Zaharah Michele was born on June 15th at 9:28am weighing 7 lbs 13 oz and 20 inches tall. I love being a mom 4 times over. Every new spirit and fragile body they inhabit is such miracles to me. I am so lucky to be entrusted with an incredible responsibility.
I have such a desire to be a good mom, I’m sure I would be great if someone would just get me the handbook. I seem to need a step by step outline of what to do in each situation.
With my older two, I tend to act as though I think I can make them behave if I just parent correctly. And yet I do understand (in theory, it seems) that my responsibly is to teach not pull the puppet strings. My kids just listen better when I bark out orders to them rather than kindly let them know what I expect. So sometimes I’m so horrified with what comes out of my mouth. “Constantly” would be a better description because it happens nearly daily and sometimes several times in those days. Have I no self control? Is all this confusion just because I’m so sleep deprived, hormonal and miss the cool serenity of Oregon so much?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thursday, June 04, 2009
A Day for Me
When my mother-in-law offered to watch my boys for the day, I immediately stole away to the local used book store. Every corner of every isle was stacked with books waiting to be sorted onto the overcrowded shelves. I didn’t immediately indulge in rich text but tried to be productive searching the parenting sections. But there was an old book out of place called Singing in the Rain with a great incription. Skipping around in various sections of the book, I sat my 9 month pregnant belly down on the ground and cared not for the lack of nerves being felt in my legs as I read from its dusty and yellowed pages.
The author’s words were detailed and typically darling of the era. Her descriptions splendid and her personal commentary aligned with mine. When would I have time to read her words amid my preparations for a new daughter, being in the middle of moving, and having so many parenting books needing to be read? I didn’t know but I had to have it.
It was my art and reading day. I endulged. A galery, a new canvas, a gallon of Gesso, the Hardware store for my next art project supplies, the library and a phone call to Goompa. We're going to lunch together on Saturday.
The author’s words were detailed and typically darling of the era. Her descriptions splendid and her personal commentary aligned with mine. When would I have time to read her words amid my preparations for a new daughter, being in the middle of moving, and having so many parenting books needing to be read? I didn’t know but I had to have it.
It was my art and reading day. I endulged. A galery, a new canvas, a gallon of Gesso, the Hardware store for my next art project supplies, the library and a phone call to Goompa. We're going to lunch together on Saturday.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Gift of Charity
I've been thinking about how I would like to make every room brighter when I enter. I would like to be uplifting to those with which I interact.
I have a great example of this here: Curtis' mom. She emanates love to all those with whom she interacts. She's always thinking of others and you can tell she loves them.
She and I are really different in so many ways but we communicate and interact so well around one another and I think it's because of her love. We flow. It's not because we click in passionate pursuits, understanding of the world or communication style. We actually differ quite a lot in these areas. But none of that seems to matter. I take the time to clean the kitchen well after our every use because I know that’s important to her and she takes the time to listen to me (even though she’d probably rather be going a mile a minute) because that’s important to me. She was even going to go to a concert with me the other day just for my sake (luckily I found someone who actually wanted to go).
A few days ago we went shopping together in Costco and she was teasing back and forth with some young father there with his 2 little boys, ending up giving him a sideways hug. I could tell his load of chasing his little ones was lightened by her assurances. When I asked if she already knew him, I was surprised to find out that she had never met him. Astounding.
Without taking much time at all on each person, she is so charitable that they are uplifted and feel cared about anyway. What a gift!
And I thought I could only deeply connect with others who loved to just spend time focused on conversing as I do. And I thought I needed to learn some communication formula, one focused on empathy, in order to create this feeling of love in others. But that sounds so manipulative now compared to the pure love of Christ that Shelly transfers to all she meets despite how she delivers it. What’s so interesting to me about that is that she uses sarcasm and teasing a lot: something I was brought up to consider as insulting. So it has to be that her heart is just so genuine, filled with love that it doesn’t matter the words or efforts she uses.
I have a great example of this here: Curtis' mom. She emanates love to all those with whom she interacts. She's always thinking of others and you can tell she loves them.
She and I are really different in so many ways but we communicate and interact so well around one another and I think it's because of her love. We flow. It's not because we click in passionate pursuits, understanding of the world or communication style. We actually differ quite a lot in these areas. But none of that seems to matter. I take the time to clean the kitchen well after our every use because I know that’s important to her and she takes the time to listen to me (even though she’d probably rather be going a mile a minute) because that’s important to me. She was even going to go to a concert with me the other day just for my sake (luckily I found someone who actually wanted to go).
