A Scattering of Blossoms

my son in haiku-
pretty easy to sum up
look, i'll do it now:

he's so freaking cute
i cannot resist those cheeks
i have to chub them

but now more effort
to fall in line with the art
of old school haiku:

the moon sees herself
reflected in the still pool:
your cheek to my breast

cherry blossom sweet
your breath warm against my skin:
the days find balance

Bedtime Battles

First of all, I want to share with you what it looks like in my work-space more often than not these days:

The Writer/Artist Mom at Work

(Actually to be completely honest he's more often in his swing, watching me with interest.  But sometimes this happens, and it's pretty damn sweet.)

Anyway.

I promised a follow-up on the whole sleeping-in-separate-rooms thing, and I'm pleased to report that I owe myself five bucks.  By which I mean, I did not end up sleeping in the chair in his room.  Go me!

Here's what I did do:  I did put him to bed in his room, and I did go downstairs to journal and read my book (The Warded Man; Nathan recommended it to me and I'm enjoying the hell out of it.), and I did creep back upstairs to listen in on him (and also psycho-analyze the noises he was making: were they different than normal?  Were there more of them?  Fewer ? What could it all mean??).  After an undisclosed amount of time doing that, I got it together, got ready for bed, got into bed, and then... I did not sleep.  I lay there, staring into the darkness and strongly considering getting one of my stuffed animals out to snuggle with (Nathan doesn't come to bed until the wee hours of the morning, and I needed some comforting).  I tried counting my breaths (usually an extremely effective sleep-aid for me) but then for some reason my brain decided it would be a way better idea to suddenly flash to all the potential monsters that could be inside my son's closet, waiting to loom out over him.

Yes, literally.

So that didn't help with the whole going-to-sleep thing, but I did eventually drop off sometime before midnight, which I know because it was not long after midnight that he woke me for the first time.  I got up and went to him then, and again around 0400, and it all went quite smoothly and well, and while the chair was, in fact, comfortable as hell, I didn't actually let myself drift off while clutching him.  (and for the record, no monsters appeared during either feeding session)

I'm sure tonight will be easier on my heart, and hopefully tomorrow will be easier still, until at last I can drop off to sleep like a normal adult once more.

(...but I might just set up moster-wards, just in case...)

Room for Improvement

I moved Neeps's bed into "his room" today.  (Hmm, maybe I shouldn't be putting quotations around that?)  It made my heart hurt a little to do it, but damn it, it's time.  Most nights he only wakes twice, and that second time is less because he's actually hungry and more because he wants to make noise and see what it gets him.  And right now what it gets him is slapped on the boob for the two minutes it takes him to fall back asleep, because I'm awake anyway and damn it I don't want to be (if I don't give him the boob he keeps being raucous for a good 15-20 minutes.  So far I haven't lasted longer than that in my desperation to reclaim sweet slumber for myself).

So. Here's hoping that having him all the way across the hallway will make it a little bit easier to ignore that second "Hey!  Who's up?" waking.

Or maybe I'll just lay awake all night because I can't hear him shifting and grunting in his sleep.  We'll see!  Parenting (my version of it, anyway) is all about making plans and then being okay with reality in no way whatsoever resembling them.  For instance!  Here is the Theoretical Schedule for today:

0700 wake/feed
0900 nap
1000 wake/feed
1230 nap
1400 wake/feed
1630 nap
1800 wake/feed
2030 start bedtime routine
2100 bed

Look at how nice and neat that is!  Just lovely.  And it's based on his previously demonstrated habits, too!  What a clever parent I am.

