growing curious

tomatoes and crackers

We got the tomatoes in.  If they all grow successfully, we'll be loaded.  We planted more than twenty plants in three rows, and we're going to use the Florida Weave method to stake them.  This lets us plant them closer together yet have room to work with the vines as they grow.

I'm not sure what's going on, but every time we have a big work day in the garden, I can't sleep at night because my legs ache so much.  I was up until 3am last night and then woke up at 6-something this morning to get going on the morning chores.  This sort of exhaustion can take me to the bad place pretty quickly.

I meant to share this photo last week.  Because E really enjoyed her cooking class at the rec center and did more complicated cooking there than she normally does at our house, we realized that she could do more in our kitchen if she wasn't always perched on a stool.  D built her a table/butcher block for the middle of the kitchen -- at just the right height for her.  This is a picture from our last cracker-making adventure.  It worked perfectly and gave her much more control.

I have lots more to say, but I'm too exhausted to write more.  I better just cave in and go rest and let her watch cartoons.  Me = bad mother.

easter

oats

I keep thinking about a hazy, ephemeral time when E was an infant, and we would spend cozy afternoons in D's savior of an old Barcalounger.  (I hated that chair and couldn't believe that he insisted on moving it to our new house, but it saved me during that hard pregnancy and her early infancy.)

E would nurse, and I would relax, and then she would sleep.  I would have the TV on sometimes -- old episodes of Sesame Street or Oprah (if she wasn't talking about anything too intense).

E and I were enveloped in a cloud of hormones and tiredness.  I struggled so much at the beginning.  It was so hard for me to lose myself so completely.  I still haven't "recovered" from that flood of feelings that just washed most of me away.

I remember that I had milk supply problems early on and then learned that eating oats helped me a lot. So I began to eat a couple of oatmeal cookies in the afternoons while she nursed.  It was so quiet.  Then she would fall asleep, and I would think about how weird and wild it all was that this little babe was on my belly, and we were sitting in the ugly chair.  D wouldn't be home for another couple of hours, and when he got home, he wouldn't expect much because he knew how worn out I was.

Time just drifted.  I dozed.  I loved the oats and the sweetness.

I think I was a nicer person back then.

conversation about a zit

I have a really painful cyst-like pimple between my nose and upper lip, right in the middle where things are most sensitive.  I think this might be the most painful place for zits to be, and they come to this place frequently for me.  I also have another one right now on the ridge of my chin -- another hard place.

E was very concerned when she saw it this morning.  "What is that, Mommy?"

"It's a pimple."

"What's a pimple?"

"It's an owie on someone's face."

"Is there blood?" 

"Sometimes, but this one isn't bleeding yet.  It might, though."

"Why do people get pimples?"

"Well, there are sort of two reasons people get pimples.  Some pimples happen when people are just beginning to be young grown-ups, and that's something we can't control.  It just happens as our bodies change and we become more grown up -- like J's age.  Other pimples happen when we're worried about things, and that is what this one is from."

"When I grow up, I won't get pimples."

"Well, if you eat broccoli, spinach and carrots and all your chicken or tofu, you will do the best you can to prevent the sort of pimples that come as you grow up.  So you keep working hard on eating good food, and that will help."

"But I won't worry, Mommy.  I won't worry like you do."

"I hope that's so, sweet one."

"If I have worries, I will put them on a shelf inside me and keep them there so that they don't come out!"

"Ahh...  but my idea with the worries is that I try to change my worries into something happy and good, but sometimes the worries get stuck in the middle of changing, and they land on my face as pimples.  I really think it's smart to try to let worries come out into the air."

"But I don't want pimples."

"I know...  Mommy doesn't either."

playing blocks

You wouldn't believe all that has gone on in my heart since I last wrote here.  Maybe you would?

Even small encounters are full of meaning.  Life is HUGE and overwhelming.  Symbolism and symmetry are everywhere I look.

