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 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
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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    |
| The four day weekend and ensuing holiday afforded me many opportunities to recognize all the things I am most thankful for. There was the bounty of good food, hours spent with family and friends and even a few of those soft, quiet moments we so rarely get to enjoy as parents of a growing toddler. I think overall, it was one of the nicest Thanksgivings on record, aside from the ones spent as children, with both parents and extended family united under the same roof. It is hard to compete with those holidays of yesterday when, as children, we were free to become blissfully caught up in all things fun and festive, believing as innocent children do, that things would all remain the same. As adults, and being spouses and parents ourselves, we have come to understand life is beautifully complex but holidays can still be enjoyable and fulfilling even if they are disjointed and displaced. We still manage to share the joy even if it is simply by texting one another as we sit down to meals at separate tables. Perhaps the best part of the holiday weekend where the little surprise opportunities to enjoy something rare in each other. Upon returning home on Thanksgiving, Jaden fell asleep shortly before 7:00pm and I, drawing on some mysterious new energy reserves, set about decorating the house for Christmas. In the space of two hours, Fatih and I were cuddled under the glow of the christmas tree lights sipping cold mugs of sweet eggnog. Then two night later, following a holiday boat parade in Mystic, Jaden and I joined my brother's family for leftovers at my Dad's house. New baby Brandon slept peacefully in Joy's lap while Jaden and Tyler played with Grampa. I had been feeling an inexplicable distance growing between my father and I as of late so it was very healing to watch him with the kids, being every bit the loving Grandpa, engaged in the lives of his grandbabies, delighted to be with them. Watching him, I remembered the father of my youth. The father who would suddenly leap off the couch and growl at us, signaling the familiar animated chase that would take us through rooms and down narrow hallways. We would race against each other, bumping and jostling, screaming and giggling, rushing not to be the one that fell behind, the one would be be scooped up first by the tickle monster. The chase would inevitably lead to my mother, who would always open her arms and offer us refuge. The relief was short-lived though, as one by one my father would pry us from her and subject us to a merciless tickling that would leave us delirious with laughter and gasping for breath. After this spirited game, my father always seemed as spent and exhausted as the rest of us. I have the distinct memory of him, kneeling on the living room floor, breathing in ragged breaths and smiling up at my mother, a look passing between them that struck me, even then, as both secret and special. My daughter and nephew have become the latest victims of this same tickle monster. He has aged considerably since those days of my youth, but he is no less merciful. The smile though, that's very much the same, brighter even, if that is possible. Some time later, just before we make ready to go, my father even drags his old base and amp from the basement and treats the kids to a little lesson. Something very powerful wells up inside me, makes my throat thick and my eyes tear as I watch. Tyler sits in his lap, his small arms wrapped around the beautiful cream-colored instrument, trying to follow his grandfather's instructions, his tiny fingers trying to mimic the movements. Jaden stands by in her footsie pajamas, watching them, waiting for her turn..completely enraptured with it. I am distinctly aware that this is a precious moment, one of the ones that life offers up without prejudice, without asking for anything in return other than to recognize and appreciate the wonder and grace of those few minutes. I am aware and I am thankful. |
| Despite my attempt to focus on writing more and getting back to generating more submissions for publications, it seems I have fallen farther behind. Another month ends and with it, the various deadlines for publications that might have bought some of my work expire as well. It seems these days the only thing that truly inspires me is my daughter and I am hopelessly distracted by the joy in watching her grow and blossom in front of my eyes. Last night we were too exhausted to risk a 4am wake-up call so we let her sleep in our bed once she'd fallen asleep. I left her there sleeping, one arm over her eyes and the other flung out across her father's chest, while I tiptoed across cold wood floors to the shower. I was almost fully dressed by the time she opened her eyes and flashed me a sleepy smile. After a few minutes of studying me, she pulled herself up to her knees and brushed her unruly locks out of her eyes with her forearm. I jumped down on the bed and became a dragon, crawling toward her snarling and tugging at the blankets to draw her closer, ever closer. She erupted into giggles and flung herself the rest of the distance and into my arms. I look at my daughter all the time. I find it odd that even though it seems I can never get enough of the perfection and beauty of her tiny visage, there are those moments when I notice a feature or some tiny new thing I hadn't seen before and I am left marveling at how I possible missed it. This morning that detail was the rim of darker blue around her baby blue eyes, a ring of deep indigo, an almost impossible shade of blue. Just the other day I had noted Jaden's eyes were changing to be more like my own hazel pools, but here they were now, inches from my face, flashing bright and very blue in the morning sunlight. It is almost mystical how every day with her is a gift of discovery. |
