one day at a time.
Finding rhythm each day has proven to be a challange with three. I repel schedule and routine, but rhythm is something that keeps all of us interested, aware and present. There was only a handful of places or things the two girls and I would attempt to do outside the house in AZ; picnics at parks when the weather was cool enough. When is was scortching hot, lazy mornings at the coffee joint that bled into cozy afternoons spent next door reading endless books at the library (which probably, besides people, is the most missed ‘thing’ about AZ. Scottsdale Library is truly phenomenal). Besides being in a new place, and having a new kid, and living in a delicate and sometimes pretty dark state of mind post-partum, I have been rhythmless. I haven’t been able to figure out anthing yet. I need time to heal, process, and ease into this new life, but it’s been wearing on me, getting old, this not knowing what to do or how to get dressed. I’m getting sick of being bound by this state of indifference to sadness, frustration to anger. It’s time to crack open the paralyzing armor, or at least poke out from underneath the covers.
Today’s was good. Mia to school. The rest of us walk 3 miles to a park. Play. Walk back. Pick Mia up. Fast trip home (insist girls all wait in the car), grab no-prep to-go lunch. Head to the beach for a picnic of apples, strawberries, cheese and raw cashews. Walk to the bookstore. Cookies and tea and browse through books. Home. Play. Pull out stuff for dinner. Wait for B to get home to make dinner. Make life easy and wear Z the whole entire time, except for daiper changes. Breath. Laugh. PLay music. Watch the moon get bigger. Bath. Sing The Beatles Blackbird 5 times. Bed. Today was good. No dizzy spells or anxiety. No stuffing my face in a couch cushion and cry/screaming. No sobbing phone calls to husband or friends or sisters. No wishing my life away. No yelling. Living and trying to function so close to a birth is fragile. In our tribeless (literal) state of a culture, I honor my hard times, my depression and overwhelming moments. And I celebrate when I can slide back into my comfortable skin, the mask I know intimately and I really enjoy wearing. Happy and Mellow. Balanced and carefree. Flexible and gentle. Strong and energized, maybe even a little hyper. Silly. Dancy. Singy. I got there today. It felt fantastic and it was just normal. Me. Today I felt what it’s like to dive in and enjoy being a mother again, because the past month has been a stuggle to see the light, no matter what there have been days where I felt like a stranger in my own body, my own life. One day at a time.
*
Mia cut her hair again. When one is preoccupied with a newborn one will sometimes give a suspecious four year old kid craft scissors and paper and glue for fun and entertainment and then not really pay attention to what they are doing and go do a load of laundry (okay given her history -or histories- perhaps there is no real excuse for not watching her like a hawk).
Her short side:
Her long side:
People ar very impressed with her sense of style. I request they don’t encourage it. Really. I like the cut, too, sorta mod meets Johnny Scissorhands. But please. Don’t encourage it.
Punk Rock Warrior and Berry Eater:
Much love and light to you. Here is hoping you have many more days like today.
Comment by gearhead mama — March 20, 2008 @ 3:24 pm
Now that is an interesting haircut! I know what you mean about not encouraging it. Ama cut her hair awhile back. There was a delicate balance I had to walk… not making a big deal out of it, making sure she knew that i dont want her to do that, she looks beautiful no matter what….. The funny thing is, hers looked sooo good, I never bothered with taking her in for a ‘restyle’!
Hugs,
Comment by leslie — March 20, 2008 @ 3:41 pm
Becoming a mother of three (and at the same time a driver of a mini-van) can really throw a girl off her game. But please keep putting one insane foot in front of the other. And keep writing about the every day stuff just so you won’t forget because it may be a blur someday when you come out the other side of this crazy newness.
Feeling more sane by the day…Karen
Comment by Karen — March 20, 2008 @ 5:31 pm
Your day sounded heavenly to me. Read my blog, and you will know that I am there too, all too often lately. Sometimes I wish to pack us up and move anywhere outside of this part of the country; the endless wet winters are insane. If spring doesn’t come soon, I might hole up and cry for a day straight. And we are looking at snow tonight. I gasp. Isn’t it funny how the weather really dictates our moods? Hugs to you, MB. Three kids is awesome; I watch my girl play with her brothers now and it’s magic. It is perfect, really. But the day-to-day: yes, it’s very tiring. Things grow monotonous so, so fast. I am reading a book called “The Power of Now” and it is changing my world. I read a few lines ever few hours, fuel to get into the moment and out of anything other than the present. My inner-monologue has been very negative for me in recent months. Must let of of her…I adore you, and I wish we lived anywhere close - we’d be fast friends, and we’d ride this one together, drinking tea and talking a lot. You’d get my butt into the yoga I so desperately need and I’d call you up and say, “Go take that class!” while I watch your kids. BTW, can you get back into it? Sounds like that would be so great for you
. Enjoy your new land; it looks beautiful there. Write again soon, and e-mail if you ever want to ‘talk’ more -
Comment by Joanna — March 20, 2008 @ 7:16 pm
Mia did a good job of summing up all sides of the matter. Little by little is excruciating, but it’s the only way. Love.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — March 21, 2008 @ 3:56 am
~ Listen; there’s a hell of a good universe next door: let’s go.
ee cummings
(saw this, thought this today!)
I must say I love the hair. When I see her I will try my best to say not a word. Part of me bets you see it copied in the weeks to come.
And those words of Karens are so still and sublime.
I look forward to that meeting.
Comment by crystine — March 21, 2008 @ 4:23 am
Love to you. One day is all we have every morning, so yes, one. day. at. a . time.
Big hugs.
Comment by Janis — March 21, 2008 @ 4:53 pm
each time i visit this space, i am so blown away by your beautiful honesty and rawness. i love it. i am totally inspired by it and it stay with me long after i leave the page. thank you so much for that.
i wish i could express just how deeply i understand so much of your place right now. i wish i could express how much i would love to be a part of your tribe and hold you in loving kindness…and really, i do…so i guess that we could dream up some kind of skewed, disfunctional, slightly connective tribe across the internet….because i already feel connected here and i already hold you in loving kindness.
and, it is really too bad that you had to leave AZ because that is where i live…and i agree about the scottsdale library, it is quite phenomenal…i loved those giant chess tables in the kid section (we used to live close to that library but don’t anymore).
on the other hand…what is more alive then a visit to the ocean? i hope it was lovely beyond measure and that it brought a little bit of restoration to your soul.
much love…happy spring.
Comment by jessamyn — March 22, 2008 @ 12:07 am