April was a long month

You have no idea how many times I have sat down to write this.
April was a busy and long month for this Mommy. So while I may have neglected this lovely blog, I have been present for a great deal of other things in my life so I am feeling balanced in other ways. So where to begin on catch up… my little baby girl is growing like crazy. I measure her daily by the new depths she can reach, literally, with her eager soft little hands, fishing on countertops with little or no visibility. Just hope, hope and fingertips that little one. Hope for anything “preeatdy” or pretty. something new or interesting within grasp even if it can’t be seen. At least once a week I need to push things further back on the counters or furniture.
Life and work has been constant, sometimes I like that. I often thrive on the fast pace or the nose to the grindstone mentality. the momentum that continues to propel me. Other times of course, I feel as though I never get a break, even a peaceful shower. Part of this is being a Mom and part of this is doing things alone or at least feeling like it.
C and I are going good, steady but not fixed. Couples counseling came to a temporary end. We both have our different opinions as to why it needed to be stopped. Either way we concluded that individual counseling  was the route to go to be in a good place for each other and open to resolution as a couple.
Personally, I feel my spirit and ideals going through growing pains the last month and a half. I am blessed with positive moments and days of peace and revelation coupled with the days that challenge what I thought I wanted or was going to get in life. Either way I am riding the waves of this year. I continue to remind myself daily that this is a process and all of this takes time. Patience is faith in action.

Dear Best friend,

Dear Best friend,
Can you give me a call? After you’re done reading this blog that you don’t even know exists, can you call me? You always say the right thing, in the right tone, in the right way. You are the only person in the whole world that I trust. You are the only friend I’ve ever had that accepts every part of me and is still honest and at times inspired. You make me feel like what I feel is important and that my feelings are concrete not just some self loathing perversion of reality.
I know, I know! Why didn’t I call you…? You have been so busy in your awesome, adventurous, and risk-taking life. Living in such a cool place and pursuing amazing things and with someone you love. I just didn’t want to be that person that just calls and dives into what’s going on and where my heads at and what is wrong. I know you wouldn’t care but I guess it was my pride and hesitation that held me back. I didn’t want to be a bother, or a problem, or drama. So I’ll talk to you soon?
Waiting by the phone,
Your BF, here out of state

I saved this letter to my friend that I love and trust so much. I saved it in my drafts to reread and publish the next day, and she called me that next day, before I could even make post this… So glad she has such perfect timing. 

Living over Expecting and United Nations International day of happiness

Today was the first day of spring, it was also the first ever day of Happiness adopted by the United Nations. Both amazing beautiful things in one day. I only wish I was happier today to enjoy them. It didn’t matter how hard I tried but the second half of the day, the wet warm tears would leak out the bottom of my eyes down my cheeks dripping from my chin unless I was able to slyly take a finger to catch one from the start. It didn’t matter how many “first day of spring” pics people posted on their facebook I was not there. Maybe disappointed in the day’s results, over tired from a sweet, sweet, clingy baby girl. Maybe because I can’t believe this long week is only three days in and the weekend I’m waiting for is actually just more work waiting for me. I try not to cry. I continue to try. I try to make deals with myself… just wait, just wait if you can just not cry now, you can later, or tonight, tonight when it’s time to go to sleep. I am so over crying, I feel like don’t you just finally run out!? Have I not cried enough in this life that I can just call it quits with the wet uncontrollable emotion?! A friend of mine makes me laugh so hard! She calls it a composure problem. I am smiling just typing it this and thinking of her story. She told me she often experiences the same thing… the lack of composure. The “why am I crying during this professional sit-down including critical feedback and things I need to work on”. It’s okay I reassured her, yes strangely I have had the same thing happen. Ugh I am a grown women with years of experience and endurance in my field… why am I crying?! Well, as crazy as I it feels at least this friend opened my eyes that I am not the only one of this weirdness. 
Whether it’s a less than stunning review or a really long day the sadness for me comes from expectation. And I always remember this after the fact and not in the moments creeping up. Expectation has most recently become my number one enemy. Now if I can just get better  about remembering and living this daily. Just Living over expecting. Expecting has sucked so much away from me. I am not referring to joyous expectation obviously. I am talking about the expectation of how the day should look, the expectation of how people should act, the expectation of the way C should treat me, the expectation of applause, or thank you’s or progress. These expectations suck away the self satisfaction, my humility. They strip me of some of my daily happiness and lessen me to bitter, self-loathing, waster-of-positive-efforts. 
So this is has been my current daily work. To expect nothing, do and be with no expectation of reward with no expectation of a return on my investment. And this is where I want to be.   

