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Musings of a Mum: A letter to Bowie upon completion of her 3rd year of life

Dear Bowie,

Your 3rd birthday last week also marks for me the 3rd anniversary of motherhood. So much of that time was spent keeping you physically alive and thriving, and now we are shifting to more behavioral education. It's fascinating, confusing, satisfying, exhausting.

Still what continues to keep my attention is the back and forth feelings of motherhood. Some moments I am seriously killing it. Other moments, it feels wrong everywhere I can feel anything.

Listen, kid. 3 year olds are jerks. Seriously, they are selfish and rude and illogical and bipolar. They yell so loud about the stupidest stuff that you have no recourse but to laugh or run. But they are also unabashedly adoring, delightfully surprised at life, oddly kind to their friends, and wildly funny. You have those moments, both. But there is a strong undercurrent of compliance and desire for peace - an undercurrent I do not possess, not really. As I've always said about you, either you haven't yet grown into your "fight," or, like your father, your default setting is general compliance. 

I think of your older self a lot, Bowie. I watch the 7 year old girl across the street sometimes when I am working, and I think how interesting it will be to have a 7 year old, and yet - also unimaginable. I imagine you as a teenager, as a college student, as a young woman. Almost inexorable from those thoughts exists a question, "What will you think of me?" That question is perhaps my most powerful motivator for the following:
  • Take care of myself, my own needs, my own soul, my own body, my own career, my own marriage, my own political beliefs, my own relationships, my own spiritual practices. For when you don't need me to mother you anymore, you will need an example of how to thrive as a woman in the golden years of her life.
  • Dig into parenting with all I have - my intellect, my emotions (both hidden and present), my id and ego- and not with the intention of mastery, but with the intention of learning.
  • Continue the struggle to define the blurry line separating me from you. As you get older, it gets somewhat easier, but the question will always fascinate me. We are to be connected for the duration of this human life, but the boundary between a healthy and an unhealthy attachment is precarious. I commit to walking it with you, always.
  • Not define you. To hold all the yous you've ever been and will be as true and present. This is so difficult for logical troubleshooters such as your father and myself. We want to pinpoint the needs so we can meet them and move on. You do not work this way. 
  • Walk in your shoes. I find sympathy to be a large wellspring in parenting, a way to tap into patience and kindness. I find it easy now, relating to your daily struggles and wondering what it must be like to have so many people telling you what and how to do things all day.
  • Be honest with you. To incorporate both the happiness, sadness, and ever-present ambivalence of life into your childhood without shame or stigma.
  • Continue to teach myself how to play.
  • Stay rad. 

As is my usual practice, I've sat with my journals and highlighted any time I spoke of you. This are my thoughts from this year.  I will let them speak for me today.

Mum



A Letter of Journal Entries

27 July 2014

We took Bowie to Golden Gardens and because it was overcast, it was perfect beach weather. She is a great independent lady at the beach now, a far cry from when we visited Southern California in February. She wouldn't even put her feet in the sand, and now she's all in. She walks around collecting rocks and she sat, leaning on a big log of driftwood, noticing how much more we are enjoying parenting because she requires so much less intervention. I felt a deep inner peace, such that usually alludes me.

August 10, 2014

There may be no better feeling these days than seeing my friends adore B. They dote on her, but also set up clear boundaries and instructions. Last night, she only wanted BC to put on her shoes, not me. I revel in this, actually. She's finding her way into her own volition these days.

She pooped in the potty!

Just today she said, "Hold it!" to a bad of dried apples we were sharing. I gave her more apples and she again demanded, "Hold it!" I knew what she meant, but for some reason still didn't give her the bag. She assumed I didn't understand, so she clear as day said, "Hold the bag!" It took me aback..the maturity of it.

Later she was standing in the evening air and look at the sky, "It's nice out here."


August 20, 2014

Being a mother feels antithetical to self preservation. As I approach the deadline of Bowie going to preschool all day at age 2, I realize that it's not the transition or her well being I'm most concerned with. Not exactly. I've lived through both - as had she. I am afraid of being hurt, of my own hurt. I want to avoid the heartache of leaving her or looking back at her crying/calling for me and me not being there, not answering her. In the real scenario, she will comfort herself or use her resources (teachers, etc). In my imagination, she's alone crying for me and stays that way forever until I can get back to her. Must use imagination to build more healthy scenarios. But as motherhood is antithetical to a heart's survival thusly; one senses grief, heartache, loss, and inevitable separation, but persists in the very self-destruction they know they should (and would, in other relationships) avoid. That's what motherhood feels like, wearing skin inside out somehow. Suffering under perpetual, beautiful, tender heartache.

September 27, 2014

I wish I could convey the nightmare that has been preschool. I spoke to the school today, and felt better, but after a weekend of seeing Bowie cry similarly (even when leaving her with Joel), I began to realize a thicker skin about separation. I see she's upset, but not because she's doesn't want school, but that she just wants me right now.

It's odd, all this versioning of her. Such a mild, go-to-anyone baby transforms to a sensitive, noise-averse toddler transforms to an outspoken, wildly attached 2 year old. She's such a joy right now, but school has been rough. And aside from her, there is the observation of myself in crisis and panic at how to make a decision for your kid. You trust your gut, but also know that guts can be untrustworthy. (For instance, my gut says to rescue her, but that's not what's best for her always).



