Gone are the days

Gone are the days of...

sleeping in.
"winging" meals.
long, hot showers.
shaving my legs completely.
worrying about anyone's boogers but my own.
movies late into the night.
nights out dancing and drinking with my girlfriends.
blasting the tunes with windows down while driving.
a full night's rest.
dates.
high heels.
2 hours at the gym.
stain-less clothes.
a 3 pound (or less) purse.
quick trips to the store.
anything spontaneous.
worrying about anything other than what to wear.
cereal for breakfast, cereal for lunch, cereal for supper.
"letting" laundry go another day.

Motherhood strips life of a lot (see above). But it's all superficial, meaningless things (except maybe those cruises with windows down and music blasting - they are sometimes therapeutic).

................

But... I have gained so much more from motherhood than I could have ever comprehended. Meaning. Value. Life.

I remember a few years ago, I would dread weekends. The span of time with which I didn't know what to fill my life with something that gave me worth. My job gave me immense satisfaction - I was good at what I did and I took a lot of pride in that... but that was only Monday through Friday. Saturday and Sunday I felt lost. I filled my time with a lot of empty, meaningless and often inappropriate things. That all changed when I had Ruby.

My life is so full of goodness and meaning and love now. I still enjoy my job, but I get anxious for 5:00 p.m. The count down begins after my lunch hour... and I wait and wait for 5:00 so that I can rush to get my girl. Granted, there are days that I'm exhausted or stressed to the bone and the work and laundry are piled so high that I would rather put myself in a Dorito-coma than do anything productive. But mostly, I think of things I can do to be productive and get/keep my home in shape and spend some quality time with Ruby in the evenings. I love my time with her more than anything. When she's gone to her dad's, I clean, do laundry, shop, organize, primp and pick at our home. I want things to be nice and comfy when she gets home. It is an absolute labor of love, this taking care of our home. It is Ruby's home and I want her to love it and find comfort and security in it. In taking care of it, I love it even more myself, even though it sometimes feels gross to be there when she's not there. Mostly, I want to get those chores out of the way so that when Ruby is home again, the time I have with her is ours.

This weekend, my dad hugged me and told me how special Ruby is. I agreed. He said that she's done so much for me, she really saved me from myself. I couldn't agree more.

So, while I don't often have completely-shaved legs, I haven't been to a movie in months, it's not terribly convenient to wear high-heels anymore, and maybe more than twice I've unknowingly gone to work with goobers on my shirt, I have something/someone that gives purpose and GOBS of love to each day. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. AND Sunday.

I love being a mother more than I ever dreamed I would. My love for my daughter is bigger than any combination of words I could dream up.

I am so incredibly blessed.

18 Months

My dear girl,

Two days ago you turned 18 months old. How is that possible? I wonder that as each month ticks by and there have been a few moments where my breath caught in my throat as I looked at you and realized that I have a "kid" now. Gone is the tiny, content infant swaddled in her mama's arms. In her place is a jumping, laughing, shrieking, talking, booty-shaking little girl.

You learn very quickly and since having tubes put in your ears a month ago, your speech has improved by leaps and bounds. Suddenly 'p's, 'b's, 'd's, and sometimes 'r's are now part of your pronunciation. You will try to repeat anything I ask you to say. It make take a few tries to get all the sounds together properly, but you are persistent and almost always get it. You learned the word "turtle" a few weeks ago and crisp "t" sounds you made just about split this English-loving geek's heart in two. "Turt-tle." The other day you said "apple," but as you say it, you do a little head flop, like your jaw has to stay still and the rest of your head will accommodate.

If we have some free time to play, I must engage you with your toys. You are seldom interested alone. You would much rather attack my face and give big slobbery kisses/licks, or chase me around the house, or go for a wagon ride than sit quietly with toys. If you realize that I'm insisting on playing with the toys, you will then go for your books. Great distraction method.

