We're done having babies. We're stopping at two children. We are clear on this, have been for a long time.
But yesterday, I watched E walk, all nonchalant, pushing a toy and I realized she's almost a toddler. I look at infant pictures of both of our girls and I feel a familiar ache and desire. Our baby is growing up. And: Who else would we make?
Saying "no more babies" sometimes feels like saying "no thank you, I don't want to fall in love again."
Because that's what the first year is about for me, in addition to the NOT SLEEPING and the nursing and the major life adjustment smack-to-the-head of OMG there's a new, totally dependent being that is relying on US, it's about falling deeply, helplessly, irretrievably in love. I know I will love my girls fiercely for the rest of my days but there is nothing like the burning intensity of the first year of their lives. Like most types of love, for me, there has been a strong limerence phase in the first year of mothering before the newness wears off, before familiar patterns emerge and become entrenched, before complexity and routine replace simplicity and miraculous discovery, before development demands separation.
There is loss inherent in every leap, every big moment in life, the passing of my last time in baby-limerence is no exception. After all, part of getting married was accepting that I would not fall in romantic love again, this time is -hopefully -my last time. (Though, I guess you could say you fall in love with your spouse again and again every single day but I might have to slap you if you, in fact, say that.)
I started this blog when Z was about to start walking. The limerence phase was ending, I could feel it. I knew her differentiation was coming; I knew the next year would be full of growth and independence and separation and conflict. I didn't want to let go of those cozy, dependent, baby days.
I still don't.
Showing posts with label video killed the radio star. Show all posts
Showing posts with label video killed the radio star. Show all posts
4/12/10
3/25/10
Last class
Yesterday was Z's last ballet class of the session, which meant parents could come in and watch the last half of class.
We were so excited, she was so excited.
We were so proud, she was so proud.
CG took the afternoon off of work to come and see her. Watching her reach for his hand after she had crossed the floor, we both knew how much it meant to her to have him there.
My mom always said that when she watched me dance, I was the only one on the stage.
That was how I felt yesterday.
We were so excited, she was so excited.
We were so proud, she was so proud.
CG took the afternoon off of work to come and see her. Watching her reach for his hand after she had crossed the floor, we both knew how much it meant to her to have him there.
My mom always said that when she watched me dance, I was the only one on the stage.
That was how I felt yesterday.
2/5/10
Bouncing baby
Some of you will remember that it was about this time last year that I shot a pregnancy workout video with my (now former) boss.
I just got my copy in the mail.
It's a little odd, to say the least, to watch a video of myself, very pregnant, mouth-breathing my way through a workout. And you can go out and buy a copy. (Not that you should! Not that I get any money from it! But it IS a pretty good workout. If I'm correctly remembering the never-ending dinner I ate the night after filming it, I'm pretty sure I burned 4,000 calories during the filming.)
At first blush, I am a little embarrassed by all the awkward moments captured forever on film. There are so many! It's hard to pick one to demonstrate! There's the moment when they do a slow zoom in on my flat, flat a$$. And the several moments when I seem to have forgotten why I'm there and am staring into space. And the many, many times where I am grimacing instead of smiling.
And, of course, there is the fact that they later shot more publicity stills for the cover with a beautiful, photogenic model, one who isn't in the video. I'm sure the publicity stills we shot were too .... blurry, right?
But mostly I am moved by seeing it. It IS the testimonial I was hoping for. Here is E, bouncing around in my taut watermelon belly. Here is me, moving my body, working on being a healthy and strong mama. Here we are, cupped together, but not for long.
Sometimes I lie in bed and feel the striated skin on my belly and marvel at the myriad ways I have been stretched by motherhood. After years of covering my face and groaning while watching dance videos of myself, I watched this video with open eyes and an open heart.
I just got my copy in the mail.
It's a little odd, to say the least, to watch a video of myself, very pregnant, mouth-breathing my way through a workout. And you can go out and buy a copy. (Not that you should! Not that I get any money from it! But it IS a pretty good workout. If I'm correctly remembering the never-ending dinner I ate the night after filming it, I'm pretty sure I burned 4,000 calories during the filming.)
At first blush, I am a little embarrassed by all the awkward moments captured forever on film. There are so many! It's hard to pick one to demonstrate! There's the moment when they do a slow zoom in on my flat, flat a$$. And the several moments when I seem to have forgotten why I'm there and am staring into space. And the many, many times where I am grimacing instead of smiling.
