little sister

the air is a comfortable 77 degrees

but my skin is the surface of the sun,

and i feel a single drop of sweat

trickle down the side of my abdomen.

in the shade the temperature dropped ten degrees

but we drink in the heat, the white backs of my knees

scorched and pink,

hers dark and velvet.

your tan is so dark, it has an accent, i tell her.

we laugh together.

it seems we are always either laughing or almost crying,

our sisterhood only knows one measure.
we don't look much alike
but we have the same eyes
and everyone knows this.
you have the same eyes.
proudly, we know.

i sip lukewarm tea with milk and honey

and delve into this book about traveling to europe

and eating fresh, raw farmer's market vegetables

that probably doesn't taste that great

but sounds poetic and pleasing

like thick, snappy stems of purple-green asparagus.
she reads, too. we are comfortable in each others presence.

sometimes more day dreaming is done than reading

as eyes travel the page but do not consume the words

and the same paragraphs is read over and over

until the books are apathetically discarded to the side,

and legs sprawled as we swing ourselves onto our stomachs

and talk about theism and atheism and purpose and tragedy.

twenty years we've held hands once a year,

talked about the day when we'd live near each other

and fought over who would sit next to our father during a car ride.

now neither one of us talk to him anymore -- it would make a good story.

but here we are, adults and at the beginning of new chapters;

when ten years ago the words responsibility and mother

and work and early and tired 

were not an integral part of our vocabulary

and now, they are the things around which our lives are woven.

i still remember her with arms stiff as she runs clumsily on chubby legs,

or as she absent-mindedly scratches the scar on her chest

from the heart surgery she had when she was two,

or as she tugs and hugs one of her many stuffed animals,

whispering for me to go swimming with her

before the sun has even peaked its pink head

over the line of short texas trees.

childhood went by too quickly,

and i wish i had had more time to experience my baby of a sister.

but i am content to have her now.

almost a woman, but still my little sister.

always my little sister.

changed

i'm not writing about this like i'm the only person this happens to. i'm sure it happens to all moms, which is why moms lose themselves, which is why i started this blog in the first place, so i could rediscover who i am beneath the title "mother."

i would have never thought to describe my relationship with my baby as this, but i think all mothers become "obsessed" with their children. i don't mean like everything in my world revolves around him, or he is the main part of my day, or everything i do is based on his part in my life, or he's changed me or made me a different person, or that i find it hard to do things for myself because he comes first, before everything including myself, sometimes including my husband, including god. oh... that's exactly what i mean.

how can a mother find herself again when she is faced with such passion? how can her life ever mean anything else when her child becomes her very world? what i mean is, practically every decision i make is weighed first between how it will affect my child. most of the time it's really not a big deal. i love everything about being a mother and making a few sacrifices doesn't mean much to me. but then i don't think about how it has affected me. in small ways. like... i don't wear a million bracelets anymore because it's kind of inconvenient when you're trying to deal with a kid. and i haven't worn a dress in over a year because i can't breastfeed in one. and i don't draw anymore, because i'm afraid my toddler will grab my paper, and it's hard to keep an eye on him when i'm concentrating on a drawing. and i'm not going back to school yet because i'm pregnant and i have a hard time pumping milk and therefore can't store milk for a baby to drink while i'm at a class.

they change your life in a sneaky, unnoticeable way.

i said i wouldn't talk about my baby on this blog but half the reason i never write here is because that's almost impossible. it feels silly to not talk about the most important thing in my life. maybe i will talk about him... a little. is becoming a different person through motherhood, and staying that person, all that bad, anyway?

spider

i will never forget you

i will always pray for you

i will constantly think about you

i will always wonder what would have happened

i don't try

it occurred to me tonight, as i was dramatically sobbing into the palms of my hands, that i'm not trying enough. i tell myself i am trying really hard, but i'm not. i'm not trying to be optimistic. i'm not trying to trust god. i'm not trying to pray every day. i'm not trying to have hope.

the truth is, i have had a lot of ups and downs the past few months, and especially during the last week. i'm not a depressed person, i swear. i just get really, really sad for a few minutes, and then 90% of the time i'm awesome. it's just that i dwell on things (and i don't try to not dwell on things, either, which doesn't help) and i get stressed out really, really easily and have annoying anxiety that i refuse to take drugs for, because you should always say no to drugs.