Except, here's how today's schedule has actually looked:

0715 wake/feed (awesome!  Doing great!)
0900 nap (like friggin' clockwork, baby!)
0930 wake (wait, what?  No!)
0957 feed (because I was trying to get him to wait until 1000, because I still had delusions of Schedule at this point)
1134 feed (okay, I guess?  I mean, we're not scheduled to nap for another hour, so may as well...)
1145 nap (damn it.  Okay, fine.  I'll work on rearranging furniture.)
1220 wake (double damn it.  Hold on, furniture.)
1310 nap (but only because I've strapped him on and taken him for a walk.)
1330 wake (yep, you guessed it: done with the walk)
1345 feed (it's been two hours, and that seems to be the theme for today)
1505 nap (woo, Nathan's home!  He can help me rearrange-)
1535 wake (damn it all to hell!)
1550 fed (oh yeah, two hours.  Stupid growth spurts.)
1630 nap (...are we... back on schedule?  Holy shit.  Holy shit, you guys.  Holy shit.)

It's 1730 now, and I glanced over at him just in time to see him do the sweetest little sleep-smile, which of course I reflexively returned.  Adorable little bastard.  We'll try again tomorrow.

(stay tuned for the sure-to-be-thrilling account of how our first separate night goes.  Five bucks says I end up sleeping in the chair next to him...) (see, it's a good bet because if I lose, I win!)

Beyond Babysitting

You guys remember The Babysitter's Club books, right?  Sure you do.  Well for some reason or another, they came back on my radar earlier this week, and I may or may not have been spending an unhealthy amount of time reminiscing on them.  Up to an including considering the question, "Where would they be now?"*  It was a fun mental exercise, and I figured I'd share the results here.  Weigh in with your own opinions, because I'm sure I'm not the first to think about it...

*(Look, these girls were 13 for over a decade, so when I'm picturing them "now", I'm specifically picturing them at my age, which is mid-thirties.  And I'm only doing the four original members, because it's late and I need to get to bed!)

Kristy Thomas: Kristy went to school on a softball scholarship, and majored in business.  She worked at the campus gym for spending money, and after graduation started doing personal training while she tried to figure out what she really wanted to do with her life.  She got in early on the whole Crossfit craze, and eventually moved back to Stonybrook to open up a highly successful box.  In doing so she had one of her Great Ideas, and runs an amazing "Active After-School!" program for kids out of it.  She's super involved in her community, part of just about every committee you can imagine, and has been volunteering in local government for the past five years or so- she's willing tackle anything that doesn't require her to change out of her ever-present athletic wear.  She recently married a man every bit as athletic as she is (but a little more laid back), and they've been talking about adopting.

Claudia Kishi: after high school Claudia moved to Japan for a few years, to teach English and reconnect with her heritage. While there she got very involved in Harijuku street fashion, and learned how to sew. Once she returned to the states, she lived with Stacey in New York for a while, making ends meet working as a wardrobe stylist for an edgy teen drama.  She started blogging about her own outfits and street fashion in general (thank goodness for spell-check), and before long the blog became so ludicrously popular that she was able to quit her day job and focus full-time on blogging and her art.  She moved back to Japan a few years ago, where she lives with her long-time boyfriend and girlfriend, and acts as a mentor to several up-and-coming artists.

Mary Anne Spier: Despite her father's objections, Mary Anne followed her dream of moving to New York City after graduation, where she roomed with Stacey at University freshman year, intending to study Early Childhood Education.  Mary Anne blossomed in the college environment, finding her confidence and coming into her own as a young woman.  She got involved with theater, primarily backstage, but one of her most cherished memories is the time she actually did perform a small- but speaking!- role in a friend's senior production.  During her sophomore year she switched into the pre-med program, with an eye to becoming a pediatrician.  She met her future husband while in med school in Seattle; they married after graduation and he followed her to her residency, and eventually back to New York when she accepted a position in the city.  He is the stay-at-home parent to their two children, aged two and five.  She's pregnant with a third, which they plan on being their last.

