%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
|
Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland  Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find... "Curiouser and curiouser." Alice in Wonderland    |
| These last few weeks have been filled with tenuous moments, stress and strain. If I attempted to count the times I smiled, I would barely get through the fingers on one hand. Challenges may define us but they also can leave us feeling drained and tired. My patience has worn thin and as a result there have been far few moments of fun, even with an animated preschooler in our midst. Yesterday, I picked up Jaden from school, she had actually taken a nap at school for the first time in two years and she was fresh-faced and energized. Her wide smile and high-spirited cackle was infectious. On a whim I told her that night, since it was just she and I, we would have a dance party. Music and movement are two of Jaden's most favorite things and my sudden suggestion provoked happy cheers and clapping from my backseat companion. We breezed through dinner and shower time and as soon as Jaden was outfitted in her pink polka dot jammies, she brought me my ipod. "It's time to dance!" she announced. And dance we did. We danced with shaking hips and shoulder-shimmies, with whirling arms and twirling bodies. We sang along too loudly and invented new moves like the "shy ladybug gig". We jumped and rolled on the bed, and dipped and spun. I taught her "the Sprinkler" and every move I could remember from the Breakfast Club movie. My daughter was ecstatic and I was free, if only for the time, from all the worries and troubles that plagued me. There wasn't anything more I had to do right at that moment then take simple delight it watching my daughter getting groovy and loosing myself in her crazy, chaotic rhythms. All the mattered was having fun, making her laugh and holding her little body against mine, her little painted toes sweeping out in an arch as we rocketed around in a circle. The big dog, intrigued by our antics, pranced around us as if he were crashing our dance party too, making Jaden erupt into a fit of giggles. After the last song, we both jumped on the bed, breathing hard but smiling and feeling really very good. Never underestimate the joy of dancing in pajamas. |
| My daughter is growing into a little lady before my eyes. Every day she leaves more and more of the toddler world behind her and embraces more of those things that make her such an amazing, growing girl. She surprises me with the vastness of what she comprehends, how much she absorbs and perceives. Jaden is still not a big talker but when she does engage you in conversations, she is clear and detailed, showing an exceptional command of vocabulary. She has a great interest in words and in languages. We've had to move on to more complex stories. I am both amazed and delighted when she smiles at the end of book and I realize she's got the nuances of a story that I might have assumed was just a little too advanced. She doesn't talk much, but she listens intently. She may not always participate with her lessons but she retains and repeats the activities later. She remains very shy but she is not aloof. She may not want to be the center of attention but she wants to be an engaged observer and for now, I think that's fine. I don't see her being a wallflower for very long. There are moments when she seems to rebel against herself, singing and dancing in the aisles at home depot or dancing around and playing peekaboo at her piano teacher's house. Then, after a few minutes of letting loose, all willy-nilly, the seriousness comes back and she is once again her reserved and quiet self. She wants to be with me all the time. She readily wants to help me with whatever I am doing. Last night she washed the dishes with me, standing on a kitchen chair, her arms covered in suds to her elbows. I catch her mimicking my actions, the way I talk on the phone, the way I make the bed or talk to the dogs...even more subtle things like the way I brush my hair or the way I sit on the couch with my legs folded under me. My little mini-me but so much more. Jaden sings now a little louder each car ride, enjoying the sound of her own voice mixing with the rhythems she enjoys. She wants to show me her invented dance moves, predicating each one with "Mom, look what I can do..". Her play has become more intricate too. Her dolls now interact with each other, switching her voices to mimic conversations between them. She has left behind those flashing, talking toddler toys in favor of puzzles, barbie dolls and Legos. Her artwork has become thoughtful and deliberate, not the formless slash and dash of color it was before. She works to create something now, something recognizable if only to her. She will be four in January and I both fear and expect by that time she will no longer bear any resemblance to the toddler she was. On the rare occasion she raises her arms to me and asks me to pick her up, I heft her weight in my arms knowing sadly that all too soon this part of her and I will be passed. Soon she will want to walk everywhere and being carried will become a necessary annoyance rather than something she seeks. She will spend more and more of the each night in her own bed and there will be more mornings that I wake up alone, without her little leg thrown over my hip, or her tiny fingers wrapped around mine. I have loved watching her develop through these young years but it is bittersweet to leave them behind us. I will miss so much about this time but I know that I have so much more amazing moments in the years to come. I might not be completely ready to leave the toddler years behind, but Jaden seems to be racing forward. There are so many beautiful moments about motherhood but none more so than when she tells me she loves me, randomly without prompting, just because she feels it in her heart. Then, this weekend she told me that I was her best friend and I melted. And the truth is, that- wonderful-reason-for-living truth is, that she is mine too. |
