Hi my little love,
After a few days of being mostly in the present moment, I got attacked by the past and the future, all at once. I don't mean literally, although I did throw water at someone in a burst of anger and tell them in a very loud voice to get the heck out of my house. No, I was attacked by the voices in my head, and subesequently attacked others around me directly, but mostly passive-aggressively.
That's what happens, when you get older, and fear gets in the way. That's what happens to me.
People handle fear differently. Some people let it immoblize them; some people take it out in anger; others take it out in sadness. Some eat to hide fear; some drink or take drugs. People do all kinds of crazy things to avoid fear.
But me, I do a few things to avoid fear. Lately, as you know, I've cleaned out all the clutter from the major storage spaces inside the house (except the garage). Then I waited impatiently for the miracle to arrive after all this clearing.
The miracle did not come as expected - the brand new space I opened up also opened up Pandora's box of fear because too much was possible!
I've been a disaster to live with the last couple days, but your Dah-DEE in his infinite love and wisdom, figured out that I need something else - something is missing in my life. He's right - I'm missing something for me. I'm missing something that makes me want to jump out of bed in the morning and run into the day.
What was holding me back? Fear.
What am I afraid of? That is the million dollar question ending in a preposition. I am afraid that I'll fail, sure, I'm also afraid I'll succeed. What IF I start a new company and it costs me all of my savings. What IF I fail miserably. What IF I am so successful that I no longer have time for you because I'm so busy with work? What IF in building this, I lose you or Dah-DEE?
Those What If's, they trap me in a box every time.
Your Dah-DEE, of course, would prefer I jump and see if I can fly. Heck, if I can't fly, he'll put a trampoline under me at the bottom of the cliff so I can bounce back up. No, he IS the trampoline.
All your Dah-DEE asks is to be his partner and to come home and not be a righteous B all the time.
Get rid of your safety net, he told me in different words. Quit your job that has become your direct deposit safety net. I will be your safety net.
There is no question why I love him; why he is the perfect partner for me.
But back to fear. I am reading a book on starting a small business so I can partner with my friend (TBN, since this is the all knowing, all searchable Internet) to create something wildly successful. Maybe I need to define what successful is to me so I know it when it knocks on my door in a fairy costume.
Successful is...
> Having time to read you books as you sit in my lap.
> Receiving your love, in spontaneous hugs and open mouth kisses (later they can be closed mouth kisses too)
> Taking vacations to new to me places
> Working in a way that gives me more energy
> Having time for myself, for Dah-DEE, for you and for work
> Making money without directly working; having money coming in whether I physically do work or not
And better, more wonderful things that aren't in the above list.
It's a dance, you see, with fear. It's hard to dance and be afraid at the same time; sooner or later the brain has to disengage to dance well. The brain has no place in dancing.
Fear can be a wonderful motivator, if it doesn't put me in a box and sit on the lid so I can't escape.
But now, in writing to you, I am getting out of that box and I'm going to keep reading the Small Business startup book and take the next step.
I love you, little one, may you learn how to dance with fear before age 36.
Mah-MEE
Friday, September 30, 2005
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Blueberry Happy Jacks
Welcome Home, Stinky Dink!
This morning Mamama invented yet another new recipe...this one a mod on the traditional pancake that we're calling Blueberry Happy Jacks
Blueberry Happy Jacks
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp ground flax seed
1 beaten egg
1 Tbsp molasses
1 cup milk
2 Tbsp cooking oil
remaining frozen blueberries (1/2 cup would be good)
In whatever container you usually use for mixing pancakes, mix all the dry stuff together (including ground flax seed). In a separate container, beat the egg, then add the molasses, milk, and oil; mix these well. Then put the wet stuff into the dry stuff and stir until mixed but a bit lumpy.
Take frozen blueberries and rinse until they are mostly thawed, or thawed enough. Put these in the batter, stir once, but if you stir more than once, you'll have blue blueberry happy jacks which are fine, but not everyone likes their food blue.
I made silver dollar sized Happy Jacks by using a Tablespoon to scoop batter onto the hot frying pan. Size as you prefer.
