it is what it is

I used to be so angry. I was like a bomb, ready to go off at any sign of life not fulfilling my innate sense of entitlement and when I went off - oh man, I can only imagine what it would have felt like to be on the other end.


That was 10 years ago, since then I have quieted my anger with compassion and perspective. I still get riled up over things, but now they tend to be the things a person should get angry about - world hunger, the systematic poisoning of our planet, green-washing - as opposed to the occasional tomato on my sandwich when I am 100% positive that I requested none.

My life is better. It is nicer, calmer, happier when I stop keeping score and make the sometimes difficult decision to drop the rope and let people worry about themselves. I still prefer to be right, but as my wise old man put it, the trick is to realise that being right doesn't make everyone else wrong.

This isn't how I grew up. My parents were angry for most of my childhood. They'll deny it, but I remember the tantrums, the snide remarks and most of all the feeling that there was no way I could ever be right enough or do well enough. I spent my twenties working through that and will likely spend a lot more time convincing myself that I am capable of more than I feel I am.

I went to the mall the other day to renew my license. I took the opportunity to window-shop, checking out trends in both fashion and marketing, because evil or not, it is a huge part of who I am. Something I also checked out, though somewhat involuntarily, were current trend in public parenting. Basically, I witnessed a whole lot of grown-ups treating a whole lot of kids like shit. I didn't witness any overt abuse, instead I saw parents treating their kids like disobeying puppies. Kicking them with words and looks and loud sighs. As I broadened my scope I saw people all over doing this to others, to partners, to staff, to strangers. And I went one step further and though of my own recent behaviour, came up with a few examples of my being cunty to my kids, to Drew and to the world at large - where did it stem from?

Believe it or not, I am not judging any of the parents I saw - I am a firm believer that it is rare that we can get the whole picture from witnessing an isolated interaction - I reserve judgment for myself. Do I generally treat people well and where could I stand to improve?

Generally, yes, I am a nice person. A little narcissistic and impatient, for sure, but I am a benefit-of-the-doubt type and a see-a-need-fill-a-need type. So where can I improve? It almost always comes down to compassion. Compassion for the person who makes an ignorant remark, compassion for the person shooting me an angry glare, and compassion for myself, a woman who is trying very hard to do right by her kids and who is mothering without a map.

With that compassion I can cut everyone else slack and truly let things go. This gives me the mind-space to look at what I am feeling that is manifesting itself as this bitchiness and what I can I change? Often, reflecting is hard. So hard that I have done as little of it as possible this past year. I do the easy stuff, like ensuring I get enough sleep, eat well, de-clutter, get a little exercise and drink my water - and then I stop. It has been a band-aid solution, but it worked while it worked.

And here I am today. Full of compassion and optimism like I haven't felt in ages. It will take some work and time to train my brain away from negative thinking, but I am ready for the challenge.

the long and winding road

I am pretty psyched to see the end of 2008. It has been a thrilling, incredible year, but there is so much that I would like to put a bit of time ahead of. A chance to get some perspective.

A long-standing project of mine has been to go through our old photographs, delete the crap and then back it all up. I finally made the decision to just get it done last weekend and today I finished. It was fun, especially stumbling on old videos of Sebastian. It was also a lot of work - I can see the upside of going through your photos as soon as you take them off the camera.

The very hardest part, however, was seeing how happy we all looked - even as the wheels started to come off our little family wagon. I am heartened by how resolutely we have stood together. I have renewed faith in myself and in all the choices I have made. It was hard because I don't really remember much of it. A lot of that is because I've been pretty withdrawn. Thankfully, I can change that with some work. Always with the work... heh.

It is pretty late, but I've finally managed to upload a bunch of pictures to flickr:

drowning, not waving/waving, not drowning

I was going to write about a really cool music video we watched last night, but Andrew has left to do laundry and I haven't got a clue where to find it to show you. So, for now enjoy this:


Music video made of paper. Svelte: 'Grind Your Bones' from Svelte on Vimeo.

I feel dull, but I am starting to realise that it isn't true dullness. It is rather the dullness brought by the shock of overwhelm. As though my brain is trying to protect itself by slowing down, as a body submerged in frigid water might. Rather than fight for shore and tire half-way, my best chance is to kick determinedly, but gently, towards dry land, using the current to advantage as best I can.

It isn't something I would need to think about at length, as my limbs became heavy and numb, it would become natural to think in terms of "breathe, kick, stay alert, breathe, kick, stay alert" - just as it has become natural to me now to eat, sleep and breathe. A way to pass through a time of fear and despair, a way to make it back to shore, where the cold currents will quickly blur in memory.

The shock of landing, the comfort of knowing that regardless of what just happened you made it. A time after which life is irrevocably changed, yet strangely just the same. A period of adjustment, fingers stretched out, grasping the familiar, exploring the new.

