mamaloo

I am not sure

(has anyone seen Idiocracy?)

I am not sure what direction to go with this blog anymore.

Mamaloo began as my chronicle of life with my first child. Like most new parents, I was excited and wanted to share my experience with my friends and family. I also hoped blogging would force me to write regularly, because I am a reluctant writer. I have a thousand ideas and concepts that nobody sees except the inside of my skull--the projection screen behind my eyeballs. I wanted to change that, and I hoped this blog would help me.

So I started this blog as a parenting blog, because that was my life at the time. I looked around at my peers, the other parenting blogs I read. I said to myself, oh! That's how you write a parenting blog, I see! And I was off. But...and now I am about to overgeneralize, forgive me universe...

It seems as if parenting blogs* in general strive for a jolly voice, a witty look at their parenting experience, their adorable children, and their perhaps enviable life. And seeing that, I think maybe I really wanted my life to be that, so when I wrote, that's what I shot for. I wanted to be jolly and cute and enviable. Fuck! Let's be honest, I've wanted to be that my whole life! But, I'm just not feeling that anymore. I'm not feeling the jolly, certainly not the cute, and something would be wrong if you were to envy me, if you knew my whole story.

So I can't write that blog anymore, because it's not who I am and how I'm feeling. And I'm not sure yet what I am feeling. I'm not the me I was a year ago. The me I am now is still forming and I'm not sure it's going to be pretty and I'm not sure the average reader is really going to want to hear it.

It feels a little strange to take this blog in a different direction. It may be more honest and more fitting to just start another one. However. I do think it's important that there be some voices in the blog world honestly documenting their parenting experience, their human experience. I mean honestly as in, tell the real story. Do you want to run away and never come back? I mean, really run away, and never come back? Have you been tempted to throw your baby out of your second floor window? Have you come reeeeeealllly close? Is the guilt of that more than you can bear? Are there days you can't stop crying? And are your friends losing patience with you?

Somebody needs to say these things, in print, somewhere. So that those of us who do feel those things can find them, and can maybe find relief, stop feeling so ashamed and alone.

I champion the cause of the struggling parent because y'all, I struggle a lot. Right now in fact I would even say I am struggling massively. There are reasons why, reasons I may or may not reveal here. I'm still sorting that out.

Whatever I decide, I promise to let you know.

And now, I am rambling. And so I shall say goodnight. 

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* Right now, let me say that I am completely out of touch with the blogging world, I have not read someone else's blog except Perez Hilton's for like 2 years, maybe things have changed and maybe my head is entirely up my ass. This I fully cop to. Read with a grain of salt.

Back

Thank you, "missing you" whoever you are. You pushed me over the edge to reactivate the blog.

Many changes, new developments and challenges...I will have to take it slowly and see where we go together, but for now...

look who's 4!

Scratch that

The thing about having kids--or maybe, the thing about having these kids--is that the vision never matches reality. Or, reality never lives up to the vision. No matter how many times I live it, I am still surprised to find that my vision and reality exist in different universes entirely.

It's never how I think it's going to be. I don't know how many times it has to happen before it sinks in. I'm three years into this madness and I still expect it to be different. I expect to be able to take my banshees into a restaurant AND eat a meal there. I expect to be able to attend a friend's bbq AND eat a meal there. AND converse with someone besides my children or husband for more than ten seconds at a time. But it N E V E R  H A P P E N S.

It's NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN!

Tonight, we drove over into the SW part of town on an errand. We rarely go there, and some dear friends live there. We were passing by and I've wanted E to see their house, because it's fabulous and such a perfect expression of C, the mistress of the house, with whom E and I used to work. They were work pals and rarely get to see each other. C and I were work pals too--when I was single, before E was a part of my life, I would give C rides home from work and she'd ask me in for a glass of wine, and we'd drink and talk about work or what was going on in our hearts or our hopes for ourselves and our futures. It was a time in my life that had no schedule or agenda. I had no-one to go home to. Often, C's husband J was out, working or at school, so she'd be alone at home had I not stayed. It's hard to say who needed who more, but we were there for each other. Those are some of the sweetest times with a friend that I can remember. I treasure my memories of those times like I treasure C and her J.

So that's what I had in mind when I spontaneously called them as we were passing their house, to ask could we stop by? I wanted them to see the boys, and I wanted E to see their house, and in my mind, these things would happen all orderly-like. We'd arrive, the boys would be cute, C and J would show us their lovely house, their newly remodeled floor. And we'd admire, and talk for a minute, pet the doggie, promise to get together soon and leave. It would be composed, controlled, enjoyable.