| Halloween is one of my most favorite holidays. We skipped our annual party this year because we have so many other expenses and as a result, I found I had a harder time getting into the festivities. Normally I pick out our costumes a month before but this year, I bought an $8.00 witch hat in target and splurged on a $6.00 plastic cat ring with red blinking eyes. The only reason I made even that small effort was because I thought the chances of getting Jaden into her costume would be greater if she saw that Mommy was dressed up too. I did not even bother to decorate the house, not even one rubber spider. And while I kept meaning to buy and carve a pumpkin, I never got around to that. I was really phoning it in this year and I knew it. Jaden already had her costume, an old flower girl ballgown borrowed from her cousin and a cheap instant angel kit. Ill I needed to do was take her out to use it. When I finally got the costume on her all together I was delighted at how very pretty it looked. The ballgown was full and when she walked, it almost looked like she was floating. The tiny silver shoes and big white sparkling wings really worked perfectly. The headband halo, which was crooked most of the time, just capped everything off perfectly. The best part about Jaden's costume was that she actually wore it. And not just casually either, she owned that costume! I was amazed watching her walk among the other older trick or treaters, jocking a place in front of the candy buckets and lifting her elmo basket up to get her treats. She rarely cracked a smile, concentrating as she was on the next candy stop ahead of her. Later, she walked hand in hand with her little friend and every once and a while she would look down in her basket and smile. She was in and out of her costume at least four times that night and never once complained or baulked me. She would stay patiently while I fluffed the taffeta of her dress and attached her wings and halo and then she was off again, seemingly tireless. I finally let her have a mini chocolate bar. Watching her enjoy that treat was the best part of the night. She polished it off, licked her fingers and grinned up at me. She now knows the word "candy" and she's a fan. She must have been exhausted but she sang and danced in her car seat the whole way home. When we finally crawled into bed to catch the goodnight show on Sprout, she was still giddy. The best mood ever! I had anticipated a battle or two over the course of the night but Jaden delivered what amounted to my most favorite Halloween night to date. She more than made up for not having a party. She looked so beautiful and was so good, so cute and so funny. She was simply delightful. She finally did manage to fall asleep after finishing her milk. She snuggled back against me and clutched her stuffed sheep, whom she has apparently named "Baa", to her chest. I'm pretty sure she was the most beautiful angel I'd ever seen. |
| The phantoms I profess to share my spaces with have been quiet for some time. I have found that I miss those soft music box chords drifting down through the bedroom ceiling, the oddly spaced footfalls and all the other random and unexplainable noises. I wonder, have my ghosts moved on? Did they finally grow weary of the barking dogs? Have they fled after witnessing the fury of my toddler's tantrums? I have found myself actively listening lately, searching for a sign that we warm and living occupants are not alone in the old house. This time of year it is easy to find oneself preoccupied with specters, perhaps that is why I notice their apparent absence more and more. My husband would certainly appreciate their departure. He never shared my comfort with living in a house that may be, for lack of a better word, haunted. These days the only cold drafts are from the leaky windows and one could barely hear something as subtle as faint music or footsteps above the dim of our busy daily lives, and that saddens me in some strange way. |
