Wednesay, September 29th 2010, 7:30 PM

21 weeks has finally heralded the arrival of my 2nd trimester. Or at least what I am told the 2nd trimester is supposed to be like...except add in cramping every time I am on my feet for longer than, say, a half hour and the relentless exhaustion. Other than that, I'm not not nauseous (yay!) and I LOOK pregnant which, let me tell you is awesome, see, if you've never been pregnant I'll tell you that the first several weeks are a bummer because everyone thinks you're just moody and fat.



Colin's potty training adventure turned out to be a bit anti-climactic as it went marvelously well and he's standing in front of me in a pair of Buzz Lightyear underpants he's kept clean and dry all day. Be aware that I bribed him mercilessly with jellybeans and gummibears, and we did a sticker chart, AND he is still struggling with the pooping thing. But darned if we don't all feel terrifically successful!



He's been feeling like quite the big boy and has been asserting his independence in a myriad ways. He likes to help me clean up, but he doesn't like me to tell him what to do. He hates riding in the cart at the grocery store but by the last aisle he's ready to be done. He doesn't want to take a nap but he really still needs one and so he crashes out at like 4:00 in the evening which I hate because by then I feel like it's to late for a nap for either of us but there's not stopping him. Sigh. I do like having a little boy around though, if only for the hilariously awesome things he says.



Babylove is growing big and strong! And I feel him move every morning bright and early, kicking me soundly in the bladder, despite the fact that I am carrying so high it's difficult to breathe sometimes. We talk to him in the evenings as we all pile in our big family bed and cuddle. It's a lovely time and gets me off my feet for a while.

The weather channel tells me it will be in the hundreds until well into October but I wanted a little touch of fall today so I wore what I called my "hippie mama of the world" get up. It's terrifically comfortable, and cute! However I am rapidly expanding out of it and I wanted to get one good wear in before my belly cannot be contained any longer.

On that note I will leave you with a question: what is your most creative wardrobe fix for a cold weather pregnancy? I don't want to buy a ton of clothes since winter here lasts only a short while, but I'll be at my largest when it finally gets "cold" and I want to be at least a little prepared you know?

Monday Inspiration!

Photo by Luke, Colin and I on our last day in Hawaii

Hey! Look at that! After missing last week I'm back with a whole new round of links to scare away the Monday ho-hums... Lets call this the "lamenting the fact that fall hasn't really started here yet" edition

Getting a million and one ideas to spruce up my house and make it lovely from this fabulous blog, just in time for fall cleaning!

And a million and one ideas on how to inspire a love of learning and creativity in my kiddo from this fabulous blog

Speaking of scare...see how I did that there? BHG has a whole set of fantastic DIY Halloween decorations for your house, now that fall is upon us.

I mean hypothetically it's fall, because I was oohing and ahhing over the awesome fashion at this event here in the Valley and then sighing because 90% of the people are still in tank tops because it's 104 degrees today.

Getting ideas for quick and easy dinners because freakish heat that lasts this long makes me less likely to cook.

Perhaps to escape the heat we can visit here because gorgeous!

Whatever the case, all the heat makes for excellent indoor dance party times!

Title

photo by Luke taken on our 3 year wedding anniversary

It took a pregnancy hormone fueled emotional meltdown to get me to write today. The meltdown was last week, but the takeaway lasted.
So here I sit, eating gummi bears that should be hoarded for potty training rewards and wondering where I begin...
I am not yet 30. My nails are chewed down to the quick, my arms are freckled, my toenail polish is chipping off. My breasts are striped with the marks of 4 pregnancies: 2 failed, 1 in process, and 1 marvelous failure of a successful labor and delivery winning me a gorgeous ball of 3 year old boy. My heart is criss-crossed with the slashing scar of the heartbreak of a divorce before 25, the myriad remnants of a thousand cutting remarks made by a man who was also to young to be marrying anyone, the deeper wounds of a high school relationship fraught with screams and fists and emotional terrorism and yet there too is the soothing balm of marrying my best friend in the world...1 year after I ended my first marriage, the healing over of those old wounds at the hands of a man whom had seen me through the initial injuries, who loved me despite my trauma. My long brown hair has been purple, has been less than an inch long, has been salted with silver since I was 19 and I have permanently marked my body with ink 10 times, I will do it 10 more times before I am finished with that particular obsession. I am legally blind without my glasses, I wear no jewelry except my wedding ring. I have been a million different people in the last 5 years and therein lies the breakdown.
I have been daughter: once
Sister: once
cousin: dozens upon dozens of times over
wife: twice
mother: spoken aloud only to one, but felt 4 times over yet.
I have been Christian and Liberal and Feminist and Friend and Lover and Confidant and Mentor. I have been student and teacher. I have been lost and found, Sane and Mentally ill.
I have worn a million labels, been a million things to a million people and last Friday, on a non-descript hot September day I lost track of who I was to myself.

Does that even make sense?