A few days ago we went shopping together in Costco and she was teasing back and forth with some young father there with his 2 little boys, ending up giving him a sideways hug. I could tell his load of chasing his little ones was lightened by her assurances. When I asked if she already knew him, I was surprised to find out that she had never met him. Astounding.
Without taking much time at all on each person, she is so charitable that they are uplifted and feel cared about anyway. What a gift!
And I thought I could only deeply connect with others who loved to just spend time focused on conversing as I do. And I thought I needed to learn some communication formula, one focused on empathy, in order to create this feeling of love in others. But that sounds so manipulative now compared to the pure love of Christ that Shelly transfers to all she meets despite how she delivers it. What’s so interesting to me about that is that she uses sarcasm and teasing a lot: something I was brought up to consider as insulting. So it has to be that her heart is just so genuine, filled with love that it doesn’t matter the words or efforts she uses.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Worries Near Delivery
I can’t seem to figure out how to organize my children’s clothes anymore. It was so easy when I only had boys. I simply had a big plastic bin for every size but how do I do it now with a girl on the way? Two bins for each size, one for each gender? But what about all the clothes that could be either? Plus, that’s a lot more bins to buy and use up space. I can’t figure out why I can’t wrap my mind around how to organize all of this. I need to get things ready for the baby but am not sure where or how to start. I can feel myself being pulled into perfectionist mode too. I want everything clean for the baby. Should I fight it?
I’m worrying about everything. Should I ask all my in-laws not to bring over their sick kids for the first couple of weeks after the baby is born? How can I do that when this isn’t even my house? But I’ve been stressing about it for awhile.
Curtis won’t be here for the baby’s birth if I have her before the evening of June 6th. I’ve been having some hard contractions. Some that take my breath away and a few I had to do some Lamaze breathing/relaxing through. I even had one in my back once which I’ve never experienced before.
Yesterday my back pinched a lot. I guess it’s the extra weight. I can’t even believe how out of shape I am. I haven’t gained much more than 30 pounds but I know all my muscle mass is gone. It’s a chore to climb stairs now since I’ve been so incredibly careful throughout this pregnancy. When I walk somewhere I walk real slow and have contractions anyway.
My mother-in-law will be gone Saturday until next Wednesday to help Curtis’ sister move into her new house in California. So I may have this baby all alone. {frowning face} I think I’ll call Ilesha (Curtis’ other sister) to be there. She’ll probably try to calm the baby the instant she’s born like she did when Myles was born. {smily face} She’s a fun person to be around so the birth will be fun. I kinda was hoping for a more mystical-type experience. Massages and sweet music with my best friends including my doula. But they’re all back in Oregon.
And here I have a midwife whose philosophy of the childbirth experience is that all that matters is that the baby is healthy. Oh great. Although that is most important, I didn’t have to choose her for just that. Of course any doctor or CNM should be able to deliver that. She’s not passionate about what she does either. But what can I do? I’m going to have a baby any day now so I probably shouldn’t change. And there aren’t many midwives in the area my insurance covers anyway. I was so in the dark when choosing her in the first place since the nurses in the hospital didn’t know who to recommend, no one around here that I know had any ideas and the receptionist at my midwife’s office didn’t even know if she were more people-oriented or task-oriented.
Why don’t doctors have a paragraph about their philosophies on medicine on their website? About what to expect from them. About what they try to provide. If they are into preventative medicine. If they try to get to know their patents individually. If they provide education to their patients in pertinent areas (ie: my Pediatrician in Oregon gave me parenting tips for the specific age of my children at every well-child visit like older children shouldn’t have more than 5 hrs per week of movies, TV and video games combined). We should have the right to know what we’re getting into before committing to a doctor without having to pay a co-pay and go all the way out for a visit.
Maybe some people don’t care much about who they see medically, but I care what parenting philosophy my pediatrician subscribes to. And I want a midwife who is committed to providing an incredible, loving experience when delivering my babies, not someone who describes her responsibility as “catching the baby” as my midwife did to me last week.
I’m worrying about everything. Should I ask all my in-laws not to bring over their sick kids for the first couple of weeks after the baby is born? How can I do that when this isn’t even my house? But I’ve been stressing about it for awhile.
Curtis won’t be here for the baby’s birth if I have her before the evening of June 6th. I’ve been having some hard contractions. Some that take my breath away and a few I had to do some Lamaze breathing/relaxing through. I even had one in my back once which I’ve never experienced before.
