Mama-Monologue

(A mother’s pure gratitude this Thanksgiving)

Breastmilk
Breastmilk. Isn’t it amazing that for 6 months my boys could live on breastmilk and breastmilk alone. Sweet baby milky breath. (Take in a breath) I can feel him now tucked and nestled securely on my chest as if we just finished nursing and he’s sleeping now, shallow breathing. All tightly bound in bunting. Little hands, little feet. I am their life force.

(Take another deep breath) Let me just lick their sweet baby hair.  So fine.  I feel the need to lick his sweet head, his fine feather hair.  It’s primal. Instinctual.  Ooh his red rose bud lips just puckered in and out. He’s dreaming.  Life is so easy. I could lie here all night. He’s so warm. Like a new puppy. I knew just what to do the minute he was born.  Wasn’t that a miracle?

Birth
Mirror? Absolutely. Push. Push. Down here, like I’m making a… bowl movement? I want to see my baby. He’s almost here. Down.  Get him dooown and out. (Deep breathes in through the nostrils and out through the mouth) He’s crowning. He’s a blonde? How can you tell? All I see is…I don’t really see anything but I feel him now, a real connection, it’s work. He’s not floating anymore he’s letting me go… leaving leaving… push…him…out… I want to meet him…aaaaaah.  This is when I let go and a higher power breathes in his life force.  (Exhale).  He’s crying. Oh my god look at him, he’s here, he’s really here and I did it! We did it. We made him! He came out from me. ME. Woman, now mother. Bring him to me. Hold onto momma don’t let go, hold onto momma I love you so.

Love
Intense. Feelings and love I have never experienced before. It’s real, no doubt, and with no baggage. I am yours, you are mine, always will be.  I still love you, my partner, my best friend, but this mother love is so intense.  It’s pure devotion. We are in this one life together.  This bond.  It’s tight. It’s really true. Mother and son. I could hold him forever, if he let me.

Growth
Remember when he rolled over, then crawled on his belly. Remember when he said Dada, Mama, Book, Apple, Yes, No, Stop it, Don’t go… His life force is endlesslessly prepelling him forward into life. Learning new things… It’s like watching a pot of porridge boiling over and I can’t stop it, it’s growing growing, slipping out of my hands like slippery wiggly jello. 

Brothers
Now two, holding hands in the backseat, wrestling, sharing, working it out, constant constant vigilance. Boys. Still no manual. Reading reading reading, writing writing writing.  We are striving to be our best. In the end they want what we want and we want mindful love and health. Let’s remind each other of that everyday. You boys are delicious. I overflow with joy to watch you together as you build a beaver damn that was once my living room couch, explore the holes in trees and the fairies that live in them, collect acorns in my pockets. Your treasure is my treasure. At the end of the day I am so grateful for you, life is so sweet with you in it.  Each day an adventure and a struggle at being my best self, learning, re-learning as they do. They are exhausted, me too. With sleep I beckon back my sanity.  Shhh… shhh. A day in the wild but safely back now to our den. Curl up next to me. A moon song?… Okay, let me think…Good night sweet baby boys.

I am so grateful for the spirit of your lives that have been given to me, for the rest of my life. I will be a mother.

Another Messy Morning

This morning all the couch pillows are in the middle of the living room floor, I call it Pillow Mountain, Asher calls it a beaver damn and I am the dentist who is going to fix their teeth if anything happens.  Now Asher is singing his nonsense words “Ho-Diddy” and he is joyfully jumping around the room.  The vacuum cleaner is going in the background and Finny is using it back and forth back and forth on the couches. And if you walked in you would think it is hectic. And it is for the tiny moment, hectic, but these moments are tiny and I stick through them with joy and I am waiting and guiding. Like the freedom to paint on their bodies I am waiting for the final creation and looking at where this is going. The vacuum has successfully cleaned the cushions and the crumbs, raisins, and chips in the couch.  Asher has asked for the bongo drum and xylophone mallets but we talk about quiet mornings. He promises that he’ll be quiet. I give the mallets to him and he takes out his synthetic stringed ukelele and uses them as a bow and violin. It’s quiet. Then he sticks the mallet in his shirt so the black head sticks out and he uses it as a microphone as he strums the ukelele.

