Kindnessgirl

If you are going to have to take your 10 day old into the hospital for rapid breathing here are the things to be so thankful for…

a mother who happens to be visiting at the moment and someone who your children absolutely adore, which means no worries at home

a sister who writes a post for you even though she is pregnant, sick and exhausted

a dear friend who happens to work at the very unit you are sent to and calls ahead to make sure you get rock star treatment

getting a very cool doctor who takes the least invasive approach and calms your every fear

getting another very cool doctor who works the night shift and hangs out to shoot the shit with you while you talk extensively about birth

another sister who reminds you it’s okay to cry

dear friends who fill your phone with text messages of light and hope

coming home to the yummiest meal from the kindest friend who always gives all of her heart

yet another sister who you can discuss all things medical with, her nursing mind giving you the 411- no holds barred

people who pray and light candles

very kind nurses who are hopeful and positive, and treat your baby like a person

a deeper love for your own bed and home

a wise friend who brings you yummy tofu and shrinks you through the experience

finding out you don’t have to stay the full 72 hours as first told

a relief to find your baby girl is just fine and all is well with her health

a very tired mama who is happy that feeling exhausted is the only thing she has to worry about tonight

There are times when I wish my kids had cell phones so I could call them on the way to school and say, “Ughh…I’m sorry I was such an ass this morning.” Like I do with my husband. I just sent Jack off for the day almost crying over Jack just being Jackie-boy.

Slow, incredibly slow, blissfully unaware, totally living and engaged in the very second he is in…all the things that make me a little crazy at times are the same things that make him one of the dearest souls on the planet.

I clearly need to get back in bed and sleep with a baby. So I shall…

and if you are one of my dear friends/family that I feel horrible about not connecting with right now, please know it is not indicative of my love for you. I can’t turn my brain off to stop thinking about you and feel like a loser for not calling so I finally turned my phone off yesterday as Jorge had told me to do for the 5,000th time. I’m really trying to actually hibernate (even in my head). Hope to resurface sometime next week…peace until then.

lyra at 2 days old

I can remember looking out at the sea of people from the top steps of the altar on our wedding day. All 450 of them, half of the crowd in tears. I was overwhelmed by the collective support and love in that moment, no longer regretting the sacrifice of a kickin’ reception for 125 that I thought I had wanted. It felt like the world was behind us, sending us off with hope our love could make it.

There is something about people who knew you in the beginning, or even before you were you. It doesn’t matter if they are only meant to be present for a season or until the very end. They create space for blessing to rest herself in the air around and send you forth into all that is meant for you. Sometimes they can even see things you can’t because they knew the magic from that very first moment. I know from experience this is so precious.

So the same feeling has circled again but this time for my child. It touches a different and very deep part of me. and now there are strangers mixed in with loved ones, so many more to share in the joy that is lyra grace…I can’t begin to tell you what it means to my mother heart…a simple thank you is all I have to offer, thank you for loving my girl into the world with me.

peace,

patience

lyra grace salgado

9.26.08 at 10:13pm

born at home, in the water, by candlelight

8lbs, 10 oz

21 inches long

lots of peace, contentment and pure joy surrounding

photo taken by Jack

The goodness that is Lucy:

Lucy: You are my french fry mama…

Me: I am?! (a real expression of love as french fries are her most favorite in the whole world.)

Lucy: yeah…and you are my apple.

Me: well, you are my macaroni and cheese.

Lucy: she giggles- Nah…

Me: yeah, really you are.

Then she throws a full body hug my way…this child. *sigh*

no baby yet…just turning more and more inward everyday…i barely feel like talking at all…it must be soon.

my view looking down, no more feet in sight

I was driving home from the country late on a Monday night. My friend Heather had just literally healed me (but that is a different post entirely) during a massage. I don’t know if you have ever been healed in your heart by a touch, a word, an act of kindness but there’s sort of a hazy feeling after. This can all be heightened by pregnancy (especially my particular brand) but I never thought it would get me in any kind of trouble with the cops.

I was on the highway almost to my exit when I noticed a police car following me closely.

Hmmm….I thought to myself. I’m not speeding, I’m totally legal. I even have my inspection sticker up to date, I’m straight. Whatevah! I kept driving and went right back to my thinking.

Now, I have been known to miss exits and be late to pick up children at preschool due to my deep thinking and if I’m very honest I have been in a few (a few is more than 3 right?) minor accidents in my day but still…

The lights go on. I’m baffled. I pull over. Both cops get out of the car, one checks my back seat and trunk with a flashlight and the other comes to my window.

