Motherhood Evolves Over Time

Firstly – damn its been a minute. I hardly had time to eat over the past year, let alone blog. But that’s all changing because…well because I’m forcing it too. Today my self care was pumpkin carving with my kid. #takethattime #mentalhealth #emotionalclarity

Secondly. This motherhood stuff is not for the weak. With a now four year old (oh I know, time is moving) I’m struggling with the fine line between independence and respect. Given today’s climate, the #MeToo movement, and the change in focus from what constitutes a perfect childhood to something more feasible and realistic, I want to raise a badass woman. Like many other moms out there, I’m struggling with the best balance. How many “no’s” do you allow? What kind of shenanigans both doing and saying (that was rude mom you’re losing TV time), and reverse psychology do you permit before you make it clear that your child is moving into disrespectful territory.

For me, the hardest part of the last few weeks is watching this reasonably defiant (child development anyone) behavior bleed from our home to every avenue in which my child feels safe – meaning school. Sometimes I feel like her teacher is gonna put me on the wall when I get there! Gone are the days where my most pressing worry was getting her to sleep in her room – I’ll take that any day!

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t all the time. She still uses manners, and can be downright angelic most days. But the frequency of the intentional not listening, and saying no, and I don’t want to do that (even though you did it this exact way yesterday) both at home and at school has me questioning my parenting techniques.

No gimmicks and no advice. Just some pure truth for your Thursday evening. In speaking my truth, I’m hoping to make room in my heart and head for patience, acceptance, and solutions.

Deep breaths,

Dynisha

Have Not, Want Not

Who the hell said its better to have loved than not or however that stupid quote goes? No you sap, it’s better to not know what you’re missing out on! I swear to goodness, I was better off before I got into a longer term relationship. 

If I wanted to cuddle I had siblings, or a very comfy body pillow. If I needed a back rub I went to my favorite masseuse. If I needed dinner companionship, there were a few select people I could call for a good time (hah). 

Now everything is a comparison. The worst part is, it’s not even the person. It’s the idea of what I no longer have the ability to do. 

With a significant other, you always have a dinner/movie/target run/lets get out of the house partner without much notice and fuss. (Not saying that my baby doesn’t provide that but she takes a lot of packing and planning around naps etc so it’s definitely NOT fuss free). 

With a significant other you have a steady presence. Need someone to sacrifice to an angry ghost in your house? You have somebody handy. Need help with that spider/home repair/remotes too far/feed me problem? No big deal there they are! (Kayree doesn’t quite have the bringing the remote to mama routine down yet 😉) 

So all that being said. I miss NOT KNOWING. I miss not missing other (adult) presence. I would in fact be better off if I had went without, then being in a state of limbo while I wait for the next one – and by that I mean constantly fight against the desire to have another long term relationship. (Look where the first one got!) 

A Wandering Mind Brought to You by Insomnia

I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Partly thanks to Kindle Unlimited, and mostly due to insomnia. Even when my daughter goes to sleep relatively early, and I get a chance to clean up, take a shower, get stuff together for the next day – I find it hard to sleep. So I read. I like to read young adult fiction. I like to read science fiction. I also like paranormal series. Not that erotica stuff, the regular stories just with witches and zombies and stuff. 

Some small part of me wants to be writing too. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Lately I’ve only had one story to tell, and I can’t bring myself to do it. How do I put it all out there, how do I fill that white space with all of these feelings? I mean I know how – write it down duh. I don’t want to rip that band-aid off yet. 

Then part of me wants to do some school work. I’m only two classes from a Master’s…that doesn’t make homework any more appealing. Why am I not more motivated, more interested? Oh wait, because it’s an economics class. Which means math. Which I hate. So yes everything gets done and it’s quality work but I definitely wait until the last minute. 

A small part of me wants to go and hang out more than I do. My friends karaoke on Mondays. There’s a slew of movies I want to see that I haven’t yet (Avengers anyone?). Pitch Perfect 2 as well. Grab a beer, have a burger, have some conversation where the other person is saying words that make sense – no offense baby girl. 

I guess what it really boils down to is time. I don’t have the time to do anything other than work, baby girl and school. And when I do, all I want to do is watch movies with meaning, listen to sad R&B, and read about love that I envy – with a grain of salt. 

