Feels Like Home

I had ... a strong glimpse of a feeling of very connected home-ness in my home this morning.  Standing and making coffee with the sun shining through the window behind me on my back and on the counter in front of me, the guest room I recently finished putting together in my side vision, it felt for a moment the way I remember my grandmother's house felt to me when i was a child.  My grandmother's house was one of the warmest, most welcoming places I've always been, and is the root of some of my fondest memories.

Like, "Right here is a place I am happy to be, would be happy to visit, others might be happy to visit, and I have momentary sublime contentedness".

I think it's the first time I've felt that in this space, or in a space of my own, at all, ever, maybe.


Unrelated to this specific experience, but tied to this post's title: Chantal Kreviazuk, "Feels Like Home"

Nightmares vs. Night Terrors

Nightmares and Night Terrors.  One is not the other.  Ravenna used to have both - there was a period of time where she couldn't sleep for more than 4 hours at a time without waking to one or the other.

Do you know what a night terror is?  I've never had one, but here is what it is like from the outside:

Ravenna "wakes up" screaming uncontrollably, completely unresponsive to anyone talking to her, picking her up, walking around with her, trying to calm her down.


I'd pick her up, walk around a bit with her, trying to talk to her, and then sit and rock with her.  All the while she continues screaming and crying hysterically, for 30 minutes maybe, sometimes more, sometimes less.

Then she finally falls back asleep, and later has no memory of this ever having happened.


The unresponsiveness and the inability to effect her or help pull her out of it were what were most terrifying

She has not had one of these for more than a year now.  I am so grateful.

There is still the occasional nightmare, but I would much rather have that, where she's a bit afraid but we can talk through it and I can soothe her.  She likes to play a "nightmare game" that a therapist suggested to me, where she tells me about what she dreamt and then we think up a way that it can end being resolved in a better state.  A "good ending".  She finds this to be very soothing and empowering.

Suggestions for early parenting

I found out that one of my first close friends, a girl I knew back in Junior high, is going to be a mother soon, along with her lesbian partner.  Here is the letter I wrote to her about my early parenting experiences:

---

Angie, congratulations!  

I know we have not kept up for - decades now!, oh my - but you were absolutely one of my favorite people when we were young.  Gifted and talented and full of life, you inspired me.  You were also one of my first crushes, which prompted any other number of self-discoveries down the line.  All that said, I love the idea that you and your partner are going to be nurturing and raising a child; you have so much to offer, and I think it will be a very lucky child, indeed.

Anyways, my recommendations:

Starting when my daughter, Ravenna, was just a week or two old, I attended a drop-in post-partum support group (http://www.birthandbeyond.com/firstweeks.html) in Seattle that met weekly.  Spending that time with other parents along with their similarly aged babies really helped me to gain confidence, to be less anxious, to get feedback and ideas for dealing with issues that were highly relevant at that point in her development, to develop an understanding of what was normal in terms of milestones, to be able to anticipate what changes were just around the corner, and to find solidarity in knowing that other parents were experiencing all the same issues that we were.  In case you wonder at all whether a group like this will be relevant when neither of you will have birthed the child, there was a set of lesbian parents with an adopted infant who attended First Weeks at the same time that I did, and they seemed to enjoy and benefit greatly from it also.  You wouldn't have the same group available to you, of course, but I am sure there are at some similar resources where you live. 

I loved carrying Ravenna around in a sling when she was small (as opposed to strollers - I never actually owned one).  It felt close and connected in a lovely way.  Slings are also super easy to pack up and have anywhere with you, at any time, on a moment's notice - something you can't say about a stroller!  The native sling was my favorite for easy packing and quick/cozy use (http://www.newnativebaby.com/) and the moby was my favorite when I wanted something more versatile that could lend itself to any number of positions, both back and front (http://www.mobywrap.com/).

I also did elimination communication (EC - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elimination_communication) with Ravenna, which is a process of learning to recognize unspoken cues, experimenting to find certain timing rhythms that work for your child, and giving your child early tools to explicitly communicate in a way that you can understand when they need to eliminate waste, so that they can do so in some other place - held over a toilet, held over a sink, held over a baby potty, held over a diaper they aren't wearing, etc.  I also used cloth diapers without a cover, or with a thin cover, that helped more than anything to train my observation of her unspoken cues (and gave me a quick, direct form of feedback when I had missed a cue, in the form of a little bit of wet).  

