a mother is a mother is a mother

rob-sheridan.com

I've been thinking about women.  I've been thinking about how throughout the world we are so different. We lead such different lives. And yet, we are fundamentally all the same.

Did you see the documentary called "Babies"? It illustrates this point beautifully.

If you are a mother, or even if you aren't a mother but someone who has loved a child more than yourself, you are part of the collective.

Your skin might be different. Your clothes might be different. Your religious beliefs might be different. But when all that is stripped away and you are left with only your soul, I think we will see that we are daughters of one God. Sisters.

I honestly believe that the love parents have for thier children is the strongest force on Earth.  It matters not if you live in Chicago or Peru or Russia. I wish that I had more oppurtunity to meet women from other walks of life that are crazy about their children the way I am crazy about mine.  Motherhood has a way of creating insant friendships.

Anyway, these are the things that have been on my mind.

Also, I'd like to add that the two babies at the beginning of the "Babies" trailer act exactly like my two babies. That fight plays out in my house everyday. Only the skin color is different.

the little things

Amelie 1 year old

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
~Henry David Thoreau

At thrity-six I'm learning to live. My children are teaching me what life is really all about. It's the little things.

Yesterday I held all of my children in my arms (there's three now you know). Amelie planted open mouth slobbery kisses on Henry's head and tried to poke him in the eye. Thom put his skinny little arm around my neck and told me a knock knock joke. They wiggled and squirmed and we laughed.

Last night I rested my head on my husband's chest and listed to his heart beat. Beating for me.

It's the little things. Like being naked in the sun, eating a banana.

Dear Universe, please record these moments that make my heart sing and play them back to me as I leave this life so that I will know that I really lived.

a field journal

Day 2213:

I am now entering my seventh year living with and studying homo sapien pediactris. My work here has been very difficult, but rewarding. I find that the stress of this job has brought on a rash of grey hairs and a keen paranoia regarding foul smells. Homo sapien pediactris is a fascinating species. By and large, they are fun seeking creatures with little regard for personal hygiene.

The largest and eldest of the group is a male known as "Thom". Over the past few years Thom has grown more and more detached from me and I count myself lucky on those days when he welcomes me into his world. If I'm really lucky, he will sit with me and allow me to stroke his hair while he munches on fruits and berries. Strawberries are his favorite and I will often offer him a bowl of ripe berries to entice him to spend time with me.

"Amelie", the female, has established herself as the dominate personality in the group. She is prone to fits of rage and dramatic displays of emotions if she is displeased. The males regard her with mild curiosity but for the most part she is ignored. She often seeks out attention from the older male by any means necessary which often results in conflict. Amelie is a particularly attractive specimen and she has been very successful at acquiring food and winning favor with the local natives.

The smallest of the group we call "Henry". He has a sweet disposition and charming manner. At first, Amelie showed signs of jealousy and aggression toward this new, smaller, addition. But as the weeks have passed, her jealousy has morphed into intense curiosity. I find I must be vigilant regarding Henry's safety while Amelie is in the immediate area. Hopefully, Henry will grow strong quickly and be able to defend himself from her well intended, but sometimes violent, advances.


It must be noted that all three creatures regard me as their leader. I am expected to deliver food on a daily basis at least three times during day. As much as I love my work here in the field, I find that sometimes I need a respite. During these times, I seek out a dark quiet hiding spot, away from the heathens, to be alone with my thoughts. However, these creatures have what can only be described as a superpower which helps them locate me no matter where I might go.

Sleep alludes me here in the jungle. I am awoken by many strange noises throughout the night. Sometimes I find myself nodding off in the day which frightens me. I worry about the female destroying some of my equipment or harming the younger male while I snooze. I have doubled my caffeine intake in an attempt to stay fully alert.

I expect my partner to arrive later today with supplies from Costco. My spirits are always lifted when new supplies arrive. Funny what comfort one can find in a ice cream bar in a place like this.

I will push forward with my work here and pray that the good Lord sees fit to give me the strength to carry on.

April Meeker ~ May 10, 2010

all images a field journal

3

When the Boy was born, my good friend Shelley bought him an Amy Coe knitted chenille blanket. It became his blankie. He loved it dearly. He still does.

Shortly after we shipped off our adoption papers to China, I was in Target and I spotted the same blanket in pink. I wanted our daughter to have one to match Thom's. I hopped she would love it just as much. And although our little girl turned out to have strawberry blond curls instead of jet black locks, she does indeed love her pink blankie.

