My tongue is in my hand…

Archive for February 2010

I have a different kind of blog tonight. Tonight, I am glad I have a place to blog because I have a string of thoughts going through my head that I’d much rather just editorialize than get into a conversation about at this point. Besides the fact that there is not one to have this conversation with, at least right now.

A friend of mine joined a group on facebook. It is this group:

Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene! (Official petition to Facebook)

I was curious, so I went to the group. I scrolled through hundreds of pictures, read comments, browsed discussions. And I can’t shake this feeling. It’s an uneasy feeling.

I did not nurse, at all. I did not want to nurse, at all. I do not regret this at all. Because I knew that I so strongly opposed leaching my child to my breast that it would not be beneficial. Even so, I researched before making this decision, just to be sure, and felt that ultimately, I would not be doing my daughter a major disservice by not breastfeeding. When I gave her a bottle, I would hold her to my chest, let her cheek rest on my skin. I never propped her bottle and walked away. She also stopped taking a bottle around 10 months. I felt like this skin contact in the early months was the most important part of the feeding process (besides actually eating, you know?).

I almost always consider emotional health first in any situation, but particularly with parenting. So I felt comfortable with this. I didn’t feel that I was depriving her physical or mental health benefits in the long run either, truthfully. I feel like I nurtured these things by not baby talking her, challenging her, and not keeping her in a sterile environment, and feeding her a variety of solids. Natalie went with me everywhere, I didn’t make people slather up with antibacterial gel before they touched her, I paid attention, I let her cry it out, I did things I felt were best to acclimate her to the world, to life, to self soothing, to me.

For what I can remember, all of my friends that have had kids so far are breastfeeding. I’m super fine with this. I was breastfed. I don’t care if they nurse in front of me. I’m all for it. It’s free. It’s natural. It’s you feeding your kid. Have at it. Your life, your kid, you choices.

It is so extremely unappealing to me though. And I KNOW that breastfeeding is the natural course of things. But no matter how many pictures I look at, I can’t shake this really disturbed feeling. First of all, it does seem related to sexuality. That is honestly one reason I did not want to breastfeed. I can’t really be okay with my breasts have multiple purposes. I KNOW. Also, it’s just too much for me, too needy, too intimate, to demanding. I hate the idea of this little person literally sucking something from my body whenever they need to eat. That makes me cringe. I do not want to be needed like that. I do not want things sucked from my body by little people. Even if they are my little people. Even if it’s food. I KNOW. I mean, if I had to do it, I would do it. But I didn’t have to. So I didn’t. Gladly.

So then, I began wondering if women who nurse are actually more sexually open or more intimate with their lovers than those who don’t. Is there any kind of connection between the two?

I’ve always considered myself open sexually and a person desiring and capable of intimacy…but am I?

It almost seems to me that I am sexually willing, open to sexuality and I am willing and open to intimacy, but I have a gap between connecting the two. I know my experiences, my train of thought, my defense mechanisms have me in that place. And perhaps, I’ve known I’ve been in that place for a while…I just wonder, how does it relate to my mothering? (Obviously subtracting the sexuality from it). Am I as intimately connected to my daughter as I “should” be? Is there really a level to which this can be measured and compared? Do I have a distance within me that I will not even allow my daughter to cross? Will this hurt her in the long run?

I’m not domestic. I can’t really find it within me to give a shit about “homey” things on a regular basis. Yea, yea, I want my house to be clean, comfortable, safe. I want it to be full of things that reflect my life and make me feel “at home”. I want to eat decently ( most of the time) and don’t mind cooking when I feel like it and can take my time and enjoy it. But life is so big, so much other stuff comes first, stays forefront in my mind. I find it much more important to hang out with friends or family or talk or write or think or experience something than to play house.

And I’m finding, now that many of my friends are having kids and our lives are carving themselves out a little more, I’m afraid I’m being reminded again at how different I am. I don’t diminish how hard it is to be at home with your kids, to run your home while being with those kids, and never getting to have an excuse of being too busy with work, or getting a break from being mom while at work  (like I do). And on some days I think, damn, “If I could just stay home, maybe I could finally get my shit together around here!” But I know I would feel like I was wasting myself on motherhood alone. Is that horrible? Isn’t raising a child like the most important job, ever? But if that were *all* I was doing, I would be so disappointed and dissatisfied with myself. This is in no way to say that’s how other moms should feel, seriously. My mom stayed home. I would never say she should be disappointed with this, she was a major player in what was a kick ass childhood for me. But I would say she needed more. She needed to be more than “mom” for 20 years.I believe she would be happier now, if she had pursued something for herself beyond motherhood then. And honestly, I think that would have only done great things for us as well. The better you feel personally, the more you can offer. And maybe that’s where I am when I make whatever decisions I make that don’t seem very “mom”. I know I have to do what’s best for me if I’m going to be worth a fuck as a mom.

Maybe part of it is that feminist in me. I don’t want to depend on someone else to bring in money. I can do that. I will do that. I also don’t need anyone else to run my home. I can do that. I will do that. As I see fit. Maybe it’s just my pretty fierce sense of independence. Maybe it’s the overachiever in me. Maybe it’s ADHD. I know it’s not just that I want to be making a change in the community because if I were an at home mom I could be volunteering like crazy and involved in so many things around me…so… maybe I’m just me.

