Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
10/10/12
9/2/10
Late night musings of an eternal mamma
I give her little face a kiss and she tucks her head into the crook of my neck. I smell like a mama, she smells strongly of bubbles and strawberries, a result of her affinity to sneaking the soap bar when she's fully clean and my hastiness to pull the tub stopper as the water gets chilly.
I knelt by the tub tonight, watching her soap her own toes and firmly refusing to brush her teeth. I swept a washcloth behind her ears, under her curvy chin, and wondered: how long she will need me yet? As I scooped water into the palm of my hand to rinse the day away, I glimpsed a bigger girl with memories and stories to spill out, with an eagerness and lightness of her father's and a the voice of a dreamer like me. Her hair swirled down around the top of her neck in a way I had never seen it do before, tracing rivulets down her spine and joining the bath again. My heart whispered: will I always know her this well?
The night is long at times, spent shuffling (those ever growing) little feet back under the blankets and getting up for water, worrying over my two dearest loves as they sleep, as if they were both my children, and I suppose in a very primal way they are. Both are sound in my nest all night, tucked around one another and oblivious to this mama's dually committed heart thrumming away, wanting to hold them both at once.
I fear her growing because I'm terrified I haven't got it down. I want longer to get it right before she will know that I am misguided, before she sees my faults. Eventually I'm sure she will recognize me as a pawn. I don't know the rules. I don't know the steps, I can't dance this fast and in these shoes.
As I scooped her from the tub and she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, we went in search of pajamas for the night. Pulling from the basket nearest me, I found my fingers wrapped around a tiny set of pajamas too small for any girl of mine. These were hers nearly two winters ago, just as we were seated deep in worry about our future, cold and jobless with no hope or vision for that to change, when there were too many hours each day spent sitting in classrooms waiting to graduate so I could hold my daughter whenever I pleased; hoping that my classmates didn't see my breasts leaking, at times wondering that they did not smell my fear that this route they celebrated with joy I counted as hell and yearned for it to end.
Darker hours in the shivering winter spent fighting with Pappa because my heart was never in school again, I could spare it all just to be a mamma. These were the pajamas she wore the morning we drove to the polls to vote for idealistic "Change," and the morning my sweet friend Jessy came to visit after her weekly Chemo battering. She smiled and yet looked faint, she sang to my wee babe about teething gums while I worried about my girl, who had immediately fixed herself on this splendid friend to investigate her thoroughly- I hope that my own girl will be as open-minded, loving and generous each step of the way as this beautiful young woman I am blessed to know.
This instinct to protect is not exclusive to the faces we see and love each day. It is not limited to the hands we hold or gently scold, and the tiny feet that pitter-patter and sometimes "THRUMP!" around, making tangible progress and marking the traits that will be theirs for life right before our eyes. It is for the children we don't get to hold, the ones we were ourselves, the ones we see on the television while their mother's wail. These children, these little sparks that flash for only a moment, that always have to face the cold with empty tummies, they are why my heart is breaking for my own. I stood in front of my mother when I was seven and told her I wanted to save all of the orphans, and asked her why we didn't try to help. Her reasoning was complicated and altogether simple at the same moment, yet her theory fell deaf to my ears and I am sure that day I stopped believing in universal love.
This is the joy called motherhood, I share it with many strong and willing women now, and before me. Surely more will come after me as well. Some bear a multitude of souls into the world and some never kiss a single tear frosted cheek, but all have willing, loving, open hearts. We swap tips and laughs and fears. We all dream big, and none of us wants our children to resist our open arms. This is the joy called motherhood. It is the voice of universal love.
Do something kind for another person today. Do it for your heart, and mine, which needs reminding that humanity is always embraced by mothers.
I knelt by the tub tonight, watching her soap her own toes and firmly refusing to brush her teeth. I swept a washcloth behind her ears, under her curvy chin, and wondered: how long she will need me yet? As I scooped water into the palm of my hand to rinse the day away, I glimpsed a bigger girl with memories and stories to spill out, with an eagerness and lightness of her father's and a the voice of a dreamer like me. Her hair swirled down around the top of her neck in a way I had never seen it do before, tracing rivulets down her spine and joining the bath again. My heart whispered: will I always know her this well?
