered, and I greeted her with a hug & kiss and told her it was good to see her.
It comforts me to know Nancy lived a very full life, despite it being cut unfairly short in her mid 60's. It just feels like such a fucking raw deal. As I sat by Nancy's recliner, admiring the juicy orange nail color on her toes, I wondered how she was handling all this. As she's not needing to take any major narcotics, yet, she is still pretty with-it. At times I thought she wasn't so much there but then she'd answer whoever's question and it was clear she was just taking a little longer to think and/or answer. Her wedding came up as she talked with my mom, who was at the small ceremony in 1972, and Nancy asked her son to get her wedding album for her to look at. I have no idea when the last time was she looked at it but it felt really heavy to me now and I wondered what she was thinking. She'd lost her husband almost 20 years ago! She'd watched him slip away at home just as she was now. How bitter must she feel that this fucking Cancer stole her husband from her too early and is now stealing her from her children and grandchildren or has she already made her peace? I guess you have to make peace in order to save yourself the mental anguish in the end. Knowing these are your last days, not knowing how many more there are but at this point do you really hope for more than less as the pain increases, your faculties fail you and you look into your children's eyes wondering if it's the last time you will? Maybe if you are holding out for a special someone to come visit you. That's the other awkward thing - all these great friends, family, acquaintances coming to see you - to say goodbye. To enjoy a few final moments with this person. I suppose I'm looking at it terribly negatively. I mean, obviously I think it's wonderful that everyone is going to see her and visa versa and that she's still with-it. I wanted to go see her as soon as I could, I didn't want to see her as she gets worse. I didn't want that to be my last memory of her. Is that terrible to say? My last memory of her husband was seeing him driving through town in his adored VW bus, the biggest smile on his face! That was just before he died. So I'm glad for that short visit Sunday night, seeing her smile as her grandchildren, and my Tyler, played in the living room by her. She still looked great and I'll probably never forget those awesome soda-pop orange toenails!
But then there's the anger. Frustration. Bitterness. Confusion. Sadness. Those are emotions I'm struggling with now. I know we all have to die, just as sure as we are born we have an end to our time here. When I was discharged from the hospital after having Teagan and the nurse was pushing me down the hall in a wheelchair we passed a very old woman, walking hunched over and with a cane, her daughter(?) holding her arm for added support as they made their way slowly down the hallway. As I passed by with my treasure I couldn't help but feel a weird flood of emotions - guilt, sorrow, understanding, fear and acceptance. Here was a brand new life passing by one that is at the end of theirs. So many people are born, and die, everyday. But I don't know them all, I don't love them all. I have loved Nancy for 37 years, she has given me great support, advice and laughs and I'll always remember her infectious smile and the how she always thought things were "wonderful." She always had such a fun way of looking at things and was such a free spirit. I try to parent as I saw her parent because I thought & think so highly of it. It's just impossible, I'm finding, to paint a vivid picture of her with words, to try to do her justice. Alas, it's crystal clear in my mind and I hold fast to that. Her caringbridge website guestbook now has over 800 messages! 800!! She has touched so many people's lives.
When we left I gave her a hug again and another kiss and told her how great it was to see her. She thanked me for coming and told me it was good to see me too. Then she told me, as she looked across the living room at Tyler playing quietly with his Matchbox cars and at Teagan who was in the arms of my cousin's wife, that I have great kids and that Tyler is really neat. My eyes well with tears now remembering that. What a compliment! I'll never forget that. Last night before putting Teagan down for the night in her bassinet I just held her close and swayed gently, felt her little body breathing, kissed her warm head and cried. My precious little girl. Someday she and Tyler will lose me and they will live on to someday be lost by their children. To think of my children as old people and passing away makes me so sad. Why I sit and think about any of this when it is so far, hopefully, in the future is beyond me. Right now and today is what we have and I'm trying to remember to enjoy every minute of it.