| This morning I took my daughter to her first piano lesson. Actually, because she is still young, these are not formal lessons but rather a program for preschool aged children to give them exposure to the piano and music in general. In her typical fashion, Jaden remained very shy and withdrawn through the introductions, clinging to my skirt and hiding her face in my shoulder. The teacher is very patient however and she persisted despite the very limited responses from my daughter. The very friendly kitten managed to evoke more interest from my daughter than the teacher did. Eventually though, she invited Jaden to look at her piano, a big grand piano set in the corner of the room. Jaden's eyes lit up. With some prodding she slid onto the bench and balanced her toes on the edge of the footstool. Miss Linda began going through her "finger friends", cute kid-friendly animals that coincided to the fingers of her hands. She invited her to touch the keys with each of her finger friends. After a few long moments, she reached out one tentative pointer, and tapped the keys directly in front of her. Within seconds she was exploring the full range of keys, using all her fingers on both hands and smiling...broadly. She dropped her inhibitions and began responding to Miss Linda, not verbally yet, but with real attention. She was fully engaged and interested. She let the teacher trace her fingers onto a blank page and then connected each of her digits to the corresponding "finger friends". She played the hand games and exercises with Miss Linda and in between exercises, eagerly returned to the piano for more experimentation. At the end of our time we withdrew from the piano and Jaden seemed to retreat into her wall of shyness again. She did make eye contact with me and clearly nodded, "yes" when Miss Linda asked her if she wanted to come back next week. I was encouraged that my child, who normally takes a long, long time to warm up to strangers, was reacting and engaged with this woman in less than ten minutes. I credit the piano, and music in general. Since a very early age, Jaden has responded to music...all kinds. I would like to believe that music will be key to unlocking her shyness. It would be wonderful if musical exposure and eventually, formal instruction, give her the tools to build her confidence and break out of her shell. This has to be her decision though. It would be far to easier for me to fall in love with the image of my beautiful little girl sitting at a piano, her face serenely glowing as she plays. As much as I would love it, it needs to be something she falls in love with. And most importantly, something that she enjoys enough to allow it open the door for her. Music very clearly opens her heart and we are willing to encourage anything that does that for her. |
| This past week a friend from high school was killed in a car accident. Tracy and I had reconnected over the past two years, in a large part due to our twenty year reunion. Aided largely by Facebook, we kept contact after the event. After learning of her death, I've spent the last few days sifting through memories of her, remembering the person she was and counting the opportunities both shared and missed with her. She came to a candlelight party at my house where she mixed Rum and Cokes with my sister, her giddy laughter heard well above the din of the other ladies packed into my living room. Tracy repeatedly invited my family to events she thought my daughter would enjoy, like the Halloween party at her friend's horse barn. She always seemed to be liking and commenting on my pictures and posts. She was very kind and thoughtful..exactly the person I remembered from high school. Sometimes time does not change us but rather solidifies the good, genuine qualities we possess. She was one of those friends that appeared in your feeds on a regular basis even though the physical plans you might have had were very few and far between. She was present though, even if it was just a brief comment shared, sadly more one way than it should have been. This morning I got a reminder of her birthday...so very sad since tomorrow night I will be attending her call hours. Even more surreal, the invitation sitting in my event box to a multi-family yard sale she had organized this coming week, in preparation of her big move to Vegas. It hardly seems possible that this bubbly, friendly girl is gone, taken so unfairly before embarking on what promised to be an amazing new chapter in her life. Life is so precious...people say that but it really, truly is. Tomorrow night a group of us from high school have made plans to attend Tracy's service together. It is very poignant to find ourselves making plans to get together again over these circumstances, each of us thinking, "why haven't we done more to get together after our reunion like we said we would?" I feel the need, as I am sure they must, to make more effort in the future to spend time with these girls. These women are all remarkable women, women who are kind and genuine. They are more than just the faces of my youth, they are people I am both glad to know, and people I wish I knew better, just like Tracy. I think back to those invitations Tracy issued me, the ones I never took her up on and I am tragically sorry that I missed those moments to spend more time with her. In a recent email exchange, one of those girlfriends took the time to tell me that I was loved, that she was so happy we connected. It is so important to make time for things like that. Words and sentiments held back might never have a chance to be heard, to be received. Not one of us every knows how long we have and a tragedy like Tracy's untimely passing reminds us all of that ultimately truth. |
