tribute

I have joined beautiful Shannon to retake her amazing e-course Inside Out. I know that's a Big Word, but it's the truth. This course changed my life in 2010.

I wasn't really anywhere, back then. I always knew I 'liked to draw', but I never did. Because I was up to my neck in muck, crap and other self-imposed restricions keeping me from living - as opposed to existing. Really. I know it sounds dramatic, but it's true. Taking this course opened me up. It was a starting point for everything I've become and accomplished since then. Which is a lot. Still sounding dramatic, I'm well aware. But it's still true.

We've just finished the first week, and I'm... speechless! I always said I wanted to take this course again, and the fact that I'm doing it, now, is synchronicity. I have three words for 2012, and the most important one is FEEL. I want to feel what I do, and what I don't. Where I'm beautiful, and where I'm really not, so much. It's a challenge. I have never really felt my way through anything. I've tried and come close, but it's alien to me, still. This is all - hard to word, and probably worth a blog post all its own if I ever get to it ;) But what's important, what I'm trying to say is...

I thought I was going to do this course to see where I'm going. To find goals, something to dream about, and then make plans. All noble causes in themselves, and who knows, I might even get to that ;) But why I'm really here, now, is to FEEL! I have kept my Art Journal from back then, of course. And I can re-read and re-visit everything I struggled with then. Where I was, what I feared, what I thought my accomplishments and strengths were - and there weren't a lot. It's heartbreaking to read! I feel the desperation that was in almost everything I wrote, apart from being a mamma, pretty much.

And what I'm left with, here and now, is gratitude. Deeply felt. Into my toes and back up again. I have done all that! I'm feeling it! Really deeply realising that - I did all that, I came all this way to be here, where I am. Realising that this is a beautiful place, no matter what's itching at any given time.

Life of course didn't necessarily get easier, but I did. I know, these days, that I'm stronger than I think. That I can find courage to take things on, even when they're scary as hell. And that's a beautiful thing to know. It's a beautiful thing to reconnect with. And an amazing thing to feel!

I can't wait to see what else surfaces. And what I'll draw about it ;) There is always that, since 2010, too ;)

mail

Was I complaining that I wanted to have her mailbox just the other day, because she was receiving some awesome, artistic mail art, today I received this in mine!

Just to say thank you for the Christmas cards I sent out in comment gratitude :)
Robin, thank you, so very much!! This made my day, and quite possibly will make tomorrow as well :) Receiving arty mail from someone who makes me smile with pretty much every blog post she writes is... well... it makes me mushy... I'm going to go get it a frame, and look at it every day! That's how happy this makes me! At least!

Day 26

It's my birthday today, & I'm not keeping my age a secret ;) I'm not ashamed ;)

I am proud of who I have become over the years. That's not something I say lightly, not something I say easily, but it needed to be said. It's been one hell of a trip so far, but I think I'm getting closer to being who my inner 3-yr-old wanted to be when she grew up :)

This past year, including our move (in fact, the actual moving started on my BD last year!), has been the best year in a really long time :)

Today, I'm grateful for my beautiful 'old' friends, and for the lovely & amazing new friends I've met since I turned 37 :) I'm grateful for the fact that I finally feel like I've got something to offer and to share. I'm grateful that those who knew me 'when', stuck with me through a whole lot of anguish and crap.

Here's to friendship. I feel a lot stronger for knowing my friends, for finally living geographically closer to them. I always knew it would be beautiful - & I've felt SO incredibly alone without, living away from the people I knew, hardly knowing my neighbours for the previous 11 years! This is the first year I'm actually feeling in my bones what it means to have friends! I'll be celebrating you with food today, people, lots of food & cake :D

Day 6

It's Day 8 of the beautiful month of November, I realise that... I'm playing catch-up from the get-go, here. I knew this would happen, which is why I'm taking part in both Art Every Day Month and 30 Days of Giving Thanks on the QT.

As far as AEDM is concerned, doing the work isn't the challenge, so much. I seem to end up doing something creative every day, whether it's an intention (mostly), or not :) It makes me endlessly happy, that does! So AEDM is great, because it's making me aware of how much time I spend on creative projects! I tend to complain a lot about not having enough time to do all the things I want to do, and it's true: I have way more ideas than time, for sure. But I do get to my creative work. And that needs saying too :) I'm grateful for recognising what I get to do!

The challenge is in the posting about it all! Do the work, enjoy myself and blog about it, too? That's where it gets trickier!

And then there is Shannon's challenge. Giving thanks each day of November. Gratitude is beautiful. When you do it right, when you try and feel it to your toes and back, it's kind, it's soft and it's mindful. It creates space, too. Space in your heart, space in your mind and space to breathe. I know this. I've known it for a while. But I have to admit, I need practice.

