The Extraordinary Ordinary

A Plant Momaphor

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 14:30:00 +0000

Sunday~November 8, 2009

I've never been able to keep a plant alive.

It's not that I forget about the plant, ignore it, leaving it thirsty. It's more like I over think it, water it too often, and prune it too much.

I'm a recovering control freak.

I thought about this today as I (conservatively) pruned a plant of ours that's been living a record amount of time in my care. This plant was given to me after my Grandpa died, and I was afraid from the start that I'd kill it. The difference this time is that I'm being less careful. I'm holding back when I start to worry if I'm doing it just right. Should I water it again, does it seem droopy, the edges of the leaves are getting a little brown, maybe I should move it....

No, I say to myself. It's fine, it'll be fine. I've simply been letting it live, even when a little brown colors the corners of it's leaves.

Quite a metaphor for life, I think. I so often want to panic or jump ahead or fix things before they need fixing. In motherhood, I'm probably a bit hyper-vigilant, calling the doctor before I really even know if there's a problem, or discussing what to do about this or that endlessly with my husband. Like any mother, I mull over how I can shelter my boys from pain, or I work really hard at relieving that pain when it rears it's inevitable head. I've been learning slowly to have more of a go-with-the-flow approach to parenting, but when fears creep in, I have a tendency to over-think things. Of course, these boys mean so much to me, I sometimes mistake controlling their world as a form of love.

That's when I find myself with that familiar non-green thumb impulsivity welling up in me, when I feel the need to grab the watering can and scissors and take care of business, thinking I'm the only one on the planet that knows exactly what to do and how to do it. A person can really screw things up that way, controlling the life right out of things, people, decisions, stealing away what the experience or lesson was meant to be.

This one has a whole lot of brown at the top, I better take care of that. Snip. This one's a little yellow, only I know exactly where to cut it. Snip. This one's probably killing the plant. Snip. I have to help get it just right or we'll be wrong, snip snip snip...

until there's nothing left,
no growing or flourishing,
no sprouting out of the ground and reaching toward the sun.
No life.

I believe my boys will be watered and pruned exactly as they should be, even with a little brown around the edges of their leaves, the color of fear, mistakes, and pain. Letting go of control means trusting that the brown will be pruned away in it's own time, no matter how green I think my thumb is, and despite the thousands of unknowns that loom over my 'plants.'

The plant I was given after my Grandfather's funeral means more to me than any plant I've ever had. I suppose that's why I hold back on all that extra watering and pruning. I've learned the hard way what happens when I do that, and this plant means too much to allow myself to get in the way. This time, I'm simply meeting it's basic needs and stepping back.

I guess that's what I'm trying to learn as a mother too, holding myself back and allowing my little plants to flourish, to live and learn, because they mean so much to me. Sometimes that's terrifying, even now in these early years, and I know it's only going to get harder. But I suppose that means I'm truly living too, all that brown around my leaves getting pruned away.

Snip.

The Saturday Evening Blog Post

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 12:25:00 +0000

Saturday, November 7th, 2009

It's time for The Saturday Evening Blog Post with Elizabeth Esther. This is a chance to choose and share a post of your very own from last month. You can head over to Elizabeth Esther's lovely space if you'd like to see which post I chose to share from my October archives, and/or to share your post.

Have a good weekend!

(COMMENTS ARE CLOSED ON THIS POST)

Glasses for Asher: A Picture Story

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 13:49:00 +0000

Thursday~November 5, 2009

He saw the world through new eyes,

had ice cream for a Getting Glasses Celebration,

got the wiggles out because of the sugar from the
Getting Glasses Celebration,

and then he said CHEESE a lot to appease his
Mother Who Snaps a Gazillion Photos.

Then last night as the sun set
so did his love for his glasses.

I said you get to wear them again tomorrow
and he said NO.

I put them on him this morning and he didn't seem to mind them.
PHEW, I said.

Then I turned to look at him
and he was doing this...

Yes, less than 24 hours after the Getting Glasses Celebration,
the spectacles are completely bent and no longer can be placed on the noggin.

Oh my sanity, I'll miss you.

(He's too cute. I can't even stay mad.)

Mulling House

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 20:00:00 +0000

Wednesday~November 4, 2009

Miles keeps coming home from school with pictures like this one:

and this one:

He's been thinking a lot about what it means to "move house." He's been listening closely while his mom and dad talk about showings and rush around cleaning for those showings. He's been listening even more closely when we talk to him about the possibility of selling. We've worked hard at pointing out all the positive things about moving, should it actually happen. He's the kind of kid that needs to mull over these things and then look at the bright side of saying goodbye.

So am I.

When we got two offers last night we didn't think too much about the possibility of selling because the offers were very low. We countered the higher of the two offers, bringing the number nearly back to our original asking price. Then we said well, that's that...maybe someone else will see what a great deal this is...

And then we sold our house.

They took the counter offer.

I am freaking out.

Just so you know.

Excitement, shock, grief, happiness, fear, and joy. I felt all of those things in the moment that Ryan called and said we sold it, sweetie. It sold.

This is the way I am. Emotional. For me, moving house is a really big deal. Especially moving cities. But it's good. It's all so good.

So, if you live in my hometown, we'll be moving in December 29th. Please bring chocolate.
And if you live in our other hometown, the one where I sit right now, I'm really going to miss you. Please bring chocolate.

WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!!!! We actually sold our house!!!

(Can you tell I'm mulling this over?)

Go Bananas

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 10:00:00 +0000

Monday~November 2, 2009

Asher was just standing here driving me crazy, the way he was demanding a banana.

He shouts and he screams! I sigh and boil.

Then I turn to look at him and I see how he sticks his tongue all the way out to say nana, and it totally cracks me up.