I kinda laugh, there are 2 car seats and a bag of golf clubs in the trunk. The cop has a very intense look in his face, he is about eleventeen years old and very cute. Maybe 2 days out of the academy.

Cop: “Maam, do you have any idea why I pulled you over?”

Me: “I have NO idea, please tell me.” I say in my most upbeat positive voice.

Cop: “Are you feeling alright maam? You were swerving back there.”

Me: “Umm…yeah. I guess I was just deep in thought, ya know? I just had a massage, I probably should have had some more water after, maybe I’m not feeling that great? Oh, I don’t know.”

Cop: as he points the light closer to my eyes

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Me: “Well, I am pregnant.” (which really should explain everything)

He points the flashlight at my belly. I start to wonder if I look suburbia pregnant or crack mother pregnant as I remember the massage oil must make my hair look very greasy in his light. And who has a massage at almost 11:00pm at night? Oh dear, this is either very funny or very bad.

Cop: “Hold tight maam’, I’ll be right back.”

Me: “Sure.”

He eventually came back with one more flashlight look in the back seat. Looking for empty PBR bottles, Bud Light cans or needles I’m sure.

Cop: “Okay maam’, you are free to go. Just try to stay in your lane okay?”

Me: “Absolutely, no problem. Thank you and sorry!”

Only me, only pregnancy craziness and healing would make me a danger to my fellow driving citizens. Don’t worry my Richmond friends, I’m on my best driving behavior.

A pregnancy pull over, it’s one for the books…

If being with fellow obama-ians can’t turn the last days of your crappy pregnant life around, I don’t know what can. There were plenty of familiar faces, new friends, bubbles, healthy snacks and hope to go around. I was clicking so fast I was barely looking through the lens.

Only half of our family wanted to go, I insisted for myself. “We HAVE to go guys! This is like history here.” We compromised by driving, Josiah and I wanted to walk. The park and ice cream after made the day doable for all. Ice cream has that effect on almost everything. but so does hope…

if you are a reader and i have posted a pic above that you wish not to be public please e-mail me and i’ll be happy to remove. much peace…

I roll (literally) out of bed because this is the only way I can get out these days. I look at myself in the mirror.

“Yep, I look done, cooked.” I say to myself.

It’s Thanksgiving dinner and all the side dishes are piping hot, ready to go. The glasses are on the table, the ice is melting. I open the oven door to a perfectly brown turkey and then stick the thermometer under that bad boy’s leg- it barely reaches 175 degrees. The turkey is NOT done, even though it looks perfectly ready. Damn…

That’s me. I have that haggard sort of done pregnant face insisting that I’ll probably be giving birth by tonight or tomorrow. When is the full moon again? How many centimeters am I dilated already? except, apparently I’m not cooked all the way, I’m like at 180 degrees. and technically I have 2 more weeks…but there is just one huge problem.

I’m so off my game, I couldn’t be further from the field. I’m one of those very pregnant people who lives life until the very last second and then I drop a baby. It’s a much more pleasant way to be at the end. One more time at the gym? one last dinner out? of course we can pick apples! This strategy has served me right into labor.

example:

6:45pm- I was watching Napoleon Dynamite thinking to myself, “Why can’t I pay attention to this movie?”

8:57pm- Lucy was in my arms.

Today (and the last 5 days), nothing is working…I feel like ass. I’m nauseous and exhausted, my body and mind hit a huge wall even I can’t climb over. So I lay in bed hoping this is not my life for the next 2 (or God help me, 3) weeks. I am more disturbed by my inability to do it the way I want than having to wait.

My midwife (who is like yoda) assures me you do not enter birth this way, and that I should feel better by the weekend. This little hormone shift is also indicative of 4th baby and a sign of going to the end, needless to say this was not encouraging news to me.

Especially after only being able to stay a whole 25 minutes (they are usually an hour) at my appointment because Lucy was a total pill. I cried the whole way home…my only comforting thought was that nobody knows when except baby girl, maybe that’s exactly how it should be.

Truth be told, I don’t even like the turkey, the stuffing is the best part and is definitely worth the wait…

so dear internets…what say you to this almost done brown turkey? how do you do the end? what wisdom are you hiding under your turkey leg?

32 flavors of happiness and gratitude on the first day of my 32nd year of life:

1. my hunky lovah and best friend

2. my new camera

3. chai lattes from anywhere

4. my wild child

5. guerrilla goodness

6. flip flop love

7. interesting documentaries

Read the rest of this entry »

I went out with a dear friend the other night and returned home to a peaceful sleeping family. This is good right? It means that Jorge did all the nightly parenting things like homework, dinner, baths, books and bed. Ummm…not so much. I woke up at 6am to a very restless Lucy who promptly threw up 6 pieces of Bubble Yum gum.

