Yesterday I was super excited to go to lunch with a girl I went to school with 14 years ago. I was bringing Lorenzo with me, and was going to meet her two little kiddos at Nordstrom's bistro. I put Lorenzo in the Orbit car seat, and as usual, he was smiling and cooing. After latching him in, I swiveled the car seat, putting it in the proper position, and he started crying! One of those intense, how-could-you-do-this-to-me-save-me-right-now cries. I thought immediately, "Oh God! I pinched him with one of the belts without noticing, or his foot is caught somewhere." So I swiveled him back towards me and he calmed down. I checked everything, he was fine. I smiled and said, "Ok, let's go!" And... same scene. I was already late but I am so against ignoring babies' cries that I took him out, went back in the house and nursed him. I never forget to feed him, but I thought maybe he's incredibly hungry all of a sudden. Well, he whimpered the entire time he nursed. I calmed him down and started all over again. Got his coat on, got in the car, latched him in... WUAAAAAAAAA!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!! Okay, I just finished saying I don't ignore babies, but I wasn't about to ditch my friend who was already waiting for me. I figured he'd calm down as soon as I turned on the engine. Sometimes he whimpers (never wails), and as soon as I start the car he relaxes and enjoys the view from the windows. Not this time, Mamma!!! I turned to my trusty YouTube app and started playing his favorite Italian songs, and sang them out loud. Really loud. He cried over my singing! It lasted for only 5 minutes before he started relaxing... It was a really short trip to Nordstrom, 10 minutes. By the time I got there he was almost asleep. Oh, gosh! I felt so guilty waking him up to put him in the stroller! (He's in a toddler car seat that is too heavy to lift and put on the stroller, so I have to transfer him every time.) Well, lunch was fun, it was great to see this girl and to meet her kids. I was a little stressed from before and Lorenzo was a bit whiny but nothing impossible for me to handle, of course. Well, after an hour or so we got the kids balloons and then went our separate ways. And well, guess what... LORENZO COULD NOT STAND THE CAR SEAT. Wailed again for like 5 more minutes. And fell asleep before I got home... ugh! I had to wake him up of course. Only this time he didn't go back to sleep when I nursed him in bed. He was chipper and wanted to play. Took me an hour and a half to get him to nap. That's okay. But my real concern is this new anticarseatism he's exhibiting.
Today I wanted to go to the park. I was like Oh God, he'll fight me again. Oh, shut up and just try it. You can't stay in the house the rest of your life. "Maybe he was having a bad day," my friend rightfully suggested. I agreed and tried again... I told him, "Lorenzo, if you do'nt want to, we don't have to." Well, he took me up on that offer! I was smiling and talking to him as I strapped him in, and he was starting to whimper a bit, but nothing out of the ordinary. And as if on cue, I swiveled him around (gently)... squinty-eyes-frowning-face... wuuuaaaaaaaa!!! So deeply offended. I brought him back towards me and said, "What's wrong, baby? Come on, let's go!" I thought he didn't want to see his reflection anymore for some reason, so I removed the mirror... Take 2. Nothing. Complete failure. "Okay, let's go back in."
I am so frustrated! And pissed. And sad, and disappointed in the situation. I hate not knowing what is going on. What happened? Why this unexpected change of heart? Is it over now? Will he forever feel like he's being punished when I put him in the car seat??? (No, I do not punish him, so I don't really know if he knows what being punished feels like.)
Happen to any of you other mammas out there?
-mamma cri
Friday, March 7, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Pilot life, a brief look
Before I begin, I would like to provide some context by sharing my emotional situation:
I am currently in conflict between the idea that experiencing different things means living different lives, and the idea that just because we experience different things, does not mean we are disconnected; in fact, we are very connected, even if not geographically. On my good days, it is our life, because we are in the same situation and are fighting for the same goal. On my bad days, I'm very your life/my life.
I really miss Stefano a lot when he goes. Even before he steps out the door. These past 6 days were a blessing. My husband was able to stay here in Seattle for THAT long before going back to his base: Miami. He usually stays here 3 days and goes to Miami for 5. But his schedule always changes, especially as the month changes; there tend to be overlaps, or if he has just 1 day off, he stays in Miami because it makes no sense to do MIA-SEA and then leave the next day.
