small and large things

I had been saving all Ramona's little clothes for the last two and half years just in case we had another little girl. But we are not, and this is the last baby for me. So we get rid of them? Bin after bin of things my precious girl wore? We just give them away? I have tucked them in the basement, because I can't really deal with hard stuff right now.

I wasn't sure from where all the heartbreak came. After all, my new baby is coming and this is a time to be excited. What is wrong with me? Over the weekend I was going through my nephew's clothes. Some of them I liked, and others I didn't. I made quick piles of her things. No big deal for me. But my sister sat in desperation. Flinching every time I put something in the wrong pile. I chided her unkindly for acting crazy, and she responded, "But that's my life right there."

And those words settled into my brain. Crazy, and beautiful. That pile of old clothes her baby wore is her life? And I am just the same. I'm sad about the bins of pink. I'd be sad no matter what they looked like, because she wore them and she won't wear them again. These are the obvious lessons that come hard to moms.

How did we get to this point where a pile of old bottles, a plastic bin of onesies could become something we would point to and claim as our life? These small and large things are what will totally break our heart in the end.

the boy kind

The reason we needed another baby is because of the florescent lighting in the bathroom at work. Every time I went in there I saw grey hair. Grey hair that is or isn't there. I'd glance at my hair and immediately my ovaries would begin to worry.

So, despite the fact that one is always enough, we are having two. And I am scared. And happy. But like roller coaster happy scared where you know it could be dangerous, but you believe everything is going to be amazing.

Our new baby is going to be the boy kind. I always wanted to have a son, even though I never wanted to have a son. Girls are my people. But at the same time, when I taught first grade I always found the boys daunting and lovable in a way that made me want one for keeps. But still, I'm nervous and feel like having a son is not unlike inviting a strange and funny monkey to tea.

new year

This year has been new for five days. It's not too late to write about it. I didn't make a resolution this year, despite how I love setting goals, failing at goals, and feeling miserable about them. It wasn't a conscious effort. I just didn't get around to it. Kind of like how I forgot to write about Christmas.

I spent New Years with my sick little girl. Late at night, she woke with a high fever and a very scary dream about dinosaurs in her room. Her high fever scared me and the maturity of her dream made me so sad. I remember the scary dreams of childhood. So, I brought her to bed with me.

She was immediately comforted, so relieved to be in mama's bed. She sang goofy little songs to me, and told me weird, funny things. Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree, I really like your branches. We laid there for awhile, scratching her back, petting her head, waiting for her fever to break. She coughed in my face, her hot arms wrapped around my neck. At the same time, my tiny little baby wiggled deep inside. My blessings all drawn up around me.

I am always surprised that Ramona feels the same way for me that I do my own mother. I somehow bring her the kind of comfort one expects from a Mother. Despite being flawed and all wrong, and sometimes unkind, I am exactly right.

war is over

The morning after Occupy Los Angeles was cleared out I sat at the table with Brian, ranting with my loud and revolutionary heart. Somehow, things spill out of my mouth, as they have before, things filled with violence. I say things, angry things. People should be afraid to make that much money, I say. I know this is a threat.

On the radio, Happy X-mas (War is Over) plays. I pick up my little girl, I rock her and I cry. Because it isn't a civil war I am wanting. The anger is wetted by my sadness. I look at my breakfast, I look down at my daughter's head. I feel how complex the whole thing can be. I feel sad and scared. I feel mad and stolen from. I feel like fighting. I feel like making peace. Mostly I just feel bad and I cry.

toddler gift guide

I asked Ramona a few days ago what she would like to get her dad for Christmas. I wasn't really expecting a real answer, but she told me she wanted to get him a toy. When I asked her what kind of toy, she said, "A flashlight!" I was amazed. Yeah! He would like a flashlight! Suddenly I realized I am off the hook on picking out gifts. I ask Ramona, she picks out something wacky and then we are done.

We are getting my dad Play-doh. He will love it.

A good friend of mine is celebrating a birthday today. This morning I asked Ramona what we should get her and quickly she came up with Christmas lights. Perfect!

Ramona is a gift giving savant. You have all been forewarned.

the lighter side of very good news

A conversation between Ramona and her Mother:

Me: "Ramona, would you like a brother or a sister?"

Ramona: "Mama, I already have a brother. My brother Sophie."

Sophie is our dog.

once and again

I was pregnant once. And then it went away, because it wasn't really there. I lost it in an afternoon. In a moment of across the great beyond knowledge I confessed to a friend, I'm holding onto this thing with everything I've got. I knew I guess, because a few hours later it began. I stood up from my desk and took myself home.

In the car I heard a song on the radio. This is all I remember. I remember that it was loud and I wanted to fill my ears up with it because I was losing something and I knew it.

One song turned into another, Personal Jesus performed by Mr. Johnny Cash, which only confirms for me that Johnny and God have close personal ties. This song served to remind me that I'm only the next in a long line of humans to have it given and taken away from.

Accepting the loss of that pregnancy was a strange kind of bliss for me. I'm holding onto this thing with everything I've got. I really was. And to just surrender was a relief. Of course, I stumbled with disbelief and hope, but by evening I knew it was going away and I just exhaled the rest of the way with it.

Now, I am next in the line to be given something. I am pregnant with my second child once again. I have been more afraid this time. I hesitated to tell anyone. Sometimes I am so afraid of the open wild possibilities of our lives. When I close my eyes I see the baby inside me floating in space. I have not wrapped my heart around this thing yet. But I will.