i let the things that life throws at me touch me personally and deeply. and instead of smiling through it and shrugging and knowing i'm not going to die from starvation and that probably means things are going to be okay, i complain about how much life sucks (when it only sucks a little bit) and i don't feel like doing anything else but complaining and crying, because i want everyone else to know how miserable i am so they can feel sorry for me.

the truth is this. we're broke. we don't have health insurance. john has been looking for a job for four months with no luck. we're behind in so many bills and the only reason our electricity hasn't been turned off is because we live in an apartment complex. yes, we're moving to a house, which is completely awesome, but we don't even know if we'll be able to pay our last month's rent. i've had a stupid UTI for over a week now and have not been to see a doctor because we can't afford it and now my back hurts and i'm worried i might be getting a kidney infection. our car keeps breaking down and each time we have to fix it it costs a couple hundred dollars, even when john does the work himself. for the past few months, we usually ate only one meal a day, and then whatever random food was in the fridge or pantry. now we're on food stamps, which is helpful, but i hate being on food stamps. i also hate that people give us money. i hate being a charity case. and what i hate more than anything -- that my husband can't find a steady job and that we don't have a reliable income and that that makes us fight.

anyway. that's what is bringing the most stress to my life, right now. i needed to get it out. it's extremely personal (i don't think many people even know this blog exists) and i hate complaining via social media (way more effective in person. ha, i kid.) i feel like i'm going to burst. i'm tired of worrying and i'm tired of crying and i know i complain too much, and need to seriously tone that down a bit. i am also way, way tired of living like this. i want things to get better, and people say they will, but i have absolutely no proof or promise of that whatsoever. it's been like this for months now and things aren't changing. but i'm done now. i promise. i won't breathe a single complaint about any of this anymore on this blog, because it won't do any good to complain about it. and besides, today is thanksgiving, and lord knows i have things to be thankful for.

i think.

kidding.

giving thanks

today has been emotional. i have ups and downs. ups, when i don't think about our money problems, and downs, when something happens and we don't know if we'll be able to pay rent. all these little things add up to the one giant thing that is the reason for all the stress and tears: money.

i'm trying to figure it out. as a christian, it's complicated. as someone who's trying to trust and have faith in god and his goodness, it's difficult.

he clothes the lilies and feeds the birds. and no, we're not starving and although we've been behind on some bills for the last three months, the only reason our electricity isn't turned off is because we live in an apartment. provision?

just thinking about it

my mom had a friend who was a single mom on food stamps and unemployment and went to school full-time on grants to become a nurse, and she worked so hard and everything turned out great and she and her daughter had a full life thanks to her dedication to making a full life. now that is a story [even in so few words].

i want to go back to school. but i don't even know where to start. what school should i attend? how can i get a grant? how do i transfer my credits? where do i retrieve all the information i need? i am so confused, and five minutes on three different websites has left me dicouraged and i want to go to sleep anyway, because it's nearly midnight. 

i'm so afraid though. i didn't realize how scared i was until i started seriously looking into it. i am so nervous, i don't even want to make the first step. i'm always afraid i'm going to mess up. i'm always afraid i'm going to look like an idiot. i'm always afraid i'm going to be taken advantage of and seen as naive and gullible and stupid. i want people to take me seriously and i want people to respect me. i want to go back to school, i want a master's degree, and i want a better story for myself, for my family. 

thinking about going back to school is exciting. it's like the first step toward something completely different. something that could be really amazing and life-changing, but huge and difficult and stressful, too. maybe i'm making it into too big of a deal, or maybe i'm underestimating myself. and i'm not just living on my own time anymore. river needs me, and i want to be there for him, entirely. it's just so scary to think that i will be planning my life around the next four years; scary to think that i really can't wait, that i have to do it now. kind of like i'm on this crazy-high diving board, and i can't go back, and i can't just stand there like an idiot either, because, well, that's just dumb, so i have to make this decision, and i just have to go for it.

it makes me nearly hyperventilate, just thinking about it.

