To and Fro

I find myself often referring back to something my mom taught me. I was eighteen, pregnant, behind the wheel of her shinny red car. Slow down into the curves and speed up out of them. Funny, at the time I was irritated- absolutely flustered because there is a good reason I waited so long to get my license. She had told me this before but I'm clumsy, I turn too sharply, or I don't turn at all. I wasn't listening. Now, two years later I think back on those words with a whole new perspective. When life throws you curves, slow down. As the curve is coming to an end, speed up. Work harder. It seems these last couple of weeks, God is testing me. Curves are being thrown left and right so quickly that I can hardly dodge them. All I can do is slow my pace, take a deep breath, search deep inside the very fabrications of my soul and find faith. At the end of the night, when Kade is asleep and I'm alone with my thoughts, it's very easy to fall into a sort of sick sadness. My light is dim for the night and the darkness starts to creep in. Of course, admitting this is difficult- the words don't splay out in front of me smoothly. It's a choppy, timid rhythm. Insecurity at it's very finest.
If I only wrote when I was belated, lets face it, this blog would be sappy. It wouldn't be real- a web of lies crafted together to impress who? I'm here to tell the truth, to learn to tell the truth more often and more willingly. So, here it is: Sometimes, I'm sad. I get lonely. I got pulled over again. After spending the entire day working on my car, I had a stinking head light out. I sometimes forget to pray. In the midst of all this trial and tribulation, I stand strong but when the door closes I am a heaping pile of sheets and wool socks, shaking and calling out God, where are you?
This is absolutely ridiculous, of course. God is always here, he never goes any place. There, in the crooked smile of Kade's face, the way he clapped his hands and danced in the glow of the police lights- there is God. There is faith and hope and love. And the most important of these is, you know the verse, love. And those nights, when I'm reduced to a small pile of rice packs and wet hair, there is Kade giggling in his sleep- serenading through the baby monitor and filling to the brim every inch of air around me. You see, for every bad, there is a good. It's all about balance, baby. If we knew everything- if we never faced bad days, never battled to have our way- we would never think of Him. The idea is to trudge through the mud with a grin on your dirty face. In my case, imagine a baby building mud pies beside me, his yellow raincoat squeaky clean and his face a rosy red.

***

Moving is a huge task. Boxes fill every square foot of my apartment. Impossibly making it smaller than before. I fret around Kade, terrified that a box will come tumbling down. This is unlikely, granted. I am Super Mom, Packing Professional. I whisk about the house putting heavy things in the bottoms of boxes, blankets in the top, stacking perfectly even, never more than two boxes high. It's a Lego maze, little trails of Cheerios guide you in and around the living room. A tippy cup is tipped sideways atop a small box, cars line the edge of another. By the end of tonight we will be in a new place. There is a part of me, small but unwavering, that is sad. I was ecstatic to move into this apartment- the vaulted ceilings, the way Kade's room is just a stretch of the living room. I decorated in warm colors, I bought colorful food, I did my best to make this a home. And it is. So while I'm looking forward to starting fresh, there is a nostalgia here. It's already seeping into the walls, my memory soaking up the textures, the smells, the sounds. Storing it all in a safe to be re-opened on a particularly long night. A treasure box of remember when...

It seems like February is my transition month. For three years now, the only way I can describe February is drastic. Here I am, unemployed, moving, single. A year ago? I had just gotten a new job, my relationship was blossoming, I was moving into my own apartment. We found out Kade had a heart defect.

Maybe it's the winter. My mind is numb, my nerves are deadened. I need some stimulation.  
Well, I certainly got it.

*** 

Moments ago, I sneaked ever so quietly into Kade's room. I perched myself upon a box and watched him sleeping, sighing. His new glow in the dark pajamas shown bright and he wiggled his sweet bum in the air, tucking his legs in tighter against his chest. He has ketchup on his face, left over from our dinner date. Because of a late night at grandmas, we skipped bath time, slid directly into lullaby's and tucked ourselves quietly into the still of the night. We didn't even bother turning on the bedroom light, my hands have dressed this baby often enough that they need not be guided by light, but only by memory. This warms me. This is something I never want to forget. Something to write down and read back to myself in my old age, reminding myself of my sweet baby boy and how well I know him. I could dress him in the dark, probably in my sleep.

