Have I told you I love my new ipod? Yes? Well, let me tell you once again.

I feel like Captain VonTrap calling up to my ipod, Maria, as she’s walking up the stairs. “You’ve brought music back into my life,” I tell her, my handsome Christopher Plumber face staring at her lovingly.

But this isn’t a music post. That will come later, along with a discussion of what I’ve been listening to and my favorites from all of your recommendations.

This is a technology post. My youngest daughter, Hannah, has been carrying around a little hand-held computer game she got from a Happy Meal.* She’s been carrying around this little toy, oblivious to its real purpose, and calling it her Ipod, “pipod.” Rachel is also excited about my ipod and calls it an “ipot.” It’s been good for them, too, this little music collection miracle holder. Rachel listens to her music on our drives to preschool. But she also listens to lots of my music–everything from Beethovan to Bob Dylan.

So, it’s a good thing, this charming piece of technology. And yet, there is something that makes me a little sad about the way technology is being introduced to my children so effortlessly. It’s not that I want them listening to clunky records. It’s just that I don’t know what it feels like to be that young and to be sending letters through the computer. Or even looking at video images of people on my computer as we talk to them on the phone. And my girls will never know what it feels like to wait more than a week for a letter to arrived from a loved one when they are in another country. Instead they will know text messaging and camera phones. I know that’s okay, but it makes me a little sad.

It is just one more reminder that we are not the same person, the three of us. Like that first time I dropped each of them off at a babysitter. Each time it was hard to accept that this child would have experiences that I would not witness and experience along with them.

Though I know I must accept that this technology will form their experiences in a way that I can’t completely fathom, I can make some decisions about how things are introduced. There will be no child-sized laptops for my girls. They won’t recieve their own computers until they are much, much older. The school my girls will be going to does not introduce computers into the curriculum until 3rd grade. That’s works for me.

I want my children to know what the pages of a book smell like, to write letters on real paper once in a while and send them in the mail, to be able to look at this painting right up here on my template and know something of what it may have felt like to have been that woman over 100 years ago.

And after I tuck them in their beds, I will sneak away to my secret lover, this internet. Who would have thought that I would have fallen so hard? Me, who reisted high-speed internet for so long, the woman who wants to sneak away into this painting and pop popcorn over an open fire while listening to Pa play his fiddle.

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*We haven’t gone to McDonald’s since we saw SuperSize Me. I know this must sound bad after my mention of Fruit Loops in yesterday’s post, but my kids eat well.

My husband is back in town after a few days leave. We all are breathing sighs of relief and excitement. The breakfast table is set for a special breakfast together….a sugary cereal that only makes an appearance on very special occasions is sitting…waiting. I don’t particularly like Fruit Loops, and you?

I have been going through a burst of energy. It started with a sudden desire to clear the kitchen cupboard. You know, the one wtih all the junk in it. After I accomplished that, I moved to the OTHER kitchen cupboard with all the junk in it. Next, I finished staining our outside fence. Then I started to tackle the playroom. (Still working on that one.) All of this while going through a major bout of PMS. Oh, did I mention that I sang a bit of Moon River for you, while trying to avoid being interrupted by a four year old. (She doesn’t really like it when I sing MY songs. We’re working on that.)

Has anyone else started tracking their monthly cycle from their blog? Have you noticed any pattern? My posts are very scattered, and sometimes even frantic and anxiety-ridden, while I’m PMSing. Right after this they become very emotional. Then at some point in the month, they seem to flow and I’ll have a week or so of very fluid posts. (I’m re-reading this and not sure about the use of the words flow and fluid in this context. Oh well.)

It has also been interesting to see patterns emerge collectively. For instance, I don’t think I’m the only one that has been going through a major nesting and organizing binge this month. Maybe September, rather than Spring, is the time when the real Spring cleaning happens.

The good news, folks, is that this week of scattered posts is about to come to an end. The emotional, “I love you, man” posts are around the corner, and then you get the week of the scintillating, prolific Raehanster. I’m not sure what follows that. The fall-flat-on-my-$%& Raehan? Haven’t figured out the whole cycle yet.

It’s all very interesting, these patterns and cycles. What have you noticed about your own or our collective patterns from reading or writing in the blogosphere?

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I want to thank the talented Tamara for her sweet email and for paying to upgrade my Flickr account as a reward for my singing here. Thank you! Tamara, in my opinion, is one of the cool kids on the block, so I am feeling a little less nerdy. I am also thinking she wants to protect my precious template images that she created. Yup. she’s the one who made this template. Talented, I said.

Don’t worry I won’t make this a habit. Gotta keep my day job, ya know.

Singing

Hannah Interview (same as in post below)

(After listening to this several times now I think Hannah actually said “Potty” when I asked her about her bath, rather than Daddy.)

Rachel Interview

(Note: When Hannah comes to us at the end of the interview she is saying “Rachel rock.” She then sits in her lap and Rachel is rocking her as she talks about being a big sister and letting her little sister sit in her lap. Awwwwwww.)

Hey this is really cool. I can play all three at the same time.

