by definition
I went to my first proper yoga class today, since Nugget was born. My last class was exactly 2 days before he made his grande entrance. I frantically tried to practice at home, on my own, a few times, but I don’t have the self discipline to really do so. The class setting gives me proper practice, keeps my mind from wandering, keeps me from constantly wondering about my alignment, etc, because there’s an instructor there to keep an eye out for any major issues.
My going to a yoga class again really feels like it marks a beginning of some sort. As I’d mentioned in the previous post, it wasn’t really until about a month or so ago that it began to sink in just how much had happened over the last year and the toll it had taken. Physically and emotionally. A lot of it has sooooo much to do with the fact that I’ve been pretty isolated & alone the past year and a half, another thing Mr Nikki & I are just realizing. He was home this entire weekend and we went to Green Lake for a 3 mile walk both days. By Sunday, I was feeling wound up and out of sorts about the days. It’s going to be a bit of a process, letting the dust settle, learning to have him around and especially, for me, feeling a sense of permanence and “settled-ness” in this house. It’s not something I’ve really had for the past decade and my body is always primed to get up and go. I often look at the back yard and feel rushed to fix it up, then have to remind myself, “I have plenty of time. We aren’t leaving here any time soon.”
On Nugget’s part, he couldn’t be any easier going or amicable. Ever babysitter we’ve had, through the subsidized service, has gone on and on and on about how easy & cheerful he is. The sitters we’ve had regularly have said that he’s their favorite (and, might I add, the cutest. He really is.) The kid doesn’t cry unless he’s tired. He’s great at amusing himself – we’ve gotten him a walker and he will happily cruise around the house for HOURS.
Now I’m trying to kick start myself towards getting in better shape for October. I want to look & feel as good as possible in Spain. It’s a goal. I find that Nugget is the best motivation I’ve ever had for being active – I don’t want him to be stuck inside all day, any day. I want to be able to keep up with him on a bicycle & hikes. I want to set a good example, in terms of outdoor activity simply being a part of life.
So yes. I’ve started yoga again today. There’s a fabulous new studio that just opened up, within miles of our house and while they have the standard 6 am classes, they also have a couple of 7 am which I can absolutely shoot for. 6 am is pushing it. I’ve never been the kind of person that does “me time” or feels justified in doing so, and I always roll my eyes when people say things to me about taking time to take care of myself. But sitting there at the beginning of practice, eyes closed and doing the Ujjayi breathing, I consciously thought about the fact that I was doing this for me and this was my time, and I actually got a little choked up. Then I thought, wow, well, that just goes to show how much I needed this. The hour and a half of intense flow in a warm room on a hot day was pretty freakin’ brutal, I’ll admit. But the kind of brutal where I can’t wait to go back and make it not so brutal.
She repeated something a few times throughout the hour and a half that really resonated with me. “Be a witness, not a judge.” She said this in reference to noticing the aches & pains in our bodies and how flexible (or not) we might be right now. Notice it, don’t let your ego get in the way, don’t push yourself or punish yourself for not going as far as you’d like or think you should. That’s something I’ve always had a problem with, in all areas of life. So I’ve written that down & am trying to keep it in mind. Be a witness, not a judge. It also occurred to me that it will be a great mantra to carry with me into my Postpartum Doula practice, both to tell new mothers and for myself to keep in mind while offering help.
Even though, in many ways, I feel like like I’ve moved seamlessly into the role of “mother”, there are some things that have been huge sticking points for me – and, again, part of the reason it’s been so hard this past year. I have always been defined by my flightiness, my impulsiveness, my neurosis, my desire & ability to get up and go at any moment. Often times, I felt defined by all my darker points and wondered who the hell would I be without them? I still need to learn to define myself without the negatives, to focus on the positives, and find new ways to channel my get up and go-ness. Some things, like the travel, cannot be renegotiated. Now that Mr Nikki’s project is over (well, this one, anyway – but the future ones won’t be as bad) and he’s “Director” now, that means more money and more vacation time. We’ve talked a lot about how to work travel into our lives. We’ll be able to fit in a couple big trips each year (I’ve been eyeing up Queensland since seeing the photos of a friend’s trip and Iceland is still at the top). Vancouver is a couple hours away and we loved it so much we plan on going up once a month. It’s worth a day trip, and we also have friends there who we can crash with AND who said that we’re welcome to stay whenever they go out of town (and we’re doing a vice versa, as they love Seattle.) I really need to write an entire post on Vancouver one of these days. Our first glimpse of the skyline got an awestruck, “Jesus!” out of both of us, at the same time. Mr Nikki described it as “Tokyo meets Berlin”. I’ll wait for the post to explain that.