I want to get out of her way. and have enough where-with-all to handle my own discomfort and worry, but I feel unpracticed at it. The worry is so painful and dis-empowering. One must be very self-strong to contain it so it doesn't become toxic to their child. We are grieving each other, missing knowing what's going on with her every minute, but we are also learning to let go, and that does feel good. The learning. But if I can manage a good routine of self-care and adequate time for reflection, I think I can work through these sufferings without negatively affecting our codependency. She is her own person with her own life. So many things I am feeling are emotions I've heard people talk about before, that children are terrifying, that the worry never stops. But it's so real, the actual terror I feel at leaving her if I imagine she's scared. To actually LET her grieve and not try to make her happy - to remember that this is her life I am preparing her for - not mine. It's massively scary.

October 22, 2014

Bowie is such a mixed bag right now. Either that or I am just not adjusting to the cadence of toddlers quickly. Sometimes, and often, she is so sweet and cuddly, so curious, so expressive, so easy to talk to and be around. Other times, she's asking for the impossible and pushing every hidden button I never knew I had. But honestly, I wish she'd stay this age forever. I want her here with me, not out there.



December 25, 2014

Twice today (once from each mother), I've been told to memorize the moments. No doubt they were both referring to Bowie's childhood. I try, I really do try. But I'm enjoying the moments with her so much that I almost forget to notice. Me. Forget.To.Notice. A feat I would have thought impossible only a few short years ago. Bowie is so sweet with us. She loves to cuddle and be held, she's sick again. But so far, even in her bratty moments, there's a disbelief of her own mischief residing behind her eyes. It's a piercing goodness, much like that of her father's.




1.28.15

(In January, I began to spend 5 min per night recording something B had done or said that day)

B was balancing precariously on the settee and I told her, "Be careful Bowie! That makes mommy nervous." And then, as an aside, "But I guess that's not your problem, that's my problem." To which she quickly retorted with a lot of sass, "No! It's MY PROBLEM."

1.30.15

B was playing in the car and climbed into the front seat. Joel and I stood outside talking and when it came time to collect B, she said, "Close the door, please. I'm driving to Grandma's."

2.2.15

Bowie said "just kidding" for the first time today. I challenged her with the choice of either moving now or being carried. When I got up to pick her up, she balked and said, "just kidding!" It made me laugh. She now begins each story with "once upon a time." I have no idea where she's getting this stuff.

2.7.15

Tonight, B put on new pj's she hadn't seen yet. They are black and white with planets and rocket ships all over. As we put them on after her bath, I told her she needed to find Daddy and say, "Daddy, let's go to space." She ran out of the bathroom and performed her line just as we'd rehearsed, much to Joel's delight. He replied in the affirmative so she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Daddy, let's go! We have to get our coats on."

2.8.15

We went to the grocery story today. A friendly checker talked to Bowie. Bowie said she went to the airport yesterday (we had just returned from CA). "Oh! Where did you go?" asked the checker. Bowie replied, "I was poopy." Indeed, she was recounting the story of how I changed her rather disgusting diaper during a turbulent landing. A remarkable memory indeed.


2.14.15

Today we drove to Leavenworth on a whim. She got a Gatorade in a soda cup w/ lid and straw while we got beers. As we sat in the beer garden, she began to lose it. The final straw was when she dropped her Gatorade and loudly yelled, "MY BEER!!!!" We laughed and left.

2.15.15

Bowie and Joel were cooking tonight. Joel had just scolded her for not listening. She asked him, "Daddy, you not happy?!" And he said was frustrated, but would be okay later. She said, "Daddy, I love you sooooo much," in exactly the same manner Joel says it to her at bedtime. And then asked again, "Now you happy?!" He melted, "Yes. Now I'm happy."

2.19.15

On the drive home today, I locked eyes with Bowie and we had a moment. I said, "I like you, Bowie." She very tenderly said, " I don't like you, Mommy."

2.25.15

Apparently everything pink is "pinky." And we now say "por favor."

3.11.15

Joel was doing the dishes and playing music. Bowie and I were getting her ready for bed. She heard the music and said so softly, "Momma. I just need to dance a yittle bit." Yup. Total trump card. We went out and danced.

3.17.5

Today during a getting dressed cuddle, Bowie said, "You're my Candace."

 4.5.25

Tonight, Bowie came up to me and said she had to leave, that she had an appointment. She would walk into the other room and then walk back, "I'm back!" But she was apparently disappointed in my reaction because she said, "You need to cry when I leave!" So I did. She looked back on her way out of the room and said, "It's okay. I'm just going to work. I'll be back."

4.7.15

We are totally potty trained! Yay for school.




Bowie drove for the second time tonight. It's becoming a ritual for her to drive the car on Gma's driveway every Sunday night as we head home. She loves it!

4.21.15

Bowie's memory is remarkable. She woke up today and repeated to Uncle Tim (who is visiting) all of the nothings we spoke about yesterday. Chatting about robots and her backpack. Later, we went to a restaurant and she exclaimed to the server, "Uncle Brian is coming!" The server was not excited, but Bowie sure was. I had told her about Brian coming two days prior and didn't mention it again.

Later, she dropped her sidewalk chalk and said, "Oh I'm so sorry chalk!" picked it up, and cuddled it, saying  "it's okay, it's okay."

4.25.15

Bowie and Greta escaped today. We were all chatting and suddenly it got silent. It was Joel's turn to investigate the girls, and he couldn't find them. We all began to look and someone found them in the front yard, half way down the steps to the street. Greta was naked and Bowie had no shoes on. I had no idea they could even open doors on their own.

Bowie slept over at Greta's house tonight for the first time. They had a blast!