Thanks to EC, by the time Ravenna was 4 months old she was able to sometimes communicate via a specific sound (psssss) that she had to pee, so that I could get her someplace where she could do it outside of her diaper.  She once managed to hold it for 10 minutes, the remainder of a bus ride home, at that age.  When she was 10-12 months old she regularly communicated her need to potty via sign language and was largely out of diapers with few accidents.  I don't know what your inclinations are and EC certainly isn't for everyone, but in case you didn't already know about it and it might appeal to your sensibilities, now you know about the idea!  I personally loved it and plan to approach pottying the same way with any other children I might have.

The most important thing I learned about early parenting is this: there is a wide range of possibility for any number of parenting choices; slings vs strollers, co-sleeping vs sleep-conditioning vs other sleep methods, EC vs western pottying with cloth diapers vs western pottying with disposables, buying processed and specially marketed baby food vs using a handmixer to feed your child the same food that you eat, etc.

Because you put care and consideration into every choice that you make, it is easy to fall into a trap of thinking that your way is the best way.  One issue with this sort of thinking is that you can get stuck holding yourself to a choice that you find isn't working for you and is a source of daily frustration, maybe because you are invested in it, or you've been telling yourself that anything else is sub-par, or you feel like you would be failing as a parent if you went back to re-evaluate other options.  Another issue is that it is judge the choices of everyone else who went another way.  But I know people who made parenting choices all across these spectrums - and each our children has grown and thrived in spite of the different beginnings.  I think ultimately it matters less WHICH choices you make, and more that you are loving, that you are attentive, and that you are engaging yourself in a process where you pay attention to what is working for you what is not, and you adapt accordingly.  Be accepting and loving of yourself, your partner, your child, and your peers.  (Don't beat yourself up about whatever struggles you encounter!)  Allow yourself to make mistakes, and try to look child rearing as an evolving journey of discovery rather than a set, constrained path going the "right way".  Remember that children, even infants, are incredibly, amazingly resilient.

If you'd ever like to chat about these or anything else, just let me know.  I'd be tickled to hear from you.

Best wishes,

Kathy

Tiden flyger snabbt

Ju äldre jag blir, desto snabbare verkar tiden flyga.

Som ett barn minns jag långa dagar där jag ofta ropade till mina föräldrar: “Jag är uttråkad!”  Varje dag avgav ändlösa timmar för att leka, lära mig, och undersöka.  Tiden var något att fylla.  Mitt hela liv sträckte sig ut framför mig.

Vid något tillfälle började det ändras.  Jag vet inte exakt när men jag började ibland känna att det var för mycket saker att göra och det var inte alltid nog tid for att göra dem alla.

Nu är jag 34 år gammal och det är distinkt aldrig nog med tid.  Timmar är en dyrbar handelsvara.  Oavsett hur effektivt jag jobbar kan jag aldrig kan avsluta allt som jag menar.  Jag vet inte den meningen av “uttråkad” längre.

Vad än mer passerar timmarna och dagarna jättesnabbt nu.  Inga fler är långsamma timmarna som breder ut sig framför mig, som väntar på att bli fyllda.  Det känns som för några månader sedan som födde jag ett barn, men hon blev 6 åring för två veckor sedan.  Det känns som igår som jag lämnade Seattle för att flytta till Sverige, men det har faktiskt varit nästan två år nu.

Tids bortgång nu påminner mig lite av sitta i baksätet av bilen som ett barn, försöker fokusera på världen som virvlar förbi utanför bilen.   Jag skulle ställa min uppmärksamhet på en plats och det skulle komma i fokus - ett träd, en uppochnervänd skottkärra, och ett fält breder sig ut bakom - men jag kunde ändå hålla mitt fokus om platsen för en kort stund innan det gled undan.  Och hela tiden rusade alltihopa kring platsen förbi i ett sådant suddigt dis så att jag inte kunde plocka ut några detaljer förutom svischar av färg.  Allt var konsumerat så småningom av det strömmande ofokuserade ruset av färger.

