For The Love of Mother Earth

This evening I plummeted through the dark in Milli-Van in the misty rain, with Peanut sleeping and Boodge full of  questions.  We were on our way home from visits in the city, and I was trying to listen to the CBC's "The Current" (you can listen to the episode here). Anna Maria Tremonti was interviewing the opposition party environment critics, and Environment Minister Peter Kent, about Canada's pull-out of the Kyoto Accord, and their shameful (in my humble opinion) representation of our country and more importantly, our children, in Durban.  My children.  Listening to such discussions, I struggle not to go to a dark place, envisioning my children as adults in a post-apocalyptic, uninhabitable world.  Tell me I'm not the only one?

From the back seat: "Mummy? What's camrit change?"
"Climate change? It's, um, it's changes in our world's weather, in the...."
"No, CAMRIT change.  CAMRIT change." He insisted. 
"Well, camrit change doesn't exist, what they're talking about on the radio is called climate change."  I was happy to buy some time.  I didn't want to have to explain climate change to my son.  What could I tell him these people on the radio were saying about his potential future? That millions may die, billions would suffer, the earth become a hostile place. 
"What's climate change?"
"Well, it's the weather of our world...our world is getting hotter, that's climate change."
"Why's our world getting hotter?"
"It's getting hotter because of...of things we are doing--people are doing.  We're using the earth too much, building and driving a lot and wasting and that is making the earth hotter.  It's not good for the world."
"Why's it not good for the world."
"Because, it hurts the earth." Yes, I copped out on a circular answer.  And then I veered. "That's why we have to do our best to recycle and compost, and not waste and not buy things we don't need.  That's how we can help the earth." 

He stopped asking questions then and I was glad.  Now the Conservative Environment Minister was on the radio, smoothing out his actions over the past two weeks. I drifted back to my own thoughts, checking regularly in the rear view mirror to see if Boodge was finally falling asleep.  He wasn't.  I hoped this wasn't going to be one of those drives home where he never goes to sleep, gets more and more punchy, and arrives at the house drunk-tired.  It was already past 8:30.

Then from the backseat.  "Mummy?  Um, MUMMY!!" He is shouting.  I'd told him he has to speak up in Milli-Van, it's hard to hear him over the buzz of the road and heaters. 
"Yes, honey?"
"MUMMY! I'm trying not to have too many farts."
"What? Are you farting?"
"No, I'm trying not to have too many farts. I don't want to have too many farts."
"Why? Do you have to poo?" That would surely keep him up.  Ugh.
"No, Mummy. I'm trying not to have too many farts for our earth.  To help the world from getting hotter."  

How can my heart break a little while I laugh like that? And where do we go from there? I told him his farts were surely not going to be the problem and he could fart as much as he wanted, people have been farting for all time and that wasn't going to hurt the earth.  And I couldn't resist telling him that if he wanted to help the earth, one way was to not get a lot of plastic toys or other things that would just end up in the garbage one day. 

I'm pretty sure this will not be our last discussion about climate change.  People dread the "sex" talks with their kids, but to me, those seem easy.  This, the fact that our mother planet is in jeopardy, that his generation could see some drastic, difficult changes...this is hard. I need to think about what to say to him, what to teach him to help him live in this possible future, or avoid it.  And to allow him to fart freely, and keep delighting me and making me laugh.

Help me, peoples? What do you tell your children?

How I Be

Hi, everyone. I miss you.  I really do.  If you're still reading here, despite my relative absence from this space, thank you. I'm getting this blessed moment in bed in the afternoon with no kids around, so I thought I'd take a moment to catch up with A Mama Being. Then I can at least register two posts in November. Whooopeee!!

Where have I been? I've allowed myself to take a break from A Mama Being, because my energy is just not in it lately. Maybe it's the winter setting in. I read recently that humans have a part of them that still wants to hibernate when the weather turns cold. I can relate.  I want to bake, bundle up, drink tea, and at the end of the day before I sleep, let someone else's creations fill my mind, rather than use my tired brain to put words together in a way worth publishing. But there's more to it, because though I think of topics to blog about and have even composed almost full posts, I'm just not hitting publish these days. I'm feeling private. And I'm not sure where A Mama Being is going from here.