| A dream is rare these days, even rarer is one I remember clearly upon awakening. This morning, I awoke with a flaming sore throat and a vivid memory of a dream that seemed to span hours. The dream landscape was a coastal college where classes were conducted on soft sand beaches that abutted a wide bay. Despite the exterior luxuries, the dormitories amounted to little more than summer camp cabins. The one I lived in was dank and dark and suffered from a spider invasion that should have woken me screaming. In the dream reality, I was alarmingly less concerned about spiders than I was about pursuing an old flame. The dream consisted of me attending classes, reading classical literature and trying to shack up anywhere else but my own wretched cabin. It was a dream wholly uneventful except that I did finally engage in a first kiss, an experience that was so tactile and vivid that I believe I woke myself up to escape it. I spent a few extra moments lying in bed feeling guilt-ridden. Dreams, I have always believed, are the mind's way of processing and shedding unused and unnecessary information and emotions. While the scenery was unfamiliar taken as a whole, looking back I can see elements of places I have been. The bay was eerily similar to the one we vacationed on in Provincetown once. The sands were clearly those same ones I sunk my toes into down in Fort Lauderdale. The spiders, summer cabins and the old flame...I have no idea about. What is most surprising is the amount of guilt and shame my innocent actions invoked. As a writer of erotic fiction, I have imagined far more scandalous actions than kisses and never once felt the least bit ashamed. But this simple kiss from someone I have not thought about in years provoked such guilt! It was strange and somehow even a little charming. Then again, perhaps the guilt is inspired by the fact that in my dream I was not yet a wife and a mother? Was my mind escaping my reality to travel to a world where I enjoyed the freedom of being single and living without real responsibilities? If the dream me had been the real me, I most certainly would have been appalled by the conditions, concerned about the quarter-sized spiders sleeping inches from my head and the last thing I would have been interested in is a kiss from anyone from my past. Oddly enough my sister was telling me about her recent dream. It seemed to be very prophetic in nature, the dream's message clearly discernible amid the jumbled images. I don't think I dream like that. I can't find a single usable or applicable message in mine. It is Halloween, perhaps the spiders were inspired by all the seasonal decor? Perhaps the beach is telling me how badly I need a vacation? And that kiss? I keep coming up empty on explanations for that. It seems my nocturnal musings have left me with little more than a bit of mystery. |
| I was lying awake this morning at the unforgiving hour of 4am, thinking about the week of work ahead of me and all the housework I'd failed to get done over the weekend and the almost constant worries about our finances. I was preoccupied with my busy thoughts and just starting the feel the creeping stress of it all when Jaden made a sound as she slept beside me. It was faint and soft, it had barely registered in the darkness. I propped myself up on one elbow and watched her, her face was positively angelic in her slumber. Then she did it again and I realized with a measure of delighted wonder, that she was giggling. My daughter was having a happy dream. I could not remember the last time I had a dream in which I was happy, let alone one that inspired me to laugh. She giggled again and this time the corners of her perfect mouth curled into a sleepy smile. Her thick dark eyelashes looked like delicate little wings that fluttered but remained closed. She rolled over to her side, the slight smile still there as she dropped back into a deeper, dreamless sleep. I curled my body back down around hers, she fit into the curves of my body like a missing puzzle piece. I took one of her small hands in mine and felt the tiny fingers wrap around my thumb. My daughters soft sleep giggles was just about the best sound I have ever heard and like a super tonic, it swept the toxins from my mind. When my alarm woke me up three hours later, I felt as if I had sleep soundly all night. |
| This morning I drove the thirty minutes to Jaden's daycare in the usual way. I pointed out mundane things as we pass them like trees and trucks in hopes of keeping her morning motion sickness at bay. The ipod pumped in tunes from her personal playlist and she bounced along in her car seat to the Wiggles and toddler techno. When we arrived at the school and I helped her out of the car, she wrapped her arms around her turtle backpack and reached up for my hand. It wasn't until we reached the doorway to her classroom that she started to waffle. Inside the room, the kids rushed to greet her. In response, she wrapped her arms around my legs and hid her face. Uh oh..I thought, it is one of those mornings... I had been half expecting it after working from home with her the day before. She had been with me all day, even dragging in her pink princess chair into the dining room so she could sit next to me while I worked at the table. Jaden looked up at me with those expressive eyes of hers. They said "Mommy, don't leave me here..." as loudly as if the words had passed through her lips. The guilt hit me in my gut like a sucker punch. It didn't help knowing that five minutes after I left, she would be playing happily with her friends or cuddling with her teacher. I dropped down to her level and pulled her into me. I waited with a sinking heart for the sobbing to begin but she simply clung to me and pressed her head against my chest. I reminded her how much fun she always had and told her I would be back to pick her up in a few hours. I rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. Miss Amy stepped in for a hug. As she lifted Jaden into her arms, I saw a flicker of resignation in my daughter's eyes. I stood waving goodbye