“My scumach hurts mama!” she said.

Yes, that’s right, SIX…and 3 more an hour later. I have to say Bubble Yum has to be the most delicious of sugary gums and really, who can resist? even if the pieces are the size of bricks and take up your entire mouth.

The boys- no bath, dinner sounded very sketchy and Josiah completely forgot homework existed.

What were they all doing? Lucy obviously had the most fun and got the worst indulgence hangover.

Jorge and the boys had a free for all but mostly they were engrossed in computers- the boys playing on one while Jorge was fixing a friend’s- and making these cool creations…

Check it out, it’s all about the origami love over here:

Jorge and Josiah have been working on lots of Bug-a-gami.

the octopus

the frog

the snake

the snail

So after the bubbalicious vomit passed, kids made it to school and the being royally annoyed at Jorge wore off, I have to admit these are VERY cool. I guess an ungodly amount of bubble gum, an absent mother, some good paper and a broken computer are all you need to get a party going…

* one tiny bit of truth I should probably mention- jorge has done all night-time parenting this week while i go out or lay in bed and continue to grow scarily larger and more pregnant.

Lucy and I ran like 1,000 errands the other day while the boys fall back into a routine of school and responsible life. We don’t go to stores very often so it had been quite some time since Lucy had stepped into a space where shoe aisles go on forever and almost reach the ceiling.

Within 2 minutes her shoes were off and she was trying on a killer pair of stilettos. The Sunday best hats complete with feathers only sold in Richmond happened to be right around the corner. It was a two year old’s fashionista fantasy come true.

I was regretting leaving my stroller at home but could not fault her deep love and admiration for all things pretty and over-the-top tacky.

When it was time to leave I knew it would be bad. I did the drill, gave her warning, but we still left in a screaming, flailing fit. I could feel the judging eyes staring at the back of my head as the door closed behind me. I carried her to the car while she was desperately trying to get out of my hold, fighting me the entire way.

She yelled for a a very tiny yellow flower she spotted in the median. She wanted the flower, I wanted her in the car. She screamed while I pushed her body into the car seat and wrestled the seatbelt until it clicked. I was fully exhausted and angry.

I climbed into my seat and sat for just a minute to collect myself. I said nothing…

Lucy: You aren’t ANGRY! You aren’t angry, you aren’t angry! (there is command in her voice)

Me: I AM angry actually! Do you see this belly, do you see how big it is? There’s a baby in there and it’s hard to carry you. You are making it so hard for me. I gave you a chance to cooperate and you didn’t!

Are YOU angry?

Lucy: NO, I’m sad!

Me: What? You’re SAD? (totally caught offguard)

Lucy: Yeah, I’m sad! (she whimpers)

Me: Why are you sad?

Lucy: Because I really wanted that flower… (we are quiet for just a few seconds)

Me: I know *sigh*, can you be gentle and not so hard with me and I can get you that flower?

Lucy: Yeah, I can do that.

I’m sorry. (in a contrite voice)

Me: I’m sorry too.

I hopped out and picked the tiny flower in the middle of the ugly concrete median. I handed it to her.

Lucy: Thanks a lot.

Me: Your welcome. I love you Luce…

Lucy: me too mama…

She is exhausting and yet she pushes me to meet her, to see her, to understand, to resolve our differences, to find love. It was almost strange, our exchange, how adult it was…I felt some strange peace that as different as we are she keeps pushing me to connect, to accept and love her. Like some tiny flower in the middle of everything hard. She will not be defined as one thing, one way of being. And I love her for that…

You are not so small to be just one idea, thought or emotion. You can be pissed and grateful, brave and scared, tired and hopeful, sad and yet full of joy…you can be all the things. There is space for all the hues, dark and light. When we try to be just one, we quiet something else.

Let it flow…and everything starts to make sense.

a very sweet josiah with a just minutes old lucy

There’s nothing like the look on your midwife’s face after she checks you and says, “Yeah, you should get the birthing tub THIS week.” to remind you that the baby decides when to come.

At 36 weeks pregnant with my 4th, I’m 3cm dilated, 70% effaced and 0 station (for all the non-birth junkies- this means I could drop this kid at any moment, or not, who knows?) I promptly came home and was in complete horror at how dirty my baseboards are. Nest much?

