About Me

 

 The greatest thing we can do is to show up for our lives and not be ashamed.

 -Anne Lamott

 

I'm a creature of the word, learning to tell my honest story.

I offer it here because telling stories is the road back home.

Motherhood is not a biological designation
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Friday
Jul232010

Ring pops: true love with a 4 year old

I asked Malachi to marry me the other day.

I bought him a ring pop at 7-11, and when he woke up from his nap, I got down on one knee, told him to close his eyes, and then slipped a ring on his biggest finger (which was still too small for a ring pop).

He looked at me with the biggest eyes- a huge grin on his 3 1/2 year old face.

A few days after we got married, he told me he wanted to marry our neighbor- a blond haired woman who just moved here from California.

I told him he was married to me, and that he had to show Gigi (his grandma) the ring.  He said, "Okay mom, but I have to go potty first!"  Figures.  Men and their obsession with the potty.

Tonight I was painting my toenails next to the tub where he was taking a bath.
Let's be honest...I was touching up the paint on my toenails for like the tenth time since I've painted them.
I'm just far enough away from my toes during the day that I can't see how bumpy and lumpy the paint job looks, and I've run out of nail polish remover.
Even if I had nail polish remover, I don't have the time to actually do a good job painting my nails, and all the un-pedicured skin on my cuticle just gets in the way anyhow.

So I was painting my nails and Malachi stood up in the tub and said, "Oh let me see Mommy. Oh that is just so beautiful.  When I get a ring again, I'm going to marry you."  Then he paused and sat back down in the tub, grabbed an empty vitamin bottle (our tub toys) and said, "But I don't have a dress!"

This confirms my suspicion that he equates wearing a pretty dress with getting married.  Whenever I wear dresses or flowy skirts, both of my boys tell me I look beautiful.  I didn't even teach them this!  Best husbands ever! (someday).

Why do men like dresses and flowy skirts?  Why is this feminine and lovely to them?  My boys have blank slates in terms of their likes and dislikes.  Who wrote flowy skirt=beautiful on the slate?  Are there certain inherent male and female attributes imprinted in their genetic code?

Whatever the reason, it makes me feel really really good when my boys tell me I am beautiful.

I'll buy them ring pops any day.

Thursday
Jun032010

Twice as Good: why women, to be happily married, need women


I need to share this song with you.

It goes along with a thought I had last night after blowing up at Michael about how he doesn't understand my sacrificial life, my 24/7 duties...how we often end up on opposite sides of the conflict instead of being partners working together...how we compare our struggles and feel justified that each one is doing more than the other and thus should be lauded and applauded.

How I truly feel that my job is harder.  Harder than his job. Possibly harder than any job that has ever been done before. By anybody. 

I mean, it's possible.

In one breath, I told him we needed to stop comparing ourselves and that my life was harder than his right now, and he should intuitively know that I deserve more care-taking than him.

Wow.

Later that awesome night, I lay in bed nursing (probably sometime around 4 am) and it occurred to me that most women in their first 6 weeks post-partum used to be taken care of by other women- surrounded by similar souls.
The burden of providing understanding, compassion, companionship, was on women- not on a husband.
This is how it's supposed to be, and this is why my husband is not supposed to provide the balm for my heart right now-even if he tries too, even if I want him to.
And yet...neither am I surrounded by sister souls in my house; around my bed; with arms outstretched to hold a crying baby or make lunch for two whining toddlers.

Where are the Titus 2 women?
Where are the women a little farther along in the journey to come alongside?
Where are the older mothers with a little wisdom and perspective to say to me,
"Sister, take a deep breath. Inhale the scent of newborn innocence. Remember that you too, are just a baby.
This job is hard.  This job is life-giving.  This job is a miracle. Let me massage your feet."

If I am wise, I will go to my sisters, not my husband, in this fragile and fleeting season.
This is not less love. This is wise love- we need midwives. Handmaidens. Kindred spirits.
Goofy girl time and cry in your lap mom time.
Silly roll the window down sing at the top of your lungs college roommate road trips
and collapse at the door of your childhood home and need a momma's hug at midnight times.

To best describe this heart, I share with you "Twice as Good" by Sara Groves.

I first heard this song when my new sister-in-law called me up one day to tell me this made her think of our relationship. Is there a higher compliment to be had?

Sister, we need each other.

Thank you for holding my baby daughter in your generous, joyful hands..........

Twice as Good:

when I am down and need to cry till morning
I know just where I am going
when I'm in need of sweet commiseration
to speak out loud

raise a glass to friendship and to knowing
you don't have to go alone
we'll raise our hearts to share each others burdens
on this road

with every burden I have carried
with every joy it's understood
life with you is half as hard
and twice as good

with my good news your dancing on the table
babies born to celebration
the joy of life oh what a sweet communion
shared with you

I know we're growing older
can you imagine what that will bring
it's all a mystery to me now
but this one thing
will be half as hard, and twice as good