charming gardener

birthday eve

2012-01-29T20:37:00.001Z

photo from http://abeautifulmessinside.com

Tomorrow I am 44. Forty-Four.
It has a nice, even, symmetrical quality about it, even if it is a number that feels a bit too big and a bit too foreign. In my mind, I think about 38 is right.
Even more so, since I am now 21 weeks pregnant with a baby girl child.
Being 44 and half-way there to birth is far more knackering that it was at 41.
I am tired and not so very patient. Makes me want to take a bit of stock on just what and where I am today on my birthday eve.

I am:

~~pregnant~~
~~almost 44~~
OK, we covered that
~~tired~~
ditto
often blank of mind when I have 10 minutes of quiet
in love with my bed
illogically laundry obsessed
disinterested in most current affairs
nervous if I don't have both a book to read and a book to listen to
eating much cheese
scared to drive our newly acquired car (I haven't driven in the UK since the DAY of my test. In 2006. Hello)
worried about having 2 children drain my waning energies
worried that child 1 will be sad not to have his mum all to himself
worried that I have no recall on how to care for actual baby
realising this list is not as whimsical and light as I imagined it
trying now to think of really positive things
blank of mind

OK. Let me try something else ... here's what I want for my 44th year

endurance
patience
flexibility
light-heartedness
giggles
family hugs
embracing change
ever expanding love supply for all my important people including myself
financial stability
ability to find the silly
be the best mother, partner, daughter and friend I can be
appreciate the many magical tiny moments I have each day
one eye on the horizon so I can picture where we are going and start to get excited about being there
gratitude for the ways which I know, I already have all of those things

greatest hits 2011

2011-12-31T15:56:00.000Z

thank you 2011...

fitflop slippers
eternity scarf
daddy pig
the good wife
part time nursery
bbc radio 4 extra
blakley fit eddie bauer trousers
curly wispy lewis hair
goodreads.com
FJF tribute to quiet hero
motherhood friends
audible.com
babychinos
expecting baby number 2
family, nuclear, extended and inherited
full conversations with Lewis
owning a car
perfect pancake pans
staying

two

2011-10-20T16:36:00.000+01:00

I am having a really good birthday.
Celebrating the day of the birth of boy, that is.

Simple day: his parents, grandma, home made pizza, grandma- made white cake with chocolate frosting, red balance bike, red balloons (and a giant somewhat scary mylar "2" balloon) cards, books, digger wellies, car garage, playdoh, singing the happy birthday song AND blowing out the candle 5 times, and enough adorable clothes to make his mom happy. Enthusiastic opener, polite and equal attention to all (except the clothes). Time and the park, time at home.

And best gift of all is that all, he is napping. RIGHT NOW!

Happy Birthday, all of us.

brave new look

2011-09-29T12:16:00.000+01:00

or just lipstick on the pig?

Here I sit. A blessed Thursday of nursery for L, work for husband and no clients for me. The list of things to do is as tall as me. Time, particularly the solo variety, she is rare and she is precious. So what have I done? Spent 2 hours monkeying about with my blog template. (whaddaya think?)

I have been enraptured by the parenting blog brigade lately -- with really insightful and smart posts. They are prolific. Posting near daily. New things to say. They all have nifty bespoke headers, copyrights, and all seem to be well connected to each other, with squillions of followers. How do they have time for this? Do they not sleep or need to watch all their DVRed shows? Do they have children who sleep in their own beds? Do they not need to shower at night? Do they not obsess about the laundry?

Now this little blog, born in 2004 never set out to be more than an online account of what new groceries I found in the UK or the fancy accents I was hearing and feeling cool about being an expat. And it has morphed, along with the rest of my life into coaching, marriage, moving, pregnancy and now parenting. I want the look to morph too!

I envy those fancy blogger people with their links to their facebook pages and smart subscriptions and fresh, new things to say.

Today I changed the look (thank you people of blogger). Today I change the sheets.

Tomorrow may I be fresh. Tomorrow, may I be insightful. Tomorrow, may I be smart.

pause: 22 months and 3 days

2011-08-24T14:28:00.000+01:00

sweetie grin

Almost two years old and it just gets more interesting. It is so nice to be able to have a conversation (of sorts) and make each other giggle. Our boy is outgoing, strong, remembers the weirdest (and forgettable) incidents for a long time, like buying a new broom or seeing a dog swim in the river. Remembers people he's met and says bye bye to the taxi, the house, the cat on the street or the checkout lady at Tesco. He can cling to my apron (literally) or run off with to the swings without a second glance, depending on mood. He gets car sick after 15 minutes, loves to push his own pram, and still has the prettiest blue eyes.

understands pretty much everything you say, possibly ~~I am sure~~ even the swear words
comfortable chatting away: favourite words ''tiny', 'winnow' (window), 'oh dear' and 'wow' and 'what's daddy doin?', 'lewie do it" and 'home' and noo neeee (for fire truck noise)
loves diggers, dirt, water (drinking and pouring) swimming, books with diggers, Peppa Pig (daddy pig especially), throwing balls, climbing (especially ladders), spinning things, his friends Kit and Jamie, splashing in puddles in his boots, sticky tape, going to the cafe in the park, and blowing raspberries on mummy's tummy
before going to sleep, recounts highlights of his day to himself, processing people he has seen, the story lines of Peppa Pig, particularly exciting trucks or events like mommy breaking a cup.
likes to choose his clothes and is very particular about his shoes
loves dried apricots, cheese, toast, peas (frozen and cooked), sausage, noodles, ice cream, apples cooked in butter with cinnamon and brown sugar
fights naps and bedtime sleeping and loves cuddling
pushes kids big or small when he is tired or frustrated (we are working on this!)
is very attached to his parents, his pram and his little man cap
very much wants a bike or a scooter (shhhh- 2 year bday is coming!)

While they say it doesn't get easier, after spending the morning with 2 friends who have 2- year olds AND 6-7-week old babies, it sure feels easier than that. I need to relish Lewis walking up the stairs, pulling off his own socks and having an opinion about what's for snack. His smallest independences are all victories. We are still learning so much together. Parenting is getting more fun and more rewarding (like the requests for "hand mummy"), I realise the stakes are getting higher. He is a squirmy, adventurous, curious boy. Keeping him safe and letting him explore are proving a tricky act to balance.

May I continue to be the best parent I can be and may Lewis forget the swear words, or at least use them only at home.

our quiet hero, now rest

2011-08-19T11:18:00.000+01:00

My Dad died a few weeks ago on 27 July. He had a rough few years with his health, battling (and winning) lung cancer and heart surgery, with long, hard won recoveries. He recovered enough to enjoy a bit of this summer, taking a coach trip with the Korean War veterans to Washington DC, seeing a few local baseball games with my Mom, riding his bike, eating McDonald's ice cream cones. But it was an infection from his surgery that got him in the end. He died in no pain, with no mental anguish, with my Mom, 2 of my siblings and the nicest nurse with him.

I am fresh back from my visit home to say my final good bye to my Dad at his funeral. It was a hard, loving, emotional visit that had flashes of normalcy and many sweet laughs as Lewis entertained and provided a tender elixir to the heaviness of the days.

Along with my Uncle Dave and a fellow Gray Beard, Korean War veteran friend, all of my brothers and sisters and I spoke at my Dad's service. The service was fitting to the man, simple, lovely with a military respect of the 21 gun salute and buried in his favourite green fleece. It was an honour to speak of my Dad and I share my words here.

We have heard so many themes today about Frank, solid, loyal, kind, dependable and fun.

Until now I haven’t realised what a quiet force my Dad was. He was often in the background but he was always there ... steady, strong, available.

In my job, I often ask people what they want people to remember them for.

I can’t help but think Dad would be so happy and proud to hear that his small and large kindnesses, his friendly and warm company and his steadfast presence made us all of feel loved, safe and taken care of.

And I don’t think I ever got to thank him for that.

So now I take my moment to say thank you, Dad.

- For being the man that drove me to endless tumbling and random events all my childhood, with Sports Talk on the radio
- For being the best looking Dad in the pack
- For always smelling like clean aftershave
- Magically changing all my crumpled singles and big pile of change waitress tips into nice, clean 20s
- For wearing his kid’s logo wear with pride, or at least making us feel like he was proud.
- Playing with my fingers in church when I was little
- For being the man who documented things like the date we got a new toilet seat
- And taking pictures of things on TV
- For showing me that being a dad often means eating burnt toast and the black jellybeans
- Having the perfect architectural penmanship
- Hiding $50 bills at my house, for me to find later
- With limited success, trying to teaching me and Gary to bowl – shake hands with the ball
- Showing me that arguing bitterly with you spouse over Christmas tree lights is an annual event that your marriage will survive
- For forever cementing that lunchboxes should always smell of bananas
- For walking me down the aisle at my wedding
- For making me feel safe
- Driving us home from the lake and feeling so utterly secure that we always fell asleep that 45 minutes
- Insisting on filling up gas in your car
- Hearing Mom and Dad’s low murmur voices in bed talking at night
- Warming up the car and scraping off the snow for you on cold mornings
- For being there when Lewis was born … 16 days late, and being the first person to call Lewis “sweetheart”
- For the example of hard work -- like the rings he made for all his kids and for Mom, taking silver dollar coins and painstakingly pounding them into simple, string silver rings… much like Dad himself.

I know Dad was always so happy when he and Mom were on their annual vacations in Florida. He would go for long solo walks on the beach, in search of sharks teeth, sand dollars, and maybe a bit of chat with other folks he’d meet along the way, collecting scraps of information to report back to Mom. He was tanned, happy, relaxed and utterly in his element...

I like to imagine he is on one of those adventures now – enjoying the view, collecting unexpected treasures, and forever basking in a beautiful sunny day.

So now we are all back at our respective homes. Back in the business of living. People have been heart-breakingly kind. Death does that. It shows our underbelly and our collective circles of friends and even acquaintances rally to hold our net. Makes us feel very very human and very alive in our pain. Now we are all sorting this through and feeling the soft spot where my Dad lived in each of us. Feeling lucky to have had him in a way we never acknowledged before. Feeling just that much closer to each other than before. Feeling what's missing and holding on to what's not.

Our quiet hero, my Mom's rock ... now rest.

good bye dear friend

2011-07-13T13:14:00.000+01:00

Dear bed,

I think you may as well know. We are getting a new bed tomorrow. I am truly excited. A Superking (which is a normal King in the US). It will be HUGE. I look forward to the acres of space for all the sleeping beings in there. I look forward to a fresh mattress. New sheets. Yum.

And yet, yes, I am sad. I have always thought one of the most depressing sights was seeing a discarded mattress on the side of the road, awaiting the garbage men. No doubt that mattress was the refuge of many wonderful nights of sleep, love, tears, conception, naps, cuddles, piles of clothes, and comfort. Seems so wrong to discard it all naked and stained to the world's cruel view.

We got you when you were going to be just "Mark's bed" in 2002 in Washington DC. I remember helping pick you out in the shop, feeling very grown up and proud that I was being consulted for such an intimate purchase. I was the girlfriend and it gave me peace to think I could contribute my opinion on such a long term item. I remember thinking you were worth every penny for your pillow-top dreaminess.

Who knew that 9 years later I would be saying good bye to you after making you my own.

I have always loved you and felt you were a safe and welcoming place I could hide, dream, escape and unwind. You've earned your retirement. You sag. You've been subjected to all manner of new stains and indignities thanks to a new family member. And, bed, don't take this the wrong way, but you may have bugs.

We had some good times. You've seen us through 5 moves in 3 countries and never let us down.

Thank you for being such a good resting place. And don't worry, the nice men who are bringing your replacement to us will wrap you up and take you to your final sleep.

Night night.

the great unsaid

2011-07-12T15:07:00.001+01:00

for sale at cafepress.com

I just read this on Honest 2 Betsy's blog -- "This isn`t an everyday blog. It`s not even an every week blog. It`s a when-I-have-something-to say blog."

Well said. I feel very much like that. And I guess the things I have to say have been said in my head. Are they blog worthy?

Such as:

-How cute is my boy, who is starting to use two words together like "tiny spoon" and "mommy, in"
- This weather sucks. May and June were 100% dismal. Gray, raining and cold. Even I, who hate the heat, was grumpy.
- I need a new look. My style is slowly disintegrating from new mum dishevel into toddler mum frump.
- We need to get a plan. We have an income. And it is not ideal. We need to pull up our socks and get ready to make our changes happen. Life awaits and we are both sick of the holding pattern.

So, some items noteworthy, some trivial and many, many days of laundering, errands, toddler enertainment, trips to the park, big coffees to go, picking up small cars off all surfaces, making breakfasts, lunches, dinners and snacks for 2 males in my home.

Mombie mode is a murky gerbil tunnel. Occasionally you get a glimpse of the outside world, but then you remember that you need to get home for naptime. Maybe even yours.

why the playground scares me

2011-06-10T14:02:00.000+01:00

I'll be the first to admit it. I am impressionable. If someone I like and respect tells me something or points out something to me I hadn't seen before, the seed is well and truly planted.

My grip in my parenting is often wobbly. I am finding scores of really interesting blogs and reads about kinds of parenting, ways to be positive, be connected, stay calm, be an example, etc. It is just the kind of reading that hooks me and also frees me. Gives a bit of direction to point my sorry ass self in when I am stuck with my own temper or cluelessness about how to best help Lew.

(Here's just a few I am particularly obsessive about consulting)

So I read these and I feel good. I feel like I have some ways to "be" and a bit of extra confidence that I am doing OK by my boy and not totally screwing him up yet. We are happy, we are connected, we are making it!

And then we go to the playground. The playground in the park near our house is really designed for bigger kids, but tell that to sweet Lewis, who has been conquering the big steps and big slide since he was 1. It is fun it a little daunting to let him explore and play, albeit with a sharp eye, possible hovering and lots of "carefuls". He loves being around other kids and part of the "scene."

Here's where I go tense and want to leave:

... the big kids come. 3-5 year olds are HUGE. They are STRONG. And FAST. And truly are not yet wired to care about a toddler's feelings ("Go away" "Stop following us" or ignoring small Lew's wave hello) or well being as they zip by him or knock him over. So that gets me. I don't expect little kids to get it. I do expect their parents to be 1% watching though. And so often they just aren't paying a lick of attention.

... I also sometimes see parents treating their kids in a very different way than I want to treat mine. Not listening. Bullying. Not watching. Ignoring. My stomach knots. I know know know that I do not have the answers and everyone deals in their own way. My parenting instincts are mine -- I get that. It is just very hard to witness upset kids being ignored. Here I am full frontal faced with my fears of bad parenting. And. I. Must. Flee.

I sometimes think Lewis and I need this cocoon of time together for me to get better and clearer about what kind of parent I want to be. My impressionable side at this point simply cannot watch parenting behaviour that I do not want to copy.