Yay for elevator buttons!

This last week I took our daughter to a local story time and play/sing-a-long. It was the first time we went to one and it was awesome! There is something so cool about watching your little human in progress mingling about with other little humans in progress! You just watch in awe and wonder why your little one hands out the toys or does or doesn’t do certain things. You see this adorable little thing in action. You start to see the personality and behaviors that you have helped shape with your “no’s” or clapping, your “hold my hand” or sharing lessons. I don’t think she could have loved it more!
It was also a nice day for me because I made a new, precious, happy, memory for myself for a place that held a space of sadness previous to our story time day. Years and years ago I frequented that library for my one on one counseling appointments for domestic violence. One of my previous long term relationships with a girlfriend had resulted in break up and much needed healing. There at the library, I would meet with my domestic violence counselor for an hour of sharing, tears, and coping. Grateful for the support I had not returned to the cold and sad library since. But this week it was branded differently for me. My daughter clapped, and shook bells, yelled and ran. She was in awe of bubbles blown. She gave me new memories that changed my brain’s immediate recall of a depressing period of my life to a joyful start of more story times and happy toddler-elevator-button-pushing.

Comparison is the thief of Joy- and other counseling take-aways

The couples counseling has proved to be very key on my way to personal happiness. Some good takeaways and some good practice on my shut up talking and listen skills (or development of this skill).
There has been much to hear and see but a few key points… there’s no such thing as a perfect Mommy, now that you have kids you never do get a break so not sure why you keep waiting for this “break”, and C and I need to stop competing. Oh and our new Mantra to adopt is “we’ve both had hectic fucking days in whatever fashion they manifested themselves in”. These are just a few of the things that have been earth moving.
I know “Duh!” there is no such thing as a perfect Mommy. I do know that, I’m not trying to be Martha Stewart or even have makeup on all the time. Ugh, but I can’t help but think maybe I don’t understand the level of perfection that I feel IS or IS NOT acceptable. As in, I still think in some weird subconscious way there is still a beautiful perfect Mommy outcome. And while I believe this should look a certain way I continue to fail myself to my own standards So I will need to continue and explore this.
The competing and the daily mantra… I like to think of it as the saying “comparison is the thief of joy”. The saying I’m sure, may be applied to various situations and comparisons including the have and have not’s, but I like to think of it here. In the place of C and I, and our constant comparing of motherly practices, and routines, our comparison of efforts towards maintaining the house, or hours worked outside the home. the comparing (or competing) is stealing so much joy.
Lastly, I wish to share other recent developments through counseling. As much as it hurts my heart, C has pretty much had her ass handed to her in the last two sessions. It hurts my heart as it would anyone that loves their other half so much. I sit there and I just want to protect her and her feelings, I don’t want her to feel alone, silenced or ganged up on. I don’t want her to cry or feel bad. But I also can’t help that our counselor is saying the things I feel, she is mediating the discussion that is needed. I feel understood and most, most importantly I do not feel crazy. I have to remember that even if C doesn’t think it’s fair, this is why we decided to go to counseling. We decided that we need help and mediation in order to be better all the way around. We decided that a unbiased third party could provide us with some important down-to -earth mediation. I feel bad, even writing this now wondering what day C will ask to finally read my blog, what will she feel when she reads this? It’s a painful position to play but I feel like there is a value. Value to the honestly, and the struggle is a small but painful price to gained peace and understanding at home.

Quite possibly day one

Thank goodness for the good break-through conversation…
The other night we went to dinner and it was great. C and I had a real conversation, you know the kind where two people talk back and forth and make eye contact with little or no interruptions? It happened at one of those places you know? Where you go to order food and eat? Except this time I actually got to enjoy and eat my food, and I was able to sip and savor my drink! I was not pleasing the baby each moment, keeping the utensils out of reach, not picking up something off the ground each minute. It was the first time we had been out together like that in all the time since the baby, Yes, that’s right, first time we have had dinner together since becoming Moms. I know… “well there’s your problem!’ you’re thinking, and it is. But once you realize it and then you have so much trash just sitting on the surface of it… It’s taking small steps but to get back.

