Washed away.

Too many days drifting, and I start to feel washed away. Need to *do* something, *accomplish* something, have some time for me. I've been alternately cranky and patient with the boys, and with AD. We have had some nice time lying in the back yard looking at the trees & the sky, reading books about alligators, pirates, nutrition - we love the library.

Today I accomplished something - two loads of laundry helped to wash away my day, as well as some weeding. We have some beautiful vining toxic weeds in our garden, that I decided were too hazardous to health of the wee ones, as well as to the other plants in the garden. We also did the requisite shopping in preparation for the school year, although we didn't buy any pants, since R & I couldn't agree on the size. (He insists he should wear his age, which would have him stylishly tripping over the pant legs and wearing them out too soon to pass along. You see the trouble.)

Why does this not feel like enough?

Stained glass class is over for 3 weeks now, and despite best intentions, I have not kept dates with myself to keep working on my own.

I feel ill at ease. In the evening I have become a surfer instead of a drifter, riding the internet waves, speeding away from the discomfort, but not getting anywhere. I search for a cure, but I am not broken. Discomfort is okay. Hunger is okay. Sadness is okay. Anger is okay. I don't need to cure myself for feeling the full spectrum of human emotion. Like all emotions, these also come and go. I am okay.

When I stop the thrill ride and accept my thoughts and feelings for what they are, they lose their power. The swells diminish. The pendulum slows and returns to center. Centered, I carry on.

Drifting away

Like the codas below, I find myself drifting away. I drift where life leads, and spend less and less time in front of the computer. Partly, we moved the computer into the office, leaving it somewhat inaccessible to me while AD is working. More than that, however, I'm just living, as best I can, right now. My life goes from breathtaking to infuriating and back a thousand times a day:

I delight as I watch V gleefully bounce in his jumper, listen to E's imaginative description of the world he lives in, and survey R's increasingly unusual whiteboard art. I sigh when I'm covered in baby poop, again, or find more to clean up from another source. I roll my eyes when I discover the window screen ripped to shreds, and NOT by the cats. Then we go out to the beach for a picnic, and E is disappointed that we can't plant the roasted sunflower seeds I brought with us for a snack. What a beautiful thought, to plant flowers on the beach. V is crawling, like an inchworm, which makes it difficult to keep him from eating sand or other things he shouldn't. He seems to know the difference between baby food and people food, and has decided he deserves the latter. And he is still a "spitter". R seems so mature sometimes, outgrowing childish refusal to utter the name of an animal he doesn't like, then must make a game of everything to take twice as long keep from getting bored. And E ... well, "no" is the first two letters of his middle name. In our house, we get "terrible threes".

And that's just the boys. AD's mom visited us last week, so we took her to visit the city and the lake and the state fair, we had a family dinner, and a date (woowee! first adults-only movie at the theater since ???), and a couple nice evenings getting to know the neighbors. Busy, yes, but not too busy to hear that AD will be much busier soon. As will we all. First grade starts for R in just three weeks.

In the midst of this wonder, this exhaustion, this joy, this laundry, this aching body, I sometimes think about writing, but life goes too fast and the moment passes me by, leaving only these remnants as evidence that I have a brain:

Titles for Almost Posts:

Suddenly six months (about V)

First Tooth (now second)

One Year Ago (what started our move)

Where I've been and where I'm going

Art Glass (work in progress)

and without a title, pictures pictures pictures.

Sometimes I worry about not "getting anything done", when we don't manage to get out of the house all day, but what's the point? I make a goal to get out of the house the next day and see how it goes. I can only be where I am.

Right now, I am not much here. I could worry about that, but I think I'll just take things day by day and see how it goes. I invite you to do the same.

Where does it come from?

I swear, now I have guilt about not feeling guilty about the right things.

I feel guilty for rather suddenly abandoning my job/coworkers/boss (although I'm sure they know there is a risk any time someone goes on maternity leave).

I feel guilty for deciding not to send the Painter to the (understaffed by our assessment and rather unappealing in any case) next school over for the remainder of his kindergarten year.