the only thing that matters

here are a few things that have happened the past couple weeks. they all relate, i promise:


1. i have been feeling really sorry for myself lately. i have been extremely envious of the people around me. while talking with friends, i find myself thinking, "well, i wish i could randomly buy a nicely-scented candle just because i want to," or "i wish i could pick myself up a latte from starbucks," or "i wish i could buy organic fruits and veggies for my kid," and so on and so forth. money has been ridiculously tight the past couple months, especially this month, and john has had a hard time finding a job. we would not have made it through without the grace of god. but i have had such a bad attitude about it. people have asked if we cut extra spending, and i'm thinking, "what extra spending?" we got rid of our netflix account and cut our cell phone bill in half and have considered getting rid of the internet [if it weren't for the fact that the money we do make is business that is done through the internet]. if you mean extra spending like, not buying apples this week because they're a dollar a pound, then yeah, we've cut "extra spending." [i would be happy if i didn't eat any more rice, beans, oatmeal, and potatoes for the next year.]


2. i just finished reading 'tis by frank mccourt. if mr. mccourt wrote 100 more books, i would read them. i find myself lost in his stories, his amazing stories of growing up in a slum in ireland and starting a new life in america and working his ass off for everything he has. his is a completely unglamorous cinderella story. he came from a life of poverty where his father drank away his money and his mother had to beg on the streets and three of his siblings died from illness and they had one bed for the entire family and it was covered in ticks and everyone on his street shared an outdoor lavatory which was the street, and he went and made himself a life that is full and warm and normal. and by normal, i mean [probably up until he wrote his book] he wasn't rich or terribly successful, but he was though, compared to the life he had as a child.


3. i complained. a lot.


4. i came across this blog and bawled my eyes out and was convinced in a matter of minutes that i need to go to ukraine and take a baby out of these horrible, tragic living conditions. wow. how heartbreaking. there are no words. please at least skim through it [but you'll probably want to read the whole thing.]


5. my reputation as a photographer was ruined. okay, maybe not ruined. but dang, a botched wedding shoot from nearly a year ago has come back to bite me in the butt, and as i am trying to sort things out, my blog has received negative attention from thousands of people. and wow, it hurts. it stings. i have cried a few times a lot. i feel like All of Internet hates me and i owe an apology to Everyone. it is not fun to be seen in such a negative light, and i have taken it very personally, whether or not that is how it should be taken. and i have dwelt on it all week. i would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it. i have been in a terrible mood and have not been paying as much attention to river as i should, so then i felt like a bad mommy and i have been yelling at john and then i felt like a bad wife, and then i assumed if i am a bad photographer and a bad mommy and a bad wife i must just be a bad person and i told john i wished i could delete myself and start a new me and continue on with my life as new whitney while everyone is upset with old whitney. it was all very dramatic. i'm over it now. and i'm reading a lot more books to river and tickling him a lot to make up for being a bad mommy.


6. i complained some more. i complain about a lot of things. it's a serious fault of mine. ask my parents/husband/friends.


so, how these all connect is this. because of our serious lack of money, i have found myself so grateful for teeny tiny things i would normally take for granted. it's not something i've necessarily been trying to do, it's just happened. because now, i realize how much we had before and how i didn't even think about how nice it was to pick up starbucks, or buy candles, or feed river organic green beans. i didn't realize, in the midst of all my complaining about "not having enough money" when we were making 2.5 times as much as we are making now, how blessed we are. reading tis opened my eyes to how selfish i can be. i was talking to my mom a couple weeks ago and i asked her if she thought it was materialistic, and she said "no, i think you've done a good job transferring to a very comfortable life to one where you have a bit less than you're used to." but the thing is, i don't have that much less. 


i mean yeah, i can't pick up a latte, but neither can yulia, you know? and doesn't that sentence just sound... absolutely ridiculous? what makes my life so different that i think i deserve some extra cash to buy a latte now and then, when yulia is living a life in the confines of the four walls of a crib, day after day, not a moment outdoors, sitting in her own urine, without love, cuddles, kisses, human contact, someone to tell her she is a precious child and worth so much more than what she is getting in life? why is it that i'm sitting here fat and happy with a roof over my head and my beautiful son in my arms and a good book by my side and the cool air coming in from the window and a bowl of oatmeal [or rice, or beans, or potatoes] on my desk and my fingers typing away on this computer, and think that.... i don't have enough?


