Mommy will be home soon my love

 

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.

A moment of hesitation

There's been an outbreak of babies in my neighborhood. Just on my block are three newborns, beside two others that're slightly older. I've been visiting to check out the cuties and see how their mom's are doing, and up til now all is well. Only... well, holding these little bundles has opened this feeling in me that I'm not very familiar with. For a few seconds, holding this tiny little girl in my arms, smelling her sweet, clean baby scent, I had this longing of having another one of my own.

I mean, you know I have Belle Fille and I love her and have so much fun with her now that she's a toddler and she's so funny and spontaneous my heart swells up with pride constantly. But she was also born very big, and grew so fast so I had a very short period of time with her as a "newborn". And so, for a few seconds I want to blurt out "can I keep her?", especially to my neighbor that had twins so she should have one to spare right?

Then I remember zombiesh days when the moon and the sun blended into one seemingly eternal and slightly timeless night where you get up to feed the baby every three hours regardless of how sleep deprived you were. And I think I can handle that.

Then I worry a little about taking care of Belle Fille and the newborn simultaneously, and wonder if my eldest might get jealous of her sibling (though if I could judge from past experiences, I don't think she'll be the jealous type). And I think I can figure it out somehow.

I don't really mind a messy home, so that doesn't affect my decision. Hubby would love to have another child soon, and I always wanted my kids to be close in age so they could share the same experiences and grow up together. One by one any inquiry and query become fuzzy and disappear in such a way that I almost consider getting pregnant again. Almost.

And then the rational college student in me kicks in and freaks out. "What about school? Will you take another break? How long will it take for you to catch up with all the subjects? Will you take zoloft to manage all the stress? When the heck are you going to finish college!? "

Nope. I do not want to have another child anytime soon. From personal experience I know that things don't always happen the way you had them planned. And if another baby came we'd manage somehow. I'm not hard headed for nothing. I'm a machetito! But I will do what can be done to plan having another baby somewhere into the future when I've finished school.

Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the neighboring newborns with the plus of not having to wake up periodically in the night to feed then.

Wisps of smoke

I confess myself a complex and contradictory being, with halfhearted whims, powerful outbreaks and irrational inconsistencies. A romantic and realistic heart and soul. I thrive in my silent contemplations, as I close my eyes and free my soul forgetting reason and reality and I am a queen and a pauper, a danser, a damsel, and a poet.

As a queen I am haughty and arch my neck and my head bows to no one. And my choice is backed by power and I relish in it and in the power of my decisions. And I choose to be cruel or forgiving and the realization of each caprice and desire of mine depends on my wish of making them true or not.

And then I am a pauper and I thirst water and hunger bread. And I am thankful for each drop of rain that quenches my thirst and for each morsel that no matter the taste I find delicious because I managed to eat. And I thank the warm wind for being my coat and the world for being my home.

Then a noise arouses me from my slumber and my eyes open once more and I am who I used to be. And I stroke my babys hair and I caress her cheek as she sleeps and then so do I.

When again I see I am a passionate dancer and my skirt swirls like a river and my steps have the beat of fire. My hands and my eyes speak with each move, each stop, each curve I make soundlessly. And I am an object of awe and admiration, completely out of reach and slightly out of mind.

Then there is silence and my dress is bleached and the wild in my eye disappears and I am a sweet and fragile damsel. And I clutch at my throat and I shut my eyes and hug my knees and hide. I am scared and shut my heart and my mind and lie still in the pureness of my soul.

When I stand I am poet and my lips tingle and my eyelids bat and my stomach quivers from feelings that aren't there. And my love and my woes, my hopes and my fears pour out of my heart and my soul until I feel empty but find this emptiness oddly filling and satisfaction is mine. 

I am a somewhat ashamed and somewhat proud that I allowed these wisps of smoke escape from my mind while the thoughts and desires that mothered them have never yet seen the sun and the window of their materializing is incredibly small. 

And I pretend I am not all these things and I pretend that I am too.

And they exist. And they do not.

Can't I just get a break?

Sheesh, will I ever get over this? I seem to have had a relapse of some sort. You could say that this process started with Episode, I interpreted it in Cracks on the sidewalk, but it's still depredating me physically.  After the angst I'd been feeling lately, its catharsis, and my so-called being emotionally and mentally better, this. First day into vacations here in Mexico for semana santa,  I'm awakened by this horrible burning in my stomach. It was so bad, I'd been a while since I was in so much pain.

