myself

On being a fun mom:

When I'm a fun mom, the kids get to do cool stuff. Like play with water. Or paint. Or scoop rice. They have a blast. They are doing great things that are developmentally good for them. I don't go all free reign with them, but I do hold back the war cry of "Mess!" some.

There is nothing that either my 19mo or my 4 1/2 yo loves more than to play with a trickle of water in the sink. Pouring, filling, stirring. Great activities for the 18mo developing motor skills. When I'm a fun mom, I let him do it, and then mop up later, suppressing the urge to cringe and enjoying his happiness.

The other day Ellis spent nearly 20 minutes moving about 15 popcorn kernels around an empty egg carton that had some leftover liquid purple watercolor in it.

The busy-ness! The happiness! The learning! *sigh* The mess!

First day of 2010. Sitting here with my coffee.

I kept forgetting it was New Year's Eve last night until fireworks woke me up. A really party-er I am. We watched Up last night again, and I think it's the best movie of 2009. What movie has you sobbing, then two seconds later laughing your head off? And it's actually a movie intended for children!? But complex enough for grownups? It really is the best movie ever. Ellis calls it U-p. He spells it; it's so cute.

I've been thinking of the holidays this past week. How glad I am that Christmas was over. Me!? I love Christmas! It's my favorite. ("I like smiling. It's my favorite.") Growing up I was so susceptible to the ambiance, the music, the cookies, the snowflakes, the gift making and shopping. Christmas brought my college roommate and I together. We bonded over Christmas and became fast friends.

This year December was one long panic attack. Trying to make things, yet becoming disillusioned with Handmade Holidays at the eleventh hour, but no choice but to press on (sort of like having a baby. ha!). Counting pennies, frustrated with unexpected expenses. Trying to stay positive, focusing on what is right and good, yet, there still must be a gift to give, no matter how simple.

And Marlowe chooses this time to eschew sleeping. I think we are starting the long journey towards the cutting of incisors. The molars were conquered in November, and this is the next mountain to climb.

So a combination between sleep deprivation and trying to make at least a very simple Christmas happen left me feeling chewed up and spit out. I did not enjoy Christmas this year. There. True confession. I was happy that people liked their gifts. It made all the stress worth it. But next year, I don't care how poor we are, I'm shopping. No more Handmade Holidays until my kids are older and sleep.

People say, "oh, you don't have to do much for Christmas." I didn't. This was me already doing the bare minimum. I made peppermint bark, not cookies!

My Scrooge Tale of Woe sets me up for the New Year. It's only fitting that after a season like Christmas, our only holiday that gets a true season and not just a day, that we should all be sick of the upheaval and crave a blank slate. And then we get a New Year! How we all rejoice and make resolutions.

Exercise! Eat healthily! Read! Blog!

Yes, I hope to turn over a new leaf in all those areas. But I realize that when you have little kids sometimes things just don't go as planned, and you just have to make a new plan. One that involves a little more mess, and a little more time to do things.

BUT

I'm totally digressing from what I intended to write in this blog post, which was to tell you about my new books as avenue for the New Years Blank Slate Thrill Ride, otherwise known as New Years Resolution. So setting the existential rabbit trail aside:

* Someone very close to me got me two books that I have wanted for years but have been out-of-print/hard-to-find. The first is Umberto Eco's Experiences in Translation. I'm not a huge fan of translating, and I don't think I have a particular knack for it either. But I get along okay when I need to do it, and seem to find myself in research projects that require a lot of it. Or at least I used to, since I haven't done much scholarly work recently. This is something that I resolve to change this year. I want to submit a journal article and to apply to grad school to finish my PhD.

The second of the books in the Highly Prized category is a book that I have longed for. I couldn't find it in libraries, yet it was constantly being cited. Francoise Robin's La cour d'Anjou-Provence: La vie artistique sous le regne de Rene is a cultural/art history of the patronage of Rene d'Anjou, a fifteenth-century French king. I first learned about Rene when I was studying abroad in Aix-en-Provence, in the south of France, and passed his statue everyday. When I got back home to my history major, I began my obsession with all things Rene, which, of course, plunged me into fifteenth-century patronage studies and whisked me off to Burgundy. All along, I've wanted to study Rene, but have been redirected by wiser advisors who want to me get degrees. Last night I was poking around Amazon, and there seems to be a little surge in Rene studies in the Anglophone scholarly world. Can it be? Perhaps my dream dissertation may be attainable.