When you’re old Markl all you want to do is sit around and look at the scenery.

So what do you do when you’re soul has aged past your outsides? Let me just turn on the Lauryn Hill pandora….

My baby’s first birthday.

Perhaps you’ve heard the story and maybe you haven’t. In any case here it goes. 

My pregnancy was super easy. No morning sickness, I only gained 15 pounds (easy enough when you start out having to watch what you’re eating) basically my body took it like a champ. Other than the back pain and the last month and a half having  acid reflux – those things weren’t fun. And you know (Or maybe you don’t), having  another little person in your body is a very weird experience and I never quite got used to feeling her moving around. On May 17th of 2014, we were at a graduation party, eating good food and hanging out. I got a weird feeling in my tummy that night. I slept too well. Usually she was flipping around or at least kicking me awake a couple times per night. So I woke up and pushed her around a bit. And when I say pushed I mean it. She didn’t respond. I told her dad we needed to head to the hospital because I couldn’t remember the last time I felt her move. 

Of course we’re both scared. I’m pretty sure we went in the same clothes we slept in or maybe we threw on sweats. Don’t remember. I do remember driving to St. Luke’s downtown and trying not to cry. Trying to stay calm. Trying to keep positive thoughts in my mind. I called my mom on the way. We park and ultimately decide to go to the ER. They wheel me up (mandatory I guess) to the birthing floor, I fill out some paperwork and we wait a short time. Long story short they hook me up to a monitor, and there’s her heartbeat. I’ve never felt such relief in my life. Short lived relief because not 20 minutes later the nurse comes in and says the doctor on call was watching my monitor, and the contractions  are cutting off her oxygen. Prep for emergency C-section. 

The Oxygen mask is on, IVs in my arms, epidural in the back (so uncomfortable) and I’m on the table before it even crosses my mind that this wasn’t how I imagined it happening. The drugs, the curtain, the table shaking as they manhandled my cut open tummy. I’ll spare you any graphics. 

And then this yellow, slimy little thing is being held over the curtain with her scrunched up little face, crying. And I remember a little goop falling off her and thinking oh, there she is! Seriously what kind of first thought is that?! And as they’re sewing me up the NICU nurse is saying how HE is doing good and her dad has to reassure me as I begin hyperventilating that SHE is beautiful and fine and amazing. 

And then I don’t remember anything until I’m waking up in the room and telling someone (my mom I think) that my arms are fine and I want to hold her. How surreal it was having this little baby placed in my arms, knowing logically that she was mine and had just been pulled out of me into the world, but I just couldn’t connect the dots (damn drugs) until later that night when she kept waking up to eat. And eat. And eat. I wasn’t bothered one bit. Matter fact I wanted to just hold her and look at her. 

Needless to say after all of that hub bub she was healthy and we took her home two days later. And now it’s been an entire year. I can’t imagine BEING something more challenging, more rewarding, or more frustrating. I can’t imagine crying more over the silliest things, grinning harder at her triumphs, being more protective, loving anything or anyone more fiercely. 

Kayree Lashell you are the best thing, the brightest light, the happiest smile, the most upbeat, the sassiest, and the most loved little girl in this whole world. 

Here’s to the first year! 

   
                     
              

You’re Doing It Wrong

Have you ever wondered why we have the milestones in life that we do? What I mean by that is, why does “normal” consist of marriage, children, balanced social life and career life? I think it says something about human society today that we describe this situation as the ideal.

Are you abnormal if you choose not to get married? Have you ever had a seasoned aunt or uncle, coworker or friend tell you that you’re doing it wrong? Relationships I mean. I see on social media all the time this idea that we are (after our mid-twenties) dating for marriage. Why? Why is it that if you are content to be with someone long term, or if you don’t want that for yourself at all – no long term commitments of any kind – you are outside of normal. You’re doing it wrong. And on the flip side if you choose to marry earlier than convention dictates, you’re also abnormal. It’ll never last, you haven’t even loved yourself long enough to love another, puppy love never makes it out of the first year etc etc. WHO CAME UP WITH THESE NORMS? and why do we continue to let one idea of right guide our lives.