tonight john and i went to a church called river city christian fellowship, where the worship is intensely spirit-led and anointed. one of the most important lessons i've learned about worship is that god works in amazing ways when we listen and let him move in the way he wants to, and totally surrender to the spirit, whether this is by kneeling prostrate, dancing, raising hands, or being completely still and quiet. tonight when were surrounded by the worshiping of all these people, i was convicted to allow god to move through me. i haven't worshiped him in so long. i've prayed here and there. i've asked for a lot of things. i've told him he's pretty cool a couple times. but my communion with him has been way, way off. i needed time with him. i needed to feel him -- nothing compares to feeling him. nothing. not even the birth of my son brought the emotion that being in total surrender to the spirit does. it's unexplainable, miraculous, life-changing. he hits you like storm. like a "rushing wind"...


he told me tonight, the only thing that matters is him. he is the only thing that matters. he is the only thing worth my attention, my energy, my focus. he is the only one worth my praise. it doesn't matter what people think of me, i am his. it doesn't matter what else is going on, i should trust him. it doesn't matter that i can't see what's going to happen, he can. it doesn't matter what thoughts are bringing me angst and sleepless nights, he will bring me peace. it doesn't matter what makes me hurt or angry or frustrated, he will bring me joy. i should trust him because he hasn't given me any reason not to trust him. he brought to my attention tonight that even though he gave me the most beautiful gift of salvation, all i can give him is my heart. all i can give him in worship is my voice, my dancing, my open hands, my tears, my devotion, my trust, my spirit. all i can do is guide river the best i can and love and pray for people and be a peacemaker and right my wrongs, and that's okay. he doesn't want anything more. i will try my hardest to be who he wants me to be, and that's just what he wants. he's not asking me to be flawless, he's asking me to care. he's asking me to be in communion with him. he's asking me to be love. he is the only thing that matters, and when he is the only thing that matters to me, everything else will fall into place.


praise YHWH, who gives me breath.

i pondered

i had a miscarriage last month. i don't want anyone to say "i'm so sorry," because i'm not. it is a very matter-of-fact happening in my life. i wasn't struck with sorrow, because i didn't even know i was pregnant until it was happening, and i don't want another baby right now. if i had taken a pregnancy test, i probably would have been devastated, but i simply -- wasn't. 

i waited for emotions to come, but they never did. i was going to write about how i felt, about the experience, but this is all it was: i don't at all compare my experience with a miscarriage to someone who's heart already knows and loves their baby, even if it's only been for a day or two. when it was happening, i pondered the soul that entered my body and then was gone, and it was bittersweet. i didn't even cry.

lipstick

my hair is wet, and therefore, crazy. it's short [but much longer than when it was first cut], so it sticks up in every direction when i take a shower. it's grown out, i like to think of it as a patch of overgrown weeds at this point, and my part is sort of in the middle [not the side, it will not part on the side. nope. refuses. quite ornery.] and i have this bizarre cowlick on the left side of my head in the back, that seemed to appeared out of nowhere a couple years ago. i know it's just hair, but you know -- it's not just hair. i normally don't do anything with it, which is part of the reason i wanted dreads and part of the reason i cut it short. i am just much too lazy to do anything about it. but getting my hair cut made me feel good. i don't generally feel good or sexy or beautiful or stylish, it's just too much of a pain. 

shortly after i got my hair cut, i bought a cute little skirt, the kind that sits below your ribcage and poofs out mid-thigh, and i wore it one afternoon when i ran a couple errands, nothing special, but it really made me feel pretty. it was nice.

sometimes i wonder if i should start dressing nicer and grow my hair out long again and actually get it trimmed every two months like your supposed to and wear makeup and high-heels like i did when i was sixteen. man, i look at pictures of myself when i was sixteen, and i remember what a horrible self-image i had, and i think ... you didn't know 

i'm not going to sit here and complain that i have a horrible body, because i don't. after i had river i went shopping for clothes and was surprised to discover i had a size eleven ass. i'd never been bigger than a size five. but it really put into perspective size and clothing and women's bodies, and how in our culture, a size one and two and three and four and five are "acceptable," and really, i think that's sad. because only like, 10% of women are a size 3.