What Asher gives off, his contagious joy, even trumps sibling rivalry. Most of the time.

It was right around this time last year that we found out he has hydrocephalus. (If you don't know what that is, it's what used to be called "water on the brain," where valves are not doing their job of getting fluid to the spinal cord...in short. Asher had a brain shunt (a valve that works) put in last December.)

From October, when we got the news, to December, when he had surgery, we really had no idea what to expect. I don't know that we even really understood what was happening. It was a blur of appointments with a neurosurgeon pointing at cat scans and saying things like, "Then we'll pass through here, to the center of his brain and tubing will be put in through his neck to his abdominal cavity," and oh my mothering heart was constantly weeping.

Just look at him now.

We were at our city's annual Halloween bash the other night and I thought, what a difference a year can make. There I was, sitting back all relaxed in our cute little Pleasantville-like city hall, all decorated with orange and black. Miles and Asher were going through the spooky tunnel over and over, and it hit me... I was having normal conversations with people, about the weather and pretty much nothing, and that felt good. Because last year at this same time I was a bundle of nerves, fresh off the phone with doctors, hearing this news I didn't want to hear. Back then, I could not stop telling everyone who innocently asked how are you all about my child and his upcoming brain shunt surgery, somehow slipping it into the conversation.

Seriously. Everyone. I suppose this is pretty typical, this need to be heard, for sympathy, for attention in the midst of fear and hurt.

Looking back, I can see the way I would nearly interrupt a person mid-sentence while they tried to talk about the weather. It's actually quite funny to me now...

How are you, Heather?

SHUNT! Er, I mean...fine! Shunt you for asking.

I can vividly remember the responses, some distracted or uncomfortable, and others truly feeling it with me, bringing me to tears with their big hearts in their eyes.

I can look back and laugh at how I would bring it up now because everything is OK. It's really OK. Asher is going to be just fine, even if he's not always. I'm so glad, of course, but I say that with a bit of a heavy heart because I know that there are so many people out there struggling through things that aren't even close to fine.

I think about that a lot. I've always been ~~somewhat~~ uber-sensitive to what other people are feeling, but it's even more intense now, especially for people who are struggling through medical issues with their children or have lost a child or children. I'm not tooting my own horn here, this is not about me, it's about changes in me that came about because we've gone through something like this. Something that left us waiting through neurosurgery, wanting our baby boy back, and then sitting in pediatric intensive care, watching our child suffer through recovering.

I get something I hadn't really gotten before, and due to some crazy twist of grace, I'm glad to get it.

Asher may drive me bananas with the way he demands nanas, but he is here with me. And the thing is, I'm not saying that all of us who have children that are OK, or at least healthy-ish, should feel guilty about our children's good health, kicking ourselves for ever being grumpy about bananas. I don't think that kind of guilt serves any purpose at all.

But I guess what I am saying is that we should pound the ground with thanks, and then we should listen. Because there are people out there who can't stop themselves from sharing their terrible news, the news that's always there, that horrible thing that sits on everything in their lives, engulfing. These are people who need to be heard and they should be heard and I want to hear them. I want to stand there or sit here and say I know, but I don't know. I get it, almost. I'm just so sorry, friend, because there's nothing else to say and then just listen.

That's largely why we're here, I think. To listen. To just be quiet and listen, not steering away because we have no words, but simply being there.

So let's listen, big hearts in our eyes. Most of the time, that's all a person needs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why hello! Are you new here? Did Mama Kat send you? Isn't she the best? (and I'm not just saying that because she chose my Motherhood post, really.) Thank you for taking the time to come by and for "listening" to another post. I appreciate it muchly.
You can find my posts that aren't too shabby on my Hits page. I mean, you know, if you've got all the time in the world or something. Mostly I just want to thank you for coming by. And I did that, so I'll go now...

Halloween and the magic of friends

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 01:46:00 +0000

Sunday~November 1st, 2009

They put on costumes, the kind that made them feel powerful
and brave enough to knock on the doors of strangers,
even strangers with masks and painted faces...

(well, okay. Sorta brave.)

They hurried from one house to the next,
less concerned with the fear factor
and more concerned with the treat factor...

(Superman, all covered in his coat)

They went to a Halloween party,

the kind that makes you feel like you bobbed for an apple
and got the biggest one...

with the best toys and the best view...

and good friends...(Liam, my friend Susan's sweet boy)

Halloween is so much fun...

Thank you, Susan. You brought the MAGICAL
to Halloween this year.

(That's Susan as Princess Leia AND as the Bumble Bee, pictured above.
Yeah, she rocks the Halloween party. You can visit her at Warm Chocolate Milk.)

Happy Halloween! (late)

Home

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:08:00 +0000

Thursday~October 29, 2009

We looked at six houses yesterday and we'll see five more tomorrow. In and out of the car, shoes off and then back on, opening drawers and closets in other people's homes. We're here in the place where I grew up, storing up knowledge on any house of interest, keeping track, discussing floor plans while the wheels turn on the car and in our heads between stops.

Here we are in this place that's not our home, looking at homes to make our home, away from our current home while staying in my childhood home.

Speaking of home, I watched a re-run of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition in my Dad's recliner last night. I thought about what it must be like to have this magnificent house built for you, how you'd be so overcome with emotion at the beauty of the new, and then the cameras would leave and you'd go to bed and wait for this new place to feel like home. I'm guessing it takes a little while for that to happen, a person looking around at all the crisp and clean, the perfectly decorated, feeling thankful and out of place at the same time.

