Elliott's Owls

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 tape so 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.

Elliott's wall.

It's nothing spectacular but it makes me happy...

and Elliott seems to like it.

The CherKlee Chronicles

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.

And then came Biscuit.

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.  

***

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.  

Those Beautiful Scary Boys

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?    

Ahh, but I love them so...

Is There Anybody Out There?

Hello?  Is anyone still reading my blog?  I know I've been MIA for far too long and you may have given up on me, but I'm still here.  Just limping along, wondering where the hell my groove is at.  Anyway, let's see if I can catch you up a bit...

I'm proud to present my greatest accomplishment this decade:

Elliott Ocean Wiles Pearson

Born 10/22/2010 at
10 lbs, 2 oz, 22 inches long

I'd love to share my well-earned war story (birth) with you, but am feeling overwhelmed with all that I want to update you on; so the abbreviated version is: I'm pretty sure I was in labor for the last month of my pregnancy but it wasn't until 41 weeks and my THIRD trip to the hospital that I was able to convince the doctors that I was DONE.  After 19 hours of labor, my sweet TEN pound, two ounce Biscuit, Elliott was placed on my belly.  I wept uncontrollably.  Smitten beyond belief.   

Ok, so let's see; since Elliott's birth...

We said goodbye to our sweet piggy, Princess.

09/2006 - 10/2010

In memory...

We trick-or-treated,

ate turkey, 

Thelma

and, after a two page diagnostic report (including such descriptions as, "your car's engine is only being held in by gravity,"), we put Thelma out to pasture.  This was only made possible by the unfathomable generosity of Elliott's great grandfather who provided us with my dream car, a minivan!

Hmmm, back to Elliott.  As I've mentioned in earlier posts, Elliott's daddy, Klee, has arrived to join our little circus and raise his son with me.  Our story has been developing in a most unorthodox fashion and probably deserves some commentary.  I may refer to the "CherKlee" chronicles in the future.  Stay tuned.

I'm certain that there's much more that I wanted to address.  Also pretty sure I could have written more eloquently.  Regardless, I blogged.  Now on to bigger hurdles like showering...

Packed My Bag Today

Time to wait.  

People ask, "are you ready?"  Chuckle.... "NO!"  But, who ever really is?  Is it possible to be fully prepared to bring a new human life into the world?  Seriously, if it is possible PLEASE someone fill me in.

At least I have the advantage of experience.  I'm kind of like the Bitch that has mellowed after producing a few litters.  It's only a little sad because she's also lost her own puppy spunk...

I've graduated to the, "I'm tired... Hand me the pickles... These pillows aren't cutting it... Where's my fan?... Damn machine is shrinking everything!!... What do you mean Attitude?.." phase of pregnancy.  This is about the time that those close to me start "suggesting" helpful methods for speeding things up a bit.  (Although, those who have experienced postpartum Cherie are a little more long-suffering with this phase.)

The major milestones have passed.  Kids are settled back in school.  Daughter's slumber party was a success.  Car seat has been acquired.  And, most significantly, Biscuit's daddy, Klee, has arrived and is actively lightening my load.  I'm officially 37 weeks today.  FULL TERM.  Time to exhale (briefly). That, and eat the broccoli-cheese soup, biscuits (the non-baby kind) and pie that Klee has been creating for us in our tiny Belmont Cottage Kitchen.

37 weeks, 1 cm dilated, baby engaged.

Ready or not...

Rocking chair ready to serve. 

This Woman's Work (36 weeks, 4 days)

Facebook and The OTHER Head

I recently asked for input from my nearest and dearest on the subject of circumcision um.. I posted the question on my facebook status... because I'm THAT smart.  I was immediately made aware of the passion behind this issue.  Understandably so; it has been of great concern to me with the impending arrival of my Biscuit and his perfectly intact penis.  


One of my favorite responses came to me in a private message from my very special friend, Pam... seen below with her precious Zion.

Kinda forgot to ask if I could use this photo...

After reading her message on this subject, I had NO choice but to share it with the world.  I did get her permission to quote her.  So please, enjoy Pam's thoughts on Circumcision.  

"Our final decision came after much research and finally on the basis of the fact That the APA (American Pediatric Assoc) said there's no SOLID reason to do it.  Once can come up with reasons that might make circumcision a favorable decision - like 1. Their parts should look like their dad's (where is this rule written I wonder?)  2. It's cleaner...(perhaps, if one isn't taught how to take care of it) or 3. STD's/AIDS (again, if you don't intend to teach him about such things anyway.)

I think a lot of it just comes down to the fact that most men at least used to do it. I don't know that that's true now.  Tradition, basically.

But one good reason for NOT doing it, according to our pediatrician, is that there are, let's just say, more pleasurable sensations for those who DON'T have it done (which may or may not explain my boy's frequent need to gyrate on the floor, regardless of the setting).

That just leaves one with the question of, do I really want to do anything to increase the capacity for my man-child to think with his other head than he might already be prone to?

We decided in his favor.  :)"