The night is long at times, spent shuffling (those ever growing) little feet back under the blankets and getting up for water, worrying over my two dearest loves as they sleep, as if they were both my children, and I suppose in a very primal way they are. Both are sound in my nest all night, tucked around one another and oblivious to this mama's dually committed heart thrumming away, wanting to hold them both at once.
I fear her growing because I'm terrified I haven't got it down. I want longer to get it right before she will know that I am misguided, before she sees my faults. Eventually I'm sure she will recognize me as a pawn. I don't know the rules. I don't know the steps, I can't dance this fast and in these shoes.
As I scooped her from the tub and she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, we went in search of pajamas for the night. Pulling from the basket nearest me, I found my fingers wrapped around a tiny set of pajamas too small for any girl of mine. These were hers nearly two winters ago, just as we were seated deep in worry about our future, cold and jobless with no hope or vision for that to change, when there were too many hours each day spent sitting in classrooms waiting to graduate so I could hold my daughter whenever I pleased; hoping that my classmates didn't see my breasts leaking, at times wondering that they did not smell my fear that this route they celebrated with joy I counted as hell and yearned for it to end.
Darker hours in the shivering winter spent fighting with Pappa because my heart was never in school again, I could spare it all just to be a mamma. These were the pajamas she wore the morning we drove to the polls to vote for idealistic "Change," and the morning my sweet friend Jessy came to visit after her weekly Chemo battering. She smiled and yet looked faint, she sang to my wee babe about teething gums while I worried about my girl, who had immediately fixed herself on this splendid friend to investigate her thoroughly- I hope that my own girl will be as open-minded, loving and generous each step of the way as this beautiful young woman I am blessed to know.
This instinct to protect is not exclusive to the faces we see and love each day. It is not limited to the hands we hold or gently scold, and the tiny feet that pitter-patter and sometimes "THRUMP!" around, making tangible progress and marking the traits that will be theirs for life right before our eyes. It is for the children we don't get to hold, the ones we were ourselves, the ones we see on the television while their mother's wail. These children, these little sparks that flash for only a moment, that always have to face the cold with empty tummies, they are why my heart is breaking for my own. I stood in front of my mother when I was seven and told her I wanted to save all of the orphans, and asked her why we didn't try to help. Her reasoning was complicated and altogether simple at the same moment, yet her theory fell deaf to my ears and I am sure that day I stopped believing in universal love.
This is the joy called motherhood, I share it with many strong and willing women now, and before me. Surely more will come after me as well. Some bear a multitude of souls into the world and some never kiss a single tear frosted cheek, but all have willing, loving, open hearts. We swap tips and laughs and fears. We all dream big, and none of us wants our children to resist our open arms. This is the joy called motherhood. It is the voice of universal love.
Do something kind for another person today. Do it for your heart, and mine, which needs reminding that humanity is always embraced by mothers.
4/19/10
Blog Hugs, or "Blugs!"
Mama Christina from Diary of a Mom gave me a bloggy award! I am so flattered as it's my first!
The rules are:
One: Tell us about a memorable hug you’ve had. It can be a person, pet, whatever…
Two: “Hug” at least one other blogger or as many as you like.
Part One:
Wow, this is very hard for me. As many people know, I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely or lovey-dovey, and I have to remind myself to give physical affection, even to Pappa Starbucks. He, however, is very very much a hugger and is always asking for them and so is Little Berry. I think this will be a good exercise for me to write about hugging though since I've been trying to work giving them more....eagerly?
On my 20th birthday, Pappa Starbucks and I were meeting for breakfast. We were in college, we knew each other fairly well but were not involved. He was gushy-mushy-lovey-dovey-always-grinning around me and I knew he liked me a lot. One of the reasons I was at that point hesitating to date him was actually because of how exuberantly affectionate he was.
