A chance to blog
I have the rare opportunity to blog right now, child-free, distraction-free. Scott came home early tonight and told me he’d take care of things at home. I should just get out and relax. So I headed through the park to Black Dog Cafe. Almond latte and cookie in hand, and relaxation sets in quickly.
So what do I want to write about? Well. First of all, here are my beautiful kids:
They were both sick last week, and I couldn’t resist laying Thaddeus down next to Ainsley for a few photos. I imagine photos like this will become more common as they grow. I love seeing them laugh and play together; they truly enjoy one another.
Secondly, after my Mother’s Day post last week, I wanted to share this one, Letter from a Grieving Mother,
from my friend, Courtney. On Mother’s Day I find myself thinking about those who are without mothers to celebrate, those who have lost a child, and those who are still waiting to be called “mama.” It’s easy to forget in the midst of all the emphasis on flowers, breakfast in bed, and spa treatments, but there are many who spend Mother’s Day with deep, sometimes unseen, sadness.
Finally, and also on the subject of motherhood, I recently read a collection of writings on that very topic. It was fairly feminist, which is not really my style, but I did find myself appreciating the variety of voices. One passage in particular resonated with me:
What did you learn from having a child?
I was alone all day in the house with an infant. I began watching daytime television. I watched soap operas. Women are always having surgery on daytime TV. I began to identify with those women. I began to feel as if I had had a lobotomy. I had always relied on being able to sleep long hours before. Now my daughter woke me every three hours. I had loved conversation before. Now I was alone in a house with an infant most of the time. And when I went out, always with my child and husband (I did not exist apart from them), I found I had lost my speech. I was inarticulate. I imagined people thought me stupid. I felt stunned, dumb. But there was something I had wanted to tell. Something profound.
I learned what it is like not to be able to speak.
(from “Feminism and Motherhood” by Susan Griffin, 1974)
I don’t watch soaps, and I don’t feel resentful in any way of my life (as I think this particular writer sounds), but I do understand what it is like to have so much to say and no way of expressing it. Here I am, with the opportunity to write, to pour out all the thoughts that have been forming, to share all the words I’ve stored up for so long.
So instead of words for the profundity of my thoughts, I leave you the profundity of these two little beings: