Sunday, September 25, 2011

sugar high

and like that, we're in. new space, new neighborhood. they gypsy blood in me is so happy to change environments. but let's be honest. gypsy blood only runs in one vein in my body. the one they can never find when they do blood tests. bruised from the searching, poking, cutting off circulation. the rest of me craves familiarity and i am humbled at the plight of a refugee. i know that i can never understand that type of displacement and i berate myself for crying through my anxiety when there is so much more i could be crying about. like this, for example.

i watch my daughter deal with new situations and i marvel at the ways in which we adapt. as humans. as a child. versus as an adult. it takes a clear and concerted effort on my part to not wallow in the negative space between everything i want for us and everything we have and yet she just deals with it and really only throws fits over food. she's not a great eater.
but the rest of life seems to swim by her and she watches it and floats along and sometimes tries to swim the other way but mostly kicks her legs in order to move faster. children amaze me. simultaneously uninhibited and utterly themselves and yet completely able to conform at a moment's notice. it's liberating and terrifying to think that i have so much influence. because i think about things like death and taxes and if i'm not careful i find myself spiraling down and losing my grip and i start to focus on the dirt and the trash and i forget that sometimes all she really needs is to get the hell out of the house and spend some time on the sidewalk with chalk. that sometimes all i need is to sit on a blanket in the grass and drink my coffee outdoors.

this always happens when i move. i am unable to relax and enjoy myself until the boxes are unpacked. the stuff is put away. our new life is organized. because otherwise, i'm cursing at myself in the garage searching for the nursing pads and a pair of pants that will fit because we still haven't been able to fix what needs to be fixed and unpack everything. i rest on the couch much of the day, nursing and recovering and lamenting all that i'm not getting done. instead i delve into pinterest to give myself something to do while dash eats.
and i eat ice cream like it is my motherfucking job.


  1. Oh my gosh the vein. You unearthed that so well. Wishing you a peaceful transition...


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  3. not that my head is screwed on exactly right, but you know i always tell you how familiar you are to me, these anxieties. i had then when i was a younger mother. i am retreating from them, or they, from me, and all it took was one stupid book, one stupid page, one stupid stupid example at exactly the right time in my life.

    my mother picked up one of those stupid (sorry) chicken soup for the soul books and as i spent some time in the bathroom that day, i picked it up. one stupid example like a tiny pebble into the fabric of my being. if something breaks, like your car, rather than lamenting the loss of your car, celebrate all the times your car helped you to get places. instead of lamenting the loss of your favorite pair of jeans, celebrate how awesome your ass was for so long, how comfortable, how familiar those jeans were. i swear to god, i know it was stupid, but it changed me. it changed how i thought and felt. that very night my then-husband came home with panic in his eyes, spittle frothing from his jerking mouth and said his car was dying. Oh, the grief it would have been, the worry, the numbers. but i said, well, ok. and i felt it, well, ok. thanks car for all of the years. and now, let's get on with this.

    stupid. i know. but so easy once the crack is in us wanting the new plant to grow. it is all centered around acceptance. it isn't stupid after all. it is, i think, the new and better way to live. but it is a practice. it is work.


  4. Sheesh just had a BABY...and then moved your life from here to there! I think you deserve your new position as Head Ice Cream Eater. Eventually everything gets unpacked. Ha! Listen to me, talking like I don't fret :)

  5. Understand the "need" to get it all put away, to establish a routine, to be "home" - done it so many times it doesn't matter as much - if I have a roof over my head and my health, I'm good - and so are you. It will all come together - in it's own time no matter how hard you push. And you know it will because it always does - the "bad karma" has been left behind, maybe replace with another type, but this too shall pass - this is fixable. You are stronger than you remember - this post partum stuff is hard to deal with in the best of circumstances - so throwing in c-section recovery, new baby, moving, stinky stuff to deal with, etc. makes this quite a stew. Bottom line, Dash is healthy, Finn is healthy and smart, you and Bryan are healthy (or getting there) and will survive in order to make this another pattern on your memory wall. We, your family, are here to help too, but you already new that.
    As for death and taxes, they will come in their own time and place - so look the other way and take a deep breath, a sip of coffee and realize that the boxes will get unpacked eventually, everything will find its home, and life will go on, nursing pads or makeshift paper towel pads. Guess part of the reason for looking at our children is to realize what's really urgently important and what can wait. I vote for the blanket on the grass with the coffee and the kids. I love you Kritter. Mom

  6. i really like you, even though we've never met in person, because you say it like it is and you make all of the 'in my head' thoughts tangible and less lonely.

    hang in there sister, and when you're ready, i'd love to buy you a cup of coffee that we can drink outdoors. xo

  7. I often need to remind myself of the only need being the coffee in the grass. I'm always so glad when I do.

    Glad you're trying to rest and recover and eat lots of icecream. I wish I could bring you a casserole.

  8. not a bad job, if you can get it.

    and if you're anywhere near a can get it.

    baby steps, kid. you're doing awesome. xoox

  9. Pinterest, ah Pinterest. Oh, it cures most of what ails me.

  10. Of all the bloggers I read you are the one I wish I could write like.
    Writing like this should be your motherfucking job girl.
    But keep eating that ice-cream and pinning those awesome nails!


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