Elaine on Seinfeld, Rhythm, and Motherhood

              I thought I would wait to pen this until after my post Halloween sugar high. But here I am, alone for a few minutes on a Monday morning. The little goblins are still asleep. Insert wicked witchy laugh here.
            I have been thinking a lot about rhythm, routine, and being a mother. Some of the blogs I follow are written by mamas who subscribe to a more Waldorf type of education style. Within this tradition, there is a lot of emphasis on having a natural rhythm in your household and routine. Well, I am working on it folks. I have to say that this one area that has never been easy for me, For I have rhythm, both dance and otherwise, like Elaine on "Seinfeld" did.. I feel like I am constantly on the end of pushing myself to the outer limits, like some whacked out space creature. For me, it seems it's always what else can I squeeze into the day, the hour. etc.. etc. At times  it leaves me feeling high and dry, Other times the more I do, th better I feel. Ugh!  With a newborn in the house, this same old feeling has come back doubly or triply hard. I need some medium ground, but can't seem to see it in the moment. Any tips on natural rhythm that work for you?   I will take dance tips too. 

Nearly three months later, do I spot normalcy on the horizon?

               Of course those who know me will laugh like I do when I say normalcy. You're talking to the woman who owned a fish purse in high school and would do a lot for another one.  While I do not claim to have it down pat, at this gentle moment, in this late hour or early hour of the new day, I will say things continue to feel a little more normal each week. The cricket and the wildflowers and I do our thing. Now we will add school to the mix and see what type of potpourri our lives look like.
        Speaking of school, mercy I don't want to see summer end. The summer of 2011 will forever be noted by the sounds of a baby, the blur of July, the whiz of two beautiful little girls growing up before me and off on their bikes and their fairy wings to swim, play, and make adventures up.I am having a really hard time letting go of this at the moment. The summer already has the feel of  a worn,yellowed photograph that is so known and looked at because of how much it changed our lives and because of the transition point  I know it will mark in the years to come. My baby girls start preschool and second grade today.  The sweet babe now coos and smiles, though just born what seems like minutes ago. As I go off to bed I gratefully ponder these changes and marvel at our lives. I am blessed...

When the supermom cape is off -two months later

           I sometimes feel like supermom emerges in the shower in the morning. Before it, I am a blurry eyed woman, much in need of coffee, and half responding to the world around me. As I go into what is equivalent to a phone booth for this supermom, I ready myself for whatever crisis is about to come upon the household or whatever adventure.
        My cape is well used and is sometimes fraying in the back. Sometimes it's terribly wrinkled, stained, and faded. Sometimes it's dazzling and magnificent. There comes a time in the day when the supermom cape goes off and I join my fellow supermoms for that magical time when I return to being just me while the children sleep. The problem comes when I can't see beyond my masked disguise and that woman I am outside my supermom role is blurry. Sometimes I have no idea how to leave Gotham City or the cave. Sometimes, I just fall asleep and the cape is still on me, yet I am on the ground with no means of flight. I am somewhere between being adjusted to all the changes in our life and just somewhere.
     But I guess my cryptonite is increased sleep and setting up somewhat of a routine. Or perhaps it is gaining more of a flexibility in attitude and rolling with things more easily. But there are so many battles and fires to put out. There are meltdowns to take care of and hunger pains to calm. There are little people with desperate cries for help.There is trying to figure out how to find time with Superman.  Motherhood certainly is a warped speed.So I go inward and try to figure it out, but you can bet I'll be flying around tomorrow.

