The Trivial Pursuit of Happiness

It’s hard to think it was a coincidence, after writing this post earlier in the week, that I happened to be in the car late last night and this program come on my local NPR. I’m disappointed that I can’t link you to the actual audio ($7 for the mp3) but even the title of their book (Everyday Blessings: The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting) seemed so in tune with what I had written about that it felt less like chance, and more like a steady hand reminding me that, yes, this is important, do not let it be a passing idea.

It’s so tempting, when faced with the responsibility of parenthood, to let ‘the experts’ make the decisions. To read books, follow the “Five Easy Steps to a Happy Toddler” and when they don’t work, find another expert. What is hard is just being here. To not let the annoyances define our day. To tune into my child and treat them the way I want to be treated (even when they are years and years away from returning the gesture). It’s easy to live in my head as a stay at home parent – to let the drone of “Mama look!” and “Whatzzat?” become background noise. I forget that the greatest gift I can give to my kids (and my husband, and friends) is my time, undivided and fully engaged.

So, that’s where I’ve been. We’re all battling a cold, ( & opted out of two birthday parties, a baby shower and knit club this weekend), so there hasn’t been much activity, just a lot of laying in bed together, reading and snoozing. I’m working on a new yoga bag, the wall hanging, some cloth diaper covers, and have 4 books half read on my bedside table. But mostly, I am just trying to listen, to smile, to be slow to anger and quick to laugh. It sounds so easy, doesn’t it?

(Picture has little-to-nothing to do with the subject, other than to remind myself that my kids crack me up. Also, the view from down here is a lot better than the view from above.)

Since I can never seem to get a full craft post written, how about a quick “What I am working on” post? Alright.

This is going to be a wall hanging (I may even just mat & frame it) for my midwife. I sketched it a few months ago, but finally started cutting & sewing yesterday (while destressing in my craft dungeon). I still have to add a few important things,  but I’m really liking it so far. Can you guess what the idea is? I have to figure out how on earth I am going to make the key piece without it looking corny or clunky, but I want to have this done within the week. Knowing me, if I take longer it will just get shoved in a drawer. I’ll post a final picture soon.

As much as I hate to admit it, the last couple days have been screamy-mom days around here. I’m having a hard time keeping my cool when both girls need me, now that Alice’s “Mother, I could use your assistance shortly” yell has become a “DO IT NOW ASSHOLE!” scream.  My blood pressure automatically rises, and I have found myself carrying Ella to her room more than once, growling under my breath because she asked for milk at the same moment that Alice decided that watching the fish was for akin to torture. Of course Ella gets angry, because OMG not her room with 97363 toys but no milk,  and Alice is still screaming, though now on the boob, demanding that I walk bitch, walk while I eat, and aaaaaa. My head just explodes, and I am doing my best to keep my anger (Anger! gahhhh) from showing, but you can’t hide emotion from a toddler, that is their native tongue.

I know a lot of it is that Alice is going through a growth spurt, or is teething, or something, and is not sleeping worth a crap (I wake up with her 8-12 times a night. FOR REALS.) and I am admittedly kind of a jerk when I am tired.  I also know that a lot of my screamy-mom reactions are preprogrammed – a bit of my mother that I carry around, lurking. I hear the “JUST BE QUIET FOR A MINUTE!” come out of my mouth, and I cringe, knowing how it feels to be yelled at like that. I apologize, I hug, I sit with them and thank God for their tiny perfectness. But it doesn’t erase the look on Ella’s face, or Alice’s stunned silence.

I’m the mom – it’s my job to keep the energy in the house calm and comforting. It’s my job to model how to handle stress, how to negotiate anger, how to talk quietly even when you want to scream. Even if I spend 23 hours and 56 minutes being positive, engaged, and supportive of my girls, that 4 minutes of frustration and anger just cancels it all out.

I hope I acclimate soon.

I’m back on a reading kick (it seems to go reading, crafting, tv watching, & back to reading) and am reading two very different books right now. The first is Trees Make the Best Mobiles: Simple Ways to Raise Your Child in a Complex World by Teich & Bravo, and the other is Julia’s Mother: Life Lessons in the Pediatric ER by Bonadio. On the surface, the books have almost nothing in common – one is a series of short meditations on simplicity and empathy in parenting, while the other is a stark picture of childhood traumas – but both inspired me to set out an old blanket and have a (chilly) Spring picnic with my girls.

Both books come at childhood from very different angles to reach the same conclusion: that these tiny people are people, who, if we let them, can teach us tenacity, patience, hope and acceptance. That, while children are more complex than we often give them credit for, it is their simplicity that we can learn the most from. This isn’t at all revolutionary, but it is something that I need reminded of every so often. It’s the woods for the trees I guess – I am with these girls so much (so.much.) that it is easy to focus in on this  tantrum, this crying jag, this diaper, and miss the big picture of who they are.

I’m of the school of thought that children are closer to the source – call it the soul, call it the Id, call it the Earth’s energy. Children hear an inner voice that doesn’t logic out possibility. They are not embarrassed by joy or anger; they forgive quickly, and will ask for exactly what they need. I don’t think I am overly romantic about childhood – if you live with a two year old and a 3 month old, it’s  hard to be maudlin about a span of time defined by diapers and sleepless nights – but occasionally I can see a moment as an opportunity to reconnect with that source, to slough off the weight of adulthood and sit in the sun, letting the earth spin around us.

But only for a moment, because there are crackers to be unwrapped, swings to be pushed, and small hands to warm between my own.