Here's what a typical 3-day-stay at home is like for him (from my perspective): he flies American Airlines, which has only one direct Miami to Seattle flight per day. It is a 6 and a half hour flight, and lands in Seattle at 8:50 at night. By the time he comes home it is often almost 10 o'clock. Our son, who is almost 8 months old, is usually asleep by then, so they see each other the next morning when we are all awake. Hubby sleeps on the couch (by his choice) and baby and I sleep in bed. Stefano usually wakes between 5 and 7 in the morning, thanks to jet lag or Lupa, our dog, waking him up with her whines and wet nose in his ear. Stefano is no couch potato or homebody and when he's up, he is cooking, cleaning, running errands, asking me, "What do you wanna do today? Where do you wanna go?" He starts to crash around noon, feels better after lunch, and re-crashes around 5. By the time we are done with dinner, he is ready to go to sleep but tries hard to stay awake at least until baby falls asleep, in case I need anything.
By the third day, he is pretty well-adjusted, but that same night he flies back to Miami on a red-eye, arriving there around 6 in the morning.
It is hard on him, physically, and hard on me emotionally. The fewer days he stays here the easier it is to handle when he leaves again. And, predictably, the longer he stays, the more difficult it is to let him go. So far, baby knows that he is leaving but because he spends most of the time with me, he doesn't cry. I know he will as he gets older.
-I'm sorry, but... why do you live on opposite sides of the country? Can't you move to Miami? Or can't he find a pilot job in Seattle?-
Right? Totally get how it seems so obvious to those who don't know the whole story. If you are wondering, ask me, and if I get enough curious beings, I will elaborate with a new post.
I am currently in conflict between the idea that experiencing different things means living different lives, and the idea that just because we experience different things, does not mean we are disconnected; in fact, we are very connected, even if not geographically. On my good days, it is our life, because we are in the same situation and are fighting for the same goal. On my bad days, I'm very your life/my life.
I really miss Stefano a lot when he goes. Even before he steps out the door. These past 6 days were a blessing. My husband was able to stay here in Seattle for THAT long before going back to his base: Miami. He usually stays here 3 days and goes to Miami for 5. But his schedule always changes, especially as the month changes; there tend to be overlaps, or if he has just 1 day off, he stays in Miami because it makes no sense to do MIA-SEA and then leave the next day.
Here's what a typical 3-day-stay at home is like for him (from my perspective): he flies American Airlines, which has only one direct Miami to Seattle flight per day. It is a 6 and a half hour flight, and lands in Seattle at 8:50 at night. By the time he comes home it is often almost 10 o'clock. Our son, who is almost 8 months old, is usually asleep by then, so they see each other the next morning when we are all awake. Hubby sleeps on the couch (by his choice) and baby and I sleep in bed. Stefano usually wakes between 5 and 7 in the morning, thanks to jet lag or Lupa, our dog, waking him up with her whines and wet nose in his ear. Stefano is no couch potato or homebody and when he's up, he is cooking, cleaning, running errands, asking me, "What do you wanna do today? Where do you wanna go?" He starts to crash around noon, feels better after lunch, and re-crashes around 5. By the time we are done with dinner, he is ready to go to sleep but tries hard to stay awake at least until baby falls asleep, in case I need anything.
By the third day, he is pretty well-adjusted, but that same night he flies back to Miami on a red-eye, arriving there around 6 in the morning.
It is hard on him, physically, and hard on me emotionally. The fewer days he stays here the easier it is to handle when he leaves again. And, predictably, the longer he stays, the more difficult it is to let him go. So far, baby knows that he is leaving but because he spends most of the time with me, he doesn't cry. I know he will as he gets older.
-I'm sorry, but... why do you live on opposite sides of the country? Can't you move to Miami? Or can't he find a pilot job in Seattle?-
Right? Totally get how it seems so obvious to those who don't know the whole story. If you are wondering, ask me, and if I get enough curious beings, I will elaborate with a new post.
So, I miss him. He misses me and Lorenzo. But we tough it out because even though it SUCKS a lot of the time, this is what works for now. We live like this because we know it is temporary. We are fighting for our ideal situation, and it is already beginning to take shape. I firmly believe in the power of dreams as long as you act upon them. For now our lives are somewhere between airports, clouds and a little bit of earth. This is our adventure, these are our struggles, and with each small triumph we get closer to the main goal: stability, in every sense of the word.
