He grew on me. Little by little, day by day, until he became ingrained in me. I can't pinpoint the exact moment or even the month when it happened, but around 12 years ago, I knew. I had a partner. Forever.
I had only just turned 21 when we got engaged. I was still a kid. Bright-eyed and anxious to begin "really" living. I craved adventure, independence and purpose. It's quite paradoxical that I would want to enter into a lifelong commitment - in the Catholic Church nonetheless - where they make it essentially impossible to reverse the deal. But it made perfect sense to me.
We drove out west to Cali in a half-empty UHAUL, with nothing but $1000 in the bank (mostly from wedding gifts) and an amazingly generous uncle with a spare bedroom. There we were: newlyweds, on bunk beds, snuggling on the full-size bed on the bottom while using the top bunk for storage.
Fast-forward 5 years and we're headed back on I-10 East in an overflowing UHAUL with contents ranging from a baby crib to a foosball table. We're far from being settled but that's how we've liked it so far. I'm not sure I ever want to be settled. It makes me anxious. See, I have many commitment phobias: to cities, to jobs, even to a particular cocktail. Sometimes it's a simple scotch and soda and at others a fancy French 75. It depends on the mood, the lighting, the weather. I have often wished I could be that girl with a signature look - like Gwen Stefani with that red lipstick or Katherine Hepburn with those killer pantsuits. I'm much too fickle for any of that.
Yet I never once had an inkling of a doubt to commit to P. Why? Was it a cosmic connection? My soulmate? Destiny? The romantic, Jane Austen-loving fool in me would like to think so. What I must have always known was that a life with P meant a life of freedom. Because when you're loved so honestly by another you cannot help but feel free to love yourself. The good, the bad, the neurotic, the emotional human being that is me - I feel free to be me!
I know we do a lot of stupid things when we are young but marrying P was the smartest thing I ever did.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Give + Take
"Making a decision to have a child - it's momentous.
It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body"
Elizabeth Stone, author.
I read this somewhere and it has stuck with me. It describes motherhood exactly, precisely - does it not? Tiny tears form in my eyes as I write this. I attempt to conceal them for fear of being discovered. Fear of those around me catching on that I am in LOVE. Crazily, intoxicatingly IN LOVE with my LO.
While lazily sipping my latte, as I often do while LO is at school, the quote came to mind. Is it even possible to be so overcome with love? To be so full that it feels as though your heart will just burst out of your chest and begin walking about in the shape of a majestic, little brown-eyed creature. There are times when just the thought of my LO makes me feel giddy, mushy, beaming with pure euphoric joy. And I realize I have the goofiest grin on my face.
Is it this exact feeling that accounts for women since the beginning of time, enduring the many physical discomforts (sore nipples are no joke, people) and down-right hideous pain of labor? In those last contractions before LO entered the world, I thought I would soon be exiting it. I thought I couldn't endure anymore and that I would literally die from labor pains, not from complications but from the actual gut-wrenching contractions. Why would I do this to myself (with P's help, of course)?!!?
But I didn't die and the instant I curled my arms around her tiny, slimy body, I had my answer.
It's so inexplicable that a little thing that takes and takes and needs so much ends up giving you so much in return. I knew that now as a mother it was my turn to put my child first, as my mother always did for me. I was prepared to enter into a very non-symbiotic relationship. I would be the "GIVER" and LO would be the "TAKER." That was my expectation and I was ready.
What I wasn't expecting was to feel so grateful to her for giving me...I don't know...what does she give me exactly? I take care of her every need which in a day can add up to many, many dirty bowls and corresponding diapers. It is a demanding job, this parenting business. Which is why it takes me exactly 20 seconds to fall asleep once my head hits the pillow. She certainly does not make my life easier (just putting on my makeup in the morning required me to purchase her own "makeup kit" to end the struggle), she does not compliment my many virtues (ha!), she does not even laugh at my silly jokes. Sounds like a terrible boyfriend! So I guess in the traditional sense of relationships, she does not give me much. It might even be termed "unhealthly" or "one-way" or whatever other terms people use to identify a severely disproportional relationship.
Yet I have never felt so fulfilled. So full of purpose and enthusiasm. So light. So loving. So confident in my place in this crazy world.
All that she's given me. So who's the "TAKER" now?
Is it this exact feeling that accounts for women since the beginning of time, enduring the many physical discomforts (sore nipples are no joke, people) and down-right hideous pain of labor? In those last contractions before LO entered the world, I thought I would soon be exiting it. I thought I couldn't endure anymore and that I would literally die from labor pains, not from complications but from the actual gut-wrenching contractions. Why would I do this to myself (with P's help, of course)?!!?
But I didn't die and the instant I curled my arms around her tiny, slimy body, I had my answer.
It's so inexplicable that a little thing that takes and takes and needs so much ends up giving you so much in return. I knew that now as a mother it was my turn to put my child first, as my mother always did for me. I was prepared to enter into a very non-symbiotic relationship. I would be the "GIVER" and LO would be the "TAKER." That was my expectation and I was ready.