I got up that morning, showered and dressed in my favorite button down plaid shirt that my best friend always picked on me for wearing (good naturedly of course) and fixed a bowl of very crunchy granola to take to breakfast even though we were meeting in front of chic-fil-a (he's vegetarian and I didn't eat meat in front of him for a very long time) so I wouldn't be chowing down on a chicken biscuit while he ate his frosted flakes or oatmeal.
It was a chilly and frosty-aired morning, and I walked from my dorm to the cafeteria to meet this silly guy- trying to make sure my hair wasn't all frizzy from the sweater I was wearing, and generally wanting to look good but not have anyone know I was TRYING. It was, after all, my BIRTHDAY.
He met me inside the cafeteria with a cheerful grin and leaned in to hug me- "Happy Birthday!" he said. He smelled like Tide and toothpaste and I realized I had flutters- genuine nervous butterfly flutters in my stomach at that moment, and I knew we'd be together for a long long time.
And we've been together ever since!
Part Two:
I hug Ittybits and Pieces, The Milk Maid, Erin, Milk Donor Mama, and last but never least, my Friend Monica!
The rules are:
One: Tell us about a memorable hug you’ve had. It can be a person, pet, whatever…Two: “Hug” at least one other blogger or as many as you like.
Part One:
Wow, this is very hard for me. As many people know, I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely or lovey-dovey, and I have to remind myself to give physical affection, even to Pappa Starbucks. He, however, is very very much a hugger and is always asking for them and so is Little Berry. I think this will be a good exercise for me to write about hugging though since I've been trying to work giving them more....eagerly?
On my 20th birthday, Pappa Starbucks and I were meeting for breakfast. We were in college, we knew each other fairly well but were not involved. He was gushy-mushy-lovey-dovey-always-grinning around me and I knew he liked me a lot. One of the reasons I was at that point hesitating to date him was actually because of how exuberantly affectionate he was.
I got up that morning, showered and dressed in my favorite button down plaid shirt that my best friend always picked on me for wearing (good naturedly of course) and fixed a bowl of very crunchy granola to take to breakfast even though we were meeting in front of chic-fil-a (he's vegetarian and I didn't eat meat in front of him for a very long time) so I wouldn't be chowing down on a chicken biscuit while he ate his frosted flakes or oatmeal.
It was a chilly and frosty-aired morning, and I walked from my dorm to the cafeteria to meet this silly guy- trying to make sure my hair wasn't all frizzy from the sweater I was wearing, and generally wanting to look good but not have anyone know I was TRYING. It was, after all, my BIRTHDAY.
He met me inside the cafeteria with a cheerful grin and leaned in to hug me- "Happy Birthday!" he said. He smelled like Tide and toothpaste and I realized I had flutters- genuine nervous butterfly flutters in my stomach at that moment, and I knew we'd be together for a long long time.
And we've been together ever since!
Part Two:
I hug Ittybits and Pieces, The Milk Maid, Erin, Milk Donor Mama, and last but never least, my Friend Monica!
8/24/09
A genuine breastfeeding baby doll:
A friend of mine just came back from NYC and stayed with us for a few days before starting back to college. She and I were talking about my renewed desire to nurse until Little Berry weans herself- whenever that may be, something Pappa Starbucks is horribly against but don't get me started.
Anyway, she mentioned this doll she had seen in the city. I give you the new hip doll
that I am buying at least one of my nieces for Christmas, if only because they aren't allowed to sit in the room (seriously) while I nurse.
That teensy part on the box is a flower that ties on and the baby latches onto (magnetically I suppose):
What strikes me as funny is that Cuppycake already does this with her babies, brings them to me and tucks them in my shirt, that is. The flower part seems like it could cause some confusion. And God help those girls who will grow up thinking those first days of nursing will be "that" easy.
Photos snatched from Google images
Anyway, she mentioned this doll she had seen in the city. I give you the new hip doll
that I am buying at least one of my nieces for Christmas, if only because they aren't allowed to sit in the room (seriously) while I nurse.