And, of course, there is the fact that they later shot more publicity stills for the cover with a beautiful, photogenic model, one who isn't in the video. I'm sure the publicity stills we shot were too .... blurry, right?
But mostly I am moved by seeing it. It IS the testimonial I was hoping for. Here is E, bouncing around in my taut watermelon belly. Here is me, moving my body, working on being a healthy and strong mama. Here we are, cupped together, but not for long.
Sometimes I lie in bed and feel the striated skin on my belly and marvel at the myriad ways I have been stretched by motherhood. After years of covering my face and groaning while watching dance videos of myself, I watched this video with open eyes and an open heart.
1/25/10
Just like Jaws, with bonus drool
First of all, YAY for goodies! The randomly chosen winner is: FRAN! Well, now, isn't that nice!? If you all don't know, she could use a few goodies right about now. Fran, I'll be contacting you for your address (to stalk you, of course).
And there are more goodies to be had! Check out Michelle and Hillary's goody giveaway (two chances to win!).
Secondly, I have a nasty, messy, miserable cold, complete with pounding sinus headache. Suffice it to say that I'm not sure when the goody package will get out but it will be a while. I don't exactly want to send a bubonic plague package, especially after all that Fran's been through.
And lastly, I cannot get a certain iconic movie theme music out of my head. And this is why:
PS. Notice Mt. Saint Laundry in the background? (Step back! She's going to blow!) If that made you feel just a teensy bit better about the state of your laundry pile, then my work here is done.
And there are more goodies to be had! Check out Michelle and Hillary's goody giveaway (two chances to win!).
Secondly, I have a nasty, messy, miserable cold, complete with pounding sinus headache. Suffice it to say that I'm not sure when the goody package will get out but it will be a while. I don't exactly want to send a bubonic plague package, especially after all that Fran's been through.
And lastly, I cannot get a certain iconic movie theme music out of my head. And this is why:
PS. Notice Mt. Saint Laundry in the background? (Step back! She's going to blow!) If that made you feel just a teensy bit better about the state of your laundry pile, then my work here is done.
7/10/09
Moving on
I leave this house a week from tomorrow.
When Eliza, Zoe and I leave it, it will look like it does now. Like our home. It will be full of our things and our lives. It will look like we could come home to it at any moment.
I will pack only a suitcase (or two).
While Eliza, Zoe and I spend a month at my parents' lake houses in Vermont, CG will be helping the packers and movers, flying to Virginia to paint rooms and unload furniture and make beds, coming to Vermont for a week of much deserved vacation before we all arrive in Virginia toward the end of August, ready to start our new lives there.
I wonder how long it will be before it really, truly sinks in that I will not ever be coming back to this house. Even when our furniture is set up in our new house in Virginia, I don't know if it'll ever register that there isn't still this house, just as I see it now, stuffed with our things, waiting for us to come home.
The changes have been coming for a long time now. We've known "Virginia", "small town", "new house" were all in our future. We've had months and months to prepare. I've spent countless hours studying pictures of our new house. I've planned color schemes and sewn duvet covers. We've picked out paint colors, ordered some new furniture and mentally repurposed our bookshelves and rugs and lamps.
I still can't wrap my head around it.
This home, our first home, will no longer be ours.
I've been weepy about leaving for weeks. It is too small. We're outgrowing it; we'd need to move anyway I tell myself as the tears roll down my cheeks.
I remember walking into our living room for the first time, its robin's egg blue walls- and ceiling- greeting me like a boisterous HELLO!
I was wearing a robin's egg blue shirt that day. It seemed like destiny (though we did repaint it a slightly lighter, calmer shade of blue).
We brought our first baby into this home when I had our second baby in my belly.
We brought our second
and our third babies home to this house.
It feels like this house contains their babyhoods. In my photos and memories, their important moments are colored by the walls behind them, by the view past their faces to the walls and floors and spaces we have loved and banged our fists against and wept on.
I will miss so much about this house. The lawn we replanted (twice) where Zoe learned to walk (and steal dog toys).
I will miss even the things that drive me crazy, like our sole tiny bathroom, where Zoe was potty trained, where I labored with Eliza, where Zoe sings whatever top 40 song we've been dancing to lately while she washes her hands. (Though I don't think Beyonce sings "and then you squeeze them, squeeze them".)
I know that a bigger, in many ways better, house awaits us in Virginia. I just hope it doesn't take too long to feel like home.
When Eliza, Zoe and I leave it, it will look like it does now. Like our home. It will be full of our things and our lives. It will look like we could come home to it at any moment.