Admist the sadness, smack dab in the middle of a dark, suffocating hole of lonliness, there is a comfort that there will always be something I know. I know my son. I know what he likes and doesn't like, what makes him happy and what comforts him. I know how to tease him into a volcanic eruption of giggles and squirms. I know that he likes to talk when we go on walks, babbling and squealing and inquiring "Dat?" an airplane; a fire truck; a heart shaped rock;

Times like these are when I make lists- lists of things that make me happy, things that have occured lately that are precious and soothing.

Like a trip to Ikea with my sister, a "road trip," giant pieces of pizza and picking out plush vegestables for Kade to cook with.

Teaching Kade his body parts. Kade, where's your nose? Marveling at how incredibly bright he is.

Hours of "Bananagrams" with my grandma and sister. Learning absurd words and laughing hysterically when I knock down Emily's pyramid.

Family.

Late night trips back and forth to and from the laundry mat, smelling like tide and eating oatmeal cookies.

Plain and simply: watching him grow.

The theme of this post is a back and forth kind of deal- some things are hard right now. Some are simple. But I'm swaying somewhere in the middle, which is where I'm supposed to be.

Faith Never Failing

Today was laundry day. This fact is evident by the jeans I'm wearing- bought at the beginning of eighth grade, the bottoms torn and tripping me as I stride through the grocery store. The fact that I used a t-shirt to dry my face this morning? That just drives it home- It was most definitely laundry day. I enjoy the smell of tide. I like hanging my shirts to dry, the way my room perforates downy for the entirety of the day. I like pulling the clothes out while the dryer is still running, folding them still hot, and tucking them into the deep drawers of my antique dresser, still warm and free of creases. I iron Kade's button down shirts and hang them on crocheted hangers, ready for anything. Doing laundry is bliss to me, the perfect way to start a day like this one.
There is, of course, an ebb and flow. Yesterday, I was full of doubt, today I feel like a floating free spirit. I knew that was going to happen. God has these funny ways of nudging me along, reminding me always that right around the corner is something new.
I'd like to add here that I'm still in the middle of an infuriating writing funk- it happens.
I'm looking forward to the next month: a new beginning, more time for sewing, simplicity at it's finest. The hustle and bustle that has been my life the past year is being overshadowed by a revolutionary idea: Slow the heck Down. Have you ever tried observing things as if you had opened your eyes for the first time? For example, Kade always observes things with a fascination that I crave. He intently stares at objects (old or new), wants to know the texture, if it makes noise, how it works, the each and every cog and wire that fabricates whatever whatcha-ma-callit he's got in his little fingers. When did we lose that passion? Perhaps, as we get older, we get so accustomed to things, ideas, thoughts, that we don't appreciate them anymore. Sound familiar? I don't want to do that anymore. I want to wrap a quilt around my shoulders and appreciate every thread holding it together, I want to smell it, to note the way it lays, stiff or soft. I want to finger paint. Sound crazy? It might be- but when was the last time you dipped your hands into a deep plastic cup of paint and went nuts on a piece of construction paper? These things keep us young.

Be barefoot, forget to brush your teeth sometimes, drink your coffee as sweet as you like it- with real sugar. If I see splenda in your hand, you'll be scolded sister. Make a crown from flowers and twigs. Go swimming in the river. Or, if your really desperate, do them all, at once. If that's what it takes to get a little spring back in your step, then please, for the love of Pete, DO IT.

My day was overflowing with good vibe, ebb and flow type stuff. Kade and I joined my Mama for lunch, snow flurried down as we indulged on Mormon Muffins and roamed through the shops. I bought fabric to make Kade a new bedding set. I bought valentines. I went to the grocery store and filled my cart with fresh fruit and a bottle of laundry detergent (needed after how much laundry I did this morning). Birthday cards for my brother and sister lay on the desk, anxiously awaiting a kind, sincere message to be scrawled across their textured insides. I seized the day, Kade's yellow raincoat was removed and replaced so many times his head was spinning. We were in, we were out. We were happy campers.

