The Rats' Song

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

Era planchadora
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.

Will

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.

I'maaa Back!

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.

Cheers!   

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.

To Stand Whilst Sitting Down

Yo! How’ve you been? I’ve been, you know been. Vacations have been on for a while now, and I’ve been lazing my head off, if I’m allowed to invent a word or two. Really, after a difficult semester it’s only fair. Also, I don’t have internet at my home right now, so when I do get internet access I do as most mortals do on such occasions… and head straight to Facebook to catch up on what my friends have been up to. Don’t you just love how FB has legitimized being nosy?

Anyhoo… as to my person, like absolutely everything else that exists in this world, changes these past few weeks have made their appearance. You too, but you know me I like to document consciousness. Does that sound weird? Sure hope not, I'm just a strong supporter of knowing oneself as I’ve mentioned several times before in my posts, and I try to live and write according to what I think. Whatevs…

These changes haven’t been physical, or personality, or behavior wise. They’ve been paradigm wise. Some of the more mentally and physically exhausting I’ve been through. Why? Because we all think we’re so clever and have everything figured out and have excuses for everything except for the mistakes or faults of others. But as for ourselves, we minimize  our errors, and justify like we majored in law. To voluntarily humble yourself, accept that you’re wrong and care enough to do something about it. That’s a tad hard. And that’s what I’ve been up to.

I dunno if you ‘ve noticed, but I like myself. With my good and bad qualities, my good and bad moments. I know I’m not a genious, nor a model, nor a saint but find contentment in knowing that I try hard each day to be better. Except when I become too comfortable and allow more… mediocreness (Hmmm, I sure hope that word's in the dictionary) that I usually would.
 
I knew I wasn't doing my best, but I didn’t care as much as I should’ve. It led to conflicts with Hubby, and reflecting upon this situation, I uprooted a few things about my character that I had to work on. Like thinking I’m so clever I don’t need advice on x or y. I take my own parameters and think they’re precise, and stop taking into account The Parameters that supposedly guide me, as well as Hubbys’ parameters, which can be very different from my own.

To compromise is not something I’m very good at, because I tend to give away or commit to more that I actually feel comfortable with, and I’m kinda stubborn. To illustrate this trait, I lean on the example of a child who is told to sit, and eventually forced to sit, but says “in my insides I’m actually standing up!” You get the idea.

Only sometimes you’re wrong, and you should be humble and sit down on the outside as well as on the inside where only you know what you’re thinking. And this is the lesson I recently learned. Or at least, I’m in the process of learning, because old habits, particularly mental habits, where everything we do or don’t do starts, die hard. I’ve tried to not draw it out nor blow it out of proportion, so I’m taking more preventive actions rather than damage control. But I’m glad I’m learning this now and not later when it’s harder to change.

Humbleness, I welcome you. Please stay!

Don't Grow Up... It's a Trap! - part I

I recently saw a very funny pic that caught my attention. It said " Don't grow up.. It's a trap!" (See pic). And I couldn't agree more. Don't get me wrong, I'm not referring to youthful irresponsability nor anything like it. There's just a huge difference between growing up, growing old and ripening.

From my view point, growing up is something like conforming or adapting to the "adult" world: go to school, or get a job,to work, to become boring, get married, have kids, pay your taxes...etc. To a certain extent we can't escape from this, it's natural that life goes on and our circumstances and responsibilities have to change, but not necesarily us you know. I'm sure a regular individual is capable of retaining the essentials of their character as the years pass by even though their personality adapts and morphs depending on the circumstances.

Remember that our character depends on the inner traits that distinguish us from others, while personality is the mask we show the world, the way we face it. Maybe you have a playful nature, but when you're in a bussiness meeting you won't display that trait very often will you? Though there is a time and a place for everything, one is genuine in proportion to how the personality reflects the character. Growing up does mean being more "responsable", but the process doesn't have to change you, much less force you to conform to the likings of others or become "boring."

Growing old... is a sad, sad thing. Physically aging is not sad: what's sad is when as a person grows older and their mind is too lazy or just doesn't want to mature at the same rate. And so, we have thirty year olds, forty year olds that behave like teenagers and have tantrums like little kids. They don't understand the value of responsability, of a relationship... worse still, if they got married or have kids. It's one thing to be feckless, and another thing completely to drag others into it, specially children. The poor little things have paid way too many times for their parents mistakes.

And last of all, my favorite: Ripening. Just like a delicious fruit that you savor when it's ripe... that's what we should all aim at. It's knowing oneself, and respecting and appreciating oneself with the passing of time. We're all so wonderful and full of life and energy as children... wouldn't it be great if we could somehow keep and project all of that as adults? Sure, it's not the same things that worry us as children and as adults, and the latter are also much more tired as the norm, but isn't it worth the effort?