only the lonely
There’s been a lot about the rising number of only children in the news lately. It amuses me to see that it’s big news and that everyone thinks they’re an expert on only children now. Let me tell you – being an only child during a time when the number of only children I’ve met can be counted on one hand versus being an only child now, among a whole gaggle of them who are only in the toddler phase yet, is a whole other game.
Mr Nikki is an only child and I’m an only child. Once upon a time, when I was little, I wanted an older brother. I wanted siblings because everyone I knew had siblings. When I got older, I didn’t care – I was happy being an only and I think it had a lot to do with who I am today.
It was very, very rare to meet another only my age. When I did, there was a spark of recognition. We got it. We bonded. And we marveled at the fact that it always seemed that only children were more independent and usually lived far from their parents at some point in their lives. Only children tend to go explore the unknown, to travel. You can usually count on only children to be highly creative, as well.
The only children of today? I’m not so sure all those traits will hold. How independent & creative can you be when you’re just part of a larger mass?
Harumph. I kind of resent the growing popularity of only children.
Anyway. Most of the articles I read cite the economic climate as the reason for so many Onlies. I think they’re missing a huge factor – I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that people are waiting so long to have children, and that some people have to try so hard & spend so much money to get ONE that by the time they’ve had the one, they don’t think they can do it again, or they don’t have the money to try again, or they just feel too exhausted by the process.
Kids don’t need siblings. Siblings can be nice, sometimes – but for as many as I know who adore & get along with theirs, just as many are not on good terms.
When I was still on a hormone high and thinking about how much I loved being pregnant & even giving birth (yes, I actually, thoroughly enjoyed that part), I thought we’d have a second. I WANTED a second. Now that the dust has finally started to settle, I’m over the idea.
A friend of mine, who hopes to have kids eventually, said to me that she hoped it would be half as easy for her as it was for me. The whole thing, not just the birth part. After I finished laughing, I apologized for making her think it was all easy. I was determined, yes, and I stuck to my guns, loudly. The birth itself was “easy” because I worked really, really hard at making it so. Mentally & physically.
Everything after that? It’s not really until now that we’ve realized just how hard it all was and what a very, very dark period the past half year had been.
We moved with a 5 week old. A big move. We lived in corporate housing and had to run around looking at houses so that we could purchase & move in before the paid corp housing ran out. My husband was home for a week, after he was born, then had to deal with the added pressures of the end of a project* while people were freaking out about him leaving before the end of it. Then he had two weeks off in between jobs and then had the added stress of acclimating to a new job right smack in the middle of crunch time, with more responsibility than he’s ever had before. I was freaking out & miserable, with a baby who never napped, but didn’t feel that I could lean on him because I was fully aware of the pressure he was under. The resentment & stress sent us into a fast, deep downward spiral that we’re just finally acknowledging and climbing out of.
I’ll tell you right now – there is no greater stress than moving, with a newborn, buying a house & starting a new job all at once. Ah, and the breastfeeding troubles on top of it all. It’s no wonder that never worked out. I spent months in a fog, though I never spoke about it or was even that aware of it.
So no, no it wasn’t easy. But we did the best we could, put our heads down and just barreled through.
It was so hard that I absolutely not want to do it again. Not alone. I told my parents that if they move out here (as they keep talking about), I would consider it. Otherwise, absolutely not. Considering the circumstances of the past year, I know that it can’t possibly be any worse or harder than it was. But it’s still made me skittish. We’re starting to enjoy life again. We’re starting to not be quite so tired. We’re starting to get to know each other again and just relax. And we finally get to travel abroad – something that is so integral to who I am as a person. I really don’t want to go backwards.