I’m pretty sure baby girl won’t be licking the baseboards anytime soon but still I clean…and climb into the attic to find tiny baby things.

I must tell you that there are times when guerrilla goodness isn’t exactly all sweetness and light. Supersisters and Guerrilla Goodness teamed up after Jen came up with this awesome idea for some first day of school love.

The idea was to leave the kids walking to school some anonymous sidewalk chalk messages of encouragement for a new school year.

Josiah wasn’t sure he wanted to go in the first place, he felt a little embarrassed doing something at his own school. We had a huge drama over illegal video game play earlier and Jack felt horrible so he was ready for anything redemptive in nature. I wasn’t totally convinced we should go after all but was hopeful it might turn a bad day around.

We went anyway and everyone started to get into it once we were there. Josiah had a great idea for a message about making new friends. Here it was:

The only problem was that an overtired Jack said he was thinking of a similar message just for kindergarteners and was devastated that his older brother beat him to the punch. He melted into tears, so we wrote another message in his words but we struggled to recover. It’s okay though, some days are better than others in kindness work and it’s always good to try.

It was such a lovely idea, you can still join us even if you missed the first day. Sometimes you need more encouragement the second day after everything sets in a bit.

Here’s hoping your kindness adventure goes a little smoother than ours! Have a great first day!

A Kindness Girl Podcast attempt…

Stranger Story #1: The Traveling Hippies

It’s 3:53am.

Five of the six people in our house are wide awake. Me, Jorge, Jack, Lucy and baby girl in belly.

We have had a variety of insomnia at our house recently…pregnancy, kid, life stress….none of which is good for anyone. It hasn’t helped that we have been running a frat house all summer either. People up all hours with no bedtimes and routines. The mavericks in us are perfectly fine with this arrangement but the parents in us know it will catch up with us at some point. Tonight is the night.

If you just mention the word “bed” to Lucy she begins to wail loudly.

“I don’t wanna go to bed!!!” She fights sleep with everything in her tiny body and let me tell you, there is A LOT of power there. She went to bed at decent hour but woke around 3:30 and insisted she didn’t want or need to sleep.

Reasoning with her is near impossible but my tired brain started to believe it might be an option. And crazy things happen in the middle of the night. Things are said, conversations had that just can’t be in the light of day…

Jorge, Lucy and I sat on the couch in the dark.

Me: Luce, sleep is your friend.

Lucy: (while wailing) What!?

Jorge: Sleep is good Luce. (very gently)

Lucy: WHAT???!!! (like we are crazy)

Jorge: Sleep is good baby…

The exchange goes on back and forth getting quieter each time until it has become almost a whisper, a mantra is born. She finally buries her head in his chest and he whispers words of safety and kindness that I can barely hear.

He holds her and I slip away to climb in bed with a very awake Jack. I close my eyes but there are more middle of the night conversations to be had.

Jack: (in a whisper) Mom, do you know sometimes when you have a baby another kid can get left out? …because the baby is so cute.

Me: Oh no! Did that ever happen to you?

Jack: No, I don’t think so.

Me: Are you worried it could happen to you this time when our baby comes?

Jack: No.

Me: Do you think it could happen to Lucy?

Jack: maybe…

Me: There’s something you should probably know then. There is A LOT of love in our family. There is enough love for everyone…papa, me, you, josiah, lucy AND our baby.

Jack: yeah, I thought so.

Me: oh good, do you think you can rest now?

Jack: yeah…

Why is is that so many little thoughts creep in at night? Doubts and fears…things that weigh in the back of our minds. But there is so much beauty and quiet to the night making it the perfect time to sort things out, give things up…find love in the whisper.

my kids and their cousins taking over the big fancy pants pbs office with teletubbie horns

I am a writer. I write.

“What??? a writer?” No, writers live in pretty cottages over looking some magnificent body of water. They travel to NYC to meet with agents, editors and publishers… they spend hours drinking wine, eating gourmet cheese while working on their fabulous novels. They only take a break everyday to walk to the end of their tree lined driveway in the woods to find a big fat royalty check in the mailbox. They know how to spell and use proper grammar all the time. They are incredibly fascinating and they all wear black turtlenecks…this is the life of a writer.

The writers are laughing…probably still in their pajamas. I come from a family of writers except I never considered myself one. The internet cracked everything open and suddenly everyone had a chance, like the whole world. My label just changed to “I’m not a real writer.”

Yet still I wrote…hiding quietly in the corner. My life was so simple but sweet and I wasn’t really looking to stretch myself or put it out there. But what if there was something to simple but sweet? What if the everyday, living, being, loving was a treasure? What if being able to articulate that life was my secret superpower I needed to discover?

