I thought this week would turn out to be a most memorable one, after my candidate swept the election...well I wasn't wrong, but its not memorable for that reason alone. Kayla has been struggling with a persistent rash on her nether regions for months now, since the summer. We have been to the doctor for it half a dozen times. It has gone from a staph infection, to a yeast infection to an irritation, to strep, and now, the most definitive and terrifying defintion: MRSA. Now for anyone who doesn't know what that is, its a antibotic resistant staph infection. She also has impetigo, which she has had before, and will clear up, but is still gross and itchy. When the doctor said MRSA however, I became near hysterical. MRSA has KILLED people. My mother had MRSA during her illness, and I was warned, as I was pregnant at the time, that it could be transmitted to Kayla through contact with my mother. There wasn't any concrete proof of this, and we took precautions, but I was absolutely guilt ridden and sick with myself, thinking I had caused this to happen to Kayla. There's no way to prove I didn't, but Dr. Holtzman thinks it would be HIGHLY, HIGHLY unlikely. She also assured me MRSA as it exists in the pediatric community is much less severe and life threatening then it is in within the adult community. She gave Kayla some heavy duty antibotics, only one of two known to effectively treat MRSA, and we should be on the way to a complete recovery. Being the neurotic person I am, I have been surfing the web and have discovered that 77 kids died last year from a combo of the flu and MRSA and MRSA has been linked with respiratory problems. My mind immediately goes into overdrive...one, Kayla has a cough, which she developed this week, so is it a cold or MRSA reeking havoc on her system? Two, she hasn't gotten her flu shot yet...we're due to get it Friday...is she going to end up in a very serious situation?
My whole point with this is, will I ever get to the point when I believe what a doctor tells me? I have been assured she will be all right. I have to keep her on the antibotics and I am quarantining her just because I don't want to expose anyone else to it, but I can't lose the feeling like this situation could go another way, a very scary way at any moment. I need to stop, and breath, and realize it will all be all right. In the meantime, I am not sure if my sanity will stay intact between an itching child, endless cartoons, sterlizing everything in sight, and everything else! Wish us luck!
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Halloween Hoopla...and A Day with Thomas
Sorry all these pics are at the top...it wouldn't let me move them! GRR!
My favorite pic of the day...me and the kids on the carousel.
Kayla on the train...SO EXCITED!
Kayla, Malik and I at A Day with Thomas
Kayla and I as Pebbles and Wilma...yeah I know, no red hair! Bugged me all night!
The Flintstone and Rubble clan...the MODERN Stone Age family...no men! HAHA!So, Halloween has come and gone. All in all, a very good night. I didn't find a Wilma wig, or spray my hair with the hideous red hair spray Sara found, so I was a brown haired Wilma, sans honkin' pearls as well, and that detracted from the night, but everything still went very nicely and we all had fun. Kayla skinned her knee about 5 seconds into trick or treating, but she had a wonderful night, and made out like a bandit!
Today, we went to A Day Out with Thomas the Train, the popular character on PBS. Tickets were $18 a piece, so $32 for me and Kayla. Might not sound like a lot to some people, but for me, thats a pretty big deal. I can get a lot of groceries for $32, and a lot of clothes and shoes for her too! But I decided to go, and I don't regret it at all! Kayla had never been on a train before, and we go to ride in the car right in back of Thomas (the VIP section I told her!) and she LOVED it! She loved the bus ride from the parking lot too! She was just excited by everything. After we got off the train, where she got a cute Junior Engineer certificate and where we cheered on Thomas, we got our photo taken with Thomas, and tried to get one with the kids from our camera with Thomas, but of course they didn't cooperate, and we didn't get the pic. Why do kids never cooperate when we want them to? Oh well, I have the memory, just not the photo op.
Next we spotted the free kiddie rides set up. Free! I was so excited, usually anything you go to like that, its always extra. But this was included. We did three rides, including Kayla's favorite, the carousel. That girl is looney over carousels. She also loved the Lego version of Thomas that they had set up. We skipped the magic show also included, but we did get some Thomas temp tattoos.
