May 2008 Archives

I think I better get this out.

I'm feeling snarky, amongst other things.

To add to the list of my wonderful life at the moment, today I found MOLD growing behind our bed - and lots of it. What else to do but attack it? So I did, taking dirty laundry down to the basement to wash ... to find water, puddled, on the carpeted floor.

Rah! Rant! Rant! Rant! I could go on, get pissy, and probably make some people not like me very much, so I'll stop there.

Last night I had another dream about being an artist, getting asked to participate in a film festival in India for my work (which included a red clay & ruby nautilus that also somehow involved film). I told my mother, "maybe I could actually make a career of this" and she sighed, replying, "that's what I've been trying to tell you."

Well, Liam is 13 months old now. He's not walking yet, but he decided he knew how to climb two days ago.

I say decided because before that he'd sort of lift his leg, not succeed and go on with his life. Then, two days ago, I looked down and suddenly, presto! there was Liam on top of our trunk. Where is our trunk? Oh, right in front of the desk where the computer lives. So, if you see some random plus signs, numbers, etc. in my correspondence, you know why.

It also means he can climb onto furniture. Which means, basically, that a "childproof house" is now a joke. Seriously, try lighting your home or reading a book without it being destroyed by a toddler who can climb.

Some of our friends, who have a 2 and 5 year old themselves, upon learning that Liam can now climb, just laughed and said, "good luck. welcome to the end of the world." This was my mother's favorite time?

On the other hand, he is talking up a storm. It is somehow so much fun to have him 'talk' to me, others, and himself. It seems like he laughs a lot more now, too.

He's also become rather conscious of me moving away from him. Even if I don't leave the room, if I walk away he'll get upset about it. Phew - that means lots of crying. I don't like the crying, but I am not going to give in to him and have that be our frame of reference. I do things like sing as I leave the room so that he knows I still exist and can follow me if he wishes. Otherwise, he can just cry until I come back.

Hmm, maybe I shouldn't end on that note?

I hear they've placed the headstone on my mother's gravesite. My dad said it looks really nice. I look forward to seeing it. With that and the dogwood at her feet that my father planted it should look really nice.

I'm just not one of them.

Maybe I over think things. Maybe it's the migraines. But all this mothering stuff, even if I can do it well, doesn't come naturally to me. Even if it appears so. Even if you think I am because I stay at home, or nurse or whatever. It doesn't come naturally.

I see other mothers make decisions to just keep having children, or get up at all hours of the night for long periods of time, or whatever, and I just think, "nope. I don't have it in me."

[Editor's note: this is where my mother would chime in: "Mara, you are comparing your insides to other people's outsides."]

I know. In fact, one of the 'outsides' I am comparing myself is to my mother. Four?! Four children?! Dear lord in the heavens above, how does anyone ever manage that?! I... I ... I'm speechless.

Frankly, it's a little amazing to me that anyone EVER decides to have even a second child. In fact, I am in awe that humanity continues to exist and that one generation simply didn't say, umm, heck no! Thanks, but no thanks!

So, if you ask me how motherhood is treating me, and I stumble? This is what's running through my head (simultaneously with a "what's an acceptable response?").