I LOVE So You Think You Can Dance.

I think if I had lived an alternate life, from about age 5, I would have, could have, been a dancer. I love it. And yet, I am completely NOT a dancer. I might shake my booty at a party or a club, or I might have once upon a time, before babies and encroaching age, but I’ve never even taken a dance class.

I love to watch dance, though, particularly modern dance, contemporary, lyrical, or whatever they call it. Sometimes, after a particularly evocative performance, I might even choreograph a number in my head.

My grandfather was also a professional dancer during the Harlem Rennaissance. He was a Spanish immigrant and used to do the Pasa Doble—the same dance they did in Strictly Ballroom. (If you don’t know it, you MUST watch it.) Sometimes I wonder if there’s a genetic predisposition to things like dance, because I’m definitely predisposed, despite not dancing.

And I LOVE the performances today on SYTYCD. The numbers, the dancers. LOVE LOVE LOVE.

See? Dance makes me talk all in CAPITALS!

See more progress on: Quit UB for one week

Are They Sleeping?

Will they stay sleeping?

It's 8:30 pm and I am tapped out. So exhausted. They tag teamed me today again. There was about 15 minutes when both of them were sleeping, the rest of the day one or the other was awake and needing something or crying or wanting to be held or fed or what have you.

I'm choosing not to get down on myself for not having the energy to take G out, or watching too much tv. Or not getting what I wanted done today. I think a lot of it is just exhaustion. Three months of 6 or fewer hours of broken sleep a night, and I'm kind of unraveling.

But I remember the last newborn time, it was just as exhausting. I was also stuck big time in the creating thing. I just couldn't get back into writing or drawing or anything, and I had to chug-chug-chug my way back to myself, like the little engine. This time, I am not so far lost.

This time, I get that I need to organize, need to have a daily To Do list (even if I don't put that list together, I know that I should, and that I could.) I know other women who are mothers, even if I don't go meet up with them all that much.

I also have a project that I am already working on. That's good. I have some 400 odd pages of a novel that needs to be written. My brain has a focus other than kids, I only have to work on the energy and structure to make it happen. I've made the commitment to finish, that's FINISH rewriting this book by the end of September. I want to be able to do NaNoWriMo again in November, so I need to finish this book, since it is the first part of the trilogy.

And I am really excited about the story. No one else has read it at all. I haven't read it, but for the first 75 pages. When I've done me first rewrite, I can start to show it to people. First rewrite by October. Ugh. I wish I was able to read more than a few pages at a time. Ugh doubled. Must commit to my commitment. One hour a day of reading? How does that sound? Doable?

See... I am, truly, very tired, but I start to talk about my book and the juices start to flow. They may not flow quickly, but it's a start. And I think it's going to get better from here on in.

And it's 9pm, and they're still sleeping. I should take out the book.

About the Knocking Down of Walls

I think it would be good to not be so stingy with my happiness.

There’s some sort of protective shield I put up against happiness, or maybe showing happiness. What is it? If you’re not happy, no one can take your happiness away? No one can mock you for not being stoic or sarcastic or snarky. Why do we all have to be so snarky nowadays, anyway? Who was it that decided only cornballs are happy? Where did the cool-unhappy connection come from?

Well, I guess it actually makes sense, to be “cool” you are not surprised by things, they don’t shock you or hurt you, or amaze you, and, unfortunately, you are not made happy by them, either. You are cool, cold—ABOVE it all. It’s about not being affected by people or events that happen.

Is that what I want? Do I want to not be affected? To have no one touch me truly? If I wall out pain, am I not also walling out joy? Love? Contentedness?

I’m being stingy with others, too. Witholding myself and my love. It’s sad really. It’s scary to open up. It’s easier to watch tv or go online to an anonymous message board than it is to actually connect with the real people in my life.

You know, I do this in my writing, too. I have been accused of getting so elaborate in the story leading up to the heart of the matter, and then skipping right over the part that is painful or true or exposing.

This is all a strange thought… that it takes bravery to be happy. It takes bravery to knock down the protective walls and allow the joy (and possible heartbreak) in to your heart.

See more progress on: enjoy life on a daily basis

This Week in Adventures or The Travels of the Adventure Team!

This week, we bought new sandals, adventuring up Grand Street, watching the kids practice tae kwon do through the store front, exploring the kids shoes, especially the pink sparkle Dora jelly sandals which I still regret not gettinig for G, sitting in a cafe eating a plum (G) and drinking ice coffee (me).