“Fox on a Chilly Night

Fox on a Chillly Night

Fox on a Chilly Niiiiight

Fox on a Chilly Night.

Fox on a Chilly Niig-ii-iiht.”

He is using the bongos as a stage.

“The parade is started, Mom come.”

Off we go.

Later it’s calm. The waters are calm around the damn. The vacuum is still off and now the beavers are back on the damn using their ukeleles as kitchens and their mallets are their fishing poles.  ”You just need to wait till the fish jump out, Finny. Be on a high place and wait for the fish to jump out. Don’t get hurt Finny. Go on this side. This is the stream.  Wait Finny, stand there, I’ll get them, don’t fall off. Let me get them.”

“Why” says Finny.

“Put your feet like that and your hose like that. Be careful Finny.”

Sip. I take another sip of coffee and do a little more writing. I look over at my baby beavers living, feeding, and protecting each other in the wilderness… we will look up later that beavers are vegetarians.

The Miracle.

Only a few days ago I wrote how Finn sweetly and softly beckoned me with the words “sleep, Momma” so that I would lay down next to him so he could curl his fingers around my hair to soothe himself and fall asleep. It was less than 3 months ago he was nursing and cuddling in my arms to fall asleep. And it’s been about 3 years with his big brother Asher who has requested more books, more food, more drink and more snuggles before falling asleep.  But with patience and lots of love we have allowed the boys to request one more book, one more snuggle, more food, more nursing in order to foster their independence at bed. Sleep is huge in our house and in the house of our friends.  When you think you’ve got it right with sleep, it all changes. But tonight, the miracle happened, for the third time in our household.

Book after book, 6 books read about 2 times each, drink, snuggles, a little playfulness and a whole lot of patience I told the boys that it was time for bed. Asher was nearly asleep and Finn rubbed his eyes a few times. 

“Hold me like a baby,” Asher requested.

“Like this?” I said as I carried his long legs and torso in my arms.  

“Dog,” Finn hurried after us as we walked into their dimly lit bedroom from the living room. Finn was carrying the Dog book by Matthew Van Fleet.

“Okay, Finn, you can read Dog in your crib.”

“Crib..Dog..crib,” Finn seemingly agreed as he crawled up onto his big brothers’ bed.

Asher curled up under his covers and peeked over his blankets as I read through Dog.

“Good night, Asher.” I sweetly sang and kissed his head. Finn followed suit and rubbed his brother’s back.  ”Come on Finny, time for bed. Baby is waiting for you.” 

“Night A-err.”

I put Finn down in his crib, he snuggled up next to baby and I dimmed down the lights.

Our jaws are still open in awe. Wow. Will and I are amazed. They are really growing up, so fast. So fast.

Projects

Last night was the last night of the 6-week fall session of the Mothers’ Writing Workshop. We will continue, but after the holidays and after I plan out our winter getaway with my family. (But that is another topic. Winter in New England.)

So last night, the workshop was fluid just like the last 5 weeks, however we were missing a few moms due to children’s flu recovery and a new change in sleep pattern for a new mom and baby.  I ended the workshop exactly how I started with a basketful of items.  I collected rocks, shells, baby socks, little plastic toys and trinkets from around the playroom hoping to elicit thoughts and feelings.  Everyone chose an item from the basket, “Choose something that speaks to you.” I chose an egg carton with dried glue and Q-tips.  This is what I wrote…

Projects

The boys need projects.  The only projects I know are art projects.  This grey egg carton in front of me with dried glue and Q-tips sticking straight up was made by Asher age 3.  He wanted to use glue so instead of simply having it squeeze from the bottle onto the paper I told him to squeeze the bottle into each of the egg holders and let that be a project within a project.  Art projects last for about 10 minutes, if I am extremely lucky.  On Sunday morning I really created the perfect after breakfast project.  

“The cereal makes a loud crunch in your head as you chew, doesn’t it?” I asked Asher as all three of us ate spoonful after spoonful of Kashi.  Stick and twigs.  

“Mmm,” said Asher.

“Yike it,” agreed Finn. I was ready for play and to get in their head.  

“Do you want to paint after breakfast?” 

“Yeah!”

“Peent!” cried Finn.