Yesterday my back pinched a lot. I guess it’s the extra weight. I can’t even believe how out of shape I am. I haven’t gained much more than 30 pounds but I know all my muscle mass is gone. It’s a chore to climb stairs now since I’ve been so incredibly careful throughout this pregnancy. When I walk somewhere I walk real slow and have contractions anyway.
My mother-in-law will be gone Saturday until next Wednesday to help Curtis’ sister move into her new house in California. So I may have this baby all alone. {frowning face} I think I’ll call Ilesha (Curtis’ other sister) to be there. She’ll probably try to calm the baby the instant she’s born like she did when Myles was born. {smily face} She’s a fun person to be around so the birth will be fun. I kinda was hoping for a more mystical-type experience. Massages and sweet music with my best friends including my doula. But they’re all back in Oregon.
And here I have a midwife whose philosophy of the childbirth experience is that all that matters is that the baby is healthy. Oh great. Although that is most important, I didn’t have to choose her for just that. Of course any doctor or CNM should be able to deliver that. She’s not passionate about what she does either. But what can I do? I’m going to have a baby any day now so I probably shouldn’t change. And there aren’t many midwives in the area my insurance covers anyway. I was so in the dark when choosing her in the first place since the nurses in the hospital didn’t know who to recommend, no one around here that I know had any ideas and the receptionist at my midwife’s office didn’t even know if she were more people-oriented or task-oriented.
Why don’t doctors have a paragraph about their philosophies on medicine on their website? About what to expect from them. About what they try to provide. If they are into preventative medicine. If they try to get to know their patents individually. If they provide education to their patients in pertinent areas (ie: my Pediatrician in Oregon gave me parenting tips for the specific age of my children at every well-child visit like older children shouldn’t have more than 5 hrs per week of movies, TV and video games combined). We should have the right to know what we’re getting into before committing to a doctor without having to pay a co-pay and go all the way out for a visit.
Maybe some people don’t care much about who they see medically, but I care what parenting philosophy my pediatrician subscribes to. And I want a midwife who is committed to providing an incredible, loving experience when delivering my babies, not someone who describes her responsibility as “catching the baby” as my midwife did to me last week.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
If I Died in Childbirth
I keep holding this baby in—so it feels. I had so many contractions last night that I wasn’t sure she would wait until morning. So I laid on the couch and watched several episodes of my new favorite TV show: The Gilmore Girls. They are so witty and take things in stride. I also like how they aren’t greedy and put their relationships first. It’s about a mother-daughter relationship that beats all. Perhaps I’m pining after that with this baby that wants to arrive.
Curtis will be here 2 weeks from tonight. I hope she can wait that long. He’s busy working on the house, fixing the items the buyer wants done before he comes out here. He needs to hire out for much of it anyway, but I guess he needs to be there to make sure it’s done.
What if I die during childbirth? (what if the reason why God told us to move here was because I was going to die and my family would need the extended family). I know it’s not likely especially since I’m having her in a hospital, but it still happens. Am I ready to die? I can’t believe how many times I wish it would come but that was when I was depressed. Now…now I questioned whether I’ve learned enough.
I have so many weaknesses that I haven’t even begun to overthrow in combat though I’ve played tug-a-war with them my entire life. Of course I wouldn’t want to leave my children before they’ve grown but even if that weren’t a factor, I still have so much more to realize.
Curtis will be here 2 weeks from tonight. I hope she can wait that long. He’s busy working on the house, fixing the items the buyer wants done before he comes out here. He needs to hire out for much of it anyway, but I guess he needs to be there to make sure it’s done.
What if I die during childbirth? (what if the reason why God told us to move here was because I was going to die and my family would need the extended family). I know it’s not likely especially since I’m having her in a hospital, but it still happens. Am I ready to die? I can’t believe how many times I wish it would come but that was when I was depressed. Now…now I questioned whether I’ve learned enough.
I have so many weaknesses that I haven’t even begun to overthrow in combat though I’ve played tug-a-war with them my entire life. Of course I wouldn’t want to leave my children before they’ve grown but even if that weren’t a factor, I still have so much more to realize.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Openness and Boundaries
In relationships with others, I’m trying to decide when to be open and when to set boundaries. I like to be open. I like being around others that are open. They cry when they are sad, laugh when they are happy, hug you freely, and tell you when they are mad. You don’t have to guess what they are thinking and you don’t have to worry about easily offending them.
