Thursday, October 30, 2014

The Crush


From the moment I cracked open and devoured Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone I could not wait for the day I would have a kid with whom to read it. I imagined us snuggled together in bed, my little one rapt with attention as we flipped page after page, neither one of us wanting to stop. I could not wait for the anticipation for the next book (I even considered making my child wait a year between each read, because, after all, I did, sometimes even longer!).

This summer we attempted the first book because E. had expressed some interest when she saw me rereading The Order of the Pheonix over the summer (she also wanted to read Outlander by Diana Gabaldon because my mom was reading it, but we decided we'd better save the sexy Scottish warriors for another time). After learning within the first chapter that the heroic boy wizard had been orphaned as a baby (not much younger than her own little brother) she needed to stop. It just wasn't fair! She had said. How could that happen? So, we stopped, and I wondered if this initial read was just too soon and feared that it would prevent her from ever wanting to try to read the series again.

But then, something wonderful happened. E. made a friend at school and that friend loved Harry Potter (so much so, I heard, that she is going to be Harry for Halloween this year). This, and the fact that there is a movie I will not let her see until she has read the book with me, prompted E. to beg me to start reading The Sorcerer's Stone once again. With a little reluctance, afraid I would really ruin it this time, I started the book again.

And she's loving it.

We're on our way to Hogwarts as we speak and she is thrilled or chilled by each character she meets. She thinks Hagrid is sweet, the Dursley's are vile, and she's already picked up on Draco Malfoy's general awfulness. But most of all, she is absolutely enamored with Harry. And who wouldn't be - he's a kind, humble boy who has a sense of justice. Who wouldn't admire a person like that?

Today, at the doctor's office, she got to pick a sticker, per usual. I spotted a sticker with Harry and Hermoine on it and pointed it out. Immediately, E. snatched up and told the nurse who had been offering the stickers that she was reading Harry Potter and loved Harry (the book, she meant, of course). Later that day, she came downstairs, a bashful grin on her face.
"Mama," she said. "I kissed Harry Potter on my sticker."
My, oh my, what have I done?

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

It's That Time of Year

A lot of people (including myself, sometimes), lament the seasonal rushing that comes this time of year. Early in the fall, or even late summer, just as we're trying to drag on those last days of languorous sunlight, jack o' lanterns and witches and ghosts begin to appear on store shelves along with massive backs of orange and black candies. It's hard to believe there will be a time for such things when it's still warm enough to swim and you can't quite tell when to bring the cooler weather clothes down from the attic. But just as soon, just as mysteriously, those witches and ghosts disappear from the shelves (even before their counterparts have had a chance to walk the streets with ghoulish delight) and are replaced with shiny gold and red baubles, green tinsel, and images of the jolliest of men. The leaves are still falling from the trees, pumpkins still line steps, and nary a turkey has graced the table, but be damned if you do not immediately start thinking of snow and humming "Jingle Bells."



I am of two minds this time of year. First there is the thought, What on earth is the rush? If we spend two months celebrating the coming of Jesus, Santa and his elves, peace on earth and goodwill toward men, and the Elf on the Shelf, then by December 25th, aren't we going to be thoroughly sick of it all? I do believe there is an Elmo Christmas special from way back that makes this almost exact point: Elmo wishes it could be Christmas every day and, through the magic of a Muppet reindeer, is able to make that wish come true. As it turns out, spending an extended amount of time celebrating Christmas drains everyone of the excitement of the season, making it as thoroughly unspecial as a Tuesday in March. 

I say all this, and I am sure many who read this will agree with my sentiments, but as I type I can just see the cover of Truth in the Tinsel PDF hiding behind this open window on my computer screen. I have already checked Amazon and Etsy to track my orders of Christmas gifts twice this morning. And I have (I say this with a hung head) already played Christmas music (Granted! My mom and I are currently writing a children's Christmas story - more on that another time - and playing a little bit of Bing Crosby gets the creative juices flowing). As much as I want to put the breaks on all things Christmas, I can't help but feel a tiny bit of glee in the bottom of my stomach as I spot Christmas stockings for sale in local stores.

With Halloween coming at the end of this week, I'm finding myself feeling slightly bereft of sprightly Halloweeny spirit. I'm afraid my hankering for red and green lights and Christmas tunes has gotten in the way of enjoying the other two holidays that come before that most wonderful time of the year. I don't want it to be like that! I want to be excited to don my spider web earring and take E. and M. trick or treating. I want to sit down and feel thoroughly enchanted by Sparkle Stories sweet and only slightly spooky stories (we just listened to the Switch Witch this weekend and loved it). I want to think beyond all the wonderful handfuls of candy I know I'm going to eat Friday night (especially if the Switch Witch does make an appearance at our house...she may have to, depending on how much my husband and I eat).

