domesticana

In the past two months, I have...

1. Rushed to hospital to say good-bye to my dying step-father-in-law.
2. Visited my other father-in-law for the last time, in a nursing home where, the doctor's tell us, he will likely die within a month.
3. Helped organize a funeral.
4. Had an epiphany about religion.
5. Vowed never to leave my husband in a nursing home.
6. Put my child on an airplane by herself and watched it fly into the air without me.
7. Flew on 9 airplanes, traveled back and forth across the country, to Canada and up and down the West Coast.
8. Watched my child sprout into a beautiful, long, lean girl before my eyes.
9. Coordinated a team of people to count, sticker, tag, bag and seal 10,000 t-shirts.
10. Allowed my kid to watch two solid days of pbs cartoons on my computer. TV as babysitting is something I didn't think I'd ever need to do.
11. Launched a couple websites.
12. Added the role of customer service rep, on top of everything else, to my list of jobs.
13. Politely listened as a stranger swore at me on the phone for 15 minutes.
14. Inadvertently trained my dog to follow me around like a love-sick puppy.
15. Surrounded myself with good friends and family.
16. Consumed many bottles of wine.
17. Quit a triple cappuccino habit, cold-turkey.
18. Tried various natural remedies for Rosacea.
19. Purchased a $70 tube of antibiotic gunk for my rash.
20. Learned to accept the help of others when I need it.
21. Felt too overwhelmed to argue when my best friend, who has two small children and an infant, offered to watch my kid... for the entire day, twice. Thanks again Jess.
22. Attended a 4th of July wedding.
23. Spent a week in Montreal.
24. Sat in the best seats in the house at Cirque du Soleil, thanks to my mom.
25. Helped my daughter find a new way to channel her storytelling drive that won't get her in so much trouble for lying.
26. Spent many hours training my puppy.
27. Worried about my health insurance.
28. Read a several controversial books.
29. Watched two seasons of True Blood in the middle of the night. Yay for insomnia!
30. Drove 800 miles with a dog and a seven year old. Twice.
31. Lived like a gypsy, sleeping on the floor in the same room with my husband, my kid and my dog.
32. Discovered the necessity of a sofa.
33. Knit a few cute things and 1/4 of this lacy shawl.
34. Attempted to explain the concept of materialism and sweat shops to an American Girl obsessed seven year old.
35. Set up a Vonage phone line. Gotta love emailed voicemail with mp3 attachments.
36. Managed to keep up with jogging and yoga during my crazy summer.
37. Had at least five crying episodes in completely inappropriate situations.
38. Spent almost 10 hours in a laundromat.
39. Dreamed vividly.
40. Planned to do many things that didn't get done. Maybe now I'll tackle a few...

Flapping

I have a friend who always remarks that I'm "unflappable," that nothing seems to get me too riled up, and I think, for the most part, I would agree with that description. This summer's constant firestorm, however, put my ability to hold it together to the test repeatedly. For two months now, we've been battling one thing after the other, barely making ends meet, working our freaking asses off, and I have flapped on many occasions. I'm finding the need to have a mini-breakdown come up about once a week—just a full-on cry-it-out affair. It's so cathartic. Nothing seems as insurmountable after a good long cry.

All that said, I also feel so grateful for whatever innate ability I seem to possess for not stressing and freaking out over the little things, or even the big ones for that matter. As much as I appreciated my crying spells this summer, I don't think I would still be sane if I couldn't remain unflappable in the moment. It's obviously coming out in other ways though...

Last night I hosted my little knitting group, and everyone doted on me and expressed their concern despite the fact that I hadn't even unloaded on them about the extent of the mess surrounding me. It made me realize that I'm not "myself" right now and I don't need to say anything for people to notice.

For one thing, I look terrible. I have this unexplained rash on my face, some sort of Rosacea, that I have succumbed to treating with an antibiotic ointment despite my better judgement. I've never had anything like it before. I haven't changed anything in my diet or general surroundings. It's probably stress, right? It started about two months ago, and at first my plan of attack was to ignore it. Then I was too busy to deal with it. Then I just didn't look in the mirror for a couple weeks. Now, it's really getting to me. So much so that I'm willing to rub this gunk on my face twice a day. I just want the rash to go away!

