September 2009 Archives

Dear Mama,

Liam is busy being super cute lately. I am mostly enjoying what I see in him as he gets older - as opposed to being frustrated by the challenges. The other day, as we were waiting for Mark to get out of work, he argued with me that Mark was his husband, not mine. This morning, he found one of my silk scarves, put it on and proclaimed himself now a girl.

We are making progress on him sleeping in his own bed, too. Slowly, for sure, but I can't take him crying for an hour now any better than I could two years ago. There is an element of sadness to it for me, as I am essentially extracting myself from physically being present for him as he falls asleep. I don't rock him to sleep, I don't pat his back as he falls asleep - I simply sit next to his bed and sing to him. If he talks/sings/whines then I move to the chair in the opposite corner of the room. That currently is enough to generally keep him quiet, though he has started asking me to "be gentle on my back" - and when he asks for that, well, thus far I haven't been able to refuse. Regardless, he has started falling asleep much faster and that is reassuring. He still wakes up in the middle of the night, though less frequently, and occasionally he actually stays in his own bed all night. So we're getting there.

I'm not focusing on potty training at all anymore, as I've chosen bed issues as our focus for now. But yesterday he spontaneously asked to go to the bathroom - and did! We encourage that, of course, but there is no pushing on our part for now. There's time.

In buying this house, Mark and I knew we wanted to add a half bath. It's turning out to be a rather involved project. Yikes! I am trying to be calm about how much we are going to have to do to the house in order to add a freaking toilet, but I know it's the right thing to do, so I am trying really, really hard not to completely breakdown over the fact that we have to spend money on something other than groceries. Unfortunately, it is complicated enough that we really can't do it ourselves with any amount of confidence.

I've got the morning to myself today. Mark and Liam are over at the Baha'i Center for a meeting. I have a bridal shower to go to soon, so I stayed home. It's been very nice (and productive, of course! ha!). But it would've been even nicer to have had you here to share it with me. Thank you, Mama, for everything you gave me.

Love,
Mara

Dear Mama,

Labor Day weekend was a busy one for us. We had so much fun taking Liam on his first camping trip. Mark thinks it went 'remarkably well' for our first camping outing. Just between you and me, I know it was you and Papa raised us as campers ;-) It certainly didn't hurt that I had your old pickle barrels full of camping goodies to jog my memory on everything I needed to bring for a well-stocked kitchen, either. Thank you. I think the biggest thing we forgot was a lantern/candles. No biggie.

Liam had a blast, made new friends, loved the tent and absolutely reveled in helping with the fire. I'm glad we did it, though I imagine it'll be another two years before we do it again!

Camping: check. Now onto preschool. I know it's at least a year away, but I need to start learning about what's out there in order to even get into a preschool, let alone make an informed decision.

Holy cratcholie! Not only are there a ton of choices, but WOW! is it pricey! Why do I feel like I have to get a job just to pay for preschool? I'm talking several thousand dollars - and that's a 'moderately' priced preschool! I know the first couple of years of school are especially crucial to a boy and how he views and is viewed in school. I don't want to mess this up. But seriously? There's a part of me that is considering skipping preschool altogether. Let alone two years of it.

I didn't even know there were different types of preschools - play vs. learning schools. I sure as heck don't plan on shelling out that type of cash for a 'play' school. That is for certain. I can make sure he gets 'socialized' in other ways. But does he need that structure - do I need to pay out the nose - for him to learn his letters and numbers? Really? This stuff is mind-blowing.

Your daughter out in the cosmos,
Mara

Dear Mama,
There's this void in me. I'm not sure how to explain it. I have no idea whether it is your lack of presence. I suspect that is only part of it. I feel like I keep trying to fill it - or perhaps cover it? - with something or someone, but nothing changes. It feels like there is part of me missing and I don't even know what part that is. Someone your age just made an entrepreneurial start and mentioned that it felt like everything she'd done in her life was leading up to this ... is this what I'm in search for? And I have to wait 20 years for it? Struggling to figure things out ... and, dare I say it without sounding completely morbid ... just to die?

What's particularly frustrating is that usually, I would pick up the phone and call you, or just come for a visit, have Papa play with Liam and sit down to a cup of tea with you in the living room. You'd ask the probing questions, discuss your own journey, offer your opinions of what my strengths and weaknesses are and then say something along the lines of, "you'll figure it out eventually" with a proud, slightly wry smile on your face, take another sip of your tea and suggest we go outside to join the boys.

On the other hand, I know you LOVED raising us. I know this. I know because you told me. And sometimes, I feel conflicted about the daily grind of childrearing. I know you didn't particularly relate. Which leaves me feeling inadequate. Again. So, do I just think I suck and need to get some self-esteem and patience with myself? What a rut.

Or is it all the pregnancy, and I should just have a cup of tea and not think too much about anything for, oh, another year?

Is this how you felt after your mother died? How ironic is it that my best resource on how to deal with a mother's death is the very reason I need this advice?

Well, I'm feeling the cosmic joke lineage, that's for sure. Have a chuckle on me.

Love,
Mara