I want to know everything, maybe someday I will
What I want is to find my place
Breathe the air and feel the sun on my children's face
That's what I want
I go round and round just like a circle
I can see a clearer picture
When I touch the ground I come full circle
to my place and I am home, I am home
I want to let go of all disappointment that's waiting for me
What I want is to live forever
Not defined by time and space
It's a lonely place
That's what I want for me
- from the album American Life
Friday, August 19, 2011
Disclaimer
I've had to think, rethink, sleep on, start writing, delete, sleep on again, think and rethink this post so I sure hope it comes out the way I want.
I've been mulling around the issue for about 2 weeks now and have had some very interesting conversations with people about it. Everyone has their opinion, their individual situation and history. I've gone back and forth with the question - should I even be writing this blog? I post it on FB and I've got...wait, let me check...where the hell do I find how many friends I have?? Well, I've got a few, nothing outlandish like some people, but a comfortable chunk. How many of them are even reading this?!
I usually spend a couple hours writing each post, despite my lightning fast typing abilities ;) I think, I type, I stop and look out the window at people walking by my house, I check out the line across the street at Mitchell's Ice Cream (it's overcast, windy & cold out right now at 12:28 p.m. on a Friday and there's a couple sitting on the bench outside licking their ice cream cones and probably wondering which one of them had the bright idea of freezing their asses off like that!), I reread what I've written, delete some things, type some more... I have stories to tell, funny (I think) anecdotes I want to share, frustrations I want to air, etc, hoping to elicit emotion & provide food for thought for my readers. However, I never intended for those emotions or thoughts to be hurt or offense. Not to say I can't handle criticism (lie - but I'm working on that!) but what I mean is I never meant to hurt or offend anyone, and I have. I have apologized to these people but it strikes me that perhaps there are others who, for whatever reason, did not call me out and so for those of you I apologize too. If you know me well you know I have a rather crass sense of humor, a warped sense of reality & a vivid way of describing things. Some of this comes out in my writing. Sometimes I say things that make no sense or it's an inside joke or I mean it one way, and think my readers know what that way is, but they don't. How can they? Just like how can I know about everyone's situations, histories, sensitivities, etc? I would NEVER intentionally hurt or offend someone, that's not me. I'm also not a racist, I hate everyone equally ;) (that was a joke)
So all this has gotten me thinking about humor, criticism, opinions, judgements, etc. When is it ok to make fun of someone? Never? Comedians do it all the time - and I suppose they offend and make enemies along with gathering a following of devotees. I love Howard Stern but I know a lot of people don't and even though he makes me laugh he still causes my eyebrows to raise a lot as I mutter "wow, that's harsh!" I mean, he really speaks his mind, but that's his job. I'm not a shock-jock and nor do I want to be. Anything I've ever written that has offended anyone was purely accidental. I suppose I'm a bit naive and ignorant about the P.C. thing, not all of it but some. I want to raise my children to be intelligent, non-judgemental, polite people so maybe I need to look into a book on being P.C. - is there such a thing? I'm only half serious there. To be honest, I think everyone has the right to their own opinion, they have the right to judge and think what they may of anyone so long as they keep it to themselves. It might not be fair or right or any of that, but who is to say how we can feel? I don't agree with a lot of cultures' ways of treating women but that's their culture. Do I wish I could change it? Sure. Is that even possible? Not really. Is that a shitty attitude? Maybe.
Apparently it's ok to make fun of a certain group of people including lawyers & politicians - but why? They are people with feelings too. Don't they get upset when they are the brunt of a joke? Don't we care? Then there are drug addicts, homeless, murderers, etc., those people are all free reign right? But maybe not, we don't know what got them where they are. That old saying about not judging (or making fun of?) someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes is pretty solid advice. Then again sometimes I just want to say, Hey the world is a wreck, can't you take a joke? Why...So...Serious?