Wouldn’t have been as successful if it wasn’t for our new practices we are working on. Leaving the past out of it and coming from a place of love. I know, another “Duh” but it’s a lot harder than that as you know. When your mind is in defensive mode most days, the tone of the communication completely changes. You also go in that recall mode where something is said and you are immediately transported to that place where you have harbored the last unresolved issues. All of this compiled on your own challenges of being a resident of life itself makes for a difficult connection. It also means your behavior is now the bad habit you are trying to break. It is taking daily, mindful practice. I would easily consider today officially day one. Coming from a place of love and positive intention. You know, when you don’t assume the worst of someone, when you give them the benefit of the doubt. The grocery item for example. C goes to store, C takes list and returns with shopping done but missing one item /type/brand I put down. I immediately file the experience under “C does not care enough to clearly see, read, and get what I asked for, I don’t ask for much and this is still what happens, so much for me trying and caring”  The experience immediately takes up space in the chapter I have already started for the week, month, etc. Next to not putting the trash out, leaving my lunch out, not fulfilling other promises etc. And yes, I do function and completely believe these things with my whole heart. But during our casual conversation in the beginning, C happens to mention to me, she couldn’t remember what brand I wanted  and was what she got ok? I let her know I put the brand on there. One thing after another we are talking and sharing ideas. Working hard to stay on topic, not cut each other off and to stay out of the past, this means our clean slate we are newly working with has about a 24-36 hr life span. No dragging through the last weeks and months to prove some point or reason our behavior. It will take that daily mindful, pride-less practice but we are going to try our best for the greater good which we had lost sight of. The greater good that slipped through the cracks between what we’ve wanted and needed, the stress and daily pressures. We talked for hours, and sat on the same side of the table. What was supposed to be a nice dinner followed by filling in our calendars and planning our week, turned out to be the best night I’ve had in a long time and the start of day one.

Of the Ranting Collection

I have been working whether the other party agrees or not I have really been trying the last few weeks. But I feel like I have just been waiting, Week one I held out with the mantra that we both have hellish days, and the concept of understanding the other ones unknown plights of that day. Week two, week three I have been reminded we are in this to put our child first over everything including ourselves- an idea that I have heard before but that has really taken life and emerged into a reality. Every week I grasp onto the piece of insight that will inspire my good behavior till the next week. Something that had even been the smallest of light bulb moments will hopefully prove to help me mature and grow just a little more into this role. So I try and try, and continue to be mindful. I have cut up even more of my “free time” to prep and prepare even putting together my few outfits that I plan to wear to my part time job that week. All of this and I am still waiting on a loving service to be done unto me. How long is it ok to wait? what is a reasonable amount of adjustment? I can prep a meal, lay out the baby’s pj’s paci’s and bath towel. I can rent her a movie and supply the snacks but when do I get that in return? I don’t do it because I want to wave an IOU around. I do it because there is love there and I want to make things easier for her. I want her to know I care, and for her to be able to relax. But the feeling isn’t mutual. I don’t understand. How do you make someone do things for you? I guess the answer is you can’t. So does that mean if they don’t want to?? I don’t know, but I’m definitely losing hope, or at least losing the definition of it. What are you doing or saying to show me you care or that you are thinking about me. So I just keep holding my breath. how long do you wait for people to figure themselves out before they can start consistently filling in the pieces with you? Is that even fair to ask for? I don’t know, but I know I need something. Some token of love, a note, something sweet. Something. Tonight, I would have settled for her putting out the baby’s pjs for me, since it was my night to bathe her, but instead she tells me “none of the pacifiers are clean” . I was happy she went to the store with the list I put together, but I would have loved if one of the few items I asked for she actually correctly got for me instead of the different kind, and the different brand. Something… just one thing… just something. But it’s not even a safe place to tell her my thoughts right now, because I’ve learned I will not get the reception I am hoping for. I won’t get any acknowledgment or “sorry”. I will be met with frustration and annoyance. She will feel criticized and overwhelmed and it will just end in an argument and I’ll never know why I even tried to bring it up. All I can do in the meantime is refocus back on my self and continue to work my own contentment, free from the actions or influence of others. It’s just hard when I would be happy for some clean dishes or even a sincerely connected thank you. Until then…