The question I end up asking myself is how in sync do I want to be with the rhythm of the seasons and with my family? Thankfully, my littles are still thoroughly engrossed with what's just ahead of them that real thoughts about Christmas haven't entered their heads. I want to be where they are, excited about what's just ahead and instead of spending all my time looking just down the road. I do that naturally, it's in my temperament (and makes me completely Pisces), but with small children, when everything moves so damn fast to begin with, it does me little good to stretch my neck out and stare down the road ahead of me in this part of my life. So, I'm taking a step back from Christmas and asking myself the same question I have silently asked others - What *is* the rush?

Monday, October 27, 2014

Cooking Lessons

Over the summer, during a brief appearance back here on the blog, I mentioned that I had spoken with my dietician about binge eating disorder (BED), something that she and I both felt I was dealing with, though, thankfully, not to an extreme degree. Since then I've done some reading, some pinning, and started (and then stopped) a blog about dealing with my food issues. All have been helpful, but not terribly proactive. I'm super awesome at figuring out what's wrong, but I'm terrible at fixing it, even when I'm presented with a slew of great solutions.

I'm trying to move away from passivity in my actions towards activity. Number one on my list, because it's the most exciting to me, is to start trying to cook well. I will be the first to admit that I am a sub par cook at best. In theory, like a lot of things with me, I love the idea of cooking, to create something with love and is also delicious. But the temperament required for cooking well, I think, is not well suited to mine - patient, detail-oriented (good cooks) vs. impatient, day-dreamy and scattered (me). Throw two young children into the mix and my fall back meals of pizza (granted, it's homemade) and spaghetti start to make a bit more sense.

I think that if I am able to cook quality food for myself and my family a few other things will fall into place to help me discover more appropriate eating habits. Of course, I'm also reading the BED version of Love What You Eat, Eat What You Love by Dr. Michelle May and should probably start implementing the suggestions she makes in there, but thinking about food is way easier.

My goal here isn't necessarily to make healthier foods (though, I want to and really need to back off the breads and pastas), but to put effort and care into what I make so I can enjoy the whole food experience, allowing the emotions that go with the experience replace some of the emotion behind over eating/binge eating. One of the major issues a person who deals with BED has is eating mindlessly and too quickly. The food isn't really the centerpiece, but the relief of whatever negative feeling you have. By giving myself the gift of time and effort to create a meal that needs to really be enjoyed, I start to shift how I look at the food and how the food is used.

From hapless cook to master chef! (And yes, I do own two ice cream scoops, and I had planned to do this picture with our ice cream...but I ate it.)


So, this is my seven step plan of execution, because we always need a plan, right?
  1. Pick a day or night when I know my husband will be home and not exhausted from work. 
  2. Pick a recipe that is challenging, but won't overwhelm me. Read the whole thing through to make sure I have everything I need.
  3. Make sure the kitchen is clean so I don't get distracted by cleaning and can focus on the food and relax. 
  4. Have the hubs take the kids out or down to the den for some daddy time so I can focus.
  5. Drink some wine. 
  6. Eat the delicious meal I will cook with my family, consciously and slowly. 
  7. Repeat once a week.
My hope is that as I get more experience under my belt (or my kids get a little bit older), I will be able to do this more than once a week. Regardless of when I do this "special" cooking, my hope is that the lessons I learn from cooking and eating mindfully will come to mind every time I sit down to eat, not just during those weekly meals. 

P.S. Here's a link to my "Cooking Lessons" pinterest board. It has the start of some basic, multi-purpose recipes and different techniques and free, online cooking lessons.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Evolution

I've been thinking today, thinking about what I'm going to write.

I read an article about the brain development of 20 somethings.

I thought about the origins of my motherhood.

I considered my love/hate relationship with labels when applied to people. (I did realize I'm okay when labels are applied to things. I would prefer to not, you know, drink poison or something.)

I have grappled with self-identity.

And what have I come away with? Motherhood, like life itself, is a beautiful evolution.

A long time ago, but really not that long ago at all, when E. was a baby, I did something kind of foolish. I honestly don't remember what it was, but my husband called me out on it. My response: "My brain is still developing - you can't expect me to always make good decisions!" My brain, like my motherhood, has been evolving. And it's that biological evolution that has fueled, in part, the changes in how I mother my children.

I've always been upfront with the many disadvantages of having kids young. There is just so much risk to everything in your life - your finances, your relationships, your sanity (though, I suppose that's up for grabs no matter when you have kids), but there are advantages, too. One of the absolute coolest things about spending your early twenties amongst the wee ones is seeing how much you change, how quickly and how drastically. I am not the person I was seven years ago, when I was pregnant with E. And, of course, most people change a lot in seven years, especially moving from 19 to twenty-six, but that change only grows exponentially when you throw children into the mix.