I spent more than eighteen years in the house I'll be sleeping in tonight. I've returned for visits more times than I can count since I moved out. It's home. I still take the stairs two at a time even though I don't do that anywhere else because I can't stop the childhood habit. I look out the window at the same trees and smell familiar smells. Some things have changed, been updated, but to me it's almost completely the same. The home that was my home. What made it my home then and keeps it my home now is it's familiarity. It's the sameness that's a haven. The way my dad sits at the end of the big wood table with his cup of coffee. The way my mom always stands at the sink washing the dishes and yelling out the window at the squirrels jumping from the deck to the bird feeder. The dilly bars always in the freezer. The way the driveway starts to turn in the middle, passing the horses and leading to home.

My Dad built this house when I was three. I'm so connected to this place and the people in it, I still feel safe here. There have been times I've been very lost in my life, but I've always been able to come home.

I think that's what I want for my boys, a place for us to settle and stay. I want a home for our family, one we know we are going to see through. The kind of home that is so familiar that our boys can't help but take the steps two at a time to do what they've always done, rounding the corner to the kitchen to find their mom doing dishes and a little jig.

If we sell our house or not, I just want to stay there or here, moving through rooms until our roots are buried somewhere so deeply we never feel too lost to come home. It doesn't really matter where, I suppose, since it's the people in it that make a house come alive with that feeling of home.

Sunday in Kyoto

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 22:46:00 +0000

Tuesday~October 27th, 2009

Do you need some help finding children's music that won't drive you crazy? As many of you may remember, I needed that help too. Thankfully I was given many great suggestions in my comment box, and even some in my actual mailbox, like this one:

The acclaimed publishing company The Secret Mountain has done it again with Sunday in Kyoto. This gorgeously illustrated hardcover book and accompanying CD give a truly beautiful multicultural experience. Canadian singer-songriter Gilles Vigneault delivers with impressive and meaningful lyrics, and illustrator Stephane Jorisch, who has created sets for Le Cirque du Soleil, absolutely blew me away with the illustrations for this book.

This book/CD combo is deserving of all the attention from School Library Journal, AOL kids, Zooglobble, Kiwi Magazine and many more. It is the kind of art I like having around the house (or in the ~~car~~ minivan). Yes, I just called it art, because that's what it is.

Here, see for yourself. I'm betting you'll be moved like I was...

The songs on this album "evoke (Vigneault's) love of nature, culture and travel and are imbued with natural imagery as well as multinational characters and settings." - Sacks and Co.

This book and accompanying CD are just plain lovely. My boys sit enthralled by the music and illustrations and are lulled to rest on road trips with the soft melodic lullabies this album includes. I'm wondering what could be better than that?

The music is peaceful, then sometimes silly, and always capturing. The book is beautiful, truly.

Sunday in Kyoto came out TODAY, so it's available for purchase here. It would make a great gift for your children or the children in your lives.

(Just so you know, I was not compensated for writing this review, but I did receive the book and CD for free, which in this case is excellent compensation.)

Contentment

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 12:56:00 +0000

Tuesday~October 27, 2009

It's reaching in the pocket
of a coat from last year
and making that discovery,
the familiar soft paper feel of money

That heart flutter moment
I wonder if...
and then pulling it out

to find a buck rather than a twenty.

It's saying it's good either way

Not stomping or pouting
no I deserve betters
or I deserve mores

No where is my very best life?!

But instead,
it's putting that just one dollar back in,
sliding your hand to the safety of your pocket
closing your fingers over the treasure,
holding tight for safe keeping
soft and familiar
good

It's believing in the enough
of all the beautiful things in your life,
things you already have
and then it's still hoping life can
grow
multiply
loaves and fish
dreams come true
there instead of here
grass greener
change

But mostly, it's the belief held in the deepest places
that even if the hopes are dashed
no growing
no moving
no healing
no change
no reconciliation
no dream come true...
the enough is still enough
and good,
just that one soft and familiar dollar that's yours,
a thing that seems little or less without the appreciation of it's value.

It's holding that one, your life, tightly in the safety of your pocket and thinking it's more than enough.

Spinning

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 12:27:00 +0000

Sunday ~ October 25, 2009

Asher and I were on our way to pick up Miles from preschool. It was raining but not snowing or too cold and yet a car started spinning in circles across the freeway in front of us. It seemed to be floating across all the lanes while the driver tried to regain control and slow down.

You know how when something like that happens, about a million things go through your head, from how you're going to somehow not hit the circling car, to what you're going to do to make sure you hit them on your side and not your child's side, to oh dear we're going to die and I was not nice at all to Ryan this morning?

Yeah, I was doing that, because it was really close. Thankfully, we missed each other by a few feet, and then...silence. Perfect silence.

It was the kind of close call that left me sitting for a moment on the shoulder, cars flying past us while I regained my composure. I was shaking so that my foot didn't want to drive and I started to cry. I couldn't help it, the stress came out my eyes.

The panic of the moment and the stress of having our house on the market and ten showings in eights days. Of cleaning constantly and trying to stop the big messes from happening all day, every day. The pressure to feel like we're doing the right thing even though I really have no idea and it's a really big deal. It built up and came out my eyes.

To be honest, our life feels really out of control lately, in many ways, moving or not. These things are driving me to spin with my thoughts, our days out of control, emotional upheaval, stress, disconnection, impatience, stress...It's as if I must think of everything to make sure we don't crash, to cover all our bases...seat belts buckled, air bags on...think think think.

Spinning.

It's hard when there's no time to come to a stop and sit in silence, regaining your composure, breathing, praying and sitting still. But sometimes there's no time for it. So for now, to be honest, I'm showing up to school late, limping with my broken foot, hair all wonky and still shaking from a near miss on the highway. I've got make up under my eyes from the releasing of stress and I'm stumbling over my words. I appear a bit not okay, and I don't like it.