Somewhere between where I am and what I should be doing

I feel like I look up and all the sudden silence. And I’m alone on this outdoor track. I thought I heard foots steps a moment ago, several sets around me but now I hear nothing. I hear my empty shallow breathing steady but also unsure. I scan the sky, the ground, I look at my feet. I clear my throat, mostly to hear a new noise, something other than my breathing. I stand there, still scanning, trying to use the last 40 seconds to help me decide what I should be feeling right now. But it is just empty blank and sad. If that was a feeling it would be that, empty blank sad. I see someone far away but I can not make out who it is. “I should have warmed up, I should have stretched more.” yes, shoes are tied. “Should I have brought that water? Yes it’s fine there, no one will bother it”. “I wonder how my legs look? I mean I don’t wear shorts that often…” I look down again. I am wearing what are suppose to be the right clothes. Ok turn music on. Adjust headphones. I made a special playlist for this. I stand there and take a deep breath. Trying to silently beckon any hidden forces of push and motivation. Okay, I knew it might look like this. You knew you weren’t the fastest but that’s okay you just need to go. Something today is better than nothing. Looks like it might rain, or maybe just stay cloudy all day. 
All of that and I still haven’t taken one step…

Equality for Gingerbread- and the evolution of my Mother

My Mom has come a long way in her Lesbian and Gay education. I mean a long way… The path has been from “this is a phase” to “you are a pervert” to “if that makes you happy” to “how does that really work?” to “that lady off Sex and the City is gay and has a gay women partner” (Um yeah Mom I hope her partner is also gay?!?). Bringing us to “call me Mom”.
Without digging to far back to the coming out years- which are stories in themselves, my Mom at one time had to understand how the two women thing worked. No, I am not talking about sex thank God my Mom never asked me anything like that!! I can still remember her sweet and sarcastic yet honest face when she asked.
“Like how does that work? I mean even Noah had a wife, Noah did certain things on the ark…?” I had no idea what she meant. She continued, “Like, you know? Who kills the spiders, and who takes out the trash?” She kind of joked but with this questioning, sincere undertone suggesting she was open to answers. “Well Mom, I kill the bugs, because C is scared of them all, and we both take out the trash.” She kind of danced a little and tried to coax me into admitting I knew what she was thinking, but I wouldn’t budge. I did not know what she was thinking. I did not get it. Is she really implying that female and male roles dominate the earth revolving? That women would wade in their own trash until they moved away or hired a man to throw it away?? Mom are you saying you are against women working at pest control companies because their sheer biology will render them below standard in job performance? I did not budge. And my firmness sank in, and my confidence sank in, and it slowly seeped through her surface. She was understanding just very slowly. All of this because I was talking about two women who got married and both wore amazing gowns of their choice. She didn’t “get it” because she had known me to one time be with a women of a more masculine gender.  Two dresses was like overload for her. More education continues. More public figures come out, she meets more of the lesbians I know or date. And she better understands the difference between people and stereotypes. She has now even clarified if it is okay to tell C she looks pretty…? (C has no issue with the word pretty, being pretty, and you don’t have to be feminine to be pretty, but C is very feminine) “Yes, Mom you can tell her she looks pretty.”
Our daughter is born and both prior and after, C and I are very firm and confident about terms, explanations used, appropriate behaviors. For example we refer to a “donor” we do NOT say, our daughter’s “biological dad”. So I have had to be very stern with my Mom and education and sensitivity training. And my Mom has been performing well.

Fast forward to Christmas season 2012… My Mom brings my attention to an alarming discrimination discovered in one of the local grocery stores. I believe she is both surprised and proud of herself for unearthing this truly insensitive item. It is a Christmas place mat. a children’s plastic or vinyl place mat glittery and red and green. And on it, a gingerbread boy and a gingerbread girl and according to my Mom they are heterosexual girl and boy gingerbread people in a relationship. “What if that offends people? They didn’t even think that maybe they should have place mats with two gingerbread men or two gingerbread women? I looked and they only had them with a boy and a girl gingerbread on them.” I wasn’t sure I was really hearing this. My Mom passionately, and in her own intellectual fashion continued “I am just really surprised they didn’t give that any thought…” Ah yes, I appreciated the new found outlook. She has started, just barely, to catch a fraction of the border-less world in which I hope my daughter grows into. Even if it’s in the form of gingerbread place mats. Even if it was a little extreme, I’ll take it. I let her down easy “Wow, Mom that is a very interesting point. Or maybe the two gingerbread people are just kids? maybe siblings? and this way they can market the place mat to little boys and little girls? I guess we’ll never know huh?”

Bending with all my might

Something I have loved since before I was given her…

Mystic Poet Kahlil Gibran tells us:
“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for Itself. They come through you, but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies, but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow which you cannot visit not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite and He bends you with his might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archers’ hand be for gladness, for even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also that bow that is stable.