4.30.15

Bowie has a book that's a parody of "Goodnight Moon" called "Goodnight Goon." She's fascinated by one part in particular where a skull sits on a table, separated from its body. So we've discussed several times how a skull is under your skin, holding you up. This morning she surprised me by telling me that she has a skull "but we can't take it off, no no!"And then she tried, just like the skeleton in the book who misplaced his skull and left it on the nightstand.

May 2015

Joel and I sat on the back porch, sipping wine while trying to muster up the energy to make dinner. Bowie played contentedly in the garden, probably drowning my basil in too much water. I had told Joel a few days ago that I feel the most content when we are all three at home together. I never understood how mothers could feel so happy at Xmas time "just being all together!" but now I get it. When Bowie's not here, I feel like someone took an artery out of my arm and stretched it out as far as Bowie wanders. Will it always feel this way?

Joel told me today that he remembered when I had said I was happiest when we were together. He nodded, "Me too."

5.5.15

I had a stomach ache and was laying next to Bowie on the couch. She put a blanket on me and began to pat my back. She gave me her rabbit and dolls to cuddle and instructions, "No yelling. Close your eyes. Keep your body calm." Good nap instructions, I say.



5.12.15

Today, for the first time, Bowie asked me how my day was. I told her I went to the dentist. She told me all about her latest dentist trip.




5.23.15

Kelly's cancer has returned and I was sad all day. Bowie noticed and we talked frankly about Aunt Keyee. She grabbed my face and said something I say to her all the time, "It's okay to be sad, Momma."


I stubbed my toe and Bowie was very concerned. She said, "Are you okay, sweetie?!" And then bent down and kissed it for me. "There, s'okay now?"

June 2015
Bowie sings ALL the time now. Her very first song was "Twinkle, Twinkle" but she's got a remarkable memory for songs and damn good pitch. She loves a song I made up where I spell her name out to her. We teach her a new song daily and the very next morning, she's singing that same song perfectly. Among her favorite requests this year:

  • "Let Down" Radiohead
  • "Wish I was the Moon" Neko Case
  • "Perfect Day" Lou Reed
  • "Yellow Submarine" The Beatles
  • "Twinkle Twinkle" 
  • "The Wheels on the Bus" (much to my dismay)
  • "Jingle Bells"
  • "Happy Birthday"
  • "Say Say, Oh Playmate"
  • "Sing a song of Sixpence"
  • "Sunday Kind of Love" Etta James




Always your Mum.





crm
musings of a mum
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Musings of a Mum: 2 years (and a few months) old

Prologue:

Dear Bowie,
 I've not written a letter to you since you were 13 months old.  Sit down with a big mug of something peaceful and drink it in, my baby girl. It's a long one.

Mum




Dear Bowie,

Recently, we've been visiting public pools, learning to swim.  At first you were trepidatious and clingy, but then you began to kick!kick!kick! fantastically. Though shivering, you laughed and bobbed up and down with Mama.  You kicked as Daddy helped you glide across the top of the water.  You clung to a red bouncy ball for dear life, and you didn't want to get out.

You love water.  I admit that I love this about you, in part because it's also a love I share. Last weekend, you determined to go in Gpa's fish pond.  You loved it, and we all gathered about watching and enjoying the summer air on skin.

It's a great time of year to be born, if I do say so myself.  Everyone should try a summer birthday, just once.



I just read last year's letter that I wrote to you.  I expressed a lot of fear about the loss of my baby and how I was dreading the inevitability of your independence.  But like you, I have grown up a lot this year. Motherhood feels more and more natural as you integrate into our life, as we become more complete as 3 humans sharing a soul-space.



I have been reading a book called "Brain Rules for Baby," and it's got me thinking about social intelligence. Since it's the main focus of how I am interacting with you these days, I thought you might like to know where I am coming from.

On Happiness:

The majority of parents say that the biggest goal for parenting is, "I want my kid to be happy."  Humans have spent years and years attempting to define what the word happiness really means.  Well, scientists have come to the conclusion that a truly happy human is a connected human.  That is to say, a human's personal happiness is inextricably derived from her relationships.  Yes, your relationship with yourself, but even more so - your relationship with others.

This makes sense to me.  Our very DNA decided long ago that collaboration was better than competition. A single celled organism knew it had no chance of survival alone, so it decided to mate.  And mate, and mate, and mate...and billions of years of this mating produced us. The human body - the walking quintessence of collaboration and connection.  All temperament and personality traits aside, all humans need connection to other humans.

This has become my focus for you.  But how do you teach a child how to be a good friend?  There are a lot of practical applications that I am still discovering, but the ideals as stated in "Brain Rules for Baby" are two-fold.

1. Emotional Regulation:  

A person must develop emotional intelligence before they can be socially smart. They must learn when and how to express their feelings.  Many people who were never taught to do this (for indeed it is a lesson to be learned, ideally from your parents) are again and again miserable creatures with toxic relationships.  So instead of trying to talk you out of feeling badly, I try to model sitting with how you feel...with naming it and not obsessing with trying to fix it. You cannot regulate emotions if you cannot name what you are feeling. This is much more difficult than I imagined, since being a parent means protecting you.