I have come to believe that the feminine spirit in us is what makes us elastic, capable of survival, of bending and curving and not ripping in two. There are some who have been blessed (cursed?) with it in abundance, some have just enough so that the inevitable changes in life (moving to a new home, meeting new people) don't cause them to go catatonic. I am a fairly stretchy individual.
And that has given me no end of grief in this life of mine of late.
I stretch to be the wife I think my husband wants, needs, longs for. I twist to be the mother my son needs, the mother society wants me to be. The Christian the church wants me to be, who God wants me to be. Dutiful daughter, available friend...
I stretch and bend and change and 5 years after taking an incredible risk to end a toxic way of life, I begin to believe that I am 1/3 the person I once was. That who I was, before my divorce, before my son, before leaving school was this vibrant impassioned individual and who I am now is bland, colorless, simple: mommywifegirl.
I have stretched right out of myself and into a person I don't recognize.
I wrote a letter to a dear friend trying to capture what it was I was feeling:

I read old correspondence and I can picture myself writing the things I wrote to all of you but I can't seem to muster up that energy in the woman who is typing these words to you now. As though in becoming more still, in releasing those vicious whispers that made up my specific brand of crazy, I also became thinner, paler, less like myself. And when I try and bring that old me back to life it feels forced, it feels hollow...like knocking on the door of a room you know is empty. What's more irritating is that I find that after a bit of rumination I am perfectly fine with this "less than" version of myself...and that just pisses me right the hell off.
I try not to compare the two, the woman I was had completely different circumstances than me...And I try and remind myself that the woman I am, is just that: who I am. End of story, somehow it seems less than comforting.

This hollow sound echoing back was what got me weeping the other day. The thought that I really was less than who I was. A shadow of my former self, so to speak.
I began thinking of the titles we give ourselves and how we start to limit ourselves within them and the barriers get tighter and WE're (the real we, the we under all those layers of people) squeezed almost out of existence.
I wept and raged and Luke sat by me and rubbed my back and waited it out...
And eventually I stopped because I realized that I have chosen to be here and that there is benefit to that. There is a big difference between sleeping with a new person every weekend and being so vulnerable with one person you can't imagine sleeping next to anyone but them for the rest of your life. There is a big difference between staying out all night just to see where the adventure takes you and the adventure in watching your kids face light up when they discover something new. It's investment and understanding the arc of one's own narrative. Because who I was has built who I am. That passionate, angry, fuzzy woman I was laid the foundation for the passionate, still, focused person I am. I have earned my sorrow through all the experiences that led me here but I was forgetting about the joy that accompanied it.
There is nothing "less than" about growing a family, nothing less risky or passionate or lovely than choosing the a life for yourself that is made up of good things...even if sometimes the good things seem a little bland. A little everyday.
We have to handle the repetition and monotony as gracefully as we can, and when the pockets of brilliance come, indulge. Because truly that's all anyone can ask for.

Out and About

Tonight I get to be a grownup and attend a CD Release party for a band that is friends with my husband, the talented sound engineer. Plus side of being married to the tech guy? Free entry. Minus? I have to make my grand entrance alone because my date is at the board, usually not fun at all, I feel awkward and silly and usually underdressed...
BUT this pregnancy I have really gotten into the groove of dressing up my belly. I still fit my pre-pregnancy pants (thank heavens) and own a lot of long stretchy shirts (thanks fashion!) and I have enjoyed looking at and getting inspiration from all the pregnant fashion forward ladies online!
So I have embraced wearing heels, wearing skinny jeans, and getting dolled up. I have moved away from the schlumpy fashion of my first pregnancy (sorry honey!) and have really had fun with my newest accessory (this is tongue in cheek folks) my baby bump!
I will definitely post shots of my concert attire tonight after I get dressed...though you'll have to forgive the weird angle of them, my photographer has already left to go have beers with his band. ;)





Jeans: BDG Skinny Jean in Indigo
Top: thrifted
Shoes: Hand me Downs from my super stylish sister...they're quilted leather!

Saturday, September 18th 2010, 6:45 AM

20 weeks, housedress, early morning because we have church stuff all day edition.

A night off...

several years ago, it was my habit to spend as much time as I could with people all the time. I didn't mind being alone, but I certainly preferred company. I could tell when my depression and anxiety were digging their sharp little claws into my throat because I couldn't be bothered to spend time with anyone, I had no desire to interact with people. For years I associated being alone with the singular empty throb of a downward spiral.
However as time has gone by and as circumstances of my life have moved in that peculiar winding dance that life moves in I have found that time by myself is a valuable commodity to be cherished (...especially with babylove half baked and well on his way!) Truthfully, I find time alone to be healing in a way I never thought possible. I turn my music up loud and dance as I do little odds and ends that get overlooked (like blog posts! And polishing my toenails! And packing up long overdue birthday presents to be sent all over the country!) I take time to be still and be quiet, I turn off my phone at some point during the night and I spend time with God. My prayers are scattered, like my thoughts but I always try and end with a litany of "thank you's" because now the feeling of being alone makes me grateful of the life I have, the feeling of being alone has become associated with feeling refreshed and joyful...even when I was my most sad.
Tonight Luke works late and Colin is having a sleepover with his beloved Nana (my mom) I have made a beautiful panzanella from heirloom tomatoes and french bread, I have some fresh mozzarella and an hour long playlist of music that I adore. I got a few quick texts from a dear friend who has promised me the most recent chapters of his novel (give it 2 years, this book will be topping bestseller lists, it's just that good) and so I will tuck in, re-read his book from chapter one and enjoy my music...
And a little later, much later than I would usually be up I will take a little time and talk to God, I will sing my gratitude for this tiny slice of quiet, for my lovely life.

Morning Music