Yucky

i am not going to use caps. just to warn you. the left shift button has been successfully removed by my one year old and i just don’t feel like dealing with the right shift. it takes me off my train of thought.
today is a really thick, sticky, yucky day. honestly, the last few days have been the same. well, maybe it’s been creeping in for about a week now. i was blaming it on my period but now that i’m on the third day of it, with no sign of relief, i’m not so sure i can use that reason.
i have been feeling “up” for months now so i’m not sure what happened. to start, i need to just let out the superficial stuff that is irritating me: i need a yard, i want to live on the ground floor, i want to plant and dig and i want my babes to get dirty with our own dirt, not some park dirt that is mixed with dirty straws, popsicle sticks and other people. i want my own. i feel so stuck and isolated in this apartment. i want privacy but i want to be outside. i want to be outside without anyone else watching me or any rules to follow. i need mother earth. i crave her.
i don’t know how to be a mama when i feel like this. i can’t connect to myself, let alone my babies. i dont know how to meet them and to hold space for tantrums and upsets, to nourish their bodies, and be creative with play. it’s all too much for me right now. i feel overwhelmed. satya had a febrile seizure two weeks ago and that experience lives in a tight little bubble of stress above my stomach. roseola is going around right now and we might have been exposed and that is adding air to that bubble. i am so scared that she’ll get a fever and i’ll have to watch her little body seize again. i hate that. i feel her forehead 37 times a day. after that horrible experience we were so fragile that we gave her the prescription antibiotics for some minor infection she had. i hate that, too. i never gave aiyana antibiotics, and of course i would if either kid really needed it, but i don’t think this was that situation. some part of my traumatized self probably thought that it would make the seizure better. and now she has a horrible diaper rash because her system got all out of whack. and there is no one here for me to go see or to get help from. they are all so conventional. i feel weak. i haven’t forgiven myself for that. maybe somewhere, too, i blame myself that she had a seizure. my body made her and something went wrong. the thermostat in her brain isn’t working right. thank god its not a lifelong thing. i just have to make it thru 4 more years! i feel helpless.
i’m lonely. there are not many people in the world who can bring comfort and witness me entirely in my yuckiness and meet me there and hold me until i melt. there are a few, thank god. am i supposed to be able to pull myself out of this alone? is that the goal? aren’t we made to live in herds? there are few animals who live alone. i’m not one of them. i need my people. they nourish me, inspire me and bring purpose to my smiles. i want to live on a farm where there is so much freedom, so much earth, so much purpose and i want to be surrounded by my people and gather often, learn to sew together, drum, dance, bathe, paint, cook ,eat, sing. it’s all so much richer in group. my voice just doesn’t sound that great alone. i cant instill in my children the kind of purpose i want life to have alone. i need my village. where is my village?
i’m not even sure i really like having a maid. she has taken part of my job away, which is good but now what am i supposed to do? sad, i know. there must be a million things to do besides cleaning and laundry. and yes, there are but in the waldorf philosophy much of the daily activities with the young child are based around the tasks of the homemaker. the little ones mimic your work and physically work beside you. play and crafts are added to the day but cannot be the main part. maybe i’m spending too much close attention to them. i need to do busy things close to them so they see me hard at work. so i guess, projects or things that i like to do. what do i like to do? write, read, draw. ahhhhh. i feel like i am always self- analyzing and telling myself where i need to be better and what needs to change. its tiring. do other people just live without so much inner dialog? i want to be ok with myself and just be in peace and love and act accordingly. why is that so hard for me? see, there it is again! and again! b r e a t h e
my hair is half grey, really at least 1/3. its sad and scary. my boobs sag. i have to wash under them now. yeah. not cool. i could go on but its making me feel sad. i dont really want to pick on myself physically on a blog. that hurts my feelings.
today i told my 3 year old that mama feels yucky in her body and i’m cranky and i don’t feel alot of love in my body. she told me that our dog oso will give me some love. that felt good. not to look to the dog for love but to be honest with her and not pretend that i’m a perfect, happy, energetic mama.
ok, gotta shower before we go off to our play group.

Mama Who?

Some days i feel like i am disappearing, slowly melting away without a trace of who i was before. I am simply “mama”. It’s not that i mind the name. I actually prefer it to my old name but i just wonder what will become of me once i am not so all-consumed with my girls. If i dive deeply now will i remember to come up for air or even know that i need air? I love, love, love sinking into my mama role. I love feeling like i am doing the best i can to give these babes a strong, loving, rich foundation on which to build the rest of their lives. Even though, that feeling is actually rare, it is my goal. I work really hard at it and give myself over to trying. I do feel the strong desire to be more self- expressive and to have a deep inner practice. My practice is in giving and i do alot of creative work and play with aiyana to try to satisfy my own needs but i think that it is merely pacifying the true craving that is much more private than crayons or playdough can reveal.
So, i am giving up the goals i have set before because i realized that i am not there. i am not moved by those things for more than a day so if i do those things, great but what’s more important for me right now is to ask myself some revealing questions and write, write, write. Not do, do , do. I do all day long. I want to begin something else right now. Something that sets the tone for everything else that i am a part of in my life. I want to flesh out this other part of me so that my mama role can be that much richer. So, no goals yet. Just a shallow pot of simmering liquid sitting uncovered waiting to boil.

It's How You See It

I am currently living on the 8th floor of the “Royal Princess” right on the water. I love having the ocean right outside my window but i’m not a big fan of apartment living. The earth seems so far away. My bare feet cannot touch the dirt without ALOT of effort. I miss my garden at home. I miss keeping my sliding back door open and letting my babe wander into her yard exploring the elements. Here we have to get shoes on, walk out the door, get on the elevator, walk thru the parking garage, say “buenas” to the nice guards and walk a few blocks to the park to get our outdoor time. I had to breathe in and out consciously to keep a panic attack at bay during our first few days here. I felt like a jungle animal thrown in a closet. Not good. Not to compare the circumstances of the holocaust to life in Panama but the movie “Life is Beautiful” kept coming to my mind. I feel like i have to keep a certain level of joy in my voice and actions so as not to alarm my girls of my discontent. i have to show them that new experiences can be met with enthusiasm and curiosity. And the only way to give them that is to show them, to be the model. I can do that. I have done it, actually. I have come out the other end of my miserable tunnel quite unscathed and surprisingly glad to have been through it.