2. Empathy:

Again and again, the word empathy continues to find its way onto my parenting radar.  It is the cornerstone for teaching a child almost everything.  Sharing, potty-training, self-control, etc. For us, it has been a focus in sharing.  Instead of intervening and snatching a toy out of your hand (even though I just told you that 'we don't take toys from our friends') in my attempt to enforce sharing, I simply let you and your friends work it out.  When you refuse to share, I try to model empathy. I explain that I understand not wanting to share, and that it's hard to give your toys away.  I ask you what toys your friend can have.  Instead of me controlling you, I try to find ways to empower you.  Sounds great, yes. But, this has lead to you getting toys snatched from you and crying.  Your heart is broken, it's obvious.

You are an easy student.  You had already begun your own emotional education by acting out sadness.  You put your lip out and say, "Sad."  Then you say "HUG!" Then you say, "happy."    I have no idea who taught you that, but it's achingly beautiful to behold.  Your baby, the hose, the kitty, your friends, Mamma, the stool - all of these have been deemed sad, then hugged, then made happy.

But that is now.  We've been through a lot in a year.  You've gone from baby to human.  Where once you needed everything from me, and I needed to be sure I wasn't getting lost in you -now you need less and less from me and I can't even find the place inside where you don't reside.

______________________________

A Letter of Journal Entries

______________________________

I've spent hours with my journals, highlighting whenever I spoke of you. Though I didn't write you monthly letters this year, I found myself writing of you in my quiet time.  The following represents excerpts of your progress throughout the year. 

Bowie Andromeda
13 months old, July 2013

July 2013:

"Have I begun to miss Bowie?  Last night, as I began to wander from the social gathering mentally, I began to dream of Bowie's silly grin and when I go in and wake her up.  Her sweet cheeks, her pathetic "ohhhh."  I am not eager to return to the work of a toddler, but I miss the personality of Bowie."


Bowie Andromeda
14 months old, August 2013

August 2013:

"An interesting concept came up in therapy last week.  We were discussing Bowie and how's she scaring the shit out of me right now.  Exerting her will and showing her independence.  She has increasing powers of dislodging my guts; I cherish her more and more.  It's unnatural to have a premonition that one's heart is in danger, and still persist in loving.  So here I am with my heart bleeding out, and then I hear myself want space from the person threatening to expose me.  

 It began many weeks ago when she started presenting more of herself to me and I began to resent the new work of keeping her entertained and the mind-numbing repetition of parenting/discipline.  I thought I must not like her.  Well, if I have the power to dislike her - Fuck. She has the same power.  And that's when it hit me newly, that we will have two distinct and different personalities with absolutely zero guarantee that we'll get a long.  I think I mistakenly equate getting along with one's parents as a sign of their abilities as a parent."


Bowie Andromeda
15 months old, September 2013

September 2013

"Bowie won't stay put these days. She wants to be where I am, discovering what I am doing, tasting what I'm eating.  What a delightful phase, actually.  Only weeks ago, I didn't like it.  I couldn't find myself time in her new goings on.  But I've adjusted.  Joel says it's his favorite so far - she's questioning and curious and expressing herself (and LOVES Dad right now, incidentally)."

Bowie Andromeda
16 months old, October 2014

October 2013:

You took your first steps at your friend Greta's house in mid-October. 

Bowie Andromeda
17 months old, November 2013

November 2013:

"I'm now always looking forward to seeing her.  That little lady is now stuck in my gut."

"She is climbing up on the couch by herself this week.  She loves to snuggle the cat, kiss her, try to pick her up, and torture her.  She loves to push 'no' even more and it's shocking to me how quickly I became enraged after a few hours of this.  She thinks time outs are a game.  Test, test, retest...I see her brain doing it.  I know it logically, I know it when I step back.  I was so frustrated today and when Joel came home, I went to my teeth cleaning with pleasure.  When I returned, I was able to handle her volatility with compassion and gentleness.  Just step back."

"If I return to full time work, I will mourn the loss of our mornings together.  I've learned to tame the productivity beast I wake up with and can ritualize the morning. Bowie is most resilient and independent during this time as well - this gives us both free time.  She wanders about, typing on the old typewriter, playing with her toys, signing for me to help her with books or climbing."


Bowie Andromeda
18 months old, December 2013

December 2013:

  • How easily and deeply you laugh
  • Your obsession with and preferences for books.  You will bring us the same book to read 6-8 times.  We will then try to pick a new one, and you will heartily cast it aside if you don't approve.  Sometimes when the house is too quiet, I'll go searching and find you in your room sitting on your rocking chair, reading to yourself.  Currently, it's: "Llama Lama" books, "The Going to Bed Book" (despite your disdain for the 2nd to last page?), "The book of 100 words," "Moby Dick," and "Jane Eyre."
  • You've begun to pretend with dolls.  Real babies used to make you nervous and you cried when they did.  Now, when Phoenix comes over and cries, you pat her arm and say "Mou-Mou."  You repeat this throughout the week with your dolls, but concerned about MouMou.  Your sweet spot has always been apparent, you are snuggler with a gentle soul.
  • You are so curious.  You love to watch me make coffee or brush your teeth with my sonic care or see what the heck I am always look at on my phone.
  • No matter how cranky or sad or upset our day becomes, it can always be reset by going outside.  Just the mention of it is enough to get your attention.
  • I marvel at how much you understand and how clearly you can already follow verbal instructions.
  • You love to water the plants.
  • You love to say "Abbey" and "kitty."
  • You are verbally aware, mimicking and repeating everything - and you recently impressed me with "applesauce."

Bowie Andromeda,
19 months old, January 2014

January 2014:

"Bowie's been so good at understanding directions.  Just now, I asked her to go find her books behind the couch.  She looked that way and went over there, found a plastic puzzle piece and brought it to me.  I then pointed at the puzzle under the other couch, saying "this goes with your puzzle under the settee" which she went to promptly.  It surprised me."

