Just Breathe

Within varied cultures; different rituals, time markings, processes and observations take place during pregnancy. In this tumultuous culture; our 'rituals' or 'traditions' are remarkably signified by a commotion of activity.

Accomplished scientists and researched practitioners have marked this time – defining it’s moment --- Nesting. The word nesting sounds peaceful, melodic, and visually beautiful.

My world is void of this tranquil bubble of space. It has been somehow popped and interrupted. My blood surges in anticipation; not of quiet preparation but of an unrequited momentum.

The roller coaster car reaches the top of its mark and with complete force of gravity, it screams down the rails, converting all potential energy into kinetic energy. I am accelerating from a restful state to a rapid velocity. My reality is satiated with potential and I await the transference with one deep breath after the next.

Closing of eyes, bowing of head, serenity request - deep breath.

Here I go, down the slope, picking up speed and ardent desire. Will I rest at the end with elated exasperation? Desolate frustration? Or a permeated contentment that the end of my journey is complete….or is it? The roller coaster begins again and I am off.

10 minutes

10 minutes passing quickly

10 minutes


10 minutes ...advantage

10 minutes


9 minutes...something needs to be said, something needs to be heard, something needs to be understood.

9 minutes.


8 minutes: my oldest son walks through my bedroom door wearing a 4 day old shirt. In his 8 minutes, he is printing out a map of Gettysburg

8 minutes


7 minutes...my middle son sits on the couch reading his newest acquisition. He will spend these 7 minutes lost in his own world of words, and chosen expressions

7 minutes


6 minutes...my youngest is beside me in mismatched blue pajamas. Yesterday I celebrated her in my quiet way as I saw two mismatched socks on her feet; "She's back!" I happily observed.

6 minutes


5 minutes...it is crucial I profit from this time. Tick, Tick, Tick...gone

5 minutes


4 minutes...a slight anxiousness settles within me. Breakfast, noise, escalating volume of conversation coupled with exploding problems and situations

4 minutes


3 minutes.....my feet shift under the blankets and i begin to think of what to wear. How will i BEGIN my day with my children? How will I approach the shattering of quiet?

3 minutes


2 minutes....a needed observation of time. Quiet. Heated air from the ducts, piano keys mathematical and rhythmic, noses sniffling, and the soundless beauty of falling snow

2 minutes


1 minute....this is all i have. 60 seconds before take off. time -- filling day with ringing telephones, papers shifting, doors opening, feet running, music playing. I will recall these 10 minutes and take into account these past moments of time.

1 minute

1 minute

1 minute

Gone.

All in the Name of.....

This weekend, it was all about you; technically and round about.... it was all about you.

"I wanna make, something beautiful, for you...to show you, I adore you"

Bodies scuried, muscles flexed, minds dialoged, and souls organized.

Each of us on a blinded journey - 41 years of preparation in destination.

This weekend, I sought you out and made you known through frenetic activity. I felt your presence and it cleansed my core.

I made something beautiful for you, for you, from you - to show you, to show you, I adore you.

Time to let go

So, as i stole a few moments in the shower - and as you will come to find out, it was only but a few moments, i quickly reminisced on items that used to annoy me and now, as i take in one deep breath after the next; for it is arduous to breathe these days, i let go piece by piece that of which used to try my patience and temper.

1. 3 minute showers: this has been going on for quite some time. Something is funky with our water heater and our time is stretched day to day. John has not had a chance to look at it and so within the last 2 or so months, we have grown accustomed to 3 minutes of warm water and then ....well, for me, it is time to turn on the blow dryer and warm my body (outisde the shower, mind you).

2. My husband who has not been home before 11pm for close to 2 weeks now. If i tell myself that I am once again a baseball widow and I won't be seeing him until sometime in September; then i can find resolution in all this and it won't cause resentment in our marriage (smile). On a good day, if he does happen to show his face around here, then all the better. Although, he has been told that I am confiscating his cell phone on the day of his child's birth. I understand hsi committment and his truth is his family and support, thereof, but i have since thought of the Twins Organization as the Mafia of Minnesota. Once you sign on the dotted line, you are IN. Currently, he is dealing with the titanic mess a company has brought upon the organization and his time is now their time. THEY are the ones that I am truy disturb me.

3. Tight fitting clothing - i vowed not to buy that many maternity clothes - simply knowing that i would never wear them again, and it would not only be a waste of my money, but a frivolous indulgence. I have two pairs of pants that fit me, the other's are continually being pulled up because they don't fit correctly. I have three maternity tops and the rest comes from my own wardrobe. I used to get frustrated that nothing seemed to fit - and now I really don't care. Last night i was a target and saw a friend who always looks as if a beauty squad is following her. I was wearing one of my worn out pair of maternity pants, a top that crept up my belly and one of john's sweaters to cover everything up. my hair was barely brushed and i had no make up -- well, a little color because my husband informed me that my face looked 'wintery.' as i stared at this well-made up woman, i felt dull and lifeless; but at the same time, i really didn't care. i walked the ailes with pride.

4. Lack of Sleep: This i have simply resigned. I have found a comfortable couch and a very nice down comforter. This is how i spend my evenings - on a couch. but i am getting more sleep than before, so i am thankful.

5. this baby. BUT, i am over that now. Although, he is the root of me having to breathe now with my mouth open to get optimal oxygen, my growing number of varicose veins, my frequent trips to the bathroom, my exhaustion by day's end, and my handicapped type waddle. but the oddity of my angst against him is all by dissapaited.

so, that is my short list.

Stealing Time

The rattle and hum of my children spark a nervous awakening within me. The quiet moment i try to steal is interrupted with jolts of their clattering tones behind the closed door of my room.