It's sort of heartbreaking to be honest about this, but being grateful is really hard for me. I'm a recovering perfectionist. There are so many sides and sidelines to this that it probably warrants a whole blogpost of its own, but I'll keep it simple for now. It's hard, because as a recovering perfectionist, I'm still having a hard time letting things go. Realising that there is no shame in leaving things as they are. That there is beauty in imperfection. That I don't have to make everything better, and improve upon improvements, perpetually. That there is space to BE. And breathe. And enjoy.

To be truly grateful, you have to be able to be still. To take stock of what is; not of what's going to be better if you get to tweak just a little more. And that's hard. I'm getting better at it, but it's still hard. A challenge. One that I need. For my soul (thank you so much, Shannon, for making me aware of this!)...

This is part I of my art for November 6th. I cut myself some slack and used Photoshop Elements on the painting I made for my friend's card. After all, she wasn't happy about the design per se, but I was! I made this painting with my birthday boy in mind, and so it was always going to be for him. I had never coloured something in PSE, but always wanted to, so this made me happy :) And I'm pleased with how it turned out!

And this? This was an exercise in letting go of the inner critic :) I was going to order a birthday cake. What with all the stuff and stress on my mind, I was going to be kind to myself. And then, just like that, I decided to just go for it! I'm not a pastry chef, but I can bake a cake! It's a brownie cake with lots of real chocolate inside & on top, moist & yummy :) To be honest, maybe more in honour of me the mamma than of the birthday boy, but hey! I was celebrating being a mom just as much that day ;) And I made some coconut-banana muffins for the kids, so I'm not feeling guilty ;)

My gratitude for day 6 of thanking in November? It goes wholeheartedly to my baby boy... Who is as far from being a baby boy as any three-year-old can be :) He's awesome!! He's more and more becoming his own self, with likes and dislikes, hugs + kisses & a dead-cool sense of humour :D

He changed my life when my life needed changing most. I'd almost given up on myself and my place in this world when he came along. He made me want to be the best mamma I could be, and for that I had to become. Full stop. I had to re-invent myself, drag myself up out of the mud by the ears and start believing in myself. You have no idea where I was. Neither do I. But I do know that I'm here, like this - getting stronger, wiser and more true to myself every day - because this amazing little boy, this gift came into my life when he did, three years and 2 days ago...

That's gratitude from my toes...

ritualistically

1976

two

Mr Funny Pants turned TWO last Saturday! Two whole years of having this beautiful boy in my life, two years since becoming a mamma! It's been amazing, awesome, wonderful, crazy, weird (in a good way, mostly!), wild; it's a continuous learning curve that's blowing my socks off!

I love it! I LOVE my baby boy, who is most definitely not a baby boy anymore, but will forever be my baby boy :)

Thank you so much for being you & being here, Squirt! You've made my world a much better, more fun, happier, softer & kinder place to dwell in :)

headless

Not an ancient site in Rome. Just a garden-variety mishap. Quite literally. The back garden in fact. Poor little plaster(?) lady who'd been hanging out on our garden table long enough to gather mossy bits... When it happened, I almost cried!

But wait - I can sort of explain that. Really. A few days before this incident, a little rose quartz heart I had been carrying around in my pocket for luck (quite obsessively), fell on my toe when I forgot to take it out before taking off my jeans. Ouch!

The next day, I knocked the bottle of rose water my mother gave me when Squirt was born (yeah. I know. But never mind that now) off the ledge where it - granted, precariously - had stood ever since I'd come home from hospital.

And then, this happened. Decapitation no less...

I saw signs. And they weren't good. I caught myself, standing puzzled, wondering what it all meant. Feeling I was surely headed for some great disaster...

But before you start to worry about my sanity - here it comes: the anti-climax. The soppy bit - the wisdom in the center of the bowl of oatmeal. I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. And I decided that - if it meant anything at all, it would be that I should stop looking for signs in the weird little accidents happening around me - to stuff. Stuff I was holding onto, holding dear, for no other reason than the idea that it all meant something. I decided then and there, that I should trust myself much more than the stuff I've been holding on to.

Paradoxically, I wouldn't be me if I didn't think that is exactly what these signs meant ;)

So I took the dear lady & her head, and glued them back together. They're inseparable for now - for as long as the weather lets the glue hold. Just hanging out on the table again.

I've made a mental note, though: if this chick loses her head again, it's more to do with the quality of the glue than with any sort of misery looming. Not sure similar guarantees apply to this here chick losing sense of perspective again - that happens on & off... I'm getting over myself though; one garden-variety mishap at the time!

Anyone else out there, putting too much stock in signs? I totally understand if you don't feel comfortable facing up to it all here - I only wrote this post so you know you're not alone ;)

hug

I haven't come to terms with the appearance of pink - quite yet. But I've decided to take it like a fugitive - on the run. Will see where it leads and deal with it later ;)

I did however embrace something else the other day - my perfect little toddler, walking shoes and all! Hugging him as much as he lets me and savouring every precious inch :) Just thought I'd share that, in the interest of nothing but mamma love & absolute, undiluted happiness :D

sweet(s)

Man supports me wholeheartedly on my Quest, by the way! He's not much of a Digger himself, and to be truthful, he's got a lot of things down - pretty much pat. But he is a man, and as far as I can see, that does help...