We headed over to the Imagination Station, where tons of Thomas tracks were set up for kids to play with, along with a Thomas viewing station, and tables of stamping and coloring activities. Kayla got her face painted and missed getting a pic with Sir Topham Hatt, which I was disappointed about. I mean, she knew he was there, and didn't care, she just wanted her face painted, and she didn't get upset at all that she didn't get her picture taken, but for me as a parent, I wanted her to say she had the experience, and on a stingy level, I wanted to get my money's worth! I know, its a bit insane, but I can't help it. Ohhh and a cute boat worker at the Steam Train hit on me. I should have given him my number. When we go back for the ride with Santa, I'll have to be on the lookout for him! HAHA!
After we hit the Imagination Station, we left, as kids all around us were having meltdowns, and ours were beginning to show signs that the fun was soon about to end in tears and tantrums. We got a cute magnet picture frame as a gift for the kids and boarded the bus back to the parking lot. All in all, we got our money's worth and I would definiteley recommend it to anyone with kids in the 2-4 range. I thought our Thomas adventure was over, but lo and behold, on our way to get lunch, Thomas chugged across the road. I tried to get some snaps, but my camera was being chintzy. Kayla saw it though, and was very excited to see him from another perspective, one last time.
The pizza place we went to topped everything off perfectly. Nice skylight and gravel floor, picnic tables and a cool juke box! AWESOME DAY!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tag, I'm it!
So my cousin Erin tagged me on her blog. I am not sure what all this tagging means, as I am new to the blog world, but I was instructed to go to the sixth folder of my photos and pick the sixth picture and share my memories about it. I have all my photos in one folder so I chose the sixth photo.
I swear I didn't do it on purpose, but this is one of my most favorite photos of my favorite person, Kayla! This picture was taken at Erin's baby shower and she was smiling at my sister, who she ADORES! I think her smile is so gorgeous and she looks so happy. She is also looking a bit too grown up for my liking, but I digress!
I also have to apologize for not blogging more often. I am in the middle of completing a new certification for work, and raising this crazy beautiful girl! Life is hectic! I promise to have more soon!
I don't have 6 people to tag, so I will just do one, my Auntie Lisa. I would be very interested in seeing what she posts!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
October
I've been planning Halloween costumes for me and Kayla since last month. Is it just me? Am I the only one who starts planning for the end of October in August? I claim I want to be prepared, but I need a distraction from October. From knowing that its coming, and from pretending that I will be fine once it arrives.
October used to be just another month, highlighted by my mother's most elaborate and favorite of holidays, Halloween. She made all of our costumes by hand, mine, Sara's, my step dad and hers. She decorated the house. She planned and executed two Halloween parties every year, one for the kids and one for the adults. The kids party was the stuff of legend at school- a fortune teller, a haunted house, those boxes of gross stuff you have to stick your hand in and guess what it is. The adult party was another legend in its own right. Family stories abound from those parties- Rich in his Batman costume stumbling home drunk at 3 AM and being stopped by the police, my mother almost being set on fire in a bar when she went as a scarecrow and used real straw by a man dressed as a magican doing a trick, Rich in his Elvis wig and getting sick in the car and looking by Prince from the wind blowing the wind at the end of the night. So yes, those were the Octobers of my childhood- fun, carefree, never dull.
What is October now? October is pain. October 13th, my mom's birthday, begins the guilt and sadness spiral. Next comes what would have been me and AJ's anniversary. Just an additional sadness to add to the month. Not saying I want to be with him, but its hard to let go of a life and love you imagined for yourself. October 26th- the day my mom went into the hospital and never came out. I remember the year she got sick, I had just moved in with AJ in August and I was pregnant. We were planning a Halloween party. I was attempting to fill the shoes of my mother, even though I never could. On the day she went in, my entire focus shifted. I remember I was on the phone with her doctor handing out Halloween candy. The world fell in on itself in October, and I don't know if its ever sturdied itself again.
Halloween is fun for Kayla now, and I look forward to that, don't misunderstand. She is going to be Pebbles this year, Malik is Bam Bam, I am going to be Wilma and Tammi is going to be Betty when we take the kids around house to house. Cutter is even going to be Dino. Its going to be fun, and I am even going to attempt to make our costumes, as I have seen nothing I really like online. Its going to feel a little bit like it used to, just for that one night. And that night, when we are taking the kids out, I will look up in the sky and know my mom is smiling and missing us, and of course making sure no one puts any razor blades in our apples...that was always her concern, that and getting all the Reese's for herself! HAHA!