I've been advised by different people to either alter my writing or not change a thing. Well, I am who I am and if I can't write like me then I don't want to write at all. However, I recognize I need to think outside my little bubble sometimes and realize what I've said may be taken offense to, and therefore shouldn't say it. Other times I know not what I say. So here comes the disclaimer:
My blog is about me, my life, my experiences. Please do not take anything personally, I do not judge you, I am not even thinking about you and I don't mean that in a bad, selfish way. When I write I'm in my little world and I talk about the world according to me. If I offend thee, please forgive me. And please feel free to tell me if I do! I want you to enjoy reading my blog, but if you don't then please stop reading it. No offense taken.
I've been mulling around the issue for about 2 weeks now and have had some very interesting conversations with people about it. Everyone has their opinion, their individual situation and history. I've gone back and forth with the question - should I even be writing this blog? I post it on FB and I've got...wait, let me check...where the hell do I find how many friends I have?? Well, I've got a few, nothing outlandish like some people, but a comfortable chunk. How many of them are even reading this?!
I usually spend a couple hours writing each post, despite my lightning fast typing abilities ;) I think, I type, I stop and look out the window at people walking by my house, I check out the line across the street at Mitchell's Ice Cream (it's overcast, windy & cold out right now at 12:28 p.m. on a Friday and there's a couple sitting on the bench outside licking their ice cream cones and probably wondering which one of them had the bright idea of freezing their asses off like that!), I reread what I've written, delete some things, type some more... I have stories to tell, funny (I think) anecdotes I want to share, frustrations I want to air, etc, hoping to elicit emotion & provide food for thought for my readers. However, I never intended for those emotions or thoughts to be hurt or offense. Not to say I can't handle criticism (lie - but I'm working on that!) but what I mean is I never meant to hurt or offend anyone, and I have. I have apologized to these people but it strikes me that perhaps there are others who, for whatever reason, did not call me out and so for those of you I apologize too. If you know me well you know I have a rather crass sense of humor, a warped sense of reality & a vivid way of describing things. Some of this comes out in my writing. Sometimes I say things that make no sense or it's an inside joke or I mean it one way, and think my readers know what that way is, but they don't. How can they? Just like how can I know about everyone's situations, histories, sensitivities, etc? I would NEVER intentionally hurt or offend someone, that's not me. I'm also not a racist, I hate everyone equally ;) (that was a joke)
So all this has gotten me thinking about humor, criticism, opinions, judgements, etc. When is it ok to make fun of someone? Never? Comedians do it all the time - and I suppose they offend and make enemies along with gathering a following of devotees. I love Howard Stern but I know a lot of people don't and even though he makes me laugh he still causes my eyebrows to raise a lot as I mutter "wow, that's harsh!" I mean, he really speaks his mind, but that's his job. I'm not a shock-jock and nor do I want to be. Anything I've ever written that has offended anyone was purely accidental. I suppose I'm a bit naive and ignorant about the P.C. thing, not all of it but some. I want to raise my children to be intelligent, non-judgemental, polite people so maybe I need to look into a book on being P.C. - is there such a thing? I'm only half serious there. To be honest, I think everyone has the right to their own opinion, they have the right to judge and think what they may of anyone so long as they keep it to themselves. It might not be fair or right or any of that, but who is to say how we can feel? I don't agree with a lot of cultures' ways of treating women but that's their culture. Do I wish I could change it? Sure. Is that even possible? Not really. Is that a shitty attitude? Maybe.
Apparently it's ok to make fun of a certain group of people including lawyers & politicians - but why? They are people with feelings too. Don't they get upset when they are the brunt of a joke? Don't we care? Then there are drug addicts, homeless, murderers, etc., those people are all free reign right? But maybe not, we don't know what got them where they are. That old saying about not judging (or making fun of?) someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes is pretty solid advice. Then again sometimes I just want to say, Hey the world is a wreck, can't you take a joke? Why...So...Serious?