That meant I might be a writer after all and something about that scared the bejeezus out of me. Then came PBS…My one sister was tearing up the internet by becoming the internet commerce queen
while the other sister was saving the world with her best Rwandan friend and their combined soul magic. Luckily, all my sisters (a third whose very presence lights up and owns every room she enters) deeply believed in me. Even if we absolutely can’t speak to each other or struggle on how to be together, there is a deep belief in each other and love. So Kris asked me if I would like to join she and Jen on a writing gig they were pursuing.

A parenting blog for PBSParents.org

PBS! Home to a soul like Mr. Roger’s, to an institution whose values have held strong for so many years, to a place that deeply cares for children in so many ways that felt so familiar. I couldn’t imagine a better fit for me.

Kris made the pitch…3 sisters, 8 kids, completely different people, different parenting styles all sharing their lives with the world. We got the gig and after months of designing, marketing and planning together, a blog was born:

Supersisters: Because Every Mother Needs a Sister

The thing is…PBS felt like writing home on so many levels. I respect all they stand for, I love my bosses, just being in the PBS building does something to my heart. The values, the care, everything inviting me to allow this part of myself be seen and heard. I will always be forever grateful for what PBS has already given me…

So my doubts about being a writer still swirl, my sisters and I have stress finding our way, and a job is still a job with all the dynamics and flaws like everywhere else but the journey is welcomed and celebrated. and no one wears black turtlenecks.

Come check it out and leave 57,000 comments, I hope you discover all the magic I have found there and more…

love,

the writer

Somewhere in the last 48 hours, I feel like it is now safe to be pregnant and have a baby. A deep feeling of peace has come over my heart, I can rest and wait. My body must be agreeing with my new discovery as I have been contracting like crazy, letting go of every bit of tension it has carried for way too long. Simply out of survival, not trying to be strong…but the storm is over, the waves are still crashing finding their way to the shore and not everything is calm but it will be…it’s the beginning of the end. and I know, we are okay, even in the storm. I believe it’s going to be alright.

sending the same hope for you if today is hard…

thanks jen gray for your insanely awesome mix sent to jen...

the portobella and mozzarella panini

I hopped in the car after picking up a really late lunch, I was so hungry and had been thinking about this food all day…longing for it actually.

“Please remind me there are small children in Africa starving right now!” I said to Jorge.

J: Yes, a lot of them…

P: Yes, yes there are and please help me come to that conclusion after I tell you my bad news. (disclaimer: there was NO kindness in my heart during this conversation)

J: Sure, no problem, what happened?

P: They were out of my sandwich!

J: Oh no… (he knows my disappointment)

P: NO, it gets worse…they are CANCELLING my sandwich, as in taking it off the menu- it will be gone in 2 weeks. You don’t understand babe, that is the sandwich of my life. I was going to eat that after I gave birth, it was all planned- that and a cup of veggie soup. I can’t give birth in 2 weeks.

(now mind you, my family had been doing crisis for 12 weeks now and I have barely even thought about being pregnant much less giving birth but I KNOW what I’ll be eating after.)

I know that sandwich is a little suburbia for such a city girl but I just can’t imagine what could possibly take it’s place, you know? It’s been my go-to, MY sandwich, there are like only two of those on the entire planet for me?

AND then they refused to take off the meat in my next choice and there was no sweet tea…it was bad I tell ya…

J: I’m SO sorry!

P: I KNOW right? but there are people starving somewhere and this is the biggest problem I have in this very moment? I’m such a loser.

J: It’s okay…

P: thanks…*sigh*

Fast forward to yesterday when we FINALLY (after years of saying we need to go) went to this hole in the wall little joint here in Richmond. I had completely filed away my sandwich debacle into pure disappointment and was not even looking for hope.

I ordered the Smoked gouda with caramelized onions and sliced tomatoes…when it came the bread was shaped like a heart. I showed Jorge…

“Look at this!” The universe was sending me pretty.

I tasted it…”oh my gosh, you HAVE to try this.”

J: Wow!

P: I KNOW!

J: This sandwich totally kicks the other sandwich’s ass! I think you found a new sandwich babe….

P: Yes, yes I have AND it’s so pretty AND local…all things that are important to me and in line with my sandwich values, you know? Will you bring this to me after I have the baby?