To make up for yesterdays disaster of a diet, Chef Kade made dinner tonight. Tortellini, sweet potatoes and chicken. He was in heaven.

We used the "Good China." 

 

I also turned this: 

  

into this: 

Hallelujah! We're getting closer. 

***

Kade didn't want his picture taken today. He was a ball full of energy, but when the camera came on, he was a turtle in his shell. Stop it, Moooom. 

Kade-stay-cation

Smack dab in the middle of a serious, no, a chronic case of writers block, I find myself frustrated and exhausted. Boxes are stacked in my living room, Cheerio's are smashed into my carpet, and our oh-so-energetic-college-student neighbors are throwing a party; on a Tuesday night. In the middle of this, I sit in the same sweats I wore to bed last night. My hair is a twisted, curly mess, the rubber band barely containing it, a thick knot at the nape of my neck. I stared at this screen for freaking ever. What sort of inspiring words do I have tonight? You have to write something! Jessica, pull it together dude. So, here it is, the grand theme of today: Sometimes, no matter how hard we try or how well we display this put together facade of "such a good mom," we have our off days. When I say we, I mean we. Please, someone side with me here and concur that you are a pledged member of the Actual Person club. Kade had Nutella for breakfast. He ran around in a diaper and socks the entire day. He ate TWO huge cookies, one after another and when he didn't want his nutritious dinner (which I prepared in a last ditch effort to salvage the day), I caved and let him fill his belly with tapioca and buttered rolls- chocolate milk on the side.
You see, for all the days we find ourselves breaking a sweat dancing across the kitchen, making pancakes, coloring crayon masterpieces, going on walks... we have these days. When such days come to a close, I find myself tired and a little bit (forgive me) ashamed.
Oh boy, now I've opened a rather large, squirming can of worms. I feel inept and weary and if I were to write a review of my day, it'd go something like: Girl, you could have done more, you could have tried harder. Slow Down, for gracious sake. But, the truth of the matter is that while I sit in my sweats, suffering from a rather infuriating bout of writers block, pausing every third word and backspacing vigorously, Kade is asleep on the other side of this white textured wall. Last time I peeked in on him, he was covered in sleep lines, like little canyons dancing across his cheeks and shoulders. His arms and legs are tucked under him, his bum straight up in the air, and Dotty sits guarding him, just inches from the top of his flushed face. Obviously, he isn't as enthralled in shame as I am. In fact, I think it's safe to say, after reviewing today's photos, he had quite the relaxing day- sort of a Kade-stay-cation. He likes tapioca pudding, he'd much prefer some chocolate in his milk, thank you very much, and he'd rather run around the house clad in a kangaroo printed diaper than his jeans and t-shirt any day. I suppose this post was more for me than for you, dear readers: a reassurance for myself that while I may feel down, tomorrow is another day, full of opportunity. It is okay to have off days. Off days make us human- bring us back to the raw center of This is life, and it's hard. But it doesn't have to be miserable.

Just ask this guy- does this look like a bad-day-face? 

I'd like everyone to meet our new pal, Jelly Cat. Kade parades around the house with JC in tow, patting his back and kissing his little nose. This morning, I caught a glimpse of him spooning air soup from a tiny toy pot into JC's mouth and wiping his face with a tissue. He also carries him around in his mouth- biting his ear and dragging him on the floor, choosing his old method of crawling as opposed to his bounding steps. Of course, he prefers Dotty for sleep time, but JC is his new partner in crime during waking hours. It melts me.

He pats JC's head and says, "Shhh." 

It was a particularly exhausting day- it seemed nothing got done and I had a big fat list of "I wish I had," toward the end. Some days are like this, but watching my baby nurturing his baby, tells me that I'm doing something right. It makes my heart swell with pride.

I'll be back tomorrow with a (hopefully) more refreshing post. Until then, JC got strawberry jam on him today, Mama duty calls.

