Thought I'd share a few of my recent cool finds...
I hate the dated ceiling fan hovering over my bed BUT it is nice in the summer time and this is a rental; SO, rather than replace it, I added some bling. This was dual purpose because I also wanted some dangly treasures for Elliott to gaze at.
I love finding other uses for Christmas ornaments.
I know the name on the wall thing has been a bit over done in nurseries, and I did resist it, but how could I not display a name as cool as Elliott? Besides, I found these bohemian letters at World Market...
The tipped "O" on the bottom stands for Ocean
(his middle name). Not sure I like it tipped
I might have to straighten it.
Ok, I wanted birds to nestle in the branches on Elliott's wall but could never find what I was looking for. Instead, I stumbled on these great owl gift cards. The little owls were stuck on the cards with puffy tapeso I just peeled them off and stuck them onto my wall. The mommy owls hung on ribbon. I liked the idea of dangling them from the branches.
I know owls are still birds; just not the
"birdies" from my original vision.
I guess my previous post regarding men might lead one to wonder "what's up?" with my current relationship. I have sat down several times to attempt to post on that subject and always end up in a blog coma. Where to begin? Words??
Klee and I met at a boarding academy 20 odd years ago. He was a cute skater kid with smoldering eyes and an intriguing edge. He was also dating one of my dearest friends. So, we hung in the same circle but our interactions were limited. In fact, I remember thinking he didn't like me all that well. He claims otherwise.
I think our paths crossed once after high school until about a year ago. Timing is a clever and mysterious creature.
Our reacquaintance threw us both off balance. We connected through our writing which allowed a sense of anonymity and honesty. It was at a time when I was struggling heavily and privately with my own heartache. My life felt drowned in pretense. Like I couldn't trust the ground beneath me. My friendship with Klee had a raw quality about it. I needed that. I clung to it.
Klee and I are very similar souls and yet have lived very different lives. He ventured a little farther off of the straight and narrow than I did. He was bold in his experimenting and bares the bruises from it. He is a born poet but can conjure up his inner thug at will. Where I spent my years nurturing my dream of family and home, he opted for bachelorhood and honed his skills as a chef.
Our relationship has never been conventional. Certainly not well thought out. But we offered something to each other that both our hearts were lacking.
Obviously, the timing of this pregnancy was a little earth shattering. Klee and I both had so many personal demons still to battle. My heart was in chaos over my divorce. I was living in a hotel, grasping at any shreds of normalcy left in my life. My identity as mother was being redefined (which terrified me) and now we were adding a fourth (??!!?). The weight of all of this, along with the confusion it created in me, left CherKlee in a state of paralysis. So, we took a break. Time.
I want to be clear that at no point was Klee running away. He was in love with his Biscuit and wanted to do right by all of us. But time apart was necessary. It was good for me. I found Belmont cottage and set up home for my kids. I started writing again. I cried... A LOT. I found comfort in friends which was something I had not done in many years. I baked... A LOT.
Klee was busy too. The work he was doing on himself was profound and was his to conquer, alone. But we wrote. We spoke a few times on the phone; saw each other a few times; but, mostly, we wrote.
As productive as the time apart was, I think we both thought nine months would take a lot longer than it did. I had hoped I would have it all together by my due date. He had hoped to be relocated to this area. By September, Biscuit was threatening eminent arrival and neither of us felt "ready". It was unsettling. With the distance between us, we were both afraid that I would go into labor and he wouldn't make it for the birth. That was unacceptable. So, despite our apprehensions, the decision was made that he would come stay with me while we waited to meet our son and that we would evaluate our situation as it evolved.
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Eh Hemm, me and my three dogs, and my three kids, in my two bedroom, one bath "cottage".
***
There is no way I can possibly overstate the challenge we face in inventing our life together. But, we're creative. And we're learning a lot... A LOT.
I have few theories as to why I have been "gifted" three boys (other than the obvious laws of random selection). First let me state that, despite my hesitation on birthing another boy, from the moment that my sweet Elliott was placed on my tummy I have been deeply in love and can't imagine him as anything other than a perfect little boy.
Ok, so if there is another force at play in the selection of my babies' genders, other than 'this sperm swam with more determination than that one', why would I be chosen to mother three boys?
Men are foreign and scary to me. A few have betrayed me in BIG, devastating ways. This is just a statement of fact. I don't think these men evil. I try not to dwell (well, sometimes I dwell). I know we are all flawed and those flaws lead us to wound those closest to us. **Damn. That is the hardest truth to swallow as a mother.** Anyway, to date, I have yet to experience a traditionally successful relationship with a man. They remain a mystery to me. It is a noticeable handicap of mine. Despite being born a profound optimist, I have managed to develop a magnificent forcefield around my heart.
I wanted the dream like most everyone else. I pursued it intensely. I've seen others find their spouses and have their babies in the accepted order and with the proper outcome. My own grandparents were married 50 and 70 years. Not all happy years but the good outweighed the bad.
I have believed in marriage. Have even been a major advocate for the right to marry. I have to admit though, my belief wavers now. I mean, I support marriage if people so choose. It is a beautiful and romantic notion. I'm just not sure it's always a positive or constructive institution. The 50% success/failure rate is a bit discouraging and, so far, I'm two for two in the darker half. It hurts to embrace something so completely and face disillusionment. It hurts to lose the faith.
My therapist says these are normal thoughts for someone with my experiences. He says there's a good chance I'll change my opinion and feel safety in love again... some day. I don't know. I hope so. I still love the idea of building a life in union with another. I don't know if marriage is the key to that or not. I have so many clouded questions about human nature, love, men, and accepted social norms. In fact, if you have insight to share on the topic of marriage, please do.
So, three boys in my care. Such a huge responsibility for someone so ill equipped in the category of love and men. And yet, if ever I've fallen in true, uninhibited, lay myself down on the tracks, LOVE; it has been when my babies were placed in my arms. I so want to do them justice. I want them to feel loved and to love well. I want them to successfully bond with another and build beautiful lives.
Can this be one of those "do as I say, not as I do" things?
