miércoles, 19 de junio de 2013
Hey y'all! I hope you've been well, as have I. But I must admit than more than well I've been... different. In a good way.
See, of late I've felt wonderful and strong but I've cried loads as well. I've worried and not cared, I've been fed up and cinical and exploded and then been totally blissful and radiant and then angry and dissappointed. I don't remember being happier at times, and at others I can barely recognize myself. A few friends are actually worried!
I've allowed myself to be very pissed off and I've allowed myself to show it. And others to suffer it. But believe me, they had it coming.
And all this 'cuz I got too tired. And when I'm too tired, it can be an issue to others because they don't know what the heck to do with me. Deference, subtleness dry up in me and I become direct and even a tad bit heartless beyond this point of no return where there is just no freakin' stopping me and I don't give a damn how ruthless I am.
I passed that point recently. It felt great for me, very liberating. Others... not so much. I'm sorry if I hurt anyone, but I don't want to take back anything I said or did, or say and do. I can't anyway so whatever.
Overall, my tolerance for crap has diminished a great deal. I might be going over the edge a bit, and truth be told I lost it but there's only so much I can do. I am now deep within the twilight zone.
I just hope I don't over do it and am smart about it all.
Wish me the best!
jueves, 2 de mayo de 2013
I've been thinking about the diferent stages of maturity and of the process as a whole. This is of course based on my own experience but I suppose it's the same for everyone. I'll tell you how it's been in my particularly case though. My starting point is college...
Growing up Stage by Stage
So I'm a freshman studying international relationships, and in less that a year I am also with child and married. Fast huh? Though I continued to go to the university while at the same time I tried to wrap my head around being a mom and a wife, my rationality was only slightly distrurbed, whereas I was in a stage I shall call Sheep Nature. I did what I thought best (which curiously enough was in line with most "authority figures" point of views) and kept going, kept walking, led docily. I was a young student/mom with an inherently sweet smile, a (usually) pacifying nature and high boiling point. Which invited help that allowed me to continue my education, and for which I am deeply grateful. Cooking recipes, house keeping tips, and how to be a "proper"wife included.
Sounds good huh? It's obvious that I was pretty passive, allowing what might be considered a certain amount of doting to come my way. The fact that I made very few decisions and had little to do with what happened around me didn't bother me, I just felt thankful and a little guilty.
However, this knowledge started to gnaw on me. I needed help, that's for sure, but did I really need it that badly? Did the fact that I was in my early twenties make me less apt to be a mother than older women? Or my nomadic past? Was I particularly sloppy in my housekeeping because of my upbringing? Did a appear to be meek and childish? Weak? Was I?
Some how, I felt like a little girl, not as capable as I'd felt before. I started to become more sensible to the condescention that was implied each time I received help. Frases like "she can't help it," "what can you expect if it's not what she's used to?" stung deep within me. Even the dumbest, littlest thing would silently aggravate me, and even though I knew they were meant with the best intentions, with no maliciousness at all, the mere amount of this kind of events started to piss me off.
And so began my Rebelious Stage. I began to be respondona, to talk back which apparently didn't add up to my "sweet"nature. True to my diplomatic calling, I don't believe I was ever rude though I was called cheeky on several occassions. I started to try and put emotional, even physical distance with what bothered me even if it made my workload bit heavier. And I started to let go, even reject, some of the guilt I'd felt up until then.
Before, there had been few times that I had refused a suggestion. And when I did I would have this apolegetic smile, like a child humoring an adult as he got away with something he wanted. That's changed now, and though I still have that tendency with specific people, it's started to decrease as my guilt ebbs away. .
I'm not a lightbulb, but I have a brain and know how to use it. Perhaps my grades don't always reflect that, but they're not bad either. If you consider the relatively small amount of time I dedicate to studying, you can also imagine how well I'd do I organized my time better.
I won't wring your neck if you change the TV show I was watching, or if you insist I use a certain dress instead of the one I'd already chosen for a wedding. Being at I odds with others is common, and I won't win every dispute I'm presented with. So I chose my battles. I don't fight those that I don't really care about. But don't think I'm instinctively acquiescent lest you wish to be unpleasantly suprised.
The rest of the process is all blended together because I'm still in the midst of it. I sometimes feel like a crab, taking one step forward and one step back... sometimes I feel like I've finally achieved Independence, but since I'm not totally used to it I start to Wobble and doubt and lean on others.
I feel vulnerable, telling y'all about this. But at the same time it's like a Confirmation of my progress, evidence of my goals and a refusal to go back. You're my witness, and this is the commitment that I've made with myself.
Thank you for reading, and I hope your own process is going well.
miércoles, 24 de abril de 2013
Belle Fille, Husband and I have been on vacation at the beach for more than a week now! LOVE!
We're going back tomorrow, but my tan/shrimpy skin color accounts for the long days in the sun we've been through. There's only so much sunburn I can take though, so coming back to reality won't be that bad. At least at first.