I suppose another dead give away was the mess in my living room. Last week I started a rather messy work project on my living room floor during knitting night, and when everyone arrived last night it was exactly as I'd left it the week before. If you've ever been to my house, you would know how bizarre it is for me to leave a mess anywhere for long. I'm tidy, let's leave it at that. I just haven't had the time or energy to deal with it.

I feel tired. I look tired. I am tired. And yet, the last thing I want to do when Ella goes to bed is forsake my "me" time. I want to cut loose and escape. I want to get caught up in books and movies and chat with friends about their mundane problems and exciting lives. The last thing I want to do is go to bed just so I can get up and start the hard part all over again.

How can I balance sanity, motherhood, working full time, money stress, physical health and being a good wife? It just doesn't seem do-able. And by good wife, I just mean supporting the man I married, my friend, the father of my child. He needs a lot of support right now... It all comes down to feeling disappointed in myself for not being able to do everything as well as I want to and trying to just get over it already. I don't know who or what instilled in me this sensibility that the things I choose to do had better be done perfectly, but I wish it weren't quite so forceful. It just makes the feeling of failure that much more profound.

I remember being told that I could have everything, do anything and be as successful as I try to be. I wish someone had told me that all three of those things aren't quite simpatico.

I know I need to use this outlet again. So much has happened since I last felt serious about blogging that I couldn't possibly update or get back on track, but I do miss this source of reflection and I know I'll kick myself in 5 years if I don't get back at it. Let's see if I can stick to it!

Needle Felting Fairies & Mermaids

My parents constantly act shocked that I aspire to add new, wacky crafts to my list of pleasures, and I'm sure this one tops their list of least likely things they ever would have imagined I'd want to do as an adult. But, there you go. I guess we can't always see the future for our children.

Ella's kindergarten teacher organized an event a few months back for all her class parents to meet the school's handwork teacher. As you might expect, only the moms showed up, but we had such a nice time sitting around gossiping together. The handwork teacher, Miss Laurie, set up the room with foam blocks and felting needles, walked us through the steps to make a basic doll and then let us loose to do with it what we would. I decided to add some wings and make a little 'fairy mother' for Ella, and it has since been one of her prize possessions. The next day, she and I sat down and used some leftover wool to make the little babies she's holding, and Ella was pretty thrilled to pick up a needle and start stabbing away.

We're doing a fund raiser for Ella's class next month, and I tried to get some of the interested moms together to make some little needle-felted crafts to sell. It ended up being a bust, but now I have all the supplies for myself! I worked on this new fairy mother doll and her babes (this time with little wings!), and I'll try my best to part with her. How much do you think I should charge? $25? Is that too much? Too little? I really have no idea what something like this would sell for...

With all my leftover supplies, I've decided to make Ella a little mer-family for her upcoming birthday. I've got the mama mermaid in the works and am on the lookout for some miniature shells to cover her fluffy chest. I think she needs a big, strong merman and a daughter and maybe a merbaby too. I'll take more pictures as they come together...

Brooke's Lova is Here!

The lovely and amazing Brooke, goddess and birth warrior, is finally holding her new baby girl, in her arms!

Go check out her mom's sweet summary and picture!

It Must be in the Air

Springtime in Sonoma county is blissful: cool mornings, sunny afternoons and everyone itching to spend the whole day outside. After "quiet time" the other day, we went over to our friends' cul-de-sac for a little bicycle action on the street. When I told Ella our plans, she smiled brightly, with so much generosity in her voice and said, "Oh, those guys are so lucky to live on such a nice street!" Incidentally, we live on a highway.

With the sun still warming us low in the sky, the kids raced back and forth down the street and then spent a good hour playing with the gravel in my friend's front yard. They buried each other in it and filled their tucked-in t-shirts until they looked pregnant and chubby. They were hysterical with giggles and filthy with dust, and the whole scene was just one of those perfect life moments. Nothing special, just a simple, satisfying afternoon.