The calm before the storm

The days have been rhythmic. We've swung into a slow and quiet routine of laundry and oatmeal breakfasts, quiet mornings at the coffee table with crayons splayed out in front of us. The weather is nicely accompanying the quiet- partly cloudy, chilly, a little bit of rain. I'm going to call this the quiet before the storm- the storm of change that is without a doubt hurling our way. Soon, things will be very different. The storm is big and black and hanging heavy over our heads, a constant reminder that things will never be the same again. But the thing about storms is they always pass.  Until then, we will continue to fill our days with snack times at the laundry mat and slow dancing in the living room to Ella Fitzgerald. We tap our toes, wrapped in wool socks and moose slippers, across the kitchen floor. We snap our fingers and throw our hands up in celebration that we are together- Kade and Mommy take on the world, one cup of chocolate milk at a time. The story goes like this: Things get hard, but I will forever have my little guy, my own little cheerleader. We will remind one another that there is much to be happy about, millions of things to be excited for, to look forward to. There are Lego castles to be built, sidewalk cracks to jump over, and many a peanut butter sandwiches to eat. We makes toasts at breakfast- to baths! to bananas! to raincoats! to Dotty! This leaves very little room for worry. The spaces are already filled. Our no-vacancy sign is up.

There is a balance. I've spent the last few weeks prioritizing, paying bills, buying a car seat, a new dress, going bowling. I've held fast to my opinions, worked diligently on my morals, stayed out past midnight, sticking up for myself where I used to shrivel down. And that is happiness, isn't it? To have balance between self and others, bills and bubble baths, dishes and coffee- it's important life stuff.

There is a lump in my throat- words trying to escape but being pushed back by reassurance. Reassurance that words not be said unless they are truly meant- as they can't be taken back and may be forgiven but not forgotten. A new life lesson- think before you speak- a reminder that there is a new, stronger self on the other side of this lump, waiting to be pushed forward.  You know, silver lining type of stuff.

I hope I can teach Kade the importance of balance, the importance of standing up for what you believe in, the courage to do what's right, even if it hurts. I hope I can teach him to laugh, to tell the truth, to be polite and kind. Through all of the hardships, I hope I can set a good example for him- to be strong and confident, to take care of business with grace. Life throws hard and fast balls, you have to catch them and toss them right back.

Of course, he teaches me these things too. How could I possibly be upset with this little "turkey" grinning at me from ear to ear? Thanks, little dude.

Things are changing, sure. But we're going to take this in stride, conquer our fears, show ourselves and each other that together, we're two peas in a pod. And together, we can take on the world.

Things are rhythmic but for now, they are perfect. Hanging in suspension between now and soon is right where we're supposed to be. Waiting patiently while the storm continues brewing- wearing our rain coats and dancing in the puddles.

Climing the Ladder

When I was younger, I made lists even more so than I do now. I was fifteen, sitting at my desk and gripping a #2 so tightly my hands would be raw- my face just inches from the college ruled paper of a composition notebook. I imagined how my life would be when I was a "grown up." I played out each scenario with incredible attention to detail. Characters flew from the pages; a doctor, a writer, a fashion editor, a single mom working three jobs... The possibilities were overwhelming. But each time, reading back at the life I had invented, there was something missing. That something, I realize now, is me. You don't get to decide what happens to you in what order. I always wrote about the outcome- listing what my home would look like, the type of friends I would have, the places I would travel. Never did I think about the years of college I'd endure, the trials, perhaps the death of a friend or family member. I guess you could say I was naive. A friend once told me, "You never see the ladder. Only the roof." And although I thought I knew what she meant, I turned a blind eye from it. Perhaps because I didn't agree but perhaps because I didn't want to see the truth.

So, now I see the ladder.