J: Absolutely! NO problem…

Crisis averted, I have a new love, the new sandwich of my life…

come on…what is the sandwich of your life, I know you have one?

art by jen lemen

Here are 5 things you should do when you are feeling sad, overwhelmed, and realizing you have absolutely no control over the circumstances in your life… (spoken from recent experience)

1. Ride your bike– after a good cry while sitting on the back steps of my porch, I noticed my bike in the corner with cobwebs on her. She is a blue cruiser with a big wicker basket on the front, she is sweet and kind of dreamy.

I’m sure it isn’t the best idea to ride your bike when you are 8 months pregnant but somehow (even with my enormous belly) I climbed on. I rode up a slight hill, turned on the next block and road downhill with my eyes closed. The wind blowing on my face, the trees rustling, birds chirping…everything felt different. I rode this one block loop about 10 times.

2. Get some touch– I know it sounds scandalous but you need some kind of touch. Hugs, holding, etc…in my case, I went to get a pedicure. I have no money so I went to the cheapy place at the mall where I’m sure fungi congregate but I pretended that little potential problem didn’t exist. The pedicurist and I didn’t speak the same language, but we had the nicest communication with our hearts and intention. She told me I had nice legs- “long and strong” and the best part was she rubbed my feet for a really long time.

3. Make your bed– If you are a habitual bedmaker, you can halfway skip this step. Put fresh sheets on your bed and climb in. It takes me back to days when my mom folded hospital corners and insisted that everyone should have a comfy place to rest. Take a good book with you or watch a movie on your laptop. Ignore children if needed.

4. Be in nature– My dear friend Ann was spilling out her wisdom to me the other day…”You know, being in nature reminds you that life is going on all around you.” It helps you to step outside of yourself for just a little while, to see, really see life. There is hope and trust in growth and green things.

5. Draw from the well of love– I have this well of love I go to. I keep thinking it should surely be dry by now, my bucket keeps going deeper making me wonder if there is a bottom at all. I didn’t know how truly special this well was until now, until I figured out it was a very real thing I could keep coming back to, no matter what.

If that sounds foreign to you, find the small wells all around. Kind girlfriends, music and art…they are there and can give you little bits of what you need.

Feel free to share your go-to’s in times of trouble in the comments…

I might be the only person on the planet that can barely stand the olympics. I spend half the time watching them with my hands covering my face with one eye peeking through. Everyone’s hopes and dreams right out there, all tied up in one moment…when they lose? oh I can barely take it. then if they cry? I’m toast…

I seriously was having braxton-hicks while watching the Phelps finish. And don’t even get me started on the Brazilian gymnast guy competing in the floor exercise the other night, one mistake, his ENTIRE country’s hope is gone…it’s just too much. I feel like there should be soul healers (or maybe just a mother) walking around the games giving hugs.

Hmmm…I could do that job. Is there an olympics suggestion box?

in labor with Josiah

I’ve been staring at this picture for close to an hour, looking at the girl, remembering how she felt.

The first time there is so much you don’t know…you are just following the path, finding your way through. Life feels like this right now, each week has called me to a deeper place of undoing- testing my strength and courage, revealing parts I didn’t know were there, uncertainty growing all the time. I keep looking for soft places to fall but lately I just haven’t come to them yet, so I walk a little further. Tonight I feel a little lost and my light is flickering. There are moments in labor, even with the whole world around you, cheering you on, that you walk alone because something is held for you there. May grace shine her light on my way…

Jackie-boy sporting his Mraz look

Jason Mraz

I have always felt completely endeared to Jason Mraz (beside loving his work) because I think he looks like what I imagine the man version of Jack might be. Who knows what his heart is like, or what calls to him, but there is something about him that reminds me of my little boy.

His album has been on repeat for 2 days, hence the Beautiful Mess song. It’s almost as if I’m constantly searching for the music that will serve as the soundtrack of my life. I need a theme song, if you will, it’s like a friend or companion that walks along with me. It’s completely cheesy, I know…

and then there are days like today when I MUST get something done, the laundry has overtaken the tiny hall, legos are trickling down the stairs, the mess can no longer be ignored. The secret to actually tolerating cleaning is good music, played really loud. It can get you to do almost anything. So I took an informal poll among my family members… what music helps you clean?

Jorge- Styx …really? are you sure about that?

Me- Ben Folds – any of his albums

Josiah- Queen

Jack- Putumayo African Playground

Lucy- The Enchanted Soundtrack– which usually means there is much more dancing than cleaning. And lots of singing completely off-key. Girl can’t carry a tune to save her life but she is totally invested.

Scary thing is…ALL of these selections were played today and we STILL have more cleaning to do.