To accept oneself, to love oneself... to be proud of who you are. To allow our minds to be suprised by the big and little things... to smile as a butterfly passes by, to wonder where the leaves in the wind have been, to ask questions... to be like children in our hearts. What an incredible gift not only to ourselves, but to those that will follow in our footsteps, those around us. It's so easy to go with the flow and allow ourselves to give in to that frown more often, to wear a scowl, to answer bitingly instead of looking for a positive solution. But let's not give in: it is well worth it.

 Let's all ripen shall we? We'll enjoy life so much more.

The Internal Sea

How deep the ocean is, and the sea with its many colors and eternal waves. With the life inside it, and its currents, and its stillness.

It's bliss to imagine all the wonders, the mysteries, the stories it holds but just like the ocean inside us most prefer to wade near the shore and just touch the surface.

They're content when their reflection shows them what they want, upset when it doesn't, but only truly happy when it shows them who they really are.

However, they'll end up returning to the beach.

Why restrict the ocean to its limit when there is so much strength and beauty trying to burst from its within? Take a dip in your sea, in your emotions, dreams, desires and more.

Don't be afraid of getting lost because only then will you find yourself. Don't be afraid to drown because you were meant to swim and not just that.

For only sailors that know the sea can sail to far away places.

And here I have...

We went to church today and dressed up fancy (skirt and pink shoes). I used for the first time a new bag that my mother in law gave me that more than a bag is destined to be a diaper bag. As I transfered Belle Filles' stuff from the old diaper bag to the new stylish bag/diaper bag I thought of the different things I have in there:

1.- Six to seven diapers
2.- Two outfits for Belle Fille
3.- Melox for her bottom (better than any rash cream I've ever tried on her)
4.- A bottle of water
5.- Baby milk powder (vanilla, mind you. It's the only flavor Belle Fille accepts)
6.- Baby wipes
7.- My cellphone
8.- My camara

No matter how hard I try to pass my bag as a fashionable handbag, with that content, I will always have an undercover diaper bag.

The art of digressing

I feel like this is a confession of some sort.

As you know, I am very fond of digressing. Allowing my thought to wander, becoming seemingly more random as I get more and more ambiguous... It would seem as if my thoughts start to become disjointed, unrelated... but do they? Truth is, I (usually) say what I say and do what I do following a path of some sort that only I know. Sometimes my object as I seem to  verbally wander aimlessly is to amuse myself, sometimes to amuse and confuse others, sometimes to create a distraction and cloak something else.

The mode may vary, depending on my audience, my purpose, the theme, and of course my mood.

Sometimes the people that sample my digressions are close friends and can more or less understand depending on how well they know me. In these cases, depending on how much I want them to understand I also tend to give less sutil hints with my gestures and my eyes. With strangers I don't digress very often, and in the rare case I do I'm just amusing them or myself but not letting them in on any substance like I do with friends.

I have two main purposes when I digress. One is for amusement, another is for expressing myself. But I mix them very often, one leading to another. For example, I might start with something trivial and play with the subject, displaying an exagerated version of my scatterbrainyness. My friends are amused, and I'm having a good time. But if I have the need to express myself without needing others to understand I will do so in a veiled manner, keeping in tune with my lighthearted joking and messing around. But if you actually make sense of what I say, and you know me, you might understand what I mean. What I want to say, but don't necessarily want you to understand.

The theme... well you can imagine. The more personal, the more dim and in breadcrumbs I am. The less, the more literal. Then again, I can be very literal but say things in such a manner that I seem to be speaking in metaphors. I love to play with different elements of ambiguity.

My mood... well I have to feel good to digress because for me it's another way of being playful. When I'm angry or frustrated or sad I become very blunt and to the point. So the opposite feelings like being carefree, lead me to beat around the bush, to digress.

I recently talked to a friend about this matter, and laughed myself silly. See, back in high school when I felt more like digressing (just in case you haven't realized it yet, this sentence has a hint: refer to last paragraph), some of my friends actually thought there was something wrong with me! Like I had an attention deficit disorder or something! I thought they knew I was fooling around! I mean sure, I never explained this to them, but still! Oh the funnies...!

Though I now hug myself with glee at their being so naive, this makes me value my friends more. Even though they thought there was something wrong with me, they never made fun of me, nor made me feel less. They were always sweet, always genuine. I was very lucky to meet such people, and am luckier for still having them as friends.

I don't know if any of you are reading this, but thank you friends. Thanks for putting up with me even if you didn't understand me. I love y'all! :)