i don't know. you know?

i once watched a film about a woman who lived with her son in the woods in a tiny house with one room. they rode bikes and played in the creek and ate from their own garden and made their own clothes and lived simply and loved life.


i gotta do something, man. if i'm envying people who live in the woods with no plumbing, something's up. i have to go bake, or sew something together, or vacuum. chopping all my hair off should have been enough, but no. i feel trapped. you know what i mean?


i feel like i'm walking on egg shells through life. not that i wish to be frivolous or careless or ungrateful. but i feel like each decision i make is based on this giant thing called "adult life." and i really don't want to hear, well "welcome to married life!" or, "what did you expect?" or any shit like that. i'm serious. i'm not stupid. and i also know life doesn't have to be like walking on eggshells. it just doesn't. life is what you make it.


and that's what gets me. what am i making? lately, i feel like i've been having this epiphany. i have this one life. [isn't that a line from a movie? so dramatic.] one life, and one chance to live it how i want to live it. and for starters, i am sick of egg shells.


tonight, i bought a $5 pack of rags with which to wash dishes. and i stood there with them in my hand for like, ten minutes, wondering if i really wanted to buy them. because it's only five bucks, but then again ... it's five bucks. i went out for sushi with my friend judith the other night, and felt like i'd just bought a diamond necklace. no seriously, i felt so guilty. it's not like we're poor. i joke around about us being poor, but we're not; we're so rich. we are in, what, the top 36% of the world's richest? [i checked.]


but i feel like every decision i make is based on what another person wants, too. i mean, yes, hello, that's what marriage is. duh. but i never got to make decisions solely for myself. i missed out on that part. i don't want to be separated from that. i just want to feel... freer. and not free in the sense that i am in bondage and need to be released, or anything like that. but the kind of free where you dance and ride bikes and go on random trips and aren't afraid to jump when the opportunity arises.


i know this probably has to do with me and jesus. i feel close to him, but we don't talk much. but man, i'll be riding in my car, and then freakin' kim walker will play on my iPod, and it'll be just me and sweet jesus, rocking out, tears, snot, the works. i am so thankful to him, so in love with god. but i know i don't love him enough. i know i could love him so much more. i get this achy feeling in my chest when i sing the chris tomlin song, "you're more than enough for me," because i believe desperately that it is true. but maybe part of the ache is that i don't live it enough. maybe i need to remind myself that he is more than enough.


i don't think it's wrong to want certain things. as long as one doesn't make it an obsession, a jealousy. i just have to find a happy medium. and i have to first be satisfied in him.


it's not like i'm materialistic. sometimes i feel like getting rid of half our dishes. we have so much shit. we haven't bought much of anything since we got married, so i don't even know why i feel guilty about it. most of it was given to us, and most of the furniture john was given when he moved to minneapolis, before we even knew each other. sometimes, i get this idea that i'd like to move into an economy apartment, if only i could just get rid of all the junk. i don't really care how much or how little space we have, as long as it's pretty and organized. and the thing is, we don't even have that much. but i mean, we totally do. but we don't.... you know?!


so, i'm going to go to bed, and tomorrow when i wake up, everything will be the same. and that's the issue.

dreadful, just dreadful

i'm dreading my hair. i've wanted dreads for about three years. throughout those three long years, my thought process has been such:


wouldn't it be nice if i had dready hair? yes, it sure would be nice.


when i get old, i'll dread my hair. that way i have time to do everything else with it, like cut it short or grow it long or dye it pink or bleach it white.


hell, i'm gonna do it! i'm gonna get those dreads!


no way. i just can't. i'll miss my hair. i love my hair when it's long.