Here I am, a mother. I always imagined myself as a mother, regardless of profession. But once again, I didn't think about how you get there. You have an idea that the doctor hands you a pink, wailing baby and instantly you are a mother. You have the instinct! You know just what to do and what to say and no, you don't need help! You're a mother! You can run on no sleep, cook dinner and breastfeed simutaneously, exercise at five am every morning while entertaining your infant with nursery rhymes. You so got this, dude. This is a fairy tale, as much as we wish it true.
Being a mother is something you work hard at; you feel emotions that don't compare to anything you've ever felt before. You can't believe how much love you can have for one single person. Let alone a person weighing only four pounds, in my case. Sometimes, as a mother, you feel inept. You wonder how on earth you can teach them all the important things in life. Like don't worry, spend time outside, be honest... You may question why God chose you. But I think that's a big and very important part of it all- to question. It shows integrity. Tonight, I rolled, quite literally, across my carpet with a freshly bathed toddler. He tangled his fingers up in my hair and made silly faces. He put his nose up to mine and stuck his tongue out when prompted Kaderbug, where's your tongue? We played with pots and pans, whipped up grand imaginary feasts and sipped on Air Soup. At the end of the night, as bed time loomed, there was an understanding between us. Time to settle down, pick out a book, cuddle with your Lovey.. And there was a moment of connection- of infinite love and comfort and nurturing. After a story, I cradled him in my arms and sang the familiar lullaby that has lulled him to sleep for these past eighteen months. Yes, tonight, I feel like a mother.

And, It is glorious.

If I ask Kade to smile for the camera, this is what I get. Hammin' it up like only he can. 

Can we just appreciate these eye lashes for a moment? Holy Cow. 

One of Kade's favorite games right now is "Knock Knock." He shuts the door, Mama knocks. He opens it in a fit of laughter and hurries to shut it again before I can get in. 

I think the same idea applies to being yourself as well as it does to being a mother.. Who I am now is who I've always been, but it's taken time and experience to realize who I am and what I'm capable of. In your core, the very depths of your soul, you are you. But realizing how to grow from your base, that is what life is about. I only hope I can make it to that great moment of Self-Realization. To pull up the mental curtain and see myself raw. One step at a time, baby.

***


I'd like to say something about the meaning of the word No. I've been so careful to only tell Kade No if he's in danger and it sure has paid off. If Mama tells this baby No, he stops what he's doing immediately, puts down anything he's holding and waits for further instruction. That is incredible to me- one of those "Hey, I did a good Mama thing.. huh." However, if you tell Kade NO when he's obviously not doing anything wrong, he responds with a face kinda like this one:

 

This is also his "But mama I want licorice for breakfast" face. 

Oh be still my heart. 


 *** 




I'm in the middle of a lengthy process of reclaiming my belongings. My lease is up in a month and I find myself drowning in knick knacks and clothing I forgot I even owned (Some of it, wondering why I ever owned). This week is about getting rid of the old, starting with the new. I've got a Donate, Keep, Throw Away system that I'm sticking to and it feels pretty fantastic to purge away all the things that aren't important. With a recent injury to my back, I've got two weeks off work- a wonderful opportunity to take care of myself and get things squared away for an upcoming move.

Things are chug-a-lugging, as always.
I think I can, I think I can.

In Time, My Friend

Over and over I sit in front of this post and attempt an eloquent version of the last week of my life. It's not pretty but as with all things, there is a hidden beauty. There is a spark- a hint of relief and a weight off my shoulders. The pages are still blank but there is a miraculous feeling of the words still being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.



There are times in life that you want to throw your hands up, a giant gesture of I-freaking-give-up. Sometimes, it's one thing after another; you're doing your best, trying hard, and then... You make a mistake and everything you've ever known is pulled from beneath you. You're suddenly falling, arms flailing, reaching for anything close to grasp on to for dear life. And then, after some time, you find solid ground. And your feet, not used to the soft plush of the grass, will walk timidly and you might be a little sad- missing that place in the clouds that you were so urgently yanked from- but with a little time, you begin to feel the dewy coolness of the grass on your feet, your toes feel the warm, damp soil, slowly your sesnses come back and  you start running. Of course, this is a metaphor.