I try to be open with others but perhaps it’s better to have boundaries with those that are emotionally unhealthy or that hurt me. Boundaries are a good thing too, right? You can’t let everyone walk all over you.
I’ve decided that I don’t have to be friends with those that bring me down. Be a friend to everyone except to individuals that have proven unhealthy to be around. I don’t need to ever be around those people again. Unless they’re family. Then I must continue to work at the relationship, but set up boundaries in heights and places in accordance to the unique problems with that individual or our relationship.
I don’t want to set up boundaries where/when I should be freely open. I don’t need to be scared of everyone I meet just because someone else hurt me before. I should give every new person a chance, excite in the amazing person they are until/if they prove me wrong.
I want to be completely open with my husband. I don’t want anything to stand between us. But he uses religion as a sword. I feel like he’s trying some head game to test me to see if I’ll still love him even if he slanders what I hold most dear. Perhaps he’s jealous that I take the first commandment literally and put God at the top of my list.
Why am I not taking his diversion from truth very well right now? I got to the point of not letting it bother me before I left Oregon. Is it because I haven’t had to be around it for the last month while we’ve been apart and so when he calls and brings it up it hurts more? Is it because I had this crazy notion that perhaps he would do some soul searching during our time away and find God there? Is it because Satan tempting me more to be frustrated with the situation in order to perpetuate it (give Curtis reason/fuel to act this way) on the eve of positive effects in Curtis’ life? Or simply, am I an emotional wreck: 8 months pregnant, hormonal, feeling all alone in this adventure that seems to strenuous to be called such?
So-Curtis and I were just talking on the phone. It was good conversation. A little forced (not especially flowing) but at least we were talking a lot. I was opening up and telling him that I didn’t like joking around with people who like to use sex as their subject of laughter. I said it was a sacred thing and I’m not comfortable with it. He didn’t seem to understand so I elaborated and in so doing said that it offends the spirit. Among other open comments he shared in return was one that especially stabbed me to the core. He said “Everything offends the spirit. So, you’re just in a loose-loose situation.”
I wanted to hang up so badly so I wouldn’t reliate but knew that was rude and childish so I said I had to go. He said “’cause you’re mad?” and I said I needed to hang the clothes on the line to dry and put a new load in the wash (which was true but I was putting it off so we could talk since I can’t do more than one thing at a time especially since I get a neck ache from putting my head to the side since I don’t have a hands free set for my cell). But he pressed more. And a flood of tears spilled forth as I tried to explain how hard it is for me to hear him say such extremes against God. So that was the end of the conversation.
Now I guess he feels more justified in turning away from God since he’ll surely blame him for this rift in our relationship. Or maybe since he since he seems to be holding minor offenses of others close at hand lately he’ll simply think as he’s told me many times before “well, if it weren’t religion that Heather is bugged by, she’d find something else to hold between us.” {Because when we were first married I found it difficult to relate to him on many levels that are seriously important to me. The many fine fields of art. But I have found resolution in the years since then but he won’t forgive and forget. I’m not trying to be angry at him. I don’t understand why he’s so angry at everyone lately and for simple offenses years ago that he won’t let go of.}
So now what? Boundary between open communication about religious feelings between my husband and I? Build a wall?
He was probably just trying to express his feelings openly to me. And I cut him off and ended the conversation! I want him to be open with me about how he feels and yet I can’t seem to handle it in that area right now. As he was saying that today, it didn’t seem possible that I could be empathetic to his feelings about that right now in my life. It hurts too bad. I keep wanting him to be there for me as I’m vulnerably pregnant and in a trying situation, but I need to be strong for him. I feel close to others when I can openly express my feelings and they listen and understand, so how can I do this if I am building walls/boundaries? I’m somebody that uncloaks elephants in the room, not cements them in place as a permanent fixture.
I try to be open with others but perhaps it’s better to have boundaries with those that are emotionally unhealthy or that hurt me. Boundaries are a good thing too, right? You can’t let everyone walk all over you.
I’ve decided that I don’t have to be friends with those that bring me down. Be a friend to everyone except to individuals that have proven unhealthy to be around. I don’t need to ever be around those people again. Unless they’re family. Then I must continue to work at the relationship, but set up boundaries in heights and places in accordance to the unique problems with that individual or our relationship.
I don’t want to set up boundaries where/when I should be freely open. I don’t need to be scared of everyone I meet just because someone else hurt me before. I should give every new person a chance, excite in the amazing person they are until/if they prove me wrong.
