Thursday, November 25, 2010

Thanks for the cation

After an unexpected and lovely Thanksgiving with my brother and his family, Eric and I cuddled up on the couch to watch the first episode of the second season of "Californication." For those of you who don't know the show, you may be raising a questioning eyebrow. However, with all of the sex, drugs, and mid-life crisis-porsche-driving-leading-male-esque, I find surprising depth to the main character. Like Don Draper, he can bag anything wearing a skirt, but in contrast, he's tragically and hopelessly still in love with his "ex." The first season of the show was spent in a "sea of meaningless...," to quote Hank Moody.

At any rate, the show had a fabulous Great Gatsby theme running through it tonight. Reminding me how much I love that story and how much I miss teaching literature.

Digression aside, I am struck by how much beauty and depth the world actually contains. How similar people of completely different circumstances can be. How there are universal and mind-blowingly moving themes we all share. How there is so much beauty in the grittiness.

Which makes me think how grateful I am on this Thanksgiving night for the dirty clothes pile that seems to refill itself as soon as I empty the hamper. For the gook we have to scrub on the pan until we give into it never coming off. For the garden rosebush that is always threatening to take over its neighboring tree. For the community paper I end up recycling every day while it's still in the plastic. For the way I can never count on my baby's schedule. I never know his bedtime or waking time. For my husband's kooky charm that I often mistake for so many bad names I can't say here - only because I am usually tired and worn out by the time he gets home.

And for effortless conversations. For old friends who always seem new. For butterflies in summer. For kind strangers who let you cut in line. For in-laws whom I actually want to visit. For the desire to create. For the endless capacity to love more.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Little Big

Outside of Flying Biscuit yesterday, as I was standing by our car waiting for my husband to bring us some napkins to wipe up some spilled coffee, I was watching these two little girls. One was about six, the other about eight. Both were dressed in fancy winter boots and trendy older-girlish dresses. They were staring into a retail shop window, commenting on the fancy dresses hanging in the window.

I was fascinated by the familiar discussion, one I could remember having in some fashion or other when I was a child. It went something like this:

"I want to have the blue dress."
"No, I want that one."
"But, I called it already."
"OK, I'll have 'that' one."
"Yeah, I want that one too."
"When I grow up, I am going to wear that dress."

I couldn't help, but think how odd it is that we spend much of childhood practicing and wishing for adulthood. As a new parent, I am equally intrigued with how quickly and willingly I can become a child again.

What's even more disturbing to me about the fact kids only want to be "grown up," is that nowadays small girls already dress like adolescents. Wearing tall black boots and midriff cardigans.

When will our children get to be just kids? Revel, bathe, blow dandelion seeds, skip down the sidewalk....for as long as you can, Ash. Until you too get to relive all of this in parenthood. :)

Friday, November 19, 2010

Uncomfortable, Thank You

Itching under the skin today. The holidays bring a quiet to "my" earth, especially when Eric and I stay home. This Thanksgiving, we aren't even having guests either. Imagine? It seems surreal considering we have a little five-moth old who will be having his first Turkey day sans the turkey.

For some reason, the stillness I am anticipating - that I usually crave and long for - feels a bit foreign and uncomfortable, like a new pair of wool slacks. I remember when I used to go to one of my parent's homes for the holiday. Meeting Eric, along with other things, changed that tradition. Even earlier in my life, going to grandma's was always in store for the winter.

There's something about not having holidays with my family that makes me feel rather old and out of sorts. Granted, I love creating new traditions, but where does the time go? It's like I lived 100 years and am now in the second century of my life.

Funny. I just smiled as I imagined this new era of unknown feasts, celebrations, birthdays, friendships, gardens, and homes. I have more right now than anyone anywhere could possibly hope for. I never would have imagined my life would be this huge and expansive. That my husband would be so amazingly sensitive and such a good listener and mentor. That I'd even have a child, not to mention he'd be so beautiful and so full of life. That I'd eventually realize that home is actually where the heart is. That wherever those two men in my life are is where I will always feel the safest and the most loved.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Anger Management 101

My weeks often have themes, perhaps focusing around a quote, such as "No one can make you angry but you" - this week's theme. I am reading a book about changing the way you think in order to change your emotional experiences. And in discussing the anger idea with Eric, he said he had just said this to one of his students. Then, the theme appears on a TV sitcom about how a wife "has to be angry" to get her husband to do anything. Sound familiar?

So, this idea is heavy on my mind. I get angry every day about something. And it's usually about how uncivil or unappreciative the world is. A driver cuts me off in traffic, a lady bumps into me in the grocery store without apology, a new mother does not acknowledge my beaming face intentionally set on her and her child, etc, etc.

Anger or disappointment is what I feel each time, at least in some degree or another. How unjust everyone is, I think. It doesn't take anything to be nice, does it? Can't we just make the world go round with simple happiness, people?

Needless to say, my quest for dealing with emotions and figuring out appropriate levels of showing and containing emotions continues. Am I not supposed to be angry? Does this violate my spiritual growth or contract with God? If I feel anger and don't express it, where does it go? I've tried so many times to let it sit and linger until it seems to fade into some internal abyss. At least until my husband leaves his dishes for me to do or his clothes in a heap on our bedroom floor.