Feed small child as you go, because otherwise you'll end up with grumpy small child who smells food but wonders why she can't have any. I spooned Yo Baby blueberry yogurt on top of hers, and then mine, because the combo was quite tasty. Eat with fork, or hands, as you prefer.
Ava, you out ate Mamama when it came to Happy Jacks. You ate seven to my five!
It's good to have you home, even if the house is completely impossible to keep clean for more than five minutes.
I love you,
Mamama
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Making room for change
Dear Stinky Dink,
Yesterday you left at 5:30AM with your Daddy to Tennessee for a few days. I spent the whole day organizing and de-cluttering, specifically your bedroom. I finally got around to removing all of my things from your bedroom, including what amounted to six boxes of books and random things that were hiding in a storage cabinet. I labeled paper bags with "throw away," "give away," "recycle," and "belongs somewhere else" and filled them to the brim. There are many other parts of the house to work on, but your room feels good. Clean. Organized.
I get this way periodically. “This way” is that I want to rummage through closets, cupboards, cluttered spaces and let go of all the things I once needed or thought I should keep because someone gave them to me. Sometimes I feel guilty letting things go that others gave me, even if they don't feel right anymore, or maybe never did.
In Feng Shui, we're encouraged to let go of anything that doesn't bring us up, or make us feel good by looking at it. There are Feng Shui cures we can do to improve less than optimal spaces or locations of rooms (such as my last flat which had a toilet in the money corner and I literally flushed money away while I lived there!), but what comes first always is letting go of clutter.
Your Daddy and I tackle the garage periodically, rearranging and removing, and then it gets filled back up again with things he finds in houses he sells and things we no longer want in the living spaces of the house. Then we clean it out, then we fill it back up. I must say though, that things are never static in this house. Change lives here.
I like change though. Change is the nature of the universe. The turkey vulture that flies overhead represents change. Often they represent the death of an animal they can call lunch, but death is change as well. Change is the death of something, death of an old way of doing things for a new way.
For a while now I've been living in a place of fear, feeling trapped by circumstances and situations. This has begun to shift, I can feel the lightness, the hope, the transition from fear to trust. I have been working in a place that doesn't really suit me, but I have been afraid to make a change, afraid to take a leap without a place to land.
I also started reading a new book, recommended by a friend, called The Power of Now. What the author says isn't brand new, but he writes in a way that appeals to me now. He writes about how the mind is constant chatter, mostly living in the past or projecting scenes onto the future. Neither are me, my true self, he writes. One suggestion he makes is to observe the one in my head doing all the thinking but not think about the thinking. Just observe the words as they pass on through.
I've done this in meditation and in yoga, but it's funny, I've never tried to watch the thinking, I've only tried to stop the thinking. He is reminding me that I am not these thoughts. I am infinite, beyond the judgments and fears in my head.
Reading this, I've felt more peaceful in the last few days. Problems that could have been huge turned out to be small, easily resolved. When my mind gets anxious, noisy, and afraid, I smile, tell it to relax, or even just a humorous library Shush! works well.
Then, of course, but not of course, because I'm not in that place of fear, a friend called me out of the blue and has a possible new job for me. This job feels like what's next - the what's next I've been wondering about for a while. My friends would say things like this always happen to me, and I would say that they do, as long as I'm not paying too much attention.
If I could teach you anything, little one, I would teach you how to quiet the chatter in your head. I would teach you about that calm place that lives inside you, a place of total love and total trust. But right now, you're seventeen months old, and you pretty much live in that place already.
Hopefully by the time the chatter finds you, you will have the tools to tell it to Shush! as you have more important things to do than listen.
I love you, Ava Jasmine. Come home soon.
Mamama
Yesterday you left at 5:30AM with your Daddy to Tennessee for a few days. I spent the whole day organizing and de-cluttering, specifically your bedroom. I finally got around to removing all of my things from your bedroom, including what amounted to six boxes of books and random things that were hiding in a storage cabinet. I labeled paper bags with "throw away," "give away," "recycle," and "belongs somewhere else" and filled them to the brim. There are many other parts of the house to work on, but your room feels good. Clean. Organized.