I will pack only a suitcase (or two).
While Eliza, Zoe and I spend a month at my parents' lake houses in Vermont, CG will be helping the packers and movers, flying to Virginia to paint rooms and unload furniture and make beds, coming to Vermont for a week of much deserved vacation before we all arrive in Virginia toward the end of August, ready to start our new lives there.
I wonder how long it will be before it really, truly sinks in that I will not ever be coming back to this house. Even when our furniture is set up in our new house in Virginia, I don't know if it'll ever register that there isn't still this house, just as I see it now, stuffed with our things, waiting for us to come home.
The changes have been coming for a long time now. We've known "Virginia", "small town", "new house" were all in our future. We've had months and months to prepare. I've spent countless hours studying pictures of our new house. I've planned color schemes and sewn duvet covers. We've picked out paint colors, ordered some new furniture and mentally repurposed our bookshelves and rugs and lamps.
I still can't wrap my head around it.
This home, our first home, will no longer be ours.
I've been weepy about leaving for weeks. It is too small. We're outgrowing it; we'd need to move anyway I tell myself as the tears roll down my cheeks.
I remember walking into our living room for the first time, its robin's egg blue walls- and ceiling- greeting me like a boisterous HELLO!
I was wearing a robin's egg blue shirt that day. It seemed like destiny (though we did repaint it a slightly lighter, calmer shade of blue).
We brought our first baby into this home when I had our second baby in my belly.
We brought our second
and our third babies home to this house.
It feels like this house contains their babyhoods. In my photos and memories, their important moments are colored by the walls behind them, by the view past their faces to the walls and floors and spaces we have loved and banged our fists against and wept on.
I will miss so much about this house. The lawn we replanted (twice) where Zoe learned to walk (and steal dog toys).
Also, the hallway where Zoe learned that Sweet Dog prefers the blue sippy cup.
I will miss even the things that drive me crazy, like our sole tiny bathroom, where Zoe was potty trained, where I labored with Eliza, where Zoe sings whatever top 40 song we've been dancing to lately while she washes her hands. (Though I don't think Beyonce sings "and then you squeeze them, squeeze them".)
I know that a bigger, in many ways better, house awaits us in Virginia. I just hope it doesn't take too long to feel like home.
6/29/09
Let's stay together
Today is my seven year wedding anniversary.
CG was an academic when we married, a PhD student who hoped to become a professor one day. I saw my life stretching out before me as a professor's wife with all the leather bound books and elbow-patched trappings. I imagined myself pedaling around an idyllic college campus, wondering which young coeds had a crush on my husband.
When we got married, I was a dancer/Pilates instructor/massage therapist/grant writer. I worked 7 days a week and was often gone from the house, with my huge bag full of snacks, meals and changes of clothes, from 7 am to 10 pm. I rarely sat still.
We are not who we used to be.
Getting married is a promise. I didn't quite grasp that it was a promise to stay together as we each grow and change in ways no one could predict.
In a few short weeks, CG is leaving academia, after much tortured soul searching, for his new job in Virginia. He will not be a professor.
I haven't danced, really danced, in over 4 years. I often spend whole days in my 9 x 13 living room.
Last year, CG discovered flying. He now has his private pilot's license and is working toward his instrument rating. I never imagined this as part of our story. My ambivalence about his flying is something we work through. It is worth working through because I love him, pledged to stand beside him as he searches for meaning and joy in his life. It is worth working through because I've never seen him so happy as when he is talking about flying. Except maybe when he's actually flying.
Two years ago, I discovered blogging. I've always kept a journal, working through my thoughts and experiences through writing, wading through words looking for understanding and expression. CG sometimes struggles with this blog. He, like some other friends and family, is more private than me and isn't always comfortable with me sharing personals stories about our family with the interwebs. He's come to accept it because he knows how important it has become to me and wouldn't keep me from something that I care about.
We've come a long way, baby.
Seven years ago today, we were this young, impossibly happy couple who couldn't seem to stop grinning as we pranced our way through our choreographed first dance.
Every time I hear this song on the radio, I remember this day, seven years ago, when we promised to stay together. To support one another. To grow together.
Happy Anniversary, CG.
Let's stay together.
(I couldn't figure out how to get the video onto my computer, so I used our camcorder while it was playing on the TV. That would explain the moment when Eliza fusses halfway through! Somehow, that feels appropriate.)
