Moment of sappiness - attempts at poetry

All right, I have moments where not everything is a barrel of monkeys. Not everything in life can be hilarious...sigh. (although after watching Ellen today I wonder if maybe all things in life CAN be laughed at - like blindfolded musical chairs - 'youtube' it, funny funny stuff)

I digress. Last year in Education we had an assignment to write a poem of sorts, based on an a previously written poem, titled 'I am From...' Then we had to do the unthinkable and stand in front of our new classmates and bare our souls with said poems. Mortifying stuff.

Now I'm going to do it again. Slightly easier this time, what with not having to actually look at whoever reads this. At least not WHILE they read it. Try not to tease me tooooo much when you see me again.

So first, please read the 'I am from' poem that I wrote last year for my class, before I had my darling little monkey. Then, read the second version, all about my little babykins. Enjoy. (hopefully, and lie to me if you don't!)

I am from....

I am from powdered milk and pancakes, which arrived in a cardboard box on our door-step once a year at Christmas time.
(the taste ever-lasting,
never quite fading,
always making me gag)

I am from apartment after apartment, basement level to ninth story with a balcony, where I rode my first bike.
(trains passing, apartment swaying, dishing rattling)
I am from being seen and not heard, escaping into a British closest where magic prevailed and lions roared.
(squeezing my eyes shut and praying for reality to trade places with fantasy)

I am from the 70’s where the Dancing Queen reigned, and Knowing Me and Knowing You was easy.
(not quite understanding but singing with my Mom anyway)

I am from cousins instead of siblings, numbering over thirty by the time I drew my first breath.
I am from Truth or Dare, always being a daredevil though cowering inside.
(pretending that, yes, mud did taste like chocolate, and, yes, I would like to be paddy-whacked again…)

I am from the Romper Room, but not really because my name was never found in the mirror.
(always waiting to hear my name after the “Jennifers,” “Amandas,” and “Christines”)

I am from ice-cream with the coloured gumball at the bottom of the plastic cone, eaten with a clumsy wooden spoon.
(sticky hands smeared on my red cords, which Mom said didn’t match my pink t-shirt. Why not?)

I am from a place where I am still trying to understand where it is that I really came from.




I am from…

I am from a stick that I oh so gracefully peed on, which lit up ‘positive’ly blue – a baby due in May
(I said ‘Oh my,’ my husband said ‘oh no’)

I am from months of waiting, appointment after appointment, where I first heard your heart beating out a steady rapturous rhythm
(anticipation mounting, are you healthy?)
I am from seeing your little body for the ‘first time’, all bones, lit up on the ultrasound screen
(you had my heart in your tiny hands from this moment on)

I am from little feet kicking me in the ribs and the bladder, letting me know you are there and are getting bigger everyday
(as was I, waddling everywhere I went, running out of breath at every set of stairs I had the misfortune of coming across)

I am from sharp pains that began, intensely, at 4:06 in the morning and ended exactly fourteen-and-a-half hours later
(birthing class lied, I could not make the pain go away by ‘seeing, hearing, feeling, breathing’; nor did I find the ‘pain-fairy’ very charming – damn witch blocked the epidural…)

I am from feeling you come into this world and being stunned into silence by your presence, your beauty, everything YOU.
(I thought I would cry, but was too overwhelmed and relieved that you were alive and kicking)

I am from holding you and nursing you before you were even thirty minutes old and feeling like life would never be more complete than right at that moment
(who knew that this feeling would continue on a daily basis)

I am from a place where I have finally understood why I am here.
(I am your mother, and always will be)

Time warps, confessions, and prerogatives

Okay, who is the joker that hit the fast-forward button? Seriously, someone must have hit that button because I can't figure out where the the time has gone! However, I wouldn't trade the last seven months for anything in the world. Except maybe six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Kidding! Even five would be good....No? Four? (I get three hours in a row on a GOOD night.)

When I started writing this blog I was sooooo determined that I would write every week without fail. I had visions of blogging while my daughter slept peacefully in her crib as I slowly drank a cup of yummy coffee. Wholly crap was I ever deluded and naive. Sigh. The things you think you know before you become a parent! I had also read another 'mommy blog,' in which the mom wrote every week for the first year of her second child's life. So I figured if THAT mom could write once a week with two kids in tow, how hard could it be for me? Hahahahaha (hysterical laughter ensues). I realized later (upon feeling very guilty for not being able to write about EVERYTHING that was happening in my amazing daughter's life), that the other blogger PAID someone to come and watch her children while she blogged, because she was also being PAID to write a book! (Any takers out there? Come on, I could use the extra cash!)

My little one is now eight months old and it has gone by in the blink of an eye. What have we been doing that whole time? Well, I've been....very....sleepy. And confused, amazed, bewildered, excited, enthralled, euphoric, frantic....sometimes all in one breath. How has my little one been? She is a little ball of energy. In the last eight months she has learned so much that I am in awe. This past week she pulled herself up to standing in her crib, and by the end of the week she was walking around the house holding on to my fingers (a whole new experience in the back-pain department). All this without yet figuring out how to crawl, or push herself up to sit. How do babies learn so fast and why do they skip some stages? I'm mystified. She is also experimenting with language. Lot's of ba, ga, da, ma, (I'm convinced she is calling me mama, but of course dada says she's not), ya, na...It's very entertaining. Ah, the things that count as entertainment these days...sleeping baby - entertaining. Giggling - entertaining. Farting - even more entertaining....

I also have a very guilty confession to make. My daughter does not sleep in her crib. EVER. Not only does she sleep with me at night, but I have not been able to force myself to make her sleep in her crib during the day. That's because....I, um, hold her while she naps. There, I said it. Am I a terrible mom for doing this? (Any other moms want to fess up to this? Please do, it will make me feel MUCH better.) Why do I do this? It's not because I think a 20 lb baby feels like feathers in my arms. I do it because I think that time is precious and before long she won't let me hold her like that anymore. It's only another three months before I return to work (an entirely separate post will need to be written about that), and will have to let someone else hold her. Okay, I know before that point I'm going to have to 'train' her to sleep in her crib because I can't realistically expect someone else to hold her while she naps. Now I feel just a wee bit selfish...and...horrified at how painful it is going to be to get her to sleep in her crib (she screams so hard she gags every time I try to lay her down in it). Ugh. The next three months are going to be hell...that I brought on myself....

Selfish indulgences aside, I have become an expert at a few things that I never thought I would ever be proud of:

1. I can drive and reach back into my daughter's car-seat and replace her 'sucky' without ever taking my eyes off of the road.
2. I can change a diaper faster than you can say 'quick, she peed on the wall!' (what can I say, she's talented)
   
3. I can sing numerous kids songs, without forgetting a single word. (and for those rare times when I actually do forget, then I just change the song - they all sound like 'Twinkle twinkle little star' anyway.)
4. I can whip out a boob and feed her quicker than Barney can sing 'I love you, you love me...'
5. I can type an entire blog with one hand, because I'm holding my sleeping daughter with the other hand.

Okay, so I'm a bit of a hypocrite on that last point. I'm supposed to be holding my daughter while she sleeps so that I can lovingly gaze at her and not miss a single sleepy twitch. Buuuuuut, I was going through a bit of writing withdrawal, and thought that I would seize the moment. Actually, I've been trying to seize the moment for a few days worth of naps. Hey, I didn't say I typed fast with one hand. Besides, I'm the mom now. I can be as contrary as I like! It's a mom's prerogative.