But just in time, there are reprieves, little glimmers of safety and light at just the right moments. Like when I was driving my boys to a Halloween party and they fell asleep. I drove aimlessly to let them escape all the cleaning and getting out of the house we've been doing, all the stress from grown-up things that make no sense to them. Then I got a phone call from a dear old friend, telling me that she's engaged and I heard joy in her voice and couldn't stop smiling after we hung up, the happy coming out my eyes. I drove along and couldn't get enough of all the fall colors, and then I noticed it...the silence. Perfect silence.

So we drove and we rested and we weren't spinning quite so fast. I looked in the rear view mirror at peaceful faces and thought about these moments of mercy, ones that bring me back to peace, a gasp of air, before the spinning starts again.

~~~~~
P.S. Two more bright spots in this week:

1) I got to talk to Lee for a long time, and once again she encouraged me to take a compliment and believe in myself, and then made me laugh. Friendship totally rocks.

2) This post by Sarah at Momalom. A-MA-ZING. I really do have "a very wealthy life."

Free writing with Miles

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 19:46:00 +0000

Friday~October 23, 2009

Below you will find a piece of writing penned by myself and my inspiring four year old, Miles. We took turns. I asked him to start the story and when he would pause, I would pick up from where he left off. Then he would pause and I would take a turn. Then he just ran with it all on his own, rattling off the story almost faster than I could type.

So I give you...

Spider Went Into Someone's Hand
(title by Miles)
(Kristen, aren't you glad I didn't say ear?)

(Miles begins the story)
"There was a spider and everybody came and the spider went out. And then the mom came in and then the kid came in."
(Then it was my turn...you get the idea.)
"The spider's name was Frank. He was hairy. He was black. He ran away when everybody came in because he was afraid of their feet stepping on him. So the mom and the kid were alone in the room, but they saw the spider leaving to go to..."
"He was going back to his area he actually lived, he was going into a restaurant."
"And there he found his incredibly large spider family."
(and then he hits a streak that cannot be stopped)
"With his web all maked because that's where he lived so he saw the planet so he went out there with his parents to do something because he was alone all the time... because he thought he would get stepped on. He was worried about his mom and dad getting stepped on. Because he got smooshed already and came back alive but when he woke up he saw his parents were still smooshed so he came back to help them get alive and woke them up. So the God spider came and they could see him because he was actually real. So yes, the people's God came and he was not invisible and then he went back to his home to do the same thing he was doing. And all he did was what he did.
(Phew)

The End.

After we were done he said, "How 'bout we break down the title?"

I said, "Um...OK, what do you mean by that?"

"Say that it came from us just doing our own thing on our own blog."

You got it, kid.

You should have seen how he would beam with pride after his turn. He's a total rock star.

I highly encourage you to give this a try with a kiddo or two. I mean, if you feel like it.

I hope your weekend is good.

Motherhood - Part Two

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 12:53:00 +0000

Thursday~October 22, 2009

I don't know how to how to be a mother, really.
I don't have all the right words to tell them
I don't know how to teach them
hardly ever

words and orders
my rules
obey!
repeating and explaining

Or
even more
how I live
how I speak
they will know and do and be
because of what I'm doing, not what I'm saying.

Tall order
living out what you say is right and good so they will act like you
because they will act like you.

I'm so often saying one thing and acting quite another thing out.

That's the pressure in motherhood for me, the thing I worry over getting right.
Not when they potty train
junk food
paci
TV
co-sleep
ECFE

Maybe those things matter, but only for a time and then they don't.

When I say I want to allow myself to fall into motherhood, I'm not talking about losing myself, I'm talking about allowing myself to be changed by it in the ways that I am meant to be changed so they will see it and want to live it too.

Being kind
Less Afraid
More vulnerable
Safe place.
Secure
Confident
Choosing happiness

Motherhood is all about changing. Our children, they change overnight, growing and learning and being more all the time.

I get scared that I won't have enough time to make sure they understand what I'm saying but not living out. I hate it that my own growing up takes so much more time, that they may be gone before I've finally allowed myself to be the best version of me. Because the trickiest thing is that mothering is such sacrifice and there are so many demands in the daily grind, it leaves very little space and time for the growing up of me. There is no option other than slow to grow, when a mother is almost always buried in serving and trying to love it, distracted from herself. So, the cocooning process is terribly long, at least for me.

I make it no secret that I believe in a graceful God, one that takes our slow process and the ways we fail and redeems it, making butterflies out of sighing grumpy mother caterpillars,

up in the air.

And this is Grace, my children, already seeing me as that butterfly, even now on my slow-belly crawl through time.

And this is Motherhood, a chance to see myself through those merciful eyes of my children, and then live what they see, what I didn't see without them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post was sitting in my drafts, afraid to rear it's head. Then I was inspired to finish it by MamaKat and her writing prompts on Motherhood over at Mama's Losin' It. So here it is, out of it's cocoon, if you will.

Motherhood

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 12:44:00 +0000

Wednesday~October 21, 2009

Motherhood

For me, it looks just like this...

Just one thrilling load of laundry and bag of garbage at a time!

Or not.

Motherhood

For me,
it looks like this,

"GOOD JOB, HONEY!" (high-pitched and syrupy sweet)
Or not.
(he may look terrified, but he's just really really excited)

Motherhood
.
.
.
Maybe it looks more like this...

Messy
Battles
Push
Pull
Mad
Kisses
Laughter
Sacrifice
Thankful
In love
Worry
Connection
Teaching
Guilt
Prayer
Giving
Peace
Joy
Fear
Me
Them
Us
Always

However it looks,
losing my cool or not,
looking my best or never,
feeling down or up,
messy house,
the good, the bad, the ugly,
the beautiful, the mundane, the milestones,
the grind, and all the clashing emotions...

Good.

