Wednesday, January 23, 2013

One Step Forward.

Our humble home continues to evolve and the past few weekends and was certainly no exception. Windows were retro-fitted (and what a difference double pane makes!), shelves put together and installed and has now since become home to some books of poetry and a pair of milk glass vases. New house plants bought and settled into a vacant corner by the window, curtains trimmed and hung for what will be Mandarin's bedroom and bags of old pillows, washed out coats, and broken plates and kitchen miscellany donated to Goodwill. Which is, incidentally, where I found this new loft for our friendly succulents. Now all it needs to do is survive. 



The house has never seen this much action. It's a child in gestation and is on it's way into evolving into something that resembles us. No longer the stagnant vacation home of yesteryear, we want it to be a reflection of who we are as a family (which is subtle speak for saying that the old square coffee table will not be making its way back into the living room).  So, we are taking it one corner at a time. 

Speaking of corners, a designated time out corner has been inaugurated in the living room as some form of viral moodiness has been circulating as of late. A number of disciplinary actions taken (time out) with Mandarin as she continues to discover a whole range of unpleasant, albeit necessary emotions. Also learned today: dancing on a dining chair will land you some unintended floor time with a bloody lip.  Toddler time is counted in seconds. Turn your head once and in a heartbeat your toddler has swallowed that petrified cheerio, colored the wall, bruised her shin, fallen off the chair.  



Now if only I could re-locate emotion as I would these milk glass vases or my mother's thrifted chartreuse candy bowl. Today, watching the rain set me up for a mood that cleared some things up that's been stirring in me.  Years ago, when I used to work for a corporate office, I'd watch the monsoon rain sweep through the city and my thoughts would run along with it. I would feel melancholic then, thinking that if I were some place else I wouldn't feel as tormented with being lost as I was. Now, nearly six years later, I'm just looking out a different window. There are just these kind of days when you feel unhinged, like you're walking around like Mel Gibson with a dislocated shoulder, hoping to run into a wall (see: Lethal Weapon).  I seriously thought I would have it all figured out by now.  But as life would have it, figuring it out has no timeline. So as a grand gesture to the universe I wear a tiny silver key around my neck as a constant reminder that I can figuratively walk into any locked door if I choose to, but now I realize that I've was just walking back and forth a long hallway of closed doors. Maybe it's time to see what doors can be opened. 


Friday, January 4, 2013

Meaningful.

So that's what a half digested peanut butter sandwich looks like on the floor. I will save you the photo opportunity right there. Here's a good way to start the year right, a clear reminder that children are vessels of surprise and delight, where just moments ago we were happily eating breakfast and doing Eskimo kisses and all that jazz, when out of nowhere, a gag and that was that. 

This is nothing new,  really. It's happened more times than I can easily remember and I only have a two year old. My reaction though, now that's one thing that never changes. I caught myself, deer-in-the-headlights witnessing this purge in slow motion HD. So real it hit my shoe, jammies and left an offensive sensory mess on the floor. I think we both had a slight out of body experience. Poor Mandarin was just as shocked as I was, not expecting breakfast to take flight from her so soon. 

I finally snapped out of it, asked her not to move while I cleaned up a bit, and did what any mother and child would do in this scenario. Get naked in Tahiti. Contain the outbreak. Minimize contamination. Leave clothes behind; head straight for the shower. Load the washer. 

She then asked me, "Mama, are you mad?"
"Of course not" I said.
"Aww...I'm soweee..."
"It's not your fault, love" I uttered. 
"We're just cleaning you up"
She then smiled and unexpectedly said, "I'm so proud of you, Mama"

She was obviously sounding off something she heard from both myself and her Dad, but to hear this kind of validation from your two year old, regardless of whether she knows what she's talking about or not, feels good. To hear your own child say that, pulls you right back into the moment, no matter where you are. No matter how far your mind has wandered off. 

I had an entire post written up and saved in my draft section not knowing how to end it or if I even wanted to post it. I knew it was clearly unfinished so I just left it there. I really didn't want to simply recount Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with a laundry list of what transpired. I'm trying to find meaning; I am going to share it, it might as well be meaningful. 

Oddly enough, I found it yesterday when Mandarin and I were taking down the tree and packing up Christmas ornaments. This entire season embraced Mandarin with so much warmth that every time she sees anything remotely associated to Christmas she'd say, "Christmas everydaaay!" and packing up "Christmas" seemed to profoundly confused her. 

And there it was.

I realized that I must have clocked out during the holidays because with the exception of Christmas day and Mandarin's pure excitement and joy (definitely one of the true highlights of my the year) it dawned on me that I  wasn't emotionally centered. I couldn't write about it without making it sound like Wall-E's daily log. Dressed in Pajamas....playing cards...Gin tonic was excellent...dinner...dessert...midnight. I somehow lost my center, dislodged by some probable event (still) unknown to me but nonetheless affected my general outlook in life. I'm definitely not unhappy. I just haven't lived in the moment. I haven't paid attention to the details.   

As the week progressed, I went through the motions of the household while sneaking in a trip or two to pick up a new Christmas tree (for next Christmas) and to hoard buy every ornament I came across with. Shopping for the last faux tree standing in a department store is like being faced with wolves in the woods. Alas, in the end, we got to checkout first and the lady was too slow for our Ninja (credit) slice as we took home one of two trees she needed.


Hello, 2013!

We spent New Year's Day at the Beach. It was freezing and windy, but the sun was high and it was a clear day, free of fog and drizzles, that being out was the best thing we did for ourselves. I constantly  need to remind myself that we are fortunate enough to live within a few miles from the beach. 

It was a good place to start the year, humbled by the great expanse that swelled and shifted waves, crashed into rocks and chased us back into the shoreline  We picked out smooth and well rounded stones and hurled it back into the water, the way I would rid myself of empty resolutions that never find certitude. 

Well, it is the new year, a good time to purge and start anew. Exorcise ourselves of hesitation, insecurities, or whatever demons we shared a drink with and once again be reminded that however broken we are in the past year, we can always start free and clear when we want to. Because we can.


So without making resolutions, I start the New Year with a reminder.  I must be present in all things. Pay attention. Find my center and move forward from there. That day at the beach, Mandarin drew rainbows on the sand like she already knew that this new year brings with it the promise of good, happy and hopeful.

Pick a spot. Plant a seed. Watch it grow. (A revelation from a hilariously witty TV Show I've been watching). This is how 2013 ought to be.  



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