5.02.2013

little by little


because I'm tired.  because this allergy-induced sneezy gunkiness is wearing on me.  because I think I should be able to expect more from her sometimes.  because I think I should be able to expect more from me sometimes.  because I'm tired.

all answers given (some out loud, others not) when my love called me out on by general unpeachiness last night.  no, he did not call me unpeachy.  he said something along the lines of "I'm getting frustrated by the dynamic between you two these days...... you just seem more and more frustrated by her lately." ouch.  but true.  I have, it would seem, not been exceptionally fun to be around the last handful of days.  my patience has been eluding me and I've only made half-hearted attempts to grasp it when it comes within reach.  instead I've been lazily swatting it away as if to say 'no thanks, too hard.  come another day.'

we all have our ups and downs.  generally I feel a lot more up than down.  generally I try dang hard to stay in the moment with her and remember that is I, after all, who is the grown up, and thus I should act accordingly.  and patiently.  and grown up-ly.

but it doesn't always play out like that.  of course it doesn't.  and the poor girl, I haven't even been consistently or predictably grumpy.  things are fine, fine, fine, and then, perhaps triggered by one of these three year old meltdowns over nothing I can see or put my finger on, I feel my jaw tense and my heart builds a teeny little wall and I just feel so. over. it.  I just want to go to the garden alone and bury my frustrations and fears and shortcomings in the soil.  I want to fling the bitterness away and watch it get gobbled up like the grubs I pull from the beds for the hens (though I don't suppose I want to wish for bitter eggs).  I know I'm not supposed to feel that way.  I know my heart should never build walls, no matter how teeny tiny, that will stand in between this sweet one and I.  I know (I mean, I don't exactly remember firsthand but I can surely see now) that three is something quite hard to be.  I feel myself hardening when the tears come sometimes.  even though I know tears are not something to feel attacked by or begrudge.  these meltdowns, they are hard and fast.  thank goodness they are fast.  surely part of the edginess I'm feeling them bring out in me lately is due to a feeling of helplessness on my part.  I want to help.  to fix.  to soothe.  I am denied access and I don't have the proper key nor can I produce acceptable answers.  or maybe I do but they aren't doled out in the proper sequence.  it's tricky, remember.  all very particular.  and no I'm not referring to her as it, but rather this ongoing dance we find ourselves in.

at the same time I know better than to allow myself to feel too guilty about these things.  I know there is no perfect mother.  I know it's deliciously easy to be one until you actually are a mother and then.... well, then all bets are off and we just do what we can.  and then beat ourselves up accordingly.  or not.  and that, I think, is the key- working on the 'not'.  on being okay with what is and plugging along to make it right and well whenever humanly possible.  when last I wrote about this sort of thing (as opposed to, say, bees or chickens or the current state of my yard and garden) I received these very helpful and wise words from the wonderful miss Karen Maezen Miller: (who I can only imagine found my humble little space through some technical gadgetry that informed her I'd mentioned her here, in that post)



"Little by little, one moment at a time, and forgive. This just about covers it. With love."



think I may just have to write that out and tape it to the bathroom mirror.  or better yet, to many surfaces here around the house.  and so it goes.  our days are tricky sometimes, as everyone's days are.  I remind myself to focus on the joys and to remember them more than the rest, and it helps.  I remind myself that I am blessed beyond words and that my challenges (while they may at times feel very difficult to me) pale in comparison to the much more raw and life-splintering challenges felt and experienced across this wide world.  I read the books I read to find my calm and my center, I lay with her and read at night, snuggled up together in a state of coziness that nothing could possibly penetrate or dilute.  she asks me to come closer.  "closer, mama, closer, I want to kiss you.  closer mama, so I can hold you..." and the rest just kind of melts away.  as it should.  as it is meant to.

and what is left is the sweet, sweet goodness that makes the world go 'round.


I write this while sitting at the desk with the window open, allowing the birdsong to come in and kiss my ears.  it rained last night and the world feels and smells fresh and clean, as it does after a gentle spring rain.  I'm up before she is, something I'd gotten the hang of and then lost this last couple weeks. with a mug of tea in hand and a sweater to balance out the coolish morning breeze coming in, I can't say I'd have it any other way.  good medicine, all of it.

17 comments:

  1. Amanda... oh how I love this. I just want to thank you for daring to write with such honesty.... it's beautiful. I have similar struggles with my two, who my goodness, are getting so grown up. You've given me a new perspective. Or maybe one that's not as new as it is truthful and forgiving and precious. :)

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    1. thank you, Lisa~ it felt good to get back to writing something more real for a change. I love chronicling our daily adventures and quasi-homesteading ups and downs in this space, but sometimes I need a good nitty gritty outpouring of all the rest. please tell those kiddos hello for me! xo

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  2. you are so not alone in this. not at all. i've had some rather unpeachy behavior myself as well and it took the mr. calling me on the carpet to snap that thread. trying slowly to reel myself in.

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    1. it's funny- it totally takes that sometimes, doesn't it? like we just want/need to regress a bit and not put in the energy to deal with the day-to-day in a more graceful way. graceful isn't always easy. nor is the re-entry to graceful.

      thank you for sharing.