And then the Little Mister made his unannounced arrival. How could he not have his own Amy Coe?

But Target no longer sold this particular blanket, which is a terrible shame, because every child should have one.

I was fit to be tied. So I took to Ebay.

Now, I must admit here that I have a rocky relationship with Ebay. The problem stems from the fact that I am compelled to bid out of spite. I get mad at people who try to outbid me and even though I give myself a set limit, a top bid per the value of a given item, emotion takes over.

I once paid fifteen dollars for a set of pencil toppers that were only really worth a couple bucks. Spite drove me to do it. Spite.

Long story short? I ended up paying a ridiculous amount for a green Amy Coe blanket that is just like my other kids. Henry will have his blankie.

I honestly thought I would only have two. I have two matching baby photo albums. Two silver rattles. Two sets of children's chopsticks.

I built my studio in the last empty bedroom.

But I like three. As a designer I know that odd numbers are better.

Now to find a matching baby photo album...

just cuz your breathing it doesn't mean you're alive

Sometimes at the end of the day, after the Boy and the Bird are fast asleep, I hold my baby. I lay him on my chest over my heart. I nuzzle my face into his neck and breath his sweet baby smell and his downy baby hair tickles my nose.

We take deep breaths together. He grunts and whinnies and stretches but he always resettles back into me as if there was some sort of magnetic force pulling us together. Who knows, maybe their is such a force between mothers and their babies.

There have been days lately when I haven't felt human. Honestly I feel like a robot mommy. Change the diapers, make the bottles, pick up the toys, bathe the baby, haul the kids to the car, buckle, get the snacks, wash the onesies, etc. etc. etc.

I don't think, I just do. Just get er' done.

But every now and then I snap out of it. I will glace over at my daughter, squatting on chubby legs, stacking blocks or trying to wrap her baby doll in a blanket and my heart sings. I feel more alive than ever.

And at night, when the house is quiet, when I breath with Henry, I am reminded that this is life. This is what it is all about.

And I don't want to miss it.

I will continue on with all the daily chores. I will take care of my family to the best of my ability. But from here on out, I'm making a little promise to myself that I will open my eyes and watch my children grow.

the big bother

2006

Birdie is walking around the furniture. She is tittering this way and that and falling quite a bit. I love to watch her fat little legs as she maneuvers around. The concentration on her face.


I'm trying to soak it all in. I'm trying not to forget.


Not so long ago it was the boy I was watching. I miss my baby boy. He is long gone and in his place I find a wise crackin' string bean. Every ounce of babyness was gone in a wink of the eye. Poof!


He yells at his sister when she slobbers on his toys.


He whines when she jabbers so loud he can't hear the television.


He is repulsed by her stinky diapers.


But he loves her and it is magic to me to see the two of them together. As far as Birdie is concerned, Thom can do no wrong and the closer she can be to him the better. I was never one to worry about loving a second child like I did my first. What I didn't anticipate though, is how much my love for my son grows when I watch him love his sister.

full

I've never gone hungry.

Sure, there were times when I was first married that our cupboards were bare. One time we ate canned pineapple for a week until the next paycheck came. But the paycheck did come and we didn't loose any weight. Unfortunately for me.

My belly has never known true hunger.

But my heart has.

My heart has been cold and shrived and hard for want of a child. My heart has been starved to bitterness.

Sadly, I fear I didn't do very well on this life test.

This year my heart is big and full and bursting out of my chest. This Thanksgiving I fall to my knees and thank the Lord every chance I get for my miracle children.

This year my want is completely gone. This year I can't think of a single thing I don't already have.

Why am I so blessed?

Luck?

And so my prayer is one of much gratitude and thanksgiving with one more tiny request.

Please Lord, let me live a life deserving of all that I have.

bogged blog

Here's a question for ya.

Why is it that when mothers of young children wear skirts, said children love to lift up the skirt and expose things that mother's seldom want exposed?

I was waiting for my burrito at Rubio's and watching a little girl slowly push her mother's dress up until an entire hip was exposed. The mother was paying for her food and didn't notice.

I, of course, got a good laugh at this, because, well, it is funny as long as it isn't happening to me.

It reminded me of the time I was paying for books and I felt a draft only to discover that Thom's head was against the small of my back and he was holding up my skirt for all the world to see.