Lest I get carried away, though:

* I also bought my first Ina Garten cookbook. After flipping through three of them, I finally chose Barefoot Contessa Back to Basics, because it's the one that made me salivate the most. I'm picky and rarely buy a new cookbook, because I think you can find most of what you need to know on the internet. (And with an epicurious.com app, who can go wrong?) I don't need the extra clutter of too many cookbooks. But I have some friends who are Ina fans, and when they make me something from one of her recipes, I stop cold after the first bite, and must know everything about it, because it was the best ever.

Her recipe for chocolate cake that Jonesey made for our two-year-old's birthday two-and-a-half years ago is one I still remember. I don't like chocolate cake. In fact, I'd rather not eat dessert than eat chocolate cake. I simply don't like it. Jonesey made me try a bite of Ina Garten's chocolate cake. And I not only liked it, I loved it! And I'm still talking about it over two years later. So, I figured a woman of such genius to make a recipe of chocolate cake that I like is definitely a woman worth paying some extra attention to. And so far, even though I've just sat in bed and read the cookbook, I'm enjoying her immensely. I like her perspective on ingredients: fresh, quality, seasonal. And I like that the recipes are solid and have that extra something to make it unique and special. Eating well is something I take very seriously, from ingredients to the actual dish prepared, because it impacts our whole life.

* and, of course, I couldn't let my gift card go without getting this year's raddest craft book, Bend the Rules with Fabric by Amy Karol, about printing, stamping, painting, dyeing, etc with fabric. This book is going to be a lot of fun. As I've started to get into a lot of the different techniques she writes about, I'm really thankful for this resource and finding her pointers from directions to actual materials used are very helpful.

And so begins a new year of thinking, cooking, crafting.

And mothering these two...which deserves a post of its own, but can hardly be distilled to one post.

Mental Health

Cool new bloggy template!!!! (so if you're reading in a feed reader, come on over and check out the real deal.) hubby is still tweaking some, but it's nice to have a fresh, new look around here.

Tomorrow begins December. Aka Month o' Madness. Handmade Holidays is freaking my mind out right now. But, I will give a little attention to this little corner of the internet, because tomorrow begins the December Photo Project!!!! WOOOHOO! Don't forget to sign up.

'Scuse me while I silently go CRAZY over here.

And, yes, I'm all set to go with the Wreath o' Fun tomorrow. I mean, nothing is wrapped yet, but I got all the stuff.

I've been desperate to do some kind of exercise class for a long time. Do something consistently at any rate. It's hard for the whole family to make time for me to do this. An actual class raises the bar a bit in terms of commitment. One of the interpreters that is often engaged by Ellis's school is also a certified yoga instructor, and just started teaching a deaf yoga class at Ellis's school, which is only three blocks away. I've gone twice now. So far no one else has come to the session that I've been able to go to, but the teacher has been so kind to teach just me. And she does talk for me and signs, which is helpful for me, so that when I do get to a class with other deaf members, and she teaches voice-off, I'll know better what she means.

I'm not athletic. So those aerobics classes where you have to keep up AND count AND do all this footwork? Not for me. I love yoga. It's mental and physical and you do what perfectly suits you. And you have enough time to think about it. And I feel like a Greek statue. What could be cooler?

So November is supposed to be National Blog Writing Month, because you know we all have extra time to blog with the holidays coming up. But I've been wanting to blog more. And since the baby is napping and I'm waiting for the Advil to kick the headache, I don't feel like cleaning at the moment, so you get a blog entry. I get amnesty for Sundays, because it's hard to blog then. So I start National Blog Writing Month on Nov 2 and hope for the majority of days in Nov. Besides it'll be good practice for the December Photo Project (ahem, Rebecca *grin*).

This November I'm super excited about unpacking more boxes (yeaaaa, um),
and Sew, Mama Sew's Handmade Holidays 3. This year I'm planning on starting just a tad earlier with my own Handmade Holidays. I'd also like to resurrect my poor Etsy shop, so if you have something that you've seen me make that you'd like to put under the tree for a certain little person, let me know, and I'll see what I can do. Or just keep your eyes peeled for announcements.