Ode to an angel I've never met
Quietly reading this article in bed while Lorenzo sleeps... Overwhelmed with grief and in awe, all I hear are my sobs and silent prayers for this angel and his family.
I don't know how it works, but I imagine that your soul was sent to Earth on a mission. Mission for what? I don't know. Especially for your family but for those of us who learn your story too. You pulled at my heart and I am praying for you. And for your brave mom who carried you to term even when she was given the choice to stop the growth of your creation as a human being. I hope you felt your family's love, your mother's skin and her warm breath. I, too, love you, Grayson. Thank you for being so brave. There are very few like you. I'm glad you are in heaven again, where you are watching over your family. I cannot imagine the depth of your loss your family will bear forever. There will never be a day that goes by without them remembering your time here, imagining you in heaven, and wanting to meet you again. You are loved, little one. I hope you are playing with other angels. God bless you so much. Thank you for being a part of this Universe.
-mamma cri
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Douchebag alert: I trusted a professional and this is what I got
A f*cked up conversation that should have never happened but not everyone is super awesome, unfortunately.
I went to the chiropractor yesterday, and considered it "Step 2" of climbing out of my mud hole of depression. Step 1 was getting my hair cut the day before, nothing I really raved about because the change was not very drastic, which made me feel rather underwhelmed. Until, however, I read my December horoscope by Susan Miller (yes, I read it a little late), in which she said to wait until after January for major changes (including plastic surgery - not that I am interested, but I was definitely tickled by reading that) because of something that had to do with Venus in retrograde that I can't remember. After reading that I felt relieved: I'm glad I didn't mess with the goddess of beauty while she slept.
Anyway, I waited thirty minutes to be seen. That itself was annoying enough. When it was finally my turn, Dr. D-bag visited me for just five minutes. In that little amount of time, this insensitive, perplexing conversation took place:
"I'm a little depressed recently. I'm just physically and spiritually exhausted. So I am looking forward to a full adjustment today. I think it'll help me feel better."
"Yeah, sure. Are you taking fish oils?"
"Yes, and Vitamins D and B."
"That's good. You know those mothers who go crazy and kill their kids? Turns out they had zero Omega-3's in their system."
I distinctly remember my mouth dropping, and replied, "Those women are actually CRAZY. It's not because they weren't taking fish oils...".
"Oh, I wasn't trying to insinuate anything..." he trailed off into one of those laughs that just turn into more empty words.
So, what I wanted to say, but unfortunately didn't because I don't have the think-on-your-feet-skills that I really need to work on, was:
"Thanks, asshole, for insinuating that I have the potential to do the unthinkable."
(Oh, and by the way, he worked on my back and neck. That is NOT a full adjustment. I needed much much more. But he was busy judging me, taking pity on me, and wanting to RESCUE me from myself. Ma vai a cagare. Italian meaning: "Go take a shit," which, as you can imagine, is the equivalent of "Go to hell".)
Sadly, in my quest to feel better by putting myself in the hands of experts, I was disappointed. However, douchebaggery won't stop me from "keepin' on".
Monday, December 30, 2013
Nike
I just googled "mom blogs" and found a site called topmommyblogs.com, where you can find an extensive list of the most popular mom blogs. The categories, too, are vast. I clicked through a few and was immediately overwhelmed by the amount of content. Then a little voice in my head said, "Stop. You think this will inspire you for your new blog project but it will only distract you..."
You know when you research one thing and then get so tangled up in tiny details that you forget what you were looking for in the first place? Yeah, that. And for me, that means that by the time I'm lost in a labyrinth of material, my baby will be awake and need me, which means I have to put off even longer any writing in my own blog. And I also get really intimidated, so I told myself to close those blogs, open mine up and just write. Professors, my mom, and my friends have been telling me for years, "JUST WRITE. STOP THINKING!" Well... I couldn't let go of my "thinking" for the longest time, so I kept everything in and never wrote.
So, I gotta say, this feels good.
What's up with "Nike"? I wanted to entitle this "Just do it" but that sounded cheesy. So, to be even cheesier, perhaps painfully, I decided to use a pun instead. Ouch.
