last

last time i did nablopomo, i think i spaced on the very last day. i am so glad i decided to go for it this year, albeit the second day, and see it through. i knew i wouldn't let myself down though. mostly i wanted to see if i could still get into the writing groove and write some pieces that i felt good about: make someone laugh, touch someone's heart, push myself sometimes, be lazy other times...(this may be my boring-est yet...i refuse to even capitalize!) BLAH BLAH BLAH i did it! thank you for reading it, readers!!! daily writing is not in my future but strengthening my writing and my identity as a "writer" is. i am excited for that, so stay tuned and i won't let YOU down.

Babes

I doubt I'll end this month with a bang. That's okay by me. Here is all
I have for you today.

Two things stuck out at me today that I put in the category of "things that my
kids said that were hilarious at the time."

First George, came me very grumpily while I was tidying and said with furrowed brow, "Ugh! You made my bed all lovely. I hate it lovely. I like it crappy."

Then tonight pulled a book off of the bookshelf called King Ink by Nick Cave. She said "Nick Cave?? Like Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds?" I said "Yeah, but..." and I was going to say don't read it, but she already opened it. Her eyes got wide, she'd just glanced at one page, and proclaimed "It says 'fuckers' here!! I am reading the word 'fuckers' right now!' I said "I know, that's why I told you not to read it!" and grabbed it back. She excitedly ran off to tell Papa.

Lovers

We named him Depeche when brought him home, but soon discovered why his shelter name was Romeo...this cat loves to hump.

Right away, I needed to be reassured by the vet that he really was fixed, to which they replied, "Absolutely. Spritz some rescue remedy around him for a few days and he'll calm down in time." But he never did and adopted the permanent name of Humper. It wasn't so much a problem, and the children are well trained to shove him away if he comes a-humpin' in the night.

Three years had gone by when we brought home Glinda, a confident, affectionate, and feminine she-kitty. It took six-weeks for them to be able to co-habitate, but I kept assuring Humper that he would like having her around, and it finally clicked. Pretty soon we'd walk into a room and see them getting busy, Humper in position and on a mission, Glinda looking up with bedroom eyes.

These lovers are a daily fixture, and we know now what is about to transpire when they start to nuzzle and kiss each others faces...but only when it's convenient do we give them any privacy. Sweet kitty lovin'!

Simple Sundays: Collective

She is one of us now...owner of her first Apple product...an iPod Touch, paid for by herself at the age of nine...welcome to The Collective, child.

Merry-go-round

I found myself with just George on yesterday's crisp late-November afternoon, with nothing pressing to do. We grabbed a stroller and snacks and walked 9 blocks to a park on the foot of Mount Tabor. I was so delighted when I first saw this playground--the older 70's metal play equipment and each feature--swings, slide, tetter totters, and merry-go-round--are all spaced out over a lovely slope canopied by large trees with golden leaves. The grass is completely covered with a crunchy leafy carpet. I was surprised to see the merry-go-round at all, as they have been removed from every other public park; I think the city might have forgotten about this one.

George was all abuzz and quickly met another little girl just younger than him, named Amia. She started off as the chatty one, but George quickly out chatted her into silence and awe. The adults stood around and exchanged pleasant conversations ourselves, and giggled and smiled at the toddler entertainment. It was a really nice time.

Toward the end, another group had joined us, a new walker who braved the spinning wonder with her mother. George decided to get off and help push, but somehow he tripped and since I wasn't looking, I am not sure exactly what happened, if his foot or shoulder got caught under for a moment. We all glanced over and paused to see if he was okay, and at first he did pop back up and brush off. For a moment, he seemed fine. Just as I was turning back to my conversation, I saw a look pass over his face. His bottom lip came out, his skin whitened, and he began to frantically push his way around the other children toward me. We could all see a great turmoil about to spill over and I knelt down to receive him. When he secured his little arms and legs around me and buried his head in my neck, he let out a deep cry of anguish followed by a gravelly scream, and then melted into sobs. The depth of his emotion took me by surprise and I choked up myself, to be heart to heart with him during this intense release, that seemed unlike his usual reaction. I got the sense that he was not physically hurt, but that he had almost been badly injured and it had rattled him to the core, took him by surprise and also embarrassed him by so swiftly taking away his "leader of the babies" good time he was having.

When he finally spoke, it was a heaving, "Don't let them look at me." I walked him over to a tree in the distance, and he said, "I wish I could climb up in that tree where no one could see me," and I soothed and listened to him. In a minute, his little friend came over to say goodbye and wish him well soon. It was a darling gesture, but he was still too angry to receive, so I thanked her for him and told her I hoped we'd see her again. George eventually recovered, and was soon running down the leafy hill with delight.

While this sounds like a typical play-ground interaction, and there is truth to that, I'll share why it was so profound for me. Over the last year, my little boy has been very explosive, which has never been his typical temperament. Something has seemed troubled in his soul. I know that much of it has to do with my own anger and explosiveness. I have for years been preoccupied with my own pain and dysfunction in my marriage. Then there is the trickle down effect: if Mayan has a problem that she can't process (and she is approaching her adolescence rapidly) she will take it out on Isadore, who will take it out on George....who then will kick the cat. There has been so much upheaval in our lives and while it affects us all, it's the littlest ones that have the hardest time telling us what they are going through. I am finally to a place where my marriage is a source of strength, and feel like I can give the children the focus they deserve and assist in their healing process. Since our ritual the other evening, where we let go of something from the past that didn't serve us (mine centered around my anger) and made space to bring in something more constructive (relating to patience,) I have felt more connected to George, and able to hear him more clearly and offer him what he needs to feel accepted. The reason I was so stunned by the playground scene was that a few months ago, George would have immediately reacted with violence. But instead he knew that from across that platform, I was waiting there to catch him, to hold his feelings, and to be his safe place. I have to honor and maintain that, as being that soft place to fall, I think is the ultimate goal of a mother. I have failed at that time and time again, but I am rebuilding, and the proof was in that moment. Thank you for letting me receive you in your moment of need, and for your redemption. I love you, Georgie Boy!