~~~
This post is a part of Wordful Wednesdays at Seven Clown Circus.
You will find more wordful posts on motherhood by clicking the button below.

If you're a mom, and you sometimes feel like
you just don't measure up,
you can read a letter I wrote to you
by clicking here.

We'll see how this goes

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 13:38:00 +0000

Tuesday~October 20th, 2009

It was about this time last year that we found out Asher would need a brain shunt for hydrocephalus. I'll never forget that phone call, when at the beginning, I couldn't process the severity of his condition, what the nurse was saying, and I thought it meant a mother's worst fear could be happening to our family. But it wasn't. It was hard and scary, and of course watching him go through brain surgery at the age of one was no walk in the park for any of us, but it wasn't my worst fear, and I'm thankful for that every day.

Now Asher is Mister Good-To-Go, waking in the morning and taking inventory on his household,

"Bruddow go?"

"Your brother isn't up yet, honey."

"Tia go?"

"The dog is on her bed."

"Oh."

"Daaaddyyyy!!!" He runs at him and throws himself in for a hug.

He's pure unsolicited joy, that Ash Man.

He's joy even though he's had to deal with some kind of medical issue or emergency since the day he was born. Yeah, the day he was born. I'll never forget that either. How he drank and drank my overabundance of milk that comes way too quickly, then spit up and spit up and spit up until he aspirated and ended up in the NICU, tubes being forced in, screaming, me standing to the side, helpless and wishing I could breathe for him still.

It was as if he wanted to climb back in the womb and start over, since the very beginning. He was mad with colic, the kind that lasted nearly a year, and we just couldn't blame him. Every little and not-so-little thing just seemed extra difficult for him. Reflux, a digestive system that just didn't work right, a botched circumcision...you name it.

Everything that could go wrong, seemed to do exactly that.

So when I take Asher to appointments, I'm always a bit prepared for the not-so-good news. Yesterday this meant that I sat with an eye doctor while she tried to help me understand that his eyes don't work very well. She used a lot of big words that I couldn't focus on because my two boys were throwing raisins around the room and grabbing the doctor's um...chest. I took in what I could, wrote down the big words, and came home to call one of my closest friends who happens to be an eye doctor. She spoke English instead of Doctorese and I mostly understood.

In short, Asher needs glasses now so his right eye won't stop working completely. Basically, it's not really doing much, so the risk is that his brain will tell it to stop working. It needs exercise. He needs glasses (which will be the cutest thing I've ever seen in my whole life, I'm pretty sure.) He has some other issues with eyesight, including severe astigmatism and something else I don't really understand yet, to be honest.

And so we'll help. We'll get him his glasses. It could be so much worse. I'm so glad we know so early, just like we knew just early enough about his hydrocephalus, before any permanent damage was done with all that pressure on his brain.

I guess I'll probably never, as his mother, understand why he seems to always get the short end of the stick. It seems like it's just like that for some people, and sometimes it makes me angry and other times just sad. But the thing is, he's the happiest little person you'll ever meet, so mostly I just feel a peace under all the negative emotions that I'm supposed to feel.

Everything big and small that he goes through is shaping him to be the very best version of himself. He's always had an old soul look in his not-so-perfect eyes, andI gotta tell you, I'm looking forward to being a witness to how his wisdom and resilience will play out in his life.

He's absolutely perfect just as he is.

(As you can see, he sort of likes trying on glasses...we'll see how this goes.)

This post is a part of Bridget Chumbley's Trust and The 12 Days of Libbie at Vanderbilt's Wife

I'm trying to understand this

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 18:39:00 +0000

Sunday~October 18, 2009

Tell me the story of the day I was born, he says. So I tell him every detail I can pull from the dusty corners of my cluttered mind and heart. I love remembering that day. It is our story and I tell it, glad for the asking.

He is in awe, transfixed by the words of his own beginning
he sits quiet and still
more still than seems possible for him
His favorite part is the most dramatic
the way we held our breath
to wait for his first breath
and then we cried with him
and held him and kissed him
relieved

I finish with a bang and hold him tight, and then I think about how important it is for a person to have their stories told
heard
felt
understood
written
captured
voiced
recognized
remembered

I see how his eyes light up with anticipation for the most exciting parts of his story. I see the smile pull at the corners of his mouth when I give words to the part where Daddy said over and over there he is, there he is, there he is with tears on his face. He loves that part, the part of his first appearance.

I love that part too.

In the midst of the daily grind, the mundane, the same old, our hearts cry out for stories of overcoming, of emotional upheaval and adventure. We want to feel our stories and have them felt because most of the time we have no time to feel anything at all and we were made to feel all the time but we're not.

So stories are made up.

There are balloon boys and memoirs that are mostly fiction. There are people who lie to save face on talk shows even if the opposite truth is obvious. There's producer-induced drama on reality TV, and now we have an Internet filled with alleged and confirmed story tellers of make believe, claiming their tales are true until they can't because they're caught.

A dream of making people feel, and it being about them.

We are angry and confused, sometimes hurt, making guesses at why someone would do such a thing. Money? Fleeting fame? Mental illness? All of the above? And some of us react rather than respond. We don't take the time to think it through. So that's what I'm trying to do here.

I'm trying to understand this.

I don't suppose this is new. Of course, before television and the worldwide web, there were liars. It's just that now, there are so many public ways to gain the trust of an audience and then stomp on it. And then there are so many ways for an audience to stomp and shout in protest.

What gets me is this.
Failing to see the pure magic in the simplicity of our true stories is dangerous. It leads a person to fear, and fear makes us do a lot of ugly things.

People seem so afraid that without embellishments and dramatic twists and turns, their true stories could disappear
unknown
unwritten
untold
forgotten

Some people can't handle that fear, for reasons that are a part of their own personal tragedy, exciting enough just as it is. So the loneliness that is fear is winning and they lie in hopes that ears will turn to their words, eyes lighting up.