On the hardest day, he took Squirt out for a walk and came back with a little bag of sweets. A piece of (liquorice/peppermint) chalk, because I'm learning; a snake for the process, fangs as well as the whole shedding-skin-business; a sour worm for - I quote - "the icky bits"; a peach for the good stuff; and a heart, because "we love you!"...

And since he's not the man who brings home scheduled or unscheduled flowers - ever, really - this was even more special! Those darn sweets, made me cry!

close

It's been a while, the last live feed. The deadline that never was - at 14 months - has come & gone, too. And I just wanted to say: we're doing fine :-)

The first week was difficult. It felt like - heartache. My baby is growing, and won't regress. And that is, of course, a good thing. But there is no such thing as 'taking a short break from breastfeeding'. When it's done, it's done.

It's funny when you think about it. Few things in life are irreversible. We make conscious decisions to break habits or change lanes, but we can almost always revisit, change our minds. If we really want to. But there are things that can't be undone. The first time I really thought about this, was when I got more grey hairs than I could ignore. It's okay - I'm not traumatised by turning grey. But you can't go back. You can dye your hair, but you will always know it's a pretence. But I'm digressing here.

The physical nurturing is over, and that really felt like the end of an era. Thirteen months might not be much of an era, generally speaking, but when it comes to the first steps into a new life as someone's actual mamma - thirteen months is an era alright!

But we've moved on from there. The end of one era is another era's beginning, after all! We had to find a new ritual that would work for both of us. And we have :-D
Every time Squirt wakes up, I get him out of bed and we spend some time in the comfy chair in his room. For as long as we want to. Sometimes as long as half an hour. We cuddle while he fully returns from his dreams, and then we talk. And he plays with my hair. And he points at everything in his room. He claps his hands a few times, scratches his nails over the changing table and puts his head down on my shoulder again. We have a few laughs, he yawns the last bits of sleep away, and when he gets restless, we get up and get on with our day.
And if I were to be really honest? Maybe this new - struggle-free - ritual is even better than the old one!

vulnerable

I've got to get this off my chest - quite literally. Damn the consequences, I guess. I haven't been sure about showing vulnerability since I started this blog. I'm still not sure. But if I don't do something, I'll scream!

The breastfeeding is over. Baby Boy is done. I'm not. But there are moments in a mother's life - I'm discovering this, like every parent must - when you're not in charge. As simple as that.

I knew this moment was coming. I knew it was coming soon. I had my own deadline of January 6th - @ 14 months, rather randomly picked. I knew that this wasn't going to last forever. I knew it wouldn't last as long as I wanted it to, either. I knew that from the beginning, which was far from smooth, and through all the hiccups and obstacles along the way.

The moment came yesterday. Actually, it was the culmination of several moments. Yesterday was just the 'grab that darned ostrich by the neck and jank its blissfully unaware head out of the sand already'-moment. So I tore the plaster off. Followed by such a bad migraine that I had to call Man to come home from work so I could go to bed.

Baby Boy was 13 months & 2 days when it happened. A grand score after a bad start. But it might take a while for me to see it that way. Today, it feels like the umbilical cord is truly severed at last. And unlike the first time, it hurts like hell!

not okay yet

Baby Boy is 10 months old today. Ten whole months!
And he only drinks a live feed in the morning these days...
I'm okay with that. Which surprises me. One day, a couple of weeks ago, I gave up the struggle of trying to feed live during the day, and it felt like a release. It seems that you really do get to a point where it's okay. Which gives me hope. I hope that I will find myself okay with the idea of the End of Breastfeeding one day. Because that day is coming. I can smell it in the air like I can smell autumn around the corner. And it makes me sad. I'm not okay with that. Yet.
I'm so not okay with it, that I waste way too much precious time on expressing milk during the day, just to keep up production for a good morning feed. And that makes me sad, too.
I'm on a swing here. Part of me thinks I'm mad. That part is getting ready to throw in the towel some day soon. The rest of me isn't. The rest of me is sad. The rest of me wants to keep on breastfeeding forever. It wants Baby Boy to stay small, be cute & drink a live feed.
I know the rest of me isn't very realistic. A tad dramatic. Very sweet, but a bit away with the fairies. But part of me loves the rest of me, and the rest of me wins. For now.
It will last until it's okay to stop.

9 months

This last Thursday, the 6th of August, Baby Boy has been living in the Outside World for exactly - to the day - as long as he parasitised (in the best possible meaning of the word) inside of me! Another milestone in the lives of both of us!
He's still getting mamma-milk (only as a supplement to 'food-food', of course) and I am so proud of that, considering the effort we both put in to get it happening & happening right, that I just wanted to have that mentioned :-D
Baby Boy is beautiful & cute & growing (way too rapidly!) into himself; it's fun & amazing to watch...
& I'm well aware that this is a soppy post to the point of 'bring out the violins', but this is my blog, & I write what I want to ;-)