Ella woke up today and was thrilled that the Easter bunny actually came, and that he brought her SOCKS. Because for all the excesses in clothes my kids have, one thing we are always running short on is socks, especially for Ella. Tom is tall and skinny, and so far Ella is living up to his genes, though I was also the tallest person in my 4th grade class, and the shortest one by 7th grade. So much for my basketball career. Ella has the equivalent of mastiff paws on a chiwawa though, so maybe she will grow into her feet. And it turns out that socks, rolled into themselves, look a lot like eggs, so I can’t be called a complete killjoy.

The Easter bunny DID share a couple chocolate eggs from her stash, which Ella clutched in her (also large and pointy for her age) hands and declared “Chokat!”so maybe she got a few of my genes also.

The plan for today is pretty lazy – Tom has to work all day, and then when he finally gets home, we are heading over to the inlaws to hide eggs and eat. Ella and I are trashing the house with art projects, and cursing the fact that my camera was in the car when Tom left this morning. I’m also trying to edit a bunch of the videos we’ve taken lately, though it’s slow going. Here is a tiny window into life around here:

[vimeo http://vimeo.com/815732]

I’m trying to cull down the girls’ clothes (is it any surprise that they have too many clothes?) and need your help. How many pairs of pants/how many shirts/how many ___ does your child actually need? I am going to put everything but a finite amount of clothes in tubs in the garage for a week or two to see if we actually need any of it, but am having a hard time coming up with a really number for most things. Assuming I do a load of each child’s laundry once a week, what are some round numbers, do you think?

Easter is tomorrow and I am working all day on treats and treasures. I will try to share them soon.

I would like to introduce you all to Rock Bunny.

Sure, to the untrained eye, he looks like an unassuming pebble, but to the keen toddler’s eye, he shows his true form.

We found him on a walk a few days ago, and in that short time, we have gotten to know him quite well. We know he likes to hide under Ella’s bed, and that he can fly (with some help). He prefers rice to salad, and poops in the potty. He gets lost at birthday parties, does not fit in Alice’s ear, and doesn’t like to be in pockets or purses because then he can’t see. Right now, he is sitting on my desk, watching Ella play with “monies!”, and she is teaching him to count “One, twoooo, five, ten”. He may not look like much, but he has charmed me beyond measure.

No, that’s not a rat.

The other day on the question post (which I am slowly working on answers to), my friend Jodie asked “ In a post on a message board you and I are both on, you mentioned wanting to knit something and having your hair cut like the person in the picture…Why? You have such pretty hair.

Oh and being a donut fan, curious what is your favorite donut?”

Don’t you all wish YOU knew Jodie? She’s one of the local women who I’ve really come to think of as friends, and not only because she is generous with compliments (and donuts). The picture she is referring to is this one, and while the final haircut is a bit different, I think if I could stand in shoes that rocking, I would be allllmost as cute. Which isn’t something I’ve felt in a while.

I don’t like to complain about my body, because I know it is ridiculous – Oh noes, poor me, no longer in the single digit pants sizes, I’s sooo fat. I kind of want to smack myself for being so obsessed about my body lately, so I’ve tried to spare you all the whining, and the inevitable compulsion to smack me too. I’m just.. not happy with my body. My flub, my skin, my smell (for reals), my teeth. My hair. This is the longest my hair had been since before I was in high school, and while it was not horrid when I had time to put some effort into it, more often than not I would just put it up in a lazy bun and forget about it until it fell out, or Alice ripped it out. There was just so much of it that straightening it took 30+ minutes and wearing it curly meant a full shower and 65 different hair products. It was just too.much.work.

So? Bye bye hair.

And I love it. I feel lighter, which I technically am. My pants still don’t fit, but hey, I weigh less! Heh. I’m sure in a week I will be looking for the next ‘quick change’ (maybe fix this toast hair color) but for now, I feel pretty, for the first time in a while.

Oh, and maple bars. And scones. And bear claws. And glazed with sprinkles. And cinnamon twists. Mmmmmmmm.

I’m a big believer in the adage “Actions speak louder than words”, and have been looking critically at my own actions lately. What does it say when I spend more time reading blogs than I do reading to my daughters? What does it say when I would rather check my 6 email addresses than call my best friend? What does it say that I have 12 loads of laundry to fold, but I organized my google reader blogs yesterday?

I’m trying to find the balance – there has to be one – but if I am going to err on one side, I want it to be on the side of my girls, my husband, my home. I don’t want this to sound like a “Oh noes, the horrors of the internets” post, because really, I loves this bloggityblogblog way too much to ever condemn it and walk away, but ya’ll, the other day I asked Ella to stop tearing apart the bathroom and come help me cook lunch and she said “Just a minute Mama” in just the right tone, and I thought “Wow. How many times has she heard me say that?”

So, assuming you are reading this on the internet and not a hand written zine printed on recycled paper with soy ink, what are your tricks for balancing life and this ‘hobby’? How do you work this flashy box into your day?

Now if you will excuse me, I have a fort to go play in.

It’s rather telling about my cooking skills that tonight I looked at the dinner I had made Ella and I, and realized “Wow, this is just glorified Ramen noodles.” Sure, the pasta is whole wheat, the broccoli and butter are organic, the egg is free range and the parmesan cheese is actual cheese, but really, this is the exact meal I ate every other night in college. On the other nights? Cheese sandwiches. (I’ll give you one guess what we have for lunch most days.)