Now your turn, if you are inclined. (Ahem, Tamara) Whoever does an audioblog of any sort, singing or not, will be linked below. Audioblogger gives a free 7 day trial, though you do have to sign up formally. I think there also is a free service you can use. Blogger talks about it in their add-on section in Blogger Help.

Forgive my singing folks. I had not practiced before picking up the guitar and song, I ended a little funny.

LINKS:

Arethusa posted an audioblog to keep me company. If you listen carefully you might be able to hear her cat breathing. Check out her new fall template.

Kiki sings her ABC’s for us beautifully.

In the comments to my last post, MommaK asked me to sing my version of “I will” via audioblog. I don’t want to sing that song, because it would hit a little too closely to Ricky Lake singing a lullaby on the Oprah show (was it even the Oprah show? I don’t remember. This was way back in the days when I watched daytime television. No more.) However, if I get five dependable people to promise to do an audioblog on a particular day….say Wednesday or Thursday, then I will do an audioblog with some conversation and perhaps some singing from me and/or my children. What do you say? Anyone willing? I need five takers.

UPDATE: Go to audioblogger and get a free 7 day trial membership. I didn’t realize you had to pay for audioblogger, but you can always drop out before the trial period starts.

More to come. This is just an appetizer.

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This week Hannah has started taking baths again. (Loud Applause)

She also has chosen a boyfriend for herself, little Nathan, 7 month younger. I have to hand it to her, she’s willing to work with what she’s got. While Rachel had two playgroups by Hannah’s age, Hannah is just starting a very small one now. It’s funny how when Rachel was younger my mom friends and I assumed children needed to play with kids almost exactly the same age, within a few months of each other. Hannah seems fine tagging along with Rachel’s friends, or their siblings, much younger than herself. It is a much more natural set up, now that I think about it. When I played with the neighborhood kids we were all over the place in age.

The boy who Hannah has started to focus on is “Nay-Nay” (nick-name for Nathan). He is the brother of one of Rachel’s best school friends. We see him almost every week day at pick-up time. Hannah talks about him all the time. As we walk into the school yard, she looks for his stroller and starts asking after him. He’s not quite as smitten, yet. She is quite tall and perhaps a little overattentive.

Last week Hannah was walking behind him, with her arms around him. I’m not quite sure what she was doing….perhaps a walk-hug? Anyway, he was beyond nap time and fell over from the force of the hug. He cried. I apologized and we all said good-bye and went our separate ways. I didn’t realize the event would be impressionable on Hannah. All week, she told people the story. “Nay-Nay cying!” She never volunteered the rest of the information. We had to pull it our her. “Did he fall because Hannah hugged him too hard?” “Da!” she would say, nodding thoughtfully.

We’re still working on the “how to be a good friend” thing. In fact, I thought we were going to get through Hannah’s toddlerhood without hitting, but she has discovered it, and is experimenting. Thank goodness only at home so far. Keep your fingers crossed.

Since we (or at least I) have been on the subject of lullabies lately, I thought it might be a good time to share a lullaby I wrote for Rachel when she was a newborn. It’s very sappy, but it meant a lot to me as a new mother because it expressed those new mother feelings so well for me.

When I was pregnant with Rachel my husband was listening to the Beatles quite often. One song that stuck with me was “I will.” After Rachel was born, the melody was in my head a lot so I found myself humming it to her. Finally one night I wrote some new words. Don’t laugh. Remember…I was in that “born again” stage of motherhood.

(to the melody of “I will”, The Beatles)

1. Who knows how long I’ve loved you?
You know I love you still.
Will I love you for a lifetime?
Even longer, yes I will.

Chorus:
Love you Forever and Forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we’re together
Love you when we’re apart

2. You are my gift from heaven,
my precious little girl.
You’re my magic.
You’re my laughter
and you magnify my world.

3. Your Daddy loves you dearly.
He tells me every night.
You’re a dazzling burst of sunshine.
You make everything all right.

4. And when you are much older,
a woman, not a girl,
please remember what I’ve told you.
You’re a gift. You are a treasure.
and you give us so much pleasure.
Share youself then with the world.

It’s funny, these words sound so cliche to me now. But at the time……they seemed to express this new world I was discovering. A world with new magical dimensions. So moved was I by my “own” song, I called my mom and my sister and sung it to them. They were polite, but I’m sure were not nearly as impressed as I was by my words.

Now I occasionally sing the song to my girls. Sometimes Rachel doesn’t want me to sing it, but other times she lets me. When she does let me, I think she listens more carefully to the words than she used to, with an interested and slightly puzzled look on her face

I imagine that look of puzzlement will turn to horror when I’m still singing it to her 10 years from now.

By the way, if you think my experience of new motherhood was only sugary sweet, read this. It will give you a more balanced view of my experience.

Aren’t Saturdays great? We get to sleep in……20 minutes later. No rush to preschool. A leisurly cup of coffee.