That teensy part on the box is a flower that ties on and the baby latches onto (magnetically I suppose):
What strikes me as funny is that Cuppycake already does this with her babies, brings them to me and tucks them in my shirt, that is. The flower part seems like it could cause some confusion. And God help those girls who will grow up thinking those first days of nursing will be "that" easy.
Photos snatched from Google images
2/20/09
A survey because I am still feeling like a warthog
What are your middle names?
Mine is Elizabeth. He doesn't have one. Therefore, our daughter has two middle names to make up for his mother's oversight in that department.
How long have you been together?
Almost three years. Three!
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
Mmmm...about six months, though he spent that six months asking me out almost daily. Weekly at least.
Who asked whom out?
He asked me. See above :)
How old are each of you?
I'm old, he's not AS old. Just kidding. We're both 23, there's a period of about 70 days though where I am older.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
His, definitely. She's 7 and lives about 15 minutes away so we babysit her rather regularly. Which is why I plan to move away (FAR!!)from here before she turns 14.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Definitely my desire to stay home with Little Berry instead of entering the job force. Yeah, I know. I'm a prick.
Did you go to the same school?
Still do. Met at one school, and together transferred to our current institution. In fact, if it weren't for a particular literature class that SOMEONE didn't want to take, we never would have met at all.
Are you from the same home town?
No. Way.
He doesn't count mine as a "town" but as ehm, "the STICKS." HE grew up in Ithaca New York. Oh yes, he's northerner.
Who is smarter?
Wellllllll...... you're a presumptuous little survey aren't ya! What makes you think either of us are smart?
I'd say that together we make an excellent team and alone we are just average, although our grades and achievements say differently at times.
Who is the most sensitive?
Mrm, next question!
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Too many places! I prefer this AMAZING place called Lime and Basil on Franklin Street (yes, the Franklin Street) and he likes California Pizza Kitchen and The Cheesecake Factory.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
I guess Maryland? But we got a travel scholarship that's paying for us to go to Ireland this spring. So does that count?
Who has the worst temper?
Meeeeeeee. Let's just say that hormones are taking the fall for a LOT these days.
Who does the cooking?
Both of us, but rarely together. He always cleans the kitchen before he starts cooking, this makes no sense to me and I do it after.
Who is the neat-freak?
Again,both. He's great at keeping papers organized. I can't stand if the clothes are folded wrong. And yes, there is a wrong way to fold a towel/tee shirt/ onesie. He insists that any other woman would be grateful for a man who even TRIED and to that I say "fine, but I don't see you with that other woman, so the sleeves go IN."
Who is more stubborn?
Pshaw. I can't even answer this because we. are. both. stubborn. to a fault.
Who hogs the bed?
Pappa Starbucks, and Little Berry. They both take up a lot more space than babies (and skinny people) should be allowed to take.
Who wakes up earlier?
Me. Gawd, I love mornings. He looooves the snooze button. In fact, he has never gotten up to the (first) buzz of the alarm clock since we have been together. Maybe the third.
Where was your first date?
Asheville....
He took me to Malaprops :) and it rained. All in one day.
Who is more jealous?
Hm, I dunno. I get very jealous of the energy his mother requires from him. He is definitely a Mamma's boy.
How long did it take to get serious?
It was serious from the get-go. Once I realized I liked him, I knew he was the one. But I should have gotten to know his mother better first. Did I already say that?
Who eats more?
I eat more FOOD. But he easily consumes more calories. Have you seen that man's starbuck's drink? HELLO. It's got more calories than a family in Cambodia consumes in a month.
((Triple (or quad, depending upon JUST how tired he is) Venti Breve Milk Black and White Mocha, WITH Whip)).
Who does the laundry?
Mmmmme. Except the whites, because I cannot pour bleach without spilling it. I kid you not.
Who's better with the computer?
