raw. beauty.exhaustion.
This month.
I can’t write. I can barely form words. I smell like a mix of B.O., espresso, and hot buttered popcorn (breastmilk poo). It takes me 2 hours to leave the house. I lock myself out. I forget diapers for one of the two in them. My shirt is on not only backwards but inside out as well. My kids teeth have not been brushed in 24 hours. Mine in 48. I have exactly 3 pairs of pants that fit. My hands look like my mothers, veiny and wrinkly. Let’s not talk about my eyes. When I don’t take my placenta pills things start to spiral out of control, just like when I forget my oils, my vitamins, food and water. When I do remember to eat and drink and encapsulate pills for a fews days, my life is good. Beauitful. Raw beauty. Stripped down to the center of all existance I have to tap at the neverending flow: Love. Because in the end, the driving force behind all this; the procreation, the manifestation, the isolation, the exhaustion, the challanging path of mother/child communication, is love. It’s all for the love.
Days are still fragile. We all transition and allow moments of melt-down, hysteria, silliness, saddness and heaps of hour long group snuggles on the floor. Chocolate chips and small cups of whip cream and sprinkles help, too. One moment at a time, I breath.
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My newest daughter’s name is Zaida Dove, as we annouced over a month ago. Since then it’s changed about 3 times. Echo Dove. Zaida Echo. Zadie Echo Dove. And finally, again, Zaida Dove and Zadie for fun. I have never had a baby whose name was so mysterious.
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Four and 1/2 might be the most fucked up age besides 21.
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Zaida is sensitive to Soy and Dairy and I can’t eat either.
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My house has never been such a mess. There are smashed blueberries from last week still on the kitchen floor. The baby’s room has turned into the Closet Room. Looking for clean clothes? Go in there and dig through the pile on the floor. We haven’t had TP in 2 days. Sula is out of diapers, not because she is ready, but because I keep forgetting to buy them for her.
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I AM NOT a bad mom because I stopped using cloth diapers on the baby last week. I am not. I refuse to feel the guilt. The laundry was fucking drowning me. Period. I’ll go back. I always do.
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I have found a wrap way better than the Moby and I never thought I’d say that. Don’t know the brand. It was a gift. Go here (www.lyonmom.blogsome.com) and ask her because she’s responsible for my new obsession. I want one in every color.
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One top of it all, we’re trying to search the surrounding 30 mile radius to buy a house on some land. I drive around in the mountains alot looking and listening to Kanye West while Sula screams for Joan Jett. It’s an ongoing argument. Her and I both get stuck on one sound and we just don’t budge. Luckily I have control of the IPOD. Nothing against Joan Jett. I mean, I’d be the mother of her kids if she’d only ask me. But I’d also do the same for Kanye, and he’s so damn literary. Hot.
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It’s official. I’m a mom. I drive a caravan. My beloved Subaru is no longer mine. I know own a seven seater/14 cup holder silver bullet of can. That thing can go fast. Kinda impressed after I got over the fact I drive a minivan.
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Washington State is insanely beautiful and I feel so blessed to be here. It is my home away from Om. And if I can figure it out, I plan on changing the subtitle to this blog from Constantly Searching For That Perfect Space to Creating Space or something like that. When I was out walking along the water yesterday I thought of the perfect line to change it to and now it’s gone, a glimpse of a thought.
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I am trying to create another blog which I hope can help lift me up and bring me wellness, a blog that chronicals my postnatal yoga (instead of focusing on the PPD, I am hoping to focus on what really works in lifting me out of tightness and into Space. It will include video, daily yoga lessons and lots of fun chanting along with my writing. The only problem is I have no time to make another blog. Or really practice yoga. So if anyone wants to make the blog and watch my kids while I practice…that would be sweet. Oh and someone to film me too. And maybe lend me a digi cam. Great. Thanks.
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I am truly falling asleep at the keys right now. All in all this past month has been heavy, raw, overwhelming, and so perfect. Just perfect. When all else gets to me, I just tap into that love, or try to. Picking up the baby and breathing her in, accepting the force that she so freely offers and hoping to give to her as well is where I find the strength to keep it going on.
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no time or energy to spell check.
Some photos of the past couple weeks….
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sisters…
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presence
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dont ya cut off mi dreadlocks…
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self portrait because i thought it was a good day…
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