Monday, September 25, 2006
We didn’t go out to eat or play softball or even the park. We didn’t even go out for a walk.
We stayed at home, cleaning, doing laundry, working on projects that have been neglected for the last two years.
The boy spent his time with us. Running around trying to get into things he’s not supposed to get into, tossing the ball around, chasing the kitty.
He also started dancing. It was adorable. We played music for him, Doo Wop, I think, and he held his arms out and twirled around the room, singing along. I kept wanting him to dance like his friends were—kind of bouncing on their knees, but he never got into that. If he danced, it was always more a bop of his head. Now I’m so glad that I didn’t try to train him to bounce, because he found his own dancing.
He also started scribbling for the first time. I gave him some washable crayons and he drew all over a page, in multiple colors. He also chewed on the crayons and ended up with a purple face. Oh well.
And he played on the deck. He doesn’t usually get to, because I feel that it will require too much close supervision, but Papa was there. He danced and sang around the deck, playing in the planters, and generally being the boy.
He’s a very artistic boy, I think. All the singing and dancing and drawing. He even demanded to play the piano, then sat there on Papa’s lap, playing with the keys. I believe in fostering his interests, but I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that both Papa and Mama are artistic.
I have spent so many years saying “no,I can’t” to life, that saying “yes” has come to mean accepting opportunities and taking chances and being active—DOing stuff.
But I am in a stage of life right now that is limited by many things—the responsibility of taking care of a child, having a limited budget, having very limited free time, also the physical limitations of being pregnant mean I just don’t have the energy or focus I normally do.
My adventures have to pull back to fit my life. It doesn’t mean I should say ‘no’ to everything, but I have to be reallistic about what works for me, for us.
So I was just thinking about what it means to be saying “yes” in this situation. Maybe it’s also about saying “yes” to my life—as it is. Accepting life for flaws, loving the positives, knowing it can’t ever be perfect. Accepting, even the limitations. Realizing that they aren’t about stealing something from my life or denying my happiness, but just my life as it is. Limitations add shape to life, they do, but my life is still my life, within those boundaries.
So maybe I can say yes to my apartment, a cozy and comfy place, even though it is always in transition, between cleanings, or big projects, cluttered with the stuff of living. Maybe I can say “yes” to my relationship, even though we don’t spend a lot of time alone together, because he is working to provide for us, and I am working to raise our son and keep our home, and we both still need time to ourselves. Maybe I can say “yes” to my need to nap whenever the boy naps, or constantly graze to feed myself, or being unable to remember my phone number or keep a conversation—because it means I am growing another human being inside of me. Accept who I am and the place I am in my life.
That doesn’t mean that I allow it all to fall apart. Let go of dreams and responsibilities. I still have those, I still want to write my novel and see the world and have a great, fulfilling relationship, and a gorgeous home and good friends, but perfection will never happen. I don’t want to keep looking down on what I do have because it doesn’t look like the perfect picture I have in my head.
Saying “yes” might now mean, “Yes, this is my life, and it is good.”
Friday, September 22, 2006
I have been putting energy into not giving in to my baby-brian. Getting sleep is a big thing here. Plus actually thinking about things, actively, as opposed to passively watching tv.
However, I’ve also decided to accept the state of my brain power. I am actively trying to use it, but I am not going to fight the power of hormones, either.
Did you know that studies have found pregnant women lose around 2% of their brain. Something about protein or acids or something that the baby sucks right out of your garbanzo bean. I’d give you exact details on the studies or percentage or what actually is being removed from your brain, but those are the facts that have been taken over by baby making. Oh well.