Pontificating, or how I talked myself out of my to-do list

July 17, 2016

The problem with sleeping when the baby sleeps is that leaves you exactly zero time to feel like a human, or do absolutely anything. 

Of course, if you don’t sleep you don’t feel human anyway. 


July 13, 2016

We are asteroids

floating through space:

at times colliding, crashing, breaking

–a violent cacophony;

but most of the time




–alone and lost. 


July 8, 2016

It finally came close enough to home last night that this morning I started the dialogue with my children. And yet I feel guilty that I waited this long, that I waited until it was personal to us. It’s been personal to other people, it’s been just as important, just as upsetting, just as scary, but I kept my family in a secluded little bubble as long as I could. 

This morning I struggled to find the words. I don’t have the vocabulary to accurately reflect what’s going on. 

Our country is broken. Our people are hurting and they are responding to hate with hate. We do not know how to control our anger. We demand respect without giving it. Justice is not being applying equally. We demand retribution, making others hurt in a fruitless attempt to heal our own pain. We are losing. And last night your friends’ dad was called in from watching a ball game with his kids to don his SWAT gear and enter what he described as a war zone. He survived but some of his fellow officers did not. 

Our plans after swimming lessons were to go downtown, near-ish the horrible events, to a museum. The area surrounding the museum has been cleared as of early this morning but I laid it all out to the boys and let them decide whether we would go or not. 

We decided that we will not live in fear (a personal decision I have made years ago and continue to make every time something scary happens,) and that art has healing properties, but that it was a bit too soon. (And I think my boys are tired. Also, they thought we were going to the science museum and not the art museum, which is closer to the events and has a delayed opening today, but more interactive exhibits.)

We have committed ourselves to seek out and to share beauty and love. We are going to send fun mail and do kind things.  Love is the only answer. 


July 7, 2016

Although I had Nutella on graham crackers while making supper tonight I still planned to polish off the ice cream in the freezer.

And I did. 

It’s important to keep the goals you set. I can sleep well feeling accomplished tonight. 

And A Good Time Was Had By None

July 6, 2016

My high school years wee the golden age of word processing. Personal computers were commonplace enough that the majority of us could submit home-typed essays, but it was still novel enough that we got excited about the spell checker, some of us even taking lessons from the grammar checker. I was always dinged for the same infraction by the grammar checker: passive voice. 

I don’t remember it ever being addressed in school, but that could be because of my truncated lessons due to the dual language instruction, or because I wasn’t always attentive, or perhaps it was never taught. It didn’t sound wrong to me because it was the way that grown ups often spoke, distancing themselves from the subject of the sentence, and the situation. 

Learn the lesson I did, and I would say that for the most part I’m successful at avoiding the passive voice in my writing. I’ve even come to expect better out of the speech and writing of the grown ups, myself included. 

Now I cringe when I hear (or read) what had once been common enough that I considered it to be a proper pattern. I find the abstinence of a proper subject to be a bit of a cop out. (As hard as it is to avoid being judgmental I lump those people in with those who use “I” even when they should use “me” because they think it makes them sound smart and really it is the reverse.) Using the passive voice is just as common as ever, so perhaps I’m in the minority of people who selected “grammar check” in addition to spell check. I certainly can’t place all the blame on the word processor, however, because I don’t remember it ever taking a stand in the debate regarding the Oxford comma. (If you were wondering I am in the “pro” camp, punctuation saves lives, people.)

This pedantic tirade should not be a surprise to anyone who remembers that I would correct the spelling on my friends’ notes before responding and passing them back in class. 

The Fulcrum of Life, so far

June 24, 2016

Little man, at nine months old, has now spent more time out of the womb than in. We’ve covered so much ground in this little life that I wonder if he even remembers his life as a fish. I like to hope he likes his new life. There are things he certainly loves, like his brothers. 

At his checkup this week we found he has dropped twenty percentile points in both weight and height. Of course I remember his brothers both leveling out sometime between nine and twelve months, and since he’s such a busy baby and the only solid food of interest is paper, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. And yet I’m now monitoring him like crazy. He hates to be fed food, tolerates playing with it himself, but after gummin it around does he actually swallow? If he’s not eating soon we will be sent to a speech pathologist to rule out oral issues. I would have poopooed the suggestion but have seen the result of undiagnosed oral issues such as these. 

It’s been an anxious week for me. It has underscored the nagging worries I have had all along. I didn’t worry about the older two. Blinded a little by the naïveté and immortality of my own youth I effortlessly tuned out the voices of doom and mothered them instinctively and confidently. I’ve struggled all along to do that this time, but with the experience of age, the extra fatigue, and without my tribe, it has been so hard to keep those voices at bay. I really miss my earth mamas. 

This afternoon as I tried to be rational about things and remember how much or little the others were eating at nine months, I don’t remember food being a big part of our lives. I have always been quite casual with introducing solids. But what I remember vividly with all three (Red, Blue, and even Daytime Brother) was that nine months was very trying for me because of separation anxiety. 

But what if I had it all wrong? Little Man is rather attached but he does play with his brothers and I can certainly throw a diaper away without eliciting a three-alarm scream because there is always someone else nearby and the layout of our home is much more open. So far separation anxiety is not a big deal with him, but the food has been stressing me out. What if it wasn’t the separation anxiety in the others that made this age so difficult for me? What it is was my hormones? My endless fatigue? What if it never was the boys, and it was always me?

It’s so much easier to think I am the problem. That won’t keep me up at night with worry. I’ve been at this stage before, and I survived. I will survive again. 

And if in a couple of weeks he still can’t/won’t eat a cracker, then visiting a specialist to rule out (or fix) issues before they become problems won’t kill me (even if the deductible threatens to do just that.)

Fit Me This

June 22, 2016

Fitbit sent me an email today. 

Hey Heather, you might sleep better if you improve your workouts. 

I’m paraphrasing, obviously, but it  reminds me once again that Fitbit needs a Motherhood setting wherein rough nights are followed by an elimination of fitness goals for the day and naps and take out meals for the daily goals


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 25 other followers