Are you missing out if you don’t have kids? As if explaining yourself to your own parents isn’t enough, feel free to explain your decision to strangers that you meet every day. With all of the talk of what a fit parent is, why are we so set that everyone procreate? To be honest I know a few people I wish hadn’t popped children out for one reason or another. Should we force married couples to have kids? While we don’t shut them in rooms and lock the door until we hear the headboard banging, there is the social pressure, and is that enough to break down the no kid resolve – I would argue YES in some cases. What about those who adopt, who are waiting until they’ve had their adventures? We are so quick to judge other situations when we should probably (DEFINITELY) just worry about what is best for ourselves.

Not to say that some people are wrong for wanting to walk down a more traditional path – by all means follow the path that you feel the most comfortable with – just don’t criticize those whose path is early, or late, or curved, or short. There are no requirements for life, each person has to discover it for themselves. And if that leads you to marriage, if that leads you to children, and  one career, and divorce, and marriage two or three, or no marriage, or no kids, or twenty odd jobs – walk it with your chin up.

At the same time that society shouldn’t dictate your life path, don’t dictate the paths of others. Allow your friends, your family, your best friend, and play cousin to do the same thing. Allow them to discover their own way. It’s hard, I know!  It’s so hard with the constant barrage of “You’re Doing It Wrong” which comes not only from our trusted circle but also from what we read, watch, listen to, work in and around, play in – it’s everywhere.

Can we overcome “social norms” that are little more than out of date, bossy, dictations passed down from an out of touch model of life. Just food for thought.

Spring and Sunshine – Don’t Fight It!

Do you ever get the feeling that humans are hardwired to see a little sun, feel a little warmth and want nothing more but to lay out in it for hours on end, shunning any and all responsibilities and basic biological needs? Good, I knew I wasn’t the only one. I bet the term “senioritis” doesn’t come from being burnt out on school, it comes from wanting to do everything else – spring comes around and all of the sudden BAM! No one wants to work, no one wants to sit inside.

How do you combat it? Well in my opinion why SHOULD you combat it. We just came out of four (or more depending on where you live) months of gray, gloomy winter weather. Go outside and enjoy. Guaranteed if you give in for the first few days rather than fight it for weeks, it’ll be easier to get over. Check out this article I found on sunshine and mood.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/10/06/sunshine-happiness-behavior-mood_n_4014477.html

And if the HuffPost doesn’t do it for you, here’s another one:

http://life.gaiam.com/article/how-does-sunlight-impact-your-mood

Basically what I’m saying is, I plan on taking my daughter out and enjoying the weather this weekend! I hope you do too.

Finding the Balence.

I am struggling. It’s hard making this transition to later hours. We had our routine down and I’m starting to wonder if giving up that solid and familiar routine was selfish. I moved everything up so that I would have more time with her at the end of the day. Bad idea. Going to bed later just makes her harder to get to sleep. Which means crying. Which means tired mama. 

I’m struggling with more than just a new routine. I’m struggling to take care of myself. I spend way less time on my hobbies, and when I do the guilt is overwhelming. Sometimes on the weekends I go entire days without eating (never on purpose), or I find I didn’t shower, or I’ve had to pee for hours. Some nights I’m scrambling to get my homework done before she wakes up again, because lately she’s been sleeping terribly. I love writing but I never have time. I sacrifice sleep to read as it is – and when it’s a good book I don’t complain! 

I know that I need to take care of me, to take care of her – but I am struggling to find the Balence. And even worse sometimes I’m struggling to care enough to do things for myself, like eat and go to the bathroom before I’m about to explode. 

Mostly I’m struggling between being a good mom and maintaining my own sanity. 

How Do You Build Yourself Back Up?

The age old situation: you’ve gone through something life changing, something painful and now you’re ready – after each of the other stages – to accept and move forward. How do you do that without rehashing what happened?

Anytime I’m trying to explain what I went through I find myself using phrases like “even though this happened to me” or “despite what the other person did” and “I had a hand in this”, and while I may be taking responsibility for the role I played, I can’t help but think I got the shorter end of the stick. When you feel that way, when you feel so slighted and so disrespected by someone, or a group of people, how do you move on from that?

I can only speak from my own experiences and what advice I’ve been given. Some people say closure. Well I can tell you right now I won’t be getting that. I won’t be getting a sincere apology or a conversation where we can get our feelings out and come to a resolution. Some people say forgive. I’m having the hardest time with this because I feel as though I’m still being disrespected. How many times am I going to be expected to forgive the hurtful things? And some people say it takes a long time, a lot of soul searching, and eventually inner peace.