We used to paint all the time.  It was right about this time last year I had the boys paint their first time together.  Finn was, let’s see, 21-12= 9 months. (Wow).  A baby. So I tied a sling around him in a little red plastic chair, put a paint brush in his little fist and let the boys paint while I quickly cut out shapes of leaves etc and had them stick them on the wet paint.  The paint acted like glue and the figures stuck to their picture.  Asher dominated, Finn observed.  That’s how it usually goes.  So today, about a year later, I cleared the kitchen, removed rugs, and moved tables. I taped onto the windows large pieces of paper and let the “wild rumpus start.”  

“Mix blue and red and white,” directed Asher.  ”Green for Finny-Finn-Finn.”

Everyone was painting neatly in their pajamas and the brush strokes were vertical on the paper.  Then somehow Asher got naked.  It usually happens like that, I don’t really pay attention to how or why things are going in the direction they are going, I just let go and see what happens.  So the next thing you know, Asher is naked in the kitchen with the morning light streaming in behind the picture which he is not painting, because now he is finding great joy in painting his body.

“I’m a purple monster.  Do you think Finny will be scared?”

“Maybe?” I giggle.

Finn runs into the kitchen smiling.  He’s naked. Where he was I have no idea because I’ve been taking pictures of Asher on my phone for FB and I am careful to put the little purple gerber food baby paint jar in front of his penis for integrity.  Finn steps in front of the camera and joins his brother.  They are happy.  We have entertained each other joyfully and they are silly and giggly.  

“Tubby Time” I say in a sing-song voice. “Bubbles.” I hear squeals as we run into the bathroom.  I keep it jolly before it gets out of hand. They jump eagerly into the frothy tub.  

“Look, Mom, the water is purple!”

“What a wonderful scene to wake up to,” says Will.  He’s smiling. (Which is great coming from someone who at times is a clean-up-as-you-play-keep-it neat-Dad.) 

Damn, I love being a Mom and more importantly I enjoy writing about it.

Little Stories from this week

Finn Beckons 
“Sleep.” Finn whines. No, he isn’t asking me to put him to sleep, and whining that he’s tired and saying “please mom, put me in my crib I am so tired I need to sleep”.  Wouldn’t that be a miracle.  It’s “sleep,” as in, “lie down next to me so I can go to sleep and play with your hair, my comfort blanket.”  And I do.

***

Sleep
“Do you want to go into the kitchen and eat breakfast with me?” I whisper to Asher. He just climbed into to bed with Eli the elephant, Baby, David the Owl, and Peter Rabbit.  I am on the edge of the bed, then Asher, and then a long pillow separates Asher from Finn, who has been sleeping in our bed all night, and then Dad, who in my opinion has the most space.  I went to bed at 9:00 so I have had a very long and restful sleep and I am ready for the day with the boys.  

***
Early Morning Math 
“I are this age.” Asher states as he scoops up three pieces of Barbara’s Puffins onto a spoon.  He eats one then grins, “I was this age,” he eats another square, and he is left with one square. “Me and Finny were this age when we popped out of the hole in your belly,” he smiles widely.   

***

Hold You
“Hold you?” Finn asks, a sweet little boy who stands at my feet, knee cap height, with his arms up. How can I not? I’ll hold him all day and whisper “I love you.”

***
How was your day with me? 

“So, Momma, how was your day with me?” Asher asks as we eat lunch together. I can’t imagine a day without them, nor my life before having children. It’s foggy.

***
Asher tells a story 
One Day by Asher Carswell
One day a bat flew past my house. He flew fast fast fast. He flew right past.  I said “Go away” please don’t stay.  And they we flew past your house with our capes.  And said “hello, we flew past your house.”
 
***
Tell me a story
“Grampa, tell me a story.” Grampa reaches for a book to read. “No, grampa, a story from your brain.”

 ***
When I’m a Dad
“When I’m a Dad I will have 6 kids.” Asher took a long pause. “And no Mom because I already have a mom and there can’t be two.” We were discussing the fact that he and Finny would like a little baby brother or sister.  No pressure.

***
Birth Order
“I came out first because I ate all my food up first, right?” Asher asks.
  
***
Ponytail Holders
“He looks like a girl,” states Dad.
“I know.” I grin. 

***

 

Save the date!

