Spring cleaning

I got a bit of the spring fever today and deleted 732 blog posts. I stopped deleting at Mo's birth. But I might continue, might wipe the slate clean. Mo is 4 years old now, and Margo is 4 months. The baby is healthy and cheerful. The sisters adore one another. The biggest surprise here is that I am painting all the time. So much more painting than writing. My poor old blog got lost in the shuffle of life. It's a good thing, though, to be fully immersed in life. To stop standing behind the camera and be part of the action.

Full term

Today is baby's due date, but she's still camped out in my abdomen. Some reflections on this pregnancy as its days are numbered...

How completely different-feeling to carry a baby that isn't footling breech! (Still love Chuck Norris facts, though.) Aside from the weight loss in the 1st trimester and major indigestion throughout, this has been a very comfortable pregnancy. No bowling ball embedded in my ribcage; just a bowling ball flattening my bladder into a prolapsed pancake. Because my thyroid was under control beforehand this time, I did not have to take a ride on the hormonal roller coaster. And I've gained a less weight, ranging between 20 and 25 pounds depending on how much edema I'm rockin' on any given day. Gotta love having elephant legs.

I did need maternity clothes with this pregnancy, and started to need them early on. Almost everything was given to me secondhand from friends or was purchased at the thrift store near my house. I bought a couple of new Liz Lange shirts at Target, and the quality:cost ratio is very disappointing.

Although we found out baby's gender and chose a name for her early on (so we could tell Mo what to expect), I'm still inclined to think of it as an "it" until it is out in the world and alive and screaming. I felt that way last time, too. It's a defense mechanism. So many things can go wrong, even up to the end.

But seriously, she needs to get the hell out of my belly. Like now. Pregnancy has fully lost what little charm it had.

Also, we're planning to let our family know when baby arrives, but we're keeping it off social media until we're headed home from the hospital. (PLEASE be polite and do not post our news publicly until you see that we have posted something first!) Last time I was bombarded with phone calls and visits, and I've gotta tell you that was really difficult for me. I had had major abdominal surgery, and it was the first time I was ever hospitalized for anything in life. I was trying to figure out breastfeeding with a jaundiced baby who wouldn't gain weight. And I was suffering serious sleep deprivation. I let the pain get way ahead of me before starting any drugs, and I was fearful that the baby would evaporate if I closed my eyes. I think I maxed out around 36 hours before Robb started acting like a bouncer for me. I'm hoping the hospital can be a little more peaceful this time around. Well, as peaceful as the hospital can be...

"Chuck Norris can gargle peanut butter."

Um, I'm getting sidetracked.

Oh, right, the old wives tales. So I'm NOT drinking castor oil. Too gross. And evening primrose capsules seem like a bad idea. But I have been sitting/bouncing on an exercise ball and taking long walks around the neighborhood. Also I ate a whole fresh pineapple per my friend Brenda's recommendation. Do yourself a favor and never eat a whole fresh pineapple: it changes the acidity of your poop and makes you want to sit on an inflatable donut for a few days afterward.

Robb's out fishing this afternoon because it's a beautiful day, and he realizes his free time is going to take a major hit in the near future. Mo has a headcold and is watching "The Cat in the Hat" downstairs. And I'm sitting here trying to use Jedi mind tricks to induce labor. Wish me luck!

Lately

Pregnancy: it's not as fun as you remember it. Luckily the pukesies and misery of the first trimester are well behind me. I lost 8 pounds. But now I believe I am enormous. There was a week or so that I couldn't catch my breath when my uterus started its northern migration and jammed all of my organs into my throat. My yoga instructor would intone for us to enjoy one more round of deep breaths, and I could complete about 15 hummingbird-sized breaths in the allotted time. Otherwise, things are good. A little insomnia, a little back pain, and a desire for sauerkraut. Most of the time I sort of keep the pregnancy on the back burner and just chase after Mo. She tells me she has a baby growing her tummy, too. Nice show of solidarity.