I HATE MY FREAKING HAIR! IT'S SO FREAKING ANNOYING. I JUST NEED THOSE FREAKING DREADS ALREADY. FRAK.


no i can't do it.




finally, after years of arguing with myself in my head [i do it a lot] i am ready. to be dready. ha! i had to ask myself, if i were stuck on an island by myself with no one judging me, no one expecting anything from me, no one to tell me ew why would you want dreads?! or oo dreads are soooo keewl you'll totally be a hippie do it! or anything in between, would i dread my hair? well probably, because dreads would be way easier to take care of if i were stuck on an island. but that's beside the point. yes i would! if i were to do the one thing that would make me completely happy and not worry about what anyone else thought, then yes, i would get dreads. i'm making it sound a lot more dramatic than it is, but bear with me.

also, i have developed this mentality that hair is just hair and it grows back... probably from one too many shitty hairstyling jobs. it's a good mentality to have. despite this, i actually really love my hair. i've been growing out my hair for as long as i've been contemplating dreading it, when i got it cut nearly to my chin about three years ago. it is now six inches from my elbow, which is not quite as long as i wanted it before i got dreads. [i wanted it long enough to kneel on, which is as long as it was before i got it cut three years ago. like, when i go to get something out from under my bed and then try to stand up and can't because i'm kneeling on my own hair. totally happened.] and i love it when it cooperates. but it rarely does. and it's thinned out a lot since i had the baby. and it really does get in the way. and river pulls it all the time. so it's time. i plan on having dreads for at least three years, hopefully five. possibly ten. who knows. however, i have also kept in mind that i may hate them [i don't plan on it, but how many decision do we make that we plan on hating right off the bat], and that i may want to chop them off in three months. am i willing to loose a good chunk of my hair if i cut them off? yes. will i cry either way? probably.

i better love them. it better be the best decision i've ever made in my entire life. just sayin'.

goodbye long, flowing, beautiful [cough], iconic old-whitney hair.
hello dreadies.

pessimist

i am one of the most pessimistic people i know. i hate it. i'm the person who writes sullen facebook updates in my head but never posts them because people will think i'm a depressed bitch. i'm not depressed, and i hope i'm not a bitch. nevertheless, many sullen facebook updates still get past my reasoning in my head.

this morning i woke up with a nasty tooth ache. not just a tooth ache, but swollen gums, and a jaw i can't open wide enough in which to stuff a burger (not that i want to stuff a burger in my mouth, but i couldn't think of anything else to describe the lack of being able to open my mouth). i also woke up remembering my son wanted to nurse nearly every hour during the night. so already i was in a sullen, bitchy mood. i am clearly not a morning person. when i went to his room to nurse him, again, i found him soaked with pee and his hair standing straight up on his head, plastered in spit up. awesome.

so this is a great start to my week, and i just can't get my thoughts over this tooth ache. currently, the pain is so HELLO I'M HERE AND I AM GOING TO HURT YOU that i just can't imagine it ever going away. have you ever had pain like that? i mean seriously, i look ahead of my life twenty years from now and i still see this god awful tooth ache, and possibly years of painful and expensive dentistry. i might die, too.

my life, reminiscent

i take showers when i'm stressed. during the winter, unless i've gotten particularly dirty, i normally take showers every two to three days - scrunch your nose, call me a hippie, that's what i do - so if you catch me taking a shower two or three days in a row, you can guarantee i'm stressing out. normally i sit on the toilet (TMI? then get the hell out of here, this blog is for real people) writing, while the hot shower runs, but since i'm trying to conserve water and save the earth and all, today i'm sitting in the tub while the water runs over my back and makes my paper soggy. that's right, i'm writing in the shower. welcome to my world.


lately, my life feels reminiscent of the tear-jerker greatestmovieintheentireworld, beaches, only without the cheating husband, heart fai - damnit, my pen stopped working. so now i know. that's what happens when one writes in the shower.


as i was saying, only without the cheating husband, heart failure, and musical success. gah, i've seen that movie, what, over 100 times? i can relate on so many un-relatable levels, if you know what i mean (what i mean is, pieces of beaches reminds me of my life, but my life is much less dramatic and poetic and i don't think someone would cry if they were to watch my life). i'm losing my best friend in the entire world. and i'm not exaggerating. i just sent her hate-mail. well, not exactly. but it wasn't nice. and it ended with, "i'm done trying to be a friend to someone who ignores me 99% of the time until you need me"    and    "i couldn't imagine ever living without the friendship we had. but that's what i've been doing the past couple years." i mean, that's great stuff. epic. i feel like i'm in a movie. 