After the children had completely stretched out their t-shirts with rocks, Ella asked one the of the neighbor boys if he was going to tell his mom about his ruined shirt when he got home. He was balancing on his bike, standing still, when he slowly put his feet on the ground and said, "I don't have a mom." Not quite grasping the gravity in his voice, or maybe she did, Ella responded, "Oh, do you have two daddies?"

Witnessing their interaction from afar, I smiled at her modern assumption and then my heart just broke as he told her that his mother had died four years ago. He just has a dad now, he said. And a grandma. And a kid brother. Only a few seconds passed when they all shrugged it off and went back at it on their bikes, but I'm not so easily distracted.

We seem to be surrounded with breaking families lately. Two of Ella's close school friends' parents are going through difficult divorces (is that redundant?), and another is clearly on the brink. Then we learned that our neighbors/friends are splitting up and moving (separately) across town. On top of all that, a few weeks ago and out of the blue as far as I was concerned, my sister-in-law practically arrived on our doorstep after fleeing the state to escape her husband of 24 years. He had some kind of breakdown, and she had to get a year-long restraining order against him. What is going on, people? Is it something about that pesky Mercury in retrograde? Maybe I'm just finally old enough for all of my friends' marriages to start becoming part of the national stat? It's so depressing.

Despite all of that swirling around us, our life continues to improve and look brighter every day. New, and potentially very rewarding, opportunities are presenting themselves left and right, and Matt is beside himself with plans (and work). He's so excited and pleased and gracious that even his constant distraction with work isn't irritating me the way it has in the past. Finally having a light at the end of this long new business tunnel is definitely improving my patience with his workaholism.

Back to yesterday, after we'd said our goodbyes and packed up her bicycle, I stealthily encouraged Ella to tell me about her conversation with the neighbor boy, pretending I didn't know about his mother. She seemed to take it in stride—very matter-of-fact. Somehow that conversation segued in her mind to her neighbor friend's new living situation, and Ella said, "I wish you and daddy lived in separate houses, like S's parents, because then I would have two houses." I guess S's parents have pitched their separation to their kid as a fun new adventure, worthy of 5 year old envy. I told her that we're all happy living together, but it's nice that S is excited about her daddy's new house. Then she asked if she could have a cookie when we got home.

Apparently all this  it's not screwing with her nearly as much as it is with me!

Lacy the Little One

The school year is well underway, and Ella seems to be growing up before my very eyes. Kindergarten: it's so full of purity and innocence and an eagerness to explore. Her class and teacher and school have defied my wildest hopes, and she is just blossoming and loving every single moment. She wakes up excited for her day, and can't wait to get to school and see all her new friends. It's really a beautiful thing.

I'm not sure if all Waldorf Kindergartens talk about Fairy Mother and the Little Ones, but all the schools in this town do (did I mention we moved to Waldorf Mecca--there are three schools in our tiny 8,000-person town). At the beginning of the school year, we had a parent meeting, which was such a lovely evening, and Ella's new teacher told us that the kindergarten children learn about Fairy Mother, the matriarch of all the fairies and protector of the Little Ones, which are small dolls that come to join each child. The teacher and her assistant handcraft these dolls for each of the children, after they've gotten to know them a bit, and she told us about the special bond created with these unique dolls.

Fairy Mother escorts one or two Little Ones at a time into the classroom during the first two months of school, and every day the children are beside themselves with anticipation. At first, they might happen upon one of the Little Ones in the teapot or hiding on the Nature Table, but as more and more of them arrive, the kids begin to practically ransack the room each morning hoping to find one.

Ella's was one of the last dolls to arrive. Sometimes the Little Ones who have already come bring messages from Fairy Mother, and on Monday, Jack's Little One told the teacher that Ella's would be coming on Soup Day (a.k.a. Wednesday). And, he also informed everyone that her name was Lacy. Up until that point, Ella was engaged in Little One Madness, but she didn't seem terribly eager for her doll to come. But on Monday when she told me the news after school, there was a fire behind her eyes and I could feel her burning with anticipation. By the next morning, it was all she could talk about, and by Tuesday night, she could barely sleep. Lacy, Lacy, Lacy.

