good reads

i am on a reading kick. first anne lamott's operating instructions, which blew my head off, and now the mother trip by ariel gore.

ladies, where have you been all my life, or at least for the last ten months of it? in fairness, my sweet beezie sent me both of these pre-max, but as i said before in a lame attempt at an excuse, i have been a little preoccupied reading up on the sleep books, the development books, and the occasional bad mystery/thriller/courtroom drama fluff thrown in for the sake of escapism (i'm looking at you, jodi picoult) .

but oh, ariel gore. you SPEAK to me. i mean, the first page of the book contains this quote (and only this quote) smack dab in the middle:

"One must have chaos in oneself to give birth to a dancing star."
-FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

i know that ariel is the voice of the new mamas, the old mamas, the mamas who are finally standing up and saying, "this is crazy."

but really, a dancing star? who is more a dancing star if not master maximillian wolfeinelli? this i ask you.

oh ladies, thank you for coming into my life. anne and ariel and each and every one of you.

grammy in the house

my mom left today. she hopped on her grammy plane and into her little grammy car back to her grammy house.

i am looking around this place that i really do love, how despite the stained mauve 80's carpet, the wood paneled hallway (and not wood paneled in a kitschy, cool 70's way--wood paneled in the same old awful, cheap, dark way), the spots of peeling paint on the ceiling-- despite these flaws, she shines, this old place. it makes me feel like the grinch from the grinch who stole christmas, as i squint my eyes, give them a rub, and peer in to take a closer look:

she came and she scrubbed-- the toilet, the tiles!
she cleaned out the cabinets, the sinks, the files!

she swept and she mopped, washed dishes, made beds!
she held crying babies, walked dogs, kept us fed!

she took us to dinner! she scooped up the litter!
she stocked up our fridge! she dusted! she swiffered!

but seriously, y'all, my mom ironed my comfy pants.

who does this?
love is an action.

more will be revealed...

cryptic title, isn't it?

i have decided to adopt this way of thinking, give it a good home in my psyche. pre-max, my sister gave me a copy of anne lamott's operating instructions, which between sleep books and preggo books and no-need-to-panic-and-call-the-doctor type books i hadn't gotten around to reading.

silly me.

of course, it would have pretty much rendered this blog obsolete, because sweet annie says in her hilarious and infectious voice everything i have been feeling over this last year, but much more eloquently. one of her yummy morsels of wisdom comes from her AA friends (the author is a former addict herself), who remind her that "more will be revealed". how true these words are in the context of, well, everything, but especially so when one is dealing with addiction and loved ones.

what are lies? what is the truth? my husband has spent so much of the last twelve months or so trying to sift through all of this-- trying to catch her in her lies, to trap the rat and make it speak the truth. and in time, over and over again, more is revealed....more ends tied up so that confusing behavior, requests for money, excuses, failures, crises, twisted blame-- all are revealed and more will be to come.

my poor husband. how much he gives and gives until he just can't take care of this phantom whisper of a real person any more. yet he forgives and he tries again. and again.

max is turning one in less than a month. i can't believe it. i mostly can't believe that i am sitting here thinking, "where has the time gone?" when the days i have spent have at times felt like a small eternity. yet this little larvae of a person is crawling around me at the speed of light, laughing until he can hardly breathe, taking it all in and then some. my sister told me once that you can't expect it to be easy, having your heart running around outside of your body.

september song

it's a rainy september 12 and it was a rainy september 11. fitting-- i always feel funny when september 11 is a beautiful day in new york.

max is a little man of many teeth (five and counting), a crawler, a drummer, a smiler, a hugger, a CLIMBER. we are starting to deal with the heart-wrenching and all too frequent occurrences of head bumps, falls, and overall dangerous behavior (like standing in the tub, slipping, and busting tiny rosebud lips on ceramic soap holders). yet he soldiers on and lives to explore another day.

i am learning as he learns. it is my job to teach him everything. i am learning that i need to let go. that a great mom is a flexible mom, and that i have no choice to be otherwise if i want to be happy. i am learning that love does not always equal happiness, and that is ok. love can equal loneliness and isolation, but you love those little ones so much that you just do it. you do it all anyway and somehow it just makes sense.


(my boys swimmin' this summer:)