I've been advised by different people to either alter my writing or not change a thing. Well, I am who I am and if I can't write like me then I don't want to write at all. However, I recognize I need to think outside my little bubble sometimes and realize what I've said may be taken offense to, and therefore shouldn't say it. Other times I know not what I say. So here comes the disclaimer:
My blog is about me, my life, my experiences. Please do not take anything personally, I do not judge you, I am not even thinking about you and I don't mean that in a bad, selfish way. When I write I'm in my little world and I talk about the world according to me. If I offend thee, please forgive me. And please feel free to tell me if I do! I want you to enjoy reading my blog, but if you don't then please stop reading it. No offense taken.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Quiet on the set
and...Action!
These days my life seems to be resembling a stand-up comedy routine, which I suppose is better than a drama - oh wait, that's another blog entry.
Take One: Whip out the boob in the middle of my therapy appointment, which actually suddenly makes me more uncomfortable than if I were in a crowded restaurant since I've been trying to figure out if my therapist is a lesbian or not - which wouldn't change how much I worship her one iota but just makes me feel extra aware that my now bare flapjack is not just for feeding babies and my mind drifts to wondering who (lesbians? straight men? anyone?) finds the sight of a woman breastfeeding sexually attractive. Generally when I let out one of my ladies to feed in front of anyone other than say my mom, husband, sister or close girlfriend who is or has breastfed her own, I feel this sudden change in the air so slight it's like the whistle only dogs can hear. It's as if I can read on the invisible electronic scrolling banner on their foreheads them thinking: Ok, she's going to breastfeed 2 feet in front of me without covering up, it's cool, I'm not fazed, just keep eye contact, keep eye contact, keep eye contact. There's just something about someones gaze when you know they are trying so hard to keep eye contact. Why don't they just look? Get it over with, take a glance down, it won't bite you and I won't freak out. If I didn't expect, or care, for it to be looked at I would use the hooter hider I have, but I just can't be bothered it. I feel like I have to be some double jointed cirque de soleil acrobat to use those things. Maybe it's just me. I also feel like the baby can't be too comfortable with it either, the air getting stale in there etc. Interestingly though, I was way more free about where I fed Tyler (after I got over the first time of "oh my god, I'm whipping out my boob in public!") than I am with Teagan, as if having a girl has brought out some modesty in me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, therapy. So I'm burping the lil girl as I like to do with her sitting upright laying against my chest as I pat her back and I'm staring out the window blurry eyed from tears in the middle of a particularly emotional memory recount so I'm rather mechanically and absently patting Teagan. At first I just hear the burp, but it sounds wet and then I feel a warmth cascade down between my ladies as I'm snapped out of my story. Lovely, she's urped right down the front of me and I have no burp cloth (which of course is meant to be used BEFORE this happens) or more importantly no change of shirt for myself. Oh well, I'm going right home afterwards so I give a little chuckle, grab a bunch of kleenex from the box on the side table next to me and wipe myself off. After my session ends I head for the bathroom, the tear spigot still not turned off, needing to take a minute to bawl in the privacy of a stall before composing myself to face the elevator crowds and of course to make sure I wiped up all the urp. On my way I see a 20-30'ish attractive guy in the OBGYN waiting room with a tee shirt that reads "I love my girlfriend" and I want so badly to go up to him and tell him that's the best shirt ever but of course am in no state to do so. Can only imagine his reaction to some crying lady smelling of baby vomit commenting him on his shirt as he's already uncomfortable waiting for this girlfriend to finish up with her girl doctor business. As I'm heading to the elevators post bathroom bawl, composure & clean-up I notice the dude is gone since I was going to go compliment him then but it was probably for the best.
Lessons learned: carry burp cloth AND USE IT, find Tony a shirt that says "I love my wife".