You love, love, love your books. If I find quiet time to sit and relax, you have designated this time as reading time, as you promptly sort through your books, inevitably find one of the many animal books, and walk over to me. If I'm sitting of the floor, you back up to me and drop into my lap, confident you have reached your destination. If I'm in the chair, you hand me the book first - always, and then reach up to me. I'm sure you do this because, heaven forbid, the book gets dropped on the floor. I find an insane amount of joy and pride in the fact that you love your books so much. It's something we have in common, but I must confess, I'm getting weary of the same books over and over and over. So, to shake things up a bit, I quiz you. When looking at your animal books, I ask if you can spot the giraffe, the pig, the elephant, the goat... and you almost always get them right. When we read "Where the Wild Things Are" I ask you which Wild Thing is your favorite. You always point to the eagle/bird looking Wild Thing. I ask you which one is Mama's favorite, and you point to the bearded guy. You are right!

Another thing you love? Dancing. Any good beat has got you wiggling your bottom and shaking your hands - grinning from ear to ear. My aunt, Jan, commented this past weekend that your dancing resembles that of Bill Cosby - and she's SO right! The little dance he does at the beginning of the Bill Cosby Show is so much how you dance. You enjoy it so much and I enjoy watching you so much.

You are displaying bits of the Terrible Twos (which I hear is really the Terrible, Theatrical Threes) already. Yes, most of the time you will jovially hold my hand as we walk to the car or wave hello or bye-bye to neighbors. The sweetness is there. But, like the flip of a switch, throwing your cereal bowl on the floor while looking dead into my eye is becoming all too familiar. For instance, this morning when I was getting ready for work, you took the box of tampons from the drawer and dumped all 68 or so on the floor (this happens everyday) - then as I turned to put my mascara on, you found the toilet paper and unraveled about 12 feet of it. When I finally turned and noticed, I begged you to stop. You did. However, you then began tearing the unraveled toilet paper into tiny pieces just to litter the bathroom floor along with the tampons, towels, discarded PJs, brushes and combs you had pulled from the drawer, your blanket, and spilled juice. I asked you to clean up your mess, in which you proceeded to put the tampons in the garbage, and the t.p. pieces in the drawer. We were running out of time, so as I collected my things, along with your blanket and sippy cup, we both trailed out of the bathroom with bits of t.p. stuck to our bare feet....... I felt like we were on some annoying sitcom. You thought it was great. Me? I think about the mess I have to clean up tonight (and pray to God there are no water line emergencies etc., that would cause maintenance guys to have to enter our apartment.). Then wrestling you, my little alligator, to get you dressed for daycare, and the intermittent screaming as I fixed your hair, and the chase around the house (me cussing, you laughing) as I tried to get you to put your shoes on.... Needless to say, I was a half hour late for work, and I was exhausted and ready for a nap by 8:00 a.m. Mostly you don't do these things to be naughty - you are playing and learning how things work....

Then there are the times when your eyes have a steely glint as you stare at me and you squeeze your juice box so the juice sprays in a theatrical arc from the straw across the freshly-washed kitchen floor. I say no and run to you, as you release the box to allow for a better grip and then grit your teeth and squeeze it once more.

In the bathtub each night, you ask me to fill a particular bottle with water, and when I do - you immediately squeeze it in my direction, so that I am sprayed with your bath/soap/pee water. You laugh hysterically when you do this, and the more I shriek, the harder you laugh. I can't ever get mad. The sound of your laugh has brought me more joy and healing to my heart than I could have ever dreamed. Your laugh... you have brought joy to so many, Ruby.

At the store one day, we were waiting in the check out line when a woman maybe just a few years older than me commented on you. You waved your hand and said "hi" - I watched you and doing so I could feel the love-sick goat-like face I was making at you, my love and pride on display. When I turned back to the woman, she asked how old you are and I told her. She smiled and gazed at you softly and said, "She already has her mama wrapped around her finger."

It's true. Ruby, there is no one who brings me more frustration, laughter, worry, or joy more than you. You are the game-changer.

I love you more than you will ever know.

Love,

Mama

Lovely

Ruby has always been an affectionate baby and now, little girl. (Wha... ? Little girl? I have a little girl?!) She has been generous with kisses since she first learned how to kiss. Open-mouthed, slobbery kisses, were absolutely heavenly and she would smile at you after she kissed you, like she knew what a special gift she had given. Recently, though, she has learned to pucker her lips, which lessens the slobber by bucket-loads. She puckers up and aims carefully to kiss you, her Tigger, the pig in her most recent favorite book, her bowl, her blanket, the bathtub, or just about anything she likes.