I want to be completely open with my husband. I don’t want anything to stand between us. But he uses religion as a sword. I feel like he’s trying some head game to test me to see if I’ll still love him even if he slanders what I hold most dear. Perhaps he’s jealous that I take the first commandment literally and put God at the top of my list.
Why am I not taking his diversion from truth very well right now? I got to the point of not letting it bother me before I left Oregon. Is it because I haven’t had to be around it for the last month while we’ve been apart and so when he calls and brings it up it hurts more? Is it because I had this crazy notion that perhaps he would do some soul searching during our time away and find God there? Is it because Satan tempting me more to be frustrated with the situation in order to perpetuate it (give Curtis reason/fuel to act this way) on the eve of positive effects in Curtis’ life? Or simply, am I an emotional wreck: 8 months pregnant, hormonal, feeling all alone in this adventure that seems to strenuous to be called such?
So-Curtis and I were just talking on the phone. It was good conversation. A little forced (not especially flowing) but at least we were talking a lot. I was opening up and telling him that I didn’t like joking around with people who like to use sex as their subject of laughter. I said it was a sacred thing and I’m not comfortable with it. He didn’t seem to understand so I elaborated and in so doing said that it offends the spirit. Among other open comments he shared in return was one that especially stabbed me to the core. He said “Everything offends the spirit. So, you’re just in a loose-loose situation.”
I wanted to hang up so badly so I wouldn’t reliate but knew that was rude and childish so I said I had to go. He said “’cause you’re mad?” and I said I needed to hang the clothes on the line to dry and put a new load in the wash (which was true but I was putting it off so we could talk since I can’t do more than one thing at a time especially since I get a neck ache from putting my head to the side since I don’t have a hands free set for my cell). But he pressed more. And a flood of tears spilled forth as I tried to explain how hard it is for me to hear him say such extremes against God. So that was the end of the conversation.
Now I guess he feels more justified in turning away from God since he’ll surely blame him for this rift in our relationship. Or maybe since he since he seems to be holding minor offenses of others close at hand lately he’ll simply think as he’s told me many times before “well, if it weren’t religion that Heather is bugged by, she’d find something else to hold between us.” {Because when we were first married I found it difficult to relate to him on many levels that are seriously important to me. The many fine fields of art. But I have found resolution in the years since then but he won’t forgive and forget. I’m not trying to be angry at him. I don’t understand why he’s so angry at everyone lately and for simple offenses years ago that he won’t let go of.}
So now what? Boundary between open communication about religious feelings between my husband and I? Build a wall?
He was probably just trying to express his feelings openly to me. And I cut him off and ended the conversation! I want him to be open with me about how he feels and yet I can’t seem to handle it in that area right now. As he was saying that today, it didn’t seem possible that I could be empathetic to his feelings about that right now in my life. It hurts too bad. I keep wanting him to be there for me as I’m vulnerably pregnant and in a trying situation, but I need to be strong for him. I feel close to others when I can openly express my feelings and they listen and understand, so how can I do this if I am building walls/boundaries? I’m somebody that uncloaks elephants in the room, not cements them in place as a permanent fixture.
To love me
Curtis’ family threw me a surprise baby shower yesterday. Many of Curtis’ Aunts, cousins, and their girls came. On my side, my 2 sisters came. I was so surprised and so excited that they cared so much about me that they would want to do that for me. I had no idea. I didn’t think anyone would consider the 4th baby in a Mormon society to be worthy of celebration.
I love the positive attention a party in my honor brings. That may seem self-absorbed but I’ve been analyzing different personalities lately and find it fascinating how some people love it and others loathe it. I think I’m healthy enough about it since I don’t try to seek after it but I enjoy it when it comes.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the different and sometimes opposite ways people feel loved since I went to a lecture last week at a Relief Society enrichment on 5 love languages. Even though the attention-starved lecturer said that we all like all 5, I seriously wonder if I don’t like “gifts” at all (that being one of the 5 languages). I love when people give of their time to be with me but that falls under the love language “quality time.” And I love it when other give of their efforts but that falls under “acts of service.” So what qualifies for “gifts” is probably just things ---which are actually usually annoying for me to get.