We went to the indoor playground, where G got a time out for playing too rough. We played in the rain on the deck. We took a trip into Manhattan, which includes fun times on the subway, watching a tap dancer/drummer combo on the platform, walking through Union Square and the Farmer’s market, where we bought yummy fresh strawberries, then playing in the little playground in the park and even swinging on the swings, which G doesn’t usually like to do. We met up with some old friends of mine who had never met G or Ivy, and they were both very well behaved (the kids, not the friends, although they were well behaved, too) and we had lunch at one of our old favorite restaurant. G played with the crayons and placemat and had fried onion rings for the first time. Then we took a trip back to the school I used to work at. I don’t think that was very much fun for the kiddos, but it was a trip for me. We also bought G his very own little potty. I don’t think he much cares for it, but that’s only because that adventure is just beginning.

What else did we do this week???? We bought papa a Papa’s Day present—The Dangerous Book for Boys, which will be much fun as G grows older. I hope they put out one for girls. Ivy and I went on a trip alone to Barnes and Noble to get it, and sat in the cafe window overlooking Union Square (yes, that’s two trips to Manhattan.)

We also went to the Farmers Market in McCarren park in Brooklyn. We got a coffecake and some apples and some herbs to plant on our deck, then we sat in the grass and had a mini picnic. G ran around with some other toddlers, one of whom had already been through the rough-play stage.

We also set up the wading pool on the deck, and G played in it. He loved it so much that he keeps running back to the window to check on it.

Maybe today we’ll go out on the deck, play in the pool and plant our herbs in the planter. I’d better learn how best our herbs will grow. Should I put them all in one big planter, or spread them out in smaller pots?

See more progress on: go on adventures with my children

Wonderland

I need to find the joy in everyday. Need to experience my life, and value it, not let it pass by in a haze of unmet expectations and negative feelings about what I HAVEN’T done.

This is my life. I do not want to want it to be something different. It’s too easy to get caught up in what I do not have. It’s too easy to get caught up in what I am not.

I don’t want to say “Yes, but…” to life, either. I want to learn to accept it. Learn to accept that we are broke right now. Learn to accept that I can’t buy all the things that would be cool to have. Learn to accept that I am not a great housekeeper. Learn to accept S’s negative traits. Learn to accept my own negative traits.

None of that is to say that I can’t work to change certain things about my life, but I need to accept the way they are right now so that I don’t feel DEFECTIVE, which is what actually happens. And then my self esteem goes down the toilet and everything just seems harder, and I am not happy, and I can only see that the bathroom needs to be cleaned, and not the unbridled laughter of my son, or the soft yet firm grip of my baby daughter’s hand on my thumb.

Remember. Stop in the maddening hamster wheel of “the grind” and remember to pay attention to what is now. Right NOW.

I wonder if I did this, would it help me actually achieve all those things I want? If I just accepted life, said yes to it, would I be a more responsible adult? Would I be more productive? Would I ease into the revision of my novel—which I really like, by the way, although I have been making excuses not to work on it. Would I be able to keep my kitchen clean or get rid of the clutter? If I get rid of my head-clutter, will my life-clutter go, too?

See more progress on: say yes to life

Adultifying

I am an adult; 36 years old, mother of 2, a High School teacher, although not one now, and yet, there are certain areas of life where I just curl up in a fetal position, with the blankie over my head going “no, no, no, no, no…”

It mostly has to do with money, with forms, with official grown up things like health insurance or the government. Of course I also go into hiding when I think of getting my writing published.

But I don’t really have the luxury of being a flake or a child about these things. I am an adult with the responsibilities of an adult. What I do does not affect just me any more, it affects my children.

I may have a hard time believing that I am the mother of two kids sometimes, but I am. And I have to take care of them. And I have to take care of me, too, if not for my own sake, simply because I’m worth it, then for my kids’ sake, because they need to have a healthy, strong, successful mom who is there for them.

Sometimes, when I get small and scared, I remind myself to be an adult. I don’t always want to step up to the plate, so sometimes I have to goad myself, like a bully. “Do it, you wuss, be an adult.”

It’s worked a couple of times, maybe I can keep doing it and I’ll get in the habit of acting like an adult when I need to.

Just to be clear, being an adult does not mean being boring or narrow minded or unadventurous or unhappy or any of that. I truly believe that grown ups can be just as full of wonder as children, just as spontaneous, they just also take care of what needs to be done.

Maybe I should also give myself a goal about childlike wonder to balance out the adultifying.

See more progress on: be an adult

When?

When am I going to get my energy back? When will I get out from under the tidal wave of baby care? I need to get a handle on all of this and not be so exhausted by it so that I can continue with the other parts of my life. I cannot drop them, writing, teaching, art. I must do them for my own happiness, but also to make money for my kids. This isn’t just my career we’re talking about, this is our livelihood.

Has this raised the stakes sufficiently to get over all my insecurities and self sabotage? Maybe, but it hasn’t helped with the sleepy/achey/braindead/exhaustion. Please say it’s just the post partum junk and the hormones from nursing. It’s the having two under two thing, and in one month when G turns 2 years old, all angst and exhaustion and struggle will magically lighten.

