epiphanies

i had a parenting epiphany last week, and for days now i've been working on various drafts of a wonderful witty wise (and very long) post about it. it's not working. i go to bed at 8 pm (that's in 4 min.). i wake up at 5 am. at no time am i without children. not in the day, not in the night. i nurse approximately 14 out of every 24 hours. i also run a business. and have a social life (of sorts). oh, and i homeschool. the thing is, i'm not complaining. at all. i love my life with passion. i love the mess and the glory and the pain and the stumbling and the learning, and all, all, all of it. but long blog posts (especially if wonderful witty and wise) are just not the thing for me right now. so i'll keep it real short (only another two minutes to go), and hope you get the gist of it.

it went something like this: if you think your baby (toddler, child, teenager, etc.) is robbing you of something essential (sleep, food, adult company, solitude, freedom, etc.), think again. you were given 1000 golden coins, the baby (toddler, child, teenager, etc.) only needs about 50 of them. if you take good care of the 950 left, you'll gladly be giving away what is needed (and hardly feel the pinch). if, however, you have self-care habits equivalent to systematically squandering your wealth left and right, and as a result you are already dirt poor, then yes, it hurts, but don't blame the baby (toddler, etc.). instead thank him or her for the wake-up call. and start taking good care of your wealth/self. 

how to put this into practice: make a list of things you feel your children have taken away from you. Pick the top three. How can you give these back to yourself (without taking anything away from your children)? start right now. 

i'm off to bed now. because my baby is not robbing me of my sleep. 

a walk in the woods with friends

photographs courtesy of Sharon Midcap

what i love about november

so here i am, wandering around thinking about letting go (as befits this particular moon). what is it that i need to let go of right now in order to be ready for the winter ahead? meanwhile, all around me, on every branch, every washing line, every leaf the answer shines, trembles, and slides towards me. in november, the world is covered in tears. and now i remember, the answer is the same every year. what i need to let flow in november, are my tears.

and here is some crying help (for those who, like me, need help): one, two, three

and then there are our two new boys

the oldest...

 

... and the youngest...

 

... both of whom are to blame for the lack of activity around here (more on blame later). the youngest one suckles my time, as much of it as he can get his greedy little mouth on, straight from the nipple into the round universe of his belly. late evening musings, early morning surges of inspiration, quiet afternoon meditations and dead-of-night epiphanies all seem to be swallowed with equal delight, never making it to a piece of paper, let alone a computer screen.

 but i can also blame the other one, my best friend, my soul mate, long searched for in the corners of the visible and invisible world, found at last, almost lost again, and now here, with me, father to my son, sharing my home and my life. i can talk to him now, every hour of every day. and everything i say he wants to hear. so why would i write?

was all this writing born of the necessity of saying that which nobody wanted to hear? is writing nothing but the blind search for an audience. and now that the audience has been found, no more words?

i don't know. we'll see...

catching up

we have a lot of catching up to do, you and i. i will skip the apologies for disappearing, reappearing, repeat. and as i am slowly stretching my muscles into this space once again, bring you some recent goodness from our home. there were bats and cats. both black.