-mamma cri
You know when you research one thing and then get so tangled up in tiny details that you forget what you were looking for in the first place? Yeah, that. And for me, that means that by the time I'm lost in a labyrinth of material, my baby will be awake and need me, which means I have to put off even longer any writing in my own blog. And I also get really intimidated, so I told myself to close those blogs, open mine up and just write. Professors, my mom, and my friends have been telling me for years, "JUST WRITE. STOP THINKING!" Well... I couldn't let go of my "thinking" for the longest time, so I kept everything in and never wrote.
So, I gotta say, this feels good.
What's up with "Nike"? I wanted to entitle this "Just do it" but that sounded cheesy. So, to be even cheesier, perhaps painfully, I decided to use a pun instead. Ouch.
-mamma cri
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Hearts are enormous things
I'm at a time in my life where my heart is heavy and tiny.
It should feel light and huge because my son is my number one joy. He is a blessing and a light that shines infinitely.
Yet here I am, fighting for love. Fighting for fairness. Fighting for spiritual and emotional recognition and togetherness. I keep hitting a wall. And losing hope, for the first time in my life. I am losing hope.
I am also being judged by the very LAST people who should be judging me, on the fact that I am choosing to raise my son at home, and not send him to daycare. I'm struggling to create economic stability but why does that mean I need to throw my kid in daycare so that I can go to work? What I am choosing for my child is what is best for him according to ME. And I have to be judged and feel ashamed? NO. I've had enough of that. I am DONE suffering at the hands of others and what they think is right because of their own insecurities.
When I see pictures of myself lately, I think, "Who is that person? That is not me." That is not my hair. That is not my skin. That is not my mouth, those are not my eyes. Who is that sad, dull person? Where is her light? Where did it go? I have lost myself.
Physically strained, emotionally scarred, spiritually confused and mentally fucked. That is who I am now. Focus, focus on the positive. Focus on my only joy, my son, who is perfect and more than I could have ever asked for. I can do this. But I will not accept being insulted, torn down, pushed around. I am raising not only a human being, but MY son. My husband and I made him. I grew him. I birthed him. I am nurturing him. I feed him, I clean him, I play with him, I sing to him, I laugh with him, I talk with him. He cannot live without me, and I without him.
How can I let him see me in constant pain? How can I let him feel the tension that clouds up my days and makes his mommy irritable, foggy, and completely inconsistent with her emotions?
All I know is that hearts are enormous things. Despite the fact that they function at full capacity only on love and love alone, we choose to shove in darkness and pain, too. Our hearts hurt, and we continue thinking that the harder they get the stronger we become. How backwards. Our hearts continue to shrink and expand, shrink and expand. Well, I'm done having a shriveled heart that beats at less than 100% because it's turning into stone. That does not make me strong. It makes me weak, in fact. This is the weakest I have ever felt in my life. Some of the people around me who should be filled with joy are filled with jealousy, hatred and disrespect, and they are hammering me and my family to a pulp. I am weak and I refuse to get any weaker. What I want for myself and for my son is a heart made of bright blood, infinitely expanding with love for my son, for my family, for my friends, for myself. That is a strong heart. Generosity, compassion, joy and empathy... are the signs of love. Spite, resentment, neglect and ignorance (literally, ignoring things)... are signs of hate. Those are the things that shred a person to pieces and tear apart relationships and families. Like my mother promised herself when she was only 10 years old, I will build my family on the foundation of love.
I love you, little L. I will always fight for your joy and your serenity.
-mamma cri
It should feel light and huge because my son is my number one joy. He is a blessing and a light that shines infinitely.
Yet here I am, fighting for love. Fighting for fairness. Fighting for spiritual and emotional recognition and togetherness. I keep hitting a wall. And losing hope, for the first time in my life. I am losing hope.
I am also being judged by the very LAST people who should be judging me, on the fact that I am choosing to raise my son at home, and not send him to daycare. I'm struggling to create economic stability but why does that mean I need to throw my kid in daycare so that I can go to work? What I am choosing for my child is what is best for him according to ME. And I have to be judged and feel ashamed? NO. I've had enough of that. I am DONE suffering at the hands of others and what they think is right because of their own insecurities.
When I see pictures of myself lately, I think, "Who is that person? That is not me." That is not my hair. That is not my skin. That is not my mouth, those are not my eyes. Who is that sad, dull person? Where is her light? Where did it go? I have lost myself.