| My sweet Jadybug: This mother’s day I wanted to start a tradition. I decided that each mother’s day I would write you a special letter, one that you could save and hold always, words crafted just for you from the most special place in my heart. I will read them all to you until you can read them for yourself and I will save them all, so that one day you can have a collection of special letters from me to you that will stand as a testament of my love and the blessing that was being your Mommy. And so, here my beautiful baby girl is your very first Mother’s Day Letter. Jaden, you are blossoming, growing lovelier every day. I’m touched by what a nice, gentle friend you are, what a loving little girl you are to your family. I’m so proud of you, all the time, even when you challenge me with your new found defiance. You are fierce, you are brave but you are also thoughtful and full of grace. I love the way you listen to a song you like over and over again until you know it well enough to sing along to it on our car rides. I love the way you lean your body against mine when we read our bedtimes stories. I love the way you look when you are sleeping, those perfect, long lashes dark and soft like feathers against your cheek. When you are dreaming and you suddenly giggle and smile in your sleep, it touches a special part of my heart and I could soar with joy. Even when you cry those big, heartbroken tears I am captivated by how beautiful you are, how luminous those sea green eyes can be. I love our mornings when we wake up with smiles and laughter and have enough time to enjoy a long breakfast together. I love watching you help your Daddy in the yard, or simply just sharing space with him on the couch, just relaxing. I am so happy to hear your teachers talk about you becoming a classroom leader and how your thirst for knowledge inspires everyone around you. You are pensive and so intelligent. You never miss a thing, even at just 3 years old. Jaden, you are the best, most wonderful thing I have ever had a hand in creating and bringing you life will always be my great achievement just as being your Mommy is my greatest blessing. I love you. Love, Your Mommy |
| I dashed out today to go the bank and grab takeout for lunch and had an experience that I have not had for some time. She pulled in next to me in the lot in front of subway. I knew her immediately. As fate would have it, we shared a common destination and she ended up behind me at the subway counter. She watched me as I placed my order, I saw her studying my profile, trying to place my face. She started with small talk, asked me if I was on my lunch break. She flashed me her trademark grin when I nodded. Then came the inevitable, “ I know you…” she stated, considering my face again closer now. I waited. A few moments later, recognition flashed in her eyes. But before the realization fully dawned on her face, her features transformed into that look of sympathy that I was once so familiar with. Her grin melted into that same sad and knowing smile I had seen so often on the faces of his friends. She struggled to find the words, started and then stopped again. I threw her a lifeline. “Melissa” I tapped my own chest. “You helped Seth with his banking. It’s Pam, right? The two of you went to school together.” The truth was Pam had done a lot more for my ex then help him with his banking. She fought gallantly to try to keep him from going under in the ocean of his own rapidly accumulating debt. Later, towards the end, she also aided the family in obtaining the records they needed to set-up, transfer and dispense his estate prior to his passing. She had been a good friend to him. They had laughed a lot. Pam had really cared about him. She had left a warm and sweet message to his family on the page the funeral pallor had setup on their site for Seth. Pam grinned, but her eyes were tinged by sorrow. “He was such a great guy, so sad what happened. A long time ago huh?” “Seems like a lifetime ago,” and it was the most honest response I could muster. When I left with my sandwich, she touched my arm as I walked by, “Take care Melissa.” I knew Pam. I remembered her as I remembered all of Seth’s friends, and there were so many. He had a virtual army of kindhearted people who loved him, helped him, prayed for him and ultimately grieved for him…good people who touched my life briefly in another time, in another life. Just this morning I was watching my daughter run off smiling into the arms of her little friends and I thought, strangely enough, how different my life was now, how different of a person I am today. It is so easy to get swept up in the daily pulse of my life that I forget the places I traveled to, the people I shared that journey with. Then I have an encounter like I did today with Pam and I realize, it never really goes away. The past becomes part of your soul’s landscape forever and it’s a past you share with others. A past that comes with pain and heartache but also bright smiles, warm moments and laughter between old friends. As I walked away I knew with absolute certainty that Pam was remembering those same things now and it made her feel happy and sad all at the same time. I understood exactly how she was feeling. |
| Most mornings with my three year old are dominated by defiant stances in pink polka-dotted tights, barely eaten breakfasts and dramatic screams during hair-combing and styling sessions. Most mornings my little girl wakes with only one true desire…to challenge me at every turn. I battle over clothes, shoes, what can and can’t accompany her to school. She makes demands and launches sabotage attacks to delay our departure while I anxiously watch the clock. Somehow we manage to stumble out the door, both of us a little worse for wear than we should be. Most mornings. Oh… but then there comes that rare, blue moon of a morning where every moment seems as saturated by joy and mirth as any before. Jaden wakes up with smiles and kisses. She makes her way to the potty, kindly not throwing open my shower door but just waving at me through the glass, a blurry, happy vision in pink princess pajamas. She helps me feed the dogs, cleans up her books and toys, before I trip over