"Serenity now!!"

Monday, November 15, 2010

Underneath

In the five months since Asher's birth, I have lived a lifetime of tiny, miraculous moments. Elated, beaming, teary, frustrated, somber, and raging moments. Overall, I feel miles away from that wonderful but horrifying day I gave birth. My life turned upside down that night, and I went through some shockingly intense postpartum "stuff" for a few weeks.

Nevertheless, I feel so beyond that at this point. I am a mommy not to be messed with on most days, and I mean this in the best way possible. Life has taken on a more no-nonsense, grounded quality. There's an assurance about the world and the reason I am here.

Yet, certain days like today, I brush against "giving birth" moments in my head, and a quick and quiet desperation comes over me. A desperation that pain can actually be that excruciating. To live through something like that seems impossible. A desperation that my body can actually feel that wrecked. That I can be that weak for weeks. That the bottom can be pulled out of your emotions, and you can go plummeting to the hardwood floor - without a helmet and knee pads.

I guess I am still healing from it all. I am recovering emotionally and physically in ways I would have never anticipated. My life now is so full of little Asher moments of joy and excitement. But, underneath all the happy smiling is a woman recovering from her own destruction and rebirth.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Seriously Now

How can it be that I feel the most confident version of myself I can remember being in such a long time, if ever, and yet I've never carried this much weight? The paradox is strange to me. I feel confident, yet un-confident.

In truth, when I see myself in the mirror, I often see a middle-aged woman's body. This shocking image stares back at me in search of her skinnier self. I was always the girl - and woman - who never had to worry about her weight. Who got upset when she had to eventually wear size 8 jeans. Who could eat that large piece of gooey, chocolate cake and a plate of fries and not worry for a skinny minute.

And now, I wouldn't try to pull on those size 8 jeans unless I was given a large sum of money. The humiliation wouldn't be worth it, otherwise.

At any rate, I am so not used to having this body. The desire to exercise does strike more and more, but do I have to actually work hard at it? I mean, really? Is this my new reality?

Postpartum bellyhood, here we are. This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I think I just might let this belly stick around for a bit. Get to know it. Get to understand all of those women whom I've been hearing bitch about their weight for my whole life.

Even if - and I mean if - I had to keep this belly for the rest of my life, it would be so worth it. For Ash, and for the new mommy-confidence, ten to twenty pounds is welcome on this body.

A guy walks into a bar

So, it's me and this blog. And by now, I am starting to think who in the heck is reading this anyway? I suppose it doesn't even matter. "Do it for the fat lady," as Zooey says to Franny (Salinger).

Let's face it. Writing in a diary feels so obsolete at this point in life. I often don't want to write because my hand starts to cramp up after a few minutes. I am so not used to writing. Wow. That's such a strange fact to contemplate.

It's almost like writing to my own consciousness. Hello, Elizabeth, these are your thoughts for the day. Doesn't it feel good to get them out? Why, thank you for asking. Yes, it does. ;)

Monday, November 8, 2010

Manifestation Bored

Recently, I've been cutting out pictures from catalogs to add to my manifestation board. One thing in particular that I am hoping to manifest is creativity. Or perhaps just time to be creative. At the moment, writing in this blog feels like one of the only creative "me" things I am doing.

I say "me" things because being a mommy already involves lots of creativity and spontaneity. It's a lot like waking up each day and not knowing what your boss is going to throw at you or what time he will expect you to be at work. Can you have a lunch break? Will you be required to focus for long periods of time on one thing? These are all unknown variables from day to day when you have a little one.

Therefore, going with the flow and thinking up new games or songs are requirements of the trade.

But, there's this somewhat empty pocket with a few ideas and cut-outs stuffed inside that I long to fill with something concrete. How can I find the time to make a mosaic coffee table I've wanted to make for years now? It's been a renewed interest, and so far, collecting doo-dads is the farthest I've gotten.

Here's an idea. Why not spend a week eating frozen dinners or take-out? A week without scrubbing the tub or doing ten thousand loads of laundry? A week where the dishes can pile up in the sink each day?

Spend less time wanting and feeling increased anxiety and resentment, and just start DOing. Get on with it, already, Elizabeth!

Friday, November 5, 2010

Good-bye Dulldrums

Listening to children's music on Pandora while moving my head from left to right, noticing the giddy smile on my face, I realized I never want to leave this state of mind. Sort of. I mean, I can see myself with a goofy grin, playing a guitar and dancing around the maypole with little kids for a loooonng time. Perhaps, my next stage of life- once Ash goes to school - will be as an elementary school teacher.

Having fun with life seems so unheard of for adults, doesn't it? We're not "supposed" to have careers where our jobs are more play than "work." I have come back to a part of myself that I lost somewhere in my twenties. Leaving Seattle was kind of like leaving behind any "childhood" dreams of how life could be.

Why does "maturity" have to mean turning into something serious and callous? My brief stint in corporate America already took some shine off my shoes and spring out of my step. That's why I had to get out. Becoming a teacher was my refuge. My way of saving myself from a life in the Dulldrums.

Yet, I teach college online right now. There's not much room for fun and games in that. Perhaps, for our spirits to thrive, to become as large as we can be, more laughter and play are necessary.