What I wasn't expecting was to feel so grateful to her for giving me...I don't know...what does she give me exactly? I take care of her every need which in a day can add up to many, many dirty bowls and corresponding diapers. It is a demanding job, this parenting business. Which is why it takes me exactly 20 seconds to fall asleep once my head hits the pillow. She certainly does not make my life easier (just putting on my makeup in the morning required me to purchase her own "makeup kit" to end the struggle), she does not compliment my many virtues (ha!), she does not even laugh at my silly jokes. Sounds like a terrible boyfriend! So I guess in the traditional sense of relationships, she does not give me much. It might even be termed "unhealthly" or "one-way" or whatever other terms people use to identify a severely disproportional relationship.
Yet I have never felt so fulfilled. So full of purpose and enthusiasm. So light. So loving. So confident in my place in this crazy world.
All that she's given me. So who's the "TAKER" now?
Monday, November 7, 2011
Terribly Terrific Twos
It seems that from the moment you announce your pregnancy you are bombarded with cautionary tales about the most dreaded stage of childhood: The Terrible Twos. Now isn't the point of a cautionary tale to forewarn you so can avoid the catastrophe? Here's the catch - there is NO escaping the Terrible Twos. If your child reaches the landmark age of two, you will basically be living with a bipolar, irrational, emotionally unstable (sounds like Lindsay Lohan) little tyrant until..._____?? Can other parents fill in the blank? Please say it ends soon. Feel free to lie.
LO becomes possessed with The Terrible Twos sporadically. She can have one wonderful episode-free day followed by the exact opposite. I have long ago accepted that LO will misbehave...and often. That she will test every limit and push every boundary. It's in her precocious nature. But these Terrible Twos look very different from her usual mischief.
She's weepy. She's overly sensitive. She grins and immediately frowns. It's like living with Sybil...which LO am I going to get?? My fun-loving, goofy girl or LO the Lunatic? I know it sounds harsh but it really IS harsh. It's hard to witness. Especially if you're new to the game as I am.
I hug her tight and reassure her that she will someday cope better with all these emotions. Sometimes she accepts the hug and other times she stomps away in a fury. It's difficult to accept that I can't "fix" it. When LO was a restless newborn, P and I bounced her on a huge exercise ball for hours on end to soothe her. When she was crawling and her knees would get scraped up, I discovered baby leg warmers. When she began interacting with other kids and a toy was yanked from her, I would distract her with another toy. I cannot distract her from this. It's an insult to her intelligence. It is very real and she's needs to go through it. I'm just on the sidelines with open arms. Alas, I try to remind myself that I've never heard the term "Terrible Threes."
At her two-year check up, her pediatrician asked about her general health and development. Thankfully, all is great on that front. When I mentioned her new emotional state and the accompanying "symptoms," he chuckled and shrugged. "That's all perfectly normal," he said. He went on to explain that the toddler and adolescent stages are the most emotionally tumultuous times in one's life. Then I remembered my high school days and suddenly sympathized with LO. That is a rough time. Poor thing.
I'll be here now and when she's an awkward pre-teen with braces (she'll definitely be awkward and need braces if she's at all like me). To hug her or to get the door slammed in my face. Either way, I'll be right there.
LO becomes possessed with The Terrible Twos sporadically. She can have one wonderful episode-free day followed by the exact opposite. I have long ago accepted that LO will misbehave...and often. That she will test every limit and push every boundary. It's in her precocious nature. But these Terrible Twos look very different from her usual mischief.
She's weepy. She's overly sensitive. She grins and immediately frowns. It's like living with Sybil...which LO am I going to get?? My fun-loving, goofy girl or LO the Lunatic? I know it sounds harsh but it really IS harsh. It's hard to witness. Especially if you're new to the game as I am.
I hug her tight and reassure her that she will someday cope better with all these emotions. Sometimes she accepts the hug and other times she stomps away in a fury. It's difficult to accept that I can't "fix" it. When LO was a restless newborn, P and I bounced her on a huge exercise ball for hours on end to soothe her. When she was crawling and her knees would get scraped up, I discovered baby leg warmers. When she began interacting with other kids and a toy was yanked from her, I would distract her with another toy. I cannot distract her from this. It's an insult to her intelligence. It is very real and she's needs to go through it. I'm just on the sidelines with open arms. Alas, I try to remind myself that I've never heard the term "Terrible Threes."
At her two-year check up, her pediatrician asked about her general health and development. Thankfully, all is great on that front. When I mentioned her new emotional state and the accompanying "symptoms," he chuckled and shrugged. "That's all perfectly normal," he said. He went on to explain that the toddler and adolescent stages are the most emotionally tumultuous times in one's life. Then I remembered my high school days and suddenly sympathized with LO. That is a rough time. Poor thing.
I'll be here now and when she's an awkward pre-teen with braces (she'll definitely be awkward and need braces if she's at all like me). To hug her or to get the door slammed in my face. Either way, I'll be right there.
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| Still rocking the leg warmers. |
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