And from October just comes the season of unbearability to me. November and Thanksgiving and Christmas...and while we are on the subject of Christmas, I am already planning that too. Any good ideas for Kayla? I am thinking a Leapster so far...not sure what else, but its stressing me out. I feel like I should be farther along in my holiday plans. Three months doesn't seem that long to me.
Its going to be a long holiday season. Very long indeed.
October used to be just another month, highlighted by my mother's most elaborate and favorite of holidays, Halloween. She made all of our costumes by hand, mine, Sara's, my step dad and hers. She decorated the house. She planned and executed two Halloween parties every year, one for the kids and one for the adults. The kids party was the stuff of legend at school- a fortune teller, a haunted house, those boxes of gross stuff you have to stick your hand in and guess what it is. The adult party was another legend in its own right. Family stories abound from those parties- Rich in his Batman costume stumbling home drunk at 3 AM and being stopped by the police, my mother almost being set on fire in a bar when she went as a scarecrow and used real straw by a man dressed as a magican doing a trick, Rich in his Elvis wig and getting sick in the car and looking by Prince from the wind blowing the wind at the end of the night. So yes, those were the Octobers of my childhood- fun, carefree, never dull.
What is October now? October is pain. October 13th, my mom's birthday, begins the guilt and sadness spiral. Next comes what would have been me and AJ's anniversary. Just an additional sadness to add to the month. Not saying I want to be with him, but its hard to let go of a life and love you imagined for yourself. October 26th- the day my mom went into the hospital and never came out. I remember the year she got sick, I had just moved in with AJ in August and I was pregnant. We were planning a Halloween party. I was attempting to fill the shoes of my mother, even though I never could. On the day she went in, my entire focus shifted. I remember I was on the phone with her doctor handing out Halloween candy. The world fell in on itself in October, and I don't know if its ever sturdied itself again.
Halloween is fun for Kayla now, and I look forward to that, don't misunderstand. She is going to be Pebbles this year, Malik is Bam Bam, I am going to be Wilma and Tammi is going to be Betty when we take the kids around house to house. Cutter is even going to be Dino. Its going to be fun, and I am even going to attempt to make our costumes, as I have seen nothing I really like online. Its going to feel a little bit like it used to, just for that one night. And that night, when we are taking the kids out, I will look up in the sky and know my mom is smiling and missing us, and of course making sure no one puts any razor blades in our apples...that was always her concern, that and getting all the Reese's for herself! HAHA!
And from October just comes the season of unbearability to me. November and Thanksgiving and Christmas...and while we are on the subject of Christmas, I am already planning that too. Any good ideas for Kayla? I am thinking a Leapster so far...not sure what else, but its stressing me out. I feel like I should be farther along in my holiday plans. Three months doesn't seem that long to me.
Its going to be a long holiday season. Very long indeed.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Observations on destiny
So I have officially become obsessed with Christina Coppa's blog, Storked!, on glamour.com. Coppa is a single mom to a one year old son, and the things she writes about her life, her child, they are the words in my heart, in my soul. She just got a book deal...lucky bitch. She is inspiring me to go there again, to find the words and write them down and send them out into the world, for all to read and know. Writing is where I truly find myself, and I have wandered so far off the path, but the rigors of this life just haven't given me time to go there, to get back to where I want and need to be. Coppa's blog talks about how she chose her life, she knew she was going to do it alone, and that it would be hard, but that she wouldn't trade it for anything. I feel that. So completely.
From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I think, in a lot of ways I was unwilling to admit at the time and for a long time afterward, I knew I would be right where I am today, raising Kayla on my own. Yes, AJ and I share custody, yes she loves her daddy, yes I get child support, yes I have it better than 90% of single moms in that respect, but at the end of the day, every week day I am alone raising her. I have my family always willing to help in whatever way they can, but my own pride and need to accept responsibility for the life I created doesn't often allow me to take advantage of that. But, in the end, and in the beginning, its me and Kayla. Love it or hate it, I am the one who is the fixer of the boo boos, the lay-er down of the law, the calm in the storm, the voice of reason. Yes, when I found out I was pregnant, this is the life I knew I would have. Don't get me wrong, I wanted the two parent family, the textbook definition of a "perfect" life, with the three of us around the dinner table sharing our days, Kayla's toys and clothes and other accessories of life strewn from one end of the house to other, hell even another baby by now.