My period of adjustment is frustratingly ongoing. Lately is has really felt like fate has been mocking my desire for normality. All this anxiety is both invigorating and exhausting. It reminds me that I am alive, that life is amazing and still so unknown, it illuminates my creativity in such a powerful way. It is exhausting for the same reasons - life is amazing and there is so much life on the planet, each of us has so little control over our collective fate, each of us has a unique mind and that is both brilliant and frightening... any number of things could bring about the end of civilization, of life, of the planet, of the universe. Any number of things could happen at any time.

I don't really "believe" in God. That isn't to say there isn't a God, or a few - I just don't believe we can ever understand or speak for God. I certainly don't think there's a bearded guy in the sky passing down judgment and absolution. What I believe in is the first law of thermodynamics - I believe that in all things there is balance. So the end of civilization, of life, of the planet or of the universe would simply be the beginning of something else. Everything we do is a tiny step along some grand process of conversion and change. In depressed times I interpret that as saying that individual and even our collective lives have no meaning. But normally I take it to mean that this opportunity we have, to be alive, to create, to grow spiritually and intellectually, is something that shouldn't be squandered. We are one part of the culmination of a grand event. Our lives are unique in the vast universe. Hitler, Hiroshima, Egypt, Beck, plastic, fashion, Palin, CERN, children, poverty, air-conditioning, cheesecake... all unique, all amazing.

Not one will change the ultimate fate of the universe, just as my ultimate fate would not change if I were to die tomorrow or in 63 years. If I do die tomorrow, that's alright - not that I want to, but if it happened it would happen; if I die at 92, that's alright, too. Either way, it won't matter much that I was correct more times than I was incorrect.

Life is pretty sweet, especially when you have cheesecake. Since the universe might end in a few days, I think I am going to make sure we have some cheesecake for dessert this week.

to work or not to work - that's the question

Noodle at the Aquarium:



I interviewed for a job today, a *real* job in an office and everything... an office I love, with people I like (and a couple I love), doing a job that is almost tailor-made for me... but, it would mean leaving my children in someone else's care, losing most of my freedom, and possibly working myself to overwhelm and then resenting my job and/or my kids.

It also would mean a bit more money - but most of that would be needed to off-set childcare costs... but, the job would be cool and get me some experience outside of retail while I'm still relatively young (as in <35; not that I think 35 is old, but when all you have on your resume at 35 is a series of retail positions, I think it is much more difficult to break into something deeper). Plus, it is a temporary position (maternity leave), so at the end of it I will get laid off and will have worked the 600 hours necessary to claim EI, so I could get a little money when I go back to being an at-home mom.

But, I have this nagging feeling that it isn't the right move. I really want to get my store off the ground (which is starting to sound like "my band is about to make it big," and I really don't want to miss any of this time with my children. A woman on the bus was telling me stories today about when her adult children were wee, and she got all misty and sentimental. Her final words were "Cherish their youth, they grow up too fast." Which struck me as strange since I was on my way to a job interview. Yes, I am one of those people who sees signs everywhere, and while I have no logical reason to turn down the position, all the signs I see tell me to....

But then what? I'll be mighty miserable if I keep on like this - with all the frustration and resentment, caught in my inertia, feeling like a downtrodden housewife. And, if I have already decided I could work if I wanted to, does that mean I could work on what I wanted to? Maybe I don't have someone watch my kids every day, but instead trade sitting time, or beg my friends and family to watch the kids regularly, or barter some kind of deal with someone that takes into account that we really don't have any money to spare. Any ideas??

Sorry for the blather, folks, lots a-stewing up in the ol' noggin.

be the change

This mothering thing is hard. One minutes you think you've got it and then something happens and the rules of the game change.

I, for my part, have been hard at work on myself. I have learned so much in this past short while, my son and daughter are excellent teachers.

I apologise for my recent internet absence, I don't know when or if I will return to "blogging" nor do I know what it will look like when/if I do. I do know that right now is a really amazing and changing time for me, full of glorious highs and difficult lows.

This has been a really incredible month - an incredibly challenging and rewarding month. It is with great sadness that I say farewell to my therapy group. I have been blessed to share a special connection with five other amazing women. It is with great joy that I begin to reconnect with my friends and my life outside of the house. Even the friends who think (erroneously) that time spent with them is nothing more than a drain because of the challenges they're facing.

I am learning so much right now, I get the sense that I am shedding my skin and becoming something more. All my past, all my mistakes and trials have led me to this spot - I am beginning to forgive and understand, not just in my mind, but in my soul. I am also beginning to see more clearly what my role as parent really is (guide), as opposed to what I think it is supposed to be (trainer).

There is still so much to learn, but the path is long and I have time. Knowing who I want to be and where I want to be is only a small part of this, I can't believe it took me until now to see that. The larger part is being the person I want to be. Acting with integrity and faith in myself.

Who knew it was so simple? Who knew it could be so hard?

check out what we've been up to lately on flickr

am I a writer?

small boy asks sleepily, "What are you doing Mama?"
"Writing," I reply.
"But why, Mama?"
"Because that's what Mama does, baby, Mama writes."
"Oh, I get it," the precocious little guy says, though his tone tells me he isn't quite sure.

Is there a difference between merely wanting to be a writer and actually being one? Do I need readers to be a writer?

Maybe I need a thesaurus.