I do not want to judge any parents. I don't WANT to be judged. It is a serious job and we are all in our own boat. And yet I find that my incredibly helpful resources (see above) direct me in such a different way.

Until I can start to look at other families with more compassion, and be more rooted in my own gentle parenting, and Lewis can get up those slide stairs on his own, I think you'll see us at the playground only during the quiet hours.

Hopefully I'll be listening to Lewis, letting him play without too much direction, helping when he needs it, watching him, giving lots of love and we'll be walking home holding hands.

for my next act

2011-06-03T14:39:00.000+01:00

I feel like I should be ready for something. Note the *should* in there. Never a good sign.

Much of me thinks the next thing is another baby. Body= ready. Husband= ready. Brain= ready. Age=hurrythehellup.

But at 43 (gulp) things are not instant. And what to do with my few available waking energies and fleeting moments. I know I can make laundry obsess-er, meal planner, nap police and supply manager a near full-time job. While is it not entirely 'un' satisfying, the bloom is nearing its peak on household running.

I don't have much energy to do anything very time consuming or brain taxing.

Mostly, I find in the few spare minutes to myself, I want very much to read. And then very much to sleep. And possibly have some time to stare at the TV with sole control of the remote. The end. That feels almost enough right now. Yet, I judge.

Coach? Surely I could be using my nice coaching abilities to reach out, do more get more clients, learn more things.

Exercise? I see new-ish moms in the park, running in a pack with their prams all a jiggle, encouraged from a skinny guy wearing shorts and asking for "10 more" push ups. A real workout? (Besides the 54 stairs I carry a 26 pound boy up thrice daily.)

Clean? Well, that seems much more like home-making again. And really.

Write? My pal Lexie always has something new up her sleeve and has written a little book. I am envious of her enthusiasm and determination. I'd love to write something more substantial then the 5 items needed at Sainsburys on tiny scraps of paper.

It all seems a bit daunting. Just going into town on my own feels a little like I am visiting a foreign land. I am not sure I am really ready for any big changes. Except the kind that take 9 months to cook.

My next act.

I know there is one. I just don't know what it is. I hope it is something really interesting and compels me and calls me forward to be brave and stand tall and feel alive and do my best. I hope it involves a costume change or two. I hope it emerges slowly and when I am ready.

But in the meanwhile, this intermission feels important. Now I just wish they'd quit yelling at me to take my feet off the seats.

ode to Fridays

2011-05-27T11:16:00.001+01:00

a slow, unfocused walk
closing my eyes for whole moments
entering the inner world of my clients and being in someone else's shoes for a while
walking up and down each aisle, giving my full consideration to the vegetables
noticing the faces as I pass by unencumbered and on my own
the loose end jobs tied
contemplating the state of my fingernails and my wardrobe

another cup of tea
home in peaceful order
7 hours of being just me

19 (really??) months

2011-05-20T14:54:00.001+01:00

Lewie loving Lambie

Alas, I look up and notice the time.
About a month since I last blogged.
About a minute since I did my last load of laundry.
And a million seconds of L's everyday getting bigger.

Today, my sweet sausage is 19 months.
Closer to two years than to one.
He is a boy.
A mama loving, dadddieee playing, wheel-obsessed, charming small person. He knows who he is and says no when he doesn't want something. Although he still says it so sweet (noo noo) that the novelty hasn't worn off.

He discovered the love for stuffed animals lately, which melts my own personal heart into a quivering sop. He kisses them, he feeds them (hello gross, stained furry mouths) and he gives them tight cuddles. Right or wrongly, I feel a certain pride that he may have learned how to treat his fuzzy pals in a gentle way, hopefully because we treat him that way.

It is a reminder that we are his models for human behaviour. How to manage not getting our way, how to be when we are tired, how to treat each other, how to take care of ourselves and how to interact with the world.

I must say I am enjoying this part of parenting way more then the wordless babe stage. Now we communicate and we share and truly *do* things together. I feel and see the impact.

It is tender and hard and lovely and scary.
He sees us.
He is listening.
And is waving hello to make friends on the playground. And kissing boo boos - mine and his own. And throwing things when he is angry. And melts into a fury when he is tired.
Oh yes, he is watching.
He is holding up a giant mirror showing me how I am.
What a powerful little mirror.
Hope I can keep seeing sweetness and be brave enough to change for both of us when I don't

living in the now

2011-04-24T13:20:00.000+01:00

And here I am ... back. I have been holding my tongue and my breath for a while now. Scared to write what was happening since I was working over time to not think too hard about it. And inevitably, if I open a blank blog page, the truth is sure to flop out.

It looks like we are going to be in Glasgow for the summer. After much hand -ringing, hallway-pacing, excel spread-sheeting, scenario list-making, nail-chewing and general fretting, my dear husband has landed a contract job for the summer.

Insert GIANT sigh of relief here.

Yes, this is a short-term solution. Yes, we still need to figure out what happens, erm, AFTER summer.

And yet, that, is not now.

Now I can buy flour, baking powder, mustard and peppercorns... things I have been holding off on since a move may have been imminent. (No one ever can find a way to move a half empty jar of mustard across international lines.)

Now I can get my summer clothes out of storage. (Naturally only to look at since it is only about 55F here but a girl can dream.)

Now we can keep L in nursery for his 2 ~~life-saving~~, child-enriching days a week.

Now we can hire a babysitter so we can celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary along with Kate & Will's wedding on April 29. (yes, they copied us.)

Now I can plan a long overdue trip to the US to see my parents and other mid-westerners.

Now we can enjoy the parks and the flowers and take advantage of the lightness and the warmth and enjoy. (a.k.a. chase Lew as he runs amok throwing gravel or trying to lick wheels, pet strange dogs.)

Now I can make a hair appointment to recreate something that resembles a *hair-style* rather than the multi-coloured, straggly ponytail.

Now we can plan, really plan, what our next step is.

Three months isn't all that long, really.

But to me, to us, for now

It is everything.

the beginning, the middle and the end

2011-04-01T15:19:00.000+01:00

Things are changing in my life.

Some faster than I can track, some achingly slow and some that are just hovering, waiting to land.

Not all of it feels comfortable to write out loud yet. Even in my own head.

And it made me think of this beautiful poem, Aristotle, by Billy Collins.

This is the beginning.

Almost anything can happen.

This is where you find

the creation of light, a fish wriggling onto land,

the first word of Paradise Lost on an empty page.

Think of an egg, the letter A,

a woman ironing on a bare stage

as the heavy curtain rises.

This is the very beginning.

The first-person narrator introduces hirnself,

tells us about his lineage.

The mezzo-soprano stands in the wings.

Here the climbers are studying a map

or pulling on their long woolen socks.

This is early on, years before the Ark, dawn.

The profile of an animal is being smeared

on the wall of a cave,

and you have not yet learned to crawl.

This is the opening, the gambit,

a pawn moving forward an inch.

This is your first night with her,

your first night without her.

This is the first part

where the wheels begin to turn,

where the elevator begins its ascent,

before the doors lurch apart.

This is the middle.

Things have had time to get complicated,

messy, really. Nothing is simple anymore.

Cities have sprouted up along the rivers

teeming with people at cross-purposes—

a million schemes, a million wild looks.

Disappointment unshoulders his knapsack

here and pitches his ragged tent.

This is the sticky part where the plot congeals,

where the action suddenly reverses

or swerves off in an outrageous direction.

Here the narrator devotes a long paragraph

to why Miriam does not want Edward's child.

Someone hides a letter under a pillow.

Here the aria rises to a pitch,

a song of betrayal, salted with revenge.

And the climbing party is stuck on a ledge

halfway up the mountain.

This is the bridge, the painful modulation.

This is the thick of things.

So much is crowded into the middle—

the guitars of Spain, piles of ripe avocados,

Russian uniforms, noisy parties,

lakeside kisses, arguments heard through a wall—

too much to name, too much to think about.

And this is the end,

the car running out of road,

the river losing its name in an ocean,

the long nose of the photographed horse

touching the white electronic line.

This is the colophon, the last elephant in the parade,

the empty wheelchair,

and pigeons floating down in the evening.

Here the stage is littered with bodies,

the narrator leads the characters to their cells,

and the climbers are in their graves.

It is me hitting the period

and you closing the book.

It is Sylvia Plath in the kitchen

and St. Clement with an anchor around his neck.

This is the final bit

thinning away to nothing.

This is the end, according to Aristotle,

what we have all been waiting for,

what everything comes down to,

the destination we cannot help imagining,

a streak of light in the sky,

a hat on a peg, and outside the cabin, falling leaves.

I think we're alone now

2011-03-24T13:51:00.000Z

This is desktop wallpaper called, Quiet, Still, Alone.

I guess this day was bound to happen.

Mark away for the day.
Lewis at nursery.
Me ~~freaking hallelujah~~ on my own on a day during the week, with no clients.

It is a day I have fantasised about.
Often.
No one to pay attention to except me. No nap schedule except my own. I could have on loudest music or be ensconced in calm silence. I could go see a matinee. Or wander aimlessly. Or walk with purpose and intent to get somewhere. Somewhere NEW! Somewhere that babies aren't allowed. OR I could read! Or think clever thoughts. Call friends. Do some marketing for coaching. Take a water wastingly long, hot shower.

It is now 1:30 in the afternoon.

No long leisurely shower. (OK any shower for that fact)

No smart thoughts about anything.

No dancing in my underwear a la Risky Business.

I dropped off the boy and ...

I have eaten nachos.

I have washed and folded 3 loads of laundry.

I have emptied the dishwasher and all the garbages.

I have organized the recyclables.

I managed a Sainsbury delivery.

I changed the sheets.

And I have cleaned the flat.

And now, I think ... I don't know what do.

There is only a little bit more free time. It is fleeting. And going fast.

This is what happens, I think, to mothers. First reaction is to do the normal things.

And do them in peace. And fast. And with concentration. Alone. Blissfully.

It feels so relaxing to be alone. To take one's eyes off the ball (or kid as it were) and just let the mind flop a bit.

Is this the new dream? To be silent in my brain? Those other things sure sound nice. And what feels even nicer is to know those things are still out there.

I just think I'd need several weeks of this quiet to remember how.

going under

2011-03-12T14:42:00.000Z

Friday's note from the Universe told me that wisdom arrives in silence.

Silent is what I have been feeling lately. Not that I have nothing to say. But more that my words go in circles. I find myself at a weird juncture, causing me to walk carefully without attachment to my current situation.

Looks like dear husband's job really really going to end soon and we are now looking at some rather dramatic options to our next step. Rent out our (lovely, big, perfect) flat and go live somewhere for as free as possible. In Laws. And await a job. And decide if the US is that next place to be.

This level of Get Ready to Jump is putting my running our household/laundry doing/house stocking/cleaning/care taking//friendship nurturing /social outreach right into a state of emergency. And then ultimately a state of unattachment.

Do I have to let go of *this* in order to reach what's next? How tight is my grip on keeping things the same? What am I preventing by this? What do I need to let go of? What's really important here? What's scaring me about leaving? What scares me about staying?

Yeah- those are the twilrlings in my noggin. All big thinkings and all insider jobs, done a bit in, well, silence.

What's emerging in that silence is sometimes complete acceptance. (Hey, I am not MARRIED to Glasgow, we can make new friends and lighten our load of *stuff* and just GO. ) Othertimes it is more desparate clinging and hand wringing (I LOVE our home, we finally own everything, I love our friends and the neighbourhood and out life here and Lew is happy and we are settled, finally settled for a while and I DON'T WANNA GO. Stamp foot.)

What else is emerging is that I have done this all before. What I need is trust. Hope. Lean into what's possible, dream more about what it is we WANT in our future. ( I see Seattle, a cute house, Mark's GREAT job, more babies and a lovely lifestyle)

AND AND AND ... it may be something else. Something I have not yet dreamed of.

What I know is it matters that we are a) together b) happy c) OK.

The rest can come.

Even as I type I can feel the undercurrents of this going under.

It resonates.

When I am silent.

upwardly mobile

2011-03-09T14:54:00.000Z

Two developments have really surfaced these last weeks.

Walking
We have a full-on bonified WALKING boy. Outside. In the World. Where there is glass and cigarette butts and giant bumpy holes in the sidewalk where little feet can trip. Where cars/trucks/bikes/taxis/buses and all manner of the wheeled which we look at and point to from the pram or out the window in our flat are in 3-D... zooming past, parked on the street and omnipresent.

Mixing with the world
Nursery for 2 days a week. It was a rough entry for me us. It was hard to be away from him and he came home absolutely exhausted. But within weeks he slept there, played HARD at really fun things that we don't have at home (music class and giant cars and 8 other toddlers), charmed the ladies and now runs to get there in the morning. I vacillate from missing him and exuberant rejoicing. I run around the house like on speed and cram in all the Need 2 Hands jobs. I eat lunch in front of the TV. I savour the quiet. And zooooom. It is time to get him. I get excited butterflies as I walk down the stairs to get him at the nursery. It is a blissful reunion each day. He is all smiles and all arms out running towards me. For that alone -- the short time apart so we really really miss each other and are excited to be back in each other's company, it is worth it.

now we're talking

2011-02-03T11:50:00.000Z

We are entering a new phase with our boy ... words. Or moreover, pointing and demanding to know what something is called. It is darling, really, except is becoming a game show of guessing.

Lewis: pointing up,"Da???"
Mommy: Sky? Light? Birdy?

Lewis: pointing to his head "Ha"
Mommy: Hair? Head?

Lewis: pointing to the street "Ca"
Mommy: Cars?

Lewis pointing in the kitchen: "Ma"
Mommy: Mug? Water?

I just keep naming things until he smiles. I had thought it is because I named what he wanted. Now that I think about it, it is maybe just that he is finding my frantic ping ponging of naming exercise humorous.

He can name cheese (cheeeeee) cream cheese (chee cheee), chicken (kik), balloon (baaallo), ball (baaa), dog (daaa). And anything with wheels deserves a point. Cars, buses, bikes, prams. Over and over and over. And has put together that something like water is in the vases, in the sink, in his cup and all sorts of weird places. Pots (pa) and pans (pah) have covers (off= ooof and on = ahhh) and putting various their lids on things is enormously fun.

What is enormously fun for me is seeing his brain literally expand right in front of me. I can see the lights of understanding go on. Wow. And we can talk! I say things and he understands me. I ask him to go get something and he does. Miracle. I can tell him what we are going to do. (Time for bed, let's go outside, let's have a snack, let's find Daddy.) It feels respectful and collaborative now that we can *be* together in a different way. He points to people in photos around the house and names them. I am pleased to note he has recognised me in a picture, as well as Da and Baba (Auntie Barbara!)

I can't always guess or translate his insistent "ba!!!!!" and enthisiastic pointing but I can try. I can listen to him and hear what is is saying behind the words. What I want him to know is that I am here and I hear him.

it is all working out perfectly

2011-01-24T14:38:00.001Z

Isn't that a lovely way to think? I have been living in a bit of a white knuckle existence lately. Getting through the day has been enough, and no space for dreaming or believing. Instead, I have been super glued to the outcome of *this is how it must be*. It is a very narrow corridor to live in.

