Parts of Me

Part two of my awesome car trip with EC and RC was the drive home, where we dove into meatier topics. Not on purpose, but as part of a flow of good friends in a car for more than three hours and the conversations that emerge. We talked openly about our parents and how our experiences as children, combined with our parents’ parenting has molded our parenting and the anxieties or habits we work with.

I confided that I spend a good amount of time being concerned that Miss Red will hate me – I know, it drives my husband crazy – but I do. I fear that she’ll never want to be a part of my life, never want to see me again and just turn her back on me. Why? I don’t know.

While sharing this, EC asked me something I had never considered: Think of the good she’ll take from you, and how she’ll love those parts of you.

I had never considered that there might be parts of me my daughter would love. Maybe I’m so caught up in my entire love for her, that I had an “all or nothing” mentality about this emotion – that she would either love me or hate me, and not, what is probably true, that she’ll love parts of me and hate (maybe not) parts of me, too.

Can I share what a relief that was? That that sentence, in the moment, and in retrospect, washed away layers of anxiety? Again, why? I myself have no issues with love. I love myself, I know I’m lovable, I have loving relationships. It’s this seed, this stick, this root, this essence, this unnamed that drives me to the brink of tears when thinking of my daughter.

Hush, little baby.

Honestly, what it comes down to is that I haven’t quite learned to be in the moment with my daughter. I can be present, but if I’m honest, there is that part of me, that clinging, hopeful, needy part that is wrapped up in real and imagined interactions, that cries softly please love me.

– MD

2011
11/07
CATEGORY
Motherhood
TAGS
2 comments

When I Am Old and Gray

I was on a longish car ride with EC and RC this weekend, and we briefly touched upon our hopes for when we are older and retired. Our dreams of drinking coffee, meeting with friends, volunteering, and generally being free.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized that none of us included our children in this equation. None of us mentioned grandchildren or our own children visiting, or any other iteration of seeing them. Maybe recent generations have come to realize and not expect that their children will care for them in their old age. I tend to whine a little that when Miss Red is a teenager she’ll hate me, but I honestly can’t imagine her as an adult – which, God willing, she’ll get to be – and how she’ll want to spend time with me.

Me? I’ve got my days planned out. They involve my husband and friends, with volunteering and auditing classes at UW-Madison tucked into coffee shop visits and walks. Not unlike what I do now, minus the auditing thing.

When I’m old and gray, who will be part of this story with me? When I’m old and gray, who will help me write that chapter of my life while my daughter will have cast hers for decades?

– MD

2011
11/06
CATEGORY
Motherhood
TAGS

3 comments

Away

I’m experiencing internet issues and am typing this on my phone, but still want a daily post for NaBloPoMo. Here it is, with more tomorrow to make up for this.

– MD

2011
11/05
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS
Leave a comment

Tit for Tat

My husband and I, while sedentary bookworms at heart, like to do stuff. In fact, one of us likes to leave the house each night – to exercise, go to the library, a coffee shop, or even run errands. When Miss Red was an infant and we were both home with her, we gave one another an hour or two each day to leave the house – a necessity to prevent insanity.

Art by Colin Holden

Our schedules are pretty standard these days – one day a week CH has choir, I hit a yoga class one night a week, we both exercise one additional night each, and he goes out each Thursday night with other friends.

What has always been important to us is equality in parenting. Nothing can ever be equal, but we each do our best to spend equal amounts of time with Miss Red and give one another equal amounts of time away. Thus, we take turns bathing her and putting her to sleep, getting up in the middle of the night, and sleeping in on the weekends. We like it, and it works for us. But what can sometimes emerge is a “tit for tat” mentality that we are both guilty of – the “I gave her a bath last time, so it’s your turn,” or “you were gone all day, so I’m going to check out tonight.” Again, it mostly works and there are no hard feelings, but I know at some point that will disappear – as Miss Red becomes more independent and there isn’t so much management of her needs.

For now, even with hiccups, it works. Does something like this work for you?

– MD

2011
11/04
CATEGORY
Parenthood
TAGS

2 comments

First Responders

I’m not doing too bad for being up at 2 a.m. changing poopy sheets. CH and I were awoken last night by Miss Red crying, “I need to go potty,” and I asked him to help her. I heard commotion and headed downstairs to find Miss Red crying and CH frustrated. “Can you change her sheets?”