This morning I walked the dog while the kids played with Dad. I came back watched them playing while I drank some coffee. Then I went upstairs to find a good book. My five-volume set of Harry Potter was calling my name. I bought in this summer on a wonderful book splurge, along with book-club books and two childhood favorites. Rachel has been eager to have me read the Harry Potter series. For a month, they’ve been sitting in my office.

I grabbed the first Harry Potter book and brought it back downstairs. I sat on the couch. The first paragraph was fun. I was pleased, and enjoying the read. Then Rachel crawled on the couch next to me, eager to see what I was reading. I explained that I was finally starting the Harry Potter series. Next, Hannah climbs up next to us. “Pottah! Pottah!” Excitement was in the air. They were both looking at the book with me. On the first page, is a picture of Harry Potter as a baby. I showed it to them. “Pottah Baby!!! Pottah Baby!” Hannah could hardly contain herself. They were both grabbing at the book.

I gave up.

When my husband took the girls out shopping, I wandered up stairs and picked up the book I have been wanting to re-read. A favorite from my childhood. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith.

How can you not love Francie?

“Pottah Baby” will have to wait a bit.

I’ve ordered “The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter” for my online book club. My off-line book club will be reading “The Magicians Assistant” next month. I’ve already read it.

The other childhood favorite that awaits me is “To Kill A Mockingbird.”

Now back to Francie.

I’ve been giving Hannah a brief “rock-rock” before bed each night. I try to sing a few lullabies. She puts her head down for a minute and then sits up with a big grin on her face and starts swinging back and forth, singing along like she’s at a German Biergarten with a mug of beer in her hand.

Sigh.

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Bonnie asked very politely for lyrics. Bonnie, I need to learn the melody to that beautiful lullaby that you sent me. My lullaby repetoire now is very simple.

I usually start with Rock-a-Bye Baby or Brahms Lullaby. Nothing fancy. Hannah likes singing along with Rock-a-Bye Baby the best. She cracks herself up singing “baby.”

Then I move on to something that I particularly enjoy singing, like “Danny Boy”:

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.

And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

The last song is called “Goodnight Hannah,” sung to the melody of “Goodnight Ladies.” Rachel recently expanded our lyrics. Here is her version.

Goodnight Moon. Goodnight Moon. Goodnight Moon…..is Hannah’s favorite book.

Goodnight Jo Jo. Goodnight Jo Jo. Goodnight Jo Jo…..is Hannah’s favorite Doll.

Goodnight Hannah. Goodnight Hannah. Goodnight Hannah….is Rachel’s favorite sister.

(Hannah and I added this last part)

Goodnight Mommy. Goodnight Mommy. Goodnight Mommy….because Mommy goes night-night too.

(Imagine Hannah swinging side to side singing, “Noo-night Moon.” Then imagine her starting to get a little weepy when we get to her name.)

My husband put together a beautiful collection of lullabies on a CD when Rachel was a baby. Unfortunately, but at the same time VERY fortunately, we don’t rock Hannah until she falls asleep, like we did with her sister. Therefore, we don’t get the pleasure of listening to the music while we watch the glow from the lamp reflect off her sleeping face. On the up side, we don’t spend a whole hour and a half putting her to sleep. I may post the songs from his lullaby CD if you’re interested.

Your lullaby suggestions?

I would love to post a real post today, but I can’t. Instead let me just tell you how much I love you all. Really. I have the best readers out there. Thanks for going to see Catherine yesterday.

Now….let’s see. Reader request. What would you like to have me post about next week? I’ll do my best to oblige. You deserve it.

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This one is for Jean-Luc, who asked that I talk about my favorite paintings.

I will preface this by saying, I am not an art historian. By no means am I an expert, but I know what strikes me. I saw this one at the Louvre in Paris. Let’s just say that it struck me hard.

From WebMuseum, Paris:

Liberty leading the People (90 Kb); Painted on 28 July 1830, to commemorate the July Revolution that had just brought Louis-Philippe to the French throne; Louvre.

“This painting, which is a sort of political poster, is meant to celebrate the day of 28 July 1830, when the people rose and dethroned the Bourbon king. Alexandre Dumas tells us that Delacroix’s participation in the rebellious movements of July was mainly of a sentimental nature. Despite this, the painter, who had been a member of the National Guard, took pleasure in portraying himself in the figure on the left wearing the top-hat. Although the painting is filled with rhetoric, Delacroix’s spirit is fully involved in its execution: in the outstretched figure of Liberty, in the bold attitudes of the people following herm contrasted with the lifeless figures of the dead heaped up in the foreground, in the heroic poses of the people fighting for liberty, there is without a doubt a sense of full participation on the part of the artist, which led Argan to define this canvas as the first political work of modern painting.

More later. I’ll try to post regularly on paintings. Not because I know what I’m talking about, but because it’s fun. And I loved Arethusa’s week of art.

Please visit Catherine of Fountain Pen by clicking the title bar.

One of her children has been diagnosed with a malignant tumor.

There are no words, but let her know she has your support, whether it is prayers or positive thinking.

Don’t bother commenting here. Just please go. Even lurkers.