them. She gladly accepts whatever outfit I have and dresses quickly instead of diving back beneath the covers to avoid me. She leans lovingly against me as I slip on her shoes. She even takes her drink cup downstairs and puts it in the sink for me without being asked. I make breakfast AND she eats it. We sit side by side, munching and talking and smiling, just me and my pint-sized buddy. The car ride is peaceful. The XM station crafted just for tykes like her delivers a steady stream of bouncy tunes and she sits, soundlessly singing in her dazzling purple diva sunglasses. When we arrive at the school and I reach in to help her out of her car seat, her little arms slip tightly about my neck, she presses her cheek to mine and I am suddenly and acutely saddened to part from her now. We walk hand in hand to her classroom. They are just starting to play dress-up and her friends all rush over to greet her. This morning she doesn’t cling, she doesn’t cry. She waves me off and joins her friends, digging into the wardrobe for something that sparkles and shines. Most mornings do not go this way…but today…this one did and I am immensely grateful. |
| The recent influx of warmer temps in the wake of last week’s snow storm has me craving the onset of Spring in the worst way. My daughter needs Spring, she’s busting at the seams to get back to the playground. Yesterday she was joyfully one-footing her Disney scooter around in the driveway. Her cheeks were flushed a healthy pink and her hair was a wild, flowing mane framing her tiny smiling face. My muse needs Spring too as it has been a cold and dry Winter for me creatively as well. These last several months I’ve spent my free time working on my health, busting through workouts while the creative genius of other writers provide the soundtrack to my torturous elliptical sessions . Yann Martel’s Life of Pi has been an inspiration. He is a compelling storyteller. He writes with depth and humanity and humor. He has at turns made me laugh, cry and lose myself in the vivid colors and rich textured of his world. Martel has joined the ranks of my favorite authors…second only perhaps to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, an absolute master of the craft. Marquez’s “Of Love and Other Demons” is a testimony of how writing can be both incredibly beautiful and painfully visceral all at once. It is a book that has stayed with me as I expect Martel’s “Life of Pi” will. These are “writer’s writers”, a borrowed phrase that is absolutely fitting of authors like these. I learn something about my own limitations and abilities with each chapter I digest. I can only hope to build such worlds and create such characters one day. For now, I remain an ever- hungered, ever-seeking novice, constantly fine- tuning my palette of appreciation for the written word. |
| A very rough start to something, a bit darker but hopefully fleshed out enough to become an actual working draft soon.... I don’t remember the first time I drowned. My mother always refused to talk about it. Apparently, the trauma from my near demise was so deeply rooted that even the mere mention of the incident would drive her into a fury after which she would retreat into a migrained-fueled gloom for days. I have managed to gather the details through family friends and a handful of reluctant witness who were at the lake that day. From all accounts, one minute I was a carefree, raven-haired toddler running up and down the beach in the sun. I was full of mirth and frantic energy, playing with my gaggle of older cousins at the water’s edge. Suddenly my mother bolted up from her deck chair, her highball glass slipping from her hand, her face registering sheer terror. She was already weeping, already screaming my name before anyone else even realized something was wrong. “Rina!” she screamed, shoving my dazed cousins aside as she plunged into the cold lake water, her eyes frantically searching the surface for some sign of her baby girl. It was my cousin Ryan who found me, about eight yards off shore, underwater. My mother dropped to her knees, wailing as he laid my limp body on the beach. He gave me mouth to mouth for what seemed like endless minutes before my breath returned and I vomited ribbons of dark lake water into the sand. My name is Nerina, named for my great grandmother. It means “water” in Greek. I find that most ironic since that summer was the last time we went to the lake, it was the last time my mother ever let me near the water. |
| Music is an integral part of each of my days. Frequently I find myself fine tuning my Spotify library so that the tunes match my mood...be it elated, brooding or melancholy. Ever so often I find myself completely immersed in a song that so accurately transcribes my state of being that it transports me to place of clarity and peace. Today that song for me was Mumford and Son's "Hold On to What You Believe". I'm a recent convert and admittedly, I'm not 100% sure of everything that song may be about but today some of the pointed lyrics and the strained, highland-rocker angst tone really swept me up. I had been thinking of someone lost, who is no longer "breathing through the trees" of my landscape. I had been struggling with my own "war torn world" and finding it harder to hold onto what I believe "in the light when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight." Sometimes it just takes a well-placed tune to wipe the ugly words and harsh moments from your memories...if for a few minutes. I know I need to start writing again, seriously...and not the candy-coated, sex-slick erotica that I've been producing. I appreciate the success I've had with it but it is the easy path certainly and there is much more I could do. I have bigger stories that I am avoiding telling. There are conflicted phantoms demanding audience and a toxic, beautifully damaged protagonist waiting in the wings. I need to wrap them around me, like the music, and let it flow. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
