On my way home from a Halloween party I had spent all day preparing for only to fuss with baby for an hour and half while my girls get ready to go out dancing, I realized how much I am dependent upon my partner's company. All day long I wrestled between sewing baby's costume, painting his shield accessory, preparing and feeding his and my food, redirecting him from things he shouldn't be playing with, picking him up again and again because he kept whining, willing him to take a longer nap, shower, decide on a costume for myself, and tend to Odin's (dog) needs. Babies are so demanding. This was all in preparation for a Halloween party 30 minutes down the freeway to Ashland, which I was late for because of baby's fussing. He refuses to let me set him down or chill with someone else, so I continue to hold him the entire party, fighting exhaustion, realizing in all the chaos I forgot to feed myself. The other attendees are enjoying their freedom: dancing, drinking, snacking away, playing on their phones, going to the bathroom, sitting wherever they want. Simple things I yearn for, especially when everyone is parading theirs obliviously in front of me. My sacrifices, my obligations fall into the background. In order to meet my needs, the peace of the room is sacrificed when he cries; spirits forbid me to feed myself in peace! Cannot even do that, what a chore everything becomes. I cannot be around them anymore, their freedom only aggravates me because I have none.
I left earlier than everyone, an hour and half after arriving to get baby to bed and remove myself from the frustrating circumstances. I can no longer do the kinds of things they do. Drink myself into a coma, dance the night away at a club. That requires advance planning and a competent babysitter. I accept these things, but it did not help my state of mind to be the only one left out because I have constantly pressing responsibilities. I left feeling the time I rushed to get us to that party was a waste.
Not a mile down the road, baby starts crying like he is hungry. After a few more miles for the concern to build and guilt at trying to ignore what maybe painful hunger pains, I find a secluded spot off an exit to breastfeed him. We are surrounded by darkness. Just the full sky and lights down in the valley beyond the road. I utilized this moment to breathe. Relenting, I drooped my head to the window of my door and stared up at the openness of the sky, sprinkled with stars that stretched my awareness past the vicinity of my body (where baby usually is demanding my attention), reminding me of the space outside my little cage. My mind reached out for that space, aching to float up to it, to feel weightless... free. With baby, my every action is dictated by anticipation of his every need. I know I am needing a break; tipping point.
I miss you. Every night you come home I relish, yet secretly suppress the desire for some excitement, a change in the routine. Such a change in routine as I have experienced in the last couple days since you've been gone has merely highlighted my desire for your company. You understand the constant responsibility I referred to. You acknowledge our lives no longer allow for the kind of lifestyle our friends still enjoy..I miss the familiarity of your smile, your mannerisms and silly jokes. Your presence is comforting to me, and I yearn after only a day to be entangled with you. My heart actually aches. How strange that cliche was based on truth. When we are distanced enough for the string that connects us to run taut, my love for you becomes apparent. I am intoxicated when you are near knowing that I have someone to reciprocate with, to appreciate me and show desire for me.
I cannot imagine surviving the permanent loss of you. Please be careful out there and return safely.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Thursday, September 16, 2010
When Will I Know You
(Author’s Note: I wrote this months before I coincidentally became pregnant. This is meant to mark a major turning point in my story.)
As my maternal clock tempts me into rushing toward motherhood, I resist until I am certain the circumstances speak well to me. Until the doubt has receded, when I will not fear the abandonment, divorce, entrapment and despair that has befallen the women of my past, when my feminist ideals permit me to surrender pursuit of a career to the potential joy of a baby.
I think of you often. Who might you be? Will you love me? Will you talk to me about your problems, consult me for guidance but be capable of finding your own answers? Will you adopt my principles and build upon them? Will you treasure my writings, my pondering about you? Will you be empathetic like me? Will you cry at the thought of an animal being mistreated? Will it anger you? Will you be bold enough to stand up for your beliefs, defend those unable to? Will you rise above the superficial, materialistic, judgmental and often insensitive influences of our culture? Will you be curious about other perspectives, about the questions of death and existence, or religion and not simply discard it as a weak or meaningless practice, nor fall entirely into its spell and encourage others to follow? What will you believe? Will you be able to uphold faith in something despite your awareness of its potential to be false? Will you understand the power of your thoughts on your actions, those around you, the course of your life?