from the door but she wouldn't look, she had already dismissed me. The teacher mouthed, "she'll be fine" and gave me a sympathetic smile. Jaden hadn't cried this morning, but I did, just as soon as I got out the door and in my car. I know she will be fine. In fact, she had done remarkably well adapting to daycare. She's been in the program now since she was about seven weeks old. Jaden's teachers report that she is a kind, affectionate and sweet girl who showers her teachers and classmates with tender attention. She shares well, uses good manners and shows a healthy interest in children of all ages. I know she spend her days in a safe and caring environment every day and is surrounded by teachers and administrators that work to help her develop to her full potential. I know all this and still, when Jaden turns those expectant baby blues on me, I crumble inside. I want her to know that as hard as it may feel to have me leave her, it is a thousand times harder for me. I drive to work with an ache in my heart. I forge through the day, clock-watching and waiting until the time when I get to leave and go pick her up. I want her to know that the joy I see in her eyes when I walk through the door, is only a smaller measure of the elation in my heart. I want her to know that the very best part of every day is seeing her and knowing I get to take her home with me. |
| It is hard to look into your deep brown eyes and not see the face of the child I comforted through night terrors. It is hard to listen your voice and not hear the echo of that troubled child in all the toxic rhetoric, self-deprecation and tearful admissions. It is hard to steel myself against the need to comfort the aching adult in the wake of more poor decisions and unfortunate choices. It is all so familiar, this language of dependency and self-loathing. After living with an alcoholic for five years, after trying desparately to hold our lives together with the last shred of my own sanity, after watching him die so badly, I have learned the hard lesson of the importance of living without expectations. Is this a valid enough excuse for not wrapping my arms around the wounded? For not investing myself in another life lost and drifting? Does it absolve me from at least trying to save you from yourself? I don't know. I only know I can not audit the same litany of broken promises, guilt-ridden confessions, angry outbursts. I only know I can not watch you drown yourself in the same cesspool of addiction. I only understand that I can not live through burying someone else I love that way again. |
| It has been a rough few days as I am battling aching joints and headaches that seem to come out of the blue. I've had to remove my rings because typing is painful enough without the pressure of the metal bands. I've increased my water intake in hopes to flush out the mysterious illness that threatens to tap my already low energy reserves. I've still not cleaned up the house after the storm and all the sheets need changing and the fridge needs a complete overhaul. I'm trying not to get depressed even as I ponder whether or not this is just the aging process aggravated by additional stress...I feel every bit as old as my thirty-seven years. on the writing front, I've managed to churn out some new material but I am still lagging behind in my efforts to get things out to potential publishers and the gap between my acceptances grows wider by the week. My weak attempt at blogging is the only thing I seem to manage to do with any regularity. This morning my daughter's typical demands seemed suddenly overwhelming and I found that I was raising my voice in opposition to her defiant head shakes and other typical toddler resistance tactics. Driving to work, I was sick with guilt over my relief that my husband had elected to handle the morning drop off at daycare. It is hard to keep positive when you have the nagging suspicion that you are failing at most things. Last night the woman I saw in the mirror looked tired and washed out. I used to be vibrant once. |
| Irene has come and gone and most of state is still recovering. We lost power for about five hours total, while most of the family still remains in the dark.I don't know how people are coping, some running three or four days now without power. I imagine it starts out as an adventure but quickly becomes tedious when the grinding hum of the generator disturbs the silence and even reading by candlelight becomes too much of a challenge to be a distraction. One of my coworker recently joked that he would have "sucked as a settler". I can understand that sentiment completely. The power outages have brought about a few nice opportunities I'm sure, as families have resorted to playing board games by lantern light to pass the time. Recently I found myself cooking side by side with my brother while our kids played together in the next room. It was a nice, rare moment. Jaden has had a blast as our home has become a hub of activity. It seems there is always someone stopping in to shower or snag a hot meal and she has been delighted by the visits. One day the lights will all come back on, and we will all go back to our busy lives...until then, it is nice to take advantage of needing each other, of passing the down time in dim light and simple pleasures. |
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