Him. He's so smart it's disgusting, and he's always telling me to do this or that and makes sure my laptop is charged. Isn't that sweet?
Who drives when you are together?
HIM! But only 'cause I have to be ready at the little lady's demanding for entertainment and such. You'd be amazed, but I can nurse while she's in the car seat. Talk about convenient!
Mine is Elizabeth. He doesn't have one. Therefore, our daughter has two middle names to make up for his mother's oversight in that department.
How long have you been together?
Almost three years. Three!
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
Mmmm...about six months, though he spent that six months asking me out almost daily. Weekly at least.
Who asked whom out?
He asked me. See above :)
How old are each of you?
I'm old, he's not AS old. Just kidding. We're both 23, there's a period of about 70 days though where I am older.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
His, definitely. She's 7 and lives about 15 minutes away so we babysit her rather regularly. Which is why I plan to move away (FAR!!)from here before she turns 14.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Definitely my desire to stay home with Little Berry instead of entering the job force. Yeah, I know. I'm a prick.
Did you go to the same school?
Still do. Met at one school, and together transferred to our current institution. In fact, if it weren't for a particular literature class that SOMEONE didn't want to take, we never would have met at all.
Are you from the same home town?
No. Way.
He doesn't count mine as a "town" but as ehm, "the STICKS." HE grew up in Ithaca New York. Oh yes, he's northerner.
Who is smarter?
Wellllllll...... you're a presumptuous little survey aren't ya! What makes you think either of us are smart?
I'd say that together we make an excellent team and alone we are just average, although our grades and achievements say differently at times.
Who is the most sensitive?
Mrm, next question!
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Too many places! I prefer this AMAZING place called Lime and Basil on Franklin Street (yes, the Franklin Street) and he likes California Pizza Kitchen and The Cheesecake Factory.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
I guess Maryland? But we got a travel scholarship that's paying for us to go to Ireland this spring. So does that count?
Who has the worst temper?
Meeeeeeee. Let's just say that hormones are taking the fall for a LOT these days.
Who does the cooking?
Both of us, but rarely together. He always cleans the kitchen before he starts cooking, this makes no sense to me and I do it after.
Who is the neat-freak?
Again,both. He's great at keeping papers organized. I can't stand if the clothes are folded wrong. And yes, there is a wrong way to fold a towel/tee shirt/ onesie. He insists that any other woman would be grateful for a man who even TRIED and to that I say "fine, but I don't see you with that other woman, so the sleeves go IN."
Who is more stubborn?
Pshaw. I can't even answer this because we. are. both. stubborn. to a fault.
Who hogs the bed?
Pappa Starbucks, and Little Berry. They both take up a lot more space than babies (and skinny people) should be allowed to take.
Who wakes up earlier?
Me. Gawd, I love mornings. He looooves the snooze button. In fact, he has never gotten up to the (first) buzz of the alarm clock since we have been together. Maybe the third.
Where was your first date?
Asheville....
He took me to Malaprops :) and it rained. All in one day.
Who is more jealous?
Hm, I dunno. I get very jealous of the energy his mother requires from him. He is definitely a Mamma's boy.
How long did it take to get serious?
It was serious from the get-go. Once I realized I liked him, I knew he was the one. But I should have gotten to know his mother better first. Did I already say that?
Who eats more?
I eat more FOOD. But he easily consumes more calories. Have you seen that man's starbuck's drink? HELLO. It's got more calories than a family in Cambodia consumes in a month.
((Triple (or quad, depending upon JUST how tired he is) Venti Breve Milk Black and White Mocha, WITH Whip)).
Who does the laundry?
Mmmmme. Except the whites, because I cannot pour bleach without spilling it. I kid you not.
Who's better with the computer?
Him. He's so smart it's disgusting, and he's always telling me to do this or that and makes sure my laptop is charged. Isn't that sweet?
Who drives when you are together?
HIM! But only 'cause I have to be ready at the little lady's demanding for entertainment and such. You'd be amazed, but I can nurse while she's in the car seat. Talk about convenient!
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