Thank heaven it was a book store and most people's noses were buried in their books because, I guarantee, with the kind of underwear I wear- it wasn't a pretty sight. These saddle bags have a few oats in them.

Here's another question:

Why is it that sticky baby fingers always find the tender hair at the nape of your neck?

And this:

Why is it that the baby always spits up in the few seconds before you put on a dry bib?

To be honest, I'm totally bogged down in parenthood right now. Birdie was diagnosed with acid reflux and the boy has a ragging case of End of Summer Obnoxiousitis. For me this means there is a whole lot of crying going on at my house and quite frankly it has lead me to ask myself another question.

Why is it I don't drink?

spilling the beans

The decision is made. What sweet beans to spill.

The girl's name Amelie \a-me-lie\ is a variant of Amelia (Latin, Old German) and Emily (Latin). The meaning of Amelie is "industrious, striving; work; rival; laborious; eager."

Brooke is a family name that is near and dear to my heart.

Ben is calling her Elle. Thom is calling her Ellie. And me? I'm calling her Birdie.

I held a green bough in my heart and a singing bird has come.

*************************************

The nursey is almost finished. Hopefully I can give you a little peek into Amelie's room this weekend!

on an up note. . .

I know, I know, a Secondsister Jewelry giveaway has been a long time coming, but here it is! These lovely "Meadow" earrings are up for grabs! Leave a comment, and on Monday I'll use one of the weird little online random number picker thingys to choose a winner. Tell your friends! Shout it out! FREE JEWELRY HERE! GET YOUR FREE JEWELRY!

That's not all I have for you either. After a small stint of moodiness this past week, I thought I'd share a few more reasons to be happy about today.

Now available through Nendo- chocolate pencils. Yes, indeed ladies, chocolate pencils. Now, for all intents and purposes, these pencils were created to use as a baking tool to create shavings for desserts. However, I see no reason to spend time sharpening the pencils just so you can get a miniscule amount of chocolate on top of your molten lava cake. I intend to eat these pencils like a carrot. That's how I roll.

As long as we are talking about chocolate, and all things wonderful, check this. My baby sister and her hubby will be married 5 years this November and I happen to know that they are more in love today than they were on their wedding day. Believe in marriage.

Every parent, ahem, every good parent, thinks that their baby's bottom is the cutest thing around. We can't help it. It comes with the territory. I gave birth to my son and in the midst of all the emotion and commotion, I distinctly remember thinking, "Well look at that. That is about the cutest bum I've ever seen." And then I collapsed from exhaustion.

So in China, they put their children in bottomless pants. They say it is for practical reasons, you know, for potty training and all, but I'm not so sure. Baby bottoms- another reason to smile today.

the big idea

Last night I was brushing Thom's teeth before bedtime. We talked a little about how if we don't brush our teeth the "sugar bugs" will eat holes in them.

"Mom, I know why the sugar bugs make the holes."

"Why's that?"

"For tunnels and doors for their city."

"Oh, you're probably right."

"Mom, we shouldn't kill the sugar bugs because they are nice."

"But they eat holes in our teeth."

"Yeah, but I think they are nice. Do they have legs?"

"Humm, I don't know if they have legs, but, we just brush them off our teeth and spit them down the drain and then they can build their city in the drain and not in our mouth where they can ruin our teeth."

I tucked Thomas into his bed and laid down by him. He likes someone to lay with him for a while, and it is a good time to talk one on one so I humor him.

"Mom! I know! We can get one of my teeth, when it gets loose, and put it in a jar and whatdosugarbugseatagain!?"

"Sugar."

"Oh yeah. And then we can get some sugar and sprinkle it on the tooth andthenthesugarbugscanliveonthattooth!!!!"

"Oh well that's an idea, but I think sugar bugs would prefer to live in peoples mouths."

"Oh."

We laid there for a while. Thomas wiggled around and kicked me a few times.

"Mom, the road outside belongs to God."

"Really? Time to go to sleep now."

"Mom, when our China baby grows up she will be my sister, right?"

"Yep, your little sister. Good night Mr. Bean."

"Mom, is my bike outside?"

"I don't know, go to sleep."

"Mom, I'm thirsty."

"No you're not. Go to sleep."

Silence.

"Mom?"

"What Thomas? What is it now?!!"

"I love you."