Take Two: Back in therapy the following week, I whip out my handy and somewhat fashionable burp cloth (if that's possible, it's pink vs plain white) after having breastfed again (maybe I should try to time my feedings better so I'm not always doing so in therapy!) and am pleased to get a big, fat belch outta my little angel but no liquid cottage cheese down the front of me - or at all for that matter but hey, better safe than sorry! This time though, Teagan lets'r rip out the other end. Ooooh, good thing I ran back into the house to get the back-up diaper change supplies even though I was totally running late for my appointment. After my session ends I change Teagan in the bathroom and am surprised not to see any poop but the diap is heavy with pee so I give her a fresh one anyway. It just so happens I have my 6 week post-delivery follow up Gyn appointment immediately following therapy (they are in the same building) so soon I'm legs up in stirrups discussing birth control options with my doc as I hear the loudest butt squirt imaginable from such a tiny human come from the stroller and I think "oh thank gawd I brought 2 extra diapers with me!" Well, what I didn't bring with me was a change of clothes for Teagan for what turned out to be the biggest diap blow-out of her little life so far. Mustard yellow baby poo-goo halfway up her back, on her little jumper and on the swaddle blanket she was laying on - Fantastic! And here I'd been dropped off by Tony with the stroller so I could head downtown for a little Tiff shopping after my appts. Well the outfit was brown so the disaster wasn't visible and I did my best to clean her up so after assessing my qualifications as the worst mother ever by going ahead downtown to shop with Teagan wearing her poo, I boarded the muni bus 37 Geary bound for Union Square. Teagan was not impressed and made me pay for it by refusing to stop crying unless I held her, and even then not always, which made clothes shopping and trying on very difficult. I was determined to find some new things for myself though now that I've purged virtually my entire wardrobe and tried to ignore the concerned/irritated/disapproving sideways glances I was getting right and left as I weaved my way through Old Navy and ultimately purchased a few sweet tops. If only it had ended there. Oh no, now I had to get on the bart train to get home. What a long journey...I draw the line at breastfeeding on public transportation and by now Teagan was hungry (I actually had fed her when we first got to Union Square, using the ladies "lounge" at Saks but that was a little while ago) and since the wind was blowing like some baby hurricane on my walk home from the bart station I had to let my baby cry in the stroller as I duck walked as fast as I could those 7 blocks. What a completely frazzling day.
Lessons learned: Bring change of clothes for Teagan whenever I leave the house. Don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary and only for the shortest amount of time possible. Hahaha - but seriously, that was supposed to be therapeutic shopping time for me?! I just need to chill and wait for Teagan to get a little older, say 3-6 months old, when she's not so overstimulated by everything outside home and I'm more well rested and she's just plain 'ol easier to take out.
Take Three: So much for bringing a burp cloth and change of clothes for Teagan...back at my old nanny gig as a fill-in for my mom one day this week, Lil Girl does more than just urp on me, she yacks up all that she just sucked down. All over my shirt, my bra and my skirt. I've heard you should carry a back-up shirt for yourself but a whole outfit?! I know I must sound like a first time mom but Tyler just never spit up or threw up! I managed to keep any of the vomit from getting on Teagan since I'd already changed her outfit because she'd blown out her diap and I didn't bring 2 changes of clothes for her. I contemplated throwing my pukewear into the washer but didn't think it would look so cool if one of the parents came home and I was running around with the 3 little boys just wearing my bra and undies, and I wasn't about to go rummage through the mom's drawers for something to throw on in the meantime. So I just stank like puke the rest of the day!
