This marriage gig. It's hard. Hard like nothing else. Sure I have "I-don't-wanna-be-a-parent" moments, but I have "I-don't-wanna-be-a-wife" DAYS. Weeks.
And each one feels like forever.
Fuckity-fuck.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Coast without communicating. Up. Down. Down.
D
o
w
n
.
.
.
How am I supposed to help, love, honour, live with a man who calls me a c-word?
Seriously.
Wish he'd get his ass up off the effin' floor. I want a partner, a friend, a lover, a co-conspirator, a post for leaning, a hand for holding.
Not this.
Not this.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Happy Mother's Day!
Darling Mum,
If ever two women were destined to be mother and daughter, it's you and me. You are the mother of my heart and my first and best kindred spirit. God certainly knew what he was doing when he picked me for you, and you for me.
I love you, Mum. Your wisdom and compassion are only part of what make you great. Without your support and encouragement and willingness to listen to me, ad nauseum, I'm not sure my marriage would still be intact. Thank you for that.
You inspire me - I want to be and do more than I am, because you've paved the way, and shown that anything is possible. That you're still discovering innate talent, long after most people have settled into golf and bridge, is typical - you are FULL of surprises and it's a delight to watch you come into yourself, again and again.
I hope that I can raise my own children with as much grace and kindness. I hope that I will find the perfect words, like you always seem to, and that I will be the place of solace that you've always been for me. I want my children to think of me and smile fondly, the way I do when I think of you.
I wish I'd told you more often how proud I am to be your daughter. Wish I'd hugged you more, hung on longer when I did. Now, as I watch you snuggle and kiss my boys, my heart is full. They are so, so lucky to have such an awesome Nanny. Their tiny faces light up at the sight of you - no wonder, since you make such an enthusiastic playmate and always have time for "one more" story.
Thank you for all of it, Mum. I am blessed to call you mine and feel utterly privileged to be your best friend. Because you are certainly mine and I love you completely. With all that I am - your daughter and the one who loves you most.
If ever two women were destined to be mother and daughter, it's you and me. You are the mother of my heart and my first and best kindred spirit. God certainly knew what he was doing when he picked me for you, and you for me.
I love you, Mum. Your wisdom and compassion are only part of what make you great. Without your support and encouragement and willingness to listen to me, ad nauseum, I'm not sure my marriage would still be intact. Thank you for that.
You inspire me - I want to be and do more than I am, because you've paved the way, and shown that anything is possible. That you're still discovering innate talent, long after most people have settled into golf and bridge, is typical - you are FULL of surprises and it's a delight to watch you come into yourself, again and again.
I hope that I can raise my own children with as much grace and kindness. I hope that I will find the perfect words, like you always seem to, and that I will be the place of solace that you've always been for me. I want my children to think of me and smile fondly, the way I do when I think of you.
I wish I'd told you more often how proud I am to be your daughter. Wish I'd hugged you more, hung on longer when I did. Now, as I watch you snuggle and kiss my boys, my heart is full. They are so, so lucky to have such an awesome Nanny. Their tiny faces light up at the sight of you - no wonder, since you make such an enthusiastic playmate and always have time for "one more" story.
Thank you for all of it, Mum. I am blessed to call you mine and feel utterly privileged to be your best friend. Because you are certainly mine and I love you completely. With all that I am - your daughter and the one who loves you most.
Monday, May 5, 2008
I Love You, Goodnight!
Like many toddlers, Matthew insists on the same stories at bedtime. They must be read in the same order, every night, no skipping, ever.
The very last is "I Love You, Goodnight" and is a simple litany of things that a certain Mama mouse loves, the way she loves her child: "I love you, like I love blueberry pancakes. I love you like the moon at night.." etc.
Well, tonight, Mr. Matthew switched it up, much to my surprise and delight. Instead of tucking in and getting comfy so that I could read to him, he read to me. Every. Last. Word.
So far, it pretty much rates up there in the Top Ten Favourite Matthew Moments. I know that he wasn't really reading so much as repeating the stories he's memorized, but oh, who cares.
My son, beloved heart, read me a goodnight story.
Sweet dreams, indeed!
The very last is "I Love You, Goodnight" and is a simple litany of things that a certain Mama mouse loves, the way she loves her child: "I love you, like I love blueberry pancakes. I love you like the moon at night.." etc.