Do I think we could have been happy? Yes, or if not, we could have put on the facade of happy. Do I think we are all better off now? Yes. Kayla has two parents that are over the moon for her, are friends to each other, co-parents in the truest sense, and two bedrooms- one Elmo, one Cinderella, one backyard with a jungle gym, one with a plastic house and a slide. More clothes and books and toys than any child should ever have. She can spell her name. She can recite her ABC's, her numbers to ten in English and Spanish, knows her colors and her shapes. By all accounts, we are doing something right. Her three years of life have been pretty happy, despite the ugliness of the first months of AJ's and I's break-up, and my overwhelming sadness and sense of failure. Would they have been as happy if we were still together? Maybe...probably. But would her parents have been? Probably not. And that would have made her much unhappier, much more stressed in the long run. That would never have been fair to her. Not for one minute.
Honestly, when the judge told me that I would have to allow AJ overnight visitation, I felt like I was being punished, like the entire world was going to stop twirling on its axis. There was nothing worse than taking my baby away from me, even for one night. The first night he took her I cried myself to sleep. I had to create a ritual just to keep my mind occupied and off her. Flash forward three years and some weeks I am counting down the days to the weekend because I need a fucking break. I love my girl, she is my whole heart, the very best thing I have ever done, but she is tiring! She's like me when I was that age, non-stop chatter and motion and need. I love her more than I could ever articulate, but mama needs a break! I need room to breathe and feel 26 years old for 10 minutes. Yes, I miss her when she is gone, yes I feel like I have lost a limb, but I am so grateful now that I worked hard to maintain her relationship with her father. And yes, I know I am lucky, and I tip my hat to all the single moms who don't have the option of carting their child off for the weekend. I don't know how you do it!
Coppa talks in one of her blogs about her life happening while she was busying mapping out her plans. She also says the goals she set for herself were achieved, just in different order than she planned, and the order life decided made her a stronger person. I understand that completely. When I was a little girl, I had a fantasy journal (yes, nerd and aspiring writer right here!) and I would write about my life, my dreams, relationships I hoped to have and the ways in which they were to be conducted. Meet a random guy after too many shots in a bar, fall feet over head, be silly and crazy and not cautious, not call my gyn to make sure the med the ER prescribed didn't indeed render my pill virtually ineffective, get pregnant, have mom get sick, turn myself inside out, sideways, upside down, backwards, every which way to make it work with someone who wasn't ready for it, have my mom die before seeing her first grandchild, blow up like a balloon because my kidneys stopped working, have a preemie, having Dan die, becoming a single mom...yeah none of that was in my cards. I was going to go to college, finish with my Journalism degree, meet a guy while I was there, get married out of school, have some babies, live in a house by the ocean, and be in total bliss for life. I realize that is a crock of shit, and the person I am now would never be satisfied with a middle school girl's ideals for her life. I also think in that same journal I noted that I would never have sex with a guy unless I had been in a serious relationship with him for two years...for anyone that knows me, that is so beyond laughable I can't even comment. But that just further proves the point of how unrealistic the goals I set for myself were. I met a guy my freshman year of college. I liked him, there was an instant connection, and I had my timeline, so of course I had to pursue, time was a-wasting. I dropped the L-bomb, and he hightailed it out of my life. I can understand it, I was too intense. I was trying to create a life I obviously wasn't meant to live. If I had meant to do any of the things I had created for myself over 10 years ago in my journal, I would be doing them. Plain and simple.
As life would have it, I was meant to take a break from school to try and find the person that had become jumbled up in a mass of college living-too much freedom, alcohol, random boys and not much studying or caring. Instead of finding the me I thought I was, I found a new (and hopefully improved version to those that knew me back in the day) me. I had to stumble along the way, into a seedy bar every night, partying till 4 AM only to head to work at 7 AM, I had to get involved with inappropriate people and hurt my mother (still one of my deepest regrets.) I had to be young and free and in my 20's. Then, like a bomb, my world exploded. I was 22 and in crazy and drama filled love, with the best friends and very little debt, a job I loved and then I was pregnant. BOOM- in one instant, a life I had thought was pretty damn fun and heading in a good direction was over. And life moved in another direction faster than I could keep up.