At the shower for me and my baby (due in 3 weeks), I loved being celebrated. I felt loved. Then I opened all these enormous amount of gifts! It must have cost everyone a ton which just makes me feel sad—totally guilty. And I absolutely hate waste and I don’t need it. Everyone gave me clothes and baby powder. {What in the world do people use baby powder for in the dessert? Everything is already dry.} I don’t need baby girl clothes because everyone has given me sacks and sacks of hand-me-downs. Since I didn’t get to pick out neither the new nor the used, they’re all just the same to me and hardly ever what I would choose. I don’t mean to be ungrateful because I do appreciate it a lot. I’m just trying to understand myself. There are things I do need for this baby like hair bows, headbands with large flowers, a double stroller, diapers, and wipes. But those aren’t the things people like to go shopping for.
In this consumer-minded culture we live in, full of waste and social propriety, people shop, they buy, they give needless gifts, they discard, they waste. I’m trying to be socially apt: trying to take the gift, be gracious for it knowing the intent was to be giving and loving. But now what do I do with the mound of clothes?
I really appreciated the party my friends threw me for my 3rd son: Sterling. There was a group gift so I got what I really needed. I also got about $100 since so many people gave to it and I didn’t need much. I also got so many diapers that the first diaper I bought him wasn’t until he was 6 months old!!! They gave me baby soap, lotion, wipes, thick onsies, etc. Useful gifts. I also received some baby outfits but not in too much excess and it was nice to have a few clothes without major use.
I cherished the shower yesterday. It showed me “see, someone cares” especially after no party for my 30th birthday, no celebration for my 10 year anniversary and little recognition for Mother’s Day—all within the last couple of weeks. Curtis didn’t even send me a gift for any of them. Why would I care since I don’t like gifts? It’s just an easy way to calculate/demonstrate how little he cares. Socially he’s expected to send a gift. Sure I’d prefer something better than that like a night out or a party, but to only get one late card is pretty sad.
Satan has been working hard to plant doubts in my head of our marriage. Not that it’s falling apart but that I’m becoming apathetic towards it. There are no problems but there isn’t much connection either. After the 5 languages lecture and finding out more about the “quality time” language (my primary one) and guessing that my dialect is something of one-on-one conversation and feeling understood, I realized that I need to open up to him more and tell him more about my life—especially my thoughts and feelings on subjects; things that matter to me. His love language is “physical touch” so there isn’t anything I can to about that right now.
I feel bla.
I know I must fight those intruding thoughts, but I don’t know with what to replace them.
I love the positive attention a party in my honor brings. That may seem self-absorbed but I’ve been analyzing different personalities lately and find it fascinating how some people love it and others loathe it. I think I’m healthy enough about it since I don’t try to seek after it but I enjoy it when it comes.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the different and sometimes opposite ways people feel loved since I went to a lecture last week at a Relief Society enrichment on 5 love languages. Even though the attention-starved lecturer said that we all like all 5, I seriously wonder if I don’t like “gifts” at all (that being one of the 5 languages). I love when people give of their time to be with me but that falls under the love language “quality time.” And I love it when other give of their efforts but that falls under “acts of service.” So what qualifies for “gifts” is probably just things ---which are actually usually annoying for me to get.
At the shower for me and my baby (due in 3 weeks), I loved being celebrated. I felt loved. Then I opened all these enormous amount of gifts! It must have cost everyone a ton which just makes me feel sad—totally guilty. And I absolutely hate waste and I don’t need it. Everyone gave me clothes and baby powder. {What in the world do people use baby powder for in the dessert? Everything is already dry.} I don’t need baby girl clothes because everyone has given me sacks and sacks of hand-me-downs. Since I didn’t get to pick out neither the new nor the used, they’re all just the same to me and hardly ever what I would choose. I don’t mean to be ungrateful because I do appreciate it a lot. I’m just trying to understand myself. There are things I do need for this baby like hair bows, headbands with large flowers, a double stroller, diapers, and wipes. But those aren’t the things people like to go shopping for.
In this consumer-minded culture we live in, full of waste and social propriety, people shop, they buy, they give needless gifts, they discard, they waste. I’m trying to be socially apt: trying to take the gift, be gracious for it knowing the intent was to be giving and loving. But now what do I do with the mound of clothes?
I really appreciated the party my friends threw me for my 3rd son: Sterling. There was a group gift so I got what I really needed. I also got about $100 since so many people gave to it and I didn’t need much. I also got so many diapers that the first diaper I bought him wasn’t until he was 6 months old!!! They gave me baby soap, lotion, wipes, thick onsies, etc. Useful gifts. I also received some baby outfits but not in too much excess and it was nice to have a few clothes without major use.