One Month Later

            I am not sure who penned the famous quote about writing to experience life twice. In joy or in sorrow, I know that writing has always allowed me that privilege. Today, well really yesterday already, I mark Patrick's one month birthday.  To write, right now, is to experience the sheer joy, once again of the little cricket's birth. It is to remember the tiniest and  most extraordinary detail of the early morning he was born, as spring was becoming summer and our family grew to five. The little boy I was sure I was carrying came quickly into the world after three hours of some serious back labor. It was a labor so different than my girls, perhaps reminding me in a big way of the new sensation, phenomenon, I was  to experience with adding a boy to our midst.  Surrounded by some extraordinary women:  Ceil- my friend, midwife, nursepractioner. her student Dawn ,who will be as incredible as Ceil is in her futue practice, my mother, my sister, our friend Ann, and my husband, I found my own strength through their strength, to deliver our beautiful boy. 

            In meeting Patrick, I was immediately struck by his resemblance to our oldest, Allison, and how he had the presence of an old soul. If our son resembled Allison, he certainly resembled my husband. As I marveled at him, I wondered about his place in our family and his personality. I thought about odd things like who the women he would date would be like after having two big sisters. I wondered how his sisters would take to him. To see them meet their little brother for the first time was one of the most tender moments of my life. I will never forget their expressions at seeing them meet him and then seeing them for the first time after being away from them like I was, Their level of concern in their little faces was precious and priceless.
       So a month later we continue to adjust in our daily lives to the rhythm of a newborn. But certainly there is not a more beautiful song....

"Beast Mothers"

      So my oldest is learning to spell and sometimes, it just doesn't come out right. Or does it?  After getting into some trouble this morning, she and her little sister decided to make cards for their mama. My guess is that they were worried their trip to Darien Lake would be off if some major buttering up didn't occur. She told me she and her younger sister were going to throw me a party, but did the cards instead.  So, I open it:


             Here are some flowers for the beast mother.  I love you!

Wishing all my fellow beast mothers flowers and these funny thoughts!

Blessings,

Nicole

"It's the botttom of the 9th and other cliches that hold and do not hold truth"

                  Little Seamus or Fionna will soon appear. Are we ready? In some ways, I feel like that person who forgot their favorite bat. They might not have everything in order, but they will do the best they can with the skills and talent that they have. After seven years of being a mother, I would hope all the baby stuff comes back. Yet why do I feel  like such a rookie all of a sudden?
                It will feel like old hat, having a baby again.  Will it? Many of my old hats are stretched out and worn out. I am afraid of that. Two kids later- worn and worn out  definitely  describe how I feel on a bad day.
        Going from two to three is cake walk, compared to going from one to two. Again,  I go back to the rookie and worn out sensation.  What is a cake walk anyway?
           You will forget about the child birth pain and remember the joy of having the baby.  Really? Right now I am worried about the pain and the time it will take to deliver. Rachel was epidural free and a much easier birth compared to Ally, who I had an epidural with and a much more difficult labor. Yet I think drugs right now!! Drugs!
           You will find your way and a new normal. I still struggle with finding my way with my little ones. Normal seems to change by the week.
            There's nothing to fear but fear itself. There's a whole lot to fear. I am really good at finding it

Excuse me everyone, I am just having some jitters and anxious thoughts. Please wish me well and pray for a healthy baby and a healthy, quick, and safe delivey.




           


                

We've been invaded by merry maids and other facts and fiction

           It's been forever since I have last blogged. It seems that a few things have been getting in the way. I'll start with that it's week 27 of my pregnancy. Somehow, I didn't feel as whipped as I do now, as with my first two. Being that much older and common sense prevailing, it makes sense. At night, when I most often blog, I often succumb to me bed, couch, or arm chair. Okay and then there is that book I couldn't put down. If you like historical fiction like I do, I highly recommend Ken Follett's latest:  The Fall of Giants book one of a new trilogy. It's main characters, including one who is from a fictionalized old money Buffalo family, will captivate and intrigue you, as World War I unfolds.Did I mention the gremlins, I mean hormones, that have taken over my body certain days of the week? In striving to keep my composure the days those beasty things are out of whack, that has been enough of a task.  Then there was the food poisoning, the encore presentation of the stomach bugs, as Rachel calls them. After a fantastic night out with some friends, Mike and I got food poisoning. A call to the establishment we visited was quite humorous. The person told me to ask for Guy next time I was in and for my troubles a drink would be on the house. First of all, the said place will not be revisited. Secondly, all the Harps and red wine in the world will not bring this post, have given birth mama to, the place again for their grub or a drink. This occurred at the end of the week that Ally had a stomach virus. You know how it goes with kids, they bounce back in a few days.But all the late nights, worries, etc wipe mama out for the week or more.