Sleeping Beauty

With two Pull-Ups still unused, Miss Red decided last week that she didn’t want to wear them at nighttime. Since she stays dry through the night 99% of the time, we didn’t push the issue. I knew we were taking a risk, but I was glad to cross off Pull-Ups from the shopping list.

I changed her sheets while CH dealt with changing her and wiping her down. She was so upset – I’m guessing a mix of embarrassment and being tired, and it was a struggle to get her do anything. Her room smelled. The bathroom smelled. When we put her back into bed she still refused to take off her pajama top, which was soaked, and I convinced her to change shirts by letting he wear her Solidarity t-shirt, which she calls her “Be Nice to Teachers” shirt. Heh heh.

I tucked her in, checking her forehead, and she fell asleep immediately. CH put the sheets and blankets in the washing machine and needed to shower himself. As the first responder, he was dirty for sure.

Back in my own bed, adrenaline had made me Awake, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning I made my way onto our couch. The experience reminded me of when I was home on maternity leave with Miss Red, and she simultaneously pooped onto me and puked down my shirt. I had a New Mom Moment of Panic – unaware of what to do. It was gross, but in the end, and even now, I laughed a little bit. It’s par for the course – as newborns move from a bundle of nerves who poop and puke to toddlers who are afraid to poop and puke, our role is to be there and catch it all.

– MD

2011
11/03
CATEGORY
Childhood
Memory
Parenthood
TAGS



Leave a comment

Do You Love Me?

It’s no secret that our daughter prefers my husband. No doubt at all. And why not? He’s a fantastic dad – I mean, really, truly great. In the beginning of this realization I was sad, pouting internally and externally about her crying for him, or just not wanting to be with me. Don’t get me wrong, she still does show affection toward me – we cuddle and read stories and I was the first person she said “I love you” to.

A blurry parade.

But I’m also the person she said to, deadpan, “Mama, I don’t like your face when I’m crying.”

Many people think I’m joking when I say this, but on Monday night/Tuesday morning she was up for about three hours. Fortunately, she was in a good mood, but was just awake. I took a bulk of this time, since CH had attended to her around midnight. I crawled into her bed, and she said, “No, mama, I want dada.” “Why?” I asked. “Because I love him so much.” Foolishly, it being about 2 a.m., asked, “don’t you love me?” Without missing a beat, she replied, “Only a little bit.”

Well, you get what you ask for.

This morning at drop-off, she gave me a little hug. “Where’s my big squeeze?” I asked. “I’m only giving you a little squeeze because I only love you a little bit” she answered.

These statements drive my husband batty. “Be nice to mama” is a common phrase in our house. I honestly don’t know what to do, and generally keep fairly neutral, except for when she’s saying something mean as a form of acting out. I mean, the girl can express her feelings, right? And how many of you love your parents equally? You might love them for different reasons, but don’t you have a favorite? “It will change,” say friends. “She’ll switch back and forth,” they say. I don’t know that. She might, sure, but she might not. For now, I take it as a lesson of something – how one person, created from love, who literally alters your body forever – can also change your heart.

– MD

2011
11/02
CATEGORY
Childhood
Memory
Motherhood
TAGS

4 comments

Boo! And, Challenge Accepted

Ready to see a cute picture of my kid in her Halloween costume? It’s obligatory, right?

Red-headed unicorn

This is honestly the best picture we got, despite Miss Red wearing her costume to two Halloween parties on Saturday and going Trick or Treating last night. What is she? A unicorn. She didn’t like wearing the hood, which was the unicorn part, so we got a lot of, “oh, are you an angel?”

This year was so much more fun to go Trick or Treating. She got it. She would get excited when someone answered the door, and said the whole line, and then, “thank you, Happy Halloween.” After an older neighbor gave her a quarter, she said, “Mama, this holiday is about money and candy.”

Indeed.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

November also marks the beginning of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), which encourages people to write each day. Since I’m not working on a novel, I’ve decided to participate in its online sister, or National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo), which encourages bloggers to post each day. So here goes it! Let’s see if you still want to read my words after a month of daily postings.