After talking to my dear pal Lex, she has inserted magically (she is sneaky) that thought into my brain ... things are working out perfectly. Huh. I know I, like everyone in the world, can get very attached to How Things Are. And it is scary to think about the unknown or about change. Letting the notion that things are actually working our perfectly is so liberating. It loosens the vice grip and drops the shoulders and lets my brain sigh with relief a bit.

I know this on some cellular level after all. I recall a very bleak period in 2004. My job sucked, I was 36 and the love of my life moved to another country, my studio apartment of over 10 FREAKING years was closing in, and I felt very very stuck.

Ah, yes, then enter coaching, gulps, bravery, big leaps, learning, and we all know how the story unfolded. Me in the UK, married, baby, happy career, way expanded way of living and a completely different life. A good one.

I never could have seen what goodies universe had cooking up for me. I never could have dreamed this one up. So I know (KNOW) it is an axiom that works. It is all working out perfectly. I just don't know how yet. I do trust that the wildest dreams are not so crazy.

I just don't have the whole board game in front of me ... but I can trust that the moves I am making, the cards we are playing are going to get us a really great outcome. Somewhere.

And the best days can be and are ahead.

What would be different for you if you believed that too?

Try it on for fun ... see how it sits.

ready for the miracle

2011-01-10T18:51:00.000Z

Sigh.

Seems we have been here before -- a time when jobs and contracts and futures are uncertain. Continuity of income unclear. And somehow at the 10th or 11th hour, things work out. Usually for the best. Usually pretty seamlessly.

So why does this feel different? Because we have an actual mortgage? Because we have a child? Because so much of my time, attention and dwindling energies are all but spent loving and caring for a 15 month boy and I don't have much to "do" except support and hope?

Yes.

It is time again to believe in the universal goodness that things will evolve as they should. And trust that.

An 11th hour miracle would do nicely, but how about at the nice and early 8th hour instead?

21 2011 intentions

2011-01-04T12:48:00.000Z

drive
read
procreate
laugh
learn
earn
savour
love
parent
expand
improve
choose
write
relax
tickle
hug
cook
sleep
enjoy
befriend
intend

2010 Greatest Hits

2010-12-30T15:50:00.001Z

Really?
Is it almost over?
2010 ... I hardly knew yee. Blinked twice and you are just about gone.

My year felt odd -- with lots of starts and stops and long quiet moments and blurry days that zoomed without notice.

I ~~think~~ know parenthood has altered my perception of time and often it gets judged by when a nap is due.

So this year felt Big. So many small and daily changes in my boy have added up into him being a real person. They are great hits indeed -- and yet I feel compelled to cough up a few that are not only about my child. After all, my own personal year rocked in many ways.

2010 Greatest Hits

cancer free FJF
Lewie giggles and kisses
fit flops
audiobooks
finding my mothering feet
smaller jeans
longer patience
baby friends becoming real friends
having a work from home husband
12 months of Lewis growing from cute baby to lovely small person
Cail Bruich on Great Western Road
guideparents
movies with wine and rhona
employing a cleaner
new Bosch washer and dryer
cat burglar family
sanity saving Saturdays off

Bring on 2011. My aspiration list is long and my hopes big.

freeze frame-14 months minus 3 days

2010-12-17T12:38:00.001Z

My boy is a boy ... no longer a baby. Whew!

Thank god for that. While it doesn't get easier, but different, I am so enjoying him at this moment in time.

Favourite word still BA! But said in different tones along with pointed pointing to get his point across.
Also knows Ba Ba (bye bye) -- often said along with a wave long after you are gone from the person you left, but still counts.
Eats lots but enjoys baby plum tomatoes, yogurt, peas and peanut butter toast more than anything.
Made friends with the salad spinner but still wary of the hoover and the hand held blender
Loves to stand on the window sill (with Mom holding him tight!) and look out at the world
Almost exclusively walks with the occasional crawl when he wants to get somewhere fast
Fascinated by wheels. Sigh. Hello gender stereo type.
Adult used pots/pans/phones/remotes are by far best toys
JUST started to like cuddly friends, which I LOVE
Will give kisses - wet and sweet
Much more hair than he had - wispy and light brown but still pretty much a baldy compared to his pals
Blue eyes seems to be keepers -- which is a lovely gift from his paternal Gran
Enjoys a bit of In the Night Garden on mom's lap
Balls -- kicking/throwing/eating = all good
Flirts shamelessly for smiles and coos with all people out in the world
Has zillion dollar smile and gabillion dollar giggle
Takes up almost all the real estate in his parent's bed and hearts

what I've learned in 12 months

2010-10-23T15:19:00.000+01:00

People have been asking me how I feel about having a 1-year old. And to be honest, it never occurred to me to be anything except relieved. And didn't it go fast? Well, only in retrospect. The days were often an exercise in Getting Through. Nights sometimes a blur. I felt like I was often riding the crest of managing it all only to fall into near collapse as soon as the boy had finally fallen asleep for the night.

Honestly, I found this year many things: Surreal. Testing. Surprising. Lovely. Engrossing. Frustrating. Scary. Tender. Enriching. And, well, HARD!

Maybe it is because I never ever babysat or had any experience with babies except for an occasional, quick and fearful hold of a pal's offspring. I've never been broody. Babies seemed nice, if foreign beings.

And my own sweet boy really was no exception. I remember going out with him in total fear that he would kick off crying and I Wouldn't. Know. How. To. Make. It. STOP.

And in fact, that did happen on occasion. I often felt like he was an unpredictable bomb which may go off at any time. It made me twitchy and jumpy. Not that he was by any means a particularly fussy or troubled wee babe. I was just a fussy and troubled mum.

Slowly, very slowly, I started to trust myself. Started to understand what he wanted, needed and took pride that going into MY arms often made it all better.

And now. Yes, Really only now, 12 months later, do I feel a bit calmer.

More space to relax into motherhood. Relish in the sunny, clear and uncomplicated love. Soak in the loveliness of holding hands.

And in getting to know my very sweet, smiling, curious, affectionate and heart melting boy, I am growing into the mother I want to be.

But the best thing is hearing my very favourite all time word.

Mama.

time to think

2010-09-11T13:04:00.002+01:00

My transition from non parent to parent is still a bit clunky. After almost eleven months of sliding along the scale of Not Really Worrying At All to Complete Obsession and 200% attachment to Getting Things Right, I am feeling a bit fried.

My pal and parenting mentor Hanna told me that parenting really underscores your personal failings and your personal abilities. Hooo Haaa. Very right. My failings are really in bold these days.

I can spend many many hours paying attention, and playing and encouraging and keeping the boy from ovens, sockets, fireplaces, corners, toilets, pointy things. I distract while swiftly changing a nappy on a standing, crawling and squirming boy. I even assist on *some* of the poopy ones. (One of the many reasons I love Mark. ) I can read and cuddle and soothe and tickle. I plan the meals he will eat. And those that his parents may even enjoy too. I marvel over his chewing and drinking and feeding his small self many food items while not losing my shit that so much of it is being thrown overboard the high chair tray or at me. I nurse. I prepare the many items needed for our outings to music class, swimming, a walk in the park or a lunch date. I restock. I launder. I go up and down the stairs. I walk the hills. I monitor mood shift and eye rubbing for the near imperceptible but imperative signs that a nap is needed ... within the next 10 minutes or Never. I coo and stroke and hum and mmmmm and head rub to sleep. Sometimes up to 45 minutes. Three times a day.

It is no great surprise that on the Saturdays that I have declared "mine" I have a hard time relinquishing control of all of the above. Mark knows how and what to do yet I watch and listen to myself snarkily reminding of naps, what happens "now" and interpreting all situations like he isn't here every day. (um, he is. He knows.) I cringe when I hear myself. It is like those people who won't call in sick to work when they are sick because they are "too needed". Phooey. The boy will be more than fine with his pop. He will enjoy the different style of parenting his company.

It is a bit of a racket, this motherhood trap we can get in. I want to be more than a mom/ I AM more than a mom. And yet I find it so easy to gets sucked into the very minutae of the routine of caring for a baby. It literally does my head in.

And it is also no great shakes that here on my day off, I am a bit unsure what to do with myself. Part of me cries to go OUT. On my OWN. See movies! Drink coffee in public quietly and READ! Window shop! Paint my toes! See Friends! Exercise! Explore! Get a hobby! SLEEP! All the things I crave when I am in full motherhood mode and my attention and psychic energies are all used up. Yet when the day gets here, I Just. Want. To. Stop. Doing. Ahhhhh. Commence staring into space and emptying head of all attention to ~~anyone~~ anything.

What I am learning is that I need perspective. Over and Over. I need to loosen the white knuckle grip. I need to relax. Much More. I need to practice being a different kind of parent ... the laid back kind. I need to be a mother and so much more. I need to work on the much more part. I need to give myself permission to get it wrong sometimes. I need to be less grumpy and more grateful. I need to trust my co-parent. I need to find a new balance between Caring and Attentive Mother and Crazy and Controlling Meanie.

And I need time to think.

pause: 10 months, 2 weeks

2010-09-03T19:19:00.000+01:00

8 teeth!
says mama, and I "know" he means me!
crawls very fast without using knees (all hands and feet)
stands all the time, but must hold onto something
refuses to lie down for nappy changing. (see stands all the time)
points at Every. Thing. And grunts crazily until you give him the object of his pointing
starting to use a baby fork, even if only to stab blindly and wildly at the highchair and then fling it at a parent
loves blueberries, cheese, cherries and whole plums (minus the pits, naturally) and natural yogurt
wants to drink out of Your Cup, no matter what you have
made friends with the exercise ball
now scared of the salad spinner
knows not his physical boundries and climbs atop of other babies when mingling. Not all the babies love this.
loves being chased around the house
can put round peg in round hole but all other shapes make him mad
pushes upturned laundry basket around the house as his "high tech" walker
likes to take muslins and "clean"
naps are a crap shoot and can last 1.5 hours or be refused entirely
has fallen asleep at the dinner table in his high chair. twice.
washing machine is the best show in town
claps at most things
waves bye bye, but about 3 minutes after you actually leave and are down the road
Mark claims he has said monkey and woof woof, but one time only and never to be repeated
facinated with cupboards, doors, lights
starting to be a b-o-y not a baby!

pause: 8 months and 4 weeks and 1 day

2010-07-14T20:36:00.000+01:00

I have been a really crap memory keeper. I still don't have a wedding album, most of my photos from the last 10 years are boxed and/or stored various places in the world. And I have not done ANY real record keeping of baby milestones. I was home recently and went through many of my keepsake boxes in my parent's basement.

a) wow, I wrote a LOT of notes in grade school
b) wow, I can't believe how much of my childhood stuff my parents KEPT... and moved ... and moved again.

I would very much like to be the kind of parent that has lovely scrapbooks of tickets and locks of hair and cute appropriate first photos -- all labeled and dated and official. And I am afraid it isn't going to happen. Not now anyway...

In theory, I am that person, but I somehow can't be arsed as it seems so tedious. Can I blame not having a basement to store things?

Instead, maybe I can capture moments in time of what it is like for Lew in his life on this day.

8 months and 4 weeks

loves toast, yogurt, water and cheese. (who is his mother) and vegetables (who is his father). and breastmilk (the kid has good taste)
3.5 teeth -- 2 bottoms and 1 front and 1/2 of the other front... fangs imminent
crawling fast and furiously, pulling up on furniture, learning to fall gracefully on his nice padded bum instead of crashing with his head
loves people -- smiles at all strangers and loves attention. a serious ham-bone and loves other babies -- and of course his mom and dad
takes 2 naps a day, usually at 10ish and at 2ish. Bath at 6:30 ish and bed at 7 and sleeps with a few wake ups until about 7
peek a boo makes him seriously CRACK up
loves music and watching (hearing?) people sing
not all that interested in stuffed animals, but likes balls, wheels and things he can shove in his mouth, which is actually pretty big
First noise (not really a word) was BA - then MA MA (which is CLEARLY a word) and we get the only occasional (sorry Mark) DA.
Is scared of the vacuum cleaner and my exercise ball
Has been very squirmy but starting to chill out and sit nicely on a lap
Goes to sleep listening to lullabies
Hates hats
And bibs
Will not let you feed him
Has a heart melting smile
Likes to hold hands and lots of cuddles
Books are OK as long as they have stuff to feel
Makes friends everywhere he goes -- each line of each shop ...
Leaves no corner unexplored, especially where we haven't baby proofed
Is genuinely good company
Has blue eyes which if they remain, will be from his paternal grandmother!
Is currently called Lewberry or Lewbear
Gets very busy sorting things (in his own categories unbeknownst to anyone else)
Has very light brown hair and very fine and what looks to be his uncle g's hairline
Shrieks inexplicably
Grabs glasses, pulls hair and bits of flesh
Drools constantly
Is adored by his parents
Emerging to be an exciting, curious, loving, sweet, sociable boy -- just like we ordered!

sweating all the smallest stuff

2010-07-10T19:41:00.000+01:00

I recently realized that I do approximately 2-3 loads of laundry EACH day. Now even including the MustWashAllClothesEachTimeHeWearsThem 8 month old, that is a whole more laundry than 3 people warrant. I am obsessed.

I have made it my cottage industry to never have anything in the laundry bins. Sheets, towels, kitchen tea towels, baby bibs, bathroom rugs ... all get such a regular rotation that my new shiny Bosch may be getting tired. Ever since the discovery of the multi-wash setting -- it all gets thrown in as one. Often.

I have decided somewhere in my addled brain that if I KEEP UP I will Remain In Control.
Keep up with laundry. Keep up with supplies in the house. Keep up with Facebook. And, well, that is all about I can keep up with.

Where did I get this idea?

I have a baby.

So very many things are now out of my control. He is dictating so many of my day's outputs.
The baby nap has become the central defining core of my days. Must. Get. Him. To. Sleep. 2 Naps. At All Costs. I contort to shush him and play the many many presleep games we have somehow adopted for hours, I walk endlessly in all manner of weather and mood in quiet (dare not a CAR drive by and wake the babe) parts of the park. I wind down the baby wolverine from warp speed (MUST CLIMB MUST STAND MUST MUST...) to mmmmmmmm, nursing ... to zzzzzzzzz.

It is freaking hard work. And I find I get crazy annoyed if all my best efforts, well, fail. (I guess We WON'T BE NAPPING THEN!)

I am a crazy person.

I currently sleep on 2 inches of my bed while my co-sleeping child lies spread eagle and husband gets 3 inches. (Note, our summer project is Reclaim The Bed: a much hyped and no action item to do so far...)

I haven't dried my hair with an actual hair dryer in about (no lie) 5 months.