To add the cherry on top, she is hugging now too. Anyone who knows me knows that I love a good squeeze, and Ruby's hugs are top notch. The way she wraps her spindly little arms around my neck and squeezes, and nuzzles her face into my hair... oh, I could just cry. Or how she will be playing, suddenly stop, and run to me and hug my legs... It is pure joy.

Ruby is pure joy.

Inspiration

I recently stumbled across a blog that inspires me endlessly.

www.handsfreemama.com

This woman, Rachel, inspires me to be a better person. A better employee. A better writer. A better mama. The words she writes come directly from the heart, you can feel it when you read her work. Her tone is soft and gentle, yet assertive, and you can feel how much she loves her family. It's heavenly.

I came across her blog at a point when I can use the inspiration. There are not enough hours in the day to read and absorb her wisdom!
 

This girl is learning

Let it be known that this old dog can learn new-ish tricks. This past year has been plump full of joy (anyone who knows me, knows it's all because of Ruby) for me but it has also been chock-full of stress and anxiety. Well, it continues to get worse instead of better, despite my best efforts to turn things in a positive direction. Last week, after a particularly stressful, angst-ridden few days, I met with my Buddha (Marty). I hashed things out and even when I wasn't feeling particularly upset, the tears were falling. I wasn't even crying, but the tears just fell. I was thinking to myself that I had been a lot more upset the past few days and didn't cried then, but now, when I'm expressing myself to one of the people I trust most on this earth, the tears just fall. I couldn't stop them but they made me realize that underneath the stress and anxiety is just a whole lot of sadness. Sad that life has to be this way.

At the end of my session with Buddha, he asked me if I had been praying and keeping my faith in God strong. Now, faith and religion are not something we often discuss, mostly because we both have struggled with it a lot. But I told Buddha that I had been trying and on my way out of his office, I was feeling guilty. I realized that actually, no, I hadn't been praying or keeping faith. It all sounds good, but I couldn't honestly say that I was putting any special effort or focus on that. So, I decided to change that. The last few days I have been consciously praying - not just the whispered half-prayers as I'm driving or the joined prayers I say with Ruby before I put her to bed, but sit down and meditate on God type of prayers that I have been neglecting lately. Choosing my words carefully and earnestly and focusing my mind on God, and not crashing cars as I'm changing lanes.

Last night, when I had a few hours to myself, I let the laundry wait; the tv off; list of to-do items on the kitchen table waiting for me to cross them off. I sat in my living room in the quiet and prayed. I put my heart into every single word I prayed. I didn't cry. I didn't laugh or get angry. I just opened myself up to God and let it all out, without expectation or judgment.

The level of peace in my heart has risen exponentially. Yes, the stress and anxiety are still there somewhat, but there is a whole lot more peace and comfort. Of feeling less alone. Of hope. HOPE. It feels so much like when I take the time to talk to God, He takes the time to talk back to me. But I know that's not true. He's always talking to me; waiting for me to turn to Him. He's always waiting for me to realize, to listen.

Well, here I am God. Here I am.

Growing up

Dear Ruby,

In the last three months you have 1) started walking, 2) quit the bedtime bottles, 3) cut 2 more teeth (for a total of 6!), and 4) become more vivacious and fun than I could have ever dreamed.

My mornings are filled with occupying you while I get ready for work. As I'm applying makeup and fixing my hair, you are going through the drawers in the bathroom, pulling Q-tip after Q-tip out of the box, and when I deter you from that, you turn to the cotton balls. One cotton ball after another onto the floor. I ask you to pick them up, which you do eventually, but you'd rather empty the bag first. After you have carefully placed the (contaminated) cotton balls back into the bag, you clap and cheer for yourself, while I cheer and laugh at how proud you are. When you are through with that drawer, you dump your bath toys into the bathtub and then attempt to fish them out. Often times I have to catch you from falling head first into the bathtub. You find this hilarious. If you are still too sleepy to do much exploring when you first wake up, you sit quietly on the bathroom floor and drink some juice with your blanket snuggled around you and watch me get ready. This doesn't happen too often, but when it does, you do not want to be in your crib, slowly waking up and embracing the day. Actually, that's always the case: you never want to be in your crib. You want to be with me 24/7.