I cherished the shower yesterday. It showed me “see, someone cares” especially after no party for my 30th birthday, no celebration for my 10 year anniversary and little recognition for Mother’s Day—all within the last couple of weeks. Curtis didn’t even send me a gift for any of them. Why would I care since I don’t like gifts? It’s just an easy way to calculate/demonstrate how little he cares. Socially he’s expected to send a gift. Sure I’d prefer something better than that like a night out or a party, but to only get one late card is pretty sad.
Satan has been working hard to plant doubts in my head of our marriage. Not that it’s falling apart but that I’m becoming apathetic towards it. There are no problems but there isn’t much connection either. After the 5 languages lecture and finding out more about the “quality time” language (my primary one) and guessing that my dialect is something of one-on-one conversation and feeling understood, I realized that I need to open up to him more and tell him more about my life—especially my thoughts and feelings on subjects; things that matter to me. His love language is “physical touch” so there isn’t anything I can to about that right now.
I feel bla.
I know I must fight those intruding thoughts, but I don’t know with what to replace them.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
cartwheels over barrels
canyon winds blowing off crisp snow into valleys below,
carrying spring scents including the blossoms of the flowering plum
confetti of small pink flower petals cascading all around in a dance
pink is the color of perfection in pigtails
plump baby fat legs of a baby girl--
probably couldn't be more excited.
carrying spring scents including the blossoms of the flowering plum
confetti of small pink flower petals cascading all around in a dance
pink is the color of perfection in pigtails
plump baby fat legs of a baby girl--
probably couldn't be more excited.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Fringing on Uninspired Works
I'm feeling better today.
Today is my 10 year anniversary. Happy Cinqo De Mayo! Ron thinks it's wierd that I keep singing "Hoppy Anniversary" around the house. Ron helped Grandpa with all his chores this morning around the small farm. Sterling wanted to be involved too so I was out there as well. It was perfect t-shirt temperature for me and my hot belly.
I saw images that I knew I would normally love to capture. Sterling standing in the thick mud of the pasture leaning forward with his hands clutching the chicken wire as he watched, facinated as the chickens pecked at their food. Ron filling up the pigeon feed with pigeons fluttering all around.
But felt so uninspired. I didn't want to force creativity or capturing beauty. I was too tired anyway to go retrieve the camera. In fact, I've been too tired to use it at all lately. The only time I've taken it out is when I give into the self-derived guilt that the moment is too fleeting to let it pass unnoticed.
Later, Ron and Myles and I made monoprints by drawing with crayons on tinfoil placed on a flat skillet turned onto 200 degrees. Then we simply put the paper on the tin foil, pulled it off and voila: a great print. I began to be inspired, imagining myself building a huge hot surface for large prints and getting in the zone of total creation, pounds of discarded crayons at my ready, mixing colors as they melt. But alas I'm too tired. And my mother-in-law said my print was very conventional for me. Which it was. Reverting to convention to not risk failure? Perhaps just trying something more secure for the first one in order to determine what next to try.
When I didn't let the crayon pool too much, it left a lovely texture on the paper. It might be interesting to add a second layer of watercolor.
Or maybe I'm too tired. One day I'll be an artist but leave it for now? Let the roses grow wild, I've got children to attend to? Or is that time for self essential for recomposure and actually improves one's ability to parent? Will I forget how to access my creative zone after leaving it out of practice for so long? Talents and abilities decrease without use.
Today is my 10 year anniversary. Happy Cinqo De Mayo! Ron thinks it's wierd that I keep singing "Hoppy Anniversary" around the house. Ron helped Grandpa with all his chores this morning around the small farm. Sterling wanted to be involved too so I was out there as well. It was perfect t-shirt temperature for me and my hot belly.
I saw images that I knew I would normally love to capture. Sterling standing in the thick mud of the pasture leaning forward with his hands clutching the chicken wire as he watched, facinated as the chickens pecked at their food. Ron filling up the pigeon feed with pigeons fluttering all around.
But felt so uninspired. I didn't want to force creativity or capturing beauty. I was too tired anyway to go retrieve the camera. In fact, I've been too tired to use it at all lately. The only time I've taken it out is when I give into the self-derived guilt that the moment is too fleeting to let it pass unnoticed.
Later, Ron and Myles and I made monoprints by drawing with crayons on tinfoil placed on a flat skillet turned onto 200 degrees. Then we simply put the paper on the tin foil, pulled it off and voila: a great print. I began to be inspired, imagining myself building a huge hot surface for large prints and getting in the zone of total creation, pounds of discarded crayons at my ready, mixing colors as they melt. But alas I'm too tired. And my mother-in-law said my print was very conventional for me. Which it was. Reverting to convention to not risk failure? Perhaps just trying something more secure for the first one in order to determine what next to try.