I have been painting, painting, painting all the time because tomorrow I deliver paintings for a exhibition in June at Bishop's Stock. More info on this to follow.

Mother of the year

When we took Sukey for a walk today, Mo started saying, "Humdinger!" And when we got home she said, "Arabesque!" I asked her what does arabesque mean, and she said, "Means spin around." So having the tv babysit her a little while I'm not feeling well isn't all bad. She improved her vocabulary. I think these words came from Sheriff Callie's Wild West and Olivia respectively. But then right before bedtime she said, "This...is....Oxyclean!" Perhaps we overdid it on the tv today.

It's been a good week

Stickers and M&M's all around!

A week in the life of Mo

Our new library has been open for 2 weeks. It has a terrific children's section complete with a massive bead maze, play kitchen, bins full of toys, comfy chairs, and of course books. We have been there several times now. Last week saw temps around 90, so Mo and I hit the playground early before the slides got too hot. She's becoming a very proficient climber. Our bananas browned on the counter before we ate them all, so we baked banana bread together. Jessie joined us for Jefferson Patterson Park's annual Children's Day on the Farm. We became members of BCNES and have been to the Battle Creek Nature Center twice this week. Just when we were getting used to the distant whir of bug-song the cicadas are starting to die off. And as you can see from the last three photos Mo is very into wearing flowers, smelling flowers, and picking flowers these days.

I was glad that last Friday was Mo's last day of school at the Judy Center. -- She goes for 1 hour one day a week during the school year. The program and staff are great. And I think Mo enjoys the program. But I still feel really conflicted about the concept of "school readiness" for a 2 year old. (For example, consider Sweden.) It's sort of the same sick feeling I get when I see commercials for online early learning academies. Classrooms and screen-time do not seem age-appropriate venues. -- Regardless, I was happy that school let out and looking forward to the summer being a less structured time of play and cooking and hiking and trips to the zoo and swimming and ice cream and library books.

I have a mommy-friend who is a real planner, though. While I want to be polite and not tread on her toes, I am learning to say no to her well-intentioned machinations. No, we're not enrolling Mo in xyz. She will not be an over-scheduled kid. The sanctity of the summer will be preserved.

That said, our vacation begins when I get off work Saturday afternoon. We canceled our trip to Niagara Falls and Toronto because we need a new heat pump this year. At first I was really down in the dumps about it. But then we altered our plans to fit the tight budget, a cheap-cation if you will, and it's going to be a more comfortable and relaxing 10 days. On agenda are swimming, fishing, a visit to the zoo, time with grandparents, and a trip to Pittsburgh. Should be really fun!

Grapefruit two ways, a difficult age, and consignment shopping

At Meeting there are meditations posted on the wall for each month. I read through the queries for Fourth Month and got snagged on this one:

Are you open to receiving guidance and support? And do you give thanks for them?

There is nothing like being a parent to make you realize how much guidance and support you could really use. All day every day. And yet I am terrible at asking for and accepting help. I have no experience with this. If I ask it is with an apology at the ready. I need practice. I have the gratitude part, but as far ask opening myself to receive guidance and support I am like the priest and the grapefruit.

There was a young man studying to become a priest. Grapefruits were available in the cafeteria each morning. He did not grow up eating citrus fruit and discovered that he enjoyed having grapefruit for breakfast. But the act of cutting the fruit in half caused the him much anxiety. He discovered that there were two kinds of grapefruit. Sometimes when he sliced open a grapefruit the sections appeared as a sunburst of little triangles. That kind of grapefruit was easy to scoop out with a spoon and eat. Other days the sections were arrayed sideways. This other kind of grapefruit was time-consuming to eat and made the priest struggle through the membranes over and over to get to the fruit. He studied and compared whole grapefruits trying to tell one type of grapefruit from the other, but all the fruit looked the same. He continued to be confounded by his breakfast. One day the seminarian told a friend about his difficulties. The other man explained to him the anatomy of a grapefruit and how to cut them in half along the equator. The young man was ecstatic! This simple information was a revelation to him. It changed the quality of his life.