Something has changed. Three and a half years in, I feel like I am fully inhabiting the space of Mother. I'm not transitioning anymore. I'm not figuring out who I am as a mum, or how to do it (as much as anyone else, that is) with the same intensity. I've come into some sort of stride here, settled in for the marathon that is parenting, pacing myself accordingly.

Now  I can wheel two screaming, sobbing children through the produce section and find humour in the situation, even if the people around me can't.  I don't worry about what the people around me are thinking so much. I don't spend evenings reading advice on parenting, because half the time it makes me feel like I'm not doing this or that well enough.  When in fact, I am. More and more I'm just going with what I know about myself and my kids, trusting my own insight. And when the shit hits (and it does pretty much daily), I seem to be able to let it go more easily, and forgive myself and my kids quickly. The rest of the time, things are feeling pretty harmonious.

Since Peanut was born I've been practicing letting go of my high expectations for myself and others and focusing on how things are really, really good just as they are.  I'm not trying to force things into an image I've created as much as I used to.  I've been letting be, and leaving well enough alone.  It's working for me. So when I stopped feeling like blogging, I let that be, too. I'm thinking a lot about what my return to work will look like, but I'm in absolutely no hurry to get there.  I'm enjoying raising my kids, my family doesn't need a second income right now, so I'm leaving well enough alone. 

I wonder if I'll get back the interest I used to have in my blog. I wonder if I'll get back the interest I used to have in my work. But I'm not worried.  I'm pretty sure that life will show me where to go next, or some new challenge will arise. I don't feel like questioning things and picking them apart. And I certainly don't feel like creating any angst where there is none.

Maybe I should have called this blog "A Mama Becoming". Because when I started it, that's what I was. Now, only, do I feel like a full-fledged, lightly seasoned, Mama, being.  I read this beautiful blog post some time ago.  The writer, Ekere, talks about how when we become mothers, the person we were before dies.  For a time we are lost in the tumble of babies, sleeplessness, feedings, cleanings, survival for ourselves and our small charges. And then we are reborn, but we don't know ourselves anymore, and we have to find out who the new self is.  I felt as if she wrote straight from my heart.  I have felt, lately, like I am re-emerging.  But as what?  Those new shoots are too tender to share here, right now.  They are too tender to poke at. I'll just let them grow.

So most likely, there is still lots of life in this blog, but I'm not sure what that will look like. I'm not looking for an international following (though that would be nice if it could make me money), I'm not here to advocate for certain parenting choices. I'm not trying to keep an online journal.  I'm not interested in debating and criticizing each other in my comments section.  I'm just looking to connect with all of you out there on this life and family journey who want to connect.  I want to know I'm not alone and I want you all to know that too.  And I want to document some of the amazing, surreal, hilarious and confusing moments in my life as my family grows along.

For all of you that want to share these words with me, thank you. And those of you that take the time to tell me in comments and in person that you got something out of what I wrote, you are the reason I still want to come here and see what happens next.  I am so inspired by the community that a little blog can create.  So I'll be back, but I hope you don't mind just letting things be with me for a while. It's winter, anyway. Let's just relax, shall we, and see what emerges?

Pumpkin Love

Yesterday, inspired by this recipe for Pumpkin Puree posted at Pioneer Woman, I rescued Baby Jack O'Lantern (the one I carved on Peanut's behalf) from the stoop and hacked it up.  Before I knew it, I was staring at two cookie sheets of pumpkin pieces, waiting to be peeled and pureed, just at the end of my day. I felt like an idiot.  Especially when I realized that I had forgotten that we have no food processor anymore...it broke a long time ago, actually, and the puree was supposed to be done in a processor.  But I recovered.  I cut the skin off that pumpkin and I put it in a big bowl and pureed it well enough with my hand blender. I got two bags of enough to fill a pie, which I froze, and another large container which I put in the fridge.

Then I started wondering what I was going to do with all that pumpkin. And I found tons of amazing looking pumpkin recipes online.  Pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin muffins, cookies, soups, curry.  Who knew there were so many uses for pumpkin?  I couldn't believe that in years past, I have just gotten rid of the Jack O'Carcass with no thought to the fact that it's food.  Yummy food.