But shouldn't I feel guilty about things like not spending enough time with the boys, or not giving them all the best experiences, or buying all the best toys, or not using re-usable diapers? Ok, I do feel guilty about the last one. And, I guess I also feel guilty for dragging the Painter all over the world in his short life so that he has yet to develop any real friendships or have a birthday party with friends. That's close enough. Crisis averted.

Begone, guilt! You're not welcome here anymore.

So, now that I am in charge of educating my children, anyone have any tips, hints, ideas, or any clue what they are doing in teaching a kindergartener at home?

One Step at a Time

It's been a week and a half since the movers delivered our life-in-a-truck. Time since then has been consumed with opening boxes. Sometimes we find long-forgotten treasures, or desired objects in unexpected places. Other times we find trash, or items due for unshopping.

Our house is starting to feel a sense of order, but there are still so many things to do:

• AD finished the taxes yesterday and we happily will be receiving a refund.
• Today, we successfully hosted a family birthday party for the Painter.
• The plumber came yesterday to run a gas line to the dryer, and we have almost scaled the mountain of laundry that had grown since our arrival.
• My computer was shipped back to my former employer, but I still need to send my badge and office key.
• The health of our momma cat is up and down, and we may need to take her to the vet again in the next few days.
• Received new cat ID tags in the mail, but still need to mail the applications for city licenses.
• Need a never-ending list of miscellaneous items - bath tub stopper, litter scoop, dish drainer, recycling bags, kitchen pantry, bedroom curtains, bathroom shelf, ...
• Still need to enroll the Painter in kindergarten for the remainder of the year. (I don't feel up to the task of home schooling right now.)
• New car tags and drivers licenses
• Make sure friends and family all have our new address and phone number - maybe even write some letters.

So many things leaves chaos in my mind. In the midst of it, I am easily frustrated with the boys. "Just let me finish this one thing ..." which of course isn't just one thing but fifty.

But what's important? Did we come here to set up a household? Well, yes, but that's not why we came.

Tomorrow I will try to remember to breathe, attend to the boys, and step through the list one foot at a time.

Be yourself.

These words are inscribed on the title page of my copy of Momma Zen, but until recently, I just didn't get it. Of course I should be myself, but who am I?

What I am starting to realize, in my better moments, is that I don't have to complicate my life with labels. I don't have to fix myself. I don't have to find a new direction, or find any direction.

All I need, to be myself, is just to be: free, afraid, joyful, sad, peaceful, angry, awake, exhausted, creative, drained, engineering, nurturing, blogging, loving, changing, the same, many voices, all one, breathing, heart beating, me.

Thank you all for reminding me.

Happy Birthday to Me

Thirty-six years ago today, I was born. In honor of my birthday, I am participating in the LTMD Group writing project. It has taken me all week to come up with these rules or I might have posted sooner. But, better late than never ...

The Law According to Me
or, "10 Eclectic Rules to Live by in the order that they occurred to me"

1. Stop & smell the roses. Although it may be cliche, this is one of my favorites. I love roses. I love the fragrance of roses. I try to always stop and smell the roses (and lavender and rosemary, etc.) and in so doing, remember to appreciate the beauty in life.

2. The minivan is not a mini Cooper. It's always bigger than you think it is. Corollary: it's not any cooler with those scratches on the bumpers.

4. Communicate, part I. No one can read your mind. For that matter, no one can read my mind. So if you have something to say, just say it.

3. Communicate, part II. Yelling is not talking. Whining is not talking. One "very" is enough. I can't understand when you talk with your mouth full. I can't translate meow-ish or woof-ish or Painter-ish or Inventor-ish. If you want mommy to answer you, then please speak calmly in English.

5. Make love not war. This one is tough to manage even in the microcosm of our own household, but as the benefits are great, it is worth trying.

6. Take time to reflect. Really. If I did this more often, writing down ten rules to live by might come more easily.

7. Write. In your blog or your journal, or in letters to friends, or a poem. Writing helps me connect with my emotions, to understand my feelings; I get lost much more easily when I neglect to write.