I am woefully aware of all the dangers in our flat that we have yet to conquer -- so many edges and corners and finger snapping traps and climbable and pull able things. I try to be vigilant that he is able to be a free range kid and also a safe one.

This means I am on my hands and knees too.

I got a (thank you Jesus) massage today and the therapist agreed that I am indeed "broken".

I need some balance. I need to chill out about the naps and the laundry. I need to be OK with more chaos. I need to stop trying to recreate what worked and pay attention to what's happening. My boy is growing and growing fast. Nearly walking for chissake.

I can see how easy it would be to make my life's work about worrying the smallest bits to death. I could do nothing but keep the house tidy, laundry clean and our 3 square meals a day hot and ready. But man what would I be missing. And how empty would my life be at the end of it? Things will always get dirty again. Meals are gobbled up and gone.

I want to be a provider of safety and cuddles and giggles. And I want my boy to remember my smile, not my furrowed brow and busy hands.

Do I dare let the laundry pile up? What happens when I kill the control freak within? When I let go will it all crumble? Or is that when space to sweat and recognize the big stuff comes in?

what a girl wants

2010-06-24T16:59:00.000+01:00

I had 5 minutes recently and scribbled a list of Things I Would Like to Do To Stay Normal.

It was surprisingly short. And surprisingly simple.

Read books
Talk to Lex
Write in blog
Go out with friends for dinner alone
Go out with Mark alone
Go to movies on my own
Exercise class

Those are the things in my life I am not doing that I want to do. I note that 6 of the 7 are things On My Own. I think that is the theme. As much as I love being a mom, I am craving silence in my head and having my attentions elsewhere. Now he is crawling and seriously mobile, it will be even more of a challenge to keep my eyes on HIM at all times.

My eyes need to glaze over sometimes. Or stare at a big movie screen showing an independent film as I eat some smuggled bakery. My eyes need to focus on a juicy novel for 30 or more minutes at a stretch. My eyes need to see nightlife and humanity outside of the home after 6 p.m.

My ears need to be free of straining to hear a pip or a squeak from the baby monitor. Turning the volume down on all noise in the house. I need to be loud. I need to get out.

My brain needs to express the big and small revelations of my life. Witness and record some happenings. I have been too lax at letting the days turn to nights over and over without stopping to be grateful or to notice.

My body needs more than the endless pram walking I do each day. Up hills. With a heavy load. I need to wear Lycra and sweat.

Needing time as a couple. Needing time alone. Needing time with friends.

Is simple.

They say children grow well when their parents grow well.

I think it is time I do a bit of growing.

double digits

2010-04-28T20:21:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of meeting my husband (well, within 2 days of) and our 4th year of marriage.

Seriously.

I can't think of many things I have done for 10 years in a row, especially cheerfully and willingly.

(I have mastered waaaaaaaaay more than 10 years of eating too many cheese sandwiches and ditto on many years of not balancing my checkbook)

But 10 years of loving the same man really feels pretty easy after it is all said and done. I think, in fact, it is weirdly getting easier.

I pay homage to how a midwestern girl and a english boy have melded their lives together and created a new one. And also created a new person too.

I remember saying that I had never met anyone like M before and it still holds true.

He is an original. A mensch. A hard worker. An energy ball. A warm heart. A cool temper. A generous soul. And now proving to be a supreme dad.

I still feel like the cat who got the cream.

ticking my boxes

2010-04-22T21:02:00.000+01:00

A dear friend of mine recently commented that I have "ticked the major boxes" in my life... meaning, marriage, house, child. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Huh ... so I have.

I had never really expected to really *do* all that. I met my husband when I was 32 and got married at 38. I got my name on a mortgage to our flat at 40 and I had my son when I was 42.

I lived many adult years when those dreams felt very far fledged and unattainable. I just wanted to pay off my credit card bill, have some cute shoes, a boy to date and to get out of my studio apartment. I didn't really dare dream any bigger back then.

Through coaching, luck, a bit of Chutzpah and nothing to lose, I found and chased my dream of more.

I feel incredibly grateful to have the life that I do ... and it was all worth not only the wait, but the dream. So often people are afraid to dream about what they want, as if it exposes the greater ache and need for more. They settle quietly for the things they don't really want, while trying not to notice their souls are slowly evaporating.

What I am learning is that the dream is really really important to the process. Allowing space and time to muse on what you want is not only delicious but vital to crafting the reality. (If you build it, they will come theory.)

So, yeah, I have ticked some central and happy boxes.
Yay Me.
Grateful Me.
My life is indeed more than I ever imagined.

And now the job is to dream of bigger boxes to tick.

and here we are emerging on a sunny day

2010-04-14T11:34:00.000+01:00

begin again

2010-04-14T11:28:00.000+01:00

I know it is hugely cliche and completely overstated... but spring is feeling like a miracle this year. Maybe because the last 12 months have been a whirl of wake ups and walks and feeding and naps and soft voices and all very very inward gazing. The rest of the world ceased to really exist.

Spending the last 3 days out in the air and sun and sky feels like a new experience. And watching baby take in the leaves and grass and the view from a picnic blanket, well, IS a new experience. Seeing him reminds me of what's new to discover. What's crazily beautiful as a stick or a toe or a spoon. We are both emerging -- him for the first time and me again.

And it is perfect that this week I start back not only running the workshops again for Life Clubs, but also coaching. I do feel oddly, and inexplicably ready. Which also feels like a miracle. Maybe because the last 12 months have been so baby and getting ready for the new world order and new scary and very very other. I doubted my sense of self, my brain, and my attention span would be able to coach. Or coach effectively.

I am happy that the early reports are that it feels GOOD to work a little. It does complete the fuller picture of who I am. Feels right to begin again -- but now with a deeper, richer and really centered launch pad.

Who I am as a mom and who I am becoming is adding to me as a person and as a coach. I think my heart has grown a new chamber that Lewis lives in and yet, I still have room for more.

This is good news.

I feel so grateful that I get to participate in serving others to get happy. And so I begin again with fresh eyes, delighted by the miracles of my life.

why doesn't Andy comment anymore?

2010-04-10T17:43:00.000+01:00

Where are you Andy? Don't you love us anymore?

no wonder he doesn't respond to "Lewis"

2010-04-08T22:16:00.000+01:00

I am sure all parents have ridiculous names they call their babies... (right???)

For some reason I can't really call him by his actual name.

Am I scarring him by this litany of handles?

And why are so many of them food items?

And just HOW mad at me is he going to be when he is called sausage in his teen years?

monkey
noodle
lou bear
sunshine
sausage
saucy
sausage patty
peanut
lewie loo
loo loo
loo loo bell (Father really disapproves of this one)
little fella
small fry
baby dumpling
sweet potato
lamb chop

fast forward

2010-04-05T20:13:00.011+01:00

Since the invention of DVR on TV I can't stand to watch commercials anymore. Now that you can fast forward through them, it is painful to watch Live TV and have to endure them.

I'd like you all to think of my blogging absence as skipping the commercials.

In the life of an infant, 1.5 months is very very long. Many giant leaps can happen. Motor skills develop. New sounds emerge. Clothes are outgrown.

So many things have happened in the life of Lewis that I can barely keep up.

Let me catch you up, fast forward now that he is 5 months and 3 weeks old!

we have rolling over
wearing 6-9 month clothes
getting very *handsy* with hair, glasses, straps on one's bra, other babies
bbbbbbbb, fffffffff and high pitched terradactyl singing
infectious giggles and smiles and silliness
FOOD! We are starting baby led weaning a little earlier than the recommended 6 months as Lew ticks all the boxes, can sit in highchair, interested in food (ours!), can put things purposefully in his mouth.

So we bought the BIG BIBS (OK smocks) and have been letting Lew experiment at meal time. So far he has tried, avocado, banana, pear (too slippery), roasted potato, and toast! Loves it.

I am filled with odd pride when I see him tucking into toast like a proper person. It is as if suddenly, it dawns on me that he is a tiny human, not just a baby.

He was to start in nursery 2 days a week and we bailed. Too chicken and too attached and too not necessary. Revisit in September when he is a big boy of 11 months

What else has shifted is us as parents. We are starting to *get* him a bit more and we are (to borrow a phrase from my pal Rhona) both in love with the same little person. It is like the perfect complete shared and engrossing hobby that you are both crazy about.

And that's nothing to fast forward. I really want to just pause.

What Mothers Do, Especially When it Looks Like Nothing:

2010-02-18T11:33:00.006Z

I started reading this book when the title grabbed me on amazon.

And from the get go, it named so many of my bleary, unformed thoughts. The first book I have come across that doesn't give tips or advice but instead gives quiet affirmation to the millions of tiny things mothers of infants do...

... like being constantly interruptable, or giving the deep comfort a newborn craves, the extreme seriousness of having a giant new responsibility and no training or having zero patience for your partner.

It also speaks to the confusion, anxiety and exhaustion new moms endure.

It gives us new mothers a more realistic perspective calmed me right on down.

Excellent bedtime reading to help sanity with a nice dose of empathy.

a few for the non facebook crowd

2010-01-27T10:40:00.002Z

You know who you are ... here is gorgeous boy at 3 months-ish

10 things I never thought I'd do but sadly already am

2010-01-26T20:44:00.007Z

stop carrying a purse... wearing only coats with big (stuffed) pockets
taking ownership of eye gunk, stray boogies and the general picking at baby's face
rely on soothers ( pacifiers, binkies, dummys - whateveryouwanttocallem) to, um, soothe my baby
insure I have extra soother in the big pockets at all times
gage my walking distance by if I need the nappy bag
turn down invitations to a night time art opening because it conflicts with (my) the baby's bedtime
walk the baby in his pram endlessly so he gets a good nap, even if I am bedraggled and it is raining
let baby watch Baby TV (yes this exists)
question my choices and want to run away -- for at least 10 minutes
imagine baby will be a pianist/genius/president/artist/ etc. because of some perceived acute awareness of hands/light/faces/colour, etc.

intentions

2010-01-18T14:26:00.007Z

First of all, can I just say how much I miss having time to write in my blog?

Sometimes, as I lie in bed for the 20 minutes I am trying to fall asleep IMMEDIATELY after Lewis does to take full advantage of maximum sleep hours, I think of things I am dealing with, enjoying, noticing about me, the world, etc ...

All very blog worthy and yet I find about 12 minutes a day when I am not feeding, (which to be fair sometimes gives me a one handed computer access which I waste on Facebook), burping, soothing, changing, or otherwise futzing with the boy.

I really admire the Moms who write. Moms with little ones. How do they do it? Check out the blogs I follow and you'll find really funny, clever and well written stuff by busy people.

So I have these thoughts and then they go ... away ... as the days tick off and the calendar turns.

But here is one notion that stuck and I was determined to use part of my 12 minutes to capture it.

In Leadership we often started the day with one word intentions .. something we would hang our hats on for the day. It was how we wanted to be, show up or create.

And I have come up with the intention that captures this period of time for me.

Surrender.

I can't blog like I used to. Or read. Or watch TV. Or talk to friends. Or stay out past 7. Or drink. Or do so many things. And when I try, I end up frustrated. Things are interrupted. Baby cries. Needs attention. Constantly.

Yet, when I surrender to this new way of life and redirect my attentions and energies and tune into my newborn baby, it flows. We laugh and smile and coo. And cry and sleep. I match his energy rather than force my own on him and it works much much better. I give up trying to do all the things I did before. But I am getting something new.

He will only ever be this age once. I will only ever be a first time mother of a newborn once. His head will only smell this sweet for a limited time. Surrendering to the moment and savouring a bit brings me really really present to this weird altered and mostly very very lovely time.

And I am rewarded with the occasional 12 minutes of time to reflect. Or brush my teeth. Or make a sandwich. Or maybe even write.

So if I am not blogging, know it is because I have stopped. I have surrendered.

And I am probably on Facebook. With one hand.

But I'll be smelling the delicious baby while I am at it.

a good glasgow day

2010-01-05T12:00:00.006Z

After 1 and a half years, somewhere along the line, Glasgow has suddenly become home.

I was mighty resistant after living in picturesque Edinburgh with our homey/handy neighbourhood, wine shop 20 feet from our front door, good friends 5 minutes down Broughton Street, bus lines aplenty, award winning butcher, John Lewis and a movie theater top of the street, friendly and fantastic hairdresser 2 doors down.

Glasgow was big. Grittier. Less convenient. I couldn't (still can't) figure out the buses. We had to walk further to get supplies. And we knew bugger all people. Felt isolating in our big beautiful 2nd floor flat.

Slowly, I found my way. I found my stockists. Where to buy the best bread, who made the best coffees and cakes, who sold local organic eggs. I became a regular. I am on friendly "how are you/nice to see you" terms with many of my local shopkeepers ... even know some by name!

We love our doctors and health visitors. Our pharmacist is a gentle lovely guy. Our NHS dentist 5 minutes away and friendly. I love my yoga and acupuncture place. We are frequent visitors to the cafes and the park. We take pleasure in knowing what's new in the hood.

We walk. EVERYWHERE.

Maybe it is because we have a son now. People on the street smile and coo. (how could you not?) We found kindred friends with babies. We are suddenly part of the community.

It snuck up on me when I wasn't looking. The odd bits of life have collected and glued together.

I feel at home. And it feels remarkable.

greatest hits 2009

2009-12-31T09:52:00.000Z

2009 was a big year for me.

The last few months have been a runaway train and a bit of a blur.

Luckily, I have been keeping track along the way, noting the things great and small that made me happy.

So in chronological not importance order, my hits of 2009.