This morning, I had a smoothie with pumpkin, banana blackberries, vanilla yogurt, soy milk, a dash of cinnamon and random fruit juice.  It was creamy and thick with the pumpkin.  Then this afternoon Booge and I made this yummy pumpkin-banana bread.  I'm about to go have another piece.  But first I wanted to come on here and say to all of you--if you haven't rescued Jack or Jackie from the porch, and s/he is still viable, do this. Hack it, roast it, puree it, freeze it, eat it.

I roasted another one tonight. It's sitting on the counter, waiting to be peeled and pureed.  Maybe tomorrow.

A letter to Peanut, on her first birthday.

Poor second (and third, fourth, fifth, sixth...) children, they never get it as good as the first had it.  Over a week since my baby girl turned one and I'm just getting her birthday post out.  We've been out of town for two weeks, touring the Ontario/Quebec family, and introducing Ms. Peanut to those who had yet to meet her.  It is amazing that she got to meet both her great-grandmothers.  Now--here is her birthday post. 

Dear sweet Peanut,  

One year ago I held your tiny, light, loose body in my arms for the first time after a perfectly wonderful birth.  One year already.  I still can close my eyes and feel the moment of joy that came when I first saw that you were a girl.  My longed for daughter, my little woman, my "mini-me".  Don't worry, I don't really want to try to make you in my image, I want to find out who you are, and watch your path unfold before you.  But whether or not you make the same choices as I did, you will still come many of the same crossroads, just by virtue of your sex.  You will be treated as a woman, by society, whatever that means for your generation.  I know some of that path, and some of it's pitfalls.  I will be there beside you to tell you what I know.  And when you don't want me there, know that if you make a wrong turn, you can call me anytime to come meet you and take you back.   

Me and Mom and Peanut

Peanut and her Great-Grandmother compete over cookies.

Lucky for you, you were born into a family full of truly admirable women, who will be there too.  Warm, wise, open-hearted, funny, outspoken, humanitarian...one day you will be one of us.  My relationship with my own mother is irreplaceable, it has sustained me like soil to a plant.  I dearly hope to return that blessing to you.   I am so grateful to be your mother.

Must. Get. Hot dog.

You are a delight.  Just as you came into the world, easily, you have continued.  People always comment on how "easy" you are, how mellow, how "good".  I think of you as peaceful.  Unruffled. You have given me very few bad nights of sleep, without obvious reasons.  You can sit quietly and think about things, and explore on your own for long periods of time.  At dinner I put food on your tray and you simply feed yourself until you are done (at which point you make an insistent and persistent racket until I take you out of your chair, and then you try to climb onto the table and throw all the dishes onto the floor....I didn't say you weren't determined or rambunctious or clear when you want something).  When your brother is getting worked up, you don't hop on the bandwagon and add to the drama.  Instead, you graciously move to the side and find yourself something to do until I'm ready for you again.


You have a throaty cackle that comes out spontaneously as you are plunging forward out of control (you started walking a short while ago), chasing your brother, trying to grab the glasses off my face, climbing on something you know will get Mama after you.  You love music. Any good beat will get you dancing your knee bending, head-bopping, hand-clapping dance immediately.  When I sing your little lullaby, you nod your head to the beat while nursing. In fact, you like to nod your head often as a way of making conversation. A sign, I like to think, of your positive, upbeat nature.

You cuddle.  You often will come up to one of us, climb up, and press your whole body against us.  Suck your thumb and enjoy the petting.  You pet too, your little hands stroking my arm or tummy.  I feel your love. I'm so glad for our nights together cuddling, the one time of day when I have you all to myself and I can take in your peacefulness.   This first year of your life has flown by in a haze of activity, and there have not been enough moments of sitting quietly with you and just taking you in.  It is lovely the way you sometimes want to just sit on me and zone out.  I'll be glad if you can bring more of that into my life. 

Before you came I wondered what you would teach me.  Becoming a mother taught me so much, impacted every single area of my life, changed my identity.  What would the second child bring to my learning?  As we meet this one year milestone I can see what the shift to being a Mama of two has brought.   "Do not grieve what doesn't exist; cling to what does." (That's Rumi--check him out one day, daughter.)