Correction: Catherine’s son’s tumor is malignant, but not a brain tumor. I read her post wrong. Thank goodness I was wrong. Still, she needs our support. For more information, read her comment to this post.

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If you are back again. I have another assignment. Go tell Sleeping Mommy not to hurl her car over an overpass.

And if you have any good poop stories, tell them to PK for me. She’s collecting them.

Thank you.

It has become unseasonably cool where I live out west. Usually we get hot weather until mid-October and I get homesick for autumn in the east. This year we’ve already had more than a week of beautiful fall temperatures. It’s been lovely, but I have to admit I was finally ready for a hot September. I was going to just enjoy it and not look back.

Instead I’m nesting like a squirrel. I had someone come over this morning to help me choose colors for painting. Our walls are white. Yes, white. We’ve got colorful furniture, window coverings, etc. but this white is finally calling my name. It is thirsty for color. I’m thirsty for color. Since my husband likes to take part in the decorating decision making, and it would take us two more years to agree on paint, and then we would botch it up in the end, I decided to take the referral for a paint consultant. The consultant is a mom who works out of her home. She doesn’t charge very much at all, and the colors she had me looking at are just so exciting I can hardly contain myself. I would have never gone for green tones, but Wow! Now…..to get my husband on board. I know green toned paint sounds boring but when you put it against the colors we have it looks great.

The other reason why I am kissing this woman’s feet is this. I forgot the appointment was today and she was waiting on my doorstep when I got home from dropping Rachel at preschool. Laundry and even one or two dirty diapers (okay, two, darnit!) were on the floor upstairs. Our living room was full of boxes I was sorting for Katrina victims. The table was full of breakfast dishes. Despite this, she made me feel completely comfortable!! She’s my new best friend.

This excitement about color has me browsing online for art. Well, it actually started when we were shopping at Target, of all places, this weekend. They had a very large oil canvas reproduction of a painting. The same reproduction has been featured in Ballards catalog and I’ve had my eye on it for quite some time. The exact same oil canvas they have for one third the price. We bought it. It’s looks amazing in our living room. Now I’m really interested in these oil on canvas reproductions.

Do you find that you are loyal to one or two genres of art and shun the rest, or do you play the field and pick or shun art indiscriminately. I am one of the latter folk. Some impressionists move me, some don’t. Some realists move me, some don’t. Some Dutch paintings, some not.

Take modern art, for instance. I’m not a big Picasso fan, but I am drawn to some the work (not all) of Wassily Kandisky. This one really speaks to me. (It is not the one I bought, if you’re curious about that.)

“Composition VII,” 1913

I think Kandinksy would say that it sings to me.

“Kandinsky, himself an accomplished musician, once said Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmonies, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul. The concept that color and musical harmony are linked has a long history, intriguing scientists such as Sir Isaac Newton. Kandinsky used color in a highly theoretical way associating tone with timbre (the sounds character), hue with pitch, and saturation with the volume of sound. He even claimed that when he saw color he heard music.”
WebMuseum, Paris

Is there any modern art that speaks to you? Or is it all just a bunch of scribble as far as you’re concerned? Does this piece of art sing to you or make you yawn and scratch your head?

Another of my nesting projects? Landscaping. You should see the slope in our backyard. After one and a half years in this house and hoeing the clay soil up there until my hands were blistered. And weeding the damn thing 4 or 5 times, I have finally called someone to give me guidance. He owns the neighborhood gardening store and he’s coming over tomorrow evening. I’ve been getting free advice from him FOREVER. Now he can come and see how I’ve botched it al up. But…..I am so damn excited.

Oh, one last question: Do you think decorating decisions are best left to one highly motivated, passionate, color-thirsty person (aka: me or you), or should these decisions be negotiated (translation: argued) over until a decision is made…or not made.

Kidding, honey. I told her specifically that you would vote against purple in the bedroom for ideological reasons. It was like you were there with us the whole time.

Every time I make a move in the kitchen my girls are right behind me grabbing things off counters, attempting to help themselves to things in the cupboards. It drives me nuts. If you don’t have a child like this, try not to get smug on me. My friend’s first daughter was not such a child, but her second is, and now she understands. We do have the dangerous cupboards child-proofed, but not the rest of them. I suppose we should, but I hate those latches.

Today when I was trying to prepare a meal and Hannah was attempting to help herself to the dried blueberries in the cupboards, I kneeled down to Hannah and told her that she couldn’t forage for herself, but would have to wait until we sat down to eat. Apparently this broke her heart. Within thirty seconds, Hannah was in Rachel’s arms sobbing her heart out. I walked over patted Hannah’s back.

Rachel said in a very matronly voice, “Say sorry to the little girl. You hurt her feelings.”

I started to protest, but was too stunned to put up a good fight. Meekly, I apologized.

In my defense, no one had dried bluberries today.

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We went to a picnic mid-day and Hannah was filthy by the time we got back. I made her get in the bath and washed her hair. She was crying the whole time and screaming for the towel and diaper because of her concern about the “poo-poo” coming.