I get this way periodically. “This way” is that I want to rummage through closets, cupboards, cluttered spaces and let go of all the things I once needed or thought I should keep because someone gave them to me. Sometimes I feel guilty letting things go that others gave me, even if they don't feel right anymore, or maybe never did.
In Feng Shui, we're encouraged to let go of anything that doesn't bring us up, or make us feel good by looking at it. There are Feng Shui cures we can do to improve less than optimal spaces or locations of rooms (such as my last flat which had a toilet in the money corner and I literally flushed money away while I lived there!), but what comes first always is letting go of clutter.
Your Daddy and I tackle the garage periodically, rearranging and removing, and then it gets filled back up again with things he finds in houses he sells and things we no longer want in the living spaces of the house. Then we clean it out, then we fill it back up. I must say though, that things are never static in this house. Change lives here.
I like change though. Change is the nature of the universe. The turkey vulture that flies overhead represents change. Often they represent the death of an animal they can call lunch, but death is change as well. Change is the death of something, death of an old way of doing things for a new way.
For a while now I've been living in a place of fear, feeling trapped by circumstances and situations. This has begun to shift, I can feel the lightness, the hope, the transition from fear to trust. I have been working in a place that doesn't really suit me, but I have been afraid to make a change, afraid to take a leap without a place to land.
I also started reading a new book, recommended by a friend, called The Power of Now. What the author says isn't brand new, but he writes in a way that appeals to me now. He writes about how the mind is constant chatter, mostly living in the past or projecting scenes onto the future. Neither are me, my true self, he writes. One suggestion he makes is to observe the one in my head doing all the thinking but not think about the thinking. Just observe the words as they pass on through.
I've done this in meditation and in yoga, but it's funny, I've never tried to watch the thinking, I've only tried to stop the thinking. He is reminding me that I am not these thoughts. I am infinite, beyond the judgments and fears in my head.
Reading this, I've felt more peaceful in the last few days. Problems that could have been huge turned out to be small, easily resolved. When my mind gets anxious, noisy, and afraid, I smile, tell it to relax, or even just a humorous library Shush! works well.
Then, of course, but not of course, because I'm not in that place of fear, a friend called me out of the blue and has a possible new job for me. This job feels like what's next - the what's next I've been wondering about for a while. My friends would say things like this always happen to me, and I would say that they do, as long as I'm not paying too much attention.
If I could teach you anything, little one, I would teach you how to quiet the chatter in your head. I would teach you about that calm place that lives inside you, a place of total love and total trust. But right now, you're seventeen months old, and you pretty much live in that place already.
Hopefully by the time the chatter finds you, you will have the tools to tell it to Shush! as you have more important things to do than listen.
I love you, Ava Jasmine. Come home soon.
Mamama
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Tales of peace, books, dancing, and artichokes
Dear Ava,
Five minutes ago I got up from the couch and put you to bed. I took a while to get up because I was quite comfortably sandwiched between you on my right and Dadada on my left. He was beginning to snore on one side and you on the other. I looked from one peaceful sleeping face to the other, and I didn't just feel what peace looked like, I saw, I knew, intimately, what peace is.
You are such a joy to come home to after working all day. As soon as you hear my voice you start to make noise. You know it's me. When you first see me walk into the room you get a big many-toothed grin across your face and literally jump from the arms that were holding you into mine.
It's a privilege, to be loved so much by you, and to know that I am, right at this moment, your number one.
Aside from that, a couple things you do lately amuse me to no end. I gave you a small purple beaded purse and you've started carrying it around. At first just in your hand, but after a day you started putting it over your shoulder and walking around with it. Your Dadada wanted to put a dollar in your purse but I asked him not to, I didn't want you eating it.
You have also become a bibliophile in the last week. Anytime you are near a book, especially one of yours, you pick it up and hand it to the nearest person to read it to you. Yesterday you handed me "Blue Hat, Green Hat" as I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. I asked you if you were going to sit with me. You turned around and sat in my lap!
Since I've been home, we've read that book again, plus "Goodnight Gorilla," "Goodnight Moon," and "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See." I heard you made your Nana read you "Rainbow Fish" at least four times today.