Kayla was here in short order. Mom was gone. I had to adapt, and survive. And you know what, its what I was meant for. Miss Kayla, with her eyes and her small hands that fit so perfectly in mine, and her questions that just floor me, and her smell and her voice, and her perfection-her- its what was intended for me. No question in my mind, not for one moment. She has been my destiny since before I ever imagined her into existence. She is the reason for me. And in the mornings, when we are bundled into the car, and she requests her new obsession, Natasha Bedingfield's "Pocketful of Sunshine," or her "sunshine song" as she calls it, I know me and her alone is the will of whatever higher power there is. I do resent it sometimes, like the other morning when Kayla wanted a donut and I had to count change to get her one, because frankly, paychecks aren't stretching nearly far enough, but for better or for worse, its me and her. And if its that way forever, thats fine. And if its not, thats fine too. We Hewlitt women, we roll with the punches. We adapt. We don't give up when things look dismal. If there is one thing that Kayla's conception, pregnancy, birth and life has taught me so far, besides the fact that I am stronger than I realize most days, is that its that we don't always have control over what life wants for us. And that's okay by me. Because everyday with my baby girl is an adventure, and I can't wait to see where we end up, 6 months from now, a year from now, 5 years from now.
So have I accomplished my timeline? I haven't finished my degree...trying my damndest to get back into it...no husband, or boyfriend, to even speak of...I have my own house and my own car...we're close to the ocean...but I have Kayla, and that cancels out any other goal I have yet to achieve. I am raising a person. I am responsible for someone else. I am needed and loved just because. Thats powerful stuff. So I say, screw the timeline. Live the life you are intended to live. And enjoy the ride.
From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I think, in a lot of ways I was unwilling to admit at the time and for a long time afterward, I knew I would be right where I am today, raising Kayla on my own. Yes, AJ and I share custody, yes she loves her daddy, yes I get child support, yes I have it better than 90% of single moms in that respect, but at the end of the day, every week day I am alone raising her. I have my family always willing to help in whatever way they can, but my own pride and need to accept responsibility for the life I created doesn't often allow me to take advantage of that. But, in the end, and in the beginning, its me and Kayla. Love it or hate it, I am the one who is the fixer of the boo boos, the lay-er down of the law, the calm in the storm, the voice of reason. Yes, when I found out I was pregnant, this is the life I knew I would have. Don't get me wrong, I wanted the two parent family, the textbook definition of a "perfect" life, with the three of us around the dinner table sharing our days, Kayla's toys and clothes and other accessories of life strewn from one end of the house to other, hell even another baby by now.
Do I think we could have been happy? Yes, or if not, we could have put on the facade of happy. Do I think we are all better off now? Yes. Kayla has two parents that are over the moon for her, are friends to each other, co-parents in the truest sense, and two bedrooms- one Elmo, one Cinderella, one backyard with a jungle gym, one with a plastic house and a slide. More clothes and books and toys than any child should ever have. She can spell her name. She can recite her ABC's, her numbers to ten in English and Spanish, knows her colors and her shapes. By all accounts, we are doing something right. Her three years of life have been pretty happy, despite the ugliness of the first months of AJ's and I's break-up, and my overwhelming sadness and sense of failure. Would they have been as happy if we were still together? Maybe...probably. But would her parents have been? Probably not. And that would have made her much unhappier, much more stressed in the long run. That would never have been fair to her. Not for one minute.
Honestly, when the judge told me that I would have to allow AJ overnight visitation, I felt like I was being punished, like the entire world was going to stop twirling on its axis. There was nothing worse than taking my baby away from me, even for one night. The first night he took her I cried myself to sleep. I had to create a ritual just to keep my mind occupied and off her. Flash forward three years and some weeks I am counting down the days to the weekend because I need a fucking break. I love my girl, she is my whole heart, the very best thing I have ever done, but she is tiring! She's like me when I was that age, non-stop chatter and motion and need. I love her more than I could ever articulate, but mama needs a break! I need room to breathe and feel 26 years old for 10 minutes. Yes, I miss her when she is gone, yes I feel like I have lost a limb, but I am so grateful now that I worked hard to maintain her relationship with her father. And yes, I know I am lucky, and I tip my hat to all the single moms who don't have the option of carting their child off for the weekend. I don't know how you do it!