When I didn't let the crayon pool too much, it left a lovely texture on the paper. It might be interesting to add a second layer of watercolor.
Or maybe I'm too tired. One day I'll be an artist but leave it for now? Let the roses grow wild, I've got children to attend to? Or is that time for self essential for recomposure and actually improves one's ability to parent? Will I forget how to access my creative zone after leaving it out of practice for so long? Talents and abilities decrease without use.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
One Moment at a Time
Last Tuesday was my 30th birthday. It was a nice day but I was without my husband. I've had a tenancy to feel sorry for myself lately which is uterly rediculas when you count my many blessings. But I can't do it all. I can't even contain my tears. I'm so tired. I don't know how to talk to Ron. I haven't the strength. He fights me on everything and is so vendictive if I make one tiny mistake.
I wasn't looking forward to celebrating my 10th wedding anniversary alone this Tuesday.
But what a surprize:!!!: My husband showed up at my bedroom door without anyone knowing he was coming yesterday morning at 8am. I was still in bed and invited him to lay by me. It was so great to have him here but the visit was too short. He flew back today.
I couldn't stop crying as I left the airport and ended up taking the wrong road. When I could finally flip around I ended up taking another wrong road and ended up on I-80West somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
So I just got home and my mind is so jumbled. I wish I could take a break and leave or sleep or something. But I have kids to care for and extended family to visit with (a birthday party is just commencing in the next room). So this is my momentary break. If I can type fast enough perhaps I can get all this mess inside out so I can be normal again.
The only solution I can see is to take one moment at a time trying to lean on the Lord's strength. I feel so empty it's hard to feel close to anyone including God. But I know what's real and I can go off of that knowledge I've gained at earlier times.
I'm fasting today for Curtis. I wish he would recognize God's love and helpful guidance in his life. I hope we can have that in common again sooner than later. Since I'm 8 months pregnant and have to eat something, I'm fasting from everything other than peanutbutter and jelly sandwhiches (which are totally grose to me) and milk to accompany them. Even more difficult since the birthday party today is a dinner party right now. So do I eat dinner right now? Or consider this still lunch time and just eat peanutbutter and jelly? Do I even think my fasting and prayers in this matter even make a difference? No. But that's not good to say so perhaps they do. I know I can't control my husband's decisions even through fasting and prayer so can you tell me what it is I'm really fasting and praying for?
How can I pray for him to change his mind and heart? How can I pray for him to accept God's love? Even if I have the right motives for such a prayer, could it make a difference?
I wasn't looking forward to celebrating my 10th wedding anniversary alone this Tuesday.
But what a surprize:!!!: My husband showed up at my bedroom door without anyone knowing he was coming yesterday morning at 8am. I was still in bed and invited him to lay by me. It was so great to have him here but the visit was too short. He flew back today.
I couldn't stop crying as I left the airport and ended up taking the wrong road. When I could finally flip around I ended up taking another wrong road and ended up on I-80West somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
So I just got home and my mind is so jumbled. I wish I could take a break and leave or sleep or something. But I have kids to care for and extended family to visit with (a birthday party is just commencing in the next room). So this is my momentary break. If I can type fast enough perhaps I can get all this mess inside out so I can be normal again.
The only solution I can see is to take one moment at a time trying to lean on the Lord's strength. I feel so empty it's hard to feel close to anyone including God. But I know what's real and I can go off of that knowledge I've gained at earlier times.
I'm fasting today for Curtis. I wish he would recognize God's love and helpful guidance in his life. I hope we can have that in common again sooner than later. Since I'm 8 months pregnant and have to eat something, I'm fasting from everything other than peanutbutter and jelly sandwhiches (which are totally grose to me) and milk to accompany them. Even more difficult since the birthday party today is a dinner party right now. So do I eat dinner right now? Or consider this still lunch time and just eat peanutbutter and jelly? Do I even think my fasting and prayers in this matter even make a difference? No. But that's not good to say so perhaps they do. I know I can't control my husband's decisions even through fasting and prayer so can you tell me what it is I'm really fasting and praying for?
How can I pray for him to change his mind and heart? How can I pray for him to accept God's love? Even if I have the right motives for such a prayer, could it make a difference?
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