As I was drying her, we had a very long conversation. It was time to explain how poop works in this household. I told her what her private parts were called. We went through a list of who needed diapers in the family and who didn’t and where everyone put their poop. We talked about what Charlie’s (our Female dog) private parts are called and where she does her business and why Charlie doesn’t wear a diaper. I explained to her that it is only water touching her private parts when she is bathing and not poo or pee.

She nodded and interspersed with comments like, “Charlie’s poo bye-bye.” And “Daddy poo-poo potty.” And “Charlie’s ‘gina.” She looked very pensive and thoughtful.

I don’t think it solved our problem but her little head is churning. One day she will sort it all out.

Right?

Please say yes.

Five a months ago, I could have told you that Hannah was virtually fearless. My wild woman climbed and jumped from high places with abandon. Now she still comes across on first impression as being an easy going, free-spirited child. Dig a little deeper, however and you’ll discover that she’s got a few issues.

I’ve mentioned her fear of her own shadow. That has been resolved. I’ve discussed her fear of pooping in the bathtub. That has not been resolved, but we are managing to wipe her down or dunk her when necessary. It seems the sensation of water hitting her bottom makes her think she’s losing control of her bodily functions. I’ve tried everything, Believe me. Oh, except those fizzy tablets, Marie. I’ll give it a few weeks and then give those a try.

I’d have to say that the shadow and bathtub episodes pale in comparison to what happened last night. I don’t quite know how to describe the episode, because frankly I don’t really understand it. It started out with a silly game of belly-button. Hannah was showing me a doll with a belly-button and then, of course, we had to look at her belly-button, and then the doll’s, and then hers, etc. Rachel was in the room and asked whether Charlie (our dog) had a belly button. We had Charlie lie on her back, and then we examined her stomach. That was my brilliant idea. Charlie is a female dog. When her tummy was exposed her female part was also exposed. Not a big deal. In a normal world. But in Hannah’s world, this was horrific.

For whatever reason she freaked out. “Poo-poo,” she cried, her body rigid and shaking. “Mama, Charlie’s poo-poo.” “Ewwwww, Mama.” she cried. She ran to get a diaper for Charlie. “Stinky.” “Charlie, poo-poo.” “Ewwwwwww,” she sobbed, her face terror stricken. It was much worse than I can possibly describe here. She was looking at Charlie with horror as if Charlie was possessed by a stinky devil. It went on for more than five minutes. My husband and I looked at each other with wide eyes, wanting to laugh but knowing it was really traumatic for Hannah and just wanting it to stop.

Did she think that Charlie was going to go poo-poo without a diaper on? It wasn’t clear. She also uses the word poo-poo for bottom. Finally, I thought that perhaps Hannah thought that Charlie’s female part (I need a better term here) was a poop. I suggested we all take Charlie for a walk so we could say “Bye-bye” to the “poo-poo.” We did. The issue was resolved. Until the next time Charlie lies on her back.

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Those of you who assume there isn’t sibling rivalry in my house are sadly mistaken. I’ll devote a post to this sometime soon.

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My backward comments were starting to confuse me. I changed the settings to a normal top to bottom sequence.

…you might have witnessed this scene last week.

I hand Hannah the phone. Grandma is on the other end. Hannah seems eager to take the phone. We’re all whispering to her urging her to say what we think she might say. “Hi Grandma!” or “I love you.” I’m crouching on the floor next to her whispering these words to her.

Instead she simply says, “Potty.”

We all try again, louder this time. Coaching her, vigorously

This time she says, “My potty.”

That’s all Grandma got. Hannah was satisfied. She had said what she wanted to say.

I might be a little more satisfied if she actually used the potty once in a while.

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Thank you, Michele! I am touched and honored!!

For those of you who don’t know about Michele and her wonderful games, please go visit her and join in. It is a wonderful way to meet people. If you play the comment game or the Weekend Meet n Greet you will be introduced to many wonderful bloggers.

It was a night in March that looked very much like this photograph. I was eighteen and in New York City with friends during spring break. My parents lived in Manhattan at the time. My friends and I were singing, with our arms around each other, as we walked in lower Manhattan. We decided to go up and have a drink and bite to eat at Windows on the World at the top of the World Trade Center.

I mourn the loss of these two buildings. I mourn the loss of lives. I mourn the loss of my country’s innocence. I feel these losses on a physical level.

I know we are supposed to be standing united, but I feel deeply that this country is more divided than ever. It pains me. I think unity is something you have to work for. It’s not something that happens without real dialogue and leadership.

What do you think the solution is? Without pointing fingers, how do you think we can bridge the divide in this country in the aftermath of 9/11? If you could hold a leadership position in this country right now, what would it be, and how would you heal our divide? You don’t have to be an American to answer this question. I’d love to hear from anyone with wisdom on tihs matter.

This summer, Rachel and I had the rare opportunity to spend some time together without her little sister. On one of these fine mornings, we took a ferry ride together. It was a wonderful, brilliant, calm big-girl event. There was no toddler to chase around the boat. We sat next to each other quietly, she eating her pretzels, me drinking my coffee. Calmly.