Well, tonight, Mr. Matthew switched it up, much to my surprise and delight. Instead of tucking in and getting comfy so that I could read to him, he read to me. Every. Last. Word.
So far, it pretty much rates up there in the Top Ten Favourite Matthew Moments. I know that he wasn't really reading so much as repeating the stories he's memorized, but oh, who cares.
My son, beloved heart, read me a goodnight story.
Sweet dreams, indeed!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Little Leprechaun Moments
I'm afraid that I'll forget the little moments. The ones that make up the days, weeks, months that seem to have simply, WHOOSH, flown right on by. How is it that Matthew is closer to three, than two? Beloved Luke was just born, wasn't he? How'd he get to be 7 months old?
Seems that I spend so much energy just getting through, that I've forgotten to savour the sweet spots - the way Luke's whole face lights up when I tiptoe in to see if he's awake yet. The way his whole body wriggles with delight the second he sees his big brother. I can't even begin to describe what it does to my heart, watching Luke, watch Matthew. I swear there are days when I can hear the crack.
Matthew's newest phrase: "Mummy! I love you soooooooooooo much! I go to work now!" as he hops into his little plastic car and trundles all the way to the bathroom. "Mummy, I hooommmee!"
They are so happy, these leprechauns. Despite a bad case of the naughties this week, Matthew is so good-natured and eager - to please, to love, to laugh. He sings a dozen songs, including a Dutch ditty my Dad's been teaching him since birth, practically. I caught him showing Luke the hand motions that go with, and felt my heart grow three sizes. He knows that "Godspeed" by the Dixie Chicks is our "Mummy/Matthew" song, and that "Send Me on My Way" by Rusted Root is Lukey's.
He calls Luke, "Lukey Pookers," like I do and cups his face to bestow kisses. Just like me. Sigh.
Luke. Sweet Luke. SO happy. So content. He's hysterically fat, and I could eat every inch of him. Yesterday I snagged a quick video of him "conducting" Beethoven's Sonata - it's mostly clapping and yummy naked baby-ness, but it's typical of his temperament and one of the reasons I fall in love with him a little bit more every day. I want to nurse him forever, just to keep him close.
I know there are more. More songs, more kisses, more toothy grins. Little touches of magic. More moments that give me pause and make me so grateful to these miracles that I call mine. I know that I need to write them down sooner, and not wait until "later."
Because "later" it seems, turns into 7 months. And pretty soon, "later" will be traipsing off to kindergarten, leaving his proud and blessed Mama to sit quietly, missing it all.
Seems that I spend so much energy just getting through, that I've forgotten to savour the sweet spots - the way Luke's whole face lights up when I tiptoe in to see if he's awake yet. The way his whole body wriggles with delight the second he sees his big brother. I can't even begin to describe what it does to my heart, watching Luke, watch Matthew. I swear there are days when I can hear the crack.
Matthew's newest phrase: "Mummy! I love you soooooooooooo much! I go to work now!" as he hops into his little plastic car and trundles all the way to the bathroom. "Mummy, I hooommmee!"
They are so happy, these leprechauns. Despite a bad case of the naughties this week, Matthew is so good-natured and eager - to please, to love, to laugh. He sings a dozen songs, including a Dutch ditty my Dad's been teaching him since birth, practically. I caught him showing Luke the hand motions that go with, and felt my heart grow three sizes. He knows that "Godspeed" by the Dixie Chicks is our "Mummy/Matthew" song, and that "Send Me on My Way" by Rusted Root is Lukey's.
He calls Luke, "Lukey Pookers," like I do and cups his face to bestow kisses. Just like me. Sigh.
Luke. Sweet Luke. SO happy. So content. He's hysterically fat, and I could eat every inch of him. Yesterday I snagged a quick video of him "conducting" Beethoven's Sonata - it's mostly clapping and yummy naked baby-ness, but it's typical of his temperament and one of the reasons I fall in love with him a little bit more every day. I want to nurse him forever, just to keep him close.
I know there are more. More songs, more kisses, more toothy grins. Little touches of magic. More moments that give me pause and make me so grateful to these miracles that I call mine. I know that I need to write them down sooner, and not wait until "later."
Because "later" it seems, turns into 7 months. And pretty soon, "later" will be traipsing off to kindergarten, leaving his proud and blessed Mama to sit quietly, missing it all.
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