I'll try to share little bursts over the next couple of days, but here's a little something:

This picture of E playing blocks is proof that I am a different parent than my parents were/are.  You can't see everything that's happening in the sub- and meta-text of this photo so let me explain...

I love my therapist.  She's known me for more than 25 years.  She can sink into a small detail -- like E playing blocks -- and understand all of the levels on which it might reverberate for me.

For comic relief, I sometimes stop in the middle of a hard session and tell her something cool about E.

I did this the other day and mentioned how great E was at staying focused while we made Valentine's cards for each of her classmates. It took two days, and there were lots of stages to the project, and she got tired of it, but she understood that each and every classmate would appreciate a card.  So she kept at it.

After she finished, we went on a celebratory walk, and we told one another stories.  That’s what we do.  We go on walks and take turns telling stories that we make up on the spot.  It’s pretty fun.

When we came home, I said, “I’m really proud of you for doing all those Valentines, and I want to thank you for the fun walk, but now Momma needs to go do a few things by myself before dinner.”

She said, “Okay…  I’ll play blocks by myself for awhile.”  And she did for almost AN HOUR!  She created a neighborhood with houses and tall apartment buildings and a road and bridges and stuff.  It was the most elaborate block play she's every done.

I was thrilled that she was so focused and that she did her own thing for so long.

After D got home, she asked me, “Will you not put away my blocks tonight?”

I said, “Okay…  I won’t put away your blocks tonight, and we can play with them more tomorrow, but Thursday night I’ll have to put them away so that we can begin cleaning up the house for your uncle and cousin's visit.”  She agreed.

The next morning she was THRILLED to find her blocks still out.  It seemed to relax and affirm her.  She practically praised me because she was so happy to have her wish honored.

So I told all of this to my therapist and said, “See…  I’m trying to be a different mom than I had.”

And K said, “No, Cathy…  you *are* a different mom than you had.” 

 

I hadn’t ever thought that before. 

 

I always say to myself that I am *trying* like it’s some excruciating thing I’m trying to do and must be failing at.  But here was evidence:  a productive, content child.  Not only that, she had enough self-possession to verbalize her wish that the blocks stay out, and she was able to negotiate with me on a reasonable time when things would get cleaned up, and she understood why that was important.  I honored her, and she honored me. 

K said, “You are a good mom to Ellie, and you already are a very different parent than the ones you had.  It’s not something you need to *try* to do.  You are.  You are making your way.”

I felt very relieved, happy.  I don’t “see” myself in a positive way when I think of myself as a mother.  But if I can turn this around and look at my life clearly, there’s some stuff to be proud of, and maybe it would be possible for me to ENJOY being a mom.  A radical thought.

 

realistic math

E's fourth birthday + being parent helper at her school (12 three- and four-year olds!) + my dad in the hospital again + worry for my mother + wolf-sized coyote living down by the creek for the last two days (our dog befriended it somehow) + birthday cake meltdowns = cathy is toast.

4 years.

not okay...

I'm feeling sad and lost.  My dad is dying.  My kid needs way more of me than I have to give.  My husband tries to turn up the volume and drown me out because he doesn't like the way I close off and take time to myself after E goes to sleep.

All I do here is clean up snot, poop, pee, and dirt. Tonight during dinner, little E said, "Woman, give me more milk."  We spent some time explaining how her wording was not nice, but -- really -- that is my function for her.

I am so tired of this life of cleaning, cooking, paying attention to every little thing.  I need another fucking weekend at the coast.  Or I need my family to go away.  All of them.  Is it so wrong for a 44-year-old stay-at-home-mom to a preschooler to go absolutely ape-shit once in awhile over these soul-sucking constraints?

When I most need help reclaiming my esteem here, I find it impossible because of the kid.  If it were just me and D, I'd beat him to a pulp and then take what's coming to me.  Having E there always changes what he and I can work through together.

I love E.  I love D. I love me, but I hate my life right now.  Maybe when the garden goes again I'll feel better, but I think something is not quite right. 

insomnia

We've been working with E on how to deal with herself, by herself, when she's having a hard time dropping off to sleep.  She has a Fisher-Price MP3 player so we ask her to listen to the stories and songs on that if she doesn't feel like sleeping.