For every ending, there is a new beginning. A chance to rebuild relationships where old ones have crumbled. A chance to take care of yourself: take more baths, read more books, go on walks, have coffee with a friend. There is something tremendous to be said about time. Time is our friend at night, when we awake and peek, nervously at the clock only two o'clock! I still have all night.. Time is our enemy when we wake up late and find ourselves rushing through the morning. But most importantly, time is the healer of all things. Time wraps around your heart and very slowly begins stitching it back together, careful not to leave one thread dangling, tying tiny little square knots, and snipping the ends. Isn't time the true ruler of life? Of all things?

You have to fill up that time, of course. With gardening, pancake mornings, pillow fights, an endless sea of books and bubble baths.. things that make you happy, things that bring you back to your center.
***

This little guy? He's quite the little character. Lawd Help Us.

A requirement of being "almost two:" A Very Messy Face, All Day Long.

While the rest of the state deals with flooding, we got this little skiff of snow, which has already melted. It's been warm enough not to wear a coat and my winter To-Do list sits untouched- How are we supposed to go sledding without powder?!

Making pizza at Grandma Danielles house. Yum!

In time, you could lose yourself. But in time, you will find yourself again. And you will be timid. You might be sad. But, you will heal and you will find solid ground again.



Resolutions For Your Soul

Two years ago, I sat in my old apartment, sipping blue Kool-Aid and deciding my New Years Resolutions. I jotted down big things, goals that would take time and money and upon reviewing them, I crumpled the ink stained paper in the palm of my sweaty hand and threw it in the trash can. Who was I kidding? I wanted to go to school, get my license, own a car, get a new job.. It seemed like far too much accomplishment for one year. I sloughed it off- forgot it for a few short months. That is, until, it started happening. I was made known of my pregnancy only a few short days after tossing that college ruled into the trash. And all at once, it seemed, I was going to college, getting my license, and Ian's dad bought us our first car. As far as my new job went, Kade was born that summer- motherhood, being the ultimate, life long occupation became a second nature to me. And at the close of the year, I thought back to that list. That list that I had deemed so impossible; how I had so little faith in myself. I learned something that I will never forget or let falter, Do Not Underestimate Yourself. I made a list of material things, and received them, sure. But what I really received was faith in myself, patience and effortless grace through trial and adversary. And that is what bettered me.

Now that I have a job, a vehicle, a safe and warm place to live- my resolutions have changed drastically. I've added Pray, read more books, spend time outside, have holiday parties and one, rather amusing, Do Not Diet. It's terribly bad for your soul.  And these are realistic goals that will strengthen me and enlighten me. Aren't new years resolutions about bettering yourself? If your list entails "Lose weight. Keep house spotless," you're going to have hunger pains and disappointment in yourself when your too tired to do the dishes tonight. Something that has taken me years to learn, that I am still earnestly learning: Food is good for your soul. It nourishes you, it keeps you alive. You want to be healthy? Eat Good Food. You want to keep your house clean? Straighten as you go along and reward yourself with a relaxing night, pulling a mental curtain over that heaping laundry basket. It can wait.

Praise yourself. Spend more time with your girlfriends. Write thank you notes. Have waffles with powdered sugar for dinner. If you find yourself in a place of security, with all the essentials of sustaining life at your fingertips, then you've struck gold. Now, you have the opportunity to resolve what's inside. Because you can't take stuff with you. God doesn't care if your skinny, if you scrub your floors every other day- but if you are enjoying the life that he has so graciously given to you, then you are truly living.

I urge you, apart from your list of "pay bills on time, etc." Make another list- Resolutions For Your Soul. Let it be overflowing with blissful opportunities. It's good stuff, Maynard.

White knuckle the railing of each wonderful experience that hurtles your way.
Spend hours on the floor, playing, getting grass stains, flying kites, building forts, making mud pies.

 

 

Be appreciative. Write thank you cards, call just because, shower loved ones with praise and affection.

 Celebrate. Light candles on the dinner table, go out for ice cream, have parties, play board games. Applaud life and all its simple pleasures. Each day is a blessing.

Work hard. Always put your best face forward, be honest, be trustworthy, be gracious. Be a teacher, but most importantly, be a student.

Happy, Happy New Year.