Discovery

Day 25 and I just discovered the Blogger app. It's a blessing I suppose to find it late in the game, because the convenience will probably produce shorter, more half-assed posts...like this one! (I'll make up for it tomorrow, I promise.)

Sincerely,
Your lazy, leftover-stuffed author

Raise

I was pondering in the shower today, a spectacular place to ponder, because of the peace and quiet and hot water cleansing action. I was thinking about how good it feels to inspire people and I wondered how it is that one gets to a place of inspiration. To go from a divorce lawyers office to a new level of healing and connection, has such a profound change for me that I am I am humbled and dazed by it daily...in every interaction, every conversation, I see the difference. Cue Depeche Mode's Higher Love. This transformation has affected my husband and I in the most immediate layer, then ripples out to our children, and our family and our friends and hopefully continues on. But what make it possible cannot just be one's (or in our case TWO people's) own determination. What my ponderment centered on was the other factor in our success: the support people in our lives. Loving, positive, supportive people were essential, and will continue to be essential forever, in my life, in your life....to conquer whatever comes. "No one does it alone" is not bullshit.

When I look back over my 20's I see that outside of my marital and motherhood work, my most significant progress was fostering the RIGHT kind of relationships. Weeding out the friendships that did me no good, and seeking out and nurturing the one's that challenged me in positive ways and brought me up. Seeking therapy when I needed it was one part of that, and something my family taught me was a normal and healthy thing to do. I have been lucky enough to have a handful of amazing therapists cradle and guide me during my toughest years. I have come to know that friendships are about quality and not quantity, and that in each of my most defined stages of life I have two close friends to confide and celebrate with on a regular basis, and stemming from that a community of women to share with and support when needed or wanted. Finally, identifying and honoring the members of your family who bring you up and not down. This is the most difficult to manage as it seems we all have people in our family who not only caused wounds but tend to poke at them at every turn. Developing boundaries with toxic family members is undoubtedly challenging, and while those people are blood and can assist us in our growth, it's often from the right distance. Truly lucky we are when we have family members who love us, guide us, and support us in ways that only family can. It's a fucking blessing to the core.

So I was envisioning, one by one the people that assisted me and Blake in exceeding our hurdles, in the most critical and painful period of our marriage yet, and having such gratitude for their influence. I was also, admittedly, commending myself for choosing to turn toward the right people. When you are at your most vulnerable, unstable, and defiant state it is very easy to turn toward others that are in the same boat, but sometimes that digs you deeper. It can be scary to turn toward those that know your heart, know your capabilities and weaknesses, your history and patterns...they may say everything you want them to say and they may say everything you don't want to hear. Oddly, it may be both at the same time. The fact is they are, if you let them, helping you get to where you need to go to grow. And if you fumble and fuck up, and start all over from the beginning, they won't judge you for a moment because true family and true friendships don't work like that.

That is the kind of family member and friend I strive to be, and the only way I can be it, is because I've been shown it, time and again. Nothing is more powerful than example. My most desperate advice to anyone who is losing their shit over this thing we call life it is to seek out the RIGHT kind of support, the right kind of friends, the right kind of therapy, the right kind of family. Even if your heart is broken, your gut knows where to go. Fucking listen to it.

This is where I do my shout-outs. No particular order.

George and Gigi, Toby and Patricia, and Payson and Kamla--the married elders in our lives that clearly love us as is, never criticize, and know what it means to stay married.

Breana and Savannah. My ladies who offered endless wisdom, text messaging, hugs, drinks, and couches...friends who I am so assured of their love for me that there was no question to where to turn.

Allison and family. Fucking offered me their home. My foster care who showed me what a traditional-modern marriage looks like in real life, what deep love and commitment is possible even with such different personalities. Never once shoved it down my throat. I was seen so starkly it freaked me out, but my gut knew how safe I was. The gratefulness pours out of me in tears now.

The amazing Anusuya, the counselor/therapist/shaman, who's wisdom runs so deep and knowledge seems to run parallel with every challenge we bring onto the couch. And even if the work we did was our own, we would NOT be together without Anu, period.

Halle also saw me through, with talks that fueled me, gave me clarity, and kept me from crying alone. Her understanding of our history turned my venting in to constructive insights, and her home became a welcome haven when I felt most displaced.

My sister, Naomi. Always her. Sisters get you like no one EVER can.


These are just some of the ones that Raise Me Up. Looking back upon my history with all of these people, I see how they are hidden gifts. I had to love myself enough to see their value, and welcome them in to my life, and hear what they had to say, and also I had to recognize that I was worthy of their love. It feels so incredible to be held in the arms of unconditional support, and now that my life is settling I want to know that I can raise up my arms and carry others along: my children, my extended family, my precious friends, my community members in a way that promotes growth and gratitude. Even better, is that as a team Blake and I can do this side-by-side.