What’s your music magic for cleaning and other boring chores?

This is how I know I am my mother’s daughter- the laundry/dish-o-matic. It was today’s solution to a week long problem of no water coming out my kitchen sink faucet* and a slow to respond landlord.

My parent’s eyes light up a little in crisis. They both thrive on the in-the-moment problem solving and can find a way to make almost anything work. Living in a heavily damaged Hurricane- torn house with no electricity or running water ? no problem, my mom can have a system set up in minutes that will make you feel like you are at 5-star hotel. (it really happened, Hurricane Andrew 1992)

Jorge just laughed as I loaded the washer with plastic Ikea dishes. I just got tired of washing them in the sink in the bathroom. It was time to channel good ole’ mom. Can I just tell you how scary it was that the washer not only worked but completely rocked? soaked em’, washed ’em and spun ’em dry. This might be the best discovery yet for this girl who HATES to wash dishes…

*can a plumber in the crowd explain why this is the ONLY place in the house where we have no water? Something stopping the line up perhaps?

1. rise, together we rise, if you believe in redemption…- I’m pretty sure I was the only extremely pregnant person at The National on Saturday to see The Flobots. I was still 10 years too old and 8 months too pregnant to be there but I didn’t even care. The venue was perfect, it has all the charm of old and yet the air inside is filled with the energy of new. The band is young, their hearts so pure, I felt like I was at a peprally for goodness in the world.

2. ready and fresh- I have decided I want to be one of those people (like my husband and my old friend amy o.) who always have sunglasses, chapstick and gum with them at all times. I never have any of those things, so I end up with squinty eyes, chapped lips and dry mouth. Maybe someday I’ll really grow up and start carrying a purse. I’m curious, what things do you always have with you?

3. real love is messy- I was realizing this week how love can not be contained or explained by logic and reason, it just doesn’t work. It will not be tamed, it is messy, passionate and forgiving.

4. kindness strikes again- my dear friend Jenna and her very generous extended family gave us a timeshare this past weekend. It turned out to be a haven and place of major relaxation for not only my family but others I love who really needed it. The givers will never fully know the impact of their kindness I’m sure…may it be returned to them 10 fold.

The ant…I understand this tiny being. It is said they can carry 10, 20 and even 50 times their own body weight. This makes them very remarkable. I’ve been at war with whole colonies in my kitchen lately and yet sometimes I just watch in awe. So many of them, working so hard, carrying so much. I can kind of relate.

It seems I have acquired, inherited, been gifted, whatever you want to call it, the curse of capability. I can carry and juggle quite a bit before I drop anything or things fall apart. Maybe it is some inner self value I’ve held on to, at the very least to try, give everything I have, keep carrying on. Withholding any bit of myself feels like withholding my love.

While this is usually a good thing and has served me well, in the wrong circumstances it can be disastrous. My vision of wants and needs gets all meshed together with both strangers and people I love. All I can see in every room is need, the kind that is as plain as the nose on your face and the tiny one hiding behind your heart. It all looks like need to me, it’s hard to distinguish want.

But when I find myself alone in a room with my own need, an awkward conversation ensues.

“Hey Need, how’s it goin’, I’m patience.” we shake hands and I shift in my seat nervously.

Need stares at me, we sit in silence….”Okay, I’m going to be heading out now, nice meeting you.”, while I make a beeline for the door.

I rarely ever see want, I’ve heard of her but she feels more like a rockstar that rolls into town ever so often, the concerts and hotel parties are amazing but feel indulgent.

I start to wonder about this part of myself as life unravels around me. I wonder just because I can do something, does it mean I should do it? I start to imagine what might happen if I put my load down for just a minute. I’m learning to allow space to find out. Maybe there are more ants like me, ones I haven’t even met yet. The kind that know when and how much to pick up and don’t carry a curse.

The interesting thing about curses is they only have power if you give it to them. They seem big and overwhelming but mostly they just like you to feed them. They die when the power is cut off and taken back.

So today I sit longer with Need and try to get to know her. I invite Want to come over and play, we eat brownie sundaes and lay around together. I tell the curse I have nothing to offer him today, he leaves in a huff and I return to watch the ants.

These conversations never come at a planned time, and never when you have a moment to collect your thoughts. It’s probably exactly how life should go, it’s a kid’s evolutionary inner truth-o-meter that ensures they get the whole story. It’s almost as powerful as their innate ability to somehow bug you when you are on the phone even if they are in another room entirely.

I now file it under the “kid’s superpower” category, it must be embraced and even honored.

