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.

to record or not to record

Tomas (20 march 2012)

most important

(sorry for the unrelated visuals, isabelle had a belated birthday party a few weeks ago. we made perfume. great fun!)

quickly, quickly, before the baby comes out and i forget everything i know (why does giving birth do that to me? well, who knows, maybe not this time...), here are in the disorder the most important things i have learnt from this whole 'let's see what happens if my entire life falls apart' year.

1) no matter how madly the world is turning (spinning and spitting out in its wake some enraged ex-husbands, collapsing finances, distressed children, reluctant friends, complex new relationships filled with more land-mines than your average 20th century battlefield, etc.), there is a quiet place right at the heart of the storm where i can be totally and utterly safe. and despite repeated claims to the contrary, i do know how to get there.

2) there is simply no excuse for not doing my thing. fear is not an excuse. timing is not an excuse. age is not an excuse. work is not an excuse. money is not an excuse. children are not an excuse. a husband is not an excuse. the absence of a husband is not an excuse. neither the presence nor the lack of anything is an excuse. there is simply no excuse.

3) there is a difference between asking for help and asking to be carried. the former is an empowering and real way of taking care of oneself. the latter is slavery in disguise both for the person asking and for the one being asked.

4) i am totally blessed. i live the life i want to live. the choices i make fit me like a glove. my life is filled to the brim with everything that i love (time, love, connection, fresh air, movement, laughter and passion) and it has remarkably little in it that i don't (and i'm working damn hard on learning to love that too ;-). it's actually possible to be in an 'officially' crappy situation, and have a total ball. and if that's possible, then hey, the sky's the limit i say ... (note that i'm also aware of the fact that it's very very possible to be in an 'officially' great situation and be totally miserable, been there, done that, still, though, it's kind of fun to figure out this side of it)

5) having friends is a great great treasure.

there must be more things. if i remember them, i'll make sure to write them down. so you can all remind me, when i forget.

portable comfort zone

for a couple of years now, i've been getting an e-mail every day from Scott Noelle, teaching me bite by bite how to parent with more gentleness and grace. it's been an invaluable companion on many many days, uncannily hitting the nail on the head time and again, always talking about precisely that which i am struggling with.

of course it did not take me long to realise that the daily groove is not just about parenting. it applies to every bit of life, and every single relationship you might be involved in, including the one with yourself.

and today, once again, the daily groove delivered the right goods. it suggested that since it is not always possible for circumstances to keep us within our comfort zone, it might be helpful if we were to carry a portable comfort zone with us at all times. concretely, the brilliant suggestion was to take a card and write on it ten things that bring you back into your comfort zone within a few moments, including a good mix of outdoor/indoor, with/without children, day/night and at least one thing that can be done entirely in one's head.

i didn't get around to finding a card today (because i was busy taking good care of myself so i wouldn't give birth while dying of the flu) (and yes, that is a good excuse), but i thought i would share my list here.

my portable comfort zone

1) metta meditation (may I be happy, may I be safe, may I be healthy, may I be peaceful)
2) tonglen meditation (inhale pain/discomfort/fear/etc. from all who suffer, exhale spaciousness/peace/relief for all)
3) drink a large glass of lukewarm water with some drops of fresh lemon juice
4) sing out loud
5) hang upside down
6) dance or shake (preferably to music)
7) cuddle a lovely person (if available)
8) eat an apple

9) open my mouth and make whatever noise wants out.
10) step outside. breathe.

11) breathe.

What about you? what does your portable comfort zone look like?

in-line skating (I)

Toini is learning in-line skating (i found a pair of never-yet-used ones at the kringloop for a few cents. god bless the kringloop). out of a two-hour session in the park, he spends approximately five minutes on the skates, and the remaining 1 hour and 55 minutes either falling down or getting up. or sitting on the floor wailing. he cannot do it, he says. he will never learn it, he says. everyone else knows how to do this, he says, except him. it hurts, he says. he hates it, he says. he wants to go home, he says. now, he says. he shouts, he cries, he swears. then he gets up and tries again.

looking at him, i don´t think ´he will never learn this´. i don´t think ´he is wasting his time´. i help him up, hold him when he´s down, and simply witness his incredible learning drive. and i know he will soon, very soon, not even believe us when we tell him that there was a time, not so long ago, when he thought this was soooo hard.

...

what a mirror my children provide. in these last few weeks, or days (last days! last days!) before the birth of my third baby, i too, am trying to learn a life skill that i find very very hard to master. one that i really want to master, because i can no longer live without. and it´s true that out of any two hours of learning, i probably spend five minutes on my psychic in-line skates, and 1 hour and 55 minutes falling down, wailing, and getting up again. and yes, i hate it. and yes, it hurts, and no, i will never be able to do it, and yes this makes me indignant, and angry and frustrated, and sad. and yes, i curse and i scream and i cry. and shake my fists at the universe.

but then i do get up. and i try again. and the minutes on the skates are bliss. and maybe, just maybe, it will be 6 minutes soon, rather than 5. maybe it was six minutes today. and who ever said that this is not learning?????

shoot

had the most amazing photo shoot this morning. with a very talented photographer. smiling all day now. because of the sunshine. the snow. the music. inside and out. life moving through me. Cesaria Evora and Wisława Szymborska are dead. and still. there is life moving through me. and tears taste good too.

here is a documentary. and here a bit of music.