We were supposed to go out for dinner that night for a good friend of Tony's birthday and we'd be cutting it close time wise by the time I drove home from San Jose. It was a warm day and that hour drive home made me feel sweaty and gross since I didn't want to turn on the a/c and I already needed to do something about the vomit smell emanating from me so I figured a quick shower would solve everything. Tony had run out to get a birthday gift so my plan was to put Teagan in the bouncy chair while I took a quick shower but that didn't take into account Tyler waking up from sleeping the whole ride home a total toddler wreckage. From the minute I stopped the car and he opened his eyes he started crying. Unfortunately this had become routine when I was nannying twice a week before Teagan arrived, he'd sleep all the way home and upon arrival wake and turn into Inconsolable Ian, crying & screaming & garbling "momma." I've tried many different tactics to calm him or just get through it - hugging him, ignoring him, threatening him with a time-out, you name it. Generally it has to play out OR sometimes when he gets some food in his tummy it stops but that's a challenge since he's too upset, bawling and has his fingers in his mouth. I usually end up feeding him myself and something I know he really likes, then once he's calmed down he can feed himself and the storm has passed. The best resolution was making sure he got a nap during the day and therefore didn't sleep on the way home and arrive as Hyde. But that wasn't the case this particular evening and I was trying to get ready to go out and Tony still wasn't home. I tried ignoring him as I got Teagan into the bouncy chair and sat her in the bathroom and then I offered him a granola bar which he took and actually quieted down briefly as he ate but as I stripped off my clothes he ratcheted up again so I sat him on the closed toilet lid and just headed into the shower. He sobbed the whole 3 minutes I was in there while next to him down on the floor Teagan stared into space like a zombie but was quiet. As soon as I stepped out of the shower she decided to chime in with her brother! I had too little time to stop and try anything I knew wouldn't work anyway short of cuddling Tyler up in my lap and sticking a boob in Teagan's mouth so I just stayed the course of getting ready. I picked up the bouncy chair with Teagan crying in it, told Tyler loudly over his crying that I was going upstairs to get dressed and he should follow me if he wanted and I headed up. He made it as far as the bottom of the staircase and just sat there wailing and crying "momma, momma" which was utterly heartbreaking and yet I knew he was ultimately ok. As I raced around getting dressed Teagan screamed and screamed. I heard Tony come home and try to console Tyler to no avail and then I heard what I almost never hear, Tony got frustrated and his tone changed and instead of "it's ok Babu, don't cry" it was "STOP CRYING TYLER!" I half smiled to myself that Tony was feeling the frustration I do more often lately and that it got to him too. So then it was me and the screaming little girl upstairs and Tony and the wailing little man downstairs and so I called out "Yay Parenthood!" to which I heard Tony chuckle. We somehow made it into the car without murdering our children or turning on each other and as soon as the car started the howling ceased completely. Aaaaah, we made it and we gave each other a look of exhausted triumph and squeezed each others hands.
Lessons learned: none. Well actually there's various little things I learned but I'll spare the explanation and just say sometimes you just can't help these times but the biggest key to getting through it is to stay calm and as unaffected as possible.
CUT!
These days my life seems to be resembling a stand-up comedy routine, which I suppose is better than a drama - oh wait, that's another blog entry.
Take One: Whip out the boob in the middle of my therapy appointment, which actually suddenly makes me more uncomfortable than if I were in a crowded restaurant since I've been trying to figure out if my therapist is a lesbian or not - which wouldn't change how much I worship her one iota but just makes me feel extra aware that my now bare flapjack is not just for feeding babies and my mind drifts to wondering who (lesbians? straight men? anyone?) finds the sight of a woman breastfeeding sexually attractive. Generally when I let out one of my ladies to feed in front of anyone other than say my mom, husband, sister or close girlfriend who is or has breastfed her own, I feel this sudden change in the air so slight it's like the whistle only dogs can hear. It's as if I can read on the invisible electronic scrolling banner on their foreheads them thinking: Ok, she's going to breastfeed 2 feet in front of me without covering up, it's cool, I'm not fazed, just keep eye contact, keep eye contact, keep eye contact. There's just something about someones gaze when you know they are trying so hard to keep eye contact. Why don't they just look? Get it over with, take a glance down, it won't bite you and I won't freak out. If I didn't expect, or care, for it to be looked at I would use the hooter hider I have, but I just can't be bothered it. I feel like I have to be some double jointed cirque de soleil acrobat to use those things. Maybe it's just me. I also feel like the baby can't be too comfortable with it either, the air getting stale in there etc. Interestingly though, I was way more free about where I fed Tyler (after I got over the first time of "oh my god, I'm whipping out my boob in public!") than I am with Teagan, as if having a girl has brought out some modesty in me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, therapy. So I'm burping the lil girl as I like to do with her sitting upright laying against my chest as I pat her back and I'm staring out the window blurry eyed from tears in the middle of a particularly emotional memory recount so I'm rather mechanically and absently patting Teagan. At first I just hear the burp, but it sounds wet and then I feel a warmth cascade down between my ladies as I'm snapped out of my story. Lovely, she's urped right down the front of me and I have no burp cloth (which of course is meant to be used BEFORE this happens) or more importantly no change of shirt for myself. Oh well, I'm going right home afterwards so I give a little chuckle, grab a bunch of kleenex from the box on the side table next to me and wipe myself off. After my session ends I head for the bathroom, the tear spigot still not turned off, needing to take a minute to bawl in the privacy of a stall before composing myself to face the elevator crowds and of course to make sure I wiped up all the urp. On my way I see a 20-30'ish attractive guy in the OBGYN waiting room with a tee shirt that reads "I love my girlfriend" and I want so badly to go up to him and tell him that's the best shirt ever but of course am in no state to do so. Can only imagine his reaction to some crying lady smelling of baby vomit commenting him on his shirt as he's already uncomfortable waiting for this girlfriend to finish up with her girl doctor business. As I'm heading to the elevators post bathroom bawl, composure & clean-up I notice the dude is gone since I was going to go compliment him then but it was probably for the best.