Crying and whining aside, our house, I mean castle in our girls' eyes, has been taken over by Irish dancers and princesses. The girls were captivated by the Irish dancers we saw at the Valley Community Center in the old First Ward last weekend, particularly their curly wigs and beautiful dresses. I'd love to see them learn this type ofdance and more about their Irish roots. Between Mike and I, namely Mike, the girls have the United Nations in their blood. Princesses are also abounding.  Rachel no longer wants to be called by her name. She prefers Ariel or Cinderella. She told me she would like to study to be a princess in college. Allison would like to be Belle, continue to study horse training in college, but be a princess. As Barbie meets princess, meets questions about earthquakes and Mother Theresa ( a typical week of questions in the household of wildflowers), I strive to instill the importance of beauty being most important on the inside. Little girl fantasy is alive and well and to be tempered, as needed, I guess.

And the random. We are trying some experiments in being gluten free. Thankfully, it's not by necessity, but by choice. We're hoping that a few Kelly's might have happier guts. It never ceases to amaze me the wealth
 of information online and in a room full of people when it comes to an issue like this and a shared experience. The recipe I've been using for bread has been okay. I am still doing a whole lot of experimenting.

I've been having some Braxton Hicks contractions all week. While everything I know and read says it's nothing, it gets me wondering about an earlier due date than anticipated.

With all that in mind, I do wish we had been invaded by the merry maids and that there was nary a thing more to do until the baby was born around our palace. Daydreaming aside, with much to prepare, many questions to answer, and a baby ready to burst on the scene, happy spring my lads and lasses!

Hope Springs Eternal

Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always To be Blest.  Alexander Pope

 

 

             This is just one of those days to feel very sanguine. The sun is brilliant. The mood is right. Or perhaps all the Valentine's Day candy is still coursing through my blood. 

              No, I am  feeling enormously grateful and blessed. I know Valentine's Day everyday with my loving guy and my loving, lovely little girls. We have the normal ups and downs, but I know steadfast love. The flutter of hope springing eternal kicks in my belly, filling me with expectation and wonder.

            I am feeling energized. I had to go on a college campus for an article I am writing. For me, there is nothing more full of hope than the dreams of youth and seeing young people work towards their dream, believing without doubt that anything is possible. The group of international students I met today was nothing short of awe inspiring, so far away from home, pursuing their education and goals.

           I am feeling proud. Our oldest has become a reader. As she talks about our becoming an artist and an author, an then maybe still a horse trainer, she is growing up before our eyes.

            I am feeling joy. As I watch our oldest and our youngest in her full princess regalia  and wide eye innocence tonight, I am reminded of what a gift our children are.

           I think this is just my way of saying thank you right now.

 

              

 

 

"Going Batty or Otherwise Titled ,Blog Post Ideas that Literally Fly Before You"

            So there we were minding our own business, doing the Kelly bedtime routine. Prayers said, stories read, time to get into ....then like a bat out of hell there was a bat out of hell flying around our loft room. Can I say deja vu?
           We have had other bats before. In summer time, screen doors have been left open and bats have found their way in. I think we just had the global warming bat,  that thought it's summer or something, because the thermometer went over 30 degrees today for several hours.
            We have had other creatures before. Birds have flown into our house. We've had the odd chipmunk or two make its way inside. We have even had snakes. In trying to make our girls feel better, I told them how this is part of country living. I told  them about a chipmunk that visited us before they were born and how it bore a stunning resemblance to Alvin. But honestly I put this into the category of I liked old houses until we had one and.... Home improvement work sometimes goes there too.
          To some degree, it's just been that type of day. After the bat went to a better place and calm had been restored by the heroic Mama and Mr. Daddy,  I went to put tortilla chips away ( yes more tortilla chips for the pregnant lady). I found the package of fish, with the remaining semi thawed fillets, we had for dinner, in the cabinet instead of the freezer. Yes, batty has been the day.
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Room for Me with Three?!: One Mama's Mathematics: The Things that Add and Su...