8. Turn off the TV. This is second nature in our household by now. We have a wonderful wide-screen flat-panel TV that gets, on average, an hour of use each day. Poor thing probably feels neglected.

9. Get out of the house. There are always things to do around the house, but you'll be happier if you get out and away from the usual distractions.

10. Celebrate life. On your birthday and everyday. Celebrations don't need to be extravagant to be beautiful. Life is a wonderful journey. See rule #1.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference


Robert Frost

I repeat myself

Am I doing a dis-service to myself and society by choosing to opt-out of the full-time workforce? Am I really choosing to do so, or is my choice so constrained by societal norms that I don't even see it?

What are my constraints? The commute that makes it impractical to stop home and see the boys during the day. Available, but limited telecommuting. My energy, which waxes and wanes on a random schedule because of the pregnancy hormones. Then, there's a a household to run. Oh, I'm by no means doing this alone, but there are some details which seem to busy me more frequently, as mom, than anyone else in the house: Holidays are coming - what gifts should we get? When should we have our celebrations? What should we eat? When should we get the groceries? The Inventor's 3-year checkup needs to be scheduled. So do dentist appointments for the boys. And we need to get things for the school food drive.

More insidiously, I wonder if things are being done the way I would do them, if I were at home. How have we gone through so many paper towels and so much laundry detergent in the past few months? Are the boys getting adequate stimulation while I am at work? Is the Inventor learning his letters? Is the Painter getting enough intellectual challenges to supplement kindergarten (which is socially, but not mentally challenging for this one)? Are the boys missing out because D doesn't drive and can't take them as many places as I think I would? Fortunately I don't wonder about these things too much. But I suppose they do affect my thinking when I consider whether I would rather work or stay home.

But beyond the constraints, I think taking some time off to be "just a mom" is my excuse to be me. Societally, raising kids is generally seen as an accepted (although under-compensated) alternative to working, whereas quitting to "find oneself" is seen in a much less favorable light. I say "societally" but these attitudes are apparently well-ingrained in my mind, as well.

Still, I repeat myself. I have twice before left my career with no intention to return. Once was several years before the Painter was born, and once when he was not quite one-year old. I have some idea what it will be like to be home with the boys, although three will certainly be different than one. And I also know that just as I left twice before, I returned twice before. I repeat myself.

I fear that rather than finding new paths, I will lose myself in mothering as much or more than I am lost right now. I fear that I will regret leaving my job at a place others only dream of working. I fear that my mind will atrophy. I fear that leaving my income now will limit our lifestyle and future choices. I fear that moving closer to family, I will miss the mild winters in this part of the country.

But does any of that really matter? I am drawn right now towards freedom and away from the daily grind. I am drawn towards the beauty that my boys bring to my life. I am drawn to the connections of family. I am drawn to explore my dreams, to create, to live consciously. I choose now to listen to my thoughts and dreams and inspirations, and when the opportunity arises, take incremental steps to make them come true.

It's okay that I repeat myself. I have done what seemed right at the moment and I will continue to do so.

On better days, I notice the world

I stop to inhale the perfumed fragrance of lavender roses outside the office.

I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin.

I look up and with my eyes I trace the barely discernible outline of the mountains through the thick haze.

I hear big band jazz playing at the store, and my feet start to move in time.

I bring back a beautifully contrasting bouquet of red roses and miniature purple and yellow iris.

I feel hunger rumbling in my stomach and savor my lunch.

I feel the baby moving in my belly and I :)

Lucky I only fear the worst

These scary stories and Lillian's Very Bad News have me thinking about how lucky I am.

I have a job that pays the bills (even though rent is $2000/month) and subsidizes health care premiums for the whole family. We can afford quality child care (and I highly recommend the au pair program as an affordable means of child care, especially if you have more than one child needing care). Although there is no paid maternity leave, I am eligible for short-term disability pay for approximately the first six weeks after the baby is born, and I live in one of the very few states with paid family leave.