If I'm scrubbing the floor, or cleaning the toilet, or just chilling in the living room, you are never more than a couple feet away. When I'm bustling from room to room, trying to remove the clutter and constant mess, you are always one step behind me, eager and ready to tear apart my hard work. Every half hour or so, you come in close, wrapping your arms around my legs and look up at me with huge, pleading eyes, as if to just check in. I have to (HAVE TO) pick you up, wrap you in a huge snuggle and a few kisses, to remind you that even though I have work to do, I love your company and I love that you "help" me. After a few minutes, I set you down and resume working. You pick up your sandbox rake, or measuring spoons, or whisk (whatever utensil catches your fancy that day) and return to "helping" me.

You are so loving and vivacious. I have had a couple people tell me that there is something special about you. I know that. I've known it since I was pregnant with you. "This belly here, this is something special." Of course, it would be rude of me to say so openly, but the secret is not so secret anymore. You light up a room, Rubes. Last weekend, we made a trip to Target, and you were impatient with me and squirming in the cart. I had all I could do to keep you occupied and I'm sure I was making a fool out of myself talking and singing in whispers trying to keep you entertained as I'm browsing the orange juice. Soon, though, you turned yourself in your seat and climbed to your knees (yes, you were strapped in), and proceeded to wave and say "hi! hi!" to everyone you saw. I saw stranger's eyes light up. They smiled and waved hello back. It was amazing. One older gentleman came closer to examine your hair and say hello, and while you grinned at him, you reached an arm back to me to make sure I was still close. I put my hand upon your back so you knew you were safe and that I wouldn't leave you. The reassurance between us (that you still need me and that I am always there for you) was sweet. The love and happiness that moment gave me will fulfill me forever.

I have such a contentedness when you are with me, Ruby. I feel like I'm complete. When I am at work, or running errands on my lunch hour, I feel like I'm missing my right hand. I've been thinking about this for a while now, wondering how I could possibly feel so lost without you next to me. One would think I would feel free or unencumbered, because, let's face it: you are a handful. But the opposite is true and I think I have figured out why. It's because you are my heart. When you are not with me, I don't have my heart, my reason for living and breathing, with me. You are not a piece of my heart or in my heart, you are my heart.

All my love,

Mama

For my girl

On the Night You Were Born

Nancy Tillman

 

On the night you were born,

the moon smiled with such wonder

that the stars peeked in to see you

and the night wind whispered,

"Life will never be the same."

Because there had never been anyone like you...

ever in the world.

 

So enchanted with you were the wind and the rain

that they whispered the sound of your wonderful name.

The sound of your name is a magical one.

Let's say it out loud before we go on.

 

It sailed through the farmland

high on the breeze...

 

Over the ocean...

 

And through the trees...

 

Until everyone heard it

and everyone knew

of the one and only ever you.

 

Not once had there been such eyes,

such a nose,

such silly, wiggly, wonderful toes.

In fact, I think I'll count to three

so you can wiggle your toes for me.

 

When the polar bears heard,

they danced until dawn.

 

From faraway places,

the geese flew home.

 

The moon stayed up until

morning next day.

 

And none of the ladybugs flew away.

 

So whenever you doubt just how special you are

and you wonder who loves you, how much and how far,

listen for geese honking high in the sky.

(They're singing a song to remember you by.)

Or notice the bears asleep at the zoo.

(It's because they've been dancing all night for you!)

Or drift off to sleep to the sound of the wind.

(Listen closely...it's whispering your name again!)

 

If the moon stays up until morning one day,

or a ladybug lands and decides to stay,

or a little bird sits at your window awhile,

it's because they're all hoping to see you smile...

 

For never before in story or rhyme

(not even once upon a time)

has the world ever known a you, my friend,

and it never will, not ever again...

Heaven blew every trumpet

and played every horn

on the wonderful, marvelous

night you were born.