Can I possibly teach you all of this?
Rather I should be asking, who will I be, what will I do as your parent. Hopefully, by monitoring my own choices in raising you, I will find that whoever you become is someone I will be proud to call my child.
I yearn for the experience of holding you to my breast and looking into the eyes of a soul I have been waiting to meet.
When will I meet you.
As my maternal clock tempts me into rushing toward motherhood, I resist until I am certain the circumstances speak well to me. Until the doubt has receded, when I will not fear the abandonment, divorce, entrapment and despair that has befallen the women of my past, when my feminist ideals permit me to surrender pursuit of a career to the potential joy of a baby.
I think of you often. Who might you be? Will you love me? Will you talk to me about your problems, consult me for guidance but be capable of finding your own answers? Will you adopt my principles and build upon them? Will you treasure my writings, my pondering about you? Will you be empathetic like me? Will you cry at the thought of an animal being mistreated? Will it anger you? Will you be bold enough to stand up for your beliefs, defend those unable to? Will you rise above the superficial, materialistic, judgmental and often insensitive influences of our culture? Will you be curious about other perspectives, about the questions of death and existence, or religion and not simply discard it as a weak or meaningless practice, nor fall entirely into its spell and encourage others to follow? What will you believe? Will you be able to uphold faith in something despite your awareness of its potential to be false? Will you understand the power of your thoughts on your actions, those around you, the course of your life?
Can I possibly teach you all of this?
Rather I should be asking, who will I be, what will I do as your parent. Hopefully, by monitoring my own choices in raising you, I will find that whoever you become is someone I will be proud to call my child.
I yearn for the experience of holding you to my breast and looking into the eyes of a soul I have been waiting to meet.
When will I meet you.
Here's Jenny!
These last few weeks have been crazy. Forgive my apparent loss of interest by suddenly falling off my schedule to post regularly. My partner and I have moved into a new house, I landed full time employment (impressive considering I’m 20 weeks pregnant) working with at risk teen boys, our internet is not even connected to the house yet, and we had quite a few financial issues all crowding my mental space. But rest assured, I will not quit this project. Delays should be expected, especially now that I will be working, but if anything my job will give me fuel to write more.
Quick update, baby is healthy. We had an ultrasound today to determine sex, which we are keeping on the DL because we want to avoid gender bias among our family and friends. No barbies or steroid infested GI Joes relatives! Let's not establish an unrealistic body image that quickly. At some point in your lives, I hope you all take the time to watch this video by Jackson Katz called "Tough Guise" about the cultural standard of being male and its connection to domestic violence, and low emotional maturity in men. Watch this video and then you will understand my caution.
In other news, You can now contact me with comments, ideas, etc. via email. Even if you just send a quick greeting, I will be tickled to know I got an email for the site. I need to find the motivation to research ways to increase my readership and make the site findable. So keep reading!
Loves.
Quick update, baby is healthy. We had an ultrasound today to determine sex, which we are keeping on the DL because we want to avoid gender bias among our family and friends. No barbies or steroid infested GI Joes relatives! Let's not establish an unrealistic body image that quickly. At some point in your lives, I hope you all take the time to watch this video by Jackson Katz called "Tough Guise" about the cultural standard of being male and its connection to domestic violence, and low emotional maturity in men. Watch this video and then you will understand my caution.
In other news, You can now contact me with comments, ideas, etc. via email. Even if you just send a quick greeting, I will be tickled to know I got an email for the site. I need to find the motivation to research ways to increase my readership and make the site findable. So keep reading!
Loves.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tough Love
At our most daring, fueled by emotion, we attempt to act as that voice for someone else.