Poof! Baby overwhelm gone! Continue on boldly in your life, Ro. Nothing holding you back!

Sigh.

See more progress on: start a writing group

I'm tired, SOOO tired. (who sang that song?)

I try to revise my novel when I have time, I’ve done maybe a hundred pages, but I am the mother of two children under two years old, and I almost never “have” time.

That time is almost always taken away from something else.

Of course, I do have unproductive habits that I could give up. Hello, television? Or maybe I should say “goodbye, television.” I mean, it’s summer, there’s hardly anything new on tv. Surfing on line could also go. I could at least cut back on it.

I watch tv and web surf when I am exhausted, as I always am. It’s a real problem to productivity, but it’s also an excuse. Yes I’m tired, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t or can’t do things.

In order to revise my novel, in order to even read it (seriously, I can’t even reread Harry Potter right now) I have to buck up and stop… well… feeling sorry for myself.

Oh, I’m so tired.

I mean, I really am, but I feel so sorry for myself because I am so tired.

I think if I just accept my life as this right now, and not fight that I am tired, but flow with it, then I might get better at editing my novel.

And the truth is, working on my book will make me feel better. It will excercise my brain and get me used to working again on something other than babies.

I don’t have to revise the whole thing this week, but if I just commit to working on it, whatever I can, I can get it done.

Easy would be to commit to just 15 minutes a day of revising. I can set my timer. Easy, right? Easy.

Hey, does this make any sense? I don’t know what I’ve just written.

Did I mention that I’m tired?

See more progress on: edit my novel

Monster Man

People Building

I look at the baby sometimes and wonder who she will become. They’re so unformed at this point. A blank slate, it seems—but even in those chubby baby cheeks and gummy smile and innocent eyes, there is a seed of who they are.

I can see it more in G. His personality is starting to come out more and more with his individuality. He is a handful, always going off on adventures, with or without my approval. He’s big into playing—things like chase and wrestling, which the other kids his age are not quite ready for. And he’s such a BOY already! Cars and trucks and tricycles, dinosaurs, monsters, animals. Football, baseball, pretty much any ball. And he loves water with a passion—getting soaked on his first time in the playground sprinklers, while the other kids in his playgroup hung back with their mommies, shy or afraid. They all stay by their mothers. Gabriel though is always off. Last playgroup, he actually began a little revolt in the good-baby group, and they all took off after him on his adventures. He was like some sort of toddler Pied Piper of Hamlin… which is funny, because his grandma’s last name comes from the town of Hamlin.

But with the Beanie baby, none of that is clear at all. Who is she? Is she going to be as serious as she seems now, or is it just gas that makes her frown like that? She’s already holding her head up very strongly, and standing on those bowed baby legs… does that mean she will be stubborn? Strong? Independent? Is raising a girl going to be THAT different from raising a boy? I mean, G turned into a boy-boy with no help from me. Is the Bean going to be a girlie girl? Or a tomboy? Or maybe she won’t be that easily defined. I do know that she already shows a preference for baseball on tv… something her Papa is very happy about.

Whoever she is, whoever G is, I want to help them become the best version of themselves. I don’t want to squash their independent spirits. I want them to be able to explore their world and experiment.

And yet… I want to help them understand the world and its boundaries. I don’t want them to get hurt, or to hurt anyone else. I want them to understand the value in other people, as well as the value in themselves. I don’t want them to be spoiled, or bullies. I want to help them be kind and helpful and loving and confident and creative. Strong and Happy. Strong and happy.

How much power do I have over who they will ultimately become? How much of that is really out of my control, and all up to them?

I don’t know. Parenting nowadays feels like a crap shoot. A lot of the old ways of doing things are not really acceptable now. A whuppin’ was common back then, now I would never do that. But I have to say, I don’t agree with the extreme permissiveness and coddling that I see sometimes today.

My philosophy, I suppose, developed when I was teaching High School, is that you give kids boundaries, and then within those boundaries, you let them have free will. I don’t want to strangle them with rules, but they need to know where the boundaries are… that’s what makes kids feel safe, those boundaries.

The question is where I set the boundaries and how I enforce them. There is no question about how consistent I have to be once I set those boundaries. Like for hitting—NO HITTING!

That’s the only one I’m 100% on right now. I guess I will figure out the other boundaries as I go along. I’m starting to work on one—something like, “no playing with water/other liquids inside the house unless it is in the bathtub, ie: no dumping mama’s coffee cup on the floor.”

But on the other hand… I also don’t want the world to be about “NO.” I don’t want to run around all day telling my kids what they can’t do. So I’ll have to pick which things to let go, which battles to fight.

Now that I think about it, it’s not only who the kids are that is unformed…it’s also who I am as a mother.

See more progress on: Raise strong, happy children