Coppa talks in one of her blogs about her life happening while she was busying mapping out her plans. She also says the goals she set for herself were achieved, just in different order than she planned, and the order life decided made her a stronger person. I understand that completely. When I was a little girl, I had a fantasy journal (yes, nerd and aspiring writer right here!) and I would write about my life, my dreams, relationships I hoped to have and the ways in which they were to be conducted. Meet a random guy after too many shots in a bar, fall feet over head, be silly and crazy and not cautious, not call my gyn to make sure the med the ER prescribed didn't indeed render my pill virtually ineffective, get pregnant, have mom get sick, turn myself inside out, sideways, upside down, backwards, every which way to make it work with someone who wasn't ready for it, have my mom die before seeing her first grandchild, blow up like a balloon because my kidneys stopped working, have a preemie, having Dan die, becoming a single mom...yeah none of that was in my cards. I was going to go to college, finish with my Journalism degree, meet a guy while I was there, get married out of school, have some babies, live in a house by the ocean, and be in total bliss for life. I realize that is a crock of shit, and the person I am now would never be satisfied with a middle school girl's ideals for her life. I also think in that same journal I noted that I would never have sex with a guy unless I had been in a serious relationship with him for two years...for anyone that knows me, that is so beyond laughable I can't even comment. But that just further proves the point of how unrealistic the goals I set for myself were. I met a guy my freshman year of college. I liked him, there was an instant connection, and I had my timeline, so of course I had to pursue, time was a-wasting. I dropped the L-bomb, and he hightailed it out of my life. I can understand it, I was too intense. I was trying to create a life I obviously wasn't meant to live. If I had meant to do any of the things I had created for myself over 10 years ago in my journal, I would be doing them. Plain and simple.
As life would have it, I was meant to take a break from school to try and find the person that had become jumbled up in a mass of college living-too much freedom, alcohol, random boys and not much studying or caring. Instead of finding the me I thought I was, I found a new (and hopefully improved version to those that knew me back in the day) me. I had to stumble along the way, into a seedy bar every night, partying till 4 AM only to head to work at 7 AM, I had to get involved with inappropriate people and hurt my mother (still one of my deepest regrets.) I had to be young and free and in my 20's. Then, like a bomb, my world exploded. I was 22 and in crazy and drama filled love, with the best friends and very little debt, a job I loved and then I was pregnant. BOOM- in one instant, a life I had thought was pretty damn fun and heading in a good direction was over. And life moved in another direction faster than I could keep up.
Kayla was here in short order. Mom was gone. I had to adapt, and survive. And you know what, its what I was meant for. Miss Kayla, with her eyes and her small hands that fit so perfectly in mine, and her questions that just floor me, and her smell and her voice, and her perfection-her- its what was intended for me. No question in my mind, not for one moment. She has been my destiny since before I ever imagined her into existence. She is the reason for me. And in the mornings, when we are bundled into the car, and she requests her new obsession, Natasha Bedingfield's "Pocketful of Sunshine," or her "sunshine song" as she calls it, I know me and her alone is the will of whatever higher power there is. I do resent it sometimes, like the other morning when Kayla wanted a donut and I had to count change to get her one, because frankly, paychecks aren't stretching nearly far enough, but for better or for worse, its me and her. And if its that way forever, thats fine. And if its not, thats fine too. We Hewlitt women, we roll with the punches. We adapt. We don't give up when things look dismal. If there is one thing that Kayla's conception, pregnancy, birth and life has taught me so far, besides the fact that I am stronger than I realize most days, is that its that we don't always have control over what life wants for us. And that's okay by me. Because everyday with my baby girl is an adventure, and I can't wait to see where we end up, 6 months from now, a year from now, 5 years from now.
So have I accomplished my timeline? I haven't finished my degree...trying my damndest to get back into it...no husband, or boyfriend, to even speak of...I have my own house and my own car...we're close to the ocean...but I have Kayla, and that cancels out any other goal I have yet to achieve. I am raising a person. I am responsible for someone else. I am needed and loved just because. Thats powerful stuff. So I say, screw the timeline. Live the life you are intended to live. And enjoy the ride.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Ocean...