I also had this feeling of being completely empty as well and I was ravenous. So I picked myself up to go to the kitchen and eat, but instead I had to detour into the bathroom to throw up. When I finally got to the kitchen I got some bread and ate, wasn't able to keep it down and ended up in the bathroom again. By this time hubby had heard me and quickly went to the pharmacy to see if he could get me anything. The medicine, worked (to some extent), and I went back to sleep with an upset stomach.

I haven't gone to the doctor yet, I don't want to make this bigger than what it already is. I've been avoiding coffee and citrus fruit and anything acid. And I was fine. Except this morning when I started to feel the same. Thankfully, it was only just starting, so I got to the medicine quickly, had a good breakfast and was able to avoid it getting worse. I supose I'll just have to be lot more careful with my body and what I eat from now on in schedule and content.

So there you go. My body could just not forgive me, and now I'm taking the toll of all the mental issues I'd been having. But what frustrates me the most is that I feel so normal! I feel fine! But this comes up...!? This is becoming way too tiresome a subject. I don't even eat chili!

All I want is to integrally move on. On the emotional, mental and physical level.

Darn it!

Anger Management 101

After a brief but explosive anger episode myself, I started thinking about how different people express their anger. And how that, in turn, affects the way others see you. Some instantly react in humiliating, frustrating you name it situations, and vent on the nearest unfortunate bystander if the real cause isn’t in the perimeter. These are considered hotheads and vary from mild indignation best case scenario, to very violent.

Hotheads aren’t usually bothered very much because everyone knows that the smallest thing can and will set them off, so people will mostly go out of their way to avoid their rage. However, the amount successful in this attempt is minimum and a hothead will continue to live up to its reputation until it consciously decides to change (unlikely) and woe is you if you catch them on a bad day or are the cause, or even messenger, of bad news.

Then there are the martyrs. They will swallow pill after pill of pain, frustration and anger as much as humanly possible. They believe that the world hates and/or completely misunderstands them, and either think themselves too insignificant to retaliate or even speak their minds, or think themselves too good for that. Also, sometimes they adopt these behavior lines to attract attention, compassion, to manipulate, to justify, and to be plain lazy and let others work because oh can’t you see what I’m going through? Beware these docile creatures, they are more than capable of defending themselves and can be driven completely over the edge when they explode, forgetting caution or measure or common sense. Long oppressed feelings can easily envelop these soft smiled individuals once past their breaking point, blind them, and that, my friend, is how some of the worst murders and evils happen.

By the way, did I mention that some people are very resentful and hotheads? Isn’t human nature beautiful?

Thankfully, things don’t have to be this way. There are also gents that are able to see more than the maddening situation in front of them, and see the devastating effect their giving loose rein on their anger can have on innocent and even non innocent people. See the cause of all the mischief and how little exploding will help them solve the problem. How much it can and will backfire. Don’t get me wrong, they won’t just stop abruptly and smile, that would be so not healthy. They’ll get steamed up alright, but they’ll also try to gain control of themselves before much damage is done. Sometimes lots of damage will be done, but the point I’m trying to get at is that they’re aware of the danger and working on it. These people are considered mature (at least in that aspect) or are getting there.

Moi? I’ve been the first two on and off, but I flatter myself established in the third kinds o’ people, though I still admit I exploded. (I was alone ok? And my faithful sidekick Belle Fille was asleep so there was cero audience and no one was hurt in any way) I’ll usually try and hold my tongue, but there are also times I am set off. I tend to rationalize unconsciously most of what I do, and that in itself has saved me a world of problems. But tread carefully if I can’t or don’t want to. I am scary people. A glimpse of an irrationalized me would instantly trash my organic and natural, not forced(roll your eyes if you must, I won't blame you) sweet tempered rep. and most of everything I’ve worked for.

And so, I will continue to cry myself through my anger episodes until I am rational enough to solve the freakin’ problem I probably caused (which sadly enough is 50 50 of its only existing in my head) , or rational/too darn tired enough to accept I can’t. Or stomach it and get a hernia or something, which I’ve also been known to do. And write about it when I’m done. Like now.

Except that my stomach still hurts.