She woke up so early on Soup Day that the wait to go to school must have felt interminable. We ate french toast as a family, and she told us about how Lacy had visited her dreams. We searched her drawers for clothes with lace, and she seemed more than satisfied with our paltry findings. As I was getting things together to leave, I found her snuggled up on a chair with Tozai staring off into space. When I got her attention, she said, "Mommy, I can't think of anything but Lacy!"

Wednesday is our day to pick up a classmate on the way to school, and when Ella's friend climbed in the car she said, "Ella, I'm so excited. I couldn't even fall asleep last night!" I threw her dad a questioning look, and he chimed in, "I hear your Little One is coming today, Ella." How sweet is that?

At school, the girls raced in to get their indoor shoes on and dashed into the classroom. I gave the teacher a worried look and said, "Ella tells me her Little One is coming today...?" I was so relieved when she smiled knowingly and invited me to have a seat. About six kids gathered around Ella and offered to help her search. They held hands and walked around the room searching together. In the cubbies. On the bookshelf. In the 'cabin corner'. In the kitchen. On the art table. More children joined in as they arrived.

Finally, one of the girls said, "Let's ask for a clue!" and she immediately ran to the doll house to get her Little One and carry it over to the teacher. Holding the doll up to her ear, the teacher nodded, pretending to hear a secret message and said, "Red and white with a hat that's bright." The children all turned to each other and repeated it like a mantra, and then they agreed to split up and look again. After another few minutes, they asked for another clue. "Candle, candle shining bright."

That was it. They all raced for the candle table, and one of the boys gingerly picked up Ella's waiting Little One and carefully held it above his head for all to see. Then he handed it to Ella, and they all gathered around to meet the new doll. The pure innocence of this scene took my breath away. These kids all believe, wholeheartedly, that a fairy brought them their Little Ones, that these dolls chose them somehow. And their generosity and kindness and reverence, it was just so... Words don't do the moment justice.

Furry, Clumsy, Delicious

After a year of mourning the loss of Ernest and before him our old Siamese cat Ricker, we finally gave in to Ella's demands for a kitten. About a month ago, Ella and I had a special date; just the two of us out for Chinese food and a visit to the pet store while Matt was off doing this or that. As we slowly explored all the tiny cages in the store and I explained my feelings about birds in cages and fish in tanks (not a fan), Ella grew more and more restless. When we came to the kitty cages, where three little rolly-polly kittens were snuggling together in a hammock of sorts, Ella just lost it. "Oh please, oh please, oh please Mama." I explained that our landlords don't want us to have a cat in their house, and she was absolutely devastated. She cried for almost an hour that night, not because she thought she could get her way with a few tears. She was just genuinely sad that it wasn't going to happen.

Fast forward a few days and a few more tears, and Matt started to get an itch too. The three of us began daydreaming on Craigslist and even among the online photos from a rescue shelter specifically for Siamese, and before I knew it Matt was on the phone convincing our landlord to let us have a cat. Horray!

After starting down the road with the shelter (that insists on letters of recommendation, a letter from your landlord, an application, a questionnaire and an interview!), an ad popped up on Craigslist Monday for a few 8-week old kittens, one of them with Siamese markings. When I called to tell Matt, he was just leaving Canada, where he had been on business for the past week, and was driving back to Seattle in the hopes of catching a flight back into San Francisco that night. Such was our enthusiasm, he agreed to stop on the way home (at 10pm no less) to check out the kitten, and a few hours later he arrived with this cute, docile, lovable little girl.

She has taken to her new home amazingly quickly: no crying, no long bouts of hiding, no litterbox issues. She's smart as all get-out and so, so sweet. After this picture was taken, she rested her head on my arm and fell dead-asleep for almost an hour.

Ella is beside herself. She can barely function. It's wonderful. I had forgotten how important it is to have little creatures in my house.

We named her Tozai, after the sushi restaurant across from our house. Shortly after we moved here, we started eating there regularly, and one night we fortuitously met our (now) closest friends in town who happened to be seated at the table next to us. Now when people ask us how we met, we tell them that they picked us up at Sushi Tozai. It's a special place for us, and it's the perfect name for this little kitty.