You are still dancing to every bit of music that plays, whether the tune is a commercial, a CD, or part of a movie. You'll find any excuse to shake that bootie. Today I taught you a new dancing trick, to wave your hands in the air as you swing those hips of yours.
I have also taught you to love artichokes, and the proper method of eating artichoke leaves. You scrape off the edge with your teeth and then sometimes hand it back to me and other times put the whole thing in your mouth. In time, I expect you'll figure out the heart is the best part and I only give you part of it.
Now it's time for Mamama to go to bed. Sweet dreams, my little love.
Five minutes ago I got up from the couch and put you to bed. I took a while to get up because I was quite comfortably sandwiched between you on my right and Dadada on my left. He was beginning to snore on one side and you on the other. I looked from one peaceful sleeping face to the other, and I didn't just feel what peace looked like, I saw, I knew, intimately, what peace is.
You are such a joy to come home to after working all day. As soon as you hear my voice you start to make noise. You know it's me. When you first see me walk into the room you get a big many-toothed grin across your face and literally jump from the arms that were holding you into mine.
It's a privilege, to be loved so much by you, and to know that I am, right at this moment, your number one.
Aside from that, a couple things you do lately amuse me to no end. I gave you a small purple beaded purse and you've started carrying it around. At first just in your hand, but after a day you started putting it over your shoulder and walking around with it. Your Dadada wanted to put a dollar in your purse but I asked him not to, I didn't want you eating it.
You have also become a bibliophile in the last week. Anytime you are near a book, especially one of yours, you pick it up and hand it to the nearest person to read it to you. Yesterday you handed me "Blue Hat, Green Hat" as I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. I asked you if you were going to sit with me. You turned around and sat in my lap!
Since I've been home, we've read that book again, plus "Goodnight Gorilla," "Goodnight Moon," and "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See." I heard you made your Nana read you "Rainbow Fish" at least four times today.
You are still dancing to every bit of music that plays, whether the tune is a commercial, a CD, or part of a movie. You'll find any excuse to shake that bootie. Today I taught you a new dancing trick, to wave your hands in the air as you swing those hips of yours.
I have also taught you to love artichokes, and the proper method of eating artichoke leaves. You scrape off the edge with your teeth and then sometimes hand it back to me and other times put the whole thing in your mouth. In time, I expect you'll figure out the heart is the best part and I only give you part of it.
Now it's time for Mamama to go to bed. Sweet dreams, my little love.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Bilingual at 17 months
This morning as I was changing your diaper, you distinctly said o-lah! Hola? I questioned. OLAH!!! You replied. Hola! I said. Olah! you replied.
Then to mix things up a bit, I said Hi!
Hi! you replied, omitting the h, so it sounded more like "eye!"
Now though, you are wandering around the living room saying OLAH!
Then to top it off, you walked up, handed me two plastic baby hangers as if i was going to do something wonderful with them. I banged them together rapidly with a big grin on my face and handed them back to you. You nodded, very good Mom, and walked away, banging the hangers together.
Then to mix things up a bit, I said Hi!
Hi! you replied, omitting the h, so it sounded more like "eye!"
Now though, you are wandering around the living room saying OLAH!
Then to top it off, you walked up, handed me two plastic baby hangers as if i was going to do something wonderful with them. I banged them together rapidly with a big grin on my face and handed them back to you. You nodded, very good Mom, and walked away, banging the hangers together.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Seventeen months
Hi sweet girl,
Last weekend you went on your first ever camping trip up to Silver Lake. You ingested so much dirt that I believe any mineral deficit you may have had has completely disappeared.
You loved the dirt. You scooped up shovels full and dumped it into a bucket. You picked up handfuls and then emptied the dirt into my hand, as if to say, this is great stuff, Mom, you need some too.
I just laughed and said, "Dirt, Ava just handed me dirt."
I kept you in the same overalls all weekend, exchanging them only for pajamas at bedtime. We took Broham, our faithful 19-foot 1978 Dodge RV and shared a campsite with my brother and his family.
On Sunday a tribe of us went for a hike along beautiful water-worn granite with running water passing through. You were elated bouncing along in the backpack on Dadada's back until we got to a good stopping point and he put your feet in the water. You weren't sure about that cold water at first, but then later you strained against my arms to get more of it.