Quite honestly, I’m thrilled to devote all my love & attention to Nugget. He’s an incredible little person. He’s my little mama’s boy who I hope will want to run off & explore the world as soon as he’s able. I’ll not be one of those mothers who wants him to stay close. I’d love if he wanted to be an exchange student in high school. I’d love if he ran off to a foreign country to live & study when he’s college age and above.
Being the only child of two only children, I suspect, will form him into the old school breed of Only Child and not this popular new brand. Which means he might just do all that.
*If you know anything about the video game industry, you know that it’s not something you actually want your husband to do. The schedule & work is INSANE.
Filed under Seattle, Tattooed Mom, Travels | Comment (0)*crickets*
It’s summer. Summer means all quiet on the blog front. There’s a lot going on here, and yet there’s not that much. I’ve had a bit of freelance work coming in the past couple weeks with the promise of more. We’ll see – the person who promises it has a tendency to tell me about all the work or potential contracts coming up that don’t always come to fruition. She just likes to make sure they have me lined up, just in case. Honestly? I kinda don’t want to work, my heart isn’t in all the technology stuff anymore – well, that and there’s other things I’d rather be doing. But I also kind of want to, because it would mean a nice chunk of weekly or bi-weekly change with which I could do many, many things. Buy stuff for the house. Buy stuff at Anthropologie. Pay for yoga, groceries, etc. Buy presents for Mr Nikki. Granted, I can do all these things now, but it’d be nice to, say, buy something nice for Mr Nikki with NOT “his money.” You know what I mean. We really aren’t hurting for money, but it’s always nice to be able to save more. Or to splurge on $300 shoes without feeling guilty.
I’ve been trying to focus on preparing for the post partum Doula certification, but before I can even take the week long class, I have to read three books. (In order to be certified with DONA, that is.) Ok, so… summertime and having an 8 month old. Do you know how hard it is to read ONE book?) I’m motivated, though, because one of my neighbors is getting her childbirth education certification and she’d like to have me on her list of resources (as a pp Doula.)
I’ve been really busy helping other people find home birth midwives, also, which is actually really cool. I’ve become the go-to person among friends and people who know me. The mother-to-be of one of my friends wrote me asking if I knew of any resources in PA for home birth, because she was told they were hard to find. Well, they’re just kind of underground, but there are LOTS of them. I discovered that I have a lot of connections & resources and I sent her a looooong list of options. It made my day when she said she went from feeling hopeless & resigned to working within the hospital system, to “crying tears of joy” and feeling positive about finding someone who’d attend her home birth.
I’m also busy planning our “belated wedding reception” in October. (We’re going to visit my parents, take over my mom’s annual Fall Fest for the reception, then take off to Basque & Holland for a week.) My mom had been asking what I wanted at this reception thing, and originally, I’d had the attitude of, “Whatever. It’s mostly for Mr Nikki & my parents.” But the more I’ve been thinking about it, and the more I’ve been thinking about the major issues I have with my extended family, the more I’ve decided I DO care. I told Mr Nikki that I’ve decided this is going to be like my coming out party – errr, not in that way, but you know what I mean. Instead of arranging everything around what my father’s family will like and worrying about what they think, I’m doing it the way *I* want it, and creating something that represents who Mr Nikki & I are.
What does that mean? Well, for starters, it means no one is allowed to bring any of their own home made stuff (I’ve never been all that impressed with their Cool Whip concoctions and hello… COOL WHIP. YUCK.) It means my mother will not be making two versions of everything – one with normal ingredients and one with “no carb” pasta. Again, ew. It means that Mr Nikki & I will be going out the day before to buy lots of Spanish & Portuguese wines (in honor of our trip) and decadent, good quality, flavorful cheeses. I’m going to make some easy, quick appetizers with in season, local ingredients. My friend, J, will be making chili (she’s a serious cook & more hardcore about the organic/local thing than I am) with grassfed beef. She’ll be picking up the beef at the farm she goes to for all their meats & picking up some local cheese, as well. Her husband, who is a pastry chef, will be making cupcakes for us – including some with salted caramel icing. This, my friends, is going to be a foodie Fall Fest extraordinaire. I’m picking up coffee from our favorite roaster & coffee shop in said hometown, and Mr Nikki will pick out some good beers. No one is drinking Budweiser and Pabst that evening. M’kay? There will be no low fat, no carb, processed anything.