I love my daughter. I loved her before I met her, before she was formed in my womb. I want to teach her to be loving, kind, compassionate, full of belief, and joy and peace. I want her to be strong, to be able to pick herself up when she falls down, to be able to reach out to someone else who has fallen down. I want her to be able to ask for help, to be connected to a large community. I want her to seek out her dreams, to be active in creating the life she wants. I want her to make her own decisions, with intelligence and passion. I want her to seek guidance and wisdom. I want her to know I love her, deeply and fiercely and to the very best of my ability , all the time, every second of her life, screw ups and successes all the same. I want her to have fun, to breathe and live and enjoy life, no matter what comes her way. I want her to be able to make the best out of situations, to know obstacles are opportunities. I want her to have intimate relationships. I want her to never settle for other’s standards, but to seek her own.  I want her to accept love, to claim hope, to possess peace, to ride joy. I want her to look at my life and admire it more than she criticizes it.

This is why I needed to write tonight. To get here.  Who cares if I formula fed and am made uneasy by breastfeeding. Who really gives a damn? This previous paragraph is where my heart is, where my intention as a mother is. And I am almost positive the 10 months of bottle delivered Enfamil won’t make a goddamn difference.

Posted on: February 10, 2010

Today…I just don’t know. The day itself was fine. A little nervewrecking still learning new things with this new position, but once I got to my in laws to pick up my daughter, I started losing it. By the time I was in my driveway staring at my headlights on my garage door, I just started to cry. To face the night at home just seemed like too much to ask of me. As I let Bodie (the dog) out to pee I crouched down by the car and just started crying. I don’t know.

I got rid of a good bit of wine tonight (1/2 a glass of which I spilled). I made a casserole and brownies. Fed, bathed, and cuddled Natalie. Read stories, watched a movie and sent her to bed. Did dishes and laundry. Talked to my dad and husband on the phone. Mopped up the spilled wine. Took a muscle relaxer. Got on here and browsed around…I want to create, I want to write letters, but I feel- whatever I feel. Incapable apparently.

The morning comes far too soon. I wish the night stretched on so much longer than it does. I’m not ready to do this all again.

And yes, I realize this post is unfortunately close to another depressing post. It seems I am only managing  to push something out when  I’m off…

But who knows what tomorrow may bring.

I’m heading off to slip into a warm, quiet sleep now…to be somewhere between today and tomorrow.

Til then –

Alright, so here’s the February page of last years calender:

February 1: Superbowl @ Patti’s Made Margarita Pie and Iced Brownies. Went to Hope Church

February 4: SNOW DAY! and Caribou

February 5: Crazy busy at work. First time to TimberRidge

February 6: Hawthornes w/ Natalie (Manicotti and Tiramisu) 🙂

February 8: Went to Dulins Grove. Movie with Rach and Steak N Shake

February 11: Dinner at Mom and Dad’s. Wine, Rain, and breakfast

February 13: Anzi’s. Saw Sonny, Angela, Lily. Last salaried day 😦

February 14: V-Day cake, presents for Nat. Visit Mom and Dad. Library and downtown Concord with Natalie

February 15: Grocery Store. Pizza and ice cream w/ Carol.

February 16: Did Jason’s Myspace. Watched My Name is Earl with Jason.

February 19: Book Club @ Sharon’s. The Godmother and pizza dip

February 20: Chinese and ice cream night

February 21: Dad’s store, Target $/Clearance, Maw Maw’s and Hawthornes

February 22: Watched The Wedding Date while Nat napped and Jason played Xbox. Started Self Challenge

February23: Made Jason a white cake with green sugar

February 25: Got laptop to work @ Crossroads!

February 27: Anzi Pizza and CVS candy

Februray 28: Concord library (Hannah Montana!). Part of Appaloosa

There was a lot of eating happening last February it seems…and…the whole Self Challenge ended pretty much when it began…

For a link to January’s and a little more about this little “project” of mine, go here

Posted on: February 3, 2010

To try: Visual Poetry, Found Poetry, and Spoken Word Poetry? (this would be really good for the whole recording thing…)

Posted on: February 2, 2010

Sometimes I feel like I am adrift out here, maybe even more so than back when I was sitting on my floor, leaning against my bed, staring at myself in floor length mirror of my closet door reading poem after poem to myself. I used to think that was where I isolated. I just knew that one day my words would reach ears, eyes, other than mine. And I just knew it would be different when that happened. So now, I have what you could is an imaginably large opportunity for audience. But now, I feel adrift, I think I’ve thrown my words out so quickly to be available that I haven’t spent as much time with them. I haven’t held them in my hands, I haven’t spoke them out loud to myself. I have wanted them to do something all around me, and in turn, I have waited hungrily and impatiently, so easily discouraged, completely insatiable, and feeling so much more adrift because I kept waiting for someone, for lots of someones, to anchor to me, to my words…when before, I anchored my words. I dreamed of them mattering beyond me, but that they mattered to me was enough. I don’t think I’ve been spending enough time with my words. I spend a good amount of time throwing them out and waiting, wanting…but not enough time just me and my words, loving them…I’m not completely sure how to remedy this.

Blogging is so much better for me in regards to organization. I guess it’s more that I need to adjust how I approach it all…not that I spend a lot of time networking for people to read me, but I have a little nagging thing inside that…just messes with me…I have no need to make this private…I only know of maybe 3 people who read it regularly, and I like just being out there. I know I just contradicted myself….I like being out there, I don’t like waiting out there…so I have to stop waiting and just enjoy being…