Lessons learned: carry burp cloth AND USE IT, find Tony a shirt that says "I love my wife".
Take Two: Back in therapy the following week, I whip out my handy and somewhat fashionable burp cloth (if that's possible, it's pink vs plain white) after having breastfed again (maybe I should try to time my feedings better so I'm not always doing so in therapy!) and am pleased to get a big, fat belch outta my little angel but no liquid cottage cheese down the front of me - or at all for that matter but hey, better safe than sorry! This time though, Teagan lets'r rip out the other end. Ooooh, good thing I ran back into the house to get the back-up diaper change supplies even though I was totally running late for my appointment. After my session ends I change Teagan in the bathroom and am surprised not to see any poop but the diap is heavy with pee so I give her a fresh one anyway. It just so happens I have my 6 week post-delivery follow up Gyn appointment immediately following therapy (they are in the same building) so soon I'm legs up in stirrups discussing birth control options with my doc as I hear the loudest butt squirt imaginable from such a tiny human come from the stroller and I think "oh thank gawd I brought 2 extra diapers with me!" Well, what I didn't bring with me was a change of clothes for Teagan for what turned out to be the biggest diap blow-out of her little life so far. Mustard yellow baby poo-goo halfway up her back, on her little jumper and on the swaddle blanket she was laying on - Fantastic! And here I'd been dropped off by Tony with the stroller so I could head downtown for a little Tiff shopping after my appts. Well the outfit was brown so the disaster wasn't visible and I did my best to clean her up so after assessing my qualifications as the worst mother ever by going ahead downtown to shop with Teagan wearing her poo, I boarded the muni bus 37 Geary bound for Union Square. Teagan was not impressed and made me pay for it by refusing to stop crying unless I held her, and even then not always, which made clothes shopping and trying on very difficult. I was determined to find some new things for myself though now that I've purged virtually my entire wardrobe and tried to ignore the concerned/irritated/disapproving sideways glances I was getting right and left as I weaved my way through Old Navy and ultimately purchased a few sweet tops. If only it had ended there. Oh no, now I had to get on the bart train to get home. What a long journey...I draw the line at breastfeeding on public transportation and by now Teagan was hungry (I actually had fed her when we first got to Union Square, using the ladies "lounge" at Saks but that was a little while ago) and since the wind was blowing like some baby hurricane on my walk home from the bart station I had to let my baby cry in the stroller as I duck walked as fast as I could those 7 blocks. What a completely frazzling day.
Lessons learned: Bring change of clothes for Teagan whenever I leave the house. Don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary and only for the shortest amount of time possible. Hahaha - but seriously, that was supposed to be therapeutic shopping time for me?! I just need to chill and wait for Teagan to get a little older, say 3-6 months old, when she's not so overstimulated by everything outside home and I'm more well rested and she's just plain 'ol easier to take out.