"Joel and I took B out to dinner.  She did so well.  She sat well while eating and ate a lot!  Suddenly she's a little girl - preferring ketchup and wiggles."


Bowie Andromeda
20 months old, February 2013

February 2013:

"I hear my husband speaking praises to Bowie as he gives her a bath.  I hear the shower gently pelting the bath water, a new routine of hers...to sit in the bath but run the shower.  Playing in warm rain.  Joel encouraging, laughing, instructing her..."what to relax?"  He holds her afloat in the water on her back.  She recently looked up at him intently and quietly whispered "Papa."

Sandhurst Co-Op Preschool
In February, you started Co-Op preschool.  I was nervous the first day because I wasn't sure you were ready for it socially.  But you stood in the middle of circle time and smiled at each and every mom and child there.  We went every Thursday morning until Summer came, and while you loved the 2.5 hours of singing, socializing, and especially snack - you fell asleep on the 10 min car ride home nearly every time.  If I had to venture a guess, I'd say the stimulation of people tends to exhaust you. Boy howdy, can I relate.


    Bowie Andromeda
    21 months old, March 2013

March 2014:

In March, I somewhat suddenly returned to work.  Once again, I was nervous about the transition and once again you reassured me with your secure attachment and resilience.  You loved your new nanny, Jenna, from the beginning and we are all doing much better for me being at work, despite the emotional wrenching I had to go through to leave you with someone I didn't know as well as I liked.  It was a very rough time for mamma, and I will spare you the pro/con list I made in my journal. 

Bowie Andromeda
22 months old, April 2013

April 2013:

"Bowie is fun lately.  My patience and ability to enjoy raising a toddler is grown and I like that feeling.  I bought her a chalkboard/magnet board and she loves it.  She recognizes the letters 'B' 'Q' and 'O.'  She knows shapes too.  Square, triangle, circle, diamond, and crescent (she calls it moon, of course).  She screams 'NO' a lot and dislikes sharing, so I'd say she's right on target.  She's insane about wanting to be outside these days. She says "ahsigh!" and looks for her alien rain boots.  She loves those boots*."

*see boots below
Bowie Andromeda
23 months old, May 2014

May 2014:

"I DO IT!"

"B is remarkable, we love raising her together.  She makes us continually proud.  I can see where she will struggle in life, but those ares of struggle are also gateways to her own soul, how she will know (and hopefully learn to love) herself.  I would be doing her a huge disservice to save her from struggle - if I even could."


Bowie Andromeda
24 months, June 2014

June 2014:

  • You have so many words, including 4-5 word sentences.  At your 18 month old appointment, the doctor asked how many words you had.  At that time, it was around 50.  I have now given up counting.  
  • You did the cutest thing a few months ago.  You have a mobile of planets above your bed, and we periodically review them with you.  You can identify 4 of them without hesitation, but back when you could only say 'earf,' you also asked to hold it.  The planets unhook from the string, so Daddy gave you the earth.  You demanded to sleep with it, and when we entered your room the next morning with you still sleeping, you had the earth tucked tightly up into the crux of your arm.  
  • You show a solid attachment to the people in your life. You love your aunts and uncles and know them all by name, often asking for them throughout the day.  
  • You love and hate loud noises, fascinated by them, but often comforting yourself against their intrusion, "It's okay, I got you, I'm right here."
  • You know all your colors, can count from 3-5, and did your first big job in the potty.  
  • Hearing you say "Andromeda" or "hellicopter" (budertopter) or calling me 'Candace'  or demanding to be naked is the cutest thing in the world.
I could go on and on for my interest and noticing of you. Perhaps every parent feels awed by their child, but what's truly remarkable is watching a human child develop in your care. It's the greatest experiment of our lives.


Love Forever and Always,
(I mean it. "Just try to get rid of me" as Grandma Denise used to say):

Mum
bowie andromeda growing up letters to the baby
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dear bowie :: 13 months ::





Dear Bowie:
I wonder if you will have a baby someday.  Oh, how I will want to rescue you from any pain such as pregnancies complications or labor or the general pain of being a human.  Pain is good, it teaches us (if we have the courage and have developed the ears to listen) to discover, to seek out what we could learn of ourselves through it.

When I professed Christianity, I believed that all trials and tribulations are given to us by God to purify us, to make us holy, to teach us.  He would keep teaching us and teaching us through these trials until we finally turned from vice and relinquished our sinful will to His perfect plan. I suppose the philosophy is somewhat similar to what I have described above, except for a key difference for me.  Pain has no origin, it simply a byproduct of biology.  It doesn't mean anything other than the meaning we ascribe to it.   It is necessary to bring forth life, both literally and figuratively.  Just like the birth of our solar system came from the explosion of a star (don't quote me on that fact, ask your Father). Additionally, I don't believe pain in itself has a purpose.  It just is. But we can infuse it with meaning if we allow ourselves to see the benefit, the life, the new growth, coming forth from tedious and unbearably painful labor.