Or maybe they just simply forget that they are valuable without the lies that are meant to entice and intrigue.

They trade their image for one built on lies, when the truth is that they are already
gifted
whole
accepted
understood
heard
without the half-truths, exaggerations, or bold-faced lies.
They are more than good enough. If only they knew.

I'm trying to understand this.

Places

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 12:50:00 +0000

Friday~October 16th, 2006

I continue to miss things about every place I've lived. Not the cities or towns so much as the walls that surrounded me through stages of life. I've moved many times, and I've always felt a bit sad leading up to the final day. I get attached to places.

Even though my apartments and shared houses were many, I can remember standing in the doorway of each and every one, looking over the empty spaces on those last days and whispering my goodbyes with a lump in my throat.

So when we put our house on the market yesterday, suddenly all the excitement faded, reality hit, and I started to grieve the spaces. My neighbors. The tree in the front yard that was planted right after Miles was born in his honor. Even the dilapidated shed out back suddenly seemed beautiful to me.

We've been cleaning up and packing up and shining up the whole lovely place for days now.

I'm tired.

Then Miles had a four-year-old breakdown that broke my heart in half. The meltdown he had included words like I don't want to leave this house and Maybe if I keep my room messy, no one else will want it

I want to reassure him, tell him all his worries are silly...but I can't because that's not true. Saying goodbye is hard.

A home is like a person, in the sense of comfort and friendship and familiarity. A haven.

We love it here and we love it where we'd like to go. Which means that if we sell, we'll be excited and sad at the same time. After all, we have much to look forward to, and much to leave behind.

So we're hopeful and prepared to grieve at the same time.

Life is tricky and exciting and scary, always. And we never really know what we're doing. I wish I could tell my sweet boy I'm certain about every move we make, big and small, but I can't.

I suppose that's why I cried when I read this, another amazing post by Billy Coffey.

If you haven't been reading Billy's blog, What I Learned Today, this would be a great day to start. He has just recently been signed with a publishing company, with his first novel due out before Christmas 2010! So head on over to his new site to congratulate him and read about his journey to becoming an author. Billy's posts are always thought-provoking and inspiring. He's got an amazing gift. I wish I had more words to describe it.

Have a good weekend!

Twitter will kill you

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 13:22:00 +0000

Thursday ~ October 15, 2009

So, we've been really busy over here, right? And now that old saying "haste makes waste" keeps going through my head because I was hastily doing all sorts of things, and then I broke myself. Haste makes waste. Of my foot. So now I hobble while I try to get things done.

That's the riveting update from here.

What you will find below are a couple of things that make me cry-laugh. I hope they make you laugh too...

If you haven't seen this, watch it before the other video. Please.
(You'll understand why later)

OK, now watch this one. Hilarity, I tell ya.
(Especially if you love Twitter
or love making fun of Twitteraholics, including yourself)

P.S. I was not tweeting when I broke a bone.
(But I will admit that I did immediately tweet that I broke myself.)

Falling

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 18:53:00 +0000

Monday~October 12th, 2009

We woke up to snow this morning. A thick with heavy snow that covers the trees and has turned everything still and quiet. A soft blanket of white like out of a painting. It's beautiful, but the early arrival of it makes no sense to my pumpkin and trick-or-treating mind. It just keeps coming down, all day long it's been falling and acting like Christmas.

The leaves on the hard-working branches need more time to deepen their colors, but they're hidden and drooping, tired. They're being pulled to their weakest place. When the wind picks up, they'll let go with a relieved sigh and then fall, they'll land gracefully despite the mystery of where they'll come to a stop.

The other day, I prayed. I wanted to know just the right answer, what is the very best thing to do that won't mean we're falling and landing in exactly the wrong place? I wanted an answer of the neon variety, a big bold thundering voice heavy-like-snow telling me what we should do.

But the voice was instead soft, like a covering, and the words there is no wrong answer here rushed their way through my suddenly still and quiet mind. That voice came with not my wisdom, but the gifted voice that is from someone else far greater. Like a gust of wind it came and went and then I smiled because of that reminder that sometimes there's no black and white answer, no wrong or right or good or bad.

Sometimes either way, thing, or choice is good and right because we want so badly to do right and lovely things, so our steps are covered with a blanket of grace and we go.

No matter how right we're trying to be, sometimes there's no neon.

There is no wrong answer here.

The unknown place we will land is already occupied by that same merciful voice.

The only choice we have is to let go with a relieved sigh and fall, landing in a neon grace, despite the mystery of where we'll come to a stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's my Dad's birthday today. So even though his internet is totally broken, I still have to say...

Happy Birthday, Papa. I don't know what I'd do without you and your merciful voice. I love you.

Frown Line

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 20:28:00 +0000

Friday~October 9th, 2009

My kids are growing up so much faster than I am.

I realized this once again because Ryan and I have been making Big Adult Decisions lately.

Big
Adult
Decisions

Ha! Get it? B.A.D...

Anyway, so much of the time, I simply can't believe I'm in the role of making grown-up decisions. Like it's all an elaborate trick, or maybe I've been hallucinating. I quite like being a grown-up in many ways, and I'm really glad that our children are not hallucinations, but still...I have a tendency to get overwhelmed by the B.A.D. part of being an adult.

Look. Even Miles notices my stress level...

(please note the frown line between my eyes)

(and the candy corn nose, I like that part.)

There's a lot on our little family's plate right now (and no, I'm not pregnant), so I'm going to have to take my B.A.D. self to task and do these very grown up things. There's a whole lot to do in a short period of time. Wish us well, m'kay?

Peace out.