You got to see your Grandma Bear, your Great Grandpa Jerry, and a selection of other family members who all decided you were adorable. Such a great baby! So mellow! And you are, as good as they come for a 17 month old little girl.
Speaking of 17 months, you just had your 17 month birthday on Monday. Seventeen months already and you're doing all kinds of things these days.
Yesterday, you started saying Mommy. I wasn't really sure I was the Mommy type, but the decision is in your hands, so Mommy it is. You say all kinds of things, although you don't call the cats "kitty" you do seem to call Unagi somthing that sounds like "aaahhhgeeee" which is close enough for horseshoes.
You walk all over the place now, and even walk away from me in public places. You're pretty good at minding me though, when I ask you to stay inside or stay close. I appreciate this, believe me!
You can find your head and your nose, reliably, although my best efforts have not helped you find your ears or tummy. You are fascinated with your belly button, and the other morning I told you as you were poking your finger in it that in that exact spot you were connected to me. Your Dadada interjected by saying "And I cut you loose!"
Speaking of Dadada, the game he has taught you lately is that he'll honk when you squeeze his nose and beep when you squeeze your own. I didn't know about this game and wondered why you were giving me such a curious look when you squeezed my nose, nor why you were squeezing it in the first place.
Yesterday in the car, we had a whole conversation of whispered da's. I was on the phone, waiting for someone, and you said dadada in a whisper. I responded with a whispered da-da. We continued the da rally for about two minutes, lobbing and volleying one, two, or three da's back and forth.
All things considered, my little love, I wouldn't trade you for anything.
I love you,
Mamama
aka Mommy
Last weekend you went on your first ever camping trip up to Silver Lake. You ingested so much dirt that I believe any mineral deficit you may have had has completely disappeared.
You loved the dirt. You scooped up shovels full and dumped it into a bucket. You picked up handfuls and then emptied the dirt into my hand, as if to say, this is great stuff, Mom, you need some too.
I just laughed and said, "Dirt, Ava just handed me dirt."
I kept you in the same overalls all weekend, exchanging them only for pajamas at bedtime. We took Broham, our faithful 19-foot 1978 Dodge RV and shared a campsite with my brother and his family.
On Sunday a tribe of us went for a hike along beautiful water-worn granite with running water passing through. You were elated bouncing along in the backpack on Dadada's back until we got to a good stopping point and he put your feet in the water. You weren't sure about that cold water at first, but then later you strained against my arms to get more of it.
You got to see your Grandma Bear, your Great Grandpa Jerry, and a selection of other family members who all decided you were adorable. Such a great baby! So mellow! And you are, as good as they come for a 17 month old little girl.
Speaking of 17 months, you just had your 17 month birthday on Monday. Seventeen months already and you're doing all kinds of things these days.
Yesterday, you started saying Mommy. I wasn't really sure I was the Mommy type, but the decision is in your hands, so Mommy it is. You say all kinds of things, although you don't call the cats "kitty" you do seem to call Unagi somthing that sounds like "aaahhhgeeee" which is close enough for horseshoes.
You walk all over the place now, and even walk away from me in public places. You're pretty good at minding me though, when I ask you to stay inside or stay close. I appreciate this, believe me!
You can find your head and your nose, reliably, although my best efforts have not helped you find your ears or tummy. You are fascinated with your belly button, and the other morning I told you as you were poking your finger in it that in that exact spot you were connected to me. Your Dadada interjected by saying "And I cut you loose!"
Speaking of Dadada, the game he has taught you lately is that he'll honk when you squeeze his nose and beep when you squeeze your own. I didn't know about this game and wondered why you were giving me such a curious look when you squeezed my nose, nor why you were squeezing it in the first place.
Yesterday in the car, we had a whole conversation of whispered da's. I was on the phone, waiting for someone, and you said dadada in a whisper. I responded with a whispered da-da. We continued the da rally for about two minutes, lobbing and volleying one, two, or three da's back and forth.
All things considered, my little love, I wouldn't trade you for anything.
I love you,
Mamama
aka Mommy
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