beaches is about the best-friendship of two women. there is a scene where CC and hillary see each other after years of disconnect. they play as if everything is fine, but it's not. and then they end up yelling at each other, fighting, snotting, crying. they ask each other why their friendship faded. they ask what happened. and then, in the end, they are best friends again. 


can this please happen in my movie?


i'm going to go rent beaches on netflix, and then tomorrow i'm going to go buy a discounted box of valentines chocolate-flavored crap at the dollar store, and cry over my ex-boyfriend. i mean, best friend. my life will never be the same.


            "be sure the keep in touch, CC, okay?"
                "well sure, we're friends aren't we?"


aw shit. time to start the waterworks.

prosaic

it's 1:10 am, and late. it's quiet, it smells like ham, we cooked one this afternoon. john's been asleep since 11, river since 11:45. i was just about to go to sleep, when i was struck by something, i don't know what. it made me want to write. so here i am, with nothing coming to mind. i hate when i feel creative up until right at the moment i decide to let it out.


my extremities are so cold. river is going to remember that growing up, his mother always had cold hands. the lights are all out, the doors are locked, i am craving something sweet, my hair is tangled as always, i have three huge mother fucking zits on my face, my dog sheds every where, the vacuum is broken, and i need a job. well, that's my life right now, at this moment. how very prosaic.


i think i came back because i realized that as simple as all that is, i am so happy with my life right now, crazy and confusing and frustrating and beautiful and average and plain and boring and and...


whatever. goodnight. :)

one-handed cartwheels

this morning i walked into the bathroom with my bra on and stopped to check out my stomach in the mirror. i don't know about you, but my stomach always looks best in the morning. i suck it in and picture myself in a bikini on a beach, but that's never going to happen, because i have the worst body image known to woman. since i had river, i've been checking my stomach out a lot. it changed a lot, and this morning, it looked normal - normal being, before i grew a baby.

back in bed, i got to thinking about one-handed cartwheels. i don't even know how this came across my mind, but i was lying there, thinking about how when i was in karate when i was 12, the karate instructor's daughter always did one-handed cartwheels. one time i asked her she learned how to do it. she said it wasn't that hard, that the first time you do it, you just have to make yourself do it - don't think about it. so i didn't think about it, and now i can do one-handed cartwheels. and then i did them a lot, to impress people. plus it was fun. she said, eventually, one day you'll be doing one-handed cartwheels, and then all of a sudden you'll just do a no-handed cartwheel without even thinking about it, which is a flip in the air i guess, and way more impressive than a one-handed cartwheel. her goal, she said, was to get to the point where she could do a flip in the air. i still can't do a no-handed cartwheel, but secretly, i made it my goal.

then i started thinking, whoa. can i even do a one-handed cartwheel anymore? i mean, i haven't even done one since river was born. the thought of even trying it seemed silly. then i wondered if that's part of what it takes to lose yourself - you forget yourself before the baby. who you are now, is who you're going to be, forever. after birth, a woman's body is bruised, torn, weak, and fragile. and i guess i've sort of kept it in my mind that that's my new body [despite the fact that i actually gave birth, and that has got to be the greatest feat known to woman or man]. so that's what made the idea of me doing a one-handed cartwheel, or wearing a bikini on a beach, much less the two together, so ridiculous. not only has my body gone through a lot the past year, but i am a mom now, and moms don't have time to do one-handed cartwheels or wear bikinis.

pregnancy has this way of making you feel like the un-sexiest person on the face of the planet, for me anyway. my cousin said pregnancy made her feel womanly and curvy and feminine, but it just made me feel achy and fat and sweaty. though despite how i felt physically, it really changed my perspective of my skin. or the skin i had. every time i hear a skinny bitch complain about her fat thighs i just want to slap her. in the kindest of ways, of course. it takes growing a baby to give you room to complain about your body. pregnancy changes you - and sometimes it's really, really hard to accept that change, and change yourself back.

my new goal is to do a one-handed cartwheel.