Well, November is off to a good start. I've got a good budget in place for the month, which I was a little anxious about since moving totally rearranged our finances. I signed up for a yoga class. I walk Ellis to school everyday. And hopefully, I will get my very own washer and dryer for the first time ever. That will be a post in and of itself. I also plan to go to an academic conference for the first time since 2007. Woohoo!

K M's awake, better scoot.

1. If I run out of Hyland's Teething Tablets should I wait several days before getting more or should I run with all haste to the nearest teething tablets distributor to replenish my supply?
You should run with all haste. No, nursing won't "do" in a pinch. Unless, of course, you want to stay up all night long with the baby. Upon taking the teething tablets, you will notice a demonstrable calm settle over baby who, like, all of a sudden is going to sleep of all things!

2. I have a hard time at the end of the day, say from about 4 pm on. It is a very chaotic time and my patience is thin. Any ideas to help me relax?
Well, I have found that well-timed glass of wine, preferably shared with ones spouse over dinner does wonders to relax and rejuvenate the parenting soul to soldier on through bedtime. Yes, relaxing and rejuvenating are kind of opposites. Um. I'm too tired to sort this one out. And then when the kids are in bed, you can either a) have another glass or b) have coffee ice cream with chocolate syrup on it.

3. The DVD player is not hooked up, what should i do with my sick kid?
Let him watch a DVD on your laptop.

4. We're moving in two weeks. I stink at packing. What should I do?
Weep, sort papers, weep, watch hubby mow through boxes like a freaky packing machine. Focus on how you'll have three times the space and can walk to school. Eyes on the prize!

Ellis runs ahead of me in all his four-year-old boy vivacity. As I lumber along with the baby on my back, lugging our little bag full of snacks and water bottles, I watch him, waiting for the moment, just before he disappears around the corner, when he'll turn around and make eye contact. I wave him down signing WAIT FOR MOMMY! but he's already plopped down on the park bench and signs WAIT. As I get close, up he pops again, and I watch the back of his head bounce, jump, and dash along.

Cut to later. Ellis is picking up his fifteen-month-old brother. Again. He adores his brother, but sometimes his love is a bit too lavish. I kneel down, fully intending to affirm his love, but to talk with him about more appropriate ways to express it, while firmly prying his arms away from the baby, who is screaming his head off. Ellis drops to the ground, flailing and squeezing his eyes shut.

Four years ago, when we learned that our brand new baby was born profoundly deaf, we knew our experience as parents would be different. We got a kick out of being able to vacuum in the same room as a sleeping baby. We cheered at his vocabulary of ASL at such a young age. We stomped the floor to get his attention.

However, I feel like it's only been this year that I've really begun to get a glimpse at what it means for Ellis to be deaf, and deaf in our hearing family. I've started to see how he settles himself socially. Personally, I'm starting to see the particular ways I fall short as a parent. True, nobody is a perfect parent, but I'm speaking of the ways in which I struggle as a Hearing Parent of a Deaf Kid.

The primary aspect of this unique experience is communication. We are settling into the bilingual dance between spoken English and ASL. Two years ago Ellis got a CI. He's doing pretty well with it, his receptive language is stronger than expressive. I can talk to him without signing through the simple aspects of our routine and that works out fine. He doesn't like to wear it at home. We don't press him to, but, I will admit, I may or may not have bribed him with chocolate milk to wear it at home sometimes. He wears it at school or usually any other time when we're not home. He is most comfortable with ASL, and that is the language we use with him primarily, even if we are speaking, too. This is especially true in discipline situations, where I need to use whatever language we have to its fullest, and since ASL is his preferred language, that is what I use.

From the beginning, we've pursued our education in ASL vigorously. We've taken classes, lived in the dictionary, had Deaf Mentors. But we are far from native signers. We get by. We can communicate fairly effectively with our four-year-old: we can read books in ASL and talk to him about the world around us.