– MD

2011
11/01
CATEGORY
Childhood
Parenthood
TAGS


2 comments

Occupy

On Sunday the whole fam jam went to Costco, part of a special day pass dealie. We found it overwhelming and expensive in the end, but, of course, we nabbed some great deals. Miss Red got a case of the gimmies in the toy aisle, and when it was all said and done, we were relieved to leave behind the SUV-sized carts and hurried shoppers.

While we were there I grabbed a winter coat for our little lady. She has a few winter coats that are 4T, and while they fit her, they remain a smidge too big and will most likely fit more when it’s still snowing in April (sorry, folks, we do live in Wisconsin). So I found a non-obnoxious purple coat in 3T and threw it in the cart. At the time, I was more annoyed that I hadn’t found one second-hand, but didn’t think much beyond that.

I chose the purple option.

It wasn’t until Monday, back at work, that I realized how nonchalantly I tossed the coat into the cart, adding it to the toilet paper, carrots, diced tomatoes and cereal. A $20 coat. No big deal, right?

Yet, I was transported back to my childhood and the first 10 years or so of my life. Up until middle school my grandparents or great-grandparents purchased my winter coats for me. My grandmother, who has a full-fledged shopping addiction, thought nothing of buying me a ton of clothes, such a every color of a turtleneck in my size. They outfitted me for much of my childhood, until I moved to Milwaukee. At that time I moved in with my mom and soon-to-be stepdad. Money was tight, no doubt. I remember going shopping for back to school clothes and getting two pairs of pants. Two. And one fall, in fourth or fifth grade, the check from my great-grandparents hadn’t come yet for my winter coat, so I went to school in an old coat of my mom’s for a while. It was a white, shaggy coat, clearly not intended for a child, and I was mocked.

All day Monday I was thrown back into that very real time of my life where we really didn’t have very much money. There was always food on the table and our essentials were taken care of, but something like a winter coat made a difference in a budget.

++++++++++++++++++

There are people now, all over the world, participating in the Occupy Wall Street movement. There are various reasons why people are camping out: disgust at corporate greed, lack of health care, to be part of a movement, to instill democracy, to protest rising costs of education… the list goes on. I get it. I see how bad things have gotten, and I’m only 33. I see how different life might be for our daughter, and we think nothing of buying a $20 coat, when that, at one time, meant everything to my parents.

What was the difference between wearing my mom’s coat and me tossing one for Miss Red on the Costco pile? Well, there are many factors, and I’m sure my parents – all four of them – would have input, but I can say that education was a key factor in what changed. My parents finishing their education and me having access to great schools, including UW-Madison.

Where are we now? We’re comfortably middle class, but that means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. We live in a 1,200-square foot house on a wonderfully quirky street, but for many people it would be too lacking, too little, too quirky. What does middle class mean for me? For me, it’s the amazing luxury that a $20 winter jacket for my daughter is a simple reality, a reality most of the world doesn’t have.

– MD

2011
10/25
CATEGORY
Memory
TAGS

Leave a comment

The Loves of My Life

Dear Readers,

This is what I get to come home to. This is what makes me smile, laugh, cry, raise my voice and sing songs.

The loves of my life, photo by EC

Thank you, Universe.

– MD

2011
10/17
CATEGORY
Memory
Motherhood
4 comments

Here and Now

As I was praying for my daughter to fall asleep, I came across Emily Rapp’s article in today’s New York Times, “Notes From a Dragon Mom.” It’s a gut-wrenching essay about being in the moment for her terminally ill child. Each sentence sticks to me, but this paragraph, in particular, levels me:

And there’s this: parents who, particularly in this country, are expected to be superhuman, to raise children who outpace all their peers, don’t want to see what we see. The long truth about their children, about themselves: that none of it is forever.

I’m not one to compare myself to other moms. I don’t really care about being a “supermom” or a woman who “has it all,” because I don’t know what that means and thankfully, feel like I have a lot. Wait – to be honest, I do envy women who don’t “look” like they’ve had children, while I no longer can wear yoga pants in public. But that’s my deal. I digress.

Round and round we go, photo by EC

Rapp’s story serves as that snap-of-the-fingers to stop wishing now away.

Check out her story, and remember that right now, right here, is all we have.

– MD

2011
10/16
CATEGORY
Memory
Parenthood
TAGS
2 comments

2012 Listen to Your Mother Cast Member