Here’s how it went down:

Scene: 3 kids in the backseat on the way to the outdoor summer movie.

Jack: Mom, when is our baby coming?

Me: I’m not sure exactly but I think at the end of September or October sometime…kinda after the time you start kindergarten.

Jack: How does the baby get in there?

Me: Well, the mom and the dad make the baby together. inner thought- (oh crap, I just invited the next question, dammit!)

Jack: but how do the mom and dad make the baby?

Me: The dad gives his sperm to the mom who has the egg and then the baby starts to grow. You know, like how my belly is growing, our baby is growing inside? (this is where the conversation ended last time.)

Jack: but how does the dad give the mom the sperm?

Me: (awww man, we are at the point of no return) Well, you know how boys have pen*ses and girls have vag*nas right?

Lucy: raises her hand and yells loudly- I have a bagina!!!

Jack: yeah…?

Me: Well, you know how a pen*s is kinda long? (I can’t believe I am doing this. Where the hell is Jorge in these moments?) and you know how the vag*na is like a hole right?

Jack: yeah!

Me: Well the boy puts his pen*s into the girl’s vag*na and then the sperm comes out of there…and then it goes up to the girl’s egg and sometimes a baby grows.

I swear this conversation was as casual as chit-chat about what color the sky is or where we should go for dinner.

Jack: Oh, so did you and papa do that?

Me: uh-huh (thinking this is surely enough information for one day)

Jack: So do you do that just when you want to make a baby, is that the only time you do that?

Me: (OMG!!!) Actually no buddy, it’s feels really good and it’s a special (i knew the word “special” would somehow find it’s way into the conversation) way to be really close to somebody you love and care about. BUT your body has to be ready for that, you know? you have to be a big boy like papa for it to work.

So now the entire back seat (ages 8, 5, 2) has had s*x explained in detail without ever using the word or your mother sitting you down to read you a “book”. I hope this is a good thing…all I need is for my kids to be educating the neighborhood now.

Jack: I’m think I’m ready for a baby.

Me: panicking- I don’t know buddy, I think you have to be bigger first for it to work.

Jack: NO mom, for our baby to come.

Me: Oh yeah, gotcha buddy. (oh sweet Jesus, thank you!)

I text Jorge- I just had to explain sex in detail to ALL our kids.

Jorge’s return- that’s awesome! can’t wait to hear about it…

Me- Where ARE you in these moments?

Jorge- lol

Jorge tucked Jack into bed that night…”Hey buddy, I heard you were asking mom some questions about babies and stuff today.” Jack smiles shyly “I want you to know something Jackie, you can ask me anything and I’ll always tell you the truth, okay?”

Jack nods and goes to bed.

truth telling over for the day….what will tomorrow bring?

After ignoring the children all day to watch 12 episodes (and I’m so embarrassed to admit I’m not exaggerating) of Weeds on Friday, Jorge declared that Saturday would be Family Day! Family day? Isn’t everyday family day since we almost always all end up in the same room regardless of what we are doing all the time? Actually, I shared his guilt as we hid in our bedroom even for meals so we could keep the suburban housewife drug dealer marathon going.

So Family Day was declared. I’ve come to discover my kids like things announced and hyped up a bit. They seem to remember these events later. It also gives me an opportunity to mock such events when they aren’t going so well but there does always seem to be some small delight that everyone holds on to in their memories. Here are the boys introducing Family Day:

So we started on our hike much to Lucy’s dismay, everything was bothering her. She settled when we found this little place to explore.

Josiah found this…

and this…which he thought looked like puppy chow (a family recipe favorite made with golden grahams, peanut butter and chocolate)

Jack just wanted to get his feet wet…

Beside our expectation to find dead animals…we saw a turtle shell, tadpoles, butterflies, a snake skin, dragon flies, frogs and squirrels. Our hike ended when Lucy refused to walk anymore and begged for a dress and clean shoes. So we ended up at the park eating these…

then to play, swing, and gawk at another pregnant woman at the park who looked painfully large. Jorge was disappointed I didn’t find out if she was having twins. I just couldn’t ask…

We ended our day with picking blackberries at an older couple’s house/tiny farm. We had to knock on the door to get make sure it was okay and get some instructions. The older gentleman made jokes, the kids charmed, it was lovely. Jorge and I decided this might be our dream retirement- growing berries next to our house and welcoming families who want to pick. We picked….and everyone faded fast.

They were beauties and SO sweet:

Everyone fell asleep on the way home. And so ends Family Day 2008.

The reflection in the water of the trees…