Reflection of an Intruder

I toss over, barely awake, one eye on the blue glow of the clock. 3:30. Matt is softly snoring, and I have to pee. Can I just go back to sleep and ignore it? Not this time. I slowly trudge around the bed toward the hallway, shivering with the cool night air on my naked skin. Wait, what? Someone tall and dark is walking out of the bathroom. He's coming right towards me. My mouth doesn't even open as it lets out a blood curdling guttural scream. As the sound escapes my lips, I realize the door is closed. It's just my reflection in the full-length mirror. It's too late. Matt bolts out of bed, on full-body alert, and I just crumble toward him, feeling embarrassed and totally wiped out. Every vein is pulsing as Matt hugs me and says, "I know what just happened... Yeah... It's scary." Thank god I didn't pee all over the floor.

After pulling myself together enough to finish what I started and get back in bed, I lie awake trying to remember when I last felt so scared. I can't think of anything.

Fame-ous Party

Our post-child New Year's Eves have been, as one might imagine, completely boring and anti-climactic. Last year, I took Ella to a party that celebrated 'East Coast' time, which was a clever way to include children in the festivities, but I still longed for the days when celebrating New Year's involved a cocktail and a party dress, maybe even a pair of high-heels.

Shortly after we moved and met our friends Justin & Rachel, they started talking up their New Year's Eve party. They hosted one last year, to much success, and planned to do it again and 'we'd better be there, or else.' I think that was in June. That's when I started looking forward to December 31st.

So before the holidays, when we finally decided that Ella and I were off to Hawaii again, I drew the line at not being home for New Year's. I wasn't going to miss a real, grown up, bona-fide party. No way, no how. Much to my surprise, Matt agreed wholeheartedly. It's a testament to how much he likes Rachel and Justin, I believe, that he would plan anything (especially airplane travel) around a party. He's not nearly as silly as I am.

Next up: finding a babysitter. Sitters have been the New Year's conundrum, aside from Matt's ambivalence about the occasion, ever since Ella was born. No one I know wants to babysit on the one holiday that's all about partying. No one except Grandma. Bingo.

Naturally, when we broke the news to Matt's mom that we would be backing out of Christmas at her house, she was seriously bummed and wanted us to make it up to her. No problem. She got to keep Ella for a few days after we returned to California, and we got a free babysitter for New Year's Eve. Ella was happy. Grandma was happy. And we made it to a real-live, grown-up affair.

We danced (yes, even Matt). We drank cocktails (mine for the night were Blue Sapphire & Tonics), complete with Amaretto-drenched cherries and lemon twists. We scrounged for adult-pinata goods. We even sang karaoke (in this case, especially Matt). And that's where things get a little hazy.

It was later reported to me that I worried my friend Lia when I abruptly got up and left her singing solo on our duet to Fame. Oops. Apparently she thought I didn't like the way she was doing it, but I'm positive that wasn't the case. Who knows what the hell I was thinking, but I'm sure it had more to do with my intoxication than her voice, which according to Matt is very nice. I also learned that I embarrassed him to no end while he was singing when I kept saying, "Doesn't he sound good? Guys? Isn't he doing great? Everybody! Listen! Isn't Matt the BEST!" Yeah, I get a little overzealous... My face is turning red just thinking about it.

Anyway, it was an awesome party. I'm already looking forward to next year.

Music History

The other day, Ella and I were clicking around on the iTunes Music Store, listening to clips of holiday songs. She loves hearing different renditions of the same song, and while on a mission to track down as many versions of Jingle Bells as we could, Ella fell in love with "Here Comes Santa Claus". We must have heard it 50 different ways, including a very strange rendition compiled from cat meows by a group called The Jingle Cats. In our endless search, we happened to click on the Andy Williams album I grew up listening to around Christmas.

So, I told her, "Ella, this is the Christmas album I always listened to when I was a little girl."

"You mean, with your mommy on her computer?"

My how times have changed...