All of these options currently seem impossible. All I can do Is get through each day trying to be the best person I can be. I already know I will make mistakes. I’ve already said things I regret, or let words get to me more than I should have. It’s a work in progress.

What I can say is that an outlet has done wonders for me. This blog, while it may rub some people the wrong way, helps me organize my thoughts and put my feelings into perspective. It’s not private, anyone can find it; anyone can read it and quote it or try to throw it in my face. But at the end of the day, I’ve got to stop putting other people’s feelings – who could care less about my feelings – before my own.

I don’t know how I’m going to build myself back up, but I’m going to take it one step at a time.

😃

To the Baby Daddy

Dear Father of my Child,

You might be expecting this to go a certain way; perhaps you think that I’ll be bitter and blame you for everything. Maybe you expect me to be full of regret, and beg you to come back to us and make us a real family again. Maybe you’re waiting for a combination of both. And at some point in the past 8 months you would’ve been right on both counts. This letter would’ve belittled your character while simultaneously asking you to keep loving me. But not now.

On one hand I feel so very sad for you. I cry for you, because there are so many moments you have missed, ones that can never be replaced. You missed her first crawl, her first laugh, her first taste of so many things, her first babbles, and the list goes on. I suspect you’ll also miss her first steps and first real words, along with her first time being sick and her first day of real daycare. And those things, if you love her the way I think you do, will eat at you some day. You’ll never know those moments, and no matter how hard you try to justify what you were doing instead of spending precious time with our little girl, you’ll always feel guilty.

And on the flip side, I have no sympathy and little empathy for you. You’ve made it clear time and again through both words and actions that your own personal struggles are more important than her. That your own negative feelings towards me, that your ego and that your “dreams” mean that it’s okay for you to shirk off responsibility. You don’t have to provide for her, you don’t have to show her how much you care by visiting, because the end justifies the means. You can treat me however you want because that doesn’t affect how she will love you.

I beg to differ. From experience I can tell you that I love my parents differently based on the discoveries I’ve made of their character by their interactions with each other in the name of us kids.

I hope that some day, very soon, you come to realize that the best thing you can do for her doesn’t come from what physical possessions you give her (although diapers and such are greatly appreciated); no the best thing you can do for her is show her through your own actions the true love that you have for her, spend time teaching her how a dad should love his daughter.

Sincerely
Your Baby’s Mother.

Black History Month

Growing up I had an obsession with Black History. Idaho, while hardly adequate in most areas, especially lacks any in-depth teaching of Black history. So I went to the public library and did my own research, with my mom’s help. I read Incident’s in the Life of a Slave Girl, I read Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes, and I became deeply empathetic to the plight of those who had come before me. Those who marched, stood up, invented, discovered, fought for education, lost their lives so that I could read and write, so that I could dream and achieve.

When I got to junior high and high school, a few teachers had conversation in their classrooms about race – some were uncomfortable because I felt singled out (and in one class I actually was singled out) and some left me relieved because I got to speak my piece without alienating my friends and peers.

Now, as a grown woman I am less concerned with that – alienating peers that is. The time for sensitivities, the time for polite acceptance and agreeable snippets of what needs to be said has come and gone. Everyone has their passions, and one of mine has been social justice, politics and the intersection of the two. With that said, I believe that there is a conversation that we have been distracted from having, whether we are distracted by our own personal discomfort or by societal pressures to not “rock the boat”. All I can say to that is if we, as a species, had never stepped outside of our own comforts, if we hadn’t rocked boats and shot past limitations, we wouldn’t be where we are today.

Black History Month is a celebration of an – STILL to this day – oppressed version of events. There are so many stories out there that are not heard. Men and women who did great things, who solved problems, who stood up for all people’s rights, not just those of color, and did so by stepping outside of their comfort zones. It is a celebration yes, but it’s also a reminder and a challenge.

A reminder that while we have come so far, we have so far to go. A reminder that there are great men and women who regardless of color died so that we could be treated equally in all aspects of life. A challenge to continue to fight, to continue to stand up for those who are not given equal treatment legally, socially and economically. A challenge to eradicate as much as possible the idea that one person’s life means more than their neighbors.

Black History Month, I accept your challenge.