I realized that it A) won’t be only my Dad’s family there B) it ain’t for them and C) These people have never had any clue who I really am, nor do most of them care all that much and I’m kind of done trying to be part of it all again. It’s really important to me to have as many friends there as possible, to make the evening a celebration with people I like, so there you go.
And Nugget? Oh my god, Nugget. When did he turn into an actual person? As in, a little boy type of person? We have a couple of regular babysitters and a couple different girls came by when I had to use Mr Nikki’s companies subsidized care option. (It’s a sweet deal. $4/hr for in-home care. We get 100/hours per year.) Every single one has fallen madly in love with my little man and said that he’s their favorite kid to watch, because he’s so easy going, so happy and well behaved, so charming and so freakin’ cute. (So cute, in fact, that one of my favorite local artist, a woman who makes some kick ass kids’ clothing from recycled clothes, is using him as one of the kids in her next photo shoot!)
Filed under Food, Seattle, Tattooed Mom | Comment (0)bang! bang!: one of the most inane posts I’ll ever write
This is a perpetual, vicious cycle that I know many of you can relate to. For the past month, I’ve been trying to make a decision and going back and forth so much it’s maddening.
I was determined to let my bangs grow out again, right? RIGHT? I swore I would! But I even told my hair stylist when I went in last time to have them trimmed & shaped for growing out that I’d probably be back in a month to have them lopped off again.
I was so close, too, when Felix was born. They were almost grown out. Then I had some kind of hormonal spazz attack and went out a few weeks after he was born, to have them cut shorter than I ever have. And oh, did I regret it.
But I have decided that I happen to rock bangs – and they’re great for hiding behind when you’re an exhausted parent. I fantasize about our trip to Basque every single day and my imagining involves me in lots of cute, black clothing and maybe using the word “sling-back” while packing, strolling down alleys with a cute scarf, long dark hair and chic European girl bangs. Can you see it?
(It’s true, every decision I’ve made the past couple weeks has been made with Basque in mind. Every time I buy something, “will this be a cute shirt to wear while inhaling tapas?”)
I’ve dug through all my old photos to build my case. By the time I’d moved to Prague, in 2004, my bangs were completely grown out and my hair was down past the middle of my back. (I’m amazed when I see these photos now… why the f*ck did I cut it? The Czech hair stylist was terrified to do so – I went from middle of my back to just below ears. She asked if I was sure for half an hour. But I’d had short, short hair from 14 up till I grew it out this time.)
Anyway. I decided that the no-bangs thing looked really hot on me. At the time. When I was at my most svelt – thanks to a regime all-weekend long dancing, copious amounts of ecstasy, Tullamore Dew, coffee, a toxic relationship, bipolar-ness, and, finally, weeks of hiking up and down Lisbon’s streets. (The tilted streets of Lisbon put San Francisco to shame.) I would love to get back to that shape again, but obviously, doing lots of drugs is out of the question. I wonder if lots of walking & power yoga can elicit similar results? Something tells me no. But I can try!
But I’ve recovered lots of pictures from before my bangs had grown out & my hair was long, and after I’d had my bangs AND my hair cut and I think I’ve come up with a convincing argument. Behold, the chameleon that is me:
This was my, “OH MY GOD, I DIDN’T APPRECIATE HOW SVELTE I WAS!” moment.
This was right after I got my hair cut, in Prague. I should hate this picture – I look like a dork and I always think someone is going to look at this and think, “mullet.” But I remember this hair & I loved it & I love the bangs. My favorite thing was that this always looked best when I slept in & slept on it. And that’s always my goal – not having to get up early to wash my hair.
Same deal. Mr Nikki’s first comment to me, upon seeing a photo (cause we met online, ya know) was to tell me that I had a “striking jaw line.” Well, it was certainly a unique compliment.