SAVE THE DATE for The Mama-Monologues

November 23rd
6:30-7:30 pm
@ the Yellow Sofa
Northampton, MA

Readings about motherhood written by
mothers from the Pioneer Valley

http://www.theyellowsofa.com/

This is a first of many series to come, I hope.  These first readings will be a celebratory finish for the Mothers’ Writing Workshop.  Members of the workshop will read their writing for family and friends.  All are welcome.  

 

 

 

Baby Dolls, Boys, Bliss

Everything is alright in the world when I hear Finn sweetly whisper to his baby doll “night, night baby, shhh, night, night baby,” pat the baby’s belly and head gently, kiss his forehead, offer a bottle, cover the baby with a blanket, and then tip-toe out of the room looking back as if to make sure there are no tears.  Oh yes, everything is alright in the world. His big brother Asher joins him in the play and brings his baby doll to the chair, places the doll next to his brother’s doll, brings over another play bottle of milk, and a blanket from his bed. “I’m putting this toy next to him too,” adds Asher as he gently places a rainbow slinky next to its head. I quietly tip-toe out of the room myself and start writing this down. I listen to see how the play goes. Finn pops out with a red ball. “Oh,” I say  (I am not so surprised to have him on my tail) “is that for the baby?” “Yuh,” he nods and he does an about face and marches back into the room. Then out comes Dad from the laundry room, “Where are the boys?” “They are in their room playing with baby dolls and I’m just listening,” I respond. We correct a few grammatical errors on a few pages of a post and then Dad marches off to the shower. About 15 minutes have gone by and I can hear quiet conversation between the two boys in their room. So now I am back to listening.

They have pillows, more toys and blankets on the floor. Asher has climbed into Finn’s crib and emptied out comfy contents. Now he’s golfing the red bouncing ball with a piece of rectangular foam board. Finn has picked up a pink ball, identical to the ball that Asher is hitting, and is walking around the room, most likely looking for another piece of foam board. Asher is definitely non-stop chatting, in a fantasy play, while Finn, babbles in and out of conversation, agreeing, growling, nodding his head and marching around.

We spent a majority of the morning outside raking leaves and Asher helped greatly. He quoted several lines from I Stink by Kate Mcmullan and Jim Mcmullan. “Open wide… Straight into my hopper…squeeze them, smash them, compact them…yummm” he paraphrased as we loaded up the bins with leaves and sticks. He encouraged me as well to keep raking, “Wow, Mom, great job!” Finn pitched in too, but mostly played with the empty flower pots and the rainwater and muck that collected in a plastic orange pumpkin shaped halloween bucket. We took a break, watched Dad use his chain saw. For a brief moment, we stopped. OOOh. Then they were off together. They played and climbed inside a very overgrown shrub, a 10 ft tall vibrant red leafed Burning Bush. Asher pretended to cut the branches inside, just like his Dad, and encouraged Finn to climb safely up the branches.

I stopped. Felt the sun.

Rested amongst the grass.
Noticed the bittersweet,
The yellow ochre and coral berry vines popped
Amongst the browning fallen leaves and skeletal trees,
The air, fresh and crisp, cooled our work.
Helicopters fell from the sky.

A Bear! Pooh or Grizzly?

The dichotomy of boys. Pooh and the Grizzly.

“What do you want to be for Halloween?”
“A bear,” asserts Asher.
“A burr,” agrees Finn.

They are both bears for Halloween. Asher and I went back and forth about what bear he wanted to be–grizzly or pooh? So we bought a costume that was ambiguous.  We decided that Finn could be Ku the panda bear, Stillwater’s nephew in the book Zen Ties written and illustrated by Jon Muth.

After shopping in all stores in town, we decided to order both bear costumes online. When Finn’s panda bear costume arrived Asher and I encouraged Finn to try it on but he shouted, “No!” We decided that he wasn’t wearing it because it was too itchy. Plus, it had slipper feet, which is not conducive to a toddler walking.  Asher’s costume arrived next and he put it on immediately. “Oh, so cute!,” I exclaimed with an adoring grin on my face. “No, I am NOT cute. Don’t call me that. I have claws,” he replied and then began running around the house growling. Finn immediately jumped on my lap.  ”He’s a pretty cute grizzly bear,” I whispered to Finn. I couldn’t be scared or pretend to be. Asher was wearing a costume known as “oatmeal bear” which looked more like a lamb-puppy than a bear, and definitely not even CLOSE to looking like a dark brown grizzly bear.  Asher ran back into the room and his ear flopped and flipped over. Finn and I grinned and then chased him around trying to touch his soft belly.  We laughed and wrestled…of course. 