Room for Me with Three?!: One Mama's Mathematics: The Things that Add and Su...: " I guess I lik..."

One Mama's Mathematics: The Things that Add and Subtract to Your Children And You

                      I guess I like to think in analogies. My husband is one of those engineering types, who sees things in black and white. I am constantly operating in the shades of gray, where I seem to most comfortably abide. It is with irony that this latest post idea came to me. For one it has a math theme and two, it kind of negates what I just said.
              Anyways, I've been thinking about how my days of motherhood have a ma thematic quality to them. There are the days I add to my children and myself.  These are the days when there is a positive feeling in the house. I have slept well; they have slept well.  -No fractions or fractured selves. It's not just a feeling or an attitude, it's a way of interacting with one another. We are a team.  Laughter and smiles abound, not the scowl I seem to have become quite skilled at on certain days.  Our house had cheek!
              There are the days that subtract from who I am and my children. Usually, sleep has been problematic for four or five days, with a sleep disparity and disturbance for me resembling an isosceles triangle. There is nothing equal in the household, whether it be my mood or the girls'. Actions and words take away from one another and diminish whole selves and house.
         There are the moments, the variables,that my children add throughout my days.There are the random I love you s and hugs from my little ones that are sprinkled through out a morning and a quiet afternoon.There are the little surprise crafts and pictures that are so wonderfully heartfelt and whimsical that multiply good moods and good cheer. There are my oldest girl's bright smiles, on a face that  can be too serious for her little years. There are my youngest girl's belly laughs that make you belly laugh with her. There is the way they play together and the way we all play together that makes any problem come out right.
       There are the days of mad math, where I can honestly say screw it to the chaos and disorder that can prevail with small children. I never liked math in the first place. Life, these beautiful little girls, can  not be fit neatly into an equation.
     Then there are days that I feel like I subtract, subtract, and subtract. Nothing comes out right. Nothing goes right. I get this really shitty image of myself sitting next to this large abacus, counting all the ways I have taken away from the girls at any given moment. I pray and wish for a magic formula that will make it all right.

     But then I remember life is not math or if it is, it's closer to mad math. Yeah, mad math....

"Lessons in Uncle Jake's Passing"

            Yesterday, my husband and I attended the funeral of his great uncle, a great man. Uncle Jake was 97 years old. Up until the last few years, he was vital. It was only most recently dementia got the best of him. While I only knew him in the way you typically know someone else s great uncle, I came away from the wake and funeral knowing him on a far greater scope than before.
           What I saw and heard about him spoke volumes.  His wake, at 8PM  on Friday night, was still streaming with people. People from the old neighborhood of Lackawanna were present. This was a man who was there when Lackawanna had a certain steel plant that was the heart of the city and thriving. The people of his community, his neighborhood in Orchard Park,where he and Aunt Mary raised their children, were present. The children his children grew up with, were there with their children. They spoke of the home that gladly welcomed them and was always full of good food and fun. He and his wife, Aunt Mary, were the hospitable sort. Laughing loudly telling his stories and openly weeping over their loss, Aunt Mary, his family, and his friends, were there in strong standing, celebrating his life. His brother and his sister, both at least in their eighties, but looking far younger, were present. In my husband's family, they call it coming from strong stock.