3 february

what is wonderful about the '3 things february' is that it turns out i actually have to choose which three things to name. because there are many, many, more. every day. kind of kills the whole idea that my life is so hard. speaking of which:

- here is the first reason to smile today,
- then there is the smell of freshly brewed lapsang souchong which a loving woman made for me, and
- the sight of four delighted homeschooled children on a virginal carpet of fresh snow

3TF

i found this. a beautiful idea. and exactly what this iron-deficient, utterly overwhelmed, recently divorced, completely stressed out, homebusiness running, pregnant mother of almost three needs: irreverent daily gratitude.

so here goes. three things that made me smile today:

- Toini pretending to fart by blowing onto his arm, and doing it so hard that he ended up farting for real. and not a little either.
- Toini being attacked by his own remote control driven robot/dinosaur/monster which he was trying to set up to attack us when we walked out of the living-room.
- the sight of both of my little ones jumping from one frozen molehill to another in a mysterious game of their own, in the middle of a freezing cold but sun-drenched clearing in the woods.

what about you? what made you smile today?

wordless wednesday

angels I

"do you believe in angels?" a friend asked me last night. do i? i believe in this one, flitting through my days, often with her littler companion by her side. i believe in her divinity and her magic, and her earthiness (are angels allowed to be earthy?). "what would you do if you could fly, mama?" she asked me the other day. i thought about it. "if i could fly", i said, "i would try my best not to...". "why?" "because earth-bound is where i need to be, baby... but what about you, my love, what would you do if you coud fly?"

"i would lie down on a cloud and have a little nap, and chat with the birds, and fly to a place where i really want to be in Africa, and i would visit my friend, and i would fly further, i would fly close to the ground, in the midst of a herd of wild horses, then i would land on the back of an elephant to rest a little, and then i would fly high again, until all of Africa was a map at the back of my eye, and finally i would land in an open space with water where the elephants drink, and while i lie there in the sun, i would write a letter to papa, and i would ask a bird to bring it to papa, and throw it through his window, and then i would fly back home to you, mama, and i would lie on the bed with you, and cuddle, and rest from my journey, and read a book together, and be home again."

it sounds tame, my need to be earth-bound. it sounds like a clipped wings answer. it sounds like resignation. but seriously now, do you believe in angels?

insecurity

one of the gorgeous women in my training programme sent me this story.

Twins are talking to each other in the womb:

‘Do you believe in life after birth??’
‘Sure I do’
‘Really? Well, what do you think it looks like then, this life after birth??’
‘I don’t know exactly. But it will be lighter than here. Maybe we’ll get to walk around, and eat with our mouths…’
‘Walk around! You must be kidding, that’s impossible. And eating with our mouths? How? Besides, the umbilical cord is much too short to walk around with…’
‘I think everything will be different, really…’
‘Well, I think that birth is the end of life. I’d rather stay here and stick with what I know.'
‘But we will get to see our mother, and she will take care of us.’
‘Do you believe in a mother? Really? Where is she then?’
‘Here, everywhere, all around us. We are and we live inside her and through her. Without her we wouldn’t exist at all!’
‘Bullshit! I’ve never seen any mother. And I never noticed her either, so she doesn’t exist!... and besides, nobody has ever come back yet to tell the story…’

racing past

this weekend, in the midst of a turmoil of things to do, places to go, people to see, and many internal storms, i finally found my way back to the eye of the cyclone. where everything is quiet. as always.

thank you friends for the good words and the good thoughts.

too much

it's all too much. the children are having their first week doing the lambada between two houses, and they are not coping well, so the nights are broken into pieces and the days are tense and thin. i am totally overworked with the courses of this semester coming to an end and lots of check-up work before the holidays. then there is the flu (and the vile gargle). simple exhaustion.

oh, and i almost forgot, but i am almost seven months pregnant...

so how do you do this again? can you guys remind me? i know there is a way, something about small nurturing steps, little windows of opportunity to be filled with goodness just for me. but i seem to have lost the manual once again. tell me, how do i get out of survival mode? how do i get in touch with the small simple good things?

home-found

what better time to discover an apothecary vocation than at the start of the flu and cold season. sinterklaas must have known this, because the good man presented me with the best gift ever.

this book, based on the bbc show 'grow your own drugs'. i am smitten. and like i said, plenty of patients around to practice on. but i have not forgotten my grand-father's favourite saying 'physician, heal thyself!' (yes, i know it's not actually his saying, but he's the only person i know who said and lived it consistently). which happens to come in handy now that i wake up every morning with a sore throat and a stuffy nose.

and so, with this particularly scary gargle getting ready in the fridge, the children and i went in search of a neti pot. we visited all the indian stores we know (quite a few...), but the only neti pot we found was copper and cost as much as two weeks of food. frustrated and chilled (as in: they were chilled, i was frustrated), we trudged back home...

... where, as is often the case, it turned out i already had exactly what i needed. a little tea-pot that i have known my whole life. straight from the kitchen of the man who healed himself. a true physician's tool.

hand-made

this week for the first time since april, I will sleep for more than three consecutive nights in the same bed. and not just any bed. mine. after months of nomadic divorcing limbo, i finally have a space of my own. as i clear out garbage bag after garbage bag of a life no longer fitting, as i move and rearrange furniture, and burn sage in the newly open spaces, i am overcome by sadness, relief, gratitude and an odd sort of tingling aliveness. reading clarissa pinkola estes' version of the red shoes, i am reminded again and again of the value of the hand-made life. carefully, stitch by stitch. i know there are no shortcuts, no instant fixes. but there is this life of mine, unfolding. and it's so worth showing up for.