I have found lately, though, that my ASL is starting to fail my parenting needs. It's taken me awhile to figure out what the matter is, because I know the signs and how to use them, but somehow I'm failing to communicate. I think there is a Deaf presence that I don't have. I'm not really sure how to describe it. A way of using my body that transcends the actual signs, that enters into his space, meets it, communicates with it. Connection is a key part of my parenting philosophy and to be so defeated by the basic communication that I need to make it happen is beyond frustrating. It has deeply discouraged me in these past few months especially.

It's not all a total big Fail. We do get along, after all. We do connect. I give him as much physical presence as I can. I give him as much language as I can. And we are a happy family. But sometimes I look at my hearing friends with their hearing kids--parents and children who speak the same native language--and wonder at the ease of it all. To just talk, effortlessly.

He shuts his eyes. Bam. Communication stops. He glances away from me, focusing back to his play. Communication stops. Sure, he might pick up more than I think peripherally. But it is unnerving to have the eye contact lost. The conversation could just be small talk about his play, but it is lost mid-sentence. Is my signing that weak? Do I not have the persona to indicate that I'm talking to you? Ellis seems to think that I can only hear him if I'm looking at him. He screams my name while I am driving until I glance back giving him the visual acknowledgment that I hear him. (Dang! We need a mirror!) He also thinks that if I don't acknowledge him the split second he says my name that I must not hear him, so he repeats it at blood-curdling volumes, until I can turn to him. I'm rambling a little. This summer has been a roller-coaster. My nerves feel shot from his screaming my name, though it's getting a little better.

He's changing socially. We were at a birthday party with all hearing kids, kids he's known since infancy. Another guest, another little boy, ran up to Ellis, hi! what's your name? Ellis didn't know what he said. How much do I step in to intervene? Do I translate for E? Let it go and watch him slip into isolated play? Do I go through the conversation for the bazillionth time? oh, hi. His name is Ellis. He can't hear you, so we talk with our hands. can you say 'hi' like this? Some kids get into it. Some feel awkward and back away. Bless the little British kid at the park the other day who made fast friends with E despite his curious quality.

How do I balance it all? As a mother I want to protect him from all this. I want to make a world that fits him perfectly. I don't want to have to teach him how to negotiate through languages and worlds. I wish I had more to offer him. Yet at the same time, he's doing a pretty good job. Sometimes, I just have to stop and let go. Let him run ahead, trusting that he'll turn around. After all, I am not in control. The God who gave me Ellis also has Ellis perfectly in His arms.

Hanging on the hammock with Marlowe and my two nieces. We celebrated Katarina's third birthday.

Zipping down to Lancaster. Chilling with my aged grandmother for very short periods of time. Just looking at my boys exhausts her.

Reuniting with the local public library. This could be a good thing. Just gotta keep on top of due dates.

Enjoying perfect temps every day.

Got a slip'n'slide for the backyard. yes, I had show to Ellis how to use it. Yes, I'm still awesome at slip'n'sliding.

Doing music for a church friend's wedding. I sang a solo. I don't think I've ever sung a solo in my adult life. Also played cello. 'Cause I'm like a Swiss army knife like that.

Just trying to keep up.

Opened up a Word document. Haven't done that in a long time.

Have I become like the worst blogger ever? Me, who blogged faithfully every minutiae of my life? Well, I would like to blog a bit more, and I'm going to try to set myself some personal writing challenges. The sad thing is that a lot of what I once blogged about can be distilled into the 140 characters of a Twitter entry. And since my Twitter automatically updates my Facebook status, well, I end up doing what I vowed to never do: chitchatting with my Twitter/FB friends more than substantive blogging. Not that I'm typically verbose anyway. It's just that when you start a blog entry, there's a potential for verbosity.

The blog is the only place I really write anymore. And it's sad when I don't write. I never thought that would be the case, when I would write so little. I backed up my hard drive tonight. There were only a handful of items in the "Documents" folder. So sad!

As Marlowe eats more solid food, I nurse less. And then I get less of the happy hormone that breastfeeding gives you, oxytocin. And then I get the blues. Happened with Ellis, too. Then when I get the blues I get introspective and start to despair that the only productive thing I did that day was pick up the same toys over and over and over again. And is that really productive? Since I have to keep repeating the task? This is a season. I will exercise more, take in more sunshine, eat dark chocolate.

We've been living life. Making things. thinking things. and yes, even reading things. More to come.