I'm not completely dissatisfied and that's good. If you don't think so, try being wholly
dissatisfied. It has nothing to recommend it.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Seeking Your Equilibrium
It's like being in the primate house. These kids, they're
one step above flinging their poo sometimes.
They squawk at each other, in a constant squabble over anything as a way
to prove their dominance in the family community.
Sometimes you need a break.
The caretaker, you get worn out by the chaos. I noticed that even Frannie (the cockatiel)
reacts by screeching at them. There's a
ball of energy that pulsates and spins wherever too many children gather,
especially if it is in too small an area. As an adult, you may nit notice this
until it's too late. You find yourself
depleted and surrounded by insane monkey-kids.
Special Needs Mothering
Me: “Talking to Isaac is like talking to God; You don't get
any response and you just assume He/he heard you.”
The Middle
My husband was surprised to find out that I wasn't aware
that all female birds will lay eggs, no matter if they are fertilized or
not. Not just chickens do this. All
birds do this.
I don't know why I didn't know. It was one of those assumptions that you form
as a youngster and it continues on throughout life unchallenged. It never gets a quality-control check later
on when you can reason better, although it so needs one.
“I grew up in suburbia!” I told him, “I am neither
country-strong nor city-smart. I know
how to use a crosswalk safely. I know
how to avoid strangers in vans. I know
how to get to the closest chain store for whatever I need. I've come to trust in the security of
that. I'm suburban-aware.”
So, yes, I might not always grasp the natural rhythms of
birds or the intricate connections urban bus systems make. But I can point you to the nearest Starbucks
or Golden Arches. And for me this is the
Golden Mean, the happy-medium.
I'd argue we are meant for moderation. Our bodies perish if they become too cold or
too hot. We seek a happy-medium, a range
in the middle. Balance.
My Hope Chest
My Hope Chest
Just like my life....
Just like me.
Spills, marks from kids,
A cat scratching post at times,
Sometimes too many things get piled on it
However, within, it stores memories of love and family,
Be it well-loved,
Love is an action...
I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because I love
him. And love is an action.
Solitude Under the Moon
There is a rhythm to our days and nights. We might not notice this current, but it's
there. My favorite time is late at
night. I know I should be sleeping. But I lay in bed tonight, I can't sleep and
instead of forcing myself, I go with the flow.
I enjoy the clean, fresh sheet on my bed and the cool, soft breeze
coming through the open window, only slightly ajar. And my cleansed and lotioned body, shampooed
hair, encasing my soul which marvels at all, under the light of the full moon.
Quiet and solitude, encased in darkness and coolness. As a mother, there have been times I have
craved you during the chaotic day.
Desperately. I will not chastise
myself for not sleeping right now. I
will not zip past these magic moments of rare peace and into sleep. I will
savor this.
My father would not have me sleep with my window open. If he knew.
And if he had any control in the situation. You know, if I wasn't 35-years-old.
But I so dearly love the cool breeze over my face as I drift
off to eventual sleep and then throughout the night.
You see, to me, it's about savoring the things you love.
Not necessarily the material things you love-actually, frequently it's
not the material things, but rather the simple pleasures. It's about the quality of life not
necessarily quantity of life. So if some
calmity befalls me because I left my window open while I slept, know I did it
because I so dearly loved the pleasure of it all the other times.
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