Sometimes, a lot recently, I look into the depths of your face and feel so terrified and so sad.  I'm sad because suddenly you are changed from my baby, most likely my only baby, and I feel that I somehow missed this last year even though I was there.  I was lost in pain and fatigue and adjustments.  The only way I feel a grasp on the year is through, well...ART...of course.  Photography and writing.  I need these desperately as handles to hold the fleeting moments.   I'm scared because each day of your life, you separate from me and discover your own life - which I am here only to facilitate. Suddenly you are a teenager and hating authority.  Then you are driving away to your first year at college.  Then you move out permanently, then you travel, marry (or not).  Then you stop talking to me.  I'm scared because I remember before I knew my own mother was a person and was mean or rude or hurtful to her. I think about the time after discovering she was a person and all the analysis, criticism...remembering all too easily and flippantly her mistakes.  I will very shortly be treated to this same mother/daughter scrutinization, and I am scared of what you'll find that you simply don't like. I don't want to be under your microscope, but I don't think I can avoid it.  It's all fatalistic, I suppose...but fears always are.   And to be fair to me, I am a young mother.  Perhaps I will maturate in these views, but for now...I feel my heart quicken with fear.

For now, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction when you look to me for comfort from a nasty fall or cling to my knees for food I prepare you.  I search your eyes for preference or attachment and come up short, which means (of course) that I "did it" wrong since you seem to prefer me less and less. But what do I truly want for you?  To want and need me? Is that the goal?  No.  Is it to want and need only yourself? Not exactly.

My supreme desire is that you will know the safety net of me under your trapeze-act of life.  Knowing it as you "know" how to breath, eat, and pump blood throughout your body.  I want you to proceed with life in deep security.  My being there to catch you requires nothing of you, including your preference or approval.  A gorgeous, epic goal, no?

But I fear for me.  I will say it.  I'm selfish with my heart.  I like to protect it, and your existence threatens to break it daily.  I worry for my heart.  What if you never acknowledge my tremendous sacrifices, will my heart break?  I fear I cannot bear up under the thanklessness of motherhood.  I proceed with these years with a selfish hope that one day all I've done for you will hit you hard and you will call me and weep with gratitude.   Or perhaps more that the gratitude buoys your heart enough to pour into your own relationships...that you, unlike me, will arrive to others in abundance (not in a self-defeating deficit) of a love that knows, a love that is enough, a love that changes the very nature, meaning, and purpose of pain.

                                                             Always your
                                                                        
becoming a mother bowie andromeda letters to the baby
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Musings of a Mum: 1 year old



Dear Bowie Andromeda,
Last week, we celebrated the anniversary of your birth.  We aren't really thematic sorts of people (excepting one year I had a 20s Lawn Party, can't wait to tell you about it!), so we kept it simple by inviting friends and family to come eat Gma's and Aunt Niki's homemade pies.  We had some lovely cheeses and crudités topped with a refreshing chilled lemonade, wine, and beer. You did remarkably well for being both sick and off your normal nap schedule.





Last week also marked only the second time you have been sick in your little life.  I fear I don't really expose you to many places where you would share toys with other children.  You were so pathetic, and it broke our hearts.  A cold turned into a cough turned into a fever, and we grew worried.  Despite our assurances that you were fine, we took you to see the doctor anyway and she assured us further.  All we could do was try to make you comfortable.

Even in your misery, you are a tolerant, patient soul.  You were content to sit quietly in my lap and still slept remarkably well for being so congested.  I am impressed with you.

One year, one year.  I feel the pressure to tell you something profound, but really I just want to spend time contemplating and writing to your little soul.  How marvelous it must be to see the world through those clear blue eyes!

You see Gma and Gpa's expressions of sheer delight looking back at you.
You see Daddy's bounding step as he comes up the walkway at the end of his workday.
You see my arms as the ultimate place to be, and I welcome you, for this will last all too shortly.
You see the kitty nuzzling up to your little body, eager for your not-so-gentle strokes.
You see good, healthy food put before you each meal.
You see fascinating and stimulating toys, new and old, provided entirely for your enjoyment and education.
You see your living quarters, full of books and clothing, blankets and diapers, rocking chairs and photographs...all for you, my Bowie.
You see your pup Sancho as he licks your tasty face - with you both shocked and delighted.
You see your other pup Freyja as she protects you from afar, giving you space.
You see your other pup Abbey as she lays beside you languidly, happy to be pulled and tugged and fed from your highchair.
You see Red and Moonie in their colorful way, making deep eye-contact and adoring you.
You see Umber and BC always giving you bits of their food, always ready to let you crawl on them, always ready for your happy face.
You see Aunt Niki rushing over after work to get even a small glimpse of you, to see you grow and marvel at your beauty.

A child's life, provided it should be good and giving, is so seemingly easy.  All is catered to you, all is yours.  However, since we were all children once, I do believe we know it is anything but easy.  It isn't easy to be confronted with bodily pains as you grow or physical limitations incohesive to brain activity.  It is in no way easy to be unable to express your wants outside of grunting, screaming, and garbled speech. It is not easy to understand the items that can or cannot be touched in any given house.

So for you, growing child of mine, I seek to know my limitless compassion.  I have also the understanding that your life is very good and will catch you when your frustration teeters you off the tightrope of development.

May your gaze be ever inward.
May your fascination, ever upward.
Your pursuit of both, indefatigable.
For our souls are the cosmos
And our cosmos are the souls.

___________
Your Progress Report:

You are now an expert crawler, though I don't see you crawling much longer.  You love to stand and can even hold your own balance for 3-4 seconds, provided you don't realize you are standing unassisted.  I anticipate you walking sooner than later.  You don't particularly enjoy the feeling of grass on your knees, and yet you LOVE to be outdoors.  You therefore enjoy your version of a crab walk.