CG was an academic when we married, a PhD student who hoped to become a professor one day. I saw my life stretching out before me as a professor's wife with all the leather bound books and elbow-patched trappings. I imagined myself pedaling around an idyllic college campus, wondering which young coeds had a crush on my husband.
When we got married, I was a dancer/Pilates instructor/massage therapist/grant writer. I worked 7 days a week and was often gone from the house, with my huge bag full of snacks, meals and changes of clothes, from 7 am to 10 pm. I rarely sat still.
We are not who we used to be.
Getting married is a promise. I didn't quite grasp that it was a promise to stay together as we each grow and change in ways no one could predict.
In a few short weeks, CG is leaving academia, after much tortured soul searching, for his new job in Virginia. He will not be a professor.
I haven't danced, really danced, in over 4 years. I often spend whole days in my 9 x 13 living room.
Last year, CG discovered flying. He now has his private pilot's license and is working toward his instrument rating. I never imagined this as part of our story. My ambivalence about his flying is something we work through. It is worth working through because I love him, pledged to stand beside him as he searches for meaning and joy in his life. It is worth working through because I've never seen him so happy as when he is talking about flying. Except maybe when he's actually flying.
Two years ago, I discovered blogging. I've always kept a journal, working through my thoughts and experiences through writing, wading through words looking for understanding and expression. CG sometimes struggles with this blog. He, like some other friends and family, is more private than me and isn't always comfortable with me sharing personals stories about our family with the interwebs. He's come to accept it because he knows how important it has become to me and wouldn't keep me from something that I care about.
We've come a long way, baby.
Seven years ago today, we were this young, impossibly happy couple who couldn't seem to stop grinning as we pranced our way through our choreographed first dance.
Every time I hear this song on the radio, I remember this day, seven years ago, when we promised to stay together. To support one another. To grow together.
Happy Anniversary, CG.
Let's stay together.
(I couldn't figure out how to get the video onto my computer, so I used our camcorder while it was playing on the TV. That would explain the moment when Eliza fusses halfway through! Somehow, that feels appropriate.)
4/29/09
Aaaaalllllll the girls were dancing
Today is International Dance Day.
It is also Zoe's third birthday (but since we celebrated it over a week ago, we mostly celebrated International Dance Day instead).
Always start with a saggy butt shot, I say.
(shhhh don't tell anyone but I think I may make it past this day, the last day that I really, really didn't want to give birth.)
It is also Zoe's third birthday (but since we celebrated it over a week ago, we mostly celebrated International Dance Day instead).
Always start with a saggy butt shot, I say.
(shhhh don't tell anyone but I think I may make it past this day, the last day that I really, really didn't want to give birth.)
3/24/09
A glorious beach - household chores + Shamu = a great weekend
music: Me by the Sea by Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians
2/18/09
And she likes to run around
I find it helpful to spend some time watching happy videos of Zoe being silly and adorable when she's really unbearably whiny, slimy with snot and coughing in my face and the day stretches before us like one long dirty crumpled tissue.
This is my favorite at the moment: Zoe at her first tumbling class. She was supposed to actually do specific Toddler Tumbling Tricks across the long trampoline. But Zoe had other ideas. (You gotta love the moment when the "coach" tries to hold her back. GOOD LUCK, BUDDY.)
Her smiles say it all, though. She kept exclaiming "AGAIN! AGAIN!" at the end of every run. We'll be back (assuming they let us!).
This is my favorite at the moment: Zoe at her first tumbling class. She was supposed to actually do specific Toddler Tumbling Tricks across the long trampoline. But Zoe had other ideas. (You gotta love the moment when the "coach" tries to hold her back. GOOD LUCK, BUDDY.)
Her smiles say it all, though. She kept exclaiming "AGAIN! AGAIN!" at the end of every run. We'll be back (assuming they let us!).
1/2/09
#1 on the "Before Leaving California" checklist
#1. Take Zoe to watch the Rose Parade, in person, on the grandstands.
(Stomping to the marching bands with your ladybug purse: TOTALLY NECESSARY.)
(Stomping to the marching bands with your ladybug purse: TOTALLY NECESSARY.)