When I was a little girl, I used to go watch the waves crash against the rocks of the beach with my aunt. In mist, in downpours, in soul shattering storms, even in a hurricane, there we were, watching and marveling. These moments are the ones that sealed my love of the ocean. In fact, my entire family loved the ocean. I am the daughter and granddaughter of fishermen, men who made the water their home when their land locked ones became too chaotic, or too sad, or too overwhelmingly anything. One summer for my 70 something grandfather's birthday, all the grandchildren donned suits and waded into the water with Pop, his two canes pocking the sand with small circles as well all trekked into the surf. He taught us, all of the adults taught us, to love the water, but most especially the ocean. My mom was laid off one summer, and everyday we all went to the beach. We just soaked in the salt, and the expansiveness of the horizon. My uncle owned a boat, and we spent a lot of time in it, cruising and laughing and loving each other. To me, growing up, the water wasn't about swimming, or sea animals, or science. It was about love and family. Because where my family was was the water. The ocean. And it seemed to just fit, to be the natural place for us to be. Situated in a coastal town, loving and living. When my PopPop got sick, my aunts and my mom would meet on the beach for talks about his care, life, their grief, whatever those pre-dawn talks amounted to. My mom began to collect shells on the shore in those days. By Christmas, everyone had shell wreaths with shells from our own beach. I still have one hanging in my bathroom today.
When my mom passed away, there seemed like nowhere on earth that I got her back, even for a second. Not one place where I could remember her for who she was before the illness came, before it invaded every part of her rapidly and thoroughly, leaving no room for me to recognize the person I love. One day, overwhelmed, exhausted, sick with grief and pregnancy and worry, I went to sit at the beach. Just to escape my world, to find that peace I knew looking at those rocks where the surf crashed when I was a little girl. I found the place, at last, where my mom was. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. Her shells. Her sand. Her surf. Her picnic tables. Even the house she rented for a Halloween party that left my father hitch-hiking in a Batman suit at 3 AM. It was her, at last. The mom I knew instead of the vessel of pain and incomprehension in a hospital bed. After she died, it was where I came to feel her, to talk to her. To be with her again. I have been to her grave. I go every holiday, but she is not there. No, for me, my mom is the ocean.
When my mom passed away, there seemed like nowhere on earth that I got her back, even for a second. Not one place where I could remember her for who she was before the illness came, before it invaded every part of her rapidly and thoroughly, leaving no room for me to recognize the person I love. One day, overwhelmed, exhausted, sick with grief and pregnancy and worry, I went to sit at the beach. Just to escape my world, to find that peace I knew looking at those rocks where the surf crashed when I was a little girl. I found the place, at last, where my mom was. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. Her shells. Her sand. Her surf. Her picnic tables. Even the house she rented for a Halloween party that left my father hitch-hiking in a Batman suit at 3 AM. It was her, at last. The mom I knew instead of the vessel of pain and incomprehension in a hospital bed. After she died, it was where I came to feel her, to talk to her. To be with her again. I have been to her grave. I go every holiday, but she is not there. No, for me, my mom is the ocean.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Stuck in quicksand...
I feel sometimes that everyone around me is changing and growing and I am standing still. My sister and brother in law just celebrated their year anniversary and welcomed a son, my cousin and her husband just celebrated a year and soon, their son will be here. I was catching up with old friends the other day, and two of them have gotten married. My best friend from college has a child and has gotten married. More and more wedding invitations and baby shower invites flood my mailbox these days.
I have to admit, I am starting to feel a little left out. I love being a mother, it is without a doubt the most profoundly moving, difficult and beautiful thing I have ever done, or will do, but I am also a woman, a woman who wants and deserves love. More than the love Kayla has for me, more than the love of my family and friends. I want romantic love. And lately it feels like it will never happen.