Som är hur livet känns just nu.  Jag kan fokusera på spridda fläckar här och där för att föra dem ut i mer klarhet - skolarbete som måste göras, det arbete som vårt hus är i behov av, eller min dotters anpassning till sin nya skola - men allt annat är en rusning och en virvel och ens dessa fokuserade fläckar är snart konsumerade av virvlande också.

Vad är tid för dig?  Är det långsamt och fullt av möjligheter eller fräser det förbi så snabbt att du knappt kan hänga med?  Har ditt intryck av tid förändrats under ditt livs lopp på samma sätt som mitt intryck har förändrats?  Tiden var en gång långsam men nu håller det på att glida genom mina fingrar, aldrig sakta, snabbare och snabbare varje dag.

Relief

My mother found out recently that she has cancer. So scary. This week she had a hysterectomy, and had her ovaries and pelvic lymph nodes taken out as well. My father was excellent at keeping us all up to date via SMS, but the day she had the surgery felt endless, still.

Post surgery, it looks like the cancer may have been contained entirely within the uterus, so after some time to recover from the surgery she may be fine with no further action needed! I am feeling very thankful.

Haircut

Happy us!

Tired

Ravenna is in her dance class right now. I am tired. I like her having the opportunity to dance, to become more aware of her body, and to socialize, but it really makes Saturday mornings a whole lot less restful.

new fangled contraptions

Here we go, first post ever from my new smartphone. (Such a lovely  early birthday present!)

I've been thinking about things I'd like to post quite often, usually when I am out and about with no easy access to computers; maybe this will help me to actually get things like that posted.

Feet

Eight feet belonging to six different people were discovered along the coast of British Columbia between August 2007 and August 2011.

That seems a bit strange and macabre. I would never expect to find a human foot while strolling the coast.

Time, again

There's never enough time in the day.

I wish I had 2 or 3 minions that I could just set to do my bidding all day, every day, when I head off to school.

Maybe...

• a Laundry-Cooking-Shopping Minion
• an Unpacking-Boxes Minion
• a TakingDownWallpaper-PatchingWalls-Painting Minion.

Yes, I think I could be content with that.

Time

Time is slipping through my fingers. Yesterday, I was standing right there...and now suddenly 3 years are past.

It reminds me a bit of sitting in the back seat of the car as a child, trying to focus on the world swirling by outside. I'd set my attention to one spot and it would come into focus - a tree, an overturned wheelbarrow, and a field spreading out behind - but I could only hold it for a short moment before it slipped away. All the while everything surrounding that spot rushed by in such a blurred haze that I could not pick out any details except for swishes of color.

And, yet, if I did not apply that focused attention to singular spots along the way, they also becomes nothing more than a swish of colors rushing by.

That streaming, unfocused rush of colors ultimately consumed everything.

That is how life feels right now. I can focus on scattered spots here and there to bring them out in more clarity, but everything else is a rush and a swirl, and even these focused spots ultimately get caught up in the whirl as well.

Food

I miss english muffins and bagels. Hard bread just isn't the same.

Sweden

The first several months were really hard.

Things are starting to pick up now.

I'm actually starting to feel at home.

Still some hurdles to overcome and a lot of adjusting to do, but the sun is coming out and it's spring in more ways than one. Here comes the sun, little darlin', here comes the sun... and I say, it's all right.

I am meaning to come out of my antisocial hibernation and start catching up on correspondence one of these days soon, and perhaps start taking and posting pictures. Will link that here if I don't put it here in the first place.

Gaslighting

I never knew there was a word for it.

Small Happiness

I'm glad, though, that blogger is letting me post properly. When I posted the r.i.p. post I actually had to send it from my email to blogger, because I could not get the blogger posting page to load on any window on any browser. The frustration I felt, wanting so badly to express something, and the tools themselves blocking my way.

Spring Cleaning...Wish It Were Spring, Anyway

I went cleaning out spam comments, just now, and...a great deal of the non-spam comments that exist on this blog were from bem.

So many thoughtful responses to the random, infrequent posts these last few years.

I miss bem.

R.I.P. bem

R.I.P. bem

A friend of mine passed away today.