Instead? We were a living commercial for reasons not to have children. It was insanity! Mayhem! Loo grabbed C's computer mouse and began to navigate through whatever work document she had open. He ran from appliance to appliance testing the power buttons. He wanted out. He wanted in. He barked at their dog, who was beyond excited at our presence and could not contain himself. We spent every single second there, intervening and instructing. Little hands were everywhere! The noise level! The energy level! J, C's husband, said to me "so, it's like this? is it like this all the time? aren't you, you know, going crazy?" in the way of someone who works in medical, for whom the term "crazy" is not an adjective. You get the feeling J really knows the meaning of crazy and that's what he was asking me and the answer is YES. I am going crazy. Yes, it is like this all day long and you bet, I'm going CRAZY crazy. That kind. The real kind.

If you want kids, but don't have them yet. I want to assure you, and reassure you, you have SO MUCH right now. So much that will be gone when the little ones come. Peace, quiet, sleep, accomplishment, leisure, travel, all these things will be GONE. In their place? Some crazy. So don't hurry too much. Enjoy those glasses of wine, those slow talks on summer evenings in the back yard with good friends. You won't know you'll miss them 'til they're gone.

The Cuteness, it is Great

Warning: my voice is kind of loud and comes at you suddenly around 0.07, beware! Sorry about that. The combined adorableness of these three will more than make up for it, though!

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There's a ribbon in the sky

The first amazing thing is that STEVIE WONDER is going on tour!

The second amazing thing is he is not playing stadiums but wineries and small grassy ampitheatres!

The third and most amazing thing is I GOTS ME SOME TICKETS.

I'M GOIN' TO SEE STEVIE WONDER !!!!!

Three

So, apparently, if you feed and care for one of these:

three years later, you might end up with something like this:

Tonight, after all the fun and frolic and celebration was tucked in bed, I said to E,
"We kept one alive for three years!"

That really is, in itself, amazing if you think about it. But even more amazing is how thoroughly our lives have been filled with you, my Sweetie Loo. At only three years old, we're already muttering, "look out, world!" because you, my little love, have big plans and no fear. What a wonderful world you live in, my Three:

"Anything is possible! Certainly we must try it!"

It is difficult to walk the line, the line where we teach you what's acceptable and right, without killing that "anything's possible! let's try it!" spirit.

When we tell you no, you cannot have a popsicle, you search the house for the "big stool", lug it to the kitchen and hop up to the freezer to have a look-see. Are there any popsicles? You just don't believe us when we say NO.

Well, we do have to work on that one, but what you don't know is that behind you, as you scurry past us with your latest plan twirling in your eyes, your father and I glance at each other and grin, and our eyes dance with delight at your cleverness and your determination and your industry! (Which, though secretly admirable, for your own good will not win you that popsicle, son, not this time.)

But my favorite thing about you, if I may be allowed to point at one of your characteristics as proof that we must be doing something right, is that you are completely comfortable in your own skin. So comfortable, that you greet everyone we meet (primarily adults!) with salutations and conversations that raise eyebrows at their precociousness. You think nothing of sauntering up to blase hipsters staring into space in cafes with a "Hi Guys! how YOU doin?" Oh and pretty girls? Forget it.

Where do you get your confidence, your social fearlessness, your love for interacting with people everywhere you go? Clearly, not from me, so I'm tagging your dad on that one. But you should know, my Three, that for your ways, Mama is so proud of you.

I love that you know the intro to James' Brown's "Sex Machine" ("Fellas, I wanna get up and do MY thing!") and that you are as excited about the number three as I would be, say, about a hundred dollar bill. I love that you run screaming to me "Hiiiiiiiii Mama!!!!!" each time, every time I come home from an errand or you come home from an outing, as if you haven't seen me for a year.

I love your love of learning. We've had to teach you almost nothing--you have learned so much on your own. This speaks to your powers of observation, which will no doubt serve you well in your future acting career (which seems inevitable). Let us not forget your interpretive dancing skills, as they are impressive and I'm not even joking. They are. I love your dancing. I love that an entire section waved Goodbye! to you as we carried you out of a Zoo Concert, your dancing had entertained them so. I love that you copy the ballerinas on your "Art" tape and that you search for my pink tank top for your "tutu" for that part. I love that you run to find whatever prop or outfit you NEED for whatever particular scene you wish to act out at any particular moment.

I love that you memorize lines from your favorite videos and songs and then use them in conversation, in the correct context!