Our favorite bears in literature 
Grizzly Bear
Since he was a wee cub, Asher loved to hide from bears with his friends. “Shhh! There is a bear coming–quick hide!” And we would all hide in the blanket of our bed just like the characters do in the worn board book we adore,  We’re Going on a Bear Hunt written by Michael Rosen and illustrated by Helen Oxenbury. Now, Finn has adopted this game and we all snuggle under the warm comforter in the morning family bed with coffee, milk, soymilk and sometimes juice.

Pooh Bear
At night before bedtime Dadda has been reading a chapter of the childhood classic Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne.  Not scary. No hiding. Just funny characters and words.
“Asher will you answer a few questions to help me write?”
“You don’t know what you like best?”
“No, here is what I want to ask you: Ready?”
“Yes.” he whispers as he sits next to me writing in his leather journal with a fine point pen.
“Tell me about Pooh Bear, what do you like about Pooh Bear?”
“What do I like about Pooh bear..I like the story of it. Of them playing with the Pooh bear.”
“What do they play?”
“Pooh sticks.”
“What else.”
“Throwing rocks on Eeyore. Eeyore sinking.”
“What do you like about Eeyore?”
“He’s soft and gentle. What do you like about piglet?” He turns the interview around.
“He is soft and gentle,” I reply. “How about Grizzly Bears.”
“I don’t like grizzly bears.”
“Why?”
“Because they are NOT nice….The book about the boy that doesnt’ like grizzly bears,” he trails off trying to tell me about a book he read. “The boy was afraid of the grizzly bears.”
“What did he do?”
“He slammed the door. Clump clump. Smashed away at the door.”

If he is so scared of grizzly bears, why does he want to be a fierce bear for halloween? But perhaps this Halloween Asher is dressing up as a bear, confronting his fear, trying it on, maybe seeing what it feels like to be the other and to feel powerful over something that makes him feel powerless.

BOO! Happy Halloween, here’s to another day of facing your fears and receiving a candy reward in return.

Mou-irt

This is 21 month aggle flabble.

Finn: Mou-irt.
Us: More? What do you want more of?
Finn: Mou-irt (strong emphasis on “irt”)
Us: Finn, water?
Finn: Mou-irt. (irritated)
Us: Asher, do you know what he’s asking for?
Asher: No response.
Us: Finn, you want more (mimicking)  ”Mour-irt?”
Finn: Huh, smiling.
Us: I wish we knew what it was, Mour-irt.
Dadda: irt…? What rhymes with irt…
(thinking, thinking, thought bubbles, more thought bubbles)
Dadda: Dirt?
(thinking, thinking, thought bubbles, more thought bubbles)
Dadda: Yogurt?
Finn (now being held by Momma): Uh!
Momma: Glad we figured that out.
Dadda: We?

Weaning. The break up.

I broke up with Finn. My 21 month old is officially weaned but it doesn’t mean we’ve lost our special bond.  He has always been extremely close to me and cuddly. This morning he called from his crib, “Momma, Momma? Momma!” He abhors is crib. So the minute he wakes up he wants out. So I staggered into the boys room with my o-so-cute momma flannel pajamas, brown with pink hearts and picked him up. He immediately swings his little arm around my neck, tucks in, and grabs a lock of hair, as we make our way back to the family bed.  He can’t quite get comfortable, and he would probably love to nurse, but he doesn’t ask, he fusses and starts to get out of bed. It is still too early to be “up” and I am trying to sneak in a few more winks of sleep. But he’s fidgety so we head into the kitchen for a banana.  Still hanging on like a monkey, Finn reaches for the “nana” and eats every bite while nestled in my chest. We climb back into bed, banana and all. I look down once more to see how he’s doing, the banana is nowhere to be seen and he is asleep once more.

“We’re tight.” I tell friends and family.  Later that day, while visiting a local organic apple orchard,  Finn wonders off and hides amongst the fallen apples and leaves.  I can see him peeking at me.  He explores the ground and brings me back an apple and while I am seated he leans his back up to my back.  I thought I would miss our close bond when I weaned, but this little monkey isn’t straying far.