Ion hairdryer, smoother, silkier hair than one thought possible
Double lines on the EPT on my birthday
Food processor -- finally able to mince quickly
Life Clubs Canada -- Shalom Village and Toronto! Thanks Pat and Eva Marie and Nina!
Underbates in Scotland, with surprise Abby on her way
There's a monkey in there
The Belly
Lanzarote skinny dipping in private pool, 6 months pregnant
Lewie sandwich
Lewis Room Miracle Transformation
5 Star Husband
October 20 Lewis arrival
New local baby pals, saving my sanity and sense of humour
Trifecta of chocolate getting me through pregnant and recovery -- plain chocolate digestives, Biblo's chocolate cake and pan de chocolat
Glasgow Waitrose
Lewis heart melting smiles
Fountain in Kelvingrove Park
An Clachan café in Kelvingrove Park,
Notes from the Universe
Making happy, enthusiastic grandparents, aunts and uncles
Mark as Daddy
Being Lewis' Mum

what I've learned in 6 weeks of motherhood

2009-12-02T10:18:00.013Z

Doing one household chore a day is an accomplishment. Load of laundry or making a meal or changing the sheets or paying the bills. The operative word is ONE.
Little fingernails are sharp
On demand feeding is, well, demanding. And leaves little time for anything else
Taking a book out of the library doesn't mean you will read it
Babies make you stupid and unable to really hold a proper conversation
You start to talk in the 3rd person to your spouse in a passive aggressive way ... "Daddy is making a mess in the kitchen." "Daddy is taking his sweet time getting ready"
You will do anything to insure getting sleep, like going to bed at 8 pm every night and following the same pattern because it worked once
Boobs are just food and they come out everywhere
Smiles and giggles from your little one reduce you to a pool of mush
It is vital to all persons to get outside and get air every single day
Hideous windy Scotland rain makes number 10 challenging
You can't imagine how any single parent copes
Breastfeeding may burn off as many as 600 calories a day, but eating miniature Snicker bars in bed while nursing may counterbalance any weight loss
You can't help comparing your baby and your parenting to other people, even if you don't want to
You root and cheer for burbs and farts, but only from your little one
You know you are supposed to cherish every minute but secretly sometimes wish he was 4, potty trained and could chat with you
Fashion goes by the way of easy-access-breast-whipping out tops
Sleeping on your stomach is as lovely as you remember
You find yourself squeezing your boobs in public without a second thought to check which one is fullest
Watching your son and your husband smile at each other gives you utter blissful feelings
You still can't believe this small person is yours and wonder when the grown ups are going to show up
Hours fly by like minutes when you are having quiet time staring at the little one
You do indeed check to make sure he is breathing if things have been too blissfully quiet for too long
You envy the baby's adorable snugly outfits and wish you could pull them off
When you get even a moment, you realise how happy you are

what is oddly surprising to me

2009-11-05T17:34:00.010Z

That new parents REALLY do not sleep. I know it was mentioned, but somehow it never really hit home.
That I -- a 9-10-hour-in love-with-my-bed sleeper -- is surviving *barely* on 5-7 hours of broken sleep.
That "Sleep When He Sleeps" would be hard. I lov(ed) naps and prided myself on my ability to sleep easily. Now if I try to catch an hour or so when the monkey is post feed dozing, I lie awake in stiff hyper vigilance, awaiting the inevitable whimper before it becomes murderess cry, twitching with exhaustion.
Murderous cry ... all the midwives in the hospital and home visits have remarked on his "powerful cry" ... it makes your guts churn and your heart break. We know when he has something to say.
Home visits! Good NHS ... we had a midwife/saviour visit our home nearly every day for the first 10 days. What a god-send to have a nice lady come and weight your babe, answer all your ridiculous questions, show you what you are doing wrong w your breastfeeding, and generally make you feel competent. Now we have a health home visitor nurse who checks in on us until we are ready to start going to the Doctor office. Amazing service!
My own melt down hour happens at 5-7 pm when it gets dark, I am still exhausted by the night before and worried about the night ahead. Especially if I had a failed Sleep When He Sleeps nap. Cue the tears and the anxiety.
Every morning I want to get out of bed, shower, put on real clothes, lipstick and participate in the world. If it wasn't so daunting.
Vulnerability. Hormones. Sleep Deprivation. All make me very needy spouse clinging for all support.
Missing 1:1 husband time. Already. When do we get to focus on each other? I didn't realise how important that is to my well being. I rely on it!
2 weeks post birth and my body is shrinking back. THAT feels amazing!
Watching Mark with the boy makes my heart grow 10 times over
No shame. After c section and lots of breastfeeding lessons, 5 day hospital stay, I am far less shy about my body then pre babe. It has a different purpose now.
How fun it is to get to know our boy... his funny noises and freakishly strong arms, his serious old man expressions and his eyes as they occasionally make the focus to my face with vague recognition. He is delicious.
How I feel my molecules rearranging into something new, different and unknown. Motherhood.

12 days after birth

2009-11-01T14:00:00.008Z

eyelashes coming in
sleeping 3.5- 6 hours at a shot
gaining 2 oz a day
outgrowing smallest outfits
discovering and admitting my own melt down hour
trying desperately to sleep when he sleeps and insure a daytime nap
seeing Mark as baby whisperer and ultimate Lewis calmer
witnessing more consciousness emerge when we lock eyes
adorable baby sneezes and hiccups
setting up nursing station with laptop, jug of water, ipod, pillows, remote, blankets, house phone, reading material, snax and mobile phone.
giving up being house chef and laundry folder to allow Mark to showcase his skills
out and about in slings -- enduring the curious stares -- and questions "is that a dog in there? you shouldn't carry a dog like that."
being in charge of Input and Mark in charge of Output (wonder how long I can get away with that one)
feeding like a champ. both of us
falling more in love everyday

8 days after birth

2009-10-28T08:37:00.005Z

I can sleep on my back. ALMOST on my stomach
I can turn over in bed!
I can put on my OWN socks and shoes!
My shoes FIT!
No more carpel tunnel - watch me make a fist!
1000% less puffy, but no wedding ring yet (booo!)
Innards straightened out, room for all the important organs who have been squished
No more heartburn!
Runny eggs
All the smelliest softest cheeses
As soon as I am off pain killers - moderate WINE!!
Close hugs with the husband
pregnancy hair and nails still nice
perma bra at all times
everyone smells like sweet condensed milk
blankets, muslin squares and glasses of water everywhere I sit
held captive to a nursing position
deep need for pastries
short attention span
dream of leaving house some day
dream of talking on phone some day
thankful for wifi, laptop and internet and itunes for small hours
getting better every day!

Finally. Deliriously. Happily. Here.

2009-10-27T08:40:00.008Z

The wait is over.
The boy has arrived.

He waited and waited.
And we waited and waited.
It was hard.
16 days.
An unsuccessful induction.
Raging hormones.
Fear and stress.
A scary 5 day hospital stay.
And finally we went to go get 'em.
A very successful C- section.

And now he is here and the memory of how he got here is fading as is the first scary sleepless nights.
He is one week new.
And all I see is soft milky boy
Sweet and light and love

Lewis, we are glad to have you
Welcome to us
Welcome to the world
We are all the better with you here

Dear L

2009-10-12T20:24:00.008+01:00

Dear L-

Where are you?

I thought you would be here by now.

I don't know why, but I imagined you coming in right at the date the doctor's predicted.

But here it is 8 days later and you seem completely happy in your watery world. I am so glad you are comfortable.

And I need to tell you we are really excited for you to come out.

Not just because I can barely waddle up the stairs. Or I can't wear any of my shoes any more. Or because I really want to drink red wine. Or because your grandparents are here now. Or even because I am tired of carrying you.

It may sound cliché, even to your young ears. But it is purely because of you, little boy.

We want to meet you. And show you the world. And take care of you. And see your little face and give you many cuddles and kisses. I am ready to be your mom and your dad is ready to be your dad.

So know that.

Come when you are ready.

And know that we are ready.

For you.

Love from your mom

Circling Houston

2009-10-04T12:59:00.009+01:00

Exactly 5 years ago, I moved to the UK for a new life.

I didn't have the easiest time getting INTO the UK (if anyone remembers my melt down and near denial of entry at Heathrow Immigration).

And now, exactly 5 years later, I am due another chapter.

Today is my due date for entry into another new foreign country -- motherhood.

After 40 weeks of pregnancy, I feel like I have been on a very long flight and have been able to occupy myself just fine -- reading, sleeping, music, snacking, looking out the windows, chatting with fellow passengers, etc. And now it is time to land and we are near the airport but are circling over and over, awaiting clearance. Circling Houston.

I am uncomfortable. I want to stretch out. I am out of chat, out of magazines and out of patience. I want to land. I want to BE there.

Unlike me in 2004, I am very hopeful that Lewis will seamlessly enter this world with all his papers in order and will be greeted with smiles and warm welcomes without a hitch.

He may come today -- or not... we all know the art not the science of predicting due dates.

What I do know (in my most southernly regions and in my heart) that he IS coming.

I just need to calm myself the heck down and reread the Skymall catalog. They have some nifty things in there.

And the next chapter is about to begin.

I wonder

2009-09-29T11:10:00.004+01:00

I wonder when I will go into labour
I wonder if I will go into labour or if I will have to have something *done* to jump start it
I wonder how I'll cope -- quietly? swearing? not at all? like a champ?
I wonder if I will end up with a C section
I wonder how much L will weigh
I wonder if he will have hair when he comes out
I wonder what it will be like to be someone's mother
I wonder if I will become one of those mothers who becomes obsessed with all things related to her child
I wonder if I will get bored
I wonder how M & I will trade off and work together on being parents
I wonder if I will want to go back to work straight away. Or never.
I wonder what real sleep deprivation would do to me
I wonder if I can get away with not having sleep deprivation
I wonder if I'll be a natural or if everything will feel foreign
I wonder if I will still want to watch all my favourite TV shows and if I will have time
I wonder if I will be able to read
I wonder what it will be like to drink again. And eat runny eggs and sushi.
I wonder if diaper changing will infiltrate my dreams
I wonder when my wedding rings will fit again
I wonder what breast feeding will be like
I wonder what it will be like to go out into the world for the first time with L by myself
I wonder if I will be a freaky worried mom
I wonder if I will want to do it again. Or never.
I wonder if I will ever stop wondering.

38 weeks, 5 days!

2009-09-24T15:34:00.001+01:00

And here is how it all looks ...
Waddling has commenced.

the waiting is the hardest part

2009-09-21T11:41:00.007+01:00

Sorry Tom Petty. Even as I write that I am not sure that it is strictly true for me.

Yes. It is a little weird to live in suspended anticipation. Like waiting for a package to arrive. A flight to land. The cable guy. An important phone call.

All to come out the bottom end of your body.

Yes. I am helpless to retrieve anything at my feet. Put on my shoes. Walk very far without huffing. Eat very much without reaching for the Gaviscon. Turn over in bed without a project plan and a crane.

My body is very very full. And tired.

Yes. The novelty of pregnancy has worn off a while ago. The sympathy and the empathy and the extra attention has waned. My general crankiness and body woes are old news.

My body is over it.

But somehow, I am still finding small things to do. Today I am making my play lists for labour! Chill CDs and UpBeat CDs! Who knows if I will actually use them, but is sure fun to choose what songs I imagine will make me mellow and breathe and which will spur me on to Keep Going.

I am washing all the wee clothes and blankets.
I am piling more things on the Hospital Bag Pile.
I am having Coffee Dates with Pregnant Pals. (I have never been so popular).
I am reading novels by the boatload.
I am seeing movies.
I am taking naps.
I am downloading Feeding and Diaper tracking apps for my iPhone.

Yet I know the time is coming near. And not just because people who were due before me have now HAD their babies. (which is a pretty loud wake up call). I can feel my body changing. Things shifting south. My hormones cranking up. Odd things making me irritable. Odd things making me cling to Mark.

SO waiting so far is hard. But not the hardest part.

I have a sneaky suspicion that is still to come. The labour. The delivery. The coming home as parents. The enormous change that I am standing at the precipice of. The responsibility. The heartbreaking love I am already having for my boy.

What I can do now is be calm about that.

And not freak.

Be excited that our boy is coming very soon.

And breathe.

prepare yee

2009-09-14T14:24:00.013+01:00

When I was in Leadership, Karen Kimsey House said something that really stuck with me. (Well, she said many things that stuck, but this one is germane to this here.)

Planning is often pointless -- things rarely go the way you anticipate. But what you can do is prepare. Prepare and dance with whatever shows up.

This has become my mantra and outlook on birth. I am preparing. Preparing the room, preparing my body, preparing the *stuff*, preparing the rest of my life to slow down, preparing help, preparing my energy levels. Doing what I can do.

I don't know how this boy will come into the world. I have thoroughly thought about the preferences on how I'd LIKE it to go. I've outlined my preferences. And at the end of the day, I have to allow what is going to happen to happen. The truest definition of dancing in the moment I can think of.

I have been getting a lot of Leadership lessons flashing into this experience. Asking for help. Trusting my body. Leaning in 100% to Mark, to my child, my body. Operating with intention. Not getting hung up on the particles (oh so hard not to do) and keeping my stake really clear. Creating space in the level 3. And a bit of failing, recovering and staying.

Who knew all those lessons from last year would come in such waves for me now. I think of the ropes courses we did and I know I can trust my body to deliver what it needs to. To tap into inner wisdom. I have my belay team. They have my rope. And I have me.

Something else Karen said also keeps going through my mind.

There will be a time to get nervous and it isn't yet. I'll let you know when.

Kinder words could not be spoken at the time of serious nerves and fear.

And taking that lesson to heart, I am just not going to get nervous yet.

Lewis will tell me when. And I can tell he is already a pretty smart kid.

ready for action

2009-09-07T17:33:00.003+01:00

Wouldn't you like to sleep here?
Sunny lemonade walls and crisp white things?
New and shiny.
At long last the junk room is no more.
100% baby ready.
Alls we need is the kid!
And 4 more weeks of baking the bun.

Nearly

2009-09-06T13:13:00.009+01:00

At 36 weeks into this whole Creating a Person Project, it is really starting to look like it is all going to come together.

This weekend, we got the crib/cot ... and watching Mark put it together really hit it all the way home. I mean, he has put together ALL the furniture in our lives and houses, but for some reason, the crib... the crib... wow.

I felt a little like we are in a movie of our lives with a happy soft rock soundtrack playing and featuring snapshots of moments like that one.

So we are getting as ready as one can.

And have created a place I would be happy to sleep in if I was a babe -- sunny, bright, clean, comfortable, quiet, safe and cozy.

It is weird/lovely that we are having someone move in with us. A new person. Who is part of us. Who is OF Us. And is going to up-end all we know about ourselves and our world.

How does anyone really get ready for that?

Open. Curious. In the moment. Intent. Surrender. Clean. Organize. Sleep. Read. Laugh. Rub belly. Kiss husband. Appreciate.

Oh yeah, and wait.

35 weeks

2009-09-02T19:17:00.003+01:00

And this is how it all looks at 35 weeks!

Slowing down my slow down.

Life Clubs is passed over for now.

A few clients to finish for now.

Lists to make.

Naps to take.

Worries to abate.

Things for the freezer to create.

Time to pull my weight.

OK, I am out of rhymes. But not things to do.

Lots we still need to "get". And several hospital things to "iron out".

Simultaneously wanting the time to go faster and also stop all together. Ready and Not At All.

An interesting paradox. I am guessing/hoping that one of those will win out sooner or later.

My Life According to the Indigo Girls

2009-08-20T12:11:00.004+01:00

Several bloggers are posting their life according to their favourite artist.

The Indigo Girls have always been able to pour emotions into their songs in a way that makes me want to sing them at the top of my lungs.

Give it a go with your fav artist!

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions.