30 minutes in time - time, time, time.

What i need from this 30 minutes of time.

The afternoon survival latte sits on the stand beside the bed. the unfolded laundry crowds at my feet and the cupboard doors in the kitchen open and close, open and close.

30 minutes in time.

This time is not in my control. My belly churns as i battle this solitude.
My children agree that mommy needs this time to herself today. my little one comes in and asks me how much longer will i be. I tell her 10 more minutes and i hear her set the timer on the microwave. This moment will now begin with a countdown and the ending beep will dictate a close in passage.

My focus is compromised, my time is almost up and something constructive must come to light.
Tonight, when the dance of the day has come to it's rest and the cat's paws can be heard as it walks, I will be too tired to take in the time. My eyes will be weary, my mood will be solemn and my thoughts will travel to a monotonous land.

For now, this is what I have. This is what I must do. I must breath in this moment, for it will soon begin to fade. That door will open, I will walk across it's threshold and enter once again into the innocent and egocentric lives of my children; who count on me to be present in their moment of time.

And the microwave sounds it's Beeeeeeeeeeeep.
Thanks for listening

DAYBOOK TIME

Well, at -3 degrees, we all sit together in this room and watch lucy pick out today's music. Simon is disappointed that he will have to get his head out of a book. Perry will write his one sentence and feel proud and lucy will make sure that her one to two sentences are well written, and the penmanship is perfect and decorative.

Last night the boys moved down to their new rooms.

today i am grouchy. today i am grouchy. today i am grouchy.

i am not sure how this is all going to play out as the hour hand continues to rotate around the clock; but today i am grouchy :)

people in this place that make statements of wasted energy, or negativity is not worth it and turn it around. i do not posses that talent. I do not turn things around easily. today i am grouchy and the Disney Pop CD that is playing right now doesn't help my disposition. No, it is certain that this CD is not helping.

there is a part of me that says i should be allowed to concentrate on nothing more than this baby that will be here in less than 40 days; but instead, i barely mention the thought of him, or use his image as a subject of my complaint and sighs.

My sister offered for me to come to her place after the baby was born so that i had some quiet bonding time instead of bringing this 4th child into the mix of life that certainly will not slow down simply because of his presence. it sounds alluring.

this is not fitting; but as a quick glimpse of what it used to be....showers that concentrated on the arrival of a newborn, shopping with friends to pick out layettes and bedding, going out to dinners or lunches with friends before the 'big day' to commemorate event. this was when i was younger and that was the stage of we were all in. this is a different stage -- all lives are established and rolling at a steady clip. I am the slow car that merges into the fast paced carpool lane; making everyone take an exasperated notice.

TODAY I AM GROUCHY.

REESES and a SMILE

9:08pm ~~ 17 degrees (but feels like 8)

The garage door opens and the car pulls out. This man will drive down to the store to get his wife a treasured Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

1991- this man comes home from Dessert Storm --into the early morning hours, we get in the car and take a drive. Among many other details, this drive includes a stop at a local gas station for a Reese'sPeanut Butter Cup

1993 - 8pm - after the I do's have been said and the pictures have been taken, I take step into the limousine and on my seat is a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

Through the years, many heart felt exchanges and stressed discussions within our relationship - this man makes the argument that he might not be the perfect husband, but he *does* bring me home Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (smile).

Many times on his way home from work, I send him to the store to pick up extraneous materials -upon arrival home, sitting at the top of the bag is my Reese's.

This evening, after spending time with his family and the house quieted down from the clatter of his children, he places his hand upon my belly, nods knowingly and says, "I know what you want, I will be right back."

There are far too many facets to this man to list and I am not only clinging onto one that selfishly deals with my sweet tooth; it simply made me smile this evening to watch him get off the couch, grab the keys and say, "I will be right back."

New Day

I woke up this morning and made my way out to the kitchen. As my bare feet touched the cold tile floor, i overheard my sons practicing their poem for the week. They are currently playing legos, but waking up in the midst of learning is always heartwarming.

Today, we will go hear the Minnesota Orchestra pay tribute to Leonard Bernstein. His daughter Jamie will be hosting the performance. I love these outings to Orchestra Hall!


*I have a tremendous respect for our military and reading this poem outloud to my kids brings tears to my eyes.

poem for the week

The Blue And The GrayFrancis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the one, the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgement-day
Under the laurel, the Blue,
Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgement-day;
Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue,
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment -day,
Wet with the rain, the Blue
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.

Typing in the Dark

I began a journal for this new life growing inside of me the day I found out I was pregnant. I have entitled the journal, Typing in the Dark. I sat in our dark sun room the evening that I wrote this first passage; the kids were asleep, john was at work, the TV was off and all was quiet with the exception of my pounding thoughts. Here is marking the first passage of Typing in the Dark.

Typing in the Dark

I am 40 years old and pregnant. The cursor blinks with impatience as my stare of the screen blurs. I am 40 and pregnant. I can’t seem to define this in any sense and I wait fervently for news of elated confirmation or saddened misfortune. I am balancing; balancing between the extraordinary possibilities unfolding before me.

This is you at 6 weeks gestation. Already I am building love for you. I look at the cartooned rendering and quietly say, “There you are, baby.” This already is a dream and I am blinded by uncertainty, but you are with me, there is no denying. I am 40. I am nauseous, I am sleepy and my insides are already shifting in great preparation. I close tonight, knowing I will visit the computerized ‘baby calendar’ to check on development. Doctor visits are already scheduled and future plans for your arrival are in constant thought and discussion. One day your siblings will be privy to this awe-inspiring life growing. They too will find a place for you in their hearts and our house will be a buzz with a renewed excitement. Good night to you.

Toying with something I know nothing about at this moment