Nonetheless, I am contemplating leaving all of this behind. No - I have decided to leave, although I give myself permission to change my mind. I am afraid of what may await me when I leave my career behind, both personally and financially. But I am also drawn to spend more time with my boys, so that I can learn again the lesson that Articulate Dad and I used to practice, "Live each day as though it were your first, with the wide-open, wondering eyes of a child."

Articulate has recently applied for a very interesting interdisciplinary academic post, and we are keeping our fingers crossed that it will work out. Of course, I want it to work out because it could be very personally rewarding and satisfying for A.D. But I also have selfish motivations in that it would ease my fears, and make it easier to explain why I am leaving work. But what if he doesn't get the position? Is it irresponsible of me (us) to leave my job, this source of stability and security?

I want the freedom to choose my life, but I fear that my choices will not yield the results I expect, that I may end up in a scary story of my own making.

I would do better to remember that security is an illusion, and that all things in life are temporary. In the recent California fires, all we suffered was some bad air quality, but certainly a lot of people learned a lesson in the impermanence of all things.

Fear is a part of life. But I can let go of my fear, and trust that everything will turn out all right.

Exploring New Cities (Virtually)

"After explaining themselves to befuddled family and friends, they packed up and moved across the country."

Having decided to do the same, it is nice to know we are not alone. The "explaining ... to befuddled family and friends" is one of the things that makes it difficult to go. Not only do we have our own fear of how we will sustain ourselves to deal with, but also the fear that no one else will understand.

I have added some lists to the sidebar: what we are looking for in a place to live, and possibilities we are currently considering. I put them in the sidebar so I can look at them often, edit as needed, and feel like we are making progress in this endeavor. In steering a new course for our lives, it is more productive to set our sights on our destination than focus on why we're leaving this place we've started from.

Articulate thinks it may be more difficult to live near family than elsewhere, because, in seeing family more often, we will have that much more explaining to do. But I think that if we are confident in our course it won't matter how often we are interrogated. As with the same kinds of questions from our children, we can explain until we run out of patience, and continue nonetheless to do what we feel is best.

Love-Hate Relationship

It's becoming clear to me that I don't really have a love-hate relationship with my work so much as I have an apathetic relationship to my work. I like the pay, the adult interaction, the recognition from co-workers and my boss, that I feel competent and respected. The work mostly bores me. The projects are cool, but they don't drive me. Nothing about the work seems to really excite my passions, although they used to, when I first started this career. Now ... my passions lie elsewhere.

This became more clear to me last week, while I listened to a news report about a road-rage drag-racing incident, in which some innocent bystanders in a parked car were struck, and a 5-year-old boy killed. Of course, this hit very close to home, because the Painter is 5 years old. I thought to myself, "Life is too precious to waste doing something I don't want to be doing." And, "We need to get out of this place." Not that bad things only happen here - I know they can happen anywhere - but why stay in a place we don't really like, when the only thing keeping us here is a job I don't really like?

Remember This

What is Success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chautauqua

I've loved the word, and the concept, of chautauqua ever since I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance more than 10 years ago. To me, there is something very romantic about the idea of escaping into the wilderness on my own, to face my bewildering thoughts head-on, with no distractions, to empty my mind and, I imagine, return feeling centered, refreshed, and with a renewed understanding of who I am and what is important to me.

I just discovered that chautauqua doesn't, generally speaking, mean what I thought it meant - Merriam-Webster online defines it as ": any of various traveling shows and local assemblies that flourished in the United States in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, that provided popular education combined with entertainment in the form of lectures, concerts, and plays, and that were modeled after activities at the Chautauqua Institution of western New York." I suppose, in ZAMM, Robert Pirsig (the author) was referring to meeting with & learning about yourself?

Perhaps what I crave is meditation, more than chautauqua, but the word isn't nearly as interesting. I think it's time I scheduled a chautauqua (of the ZAMM variety) for myself.