When you play inside, you actually like to just lay down and roll around, get up, stand up, lay down, roll around.  All in all, you are very chill.  You still enjoy taking any toy or item given you and raising it up over your head, behind your neck, and down behind your back.  It's comical.  Why do you do this?!

You now wave bye-bye.

You now say 'uh-oh' which I taught you one morning almost exactly as I taught cousin Clara.  For a few weeks, you said it all the time.  Now you seem to understand (all too well) it's meaning as you throw your cup down and look at me for confirmation of your word choice. "Yes, uh-oh indeed."

You also say 'ma-ma,' but feel it to be as yet indiscriminate. We are still working on baby signs so that you can express something other than ultimate frustration when you are done eating, when you want up, want down, or any other want in between.  You seem to be in a stage where you don't know what you want; you  cry when we hold you and cry when we put you down.  I can relate, child.  Don't worry.  You don't have to know what you want.

Quite remarkable to me is your new habit of playing with your ear and sucking your thumb.  You've sucked your thumb for 9 months, but the playing with the cartilage at the top of your left ear is entirely new.  This is crazy because that is exactly what I used to do!  Despite outgrowing thumbsucking (at age 10, much to my mother's chagrin),  I still play with my ear. How can this be genetic?!



You have this toothy grin that kills me.  You love to play independently, clap, and listen to singing.  If any music whatsoever is heard, you will move accordingly.  Dancer, perhaps?

You love cheese, I mean LOVE cheese.  You will eat anything, but if there is cheese on your plate, it's guaranteed to be the first item finished.  You also love watermelon and cheerios.  Oddly enough, you scarfed down ground taco meat, seasoned and everything.  You also love chicken curry. You had your first taste of Gma's pie, I do rather think you liked it despite your complete and utter meltdown at the birthday party.

[image courtesy of umberdove]
This month you got to meet your friend Allison and her lovely boy and husband.  You and Orion shared rather well, thank goodness...since you are nigh on betrothed.


Gma Mary also came to visit for your bday party.  Both Grandmas in one place! You loved hanging out with her, and Mum loved the help with a sick little lady!

We are all still getting to know each other in our new roles and new little person crawling loudly in the hall, and it's a happy place to be, this home of ours.
bowie andromeda bowie birthday letters to the baby
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Musings of a Mum: 11 months old









My dear child,
I have a few things I wanted to tell you about life.

First of all, I want you to know how much love was in our house before you came.  It's important to me that you keep in mind that your Dad and I were once children, college kids, newlyweds.  I need you to remember that we all start somewhere weak, feeble, wild, and young.  I want you to remember that we are first of all people, second of all husband/wife, and third - your parents.  That you understand your place in the family will inevitably lead to your deepest sense of security.   We were a family before you came, loving and safe.

Secondly, I want you to understand personal growth.

Yesterday, I read a passage in a memoir by Lidia Yuknavich about our former selves.  She was speaking about how her old troublesome youth-self was resistant to the new intellectual lady-self she had just discovered.  In fact, the embracing of this new self broke up her marriage.  I thought about how scary it is to evolve, about how there is zero guarantee that someone we were in the past will be compatible with who we are attempting to be in the future.  The life we construct in order to care for our past will no longer necessarily be conducive to our future.

It reminded me of the personal crisis of 2007, which in turn affected your dad.  I had started intense therapy and self-healing, and I realized that the structure of my marriage was such that Candace was broken, and Joel was the savior to her brokenness.  This was true, for many years.  His love undid much dysfunction and damage.  However, he had loved me into a new, healthy self.  This self didn't need saving by him anymore.  If Candace isn't in need of saving, how now was Joel to relate to me?  We figured it out, but it was so scary for a while.  We had no guarantees that we would remain compatible in that phase of personal growth.  I could have seriously wounded him, simply by my acceptance of a new Candace.  Many people can get hurt in the wake of personal evolution.

But many more can get hurt in the wake of the refusal to evolve.  If I had remained broken, I would have been, well...broken forever.  If my desire to remain married had trumped my desire to live an authentic, existentially happy life, I sincerely doubt my marriage or my person would have survived anyway.

The depression that belies the stubbornness to change is murderous.

People who walk this earth refusing to change out of fear, or those who steadfastly adhere to their stagnant ways, bad habits, dysfunctional relationships, narrow religious beliefs, marginalizing political stances, and who never even attempt to learn to like sushi, these people scare me.  Not because they never change, per say. They scare me because to refuse personal evolution is to refuse human nature.  (And how remarkable is evolution that we are sentient enough to choose something antithetical to our survival! Fascinating. But that is an entirely other topic).

A mother who manipulates her son with every breath for assurances of his love for her will never know the authenticity of his true love for her, and will continue to wound him and fuel the fire of her continued desperation to be love...and therefore manipulate more and more and more until there is no relationship left to manipulate.  Not unlike suicide or addictive behaviors, whenever a human recoils from that which is built into our DNA for survival...this is the ultimate tragedy.

What's worse is that this devolved person will be unintentionally hurting people.  At least when you accept responsibility for your changes, scary though they be, you are fully awake to them and who they may devastate. This is vastly better than flailing about life, wondering why everyone recoils from you...as you inflict pain with no awareness.

At the heart of any functioning human being is the ability to recognize erroneous directions and turn from it.  In essence, to say 'I am sorry' requires an understanding only evolved humans can embrace. Such as:

-"I am sorry I forgot to tell you about guy's night" - husband to me.
-"I am sorry I called you an idiot"- me to husband.
-"I am sorry I used to be flippant about human rights didn't exercise my own hard-fought-for right to vote" - me to feminism.
-"I am sorry that I used to care more about dogma than people" - me to the people.
-"I am sorry I used to hate your nose and called you nasty things behind your back" - me to self.