As a mother of two, I had to learn to let go of my ideals.  Let go of the idea that I could attain them, that is.  I had to let go of free time, of control. I had to acknowledge my and others' limitations and recognize that everything was good enough, things are great, actually, and every morning, every minute, even, is a fresh start. And I'm not going to get back any of these days, so why waste them by stressing about the details?

Of course, babies don't do silly things like ruminate about invented scenarios that didn't happen, or did happen, or cannot happen, or haven't happened yet. I am far from being as good at it as you are.  Maybe you can teach me more about it. Maybe together we can remember to just enjoy what is.  I have a feeling the secret is in the quiet zoning out and exploring alone for long periods of time.  And lots of cuddles.

|Enjoying cake.

Finding a cold bevvy in the flower patch. What could be better?

 

Life is good.

I look forward to getting to know you better, little woman.  Happy Birthday. Here's to a long and happy life together.

Storms coming through

Today was a good day. Harmonious. Boodge, in his wisdom, said, "No, I think we should just stay home all day, play in the backyard," when I suggested we head out to our local Strong Start.  He could see it was going to be a beautiful day.  He had said as much when I woke up, gazing happily out the window.  Peanut was sick so it was better for her to stay home anyway.  It was me who wanted adult company, but not enough to try to motivate all of us against our will into nice clothes and breakfasts and carseats.

Peanut napped early and Boodge and I got a good cuddle in watching the remains of the Bob the Builder he watched while I put her to sleep.  We don't cuddle much these days, he's always on the go, or I am, two steps behind his sister as she plunges forward on her two feet, climbing and tumbling and giggling completely unaware of the danger she is in.

Then we headed out to the sandbox (oh, how I wish it was four times the size...had I known how passionate he would become about that little patch of dirt), where we played builders of roads, using our deeper, "man" voices (Boodge's is hilarious) to narrate the amazing load lifting and jack-hammering we are accomplishing.  Every now and then I announced I was taking a "rest break!", slipped over into the sunshine, and did a few minutes of yoga.  Harmonious.

It has not been that way much lately.  Boodge is working something out, something I'm still divining, which is taking the form of angry, fists punching the air, loud-as-I-can screaming.  He wants it his way SO badly, he is enraged by his powerlessness, he pulls at his father and I, using his entire energy to will what he wants (a slurpee, to not leave the playground, to have crackers out of the new tube rather than the open one).  It's been a couple of weeks now where there's no telling what will bring him to his knees.  I do my best, but I often end up unable to help myself from lecturing him or telling him I've had enough, already, just give it a rest.  At the end of many days I've felt so tired from trying to take a stand in his storm. 

Is it starting preschool? He doesn't want to talk about what he does there, but he seems to love going.  Is it his sister starting to walk, and always getting up in his stuff, while also getting constant coos and cheers of adoration from her parents, while he is getting his name called out in tones of frustration, resignation, commandment?  Is it the impending trip to visit family on an airplane which he fears will be "too loud"?  Is it just a power play, a testing of the limits, trying to see if he can ignore the rules? These are the questions I started asking when it became clear to me that something was going on, and it wasn't about the slurpee.  We were in a pattern I recognized from before.  And when I could list so many possible issues, I knew that it was all of them, and probably more. 

So I'm working all the angles, pulling him in, giving him boundaries and love both.  I'm waiting out a lot of tears.  During the cracker episode, which had gone on for half an hour, I said in exasperation and wonder, "Wow buddy, you sure do have a lot of tears and yelling in you these days."
"I do!" he sobbed, "I have a lot of tears in me! I'm really mad."
"What are you so mad about?" He was sprawled over my lap, half kicking me away, half in my arms.
"Because I don't want Peanut always int'rested in me. I don't want her wrecking my train track. I don't want to share my pumpkin. I want you to stop her."  Something like this, he choked out. 

Of course we've been dealing with that a lot, little babe coming in and stomping the construction site in his sandbox, disturbing the road he's been working to make flat for ten minutes.  Pulling up on his lego tower and destroying it.  She wants to do what he's doing, she adores him with clear blue fascinated eyes.  He's frustrated, and Peanut is equally frustrated if I pull her away from the heart of the action all the time.  She screams at me.  I  try to engage them both, I try to encourage Boodge to share, play nicely.  He often does, but lately he's not having it.  So the best I can do is play with her away from his projects, which means Boodge plays alone.  His choice, but still the situation is difficult for all concerned.  And also I know it will pass as they grow.  It is growing pains, that's all. 