I moved from a neanderthal living in a cave, in terms of self-awareness and understanding, to something resembling an evolved human being. I might still be living in the Dark Ages, fighting to reach my Renaissance, but I'm moving forward and I'm starting to like what I see in myself.

I thought this was interesting (it's from that article I mentioned above) -
[Geid] and his colleagues plan to compare the brain development of girls who become pregnant in their teens to girls who do not. “Teen pregnancy changes all your priorities and what you do with your time—how do those experiences change the brain?” Arnett agrees that such neuroimaging studies would be useful. “Even in industrialized countries, a lot of people still get married pretty early. You could do brain studies comparing people who experience their twenties differently and contrast how their brains develop.”
To give some context, right before the quote above, the article's author poses this question: "Should parents encourage their 20-year-olds to shirk adult responsibilities lest they hamper an advantageous period of self-discovery and wild experimentation?"

I bring up these quotes because while they don't directly contrast my feelings that having children compounds the evolution a person takes on between the beginning of young adulthood and the end, it seems to challenge it. Basically, the article implies that because a person who chooses to take on "adult responsibilities" (i.e. family of her own, real job, etc.) they are unable to participate in a period of "self-discovery" and "wild experimentation."

You find out what you're made of when you are confronted with a challenge, particularly one that involves taking another person's life into your hands. While maybe it doesn't feel that way all the time, because, in the 21st century world, the stakes can be much lower, becoming a parent means you make sure your little person doesn't accidentally off themselves or get eaten by a wild animal in your backyard (genuine concern here in Maine). With that and any myriad of potential cultural issues to concern yourself with, parenting is precisely what the article suggests twenty-somethings need to help their brains expand! (You tell me spending five nights in a row trying to both calm a colicky baby and then figure out whenever you're going to have sex with your husband again isn't wild experimentation!)

Having my kids, being married to my husband, going to my awesome job - those have forced me to change, molded my brain and my body in ways that nothing else could have. And the more I interact with these forces of will and love the more I love the person I am becoming. Yes, sometimes I sit back and I wonder about what my life would look like if I had made different choices, and I still see a good life, a happy life, but it's not this life. I can also see humans evolving to the point where they have mutant powers and can bend time with their psychic powers (#nerd), but I'm not going to lament over the fact that it hasn't happened (yet), as totally awesome as that would be.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a primordial tail to ditch and some prefrontal cortext to develop.*

*Totally just throwing those words out there. I'm not sure if I even know what they mean.  

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Dear Lewiston

Dear Lewiston, Maine,

You have not always been my favorite place. You're a bit drab, a bit run down, and tend to be the butt of a lot of unflattering jokes.


I'll be honest - I've been a bit of a snob when it comes to you, Lewiston. But I think I can change. I think we can change together. After all it was from you my husband came, and as much as I'd like to give him back sometimes, in the end, I love him and I appreciate all the cultural charm you've given him, like his really weird Maine/French-Canadian accent.

What's more, I am starting discover your charms. Tonight, for example, I enjoyed a really incredible dinner at one of your local restaurants and there were no french fries or lobster rolls in sight. And what was in sight was a delightful mixed bag (at least for Maine) of people, types of people who I do not get to see every day in our neck of the woods. I had never fully appreciated that about you Lewiston - you house a fascinating collage of folks who I do not meet and experience life with every day.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say, Lewiston, is that I'm sorry and I am, if you are, willing to give it another go.

What do you say?

Friday, October 17, 2014

My View

I don't often feel spoiled (though perhaps I ought to - I have a pretty wonderful life). I have my moments of peeking in on others' lives, often through social media or blogs, and a streak of jealousy runs through me, often accompanied with the thought, "If only we had a little more [fill in the blank]." That is usually followed by a dose of guilt, realizing that it's really not cute to covet what others have and to realize that the grass is always greener and that I really ought to appreciate what things I do have, which are many and good.

But goodness, sometimes it's nice to feel like you have something very special, something that not everyone can have. And this, this is what I have:

A stumbled upon lake while out on a going-to-nowhere drive.

A misty morning just outside of my parents' house.

Oh, the hills! An everyday delight.

Of course, anyone who travels to or lives in  Maine can see these beautiful places and claim them as their own. But there is something about these places that make my heart ring. I feel special for knowing them, some intimately and others just in passing. I do not own many things that are of great value or beauty, but I have these places which spoil my need for nature and beauty so. I have the view.