(I even love that you swear correctly and enthusiastically--though thankfully not too frequently--for which I know I am going straight to hell but dammit it's funny. We'll work on that later.)

I can't keep up with all that you want to do with each day. You, my child (I never thought I'd hear these words come out of my mouth), make me feel old and yet at the same time, remind me of how it felt to be your age, surrounded by sedentary adults. If only they would move! If only they would look! If only they would play!

I'll try to remember more, Sweetie Loo, I will. Hopefully I'm not too old, not just yet.

Happy Birthday, my beautiful and amazing Three.

Love,

Mama

On my Birthday

It really is a strange thing how years just whiz by in the blink of an eye these days. Don't they? Wasn't it just last summer, like, three weeks ago?

And here we are, another year, another birthday, and this year it's just one shy of the big Four O. I don't feel ready. In my mind, I am still 14/19/24 years old. I keep waiting for that feeling to go away, that sort of suspended animation in my head where I do not age, but I don't know if it's going to. I'll probably go to my grave still feeling like a little slip of a girl.

I don't remember where my head was a year ago today, and it's hard for me to say exactly where it is now. I'm not feeling all that celebratory, just kind of dumb (in the lingual sense) and dense and overmedicated, like a plant overdosed on fertilizer. Oh my goodness this is sounding absolutely dreary!!! I promise it's not so bad, it's just my writing that's bad at 5am and therefore, I must off to bed...hopefully, more sensible posts to follow.   

No Va

We bailed. I am greatly relieved! We just don't have what it takes to move and homeown right now, and I am so glad we recognized that. Our stress level was going through the roof. Even though it could have been a very good thing, it is not the right time. We both feel much better, and we are NOT looking at any more real estate. Besides, we just discovered our rental has central air, so we'd be jackasses to move away just as summer rolls in.

Whew! Now I can plant my tomatoes and basil.

Back to the Future

So last week, I was out walking, just walking along and suddenly, a silver platter winged me in the side of the head. I got up off the ground, rubbed my head and looked, and on the platter was this house, and the house was saying "ahem...".

We have totally not been looking at real estate. But we went to see it. And I'm sorry to report: We loved it.

The house said Come Live Here and I said Oh SHIT! Because: I do NOT want to move in 30 days. And I'm not sure I'm ready to leave the house we live in now. And I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to homeownership. We have been avoiding real estate! We haven't even been looking!

But then here comes this house. What do you do when the right house comes along? Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You have to at least try for it, right?

So we offered (which was accepted!) and we're in the inspection period right now. In fact, the house inspection is tomorrow, and I'm half hoping something big is wrong with it! buying a house again feels so overwhelming! But you guys, it really is so right for us in so many ways. DAMMIT!!!

Happy Birthday, little Froggie

One year ago today, this is what we were doing:

I will always remember my first glimpse of you. The doctor performing your birth poked you over the curtain as soon as you were born, so I could see you. You looked exactly like this picture except you were screaming (rightfully so). I'll always remember that first glimpse. I had no idea what you would look like, and then suddenly there you were.

You and I spent your first days, just the two of us, in the hospital. It was instant love. You slept in the crook of my arm. You "got" breastfeeding right away. You slept easily and never cried, until they took you away from me to the nursery to weigh you. They told me it would take fifteen minutes but they kept you for over an hour and the nurse got snippy with me when I called them to say, "bring him back NOW." It was very late and I did not want to fall sleep without knowing where you were. You were crying at the top of your lungs when they brought you back. As soon as you hit my outstretched arms, you stopped crying. You knew who your mama was.

We really didn't know what to expect when we brought you home. We'd never had a second child before, only your brother. But you were nothing like your brother, you were YOU. You were your own self.

We were unprepared for the wealth of joy you would bring us. I called you "our little joy-bomb," because you were, a little joy-bomb going off and spreading your joy around, constantly. In those first weeks and months that most mothers of newborns are exhausted empty shells of their former selves, I was enjoying my new motherhood. Because you allowed me to.

Your brother, on the other hand, wasn't entirely sure we had not made a huge mistake. But he was willing to tolerate you. You were mostly just background for him and that was good enough.

Today, you two are great pals. You are a perfectly adoring little brother. You don't mind providing the audience for your divalicious older brother. That's what's so great about you.

And now, sweet Froggie, today, you are one year old! No more a baby, you are becoming a little boy.

Thank you so much for coming into our family. Thank you for your cheer and easy-going ways. Thank you for your joy and your affection and your sweet self. Thank you for you, little Froggie, and happy birthday.