Bangs!
This is not a good picture. I had no makeup on and no sleep. (Amsterdam, 30th birthday.) Oh, and I think I’d probably been crying a lot & was pissed off since that’s mostly what I did when my ex was around. But it’s the same cut as the first. And I like my bangs.
Me & Poseidon in ‘dam!
I am making the best.face.ever here. But look at my cute bangs! This was shortly before I left Prague. I’m hanging out at Vitkov.
It’s true. I do love nerds. I loved this hair. This was Portugal.
Oh, wait, no – I loved THIS hair. This is my favorite, ever. This was BEFORE I left Philadelphia to go to Prague. You see? Why the hell did I cut it?
Wheeee! Portugal. I think I’m smiling because I had great hair.
Wisconsin, a couple years ago. See? Still rockin’ the bangs.
No makeup! I can’t decide if I look 12 or much older than I really am?
Oh, yeah. I loved this hair, too.
Portugal! Happy about my fabulous hair!
Prague. Wondering why the hell I cut my hair. But at least my bangs are cute.
This was Prague, before I went and cut it all off. It was so cute! Why, oh why!
Oh. There’s no bangs here. But I posted so many dorky photos of me I felt compelled to balance it out with a couple where I actually look GOOD.
I loved this hair, too. I got compliments on this. This is what I’m going for again.
Oh, so sexy, no? But see… BANGS!
Another of the previous haircut. BANGS! My case is made. In all my favorite photos of myself, I have BANGS. So I feel justified in getting them chopped tomorrow.
it’s that time of year again…
… when blogs go silent & the number of daily readers plummets. I am obviously no exception.
I’m busy running around to farmers markets, collecting pick ups at my CSA*, walking, finishing the house & plotting our belated honeymoon. Which, by the way, we’ve finally come to an absolute conclusion. I’m a little bummed about giving up Iceland on this trip – though, I came up with that idea while we were stuck in constant sunshine. Iceland isn’t forgotten, just on the back burner. I found out that we have more time than we thought, so we’re going to do our foodie Basque Country trip (complete with a stay in a medieval fortress cum luxury hotel across the water from beaches of France) and a couple days in Holland. That way, I’ll get to see Lynn again – something I was hugely looking forward to – and we’ll get our Holland fix. This trip will be hugely different from all our others – we’re looking forward to seeing different parts of Holland (a train ride or two here and there) and POSSIBLY – Mr Nikki was talking about taking the train to Belgium for a half a day.
In JANUARY, it sounds like we’ll finally be heading to Boston for a long weekend or so. The college that Mr Nikki went to has been asking him to speak again, about audio in the video game industry. I’m looking forward to it because I’ll be able to A) wander Boston, as we both love Boston B) see my friend, Maria C) meet up with Sarah and Sarah (I hope. I think. Assuming they want to meet up with me, that is!)
This past weekend, I picked up my first farm share (CSA) and holy crap. I had no idea. Not only do I get a weekly box of whatever they’ve harvested, there’s a pretty big field of greens & a large herb garden. You go out into the field with a pair of scissors & cut whatever greens you want. This week I got lots of kale, some collards, and some vita greens (I’ve never heard of these before & am eager to experiment.) Those aren’t the only greens available, just what I took this week. And I learned a good trick – since they ask you to cut the leaves with a long stem, from the outside in, when you come home, put your greens in a glass of water (or vase, as I did.) They’ll keep longer that way. Plus, it’s kind of a cute bouquet that I have now, on my windowsill. After the greens, I went into the herb garden and, feeling overwhelmed with possibilities, I only took some chocolate mint, basil & thyme. Next week I plan on bringing a small container with me, just for the herbs & cutting lots of fresh chives. I was afraid it would all get lost in my bag o’ greens.
Then I got the greatest news ever, something I was unaware of when I chose to join this CSA. They also offer a fruit share, for another $30/week, but I opted not to do this – I’ll get my fruit at the farmers markets. However, in August, there will be a giant field full of blackberries & raspberries, which are available to everyone in the CSA as a “u-pick” option. No extra cost. This alone is worth the CSA. You know how much raspberries cost, right? I LOVE raspberries. Granted, it’s on the honor system and they ask that you not rape & pillage the berries, but I can get a good weekly supply, and then still buy a huge flat or two at the farmer’s market for freezing/canning.