Plus, procrastination is creeping up on me ready to bite my behind 'cuz of schoolwork!
domingo, 7 de abril de 2013
I've often thought that the "sit look pretty and wait for prince charming to come" is filtered from movies like Sleeping Beauty and Barbie dolls. Sure Mulan is the exception and in recent years stronger female characters have been produced but I'm still hesitant. I do not want my kid to grow with such misconceptions.
And yet, I did. I loved Belle from Beauty and the Beast and dressed up as one princess or another and I had loads of Barbies. I'm afraid I adopted a few concepts I'm not proud of but grew out of them in time (thank goodness for books!). I didn't turn out that bad in spite of everything though. And like I said, there are a couple good things that can be picked up from shows now a days. For example, I don't remember if it was Cinderella II or III, but the aforementioned did her own thing instead of being a "proper lady". That much at least can be rescued.
Our culture is flooded with wrong ideas on what girls should be: how to look, what to wear, what to say. Augh. And yet, I can't protect Belle Fille from all that, I'm not even sure I want to because she needs to know both good and bad to be able to form a criteria of her own. So what to do?
I've decided that in my house princesses and Barbies won't be encouraged nor banned. Avoided as much as possible though. If she reeeaaally wants to see a certain program or toy, I suppose she could twist my arm into it. But I'll do close to whatever it takes to distract her before that. You've got my word for it.
PS: Truth be told, I have mixed feelings regarding Tinkerbell. I like the curiosity and non comformist way to do things she shows in her movies and though her dress is way to short, I don't really mind.
sábado, 23 de marzo de 2013
I was on the bus the other day reading a marvelous book when taken over by a thought that grew into the following text. I wanted to share it with you. It's not what I would call polished, but it's mine and I own myself blunt or polished or whatever.
A word of warning: sometimes I talk (or write) funny/weird when I feel philosophical or just plain silly, and this was one such time. I could edit my writting to make it more "normal," but then again why would I want to? Please bear with me.
On Devils and Angels
It is said that devils walk where angels fear to tread. Yet what distinguishes the two? For spiritual truth left aside, aren't we all devils and angels at the same time?
I for one wish no one harm but am far from being a saint. In my human state I sometimes hurt unknowingly and without malice out of carelessness or ingnorance, sometimes have the reaction of a wounded animal that bites back. Though motive and context may be understood, I'm afraid a hurt can't be justified by these, and by this judgement mankind and I as a whole are found at fault.
Some more devilish, some more angelic. The proportion may vary but these two aren't mutually exclusive. Not quite a devil. Not quite an angel. But a woman. A man. A being. While our humanness condemns us because of our nature, we are also blessed because of it. We are capable of friendship. Of goodness. Of love. And more.
Truth is hard to find and hard to give when a heart has been hurt, and yet the noblest most angelic actions always involve reaching towards another heart. To lend a hand, share an insight, give a kiss or share a mind while at the same time being vulnerable to hurt or be hurt... what is more human than this?
Thus, I embrace the angel in me in to the same degree as my devil as to avoid madness and tearing in myself and others. And really it would be worse for me if I didn't.
And that was that.
Remember Cracks on the Sidewalk? It's kinda the same, my bad side belongs to me as much as my good side. If I try and deny it and pretend I'm all sweets and flowers, it'll be like sweeping dust under the bed. At some time it'll come out and bite my behind you know? Like my sweet Edmund Pevensie once said, "If there's a wasp in the room, I'd like to be able to see it."
We all have our inner "demons," negative traits that we are prone to have. Some can be harmfull, others not so much, but even something as dumb as being lazy will hinder you in life, and there are more dangerous vices. There are also times when your particular "devil" can be a blessing in disguise for yourself or others. For example, a rebel that stands agains a cruel government would be mistakenly called a devil by some.
Be carefull with what is "acceptable" or not. Does society dictate what is good and what is bad? Make sure that your criteria is yours, and make sure to debug what feeds it as well.
The only person that can legitimately judge you is you. So weight your actions and your motives, keep a short leash on what need be, but be kind to yourself. Keep your angel close and your devils closer.
domingo, 17 de marzo de 2013
I took Belle Fille to the park the other in hopes off getting her tired enough for a nap on our return (I might have been the one needing the nap if truth be told). She was full of energy and since there's a playground right behind the park we went there afterwards until a van pulled up and unloaded half a dozen elementary kids. We weren't exactly exiled, but left before my toddler got hurt with all the crazed kids running around.
Since my child was reluctant on going back to the house we returned to the park, but by now I was spent. So I put her on top of this little hill.
Now, this is a very advantageous little hill. It's long enough for a small child to walk along it, but a bit steep and strewn with pebbles and the like so if the kid isn't careful the odds of falling down are pretty high. Oh, and the hill's bordered with some painful looking lava rocks. And like I said, this is where I let my kid play. On purpose.
Where was I? At the bottom of the hill of course. Near enough to stop her from falling into the harsh rocks. Far enough for her to have to walk a bit to hand me these weeds that only grew on top of the hill which I asked for several times. Bluntly put, I had her coming to and fro up and down the hill to give me these weeds I supposedly needed.