i have to still my heart

i have to still my heart.

five years ago i started to feel my heartbeat. in my chest, in my neck, in my hands, in my head, in my stomach. i would lie in bed at night, and my headboard would tap the wall to the rhythm of it, and then i realized that wasn't normal, so i went to a doctor and got all these tests done, and then the doctor told me there was nothing wrong with my heart and that i probably had an anxiety disorder, but he wasn't going to prescribe me any medication unless i wanted it, and that i should read some self-help books.

okay. i totally didn't.

then i got pregnant. i was sick and throwing up all the time and i just sort of had to go with it, because there was nothing i could do about it, and i was living day to day just waiting for river and not caring what i did or looked like, and i realized one day i hadn't felt my heart in a long time. i was a lot healthier when i was pregnant though, because i ate better food and took supplements and walked a lot, so either it was that i was calmed mentally or physically. either way, i was no longer anxious.

then river was born. i realized i'd never loved anything more and i started crying about everything sad i saw on tv, and i couldn't watch oprah or the news because these stories about dead soldiers and abandoned babies brought tears, because i know there's no greater pain in the world than the pain of losing someone you love dearly, and i love river dearly, and now i can feel my heart again because i think, what if i lose him someday?

i'm trying so hard to not think these things. before i got pregnant i worried and worried, i would have dreams about war and losing my little sisters and my mom having cancer and john falling out of love with me and i would wake up with my stomach in my throat and i would be gasping for air and then i would start crying in the middle of the night thinking WHAT IF THAT REALLY HAPPENS and it was the most awful feeling.

i was so happy to not be thinking these things anymore, but every once in a while i get these thoughts, they're like dominoes, and i find myself worrying more and more and i'm afraid i'm becoming anxious.

i have to still my heart again.

identity:mama

i think i've forgotten how to write. last night i stayed awake for a long time, writing in my head. the unfortunate thing is i can't always get those thoughts out onto paper. when i could write, that's when i was wrapped up in myself. then i fell in love, then i became a mother. both of those things demanded all of me because i no longer live just for myself. but i forget myself sometimes. not that i'm not selfish and mostly think of myself. but i mean - i forget what i really want to do [besides falling in love, becoming a mother - i'm talking simple things, you know?], who i really want to be.


i read that it takes a woman seven years after becoming a mother to find herself again. when i heard this, i agreed with it, figuring it must be true. then i started thinking maybe it was wrong to think like that. this is who i am.


but no, i get it. and i believe it. not that i get anything negative out of being a mother. at all. but it's just that i'm not living for myself anymore. and that's fine. it's perfect. if the above is true, though, it will take me about twenty years to regain my "self," whoever that is, assuming john and i have the five children we want over the course of fifteen years.


but it's different, you know? i haven't really talked to my best friend a whole lot during the past year, because i'm a mom, and she's not. like i said, it changes you. i wonder, sometimes, what life would be like if i'd chosen to live it differently - finish college, get married and have children in my mid to late twenties. and, i don't really read auto-biographies and art books anymore. i read about how to sew things, how to organized, how to eat healthy. and going to bookstores in the first place can be a hassle, because i've got to bundle up river, strap him in his carseat, and it's not like he's going to sit quietly in his stroller the whole time we're there. and i'm okay with all that. but i'm also okay with getting a little bit of it back. especially my best friend.


so, i'm creating this space, this little bit of virtual space, to rediscover my identity in the midst of motherhood. i don't even know if it's possible, because i'm pretty sure my identity is solely "river's mama." and like i said, that's perfect. motherhood does change you. for the better, i think, for most women. for normal women, if i may be so bold. i'm not trying so desperately to separate myself from the mother i am [frankly, i'm in love], but i am trying to remember who i was before. i'm still me. yes, the same me sitting outside a bookstore, smoking a camel light, rocking holey jeans, listening to my oh-so-uncommon indie music in my headphones.


do you know, that now, i do not own one single pair of holey jeans? see, that's what i'm talking about. that's what i've been trying to say this whole time. i need some jeans with holes. and i think something is going to have to be done about that. like ripping some holes in jeans. i think i will. and i may smoke a camel. in between breast feeding, of course.