He can feel himself becoming more capable, free, and powerful, and he needs to know that I am clear about my limits, strong enough to hold him as he ventures ever further, and to pull him back into my arms sometimes and give him lots of love.  I've noticed that today he resurfaced a game he used to play a lot when Peanut was just new.  "Save me, Mama, save me!" he would call from some far off corner of the house.  "Mama, help."  Sometimes he would do this just when I was in the room with him.  Often he would do it when I was nursing, or changing a diaper, or soothing a crying baby.  "Help, Mama."  Sometimes I would play along, but often I would have to say, "I can't come right now, I'm busy."  He set me up that way. 

That is what his stormy periods are about.  "Help me, Mama."  And the longer I parent the more I believe that he can help himself if I can just move in and support him the right way.  But also the more I am aware that often I will not really understand what is troubling him, or be able to do anything to fix it.  I understand how all kinds of other life can get in the way to keep me from being right there for him when he needs me.  The longer I parent the better I know my own fallibility, and also my own skills as a mother.  I understand that parenting is a fine balance, a juggling act, even, of factors I can and cannot control.  Somehow, that makes me feel more confident.

Does that make any sense? I don't know. But today was harmonious.  There was yoga. There was sunshine. There was a cuddle where I breathed in my sweet boy.  And there was time in the sandbox, digging and jack-hammering and using our big man voices.  I love my little guy, screaming demands and fist waving and all.  We will juggle our way out of these storms, I'm sure of it.  

Top 7 Reasons I Haven't Been Blogging Much

1. No time.  
I spend my days with two little ones who need a lot from me, and I cannot have my eyes, body, and hands occupied with something else for more than 30 seconds or so during the day. I could blog in 30 second stretches but I find it hard to remember what I was thinking about before I cleaned up a pee, cut up an apple, and answered a question like, "Do wolves stink?" as honestly as I could.  When they are in bed, I am often not interested in writing.  It's easier to just chill out with Sean on the couch.  Which I suppose could be another reason:

2. Netflix 
I used to much prefer blogging to anything on TV, but now that we have Netflix, I can cue up something good for us and that can suck up an hour very quickly.  We are working our way through Arrested Development.  It reminds me all too well of my two years living in Southern California. Funny stuff. 

3.  Summertime
Something about summer just makes me less pensive. I want to be outside, enjoying the weather and the moments, not navel gazing at my computer.  Up to a week ago, it was so hot that by evening my body was completely drained, and there was no brain power left to blog.  Now that the weather is cooling a little, I'm already feeling my eyes drop to my navel and regaining the energy to write what I see there.


4.  Sitting hurts.
And here I have to digress a little.  After having Boodge, nursing him all the time and bouncing him to sleep on the exercise ball several times a day for months on end, I developed really bad back pain. It hurt every time I moved, basically, and sitting was also problematic. I ended up going to a chiropractor, something I had never done before, and he was fantastic and healed it, as well as teaching me its root cause and how to avoid it in the future.  Whenever I told people I had back pain, they were really sympathetic and often shared a story of their own back pain, or someone they knew, and what they had done to help it.

Now, Peanut's arrival and subsequent havoc has also given me an ailment that is not the kind of thing people swap stories about in polite company, though thanks to the internet I can hear from hundreds of people that share my pain. It's been much worse than the back pain in terms of intensity, duration, ability to heal, and impact on my life.  Apparently 30% of women who give birth will get it, as well as tons of other people, including, very commonly, infants and toddlers.  I have had to make all kinds of dietary and lifestyle changes.  I've been afraid to eat. I've lost 11 pounds in a month. I prefer to sit to use my computer (you too??), and for 4-8 hours a day I can't sit comfortably.  It's a very real pain in the ass.  A total bummer.

I could have left it out of this list but it's been a huge part of my life lately, and I have very bad TMI (that's Too Much Information) sensors.  You wouldn't believe how much I've held back here (unless you really know me, in which case you've been treated to lots of detail, and I thank you very much for listening).