Physically strained, emotionally scarred, spiritually confused and mentally fucked. That is who I am now. Focus, focus on the positive. Focus on my only joy, my son, who is perfect and more than I could have ever asked for. I can do this. But I will not accept being insulted, torn down, pushed around. I am raising not only a human being, but MY son. My husband and I made him. I grew him. I birthed him. I am nurturing him. I feed him, I clean him, I play with him, I sing to him, I laugh with him, I talk with him. He cannot live without me, and I without him.
How can I let him see me in constant pain? How can I let him feel the tension that clouds up my days and makes his mommy irritable, foggy, and completely inconsistent with her emotions?
All I know is that hearts are enormous things. Despite the fact that they function at full capacity only on love and love alone, we choose to shove in darkness and pain, too. Our hearts hurt, and we continue thinking that the harder they get the stronger we become. How backwards. Our hearts continue to shrink and expand, shrink and expand. Well, I'm done having a shriveled heart that beats at less than 100% because it's turning into stone. That does not make me strong. It makes me weak, in fact. This is the weakest I have ever felt in my life. Some of the people around me who should be filled with joy are filled with jealousy, hatred and disrespect, and they are hammering me and my family to a pulp. I am weak and I refuse to get any weaker. What I want for myself and for my son is a heart made of bright blood, infinitely expanding with love for my son, for my family, for my friends, for myself. That is a strong heart. Generosity, compassion, joy and empathy... are the signs of love. Spite, resentment, neglect and ignorance (literally, ignoring things)... are signs of hate. Those are the things that shred a person to pieces and tear apart relationships and families. Like my mother promised herself when she was only 10 years old, I will build my family on the foundation of love.
I love you, little L. I will always fight for your joy and your serenity.
-mamma cri
Thursday, September 22, 2011
I am feeling some crazy energy
Starting yesterday and continuing today the Pacific Northwest tosses around strong winds that lift my hair unforgivingly enough to the point where I choose to give up the fight that started with my dog-walking, leash-dirty hands that frantically attempted to regroup frizzed-out strands.
I am sad, I think. The warmth and the overcast sky cast me into a romantic state of nothingness. I feel so alone yet so in-tuned with the earthly surroundings. Or do I feel exactly the opposite? This weather is for the lonely, it seems. Yet I can't help but crave sharing it with someone who would feel similarly.
On off-white days like these a photographer could not be happier; the lighting is perfect.
I just spoke with a genius friend of mine who also feels "weather-weird". No one could have put it in better words:
"Fall hit me like a ton of bricks, and it's making me feel extremely nostalgic and emotionally snuggly, yet also hopeful and impatient for the future. It's a strange combination."
I don't know that I would have arrived to that conclusion by the end of this post, so thank you, Catherine!
For me, fall hit in a peculiar manner. I spent the last month of summer in extremely hot temperatures (100+ F, 44+ C). I was waiting all summer for hot weather and experienced it rather late. Now I'm back in Seattle and anyway, every time I'm back here, life slows to a halt.
I feel exactly what Catherine bravely described: nostalgic (SO nostalgic), yet optimistic and crazy impatient for the future, like the infant Aries soul I am.
I am sad, I think. The warmth and the overcast sky cast me into a romantic state of nothingness. I feel so alone yet so in-tuned with the earthly surroundings. Or do I feel exactly the opposite? This weather is for the lonely, it seems. Yet I can't help but crave sharing it with someone who would feel similarly.
On off-white days like these a photographer could not be happier; the lighting is perfect.
I just spoke with a genius friend of mine who also feels "weather-weird". No one could have put it in better words:
"Fall hit me like a ton of bricks, and it's making me feel extremely nostalgic and emotionally snuggly, yet also hopeful and impatient for the future. It's a strange combination."
I don't know that I would have arrived to that conclusion by the end of this post, so thank you, Catherine!
For me, fall hit in a peculiar manner. I spent the last month of summer in extremely hot temperatures (100+ F, 44+ C). I was waiting all summer for hot weather and experienced it rather late. Now I'm back in Seattle and anyway, every time I'm back here, life slows to a halt.
I feel exactly what Catherine bravely described: nostalgic (SO nostalgic), yet optimistic and crazy impatient for the future, like the infant Aries soul I am.
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