At that moment it I saw it. Do you know what I’m talking about? The light at the end of the tunnel. In about a year and a half Hannah would be settling down, too. We could have these rides all together. We could go to ballets together and I could relax and breath easy. Well, a bit easier, anyway.

It was very exciting, that light at the end of the tunnel. I felt light and joyful. I would miss my babies, and my toddlers, but I was ready for sanity and order. I confirmed to myself what I had been thinking all summer. I was done. This was my family. My heart was full enough. Bursting in fact. And I had plans. Such plans. My spare time would be used well.

But then it happened again. (No, not that. I’m not pregnant.) Just as the battle in my head over whether to have another child had been won, it started up again with a vengeance. Like the time I packed up all of Hannah’s baby clothes wanting once and for all to silence the voices in my head. As soon as I happily dropped the boxes off, the “I want one more” voice stood up with a vengeance and demanded to be heard.

At some point it was silenced again. I’m not sure when exactly. A few mothers I knew with new third-borns were telling me how crazy things were for them. That settled it for a while. It also helped that Hannah was challenging me physically with her climbing. I had my hands full.

Back to this summer. After that ferry ride, when I thought all had been decided, one of my friends showed up to a playgroup with a new baby girl. There had been new babies in the group, but this one was a girl and dressed in a fuzzy pink sleeper. Nothing against boys, but the fact that it was a girl brought back specific memories and those feelings. I’m not one of those mothers that keeps wanting more children because she wants a baby around. It’s actually quite the opposite. I love babies. Don’t get me wrong. I have loved every minute of each of my children’s babyhoods and toddlerhoods. But when I’m done, I look back and it suddenly hits me how hard it all was. And I don’t want to go through it all again. There was no yearning to have a second baby. I had to close my eyes and just do it. What I get nostalgic for is not the new baby, but the new life. That feeling of having this life in your life that you never fully comprehended….anticipated. The indescribable feeling of having been given a gift that is beyond expectations.

I wrote once in my 100 Things list that on a daily basis, there is a battle going on in my head between the sensible side of me that is satisfied with two children and the wild side of me that wants one more.

Do you want to know what the battle sounds like?

Voice 1: You don’t want a third. You’ve reached your limit. Don’t press your luck. You’ll just wish you had stopped at two. You will be completely overwhelmed. You’ll turn into one of those pitiful mothers of three that you sometimes see and feel sorry for. You can’t handle it.
Voice 2: Maybe you’re right, but my children are drawn to larger families. They are social and clearly want another sibling. And besides, aren’t they beautiful? Don’t you want to see what a third one would look like and be like?
Voice 1: But your attention is already divided as it is. You’re not going to be able to play board games with your girls as they grow older if there is a little toddler running around. You can forget about private schools. It will be harder to travel abroad together like you have been wanting to do more of when the girls are older
Voice 2: I see your point, but I’m getting better at this divided-attention thing. My toddler is settling down now. I feel like I have breathing room. I was going to look into the public schools anyway. There is always the option of going back to work to pay for private schools when the children are all school age. And what’s one more plane ticket in the grand scheme of things. If we can figure out a way to go abroad, surely we can find a way to squeeze one more ticket in.
Voice 1: Your life is perfect right now. Your house is the perfect size for two kids. Both kids will be in pre-school before you know it and then you can start working on your own projects again. You don’t want to have to give up your office space for a baby.
Voice 2: I know. I’ve been very excited about that prospect of working on MY work again. Even so, something feels a little off about this new space opening up. Something feels a little too perfect. When I was young and looked forward to my life, my plans were always about adventure, never perfection. And on a practical level, Rachel and Hannah would love to share a room. That’s obvious. When they get older we’ll figure another arrangement out…or move if we have to.
Voice 1: Don’t you remember those moments that you hit the wall when Hannah was a baby and you weren’t getting sleep. It will get even worse with another baby. You’ll be a bad mother. You’ll lose control completely.
Voice 2. You are right. I could become a bad mother.
(Long Pause)
Voice 1: What if something is wrong with the baby? What if you get pregnant with twins? You know they run in your family.
Voice 2: (Quiet. Thinking. Scared.)

Do you remember those mothers with the new third-borns that were telling me how crazy things were? Well, last spring I attended a birthday party at one of these mother’s houses. They had a local singer/guitar-player there, and there were only four girls dancing: Rachel and my friend’s three daughters. It was the most beautiful sight seeing the siblings twirling around together. That family is happy and it is one of the few families that Rachel covets, wishing at times it was her own. The other family that holds a spot like this in Rachel’s heart is my sister’s family, with four kids.

So, perhaps Voice 1 won the battle of the mind up there. The problem is I’ve got a very strong heart. And these days my heart sees three children dancing in my living room. This is strange because I never had visions like this about my first two. I always had to jump without a vision–take a giant leap of faith.

The other thing is, Voice 1 has no sense of adventure and she’s trying to persuade me by drawing upon my fears. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize I missed out on an adventure I deeply wanted because I was scared.