Choosing Cardio Incline

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 13:10:00 +0000

Thursday~October 8, 2009

Since winter is looming, we decided to get a family membership at a local community center. I'll admit that my favorite part about the place is that it has child care. This means I can go get some exercise all on my own, a break of sorts.

To be honest, I usually don't even work out, but this whole child care thing makes it terribly appealing.

Now if only I could figure out the machines.

Let me be honest again. I get really nervous walking into the big workout center. There are tricky machines everywhere, TVs surrounding the big room with all different shows on them, and usually a whole lot of people, walking or running or riding their immobile bikes. It's overwhelming.

The other day, I walked in and quickly scanned the scene. All of the treadmills that I know how to work were in use, but of course I didn't want to stand and wait. So as naturally as possible, I hopped up on an open mystery treadmill, and acted as if I knew exactly what I was going to do.

But I didn't.

There were so many options and buttons, I just froze for a moment. Then I remembered there were a whole lot of people behind me, it felt as if all eyes were on me, watching and waiting to see if I'd push the right buttons and get moving. I reached out nonchalantly and pushed 'cardio,' which made my machine start asking me all kinds of questions with all kinds of loud beeps. I tried to push stop so I could try something easier, but the thing would just beep again and ask the same questions over and over. It even asked me for my weight, height, and age.

I BEEPED the numbers in as fast as I could, glancing over my shoulder to see all the fit young women running behind me with ease.

Then my treadmill finally started. Slowly it picked up speed, relieving me of feeling like such a heel. But because I had pushed 'cardio,' every time I took my hands off the bar in front of me, the treadmill would start beeping loudly, a message flashing across the screen, "NEED HEART RATE FOR CARDIO WORKOUT."

So I couldn't let go, or the magical handles that check my pulse couldn't do their job, and apparently it's a very important job. BEEEEEEEP!!!

I decided at one point to let go quickly to push the up arrow to pick up the pace a little. BEEEEEP!!! I increased the speed as fast as I could so I could get my hands back in their place and stop the mad beeping.

I did it so fast that I really increased the speed. Now, I'm NOT a runner, so thankfully I didn't quite have to run (or my side would have exploded), but I was walking really really fast.

(Just so you know, I have chicken legs. I surely looked ridiculous.)

Then it happened.

The cardio incline. The highest number the machine can reach, apparently.

The treadmill slowly angled up and up and up until I was walking up a very steep hill, very quickly. (I was suddenly quite thankful that I couldn't let go, let's just say that.)

I would like to tell you now that I stopped caring about the people behind me, that I let go and reached up to decrease the incline (you know, so I wouldn't die.). But I didn't.

I'll admit it. I didn't want to appear as if I couldn't handle it. So I just kept going.

I walked up that very steep hill very quickly for 30 minutes. When my legs started to feel like goo, all itchy and tired, and my heart was beating out of my chest, I thought about letting go to reach up and slow things down, but I was too afraid I'd fly right off, or at the very least, appear totally unfit.

So I just kept going, knowing I had done this to myself out of insecurity.

It was exhausting. (And hilarious, really.)

I guess I'm going to be quite fit if I do, but I don't think I'll choose that particular type of treadmill next time.

It's way too much like picking the hard road in life, just to save face, and I'd like to be done with that too.

Hey look, a chicken!

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 11:51:00 +0000

Wednesday~October 7, 2009

Yesterday, when I asked you all to share your favorite blog posts (of your very own) with me, (which you can still do here) a few of you asked me to share mine.

And then I stalled. (Sorry 'bout it.)

But you see, I knew that katdish was going to be sharing one of my favorites over on Hey look, a chicken! today, so I wanted to wait.

If you're still curious, you can head on over there for my favorite post. It comes to mind when thinking of a favorite simply because it literally wrote itself through the people around me. I had never had that experience before, putting words together without ruminating over how to do it, and then I loved the way it turned out. It taught me a lot about how good writing can be when you take the second-guessing out of it.

I have to say a big thank you to the hilarious, wise, and talented katdish for having me today. (If you happen to be visiting here via katdish for the first time today, you can find my more presentable stuff under 'hits' at the top of the page. Thank you for coming by!)

And another big thank you is in order for all of you who joined in and shared your favorite posts with me! I'm still working my way through, and so far I've been loving this trip around the blogosphere reading your spectacular posts. I've laughed and cried a lot, let me just say that, and it's a really good time...for me...since I like laughing...and even crying...I'll stop now. Peace out.

Thank you.

(comments are closed on this post)

Give me your favorite blog post. Please.

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 00:48:00 +0000

Tuesday~ October 6, 2009

I've been blogging for two years as of last Sunday. So today, when I realized the two year mark had come and gone, I went to look at my first post. It was a post that simply announced that I was new to blogging, that I'd been inspired to start a blog by my friend Kelly, and that I had no clue what I was doing.

It was riveting.

There were two comments.

I remember being completely confused by the first comment:

"It is customary in the "Blogging-Post-Commenter" community for a commenter to declare a sort of ownership of newly scripted blog posts by racing to place the first comment to said post. (Think explorer erecting flag on North Pole, Moon, etc...)

Typically, this braggadocio is rendered through a rather obnoxious, utterly avoidant of topic, singularly worded comment containing only the utterance:

"FIRST!!!!!!!!!!"

Since you are sponging up info on all-things-blog, I thought I would share this little pearl of wisdom with you...

Whilst, also, claiming your inaugural post as mine ~ for some future cyper-tally that will undoubtedly advance my place in line on the road to St. Peter!

Ha! ;)~"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I finally get it!!! Having perused the blogosphere for the past two years, I've seen this very thing in action over and over. I still don't really get why we bloggers do this, but I appreciate that my friend "C" tried to warn me.