Brian was one of my first close friends off the internet.  I played a MUD back from....1995 to 2001, maybe, and he was the implementer.  

If he was here, still, he would have been one of the first people to read this post; even after all these years and my long periods of blogging inactivity, he still kept an eye on here.

He lived in Portland, OR, which is close to Seattle, so when I moved there in 2000 I would see him every so often. 

I helped him through some rough times in his life, and he was strong and supportive for me through some of mine.

His MUD (rom.org 9000) went down in the early 2000's, but someone from the MUD convinced him to put it back up a year ago.  I logged on tonight for the second time in maybe 8 years.  Talking to people who I was fond of, in the way that I am fond of Rampage people now, when I was 16, 17, 18....

It felt surreal.

There was someone logged in tonight who had a ring item that had been "engraved".... by me.  And his description had all sorts of nods to me.  I could hardly remember who he was, but I had the distinct sense that it was someone I had liked quite well at some point in my life.

It's a bit unsettling to realize there's so much I can't remember.

And that time keeps on flowing by.

And I might be gone, at any moment.

Or if I'm still here, soon enough the moments I am living now will be moments that are lost to my memory.

A few years ago Brian met the love of his life, and about three years ago, asked her to marry him.  I think the last time I saw him was at his wedding.  He was so happy.  This woman and this relationship really seemed to transform him.  Every time I talked to him since, he seemed so happy.

It feels like - it was too soon.

He isn't that much older than me, he was a peer.

He'd recently found such great happiness in his life.

I loved him, he was very dear to me -

I meant to visit him before I moved to Sweden, but that's one of the things that never happened, I was so busy.  Now it's too late.

I wasn't ready to lose him.

It's awful to see him go so soon after he had found great happiness in his life.

It makes me feel more mortal myself.  I feel very blessed these last few years, but I could pass away and lose it all at any time.

Or lose the people closest to me.

It's scary.

And, my friend, Brian - it's sad.

I wrote him a mail today, after I found out.  I know he'll never read it, but -  I needed to say goodbye, somehow.

Brian, I will miss you.

I do miss you.

I am sad.

Göteborg to Leeds

Pigeons! In the train station!

So many people here with so many differently colored coats. In Sweden, it seems like almost everyones' coat is black.

The UK is unfamiliar to me, but it somehow feels so much more familiar than Sweden. In some ways, it almost feels more familiar than Seattle, as I sit gazing at the scenery out the trains. I don't know why that is. I don't think it is just the language - when I first noticed it, I was on a train full of Czechs, I think. The architecture, the fields, the occasional horse, the hedged lines between fields, the faint hint of frost seeping out from all the shadows and corners; perhaps it is in some ways like the midwest of my childhood, but in others not. Yet the feeling of familiarity is strong.

I found it funny to see Indian-looking people speaking with Scottish accents. Unexpected! My eyes and my ears could not reconcile.

I love subways. The feel in the core of my body standing on a crowded subway as it accellerates, runs speedily, and then decelerates, working to maintain balance. I feel taller, more at ease in my body, and more grounded when I step off. The faintly dirty, sour smell in the underground stations; I haven't smelled it since I was last in New York City,

Every train station that I have been to (3 so far) has been quite chilly. No overheating for these Brits! I like it.

I like London. I stepped out onto a London street at the King's Cross Station, and felt such joy! The buildings, the people, the double decker buses...I loved it the first time I saw it, at 13, and I still feel that way now that I see it again. I forget when I am away, but the moment I am here again and I step out into it, I want more. I want to visit London more. I want to explore her, to know her, to discover her crooks and crannies.

But, oh my - I had to pay to use the restroom. How very strange that was. Theoretically, I know that this is the way it works in other places, but I have never before paid to use the restroom, myself.

I am eating my first mincemeat pie. I'm not quite sure what consitutes mincemeat. I'm also not quite sure that I like it.

There is, of course, much that I should write about having to do with Sweden. But I think I am so deeply involved in processing it right now that I cannot step back to write about it. I feel more clear here on this short trip to the UK, a lovely little interlude.

I am, however, missing Henrik and Ravenna.

All That We Leave Behind

Steve said to me at breakfast the other day that my leaving is one of the most significant events in his life.

I'm really going to miss him, too.

:-/