Why you might ask? To teach her a wordless lesson. If she rushed and was careless, she would fall on the pebbles. And she did fall plenty of times. At first. But after seven or so stumbles (I caught her a couple times before she hit the big rocks and actually got hurt) she started to be more careful and skilled until it got to the point where she no longer fell down while going up and down the before mentioned hill.
This is how Belle Fille learns best. If I warn her about something, she'll probably ignore me. If I sit her down and explain to her why she has to be careful, she might actually listen to me. But if I explain why she has to be careful and I let her try it on her own I can rest assured she will learn the lesson.
Sure, she might fall down a couple times, that's why I stay close to break any dangerous stumble. But I won't always be there to help her go up and down a hill, nor will I always be able to hold her hand every time there's an obstacle during her life. So I prefer she learns to be careful and to trust her own abilities as a child now, and not later when the going get's rough.
That means watching her fall down a couple times while she gets the hang of things.
I know it's for the best (it has to be), but the occassional bystander (older moms, sheesh) will give me a self-righteous look and I can almost hear them thinking that they'll be better parents than me because I let my little girl fall down and pick herself up.
Does that make me a bad mom? Nah I don't think so.
viernes, 8 de marzo de 2013
I sing. A lot. But this post isn't about me singing, it's about Belle Filles' new favorite song. Rememember when my little girl was teeny tiny and I sung her a lullaby? Well Muñequita linda isn't her favorite anymore (though we still sing it a lot). Now it's "Una Rata Vieja." This is an old, old song too, mexican lore, and though it doesn't strike as a tune for a child, it's sung to little children.
Una rata vieja
An old rat
Would iron clothes
Por planchar su falda
For ironing her skirt
Se quemó la cola.
She burnt her tail.
Se puso pomada
She put some balm on
Se amarró un trapito
She tied a cloth on herself
Y a la pobre rata
And the poor rat
Le quedó un rabito.
Was left a little stump.
miércoles, 20 de febrero de 2013
Wake up the child in my head. Take her to the playroom. To the pool. To the park. Teach her to laugh. To imagine. To create. Teach her to fly.
Take her to the sky and sit her on the clouds. Tell her of the past. Talk about the mother. The king. The builder. Talk about their hopes and their fears. Their deeds.
Surround her with people and let her see. See them work, see them reep and laugh. And weep. See them around her, but also see herself reflected inside of them.
Stand back. She might cry and stomp her feet. She might sit and only think. Or she might search for what she needs. Take her hand, accept her peace and respect her thoughts.
Embrace the woman she is. The fighter. The lover. The dreamer. The thinker.
And one last thing Will. Never let her down.
jueves, 14 de febrero de 2013
Hey y'all. I took some time off blogging because last semester was a bit heavy for me and I couldn't write leisurely without oh I don't know burning dinner or not doing papers for school or feeling guilty for not spending time with Belle Fille, my daughter. Or sleeping for that matter (we all know a girl needs her beauty sleep!)
But that was then, and I'm back into the rhythm of things now. This means I'll be regularly posting again, and I'm sure my mental health will thank me for it.
If you're a new reader of my blog, Welcome! If you're a regular Thank You Doubly!
So yeah, this is me Nancy B.
jueves, 30 de agosto de 2012
Last night as I lay in bed with Belle Fille in my arms, I felt a slight tug at my heart thinking that since the start of this semester, I haven’t spent as much time with her like when I was on summer vacation. It’s a complex feeling: I don’t feel guilty about going to college instead of staying home with her all day, but I wish I’d organized my time better so that she didn’t resent the change.I’m not exactly worried about her (she’s as independent as ever) but I start to hesitate as I return to an image from the afternoon of her hitting her head on a window pane and crying out one word huddled in my arms: mommy, mommy, mommy. That’s all she said for a few minutes until she calmed down. Mommy, mommy. It broke my heart especially because I spent most of yesterday doing homework and felt pangs of regret. Was she calling out to me in this manner because she missed me too much? Did she feel upset because I didn’t spend time with her like she’s used to?
In fact, Belle Fille just started sleeping cradled in my arms a few weeks back. Before, she would say “move” if I held on to her for too long when we were going to sleep. Now it’s become routine for her to lay by my side with one of my arms around her for a little while before she eases out and stretches and sleeps. Is it because she’s grown more attached to me? Or is it because she needs me more now that she’s older. I don’t know.
The past week was that of adjusting back into university mode, so it’s been more of touch and go rather than planning out my time. But I’ve definitely got to get my stuff together ‘cuz it’s not just me, or even Hubby that I’ve got to consider, but my child, my sweet baby girl that I cherish and that is in my care. I am aware that time is short as I’ve seen her grow so quickly. I don’t want to waste my time, rather, I’ll consciously make most of the time I’ve got so that while still getting things done at school and at home, my family knows And Feels that they are the most important to me, what I most enjoy.My beautiful Belle Fille. Mommy will be home soon my love.