I am still comparing grapefruits. Do you ever feel like this? That one brief turn of the wrist is all that separates you from enlightenment? If only I was receptive to a little guidance.

I want to take Mo on the Metro one weekday in May to see Juan's art show in Washington, DC. I really want to see this show. As I plan the day trip out in my head, I consider how in the suburbs it's not a big deal if there are no changing facilities available. We can always retreat to the privacy of our car to take care of business if necessary. How does this work in an urban environment when I am only armed with a stroller and picnic blanket? Do people change their kids in the middle of a park? Are changing facilities more readily available in public rest rooms? And where will we eat? And when will she nap? And I'm thinking about how wiggly and difficult Mo is right now and wondering if taking her to the city by myself is a good idea and generally trying to talk myself out of the whole excursion before it begins. Conveniently a few lines from the movie Angus popped into my head. I don't know the exact quote, but Angus and Grandpa are having a conversation. Angus laments that he is at a difficult age (14), and Grandpa says, "Me too." I am so wrapped up in thinking about what a difficult age Mo is to do this little field trip that I am making the trip more complicated than it needs to be, and I realize that I am at a difficult age also. Upon reflection, who isn't?

And one final thought... I was at the children's consignment sale at the fairgrounds a couple weeks ago. As I waited in the long line to check out, I was right in front of an Amish woman and her two sons. The line deliberately snakes around through the toys and baby supplies, so you can shop those items while you wait. The little Amish boys wanted to touch every plastic, blinking, flashing, musical monstrosity that they saw. At first their mother scolded them and tried to shepherd them back into the line, but after a while it was a lost cause. She kind of shook her head and said they were old enough to behave themselves. The sale would be sensory overload for any child, but you could actually see the Amish boys' minds blowing. I thought how difficult it must be for that Amish mother to keep the consumerism of the world out of their home. And then I thought about how hard it is for me to keep even a fraction of the consumerism of the world (branded clothing, computer games, gadgets, princesses, etc.) out of my home. Some days we are not so different. Acquisitiveness threatens to swallow us all.

An orchard for a dome

Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
(from poem number 57 by Emily Dickinson)

We hung a suet feeder just outside the kitchen window at the new house. Each morning Maureen and I watch the songbirds--we all eat our breakfast together. The variety of species that visits each morning is impressive: eastern bluebirds, northern cardinals, white-breasted nuthatches, tufted titmice, black-capped chickadees, red-bellied woodpeckers, yellow-bellied sapsuckers, blue jays, red-winged blackbirds, American robins, boat-tailed grackles, northern juncos, purple finches, and white-crowned sparrows.

As each takes its turn and flies away, Mo says, "Back!" She hauls my Peterson Field Guide to Eastern Birds around and pages through the illustrations. The daily bird watching is a quiet sort of routine we share. When I write "quiet" I mean simple. I find myself looking for more ways to cultivate simple, peaceful routines for Mo, for all of us.

About 50 years ago Elise Boulding wrote, "It is possible to drown children and adults in a constant flow of stimuli, forcing them to spend so much energy responding to the outside world that inward life and the creative imagination which flowers from it becomes stunted or atrophied." More apt today than when she wrote it.

I worry that there is too much noise in our lives. And as my mommy-friends encourage me to sign Mo up for this or that, to buy the latest learning gadget, I resist. We go to storytime at the library and meet our friends to play. We color and play with puzzles and read books. We listen to music and dance and sing. We pretend to cook, and we actually cook. We do laundry and put away dishes together. I'm not some kind of luddite saint--we watch tv, too, but try to keep limits on it. All the while I see people racing around us. I try to do it the way my parents and Robb's parents did it. Their model works just fine.