But to answer my question, “Is two enough?” I say, of course it is enough. Heck, one was enough. Despite my struggles, my cup was and is overflowing over with magic and blessings. If I never had another child, I would be the luckiest person alive.

And you know what? If I hadn’t been able to have children, I think that would have been enough, too. I would have used that time to do everything that I am not able to do now. To have adventures unavailable to me as a mother.

But this is where life has landed me. There is room in my life for one more life. I think we can handle it financially and otherwise, as challenging as it might turn out to be. My husband very freely says the decision is all mine. He would be happy with one more.

And I say…..yes.

I’m going to take these next six months to enjoy coasting while I get this body strong and healthy, and then we’ll see if I am able to have another.

And if it doesn’t happen, I will say, Thank you, God. Thank you, life. Two is enough. Two is amazing. Hand me another cup of coffee. Isn’t the view of the city from the water fantastic?

…I’m not perfect.

The wonderful MommaK recently wrote a thought-provoking post that has inspired me to write about something I’ve been scratching my head about for a few months. What kind of person do I come across as here on this blog?

I suppose we all have blog personas, but I have never consciously tried to create one. In fact, I usually write more about things that I observe (translation: my children) than about myself. Sometimes when I get your nice comments, though, I worry that I come across here as too perfect. I hope not.

What I think I portray here is life as I see it. I’m a big picture person. (Translation: type B personality. Translation 2: unorganized; head in the clouds.) I am also an optimist. That means the big picture stuff and the happy thoughts are what win out and bubble to the top in that crazy pot of thoughts that is my brain.

Just in case you are interested, here are some things about me that have not made it to a post lately.

1. I am a klutz. I bump into things like table tops and the corners of desks. I have bruises on my legs to show it.
2. I never have and never will be called “Martha Stewart.” When I make a birthday cake it is plain, simple, and lopsided and I am damn happy that it didn’t fall apart. I am not crafty, as much as I would like to be. When I do succeed at a craft I have had to work my butt off, and what I produce is only passable, but I am damn proud of it because I tried.
3. My average on cooking is just that…average. Sometimes I hit the ball out of the ball park, and other times I fail miserably. I’ve got two kids that grab things from countertops and start digging into cupboards when I cook. My oldest is trying to help, and my toddler simply has her hardest time in the late afternoon and she pulls at my pants and my heartstrings if I just glance at the stove. Cooking generally is only a happy experience for me when I have company here to play with them and keep them happy.
4. My oldest daughter is a better dresser than I am.
5. I DO get impatient. I often feel like Mrs. Marsh in Little Women who has to go out of the room and count to 10 because she has such a temper. Sometimes I want to scream at the cereal that has just been thrown on the floor but am able to keep a thin smile on my face. Sometimes I really do feel calm in the midst of chaos. And once in a while I’ve hit the wall and I lose control and at those moments I am a not a good mother. Why don’t I write about these times? Because I don’t know how to write about them in a way that is helpful to me. And it is impossible to write about these moments without writing about loved ones whose privacy in these matters I don’t want to violate. I have also tried, and not been successful at, writing about things that are very painful to me.
6. If I love you and you are in my family, then you know me as a feisty lass. I don’t put up with any baloney. I also have been known to get defensive. On the flip side, if I don’t know you very well, I come across as too nice.
7. I lose things too often. When I lose things I get impatient.
8. I have a compulsive/impulsive disorder. I’m not sure what it means, but I have it. It has something to do with wanting to be a type A person, but really being a type B person. I have been writing schedules my whole life and wanting to follow them, but never have been able to because deep down I’m impulsive. The impulsive/compulsive disorder also has something to do with having an impulse to do something compulsive, like blog or eat chocolate ice-cream.
9. I am currently soaking my toenail nightly in vinegar to rid it of a fungus that has been there for too long. I have not wanted to take the drugs that also solve the problem because they are supposed to destroy the kidneys or something like that. I’ve had to keep my toenails painted to hide my problem, but once I beat this sucker, I’m going to put a clear polish on and flaunt my healthy toenail. Yay! What? Don’t say ewwwwww.
10. I don’t get my hair done often enough. I need to make an appointment tomorrow.

Now aren’t you happy the big picture stuff wins out more often?

Anyway, in the end I get things done. My life moves forward. My kids are happy and generally a joy to be around when they are not driving me batty (unless they have missed a nap). I give them love, enjoy them, and keep them in line as much as I can. My hair might be only half brushed and I may not bring the best appetizers at any party, but people generally seem to like being around me. I think my friends would describe me as “easy” to be with. I am at an age where I have learned to claim my strengths, as I admit my weaknesses. My strength is my ability to listen, to see people for who they are and appreciate their unique strengths.

The truth is: I am not perfect, and no one in my family is, but because I am a big picture person, in my eyes, my life IS perfect.

The good news is: I probably see your life as perfect, too.

++++++++++++++

I know an impulsive person should never promise to post anything specific, but the compulsive side of me wants to say that my next post will be the “Is two enough?” post. The compulsive side of me wants to say, I’ll post it over the weekend. The impulsive side me might post it earlier.