Best of all, Nugget goes with me on these weekly trips, to pick our own greens. I am so happy that he’s getting so much exposure to all of this – the farmers markets, trips to farms to pick vegetables, seeing the actual goats that supply his milk – from the word go. I can’t wait till he’s old enough to help me cut the greens & pick the berries, himself.
(Speaking of milk, a little experiment was done on calves – pasteurized milk versus raw milk. Granted, I’m sure raw milk opponents will cry out about this not being the most perfect of scientific experiments, but the results are still rather telling. Glad my little Nugget has never had so much as a drop of pasteurized milk. That stuff doesn’t enter this house.)
Lastly – I’ve always had sleep problems, as you’ve probably heard me say one and a half billion times, already. It’s been particularly horrific this past couple weeks, as Nugget is teething (or appears to be.) I have a hard time falling asleep, then I can’t stay asleep, then he wakes me up a hundred times each night – he even woke up every two hours a few days ago.
Chamomile tea used to work really well on him, but not so much now that he’s bigger. I am completely & utterly against things like orajel, for obvious (I think) reasons. Also not a big fan of any type of OTC infant drugs. I was trying to imagine the kind of pain he might be having (and trying to come up with ways to get through this, as we were EXHAUSTED) and I remembered when I had my wisdom teeth pulled. I got something called “dry socket” – it’s when the holes left by the teeth don’t automatically fill over and you have gaping holes in your mouth with exposed nerves. They didn’t warn me about this ahead of time, so I went for two days with excruciating pain, thinking this might be normal. By the third day, I was starving because I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep, because it hurt so badly, and I could barely talk. I decided this was NOT normal, and called the dentist. They told me I should have called immediately, because this dry socket thing is rare, but happens, and you need to take care of it.
I was in tears, truly. It’s god awful. I went to the dentist, and he shoved two huge squares of gauze, soaked in clove oil, into the holes & promised that the pain would be gone within minutes. I doubted it, because it hurt too much. However, I felt absolutely no pain withing 5 minutes & ate everything in sight. Clove oil, it turns out, has been used since the beginning of time in dentistry & for help with oral pain. So I thought, well, can you use it on babies? Why not? I find it strange that, if you google something about “teething pain,” nothing about clove oil comes up. But I went to an herbalist and found out that it is, indeed, a great remedy. About 3-4 drops in a tablespoon of carrier oil – such as olive oil (since the odds of him being allergic to olive oil are slim to none), dip your finger in it and rub it along his gums. Voila! Also, bathing in chamomile water – absorbs more readily than the small amount I’d give him to drink.
As for me, I was given a “sleep well blend” tincture, that consisted of passionflower, skullcap, and valerian. This is supposed to help you fall asleep – it tastes god awful, but tinctures are far more potent & faster acting than capsules or tea. So help me god, it actually works. There was a noticeable different the past few nights, in terms of not laying awake all night, staring at the ceiling.
For the problem of not staying asleep, they suggested nutmeg. You take a whole nutmeg, grate about 3/4 teaspoon (it has to be freshly grated) into warm milk or some such (you can add honey, too, if you’d like) and drink about an hour before bed time. Supposedly this will help you stay awake, or get right back to sleep if something wakes you up. Nugget woke up ONCE last night, around 5 am, and went right back to sleep until 8:30. I don’t remember waking up at all, before or after the 5 am wake up. This is completely unheard of, in my life. I’m going to try it again tonight, and if I stay asleep all night, again, I’m sold. I feel more well rested today than I have in almost a year. I am going to be a kick ass postpartum Doula, because I feel like I’m a wealth of information that people don’t really talk about or know of. Honestly, it was pretty fascinating, talking to the herbalists and I wonder… maybe that’s something I should get into, too. I already know quite a bit about it, already.
So that’s all my pre-summer stuff. Though I wish we could skip summer & get right to fall.
Filed under Birth Activism, Food, Seattle | Comments (2)