Pick your Artist: Indigo Girls

Are you a man or a woman: Girl With The Weight Of The World In Her Hands

Describe yourself: Closer to Fine

How do you feel: Make It Easier

Describe where you currently live: Get out the Map

If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Southland In The Springtime

Your favorite form of transportation: Least Complicated

Your best friend? Hey Kind Friend

You and your best friends are: Strange Fire

What's the weather like: None But The Rain

Favorite time of day: Killing Time

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: Power of Two

What is life to you? Hand In Hand

Your fear: Kid Fears

What is the best advice you have to give: Love Will Come to You

Thought for the Day: The Water is Wide

How I would like to die: Welcome Me

My soul's present condition: Free Through Eternity

My motto: Make This House A Home

slow ride (take it ea-say)

2009-08-19T12:43:00.008+01:00

And suddenly.

It slows.

After what felt like a cafuffal of a last few weeks, I suddenly can see some space beginning to emerge in my head.

It is lovely.
The slow down has begun.
And I am grateful for it.

Midst switching hospitals. (which feels like a huge relief)
Starting to close down my Life Clubs shop (or pass the baton) only one more until post baby.
Heeding my primal needs to eat and sleep in frequent bursts. (never underestimating the power of toast)
Trying not to catch Mark's cold. (which is tricky as it requires a wide berth and no cuddles)
Doing some bonding with other pregnant people we've been lucky to meet through our classes the last 2 weekends.
Getting good, belly laugh and compassionate chat with my pregnant yoga pal -- who I am happily drafting off of, sharing a doula and a soon a hospital. Boys bonding over beers and buildings.
Making lists of (probably) ridiculous things.
Amazed at the longest, strongest nails of my life.
Wondering why after a blissfully headache free 8 months, my head has decided to start to hurt again
Spending time WATCHING my belly as Lewis rolls around, alien-style, contorting in ways that entertain.

Looking forward to an even blanker September.

And for extra measure, am checking out the (hilarious) International Institute of Not Doing Much.

Which I think everyone should consider belonging to for the rest of the summer.

33 weeks

2009-08-17T16:37:00.004+01:00

In all my blooming glory.

(Standing, please note, in the FINISHED baby room. Well done to my dream boat, perfectionist and 110% giver Mark!!!)

winning words

2009-08-17T16:14:00.006+01:00

I was given this little award by a dear fellow blogger and am dead chuffed.

Even though I've been blogging for a while, I was totally ignorant to all the funny, clever, poignant blogging going on out there.

People following each other and giving each other kudos and recognition feels really nice and neighbourly. And inspires one to keep writing - take time to stop and be thoughtful and conjure up an angle, a perspective to review.

So even though I don't follow many blogs - I am hereby passing the good vibe and nominating the ones I most religiously go to for my daily dose.

Here's to your continued brain power, vulnerability, commitment and sharing with the world!

Moderation 1/3 - 2/3 - to Henry who inspires way beyond, in every aspect. Thank you Diamond Bear.
Life Clubs - A Clearer Way of Thinking - for Nina who relentlessly champions people having better lives.
clueless but hopeful mama - who I found when I was newly pregnant, and whose insight and heart cheers me.

Thank you and your words. They matter.

(scary) (perhaps) cultural difference

2009-08-14T11:04:00.005+01:00

(this is amended)

Outside my (current, hopefully not for much longer) maternity hospital.

Woman in her nightgown and robe, clearly in the early stages of labour, standing outside to have a cigarette.

Sums up much of the health attitude here.

Different and somewhat Mortifying.

***********
P.S. As an amendment to this posting, it not that women in the US don't smoke while pregnant, it is perhaps that they hide it more. This is in no way meant to slander my adopted home of bonnie Scotland, where I have been welcomed so nicely. It is perhaps more of a reflection of the specific neighbourhood and attitude of certain areas in Glasgow.

(am I out of trouble now?)

Doula Done Deal

2009-08-07T15:25:00.004+01:00

Happy to report we have *hired* our doula. She's a trainee, but exudes a comfortable and confident vibe and has given birth twice at our hospital. She has a famous Scottish Dad too- but that is oddly not my headline news.

What is new is that I feel the penny has dropped somehow in the last few weeks. We've gone from 1 to 100. From total ignorance to Kinda Knowing Things. And it was not a pretty trip. I was resistant to thinking about giving birth, so initially my brain was kicking and screaming to shut it all out. Denial.

Not that I know all. Or even have my body or mind ready. But between the 5 classes the hospital offer, the 2 weekend courses we are going on through the NCT (National Child Trust), the books, DVDs and Pregtastic -- we ought to have a through and balanced and bigger view of what is possible and what is what.

That, coupled with the near completion of Lewis Room (Halle- freaking -luah ) has me feeling calmer and more comfortable with what is to come. Less overwhelm and more open-ness.
(Almost) ready to make the famed lasagnas for the freezer that supposedly comes with nesting.

But for sure ready to stop panicking.

freakishly fascinating

2009-08-04T13:12:00.008+01:00

I want to apologize for any errant thought I may have ever had about a pregnant person being obsessed with her pregnancy.

I defy ANYONE to have something grow in them, distort their body and not be interested in it.

And then make that something a PERSON who you created that will grow big and then come out of you in a dramatic and amazing way and then will move in with you, feed off of your body, be utterly and 100% dependant on you for many years and not be totally, um, distracted.

I now know that this process of becoming a parent is a Very Big Deal in one's life. I understand why friends go inwards, why they don't want to go out, why home is haven, why they do not have time for me for a while.

I get it.

And I am sorry if I ever didn't.

And I am hoping my world adjusts as I feel my tunnel vision closing in and my current interests point to he who lives underneath my navel for a while.

It isn't that I don't care or am not interested in what is happening in other people's lives, it is purely that I am mesmerized by the biology and evolutionary experiment which is my own self.

I promise to return to being a good friend, sister, daughter, tribe member, coach, student at some point.

Me, I may never be quite as interesting to myself ever again.

uk baby

2009-08-03T17:08:00.008+01:00

UK to US
pram= stroller
consultant= OB/GYN
cot= crib
moses basket=bassinet
dummy= pacifier
nappy= diaper
muslin squares= burping blankets
wee man= little boy
surgery= doctor's office
wean = baby
maternity leave= 52 weeks

US to UK
baby shower= Does Not Exist
diaper genie= tommee tippee
maternity leave= 6 weeks
head nurse= sister

be the pooh

2009-07-30T12:56:00.007+01:00

My 24 hour rant + some crying + releasing some stress+ a long soak in the tub + talking to Postitive Lexie = I feel better
My job is not to be annoyed or angry or scared.
My job is to be calm and appreciative and grateful and optimistic and excited for what is to come.
I have a beautiful, 100% normal boy growing happily inside me.
I feel good.
I love my husband and our relationship is only getting stronger.
I appreciate this moment.
I am really really grateful for all my life has become.

Float on my back like a happy, round Winnie the Pooh.
Knowing that what is next is going to be just right.
Trust that I am OK.
While keeping my head and heart in the grounded, comfortable place it has been these last 7 months, which has served me so well.
I forget.
And I am reminded.
And I am grateful.

P.S. What hormones? What mood swing? I have no idea what you are talking about.

no scary birth stories

2009-07-30T08:37:00.010+01:00

Warning, anyone who has been within ear shot or email of me in the last 24 hours has already heard this rant.

It keeps playing in my head and I hope this will help calm me down.

When I got pregnant, I started out thinking *just let us both be alive at the end* of the delivery.

Since then, I've been reading birth books. And learning.

Not the "What to Expect" but about the actual birth experience. Ina May's Guide to Child Birth, Stand and Deliver, Preg-tastic podcasts, talking to doulas, moms who have enjoyed (a foreign concept) their experience. Chosen to trust their body and deliver in a natural way.

And now that I am learning all about what's possible, what's natural, what can happen when we let our wise and animal body do what it absolutely knows how to do, it all changed.

We really all have been scared into thinking that birth is a dangerous, scary, screaming, medical emergency. That our bodies need help, saving and helping.

And while sometimes that is true, it is often not the case.

Things also changed when my doctor said I wouldn't be able to have an epidural. Or a spinal. My platelets are too low. I would be offered gas & air, and morphine as helpers. The end.

AND, if I needed a C section, I would be put under general anaesthetic. 100% knocked out. No awareness, no being there, no bonding. Not really the circumstances I imagined my motherhood starting. Surgery, recovery and absence.

Now since I am over 40 and have a higher BMI, they are telling me I have only a 30% chance of delivering. Which even in my fuzzy math says - We Believe You Will Be Having A C Section.

They can't, however, tell me why. Just statistics show that heavier/older women have c sections.
Here are some theories:

because you TELL THEM THEY WILL HAVE ONE and it plants the seed that they will not be able to deliver.
because you tell them they won't be ABLE to deliver
because they end up scheduling an elective one as you strongly suggested to me
because they often end up inducing heavier women -- which often leads to emergency c sections

I am healthy in every other way. I am active. I have no other risks. Yes, I have low platelets. Which I would think would not be great for surgery, yet instead of being encouraged to try to deliver my baby in the most organic and healthy and natural way without any medical interventions, they are encouraging me to have surgery.

This is clearly an emotional issue for me.

I now know that I am looking at a natural birth. No epidural. OK. That is a big ticket to get my head around. I can just about start to screw up my courage, my hear me roar, my belief in myself, my trust in my body. I will need all the positive energy I can get. From everyone in that delivery room, the world, the universe. And their dog.

It feels like my medical advisors don't think I can do this. I feel I have to prove to them that I can do it. It makes the mountain seem bigger. And I know they will be looking for the first sign to whisk me into surgery. Now that I understand how good it is for both mom and baby to bond and experience the birth together, I want it. I want to be there.

I have 10 weeks to get my head, heart and body ready. To dissipate my feelings of discouragement, to deeply connect to myself, to gather my resources, to lean into trust, to lean into myself. To trust that what will happen will happen. I just want the choice to try. And the professional help & support to try.

I think this reason alone may be why I went to Leadership last year. I have found my new quest. If this doesn't call me forth, nothing will.

cheating on you

2009-07-24T12:58:00.005+01:00

Did you know I started to write on the Life Club blog?

Nina, the founder, was generous in inviting other writers to plop their 2 cents in for our Life Club universe of readers.

And since I seem to have ceased to have a Non Pregnancy Related thought for my own blog, I love the chance to write about life changes, coaching, leadership and the more meaty, brain related things on that one.

Have a look, read all about it. See I am more than just a pretty belly and a hormone addled mind.

happiness is ...

2009-07-15T21:43:00.008+01:00

crawling into bed at 9:30 with your husband, each with your books
silky PJ bottoms
open windows with cool breeze
big tumblers of water on hand
bonus scan of wee boy who is measuring 100% average/normal
wireless connection
1/2 way through Orange Fiction prize winner
2 new amazon birth books on deck
leisure
all we need is the warm puppy

brain dump

2009-07-12T17:03:00.009+01:00

This happens to me all the time.

When something big is coming up -- like a move, a big trip, getting married, or perhaps giving birth-- I tend to hyper list. Scraps of paper. Random thinking. A bit skatty and ping pongy.

So indulge me as I dump the contents of my head to get it out.

To doula or not to doula. Must find the right doula
Do I need a new nightgown for the hospital?
One of my friends has her hospital bag packed already, should I?
When will my remaining clothes totally stop fitting?
Who knew you could bring music and snacks to the hospital? This opens up another whole group of lists
Must buy clock radio for the guest room for the Tour of Guests 2009
Summer soups - not ones serves cold ... hmmm
Wow, I need a pedicure
I wish we had Target - I need new comfy pants I can go out in public in
Pre-Tastic podcasts are great and I can't stop listening to them
Do you tell insurance people when you have a baby? When?
Does the UK have tax deductions like the US?
Wouldn't it be nice if I had a "go-to" group of easy recipes for my guests when then come -- for both pre and post baby?
Why do US people seem so much more upbeat about pregnancy than UK? (pregtastic podcasts vs. NCT DVD and info)
I really don't feel like cooking
Can't stop doing laundry
Glucose Tolerance Test Wednesday -- ugh hope I don't have Gestational Diabetes. That would suck
When am I going to start thinking about things other than pregnancy and babies? I am boring even myself.
Mark is cute when he is covered in paint. When WILL he be finished???
Am I gonna have a baby shower?
gotta pee
Maybe getting a cleaner every other week during MAT leave is a good idea
I wish we had a car so I could go shopping today
When will the birth books from Amazon come?
The pile of baby things in the office looks sad and, well, piled. I can't wait to put things in their place
I miss drinking
What is my Birth Plan? Low dose/patient controlled epidural/no episiotomy/calm environment. not too many people/can do attitude/reassurance/sorry of I swear at you/whoosh- here's the baby/please
Stairs are hard. 55 to our flat is becoming an expedition
When do I send in my Maternity Allowance form?
Am I eating too much peanut butter toast?
No good movies out
Is the baby room gonna be too baby-ish and bug me?
gotta pee
mmmm, peanut butter toast

home alone

2009-07-10T20:19:00.005+01:00

Mark is out tonight and I have Friday night All To Myself.
Delicious and solo.

No matter how much you love someone and their company, there is something indescribably lovely about being in one's own company.

No chat. No discussion. Channel surfing without comment. King of Queens reruns. Daal for dinner. (It would have been nachos, but that would have required going to the store!) Maybe a bath and the library book.

Not that Any of those things above are un-doable with Mark here, it is somehow more yummy occasionally by myself.

Nice to fly solo once in a while.

And how can I miss you if you never go away?

The really nice this is that after a night on my own, I'll be ready for him again.

da belly

2009-07-07T20:13:00.005+01:00

OK, I am feeling brave enough and preggo enough to share these. And perhaps it is cultural, but no strangers have come up to me to touch my belly. Perhaps it is because many of the lassies here look like they have Iron Bru and sausage roll babies growing and it is too hard to tell if a gal is with child or with lunch.

If it looks like I am sweaty and possibly annoyed, it is because I am. (Mark & I had a bit of an awkward/dissatisfying photo shoot. "Turn SIDEWAYS" "I AM!" "Put your hand down" "I am hot" "JUST TAKE THE PICTURE") Sigh. He is a a better builder than photographer, which is OK by me.

Note, my the NON wedding ring on my marriage finger.
Oh yeah, sausage hands.

Onward and outward!

mommyblogger madness

2009-07-01T20:11:00.007+01:00

Thanks to Mary J, I have been reading Sleep is for the Weak -- a compilation of the 'best of the mommybloggers'.

Now I have been blogging near 5 years and I must admit... I don't read many of my own, just a few friends who have recently dipped into their own writing. What have I been missing?!

I was unaware of the GINORMOUS outpouring from women who are new mothers. They. Are. Everywhere. Many many blogs are written by smart and funny women (and a few men) who are adapting to parenthood and relaying their experiences with the world. Great writing. And truth telling.

This book collects just some of the stories of parenthood -- covering old chestnuts like sleep deprivation, poop and pee, balancing life and work, stress, body changes, etc.

It is Great. And Alarming.

I admit I have been very very chill this last 6 months of being pregnant for the most part. Once I stopped feeling like I had a monster case of malaise, I just felt like regular me with increasingly tighter pants. I have had only a few overly emotional and (only) slightly irrational outbursts. (Never tell me I am over-reacting to something, especially when I am over reacting!)