She went to bed at 7pm, and now it's 11pm. All this time, she's been listening to Van Morrison, Joni Mitchell, Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby (hold-overs from Christmas).  She's still hyped up and wired.

Once she asked if she could wake up now.  Once she went potty.  Now she's in talking with D and arguing with him about music.  She is not quite four.

a snowcave in portland

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We got a lot of snow here at 500 feet -- more than a foot, and then there were gnarley snow drifts.

D made a "plow" out of big broomheads that he attached to his tractor.  He used this to push the snow up into banks, and this snow cave happened in the bank of snow closest to our front door. 

D is a really, really great dad.

In case you can't see these photos, here is the blow-by-blow:

• picture #1: E entering the mouth of the snowcave.  (E is wearing a rainbow wool hat, purple vest and purple snow boots... she contrasts sharply with the snow.)

• picture #2:  E scraping away the sides of the cave with a garden tool.

• picture #3: E peeking out of a window at the back of the cave.

• picture #4:  she's made the window larger.

• picture #5:  she's made the window large enough so that you can see most of her smile.

• picture #6:  she's smoothing the walls of the cave on the way out.

• picture #7: leaving the cave.

why i'm a mess: in chapters

I just got back from a craft workshop at my daughter's school.  I liked it a lot, but I felt awkward there and sometimes I just really hate being an older mom to a young kid.

I've kept so much inside during the last month, during the last several months, during most of my life.

I used to get in trouble for sharing too much with the wrong people so I just have tried to keep it all inside.

But it doesn't stay inside neatly when I start to feel it all.  And I'm raw all over right now because of my cousin's passing and other family weirdness.  I feel as though I expressed myself weirdly tonight with the other parents in the craft workshop.  I feel exposed in a bad way.

Best part of today:  E and I did our longest hike ever -- from the Arboretum's visitor center to the Winter Garden and then down to the Japanese Garden (which was closed until noon because it was Monday).  Then we hiked back up the hill to the car, stopping briefly at a big tree stump that E wanted to climb and sit upon.  We were walking for 90 minutes or more so I guess we did 4 miles or so?

Another good thing:  the new batch of sauerkraut is bubbling in the crock.  I used the same general recipe as before with kale and apples, but I added some sweet onion this time.  It affirms me when I hear the bubbles rise -- that means what needs to happen is happening.

happy

I am happy because...

• Yesterday I talked with a new mom friend for an hour while our kids were busy, and we had time to find some common ground (including the fact that we both took great classes from a particular professor).

• Last night I spent three hours knitting with four other nice women.  I laughed really hard and realized I'm not a freak.  I am having a normal experience being a parent.

• The sauerkraut crock is coming.  D, E and I will be able to ward off scurvy and keep our intestinal flora happy while the economy tanks. 

• There are 75 pounds or more of green tomatoes on rotting vines that must be dealt with this weekend.  Ideas?  I was sad for a month that our tomato harvest didn't happen. Now I'm done with being sad and am ready to do something fun with the green ones.

• It rained an autumn-in-a-rainforest sort of rain this afternoon, and I loved being able to put E down for her nap while it fell.

• I really, really like the other families at E's preschool.  I like the kids.  I like the parents.  I like the teacher. Every part of it is good -- except for my angst when it's my turn to be parent helper (but there is plenty of fun and joy in that, despite that angst).  It's so good to be sure of something on this parenting journey.

• It's almost a weekend.

• I'm collecting some annoying baby things (plastic!) like plates and cups and things and moving them out of the kitchen before I decide how to donate them.

• I have been moving my small collection of fun cookie cutters to the now-empty drawer (jackrabbit, house, sheep) because they're getting used more these days. 

• I cleaned the laundry room and two bathrooms this week.

• I went outside to pick a few stray greens and found three ripe figs to bring in.

Life is good.