Take Three: So much for bringing a burp cloth and change of clothes for Teagan...back at my old nanny gig as a fill-in for my mom one day this week, Lil Girl does more than just urp on me, she yacks up all that she just sucked down. All over my shirt, my bra and my skirt. I've heard you should carry a back-up shirt for yourself but a whole outfit?! I know I must sound like a first time mom but Tyler just never spit up or threw up! I managed to keep any of the vomit from getting on Teagan since I'd already changed her outfit because she'd blown out her diap and I didn't bring 2 changes of clothes for her. I contemplated throwing my pukewear into the washer but didn't think it would look so cool if one of the parents came home and I was running around with the 3 little boys just wearing my bra and undies, and I wasn't about to go rummage through the mom's drawers for something to throw on in the meantime. So I just stank like puke the rest of the day!
We were supposed to go out for dinner that night for a good friend of Tony's birthday and we'd be cutting it close time wise by the time I drove home from San Jose. It was a warm day and that hour drive home made me feel sweaty and gross since I didn't want to turn on the a/c and I already needed to do something about the vomit smell emanating from me so I figured a quick shower would solve everything. Tony had run out to get a birthday gift so my plan was to put Teagan in the bouncy chair while I took a quick shower but that didn't take into account Tyler waking up from sleeping the whole ride home a total toddler wreckage. From the minute I stopped the car and he opened his eyes he started crying. Unfortunately this had become routine when I was nannying twice a week before Teagan arrived, he'd sleep all the way home and upon arrival wake and turn into Inconsolable Ian, crying & screaming & garbling "momma." I've tried many different tactics to calm him or just get through it - hugging him, ignoring him, threatening him with a time-out, you name it. Generally it has to play out OR sometimes when he gets some food in his tummy it stops but that's a challenge since he's too upset, bawling and has his fingers in his mouth. I usually end up feeding him myself and something I know he really likes, then once he's calmed down he can feed himself and the storm has passed. The best resolution was making sure he got a nap during the day and therefore didn't sleep on the way home and arrive as Hyde. But that wasn't the case this particular evening and I was trying to get ready to go out and Tony still wasn't home. I tried ignoring him as I got Teagan into the bouncy chair and sat her in the bathroom and then I offered him a granola bar which he took and actually quieted down briefly as he ate but as I stripped off my clothes he ratcheted up again so I sat him on the closed toilet lid and just headed into the shower. He sobbed the whole 3 minutes I was in there while next to him down on the floor Teagan stared into space like a zombie but was quiet. As soon as I stepped out of the shower she decided to chime in with her brother! I had too little time to stop and try anything I knew wouldn't work anyway short of cuddling Tyler up in my lap and sticking a boob in Teagan's mouth so I just stayed the course of getting ready. I picked up the bouncy chair with Teagan crying in it, told Tyler loudly over his crying that I was going upstairs to get dressed and he should follow me if he wanted and I headed up. He made it as far as the bottom of the staircase and just sat there wailing and crying "momma, momma" which was utterly heartbreaking and yet I knew he was ultimately ok. As I raced around getting dressed Teagan screamed and screamed. I heard Tony come home and try to console Tyler to no avail and then I heard what I almost never hear, Tony got frustrated and his tone changed and instead of "it's ok Babu, don't cry" it was "STOP CRYING TYLER!" I half smiled to myself that Tony was feeling the frustration I do more often lately and that it got to him too. So then it was me and the screaming little girl upstairs and Tony and the wailing little man downstairs and so I called out "Yay Parenthood!" to which I heard Tony chuckle. We somehow made it into the car without murdering our children or turning on each other and as soon as the car started the howling ceased completely. Aaaaah, we made it and we gave each other a look of exhausted triumph and squeezed each others hands.
Lessons learned: none. Well actually there's various little things I learned but I'll spare the explanation and just say sometimes you just can't help these times but the biggest key to getting through it is to stay calm and as unaffected as possible.
CUT!
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