This conversation occurred two minutes ago while I was changing Hannah’s diaper.

Rachel: Mom, are you thinking what I’m thinking?
Me: I don’t know. What are you thinking?
Rachel: I’m thinking that I love myself. Are you thinking that you love me?
Me: Why, as a matter of fact, yes. (I’m sure somewhere in my subconscious behind my thoughts about the diaper were some I love Rachel thoughts.)
Rachel: (Excited) Then you were thinking what I was thinking!!!

Him: Do you think I should grow a beard? (Not quite seriously.)
Me: (looking at his sexy weekend stubble) No, I like it like that, but not a beard.
Him: Why not?
Me: Well, it would freak me out a little.
Him: Why?
Me: Well…(flustered)….How would you like it if I grew a beard?

If you listen you can hear the angel’s wings
Up above our heads so near they are hovering
Waiting to reach out for love when it falls apart
When it cannot rise above a wounded heart.

Bonnie Raitt, Wounded Heart (Silver Lining, 2002)

DONATION POINTS ON LSU CAMPUS (Call for information on where to have boxes sent)

University Methodist Church
225-344-0343
8:30 a.m. - 4 p.m.
Bedding, toiletries, books, and toys can be brought to University Methodist Church.

Chapel on Campus
225-387-4416
7 a.m. - 7 p.m.
In urgent need of diabetic snacks.
Water, soft drinks, clothing, and food for health care workers, coffee, creamer, sugar, coffee cups, stirrers, Gatorade (individual bottles), individually wrapped healthy snacks (i.e. granola bars, etc.), toiletries for medical staff

St. Vincent DePaul Church
Items need to be brought to 1010 Nicholson (St. Vincent DePaul warehouse)
Contact Vicky at 225-267-4483
Saturday and Sunday 9:30 a.m.-4 p.m., M-F 7:30 a.m.- 4 p.m.
is accepting donations. They especially are in need of the following:
Clothing (specifically underwear and socks (new preferably), baby items (diapers, pull-ups, formula, wipes, etc.), toiletries (deodorant, toothpaste), any other items

Healing Place Church
Located on Highland Road
Contact Myrna at 225-753-2273
In desperate need of nonperishable foods.
Baby items (baby wipes, baby food, formula, diapers, pull-ups, etc.),
not accepting clothes

…is simply this.

As of yet, Hannah has not been able to throw a full-blown tantrum because right as she gets going she always needs to stop and get a cuddle. All of a sudden she’ll stand up with her hands in the air towards me. Then as I pick her up she sticks her thumb in her mouth rolls her head into me.

I’m knocking on wood. Will you join me?

Look what Mary of Elsewhere did for me. She found me “Pretty, Soulful, and On-Tune.” They are for you too, so go take a look or listen.

Now you know what I’ll be listening to this weekend….along with all the song tips all of you gave me…including the ones you sent me earlier, Arethusa.

Thank you, Mary. I needed that. You are the sweetest!

++++++++++++++++

I probably won’t be posting this weekend (other than updating hurricane relief contact information) because I don’t know if I have anything else positive to say about the situation. Mistress Mary (the other Mary), unfortunately I do sometimes curse the darkness and I don’t want to do that here more than I have already. I may just have to stay away.

I have a friend who teaches at LSU. I e-mailed her to see how she was and what I could do. She wrote that the situation is as bad as it looks on television. There are 30,000 refugees in Baton Rouge. That was the report two days ago. She said that the best place to give financial donations to is the Red Cross, which I’ve already done. She also suggested I give to the Greater Baton Rouge Food Bank (donation form availableon-line), which is coordinating with other agencies to feed people there. My friend also said she would take any boxes that I send her to the local relief centers, which are taking donations of bedding, clothes, children’s toys, etc. If I get more specific information I’ll put it here.

I’ve been spending the morning going through closets, the playroom, the linen closet, trying to find things that might help someone feel more comforable. I keep imagining what I might need if I had nothing but the wet, dirty clothes on my back. Or if I was a child in the same situation. Clean clothes. Something small and soft to snuggle up with at night. Something to carry around with not much trouble. Something to claim ownership to, to form an attachment to. We have so many stuffed animals, some hardly ever played with. I’m sneaking some of the lonely, unplayed with ones in my boxes. Rachel will never miss them but is still at an age where it’s hard to let go. Little bags. I keep thinking that it might be important for a child to have a little bag of their own to carry a few things in.

I know it’s not much, but I need to feel like I’m doing something.

Right now, though, they need water to survive. i agree that it’s not helpful to point fingers if it is a purely political gesture, however our political system thrives on pressure from the people. We are a democracy. Our voice is what will keep us a healthy country. If anything our voice will help direct energy toward what is most important. Voicing what we feel is not a hurtful act. It is what we are supposed to be doing as citizens in a democracy. Our system depends on it. The victims depend on it.

I promise I’ll post on something happier when it feels right to me.

If you are willing to open your home to a victim contct: www.TheOpenHouseProject.org.