But now I am in the 3rd and final trimester, things are starting to get more, real.

As time is ticking, the belly growing, moving, gurgling, and I am getting closer to the End Game, I realise that my LALALALAEVERYTHINGISFINEANDNORMAL way of being is going to end.

I see (loud/crying/whining) kids with harangued mothers and I think YUCK! I realise I stop seeing women and I see Mothers. I take mental inventory of things kids are doing and vow piously "THAT will not be allowed." Or, "He WON'T be eating/drinking/sitting/screaming/yelling/like THAT."

So these stories of parenthood and all of its trials and stress and confusion and freak out are all written with humour and humility. And Reality.

It is a Reality (which needs a capital R) which I have not yet quite accepted will actually happen yet. Being The Mother, much like Giving Birth remain Out There and Far. And Theoretical.

While it is a treat to read these cleverly written stories, they are kind of freaking me out. I know that sleep will be slippery and not normal. That going out with a baby into the world will require Gear, Patience, and Stamina. That my world will shrink and grow in a way I can't understand yet. That breastfeeding and diaper/nappy changing will be all consuming. I have no illusions that it will be easy or really All Fun. Certainly some of it will be. And some won't. AND It is all out there waiting.

But somehow now, in my innocent not knowing, reading these tales it is killing my last months of unclogged and first person singular thinking. And it is scaring me. I like my ignorance a little.

Perhaps when I am in the thick of my own real life When He is Here adventure I will appreciate them more. Certainly relate to them and admire the ability to tell the story. Or better yet, write about them myself to give perspective, lightness, humility and witness to my own experience.

Heck, what's one more mommyblogger to add to the list.

VIPP

2009-06-21T11:42:00.006+01:00

I like being a pregnant person. (And no, that is not my stomach up there. I am holding out on those kinds of photos until there is no shadow of a doubt it is Baby Not Burgers)

People are nice to you.
They care about how you are doing. And mean it.
They think being round is Cute. For Once.
Resting is important and excused
People squeal when they see you
And are really genuinely excited for you
You get to buy big clothes
You no longer need to (or can) hold your gut in
Not seeing your feet is comical, not tragic
Looking good is secondary, OK, tertiary, to feeling good
Asking for help comes really easily
It matches my already advanced need for quiet time and naps and comfy bottoms

So yes, it suits. I love the attention. I love my thick hair and strong nails. I love the kicks and the somersaults. I love Mark talking to my tummy. I have a few physical niggles, but not bad. I feel good. And Special. Because I am growing a person.

What's going to happen after the boy comes? Will I get any attention? Will I care? Is this the ultimate test of being a Grown Up? It is no longer about you -- and that is OK? Does the maternal love kick in and all that matters is the Baby?

Being a Very Important Pregnant Person is lovely. I look forward to seeing if I can give up the crown graciously to my new Prince.

taking pictures

2009-06-16T13:20:00.005+01:00

You know how when you are on holiday or at an important party with all your friends and you really want to capture the moments for your memory bank, but you are so busy ENJOYING the moments that stopping to break out of it and photograph it feels wrong?

That is kinda how I have been feeling about this particular time of pregnancy. I know I am going to want to remember little things, what I am feeling, what steps we are taking to get ready, what is happening, but I kind of can't be arsed.

Is that weird? It is like I am so happy In It that I don't want to break the spell to look at things more closely or record them.

This does not bode well for me keeping baby journals, does it. I find I am getting lazier about those kinds of things. We still haven't ordered (shhhh) our Cambridge wedding photos from 3 years ago. Nor have we really put our DC wedding ones in any kind of album.

All the baby stuff I have -- maternity papers, stuff from the doctor, etc. are shoved into a blue folder named "Baby". I have not organized anything official. The few things we have bought are sitting piled up in the office. Unsorted. Un -cooed about.

I haven't really gotten a jones to shop for small adorable things. Or large and practical ones either.

I kind of want to just read novels and sleep and go for walks. The End.

Lexie put it nicely -- that I am providing a House. A safe shelter that is constant and stable and not too hot and not too cool and is sturdy and quiet. Nothing too jiggley. No sudden movements.

Somehow that gives me a little more permission to be quiet about it all. Be a Safe House.

Perhaps I wake up a bit more to be more conscious about what kind of House I am and pay a bit more attention to the inner workings.

As soon as I take one more nap.

Fame! (I'm gonna live 4ever. I'm gonna learn how to fly!)

2009-05-25T22:29:00.007+01:00

At least for the day! Dig my article about Life Clubs in today's Scotland's Daily Record.
A giant photo of me and my name SEVERAL times feels weird. And nice.

I recall that I also really SAID all those things but they didn't sound nearly so precious at the time. Nor do I remember trying to sound British. (Rubbish, Brilliant, Have A Go) Do I really talk like that when I am trying to fit in?

Well it is a good day for the Scots as they now know that we exist!

Too bad there is no mention as to how to attend! (http://www.lifeclubs.co.uk/!)

P.S. Look how LONG my hair is!

hard labour

2009-05-16T19:15:00.009+01:00

Mark's that is.

As Mark is spending his 4th weekend eyeball deep in drilling and sawing and pounding and earning blood blisters, I sit idly by with offers of occasional cups of tea and making good on my promises of a good meal when the day is done.

He is seriously going to TOWN. Building from scratch:

a walk in 'cupboard' for all manner of tools and buckets, and hide able cleaning junk
a wardrobe
and is now installing new wooded worktops/counters in the kitchen.

I am amazed at his hard work, his perfectionism, his tireless cheer and lack of moaning, even when he incurs minor cuts, scrapes and falls into bed exhausted.

I sometimes feel a little guilty that I am not really helping. Or Helping At All. I mean, this is my baby's room and my house too. Shouldn't I be helping? No, he claims. Honestly, I do love my pregnancy excuse for not lifting things or holding stuff. But I am seriously Not Needed for this project. Not for the Figuring it Out. The Decisions of How. The Buying of the Materials. The Clean Up of the Mess. And I am so grateful.

He treats this as his job. While mine is to take a nap. How did I get so lucky?

I feel so honoured and a little pampered as he rubs MY hands after a day of hard work.

I can really learn some lessons from him to keep going and see the big picture of how things will look. Not get hung up when things go slightly wrong. Be creative in the approach. Have the right tools. Get help when you need it.

Perhaps this is his version of nesting to get ready for the little one. And this is his labour. Mine after all, will come in 4.5 months. And may involve a little more than a blood blister. And I'll get pain meds.

What is really true is that this, Mark's labour, is no less a labour of love.

beauty in my window

2009-05-11T18:27:00.002+01:00

wee getaway to Isle of Gigha (pronounced gee- aa)

2009-05-02T18:06:00.005+01:00

nine (and three)

2009-04-29T04:55:00.004+01:00

Celebrating nine years of togetherness today. Nine feels like a hefty number. Longer than grade school. Nearly a decade. Past any 7 year itches and headed into double digits.

And we are also celebrating three years of being married to each other too. (Near to the day we met too!)

Hard to believe it has only been that long. And that it has been that long. We reviewed the places we have lived and the jobs and phases each of us has been through. And my move to the UK and how seamlessly the rest worked out. A lovely walk through the memory.

Who knew that fateful Happy Hour for LW's birthday at Sequioa in 2000 would change the very course of my life. And the cheeky English boy whose original claim to fame was that he insulted my sister's hair would worm his way into my very soul and enrich it in ways I never dreamed.

So yes, today we celebrate. And I celebrate my very own version of personal happiness.

And love.

additional movements

2009-04-27T17:37:00.004+01:00

1) Giant amounts of long and skinny timber and wood and various building bits and bobs arrived at our flat this morning
2) This means Mark can get cracking on building a cupboard/closet with a door for all the tool crap
3) And a closet for the wee babe
4) And he also ordered new (against my wishes grr) new worktops for the kitchen (we need ANOTHER PROJECT??)
5) And await a new sink so we can use the dryer in the kitchen
6) I made a chocolate cake (which looks nothing like the photo. Mine is 100% Betty Crocker. And crooked)
7) I get up 2x a night for bathroom breaks
8) Newly sprouting back pain
9) Survived going to Glasgow's Baby Show where I saw many things I never want
10)Now sporting new (too much info?) maternity brassiere and belly band, which is like a big tube top that you wear on your hips to disguise that you can't button your pants. (Where has this invention BEEN?)

begin the begin

2009-04-24T10:06:00.005+01:00

We have a perfect spare room that has been our (on a good day) 'Multi Purpose' room since we moved. Let me be clear. It is really the Junk room.

3 bikes, the (in use!) tumble dryer, steam cleaner (Mark is in love with it), electric fan, space heater, giant tool storage, xmas decorations, 5 suitcases, hundreds of bits of wood and random (to me) scraps of things Mark needs when he is building/fixing something, tile cutter, vacuum cleaner, 3 tennis rackets and other various unnameable detritus. It is the room Mark uses for all cutting, sawing, building and tool things. Filthy. Cluttered. Need to Keep the Door Closed.

This. This room. With all that. Is to be the baby room.

Sigh.

With my deep ignorance (OK, disdain) of all things DIY. I could not marry my image of a sweet and clean and safe and serene baby room with this ... place.

Mark, my dear dear, knew otherwise. And has been sketching and planning, and measuring and head scratching on how to store, declutter, or otherwise account for all of these things in our life and flat while making this the room we want. Bless him, for that is just the kind of thing that makes me want to pull all the covers over my head. (Can the baby just sleep in the sock drawer?)

So last weekend, we began.

We have a loft, which for you North Americans is called an attic. Great. But we also have like 16 foot ceilings and a 15 foot ladder. and the hatch for the loft is little. And in the bathroom.

So Mark BRAVELY and inexplicably hatched the brain child to Build A Better Loft Hatch. In the "baby room". Which meant Creating A Hole In the Ceiling. On Purpose.

This, I could not get my head around. How? What do you mean? Do you know HOW to? Do you need to call your Dad? Look online?

OH, I should know by now, that Mark figures things out.

2 days later, and 8 million times filthier, (Our building is like 200 years old and had that much soot and dirt up there) We have a new hole. And it looks like it should. And we managed to off load an old TV, old desk chair to new homes and chucked MANY of the offending cluttering things up into the new storage of UP There. Where I predict we will leave everything until we move again.

Unfortunately, we also acquired a Near Hole. In the hallway. Where Mark's foot slipped off the beam and crunched into the ceiling.

So the room is not done. It will require building a new cupboard for the tools. And a new wardrobe/closet for the kid. And a new sink for the kitchen. (Sigh, so we can move the dryer. don't even ask) And paint. (The walls now being Dirt Coloured)

And all the baby furniture and accouterments.

And, well, a baby.

But. We. Have. Begun.

internal pacing

2009-04-15T14:25:00.003+01:00

So, here I am, almost 16 weeks into this gig of pregnancy. Nothing to "do" about it except take care of myself. Doing all the proscribed 'right' things -- no booze, caffeine, nitrates, raw things, medications, soft cheese, etc. Lots of sleeping, lots of walking, started prenatal yoga.

CHECK. CHECK. CHECK.

And we have LOADS of time before we really have to have things done and dusted, baby room-wise.

So, yay for me! TIME! Freedom! Things I hear are mighty scarce once one becomes a new parent. Never to sleep as soundly again. I so so so get that. So we have 2 mini trips planned. And see movies. And go out into the world. And be loud.

So why do I not feel really free? I feel like I am pacing inside. Preoccupied. Now that I am latched on firmly to the notion of growing a person and then becoming a mother to the person, most other things seem to pale a bit. It is like knowing you have a REALLY BIG party to go to and you are excited and nervous and wonder what it will be like. And it isn't for another 5 months.

It is the preparty equivalent of obsessing about What to Wear and Over Applying Lipstick.

I think I need some living to kick me into realizing that this is it.

I need to get out of my navel. The baby will grow without my furrowed brow and one track mind.

Time for those trips away to change up the scenery and expand my mind along with my belly!

current benefits and downsides

2009-04-07T14:19:00.005+01:00

overwhelming

2009-04-05T20:24:00.003+01:00

So, we went to do a little "perusing" of nursery furniture today at John Lewis. You know, Looking.

And as we viewed the 1 zillion different kind of prams (that is stroller to you US folks) and cribs v moses baskets, v cots, v everything else, I felt a shift. No not in there, but in our perception.

Mark was taking the iCandy Transportation System for a spin down the store aisle and I think it hit us both simultaneously that soon we would be Needing These Things. Using These Things. As Parents.

It kind of felt like we were posing. New kids in the Parenthood store. Not really knowing what we are looking at. Or what questions to ask.

I guess we are still feeling sometimes like maybe I just had a big lunch and am crabby and need bigger jeans. I forget that I am Really Pregnant. Or, moreover, we will eventually *hopefully* have a kid at the end of this funny experiment.

More scans and a few tests ought to hammer it home. As does my heartburn and giant gut. And lack of caffeine. And huffing and puffing as we head up the last of our 2 flights of stairs to our flat. (the last 5 steps are a doozey)

The exciting part is starting and that is, well, exciting. Thinking about the colors and the cute onesies, and cute toys. And I am hoping the incredulous and wonder stays a bit longer. It is still fun to be naive. I know it won't be easy. At All. I hold no illusions of that. So for now, the dreamy state feels like being engaged. No need to worry about the marriage yet.

returning

2009-04-01T10:23:00.007+01:00

Yes. I have not been blogging.

Thank you for noticing! And not for lack of happenings...

Went to Canada to help train new hosts for Life Club Shalom Village!
Played in Elora with Chris & Dave & Gary
Saw my parents and Aunt Dot in WI
Been rocking my Glasgow Life Club
Coaching my regular peeps

But mostly, what has been taking up most of my time, psychic energy and all my physical and mental and emotional real estate has been ...

Sleeping
Feeling like I was run over by a truck
Napping
Padding around in soft clothes eating cereal
Being on the edge of barfing

Because, yes, many of you know and if you don't you may have surmised, I am pregnant!

I found out on my actual birthday and my first trimester was consumed with my very own self. I know I could have been blogging about all the other nice things happening, but since I knew I couldn't go public, I created a self imposed gag order.

Cat outta the bag. I am almost 14 weeks along the way, feeling more like myself and starting to have the news really take purchase in my brain. It is time to get excited! Which we are. In batches between slight freak out and wonderment.

Taking it all in stages and not at the point where I can watch any Discovery Channel "Extreme Labor" or "Baby Stories" yet because the end game still makes me woozy. For now I am happy to stay awake all day, have an appetite, go out into the world and be active, and watch my belly grow.

I promise not to make this blog all about pregnancy nay about parenthood.

I hope it, as I, remain still my own person with a brain and interests and things to say.