Though I'm pretty sure I will still lie awake regretting it if I do hit publish on this post....  

Shall we just move on to the next reason?


5.  I'm struggling with how open I want to be.  
You won't believe that after reading reason # 4. I don't blame you.  But it's true. I've been questioning how much I want to share of myself and of my family in this public forum.  I feel exposed, knowing that people have read it but not knowing what they read, or what they thought of it.  Distant family members, friends of friends, mothers of friends. I love it that people read it, the positive feedback I get really fulfills me, and I appreciate the sense of deeper connection it brings in my online and face to face relationships.  But it also brings a strange dimension to my life that I'm not fully reconciled with.

I'm new to a small town where I'm trying to make friends, and where my kids will grow up. I feel funny sometimes knowing someone has read my blog and knows so much about me and my family, yet doesn't know me well yet.  It creates an awkward imbalance in a beginning friendship.  And what about my kids and my husband--how much should I be revealing about them? 

On other hand, I also wonder what people who know me think of seeing this side of me on my blog. What I present here is only a part of me.  There is a lot more to some of the stories I tell here, and sometimes friends know this when they read something that I may have wrapped up fairly neatly into one of its components. 

This all makes me question what I write too much, which stops me from writing much at all, ultimately.  I love that when I share something personal, someone may see themselves in that and gain insight, a laugh, a feeling of not being alone.  I love that my family and friends can keep up on my life.  I believe in being honest and open.  But it's really hard sometimes to hit that publish button and reveal myself.


6. I'm wondering about privacy. 
This is related to number 5, but more about personal safety. I didn't give much thought to privacy when I started this. Now I want to do a little more research. Should I be posting pictures of my kids, using my real name, saying where I live, etc?  Do I need to comb over the blog and get rid of some details?  Am I taking a risk? I would love some input into this from anyone who has an opinion, or some information. 

7.  I don't know if blogging fits with counseling.
I'm slowly plotting a return back to very part-time work, doing some private practice. But counselors, ethically, are supposed to avoid "self-disclosure" and "dual relationships".  We are supposed to be separate from the lives of our clients, and them from ours, which provides a certain safety for the client to talk freely. It complicates things for the client if they know too much about me, and can compromise the work we are doing.  So again, I feel that I would have to be very conscious of what I disclose here.  More likely, I couldn't use my real identity here anymore, and maybe I shouldn't, anyway.  I'm still puzzling over what to do about this blog when I go back to work.  Any ideas, fellow counsellor-mamas? Or others?

So, that all being said, I had a lovely moment last week at the local Strong Start where one woman expressed real interest in reading my blog and two others told me how much they enjoyed reading it.  That just lights me up and makes want me continue, so thanks ladies!  But I will still be thinking about numbers 5-7 and may be giving A Mama Being a slight make over.  Maybe changing names to protect the innocent, including myself.  

First Day of Preschool!!

Well, today was the day!  I dropped Boodge off and his preschool, where I found out it was actually 2 hours today, not one like I thought.  As we put on his "inside shoes" I explained (again) that I was going to leave him there and pick him up later.  He said, "My teacher will catch me on the slide!" 
"Yes, your teachers are going to take good care of you."
He went in and: "Mom, they still have the sand table! Look what colour it is!" He planted himself at it and didn't look back.  After two minutes or so it was clear I wasn't needed here and so I went to tell him good-bye. 
"Hey buddy, I found out yet get to stay here two hours today, not just one like I thought."
"Wow!"
"OK, so I'm going to go now, I'll be back to pick you up in two hours."
"OK," not looking up from his play.
"I love you." I kissed him on the cheek, he didn't look up.
"OK."
And that was that.  Choked up and happy and relieved Mama made her way out to Milli-Van.  And now I am home. It's mighty quiet.  I'm so proud of my confident, independent little guy.  I hope these two hours go well enough that he wants to go back so easily next time.  So far so good.  I wonder what the pick up will be like.....

Here are some pictures:

New lunchbox

Warning: Please remove backpack prior to buckling carseat.

That's a mighty big backpack.

Sand table!!!

And that's how we left him.