It's so hard to remember who we were, how lacking in compassion we used to be with people and ideas we now fully embrace. Even now, how we judge still what we are ignorant of! The only way to combat this is with education and a commitment to grow our souls.  This is scary, because as I said before, if we grow, we run the risk of outgrowing our old life, loves, selves.

That is to say, there will always be ignorance in ourselves to overcome, it's okay, be open and patient with it.  Once we feel we are fully enlightened, we couldn't be further from it.

"It is not easy to leave one self and embrace another.  Your freedoms will scar you.  Maybe even kill you.  Or one of your yous.  It's OK though. There are more." -Yuknavitch The Chronology of Water.

What does this have to do with me, you ask?  I'll tell you.

You of anyone I know have grown the most significantly this year.  When your father and I watch videos of you at 2, 4, or 6 months old, we both remark on how blob-like you seem compared to your animated self currently roaming our hallways.  You have no fear about becoming an upright, verbal, independent human being.  You were born to grow, born to struggle, born to fall so you can learn to walk. You don't fight it or fear that you will be unloved as you grow. You don't think of the battles you endured to gain weight as an infant or learn to sleep as a baby.  You simply take those old selves and wrap them into your new self and viola! Every day, a new Bowie.

I admire you for this; it's downright inspiring. You look up and decide to lift yourself on things you never saw before.  You fearlessly touch danger and never question your exploratory nature or judge yourself for your lack of progress.  

I suppose my point is this.  There are so many selves in one lifetime. Don't be afraid to let one go in favor of another. We don't need to be stingy with change.

And you, my dear, are a huge part of my current evolution.  You've given me new confidences in broken, shaken places.  You've taught me about difficult love, deep patience, and quick forgiveness. 

As far as I have dared explore the depths of my own soul, there my love for you has crept in.  You are everywhere inside of me.


PERSONALITY
This, perhaps more than any month thus far, I feel like you've cast off your baby self and become something so much more child-like.  This may be due to your will exerting itself more. I have to say that it's oddly adorable (depending on how much sleep I've had) when you display your, ahem, preferences.  You hate to have your diaper or clothes changed, and will cry like someone is sticking a needle in your eye...until I hand you any kind of distraction (remote control, lotion bottle, diaper cream tube) and you are rather suddenly sunshine-y once again. Ah, the bipolarity of babies.

Due to crawling, your personality has begun to blossom like all the spring flowers I stuff into your face to smell (which more looks like you licking them, but no matter). You have so many more opinions about things, so many more curiosities! Plants! Glass-wear! Outlets! Computer cords!  You always look back at me when I say no and you turn to your name and the pss-ch-ch of my family.  Joel and I have worked on trying to give you options instead of negating behaviors.  So, if you are standing in the bathtub, I try to say  "We sit in the tub" instead of "Sit down!".  Not sure why, but I read it somewhere and it feels more positive than always saying no, which I now exclaim no less than 30 times daily.

I admit I dreaded your crawling because it would inevitably mean more work for me, but I have to say that I am adjusting.  In the mornings, I used to set you down on your little play mat for independent time while I made coffee and wrote.  Now, I can only sit on the floor and play with you, and though it's more work, it's a nice new time to have together. I wake up slowly, sitting with you on the floor while you crawl circles around me.  That being said, I am happy that you still enjoy your bouncer so that I can at least go to the bathroom alone.

Every time any one of your fans walks into your presence, you grin like a fool.  Your toothy smile is so pure and easy to come by, even if you are in the middle of crying.  

DEVELOPMENT
You love to feed yourself, especially little cubes of cheese or shreds of turkey deli meat.  You are happy eating puffs (a newly-invented food since I was a child) and Cheerios.  You love your sippy cup and any other self-feeding receptacle.

You've begun to pull yourself up on coffee tables and couches, and love to play in the kitchen while I cook. You are ever so content banging spatulas against metal bowls.

You love to clap and sing. "Patty-Cake" is your newest favorite.

SLEEP
Sleep has been tricky this month, due to the crawling. It's hard to keep remembering that lessons must be taught to you over and over.  We went through sleep training once, and I think I assumed it would be the end of it.  As it turns out, with each new skill you'll go through a wonder week where you'll want to practice this skill 24/7...including in your sleep.  A few nights ago, you were crying and Dad went in to check your diaper.  You were on all fours, dead asleep, totally crying.  He picked you up and you stayed asleep, but were crying.  It's terribly, painfully cute. Since we had to assist you to sleep more than normal for the month, we have had to retrain you the last several nights...which means more crying than your usual none before bed and nap times.

OUTINGS AND EVENTS
Mother's Day - the very day you decided to crawl!  I was sleeping in and Dad caught it on video.  He then came in with you and woke me up to show me.  We are so proud.  Honestly, ever since then, we've both thought you look so grown up!


Meeting Kristen, who visited from Chicago. You loved your Asian.  When she woke up in the morning and came out of her room singing, you would stare at her deadpan for quite a while, but after a few days of that, she won your heart.  It seems to take you a while to warm up to people, which I completely understand.

Sunshine! We've enjoyed The Edible Plant Sale and a BBQ here at home, all with plenty of puppies and people to keep your attention for hours.  


Please keep your cheeks.  Thank you.
bowie andromeda evolution letters to the baby
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