Now just Plus One. Perhaps with more insight.

snow globe

2009-02-02T17:09:00.008Z

I know so MANY people are so over the whole snow thing. Novelty worn right on off. I mean, it is February already and snow has been around for 3 months for most folks. Shoveling, cold, wet, traffic issues, travel disruptions, etc ...

Here in the UK cities we get a sprinkling here and there, but nothing that sticks or crunches under one's feet.

But today was different.

It was sticking. And really coming down from all angles. Giant, fluffy cotton balls. It looked like we were in the middle of a snow globe that had been shaken. Hard.

So we went out to play today and enjoy the rare white world.

slide down the hill on our bums...
watch eager snowmen being made -- the ones with sticks and a bit of dirt cuz the snow isn't deep
throw snowballs ...
get wet gloves ...
admire how many other people were doing the same thing at 4 pm on a Monday
take a bite out of a fresh white, clean snow
watch Mark's face turn into a gleeful 8 year old
play!

national me day

2009-01-29T14:43:00.006Z

So tomorrow is my birthday.

And I love my birthday. I've always loved my birthday. Maybe because being the youngest of 5 kids it was the day I got to pick out my supper menu and my cake and sit at the head of the table and drink milk out of a wine glass and have my family bring me presents. And it is not all that different today. Except the milk part.

I mean, for my 30th birthday, the theme was All About Carol. I am not shy about asking for the attention I love and thrive in. I've always been really fortunate and lucky to have people who remind me that I am important in their world.

I know it sounds 1% weird, but it feels like a secret holiday for me. National Carol Day. You walk around knowing that it is YOUR day. And the shop keeper doesn't know -- or the lady at the bus stop. Over the years I have taken a bit more responsibility in making sure I like my birthday day. Planning things I want to do. Creating the day I want to have. Because face it, birthdays can be weird. You want people to remember. And you also don't want to make it a Big Deal. Very tricky place. I mean, you WANT people to want to celebrate your own national holiday and all and yet you don't want to ask them ... "please be happy I was born and tell me today."

And honestly, when it is other people's birthdays even if you really really like the people, it is never as big of a deal as when it is YOUR birthday. I like to remember the day and wish them a happy one, and all. And I hope it makes them feel like I am glad they were born. Because I am.

And mostly I am learning that while it is NICE to have other people celebrate you - it is really more important that you celebrate yourself. Hey- you lived another year here on earth -- breathing and living and loving and doing stuff... cool! And it brings your humanity right to the tippy top of your consciousness.

It is a day to feel divinely and scrumptiously human and alive. In your bones you know who you are.

And that calls for cake.

(This was one of those entries I 'wrote in my head' in the small hours. It was way more insightful at 4:30 a.m.)

turning a corner

2009-01-19T11:24:00.006Z

I watched last night's Obama Inaugural Celebration with pride and happiness. Such energy and hope and reality and heart. I loved hearing the messages from history intertwined with the music by today's stars. It was inclusive without being annoying. There was room at the table for everyone. The enthusiasm and outpouring was palatable here in my living room in Glasgow. I had the volume up. I sang along. I clapped. I got teary eyed. Shower the People. Higher Ground. This Land is Made for You and Me.

And I know I fled DC when GW was just entering his second ill-fated term. I escaped. I was GLAD to be out of America. I sometimes felt apologetic for being American here in the UK. ("Honest, no one I KNOW voted for him. Either time!")

And watching last night made all my American pride swell up. Especially in my second home of Washington DC -- where I spent 12 of my confused and major adult formative years. I felt a kin-ship of my people.

And weirdly, so did my UK label born and bred husband.

The road will be long. As President Elect Obama thanked the speakers and performers for reminding us, through song and through words, just what it is that we love about America, I too am reminded.

It may be time to come home soon.

small hours

2009-01-14T13:24:00.004Z

I've gotten into a weird (for me) habit of going to bed late. And NOT being able to fall asleep. Usually I read and then turning off the light and taking my glasses off become achievements WAY too hard to tackle and I fall into a deep pit of slumber with the light on and my glasses in my hand. (as I tell myself, "remember not to roll over on these.")

But since the holidays we've been up staying up late and consequently getting up unreasonably and embarrassingly late for a work week. Alarm ignored. No snooze. Just "off" after it blares.

But one of the great things about lying in bed trying to fall asleep or those moments of breaking into consciously when I wake up is that I keep getting these flashes of clarity. Eyes closed. Fuzzy room. Dark and Blankets. But somewhere in my mind, I am emerging.

I know I have been a particularly absent blogger. One of the reasons is that I didn't have much to say or share. And now in those small hours I am finding, nay, COMPOSING brilliant essays and insights for my blog, for my coaching web site, for client sessions. "Ah... so clear - THAT'S what I want to say!" Wonderful to have the grey matter churning out new information!

Except. Here's the rub. I can almost never remember any of it in the light of sober, caffeinated day. It is as if these glimpses of brilliance are fleeting and wispy. I want to recreate those words, those images and I come up with the big thought bubble over my head ... and it is empty.

Yeah I know what you are thinking, and it is just so unlikely that I will wake up enough to write them down. I don't even want to try that. I just want to love the clear moments I am getting. Like when you are tuning an old radio and get a faint sound of music somewhere in the crackles as you turn the knob. I just want to notice them and enjoy them. And see what sense I can make in my waking hours.

And turn up the volume.

somewhere over the ...

2009-01-12T11:28:00.003Z

I was on the phone chatting with Lex this morning and I looked outside my office window to see this beauty.

I am still excited and giddy about seeing rainbows. There were rare and often caused by spilled gas on the driveway when I grew up. Here in the UK, they are more frequent, given all the mini weather systems here and high chances for the on-off rain.

So whenever I see them I still feel really lucky. They feel magical and fleeting. And indeed this one was only out for about 5 minutes. And I got to see it.

I guess it reminds me to keep my eyes open for those glimpses of wonder in everything. Look for the beauty and the magic and I will be more likely to find them.

As I head into a new year with clean pages to fill, I want to remember to look for the Wow/Now moments of awe and look at my life with excitement and appreciation.

The pot of gold can't be far away.

greatest hits 2008

2008-12-31T05:16:00.011Z

Yep- Greatest Hits 2008!
Every year I create a list of my top hits for the year... things or people I discovered, enjoyed, saw, heard, wore, ate -- or anything that made the year memorable. I include trips, foods, friends, memories, accomplishments, and songs -- anything that was the cream of the crop for me. And, I write them down and share them with the people that helped shape my year with my gratitude.

(I have to own up that this list idea originally came from my brother Gary and I have 100% adopted it as my own. So GR Faculjak©!)

Here, in no particular order -- a long list as it was a BIG Year!

Being sung Happy Birthday by 23 new friends in 4 languages
40
pink fuzzy robe
Rumi the Sufi poet
Paris sunshine for Valentines Day
Indefinite Right to Remain Visa
UK drivers license
Let Me Fall
Salma Cafe
Lupe Pintos supply of Tex Mex staples in a dry country
Illy coffee
daily doses of Lexie
Notes from the Universe
Climb on!
14 foot ceilings
Kelvingrove Park walk
loving my marriage to Mark
eyebrow threading
quiz night at the Liquid Ship
Life purpose workshop with Hanna in Madison
Plockton
Forth Street heartbreak
home ownership
6 transatlantic flights, 1 in fancy class all bringing me to the USA
Obama
Life Clubs
real solid wood furniture and Big Momma Chair
shifting the space/intending my impact
Leadership R1, R2, R3 and R4 with the Porcupine Tribe and the Kimsey-Houses
kitchen radio
Mother Tree
DIY Dynamo Mark
Working fireplace
Northern California
Florida sunshine in May with good peeps
Stay

THANK YOU FOR BEING A PART OF MY 2008!!!

blogging lameness

2008-12-10T20:10:00.003Z

Yeah. Not much action here lately.

Since I have been back from R4, I realise I have kind of gone south and AWOL, blogging-wise.

Not sure if it is the sheer delight to be Not Going Anywhere for a while.

Or completing the Doing Hard Things and Growing as a Leader, which has wonderfully captured my attention for the last 11 months.

Or maybe since we are still a wondering about the future of Mark's continuity of income.

Or perhaps the easy throwaway updates that Facebook allows. "Carol is ... Not Updating Her Blog with anything substantial since Facebook is to easy and lazy"

But I know. Lame.

Sometimes when I am avoiding thinking I think I avoid posting because it inevitably forces me to speak my truth.

So I am postponing my Smart Thinking, New Projects, Forward March mentality until the nice 2009.

Beauty and order. Christmas and cozies. Home and hearth. Visitors and fun.

These are my current priorities. And I hope that from them, from that, the rest will follow.

FIRE!

2008-12-10T18:07:00.000Z

newly swept

fantasticly smoke free peet and coal burning

YUM

R4

2008-11-19T14:00:00.004Z

And yes. I am back from the final retreat for Leadership.
And yes, here's my initial greatest hits for the week.
Expect the impact to come!

holding multiple screens

popcorn ... doritos ... cheetos ... twizzlers ... hummus TOSS

the feast of our quests

passing the baton

of course

creating the colour/intended impact

silence serving

claim new territory and aliveness

Porcupine Launch Party

reading the level 3

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Point the conversation

Gather and gather and gather all the FEAR ... AND STEP

stake as leader

Big L leader

dance in the paradox between action and learning

raise the bar

if you aren't stepping through fear you are at small L leadership

love letters

be orange to create green

scavenger hunt in the real world

elders

if you know how it looks you are following

celebrate and inspire

R Fourians

when not on stake you are dying a little

love tunnel

the grandfather tree (with the sprites)

change the conversation from fear to possibility

beacons of light

what takes you out of the model?

sleevies

locking in the learning for R1, R2, R3 and R4

accountability partners

when at level 1, you have no stake

bringing the light

dire consequences

the keys to our leadership

Pat and Jennifer stepping into coffee and breakfast leadership

Julie Andrews point

driving up the mountain

intention for the tribe

move from learner to practitioner

falling off and on the model

what's next for me as a leader?

Porcupine flag

leaving 'launched'

molecules grounded

Notes from the universe

2008-10-23T11:52:00.008+01:00

My friend Chole forwarded this note she got from "the Universe"

You can imagine how jealous I was. After all, it seems so friendly and direct to get a note from the universe -- instead of my usual vague inference of what you think the universe is telling you. Here in black and white -- actual messages!

So naturally I looked into how I could get in on the deal.

Indeed, Notes from the Universe is the invention of Mike Dooley, Adventurer and Founder of TUT.com , (Totally Unique Thoughts). His motto is "Thoughts become things -- make sure they are good ones." Not a bad notion.

And when you sign up for the email list, they ask you to take The Oath. Which given present circumstances (or ANY circumstances) seems to be a pretty smart thing to take on.

Indeed, I pledge YES.

living with uncertainty

2008-10-22T09:57:00.007+01:00

I know about control freakery.

Planning in your head how things "will" go. And when they don't (which of course they don't) it rocks the core of one's being. I very much used to live in that awful reality. Which is not a very easy place to live. It is uncompromising and rigid. And really not all that practical.

And over the last 10 years I have had so much practice in letting some of that go. Of being with what is. Of being with what unexpected surprise shows up. And of being with not knowing.

I look back to the DC days when we lived with the continual and cyclical threat of Mark's having to return to the UK. Every 6 months for about 3 years we worried and hand wrung. It absolutely forced me/us to appreciate Today. Now. This Moment. And This One. And This...

I have learned to enjoy Not Knowing What's Next. Hey- life's an adventure, right? And Door Number 3 might be the best one yet! How exciting!

I took the leap to leave the comfort of comforts and the constraints of my same same same for 10 years life in DC for 1000% Not Knowing. Country. Relationship. New Career. And WOW, the gifts that keep on giving on that one.

We sat through Not Knowing about Mark's BT redundancy. For months!

We moved 3 times - each to an entirely new city and even to another country. Not Knowing.

And in coaching -- myself, others, leadership - - I have really learned that one can prepare - but never *Plan*. (thank you for that lesson, Karen Kimsey House). It doesn't allow for other stuff to show up. The unexpected. The rich. The whatever is there. It is a bit of the create from nothing stuff. It is truth of the moment.

And now we are again in the pot stewing. What will happen with Mark's job...

Haven't I been practicing? Haven't I gotten the lesson of being loose and waiting for the gift and appreciating the moment of today?

I wonder what I haven't quite let go of. What's new here for me to absorb and get.

Because after all those lessons, I was really pretty excited for a little chance to be certain. To Know. And to Plan.

The world at large feels like they are waiting on tenterhooks with me. (Which I recently learned is not spelled tenderhooks -- which actually feels more appropriate and true to scale.)

Economies gone a flooey. Markets utterly turned upside down. Rugs swept from under thousands of feet.

Lot of uncertainty.

Yet we wake, we eat, we work, we love, we shop, we plan. We carry on.

Not Knowing.

And what I am now resting my head on are things I am certain about. And I am finding great comfort in that.

charmed in Plockton

2008-10-18T12:55:00.004+01:00

Just back from 3 days away up in the real highlands... and stayed in quintessentially charming small hamlet called Plockton, which is (apparently) famous for filming Hamish Macbeth.

Very friendly, stunning beauty, colourful locals and delicious food. We took a boat trip to see seals, drove through parts of Syke, ate like kings with all the extremely local fish, and took a brisk 5 mile walk which got us soaked.

An important reminder to breathe and be lost in nature and in each other's good company.

my alter ego

2008-10-12T19:25:00.001+01:00

(Or so sez my oh-so-reliable Facebook quiz)

So you may be a little bossy but its only because you lack the control of your awesome leadership abilities. You love to be right and clean. You are pretty and know it and some times it can get to your head but you are faithful and consistent every time. Some may say your crabby and mean and this may be something you wish to work on in the future.

Oh how true ...

a day out in Largs

2008-10-06T09:37:00.004+01:00

Largs- it feels like it is missing a syllable in its name. (Largstown? Largston? Largshire?)

But we took a wee train trip there Sunday to celebrate the miracle of All Day Sunshine in the west of Scotland. Small town custom built for kids playing, dogs running, couples and old people strolling, ice cream licking, and sea gazing. It is amazing that in a little over an hour's time out of Glasgow, you can be in a very un-urban world. Is reassuring.

Four years

2008-10-04T12:15:00.006+01:00

I just looked at the calendar. Four years ago to the DAY I arrived in the UK.

I remember with painful clarity my harrowed plea at the immigration desk at Heathrow.
My whole life was ahead of me. The new life I chose.

And since then, I've worked for that life.

New career doing something I am compelled to do, which feels so right.
Marriage to the man I love and was compelled to never give up on, which feels so right.

I count my blessings today and give myself a bit of a pat on the back. I know how hard it was to get here. And I also know how easy it was too.

And today, Mark & I have the Big Flip charts out ... plotting our course and dreaming and conjuring up what's next.

Anything still seems possible.