Names are left vague for the anonymity of the uninvolved person(s).
Names are left vague for the anonymity of the uninvolved person(s).
Friday, August 27, 2010
Some Day My Prince Will Come
I used to love watching Disney Princess movies, more for the songs than anything else. But when I watch them again, now that my mind is not so impressionable (or so I believe), a little angry feminist screams at every detail along the way. The Princess’ apparent fragility and lack of control over their own destiny only aids in the conditioning of young minds what a woman should be. I just needed to wait by my window and some day a knight in shining armor would help me escape from the cruelty of the world. A waiting game I fear my 30 year old sister continues to play, living encased in fantasy and missing out on true opportunity for happiness. This is of course why the Princess and the Frog movie switched it up, making the woman independently pursuing a dream. From waiting to pursuit, it’s a step in the right direction I guess, still off target since happiness and love do not have to be pursued. But that’s for another rant.
This is what we all hope for: the One. To love you no matter what, stand by you no matter what. I want to meet the manipulative businessman who implanted this idea in my mind. The writers of fairy tales. Read the REAL versions of those fairy tales, like the true story of the Three Little Pigs where the Wolf only wanted to borrow a cup of sugar. The transition seems to be heading toward new perspectives on classic tales like Into the Woods and Wicked. Those original tales are excellent starting points, lessons that will expand and be amended with experience. But do some of these generic ideas continue to govern how we approach issues like relationships? Does that foundation never get remodeled?
This is what we all hope for: the One. To love you no matter what, stand by you no matter what. I want to meet the manipulative businessman who implanted this idea in my mind. The writers of fairy tales. Read the REAL versions of those fairy tales, like the true story of the Three Little Pigs where the Wolf only wanted to borrow a cup of sugar. The transition seems to be heading toward new perspectives on classic tales like Into the Woods and Wicked. Those original tales are excellent starting points, lessons that will expand and be amended with experience. But do some of these generic ideas continue to govern how we approach issues like relationships? Does that foundation never get remodeled?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Give a Little Bit
(Click to play song). Gotta love cheese.
Local florist Judy's Flowers & Gifts and radio stations are giving away 10,000 roses on Sept. 1st 2010 in spirit of Good Neighbor's Day. The idea is you pick up a bouquet (12 roses), keep one for yourself, and hand out the other eleven to friends, strangers, family, neighbors. Gifting a simple rose to a person might be the only good thing they receive that day.
I know of a few other towns and cities that would greatly benefit from such an event, but of course it happens here in the Rogue Valley where everyone already loves each other. Ew. Just vomited a little.
I plan on participating in this event. It is first come first serve, starting at 8am. I invite my friends to break the routine of that day and join this beautiful event.
The more I talk about this, the more nauseating it sounds. Obviously this is a targeted marketing campaign by the community. But if you're going to advertise, what a great way of going about it.
Just mark your calendar and do it.
This is the perfect scheme to disperse my newly developed neurotoxin. All of the valley will yield to my commands! Muahah!
Local florist Judy's Flowers & Gifts and radio stations are giving away 10,000 roses on Sept. 1st 2010 in spirit of Good Neighbor's Day. The idea is you pick up a bouquet (12 roses), keep one for yourself, and hand out the other eleven to friends, strangers, family, neighbors. Gifting a simple rose to a person might be the only good thing they receive that day.
I know of a few other towns and cities that would greatly benefit from such an event, but of course it happens here in the Rogue Valley where everyone already loves each other. Ew. Just vomited a little.
I plan on participating in this event. It is first come first serve, starting at 8am. I invite my friends to break the routine of that day and join this beautiful event.
The more I talk about this, the more nauseating it sounds. Obviously this is a targeted marketing campaign by the community. But if you're going to advertise, what a great way of going about it.
Just mark your calendar and do it.
This is the perfect scheme to disperse my newly developed neurotoxin. All of the valley will yield to my commands! Muahah!
Monday, August 23, 2010
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