12/11/08
Dance party
Last night:
I am not as brave as you all think! I chose a blouse-y dress (some might say "muu muu") that maybe would have hid the bump a few weeks ago but these days? NOT SO MUCH. But it was a treat to be out on the town, CG looked so dapper in a three piece suit (What is it about vests on men? I LOVE THEM.) and I was comfortable. Well, about as comfortable as I could be in high heels, on a concrete floor, in a Clockwork Orange-y former power station-turned circus cabaret club complete with nearly nekkid ladies hanging in sheer fabric slings from the ceiling. Add in the loud music and young hipsters drinking all around me and, well, I felt pretty darn wrinkly and shrivelled and yet BLIMPLIKE. It was strange to be without a cocktail in my hand and I had no choice but to accept the forcible offering of a mouthful of cotton candy from the bosom of a woman (?) dressed as Marie Antoinette (don't ask). Also, I have apparently forgotten how to make small talk, witty banter, or even hold BASIC CONVERSATIONS. Oy.
But the only really sad part was: THERE WAS NO DANCING.
I watched the women hanging from the ceiling and later, the circus women dancing in a circle and I felt a pang. I used to do this. Well not this. But something like it. I used to be fit and nimble and OH MY GOD MY HEAD JUST WENT TO "JACK BE NIMBLE". It's way past my bedtime.
This morning:
I got up with Zoe and she wanted a dance party before breakfast. She chose"1234" by Feist, her current favorite dance music. And then she wanted to see the 1234 video on YouTube, the one with the "dancers and tumblers and lady in the blue dress". We watched it and tears sprung from my eyes. I love that video. I want to be in that video, to crawl inside and live in that video. I want to move like that again, be apart of something like that again. Dance.
So we danced.
(By this point, I was tired and Zoe had moved on to "Shut Up and Let Me Go" by the Ting Tings, or, as she calls it, "the stomping song". [Okay, NOT the best choice of lyrics for those of us who hope to instill manners in our children. However, I have held firm and not introduced Zoe to one of my current favorites: the expletive-happy Kate Nash.] Notice also that there is a "baby" having a nap under the blanket on the floor, a toy store threw up behind our leather chair and there is a distinct possibility that my daughter has a shot at starring in "Breakin' 12: Electric Poopaloo".)
I am not as brave as you all think! I chose a blouse-y dress (some might say "muu muu") that maybe would have hid the bump a few weeks ago but these days? NOT SO MUCH. But it was a treat to be out on the town, CG looked so dapper in a three piece suit (What is it about vests on men? I LOVE THEM.) and I was comfortable. Well, about as comfortable as I could be in high heels, on a concrete floor, in a Clockwork Orange-y former power station-turned circus cabaret club complete with nearly nekkid ladies hanging in sheer fabric slings from the ceiling. Add in the loud music and young hipsters drinking all around me and, well, I felt pretty darn wrinkly and shrivelled and yet BLIMPLIKE. It was strange to be without a cocktail in my hand and I had no choice but to accept the forcible offering of a mouthful of cotton candy from the bosom of a woman (?) dressed as Marie Antoinette (don't ask). Also, I have apparently forgotten how to make small talk, witty banter, or even hold BASIC CONVERSATIONS. Oy.
But the only really sad part was: THERE WAS NO DANCING.
I watched the women hanging from the ceiling and later, the circus women dancing in a circle and I felt a pang. I used to do this. Well not this. But something like it. I used to be fit and nimble and OH MY GOD MY HEAD JUST WENT TO "JACK BE NIMBLE". It's way past my bedtime.
This morning:
I got up with Zoe and she wanted a dance party before breakfast. She chose"1234" by Feist, her current favorite dance music. And then she wanted to see the 1234 video on YouTube, the one with the "dancers and tumblers and lady in the blue dress". We watched it and tears sprung from my eyes. I love that video. I want to be in that video, to crawl inside and live in that video. I want to move like that again, be apart of something like that again. Dance.
So we danced.
(By this point, I was tired and Zoe had moved on to "Shut Up and Let Me Go" by the Ting Tings, or, as she calls it, "the stomping song". [Okay, NOT the best choice of lyrics for those of us who hope to instill manners in our children. However, I have held firm and not introduced Zoe to one of my current favorites: the expletive-happy Kate Nash.] Notice also that there is a "baby" having a nap under the blanket on the floor, a toy store threw up behind our leather chair and there is a distinct possibility that my daughter has a shot at starring in "Breakin' 12: Electric Poopaloo".)
7/7/08
Another parenting vow bites the dust.
Parenting Vow #28: I will not ask my child to perform for my own or others' amusement.
2/28/08
Too bad crate training a toddler is not an option.
We knew it would come to this sooner or later.
Do I get any points for not zipping her in when I had the chance?
Do I get any points for not zipping her in when I had the chance?