Stacey McGill: Stacey returned to New York to double-major in communications and finance, with the intention of working in fashion journalism (the finance was just an easy backup plan).  As it turned out, she found herself far more interested in the finance classes, and began to turn her thoughts to a career on Wall Street.  That once again became the backup plan, however, when she was scouted her sophomore year, and dropped out to work as a model for about five years.  She returned to school, finished her degree, and went to work for a major investment firm.  Over the past ten years she has risen through the ranks and now makes more money than she knows what to do with.  She married in her late twenties, but they divorced quickly, since Stacey turned out to be just as much a work-a-holic as her dad.  She hasn't been able to bring herself to attempt to settle down since, but never lacks for companionship.  She takes frequent trips to Japan to visit Claudia, and acts as an aunt to Mary Anne's children.

Four for a Boy

I'm working on a couple of longer blog entries (both of which also have to do with Very Strong Feelings) but I thought I'd take a break from all that intensity to share some more of what I've been doing on the visual-arts front:

Really it's amazing how much art and writing can be squeezed in when you're not at an office 40 hours a week.

These little guys are part of a series I'm doing (hah!  Series!  Pretentious Art Major alert!) for Neeps's monthly portraits.  I may scan and post them properly once they're all done, which hopefully will be before I go back to work in March.  I'm trying not to have any illusions about "free time" once that happens, and I really would like to manage a coherent twelve-portrait-collection.

I've also been noodling around with a children's book idea, and I've been using these as a way to sort of play with a style that appeals to kids.  Big eyes and pretty colors- really you can't go wrong if you include those things, right?  I haven't gotten to the illustrative part of that project yet, but once I do (if I do?  ::sigh::) I'm sure I'll be sharing more process on here.

Where is My Spoonful of Sugar?

I had a horrific nightmare last night.  I wish I could say it was the worst I've had in years, but it's more like it was the worst I've had in weeks.  And as you might expect, they've all featured my newest, greatest fear: that of Neeps dying- specifically through some fault of my own.

So I wake up from this most recent nightmare (in which I was screaming because you can't be in that much emotional pain and not let some of it out) to the darkness of my bedroom, with my husband sleeping on one side of me and my son grunting away fitfully on the other: both safe, both breathing, both fine.  And yet I can't escape the emotional impact of that dream; it's crushing my chest like a physical weight, squeezing tears from the corners of my eyes.  And the thought falls over me like a heavy blanket that I can't fight my way free of;

What's the point of loving anything, when it makes you so vulnerable to suffering?

Now, this is not exactly a new thought in the life of O, but it's the first time it's descended so forcefully in well over a decade.  It's something I'd thought I'd put to rest- but now the stakes are so much higher.  I do eventually manage to go back to sleep, but when I wake up for the day, the gray blanket is still there.

It's no surprise, really.  I could feel Depression creeping up this past week, in fact it officially Arrived yesterday, but I was so exhausted that I didn't take any of my Preventative Measures.  I didn't want to.  I didn't care.  The tiny voice in the back of my head had been saying for a few days, "If you don't take your medicine (ie, physical activity and outdoor time) you're going to get sick," but I had been ignoring it.  And so now, today, as I wandered around alternating between devastated and deadened, that voice got a little sterner and said, "If you don't take your medicine, you're not going to get better."  And also Nathan noticed my mood and stepped in.

Thus, full of numbness (expect for the part that was full of resentment) I did my fucking yoga.  I ate my fucking breakfast.  I took a fucking shower.  I took a gods damned walk.  I didn't allow myself to dwell on the fact that I've trapped myself well and proper by bringing a helpless infant into the world.  An infant who will cut my heart out by dying young, or whose heart I will cut out by doing the same.  An infant I will fail over and over again, especially if I can't even be trusted to do the things I need to do to stay healthy.

No, I was obviously very successful in not allowing myself to dwell on anything like that.

The thing is, I really do feel better.  Not good, but better.  And I know it's because my "medicine" is working.  And I know that, in a day or two, it will pass, and I won't really even remember it being bad at all.  I'll think that I can surely take a couple days off from healthy habits.

But I can't.

Eurissa of Barsin

In one of her costumes of state.  Because fiddly little bits are fun, and so is ceremonial makeup.

Imagine just a ridiculous amount of gold leaf and emeralds.