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  3. I spent the last hour responding to this...then the internet crashed and lost it all...ahhhh Life in paradise : ) Now, I only have the energy to tell you that I really appreciated this post, I'm right there with you sweet mama. Just know that you are such an amazing mother and from the moment I met you, felt inspired by your wisdom. Much love to you!
    PS...post the inspirational quotes, i'm doing the same! Keep our crazy minds in check!

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    1. ah, Lauren! hi! thanks sweet lady, that means a lot and I appreciate your kindness and encouragement.

      how are you down there in paradise, anyway?
      xoxo

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  4. Oh Amanda - what a beautiful and honest post. Remember, you are not alone - I, too, had my moments of unpeachiness yesterday. Bea was having meltdowns (she is really bossy these days - and I think - gosh - would I let adults boss me around this way??? No!) and so I had one, too. Sigh. Like you said before - it is good for them to see our range of emotions and states.

    And yes, the guilt is always there, but it does not serve us well, non? Forgiveness and love - they are key. Give yourself the same love and compassion that you give your little one. It's hard sometimes, but we need it. Our little ones need happy, well and functioning mamas.

    Your self-awareness is inspiring.

    Big big hug to you from across the pond.

    ps - keep having those teas - they make everything better :)

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    1. thank you so much, Renee~

      there's nothing like meeting fire with fire to make the whole household an interesting place to be, eh? I tell myself (in little pep talks after things settle) that by allowing her to see my range of emotions, and allowing her her own, I am giving her the gift of not worrying about aiming for perfection. have to look for that silver lining, right?

      will do! you know, I enjoy coffee equally as much, but it just doesn't say comfort quite like a good cup of tea~

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  5. I read this post earlier today and as I was reading it, I kept thinking to myself that what really helps me to get through the rough patches is a true, honest talk with another trustworthy friend who has or is walking the same path. I want to hear the nitty gritty. I want to feel comfortable speaking about the nitty gritty. Sometimes in order to get through the gunky stuff, we just need to feel safe admitting that the gunk is there. Because it is! It's as prevalent as the beauty! I promise, every struggle you have with yourself or with C are struggles that we all have with our own children. Or at least I have.

    Karen's words are spot on. Right now, I'm in a place where I'm not trying to be the perfect mom. I'm totally overloaded with parenting advice being doled out left and right in every nook and cranny of my day. I'm good enough. I love her...in immeasurable amounts...but I'm flawed. She's flawed. (Maybe that's my fault -- maybe it's not). This world is flawed. We love and we forgive. And we repeat the cycle over and over. And we both know that no matter what, there is always love.

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    1. isn't that the truth? whenever I'm feeling down about things and feeling a bit lonely in my troubles, nothing helps more than a heart-to-heart with a dear friend. within minutes I gain a new perspective (or, am reminded at least of a better one) and am quickly reminded that I am far from being alone in these sort of things. and yes, I do think we all have such similar struggles with our children (and our partners) and we have to make time to connect with each other over the 'gunk' as much as (if not more than) all the rest~

      I'm with you on tossing out the perfect mom goal. as if there's any such thing, anyway. we are all flawed, no doubt. sometimes I think our sweetest conversations (mine and Claire's) happen after things have settles down after a rough patch, and we talk about it a bit.

      love, love, love.

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  6. Oh sweet. You made me cry, the good kind. They're all good.

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    1. all cathartic in one way or another, that's for sure~ thank you, Karen, for taking the time to stop in and comment. your words and your outlook (and I realize of course that they are the products of much personal work and plenty of your own 'gunk' along with beauty) are encouraging and centering. so thank you.

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  7. As the mom of a 2.5 year old and a 3.5 month old I think I need to print this out!! Most days it's easy to remember how lovely life is, some days not so much. That's when the unpeachyness creeps in. Thank you!!

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    1. oh you are most welcome. typically these days my writings are much less personal and touch on things like gardening and what I ate for breakfast and such...... it is when I need it most myself that I tend to write more from the heart.

      Claire is a bit over three and thus far an only child. I imagine that adding an infant to the mix would certainly make for some challenging days! here's hoping your lovely days far outweigh the more difficult ones, I know that foggy feeling of early baby days can be tough to get through, especially given you're most likely not getting near enough sleep!

      cheers from nc~

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  8. I don't have to go to far to you know...you know...we are all right there with you mamma...rejoice and be glad...there is ALWAYS love...
    http://sweetpotatoclaire.blogspot.com/search/label/this%20moment

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  9. Gosh, I think any mother who can't admit she's been there is lying. There is something every single day I think I could have done, should have done differently. But this is life. And yes, love heals, love wins, and being AWARE means we are open to continually growing. I think when our kids see our willingness to be "wrong" and to that means a lot to them.
    We're all human.
    XO
    C

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    1. indeed we are. and the daily reflections on something that could have been done differently...... that's exactly it. and after all, (as you said) without that, there'd be no room for growth.

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thanks for taking the time to read and comment~