I don't know how to fix this problem. I don't have much of an opportunity to meet men at my job. Childcare doesn't generally attract available men. I go out on the weekends and the market seems so dismal. I used to love the thrill of the chase, the flirty looks across the bar, the seductive dancing, the buying of drinks and applying of lip gloss. The enticement of a stranger. The carelessness of attraction. I still love the social scene, going to a bar, dancing, but I am not getting anywhere. The men are not interested in a long term connection, only a one night stand, someone to kiss in the dark corners, to stumble out of the bar with. And I can't go there. Not now, not when I have the example I have to be to Kayla in my head at all times. I am not afforded friviolity anymore. I have to be wise in my love life, so as to not harm Kayla. I won't have guys going in and out of her life, toying with her emotions and confusing her. I also strive to find someone who loves Kayla, loves her like I love her, like everyone in her life loves her. This task seems impossible. To find a man, my age, reasonably attractive, with a job, intelligent, who loves Kayla and who treats me well, who is ready for the responsibilities of us, our baggage, our craziness, seems like it will never happen.
I have recently sought an alternative dating experience. I signed up for online dating, at the urge of my boss. I have had lots of emails, and one seems worthwhile. But I am so nervous, and hesistant, about bridging the gap between a computer screen and real life. There is no accounting for accuracy, truth and of course, the ever elusive chemistry. So maybe it happens, maybe it doesn't.
In the meantime, how do I get over the feeling of being stuck in quicksand- not being able to move from where I am? The whole world seems to be in love and procreating...where do I sign up for that? I have a child, maybe I shouldn't complain when there are some people who can't have children, but I want more, and I want that unspoken support system of a significant other. I want to be worn out from children using me as their own personal jungle gym all day and come home to someone who will just wordlessly soothe me. I want things to be easier, even if that means just knowing that someone else will read Kayla a book tonight so I can have five minutes peace. I'm not pretending every day will be great, love is messy sometimes, a lot of times, and I crave that too. I am ready for all of it, that human connection in all its complexities.
So here I am, ready for the next step. I've done all I can do on my own. I have a house, I have a car, I am in school, I am raising a child...so now I am ready to carve a corner out for love, once again.
I have to admit, I am starting to feel a little left out. I love being a mother, it is without a doubt the most profoundly moving, difficult and beautiful thing I have ever done, or will do, but I am also a woman, a woman who wants and deserves love. More than the love Kayla has for me, more than the love of my family and friends. I want romantic love. And lately it feels like it will never happen.
I don't know how to fix this problem. I don't have much of an opportunity to meet men at my job. Childcare doesn't generally attract available men. I go out on the weekends and the market seems so dismal. I used to love the thrill of the chase, the flirty looks across the bar, the seductive dancing, the buying of drinks and applying of lip gloss. The enticement of a stranger. The carelessness of attraction. I still love the social scene, going to a bar, dancing, but I am not getting anywhere. The men are not interested in a long term connection, only a one night stand, someone to kiss in the dark corners, to stumble out of the bar with. And I can't go there. Not now, not when I have the example I have to be to Kayla in my head at all times. I am not afforded friviolity anymore. I have to be wise in my love life, so as to not harm Kayla. I won't have guys going in and out of her life, toying with her emotions and confusing her. I also strive to find someone who loves Kayla, loves her like I love her, like everyone in her life loves her. This task seems impossible. To find a man, my age, reasonably attractive, with a job, intelligent, who loves Kayla and who treats me well, who is ready for the responsibilities of us, our baggage, our craziness, seems like it will never happen.
I have recently sought an alternative dating experience. I signed up for online dating, at the urge of my boss. I have had lots of emails, and one seems worthwhile. But I am so nervous, and hesistant, about bridging the gap between a computer screen and real life. There is no accounting for accuracy, truth and of course, the ever elusive chemistry. So maybe it happens, maybe it doesn't.
In the meantime, how do I get over the feeling of being stuck in quicksand- not being able to move from where I am? The whole world seems to be in love and procreating...where do I sign up for that? I have a child, maybe I shouldn't complain when there are some people who can't have children, but I want more, and I want that unspoken support system of a significant other. I want to be worn out from children using me as their own personal jungle gym all day and come home to someone who will just wordlessly soothe me. I want things to be easier, even if that means just knowing that someone else will read Kayla a book tonight so I can have five minutes peace. I'm not pretending every day will be great, love is messy sometimes, a lot of times, and I crave that too. I am ready for all of it, that human connection in all its complexities.
So here I am, ready for the next step. I've done all I can do on my own. I have a house, I have a car, I am in school, I am raising a child...so now I am ready to carve a corner out for love, once again.
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