Secondly, my inspiration for blogging, Kelly herself, said:

"ok--that first comment is way above my head so i'll just say, "Second!"

i look forward to checking in on these kiddos! i know it will bring a smile to my face evertime.

look out heather--this stuff is addicting!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hilarious. Kelly still deserves all the credit for pointing out the addictive nature of blogging. (And for pointing me in the direction of blogging my thoughts in the first place.)

Did I heed her warning about the addictive nature of blogging?

Well, we all know the answer to that one.

And still, I'm glad I'm here, addicted or not.

I've written just over 600 posts. 600. 600!

That's insane.

In my opinion, I've said something worthwhile in only about 10 of those posts. But really...I'm realizing that's just fine. Because this is blogging, and it's a beautiful way to slowly find out what it is you want to say, how you want to say it, and then say it, your way.

So anyway...I digress (as usual).

Here's what my blog wants for it's second birthday...

Are you ready?

Tell us (my blog and I) what your all-time favorite post is of your very own. It can be anything, funny and simple, profound or not. Whatever you want.

Let's keep it simple, without a linky thingy. Go look through your archives and then copy and paste the link to your favorite post in the comments.

And lastly, if you have don't have time to visit all the links, please go read the one from the comment BEFORE yours.

We do weird things in the blogosphere. We race to comment "FIRST!" in an effort to appear the most attentive. We get addicted to telling our stories and reading the stories written by friends we've never met, and then we ask each other to link up for all kinds of things.

The truth is, most of it is meant to draw attention to ourselves. So today, I'd like the focus to be on you and your favorite post. So let me have it. I'll be sure to visit, even if I'm slow about it due to children and such.

Thank you for two years of words and connection, insight, humor, and validation.

You rock the party.

Now go ahead and leave here to search your archives for your favorite, then come back and share your rockage...

Please.

From the Mouths of Miles AND Asher

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 22:17:00 +0000

Sunday~October 4, 2009

All this time, you've been hearing about Asher's noggin. Ever since we found out about that whole hydrocephalus thing it's as if his only appearance here on the blog is all about water on the brain and shunts and all that.

Poor guy. There's more to him than hydrocephalus, of course.

He's doing so well. SO well. I mean, like, I-will-scream-at-you-every-time-you-tell-me-I-can't-have-what-I-want-to-have kind of well, know what I mean? And if he doesn't agree with his brother...uh huh, that deserves a punch or a scratch or a bite.

He's got The Feisty, that Asher. He's got it.

(I should seriously post video of it, he's terrifying.)

And it is SO hard to be mad at him.

No, not because of his noggin, but because he's Asher.

He will completely fold his face into a frown and hunch his shoulders and then screeeeech his demands like some kind of crazed vulture. And that's funny. So it's hard to be mad.

Oh, and then when he's calm and collected, he talks like ET, endearing himself to us even more.

"Eaaat. Eeeaaaat." (pointing his ET finger toward the fridge.)

(Everyone scrambles to get him some food.)

Just today I went to get him (because he was screeching at the top of his lungs) after his nap and I was all, "Oh my...it stinks in here...Did you poop?"

I was hoping for an answer of any kind, since he's new to talking and all, and he gave me this ET response...

"Nooooope." (emphasis on the 'p'-pah!)

I said, "Oh. Can I smell your diaper to check?"

"MmmmHmmm," he says nonchalantly, like he truly believes there's nothing to hide.

So I stick my face in the vacinity of his bum and take a whiff like all parents do and I almost pass out.

"Oh," I say. "No poop, huh? Well, what's in there then, my child?"

Long pause.

"Diiirt."

(Laughing) "Oh really, DIRT is stinking up your diaper."

Long pause.

"Guuuum."

"In your diaper?"

"MmmmHmmmm."

"Oh OK...So let me get this straight...you have dirt and gum in your diaper?"

"MmmmHmmmm."

"Oh really. What else?"

"Boooogies."

To which I said, "MmmmHmmmm..." (and then rolled my eyes and took him to change his diaper.)

---------------

In other Mommy Blog news....

The other day I told Miles to go put his pants on.

He asked why (OF COURSE).

I said, "Well, we're having company over and when you have company over you wear pants."

He went to his room, was putting on pants and started laughing. Then he called out,

"We're having a business over, Mom? I'm putting on my pants for a business?"

Get it? Huh? Do ya get it?

Smarty pants, kid.

The Saturday Evening Blog Post

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 12:31:00 +0000

Saturday~October 3rd, 2009

This weekend I'm joining in with Elizabeth Esther for The Saturday Evening Blog Post.

This is a chance for bloggers to link up with their favorite post from the previous month.

You can head on over there to see what post I chose to share, check out some other great reads, or to share your own. (Go for it, I know you have something to share.)

Happy weekend!

(comments are closed on this post)

What I thought I wanted

fullcircle_doula@yahoo.com (Heather of the EO) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 12:04:00 +0000

Friday~October 2, 2009

I'm over at Moms Without Blogs today. Lee runs that joint, and let me tell you, she's one lovely person, that Lee. She was even patient with me saying that I was going to write a post about blogging and then changing my mind at the last second and giving her a favorite from my archives instead. She's become a friend to me, one that listens to me ramble in emails and over the phone, laughs with me, and encourages me to follow this writing dream of mine.

(If you're here from MWOB, thank you for taking the time to come by. If you'd like to read some of my more presentable posts, they're up there at the top, just a click away under Hits.)

Here's my teaser, you know, the one that will surely send you over to Moms Without Blogs to finish reading...

I'm starting to think there can be more of an ease to my life, coming from a place of contentment. I've never been that good at content, but I'm learning there's an acceptance and perspective that can free my mind of a whole lot of clutter that weighs me down....

Click here to finish reading.

Comments are closed on this post