       It got me thinking a lot about those older members of our families that do live into their 90's and what  "strong stock" is about.   For Uncle Jake, I believe it had to do with so many things. He had a strong faith; a strong marriage (this would have been year 60 of marriage for he and Aunt Mary); a loving and close relationship with his children, his other family members, and his friends. His sense of humor was legendary. At his 90th birthday party, the family hired a belly dancer to dance at his party. Expressing his gratitude and delight, he said he would say thank you in both Polish and English for those who didn't understand Polish. With a big grin he said," Dziekuje, very much!"  Uncle Jake had an incredible work ethic.This was a man who toiled for many years at the Ford Stamping Plant. When he was  not toiling hard at the plant, it was at home in his garden, in his yard,  or on some sort of machine he had torn apart. When his one daughter ran a florist shop, he worked in her shop helping her. --And this was in his late 80's!!  But it wasn't all work and no play. There was always time for family, friends, a joke, and a story or two.
        While part of coming from strong stock may be lucky genetics, I do believe a great part of it is choice and perspective in life. It is doing those things that make you feel most alive, but having quiet dignity and faith where and when you most need it. It's about connecting to those around you in a meaningful way and both strengthening and being strengthened by your family and friends. This was Uncle Jake. I can only hope and strive to be more like him.

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002: " There was a time when sleep was normal, or ..."

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002: " There was a time when sleep was normal, or ..."

My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002

                 There was a time when sleep was normal, or at least normal for someone like me who tends to be a night owl. I could rely on six and a half to seven hours sleep per night.  I think that was circa 2003 or make that 2002, before I was pregnant with Allison. It was the era of Bush and children were just a twinkle in my eye.
              Two children later, with one on the way, sleep means it is a special night. Special in the sense that I hit the hay at a normal time without crashing out on the couch or some other soft place, like my children's bed or besides my husband at eight o'clock (he gets up for work when most people are still sleeping). That would be all fine if that was the end of the night. But  I wake with that sense of what still needs to be done. Usually, there are lunches to be made; other things to do; and a desperate urge to fulfill something resembling me time at the end of the day.  So I get up and then can not fall back asleep. My sleep resembles Lake Erie on a windy day.
       My girls say funny things to me like," Mama did you put makeup on under your eyes to make them look dark,?"

     I know I am not alone. When your with a group of mommies what else dominates the conversation, but sleep. There will be a few years, perhaps in between elementary school and junior high, when sleep is not such an issue. But then it will return to the forefront and sleepless nights will take on a whole new meaning, come adolescence.

     I had all good intentions of watching the "State of the Union" address and the hockey game, but the sandman had his way with me again.  Truly sleep has become perverted from its original meaning.
   
 
              

Foxes, pheasants, home improvement, gratitude, and a little Jimi Hendrix

                 These are the quiet days of winter and type of Sunday that I enjoy the most. --Those days when the extraordinary is found in the ordinary. We were graced with a beautiful fox that was hunting for its breakfast this morning. As we gathered ours, I can only imagine what it was eating for Sunday brunch- a nice field mouse or three, with its news and coffee. We have seen many foxes the last  few year, pups and all.  I do not recall such an abundant fox population when I was young. But perhaps, I wasn't aware or foxy enough.
             Foxes aren't the only animal that visited the Kelly house today. Looking out by our round garden late this afternoon, I saw the largest, most brilliantly patterned pheasant I've ever seen in my life. It seemed to have touched down for a long lay over, before finding one of our box elders to perch in.   
           Mike was off and able to proceed with our perpetual state of home improvement and renovation. While I always joke and say I liked old homes until we had one, I can honestly say all the dust and plastic that has covered our house through the years has been worth it. There is a reason it is called home improvement and not house improvement, as all the changes, additions, and dry wall going up and down, bring us closer to our ideal home, and at least on most days  more appreciative of each others work, in our old home.
       The animals visited; Mike " home improved"; the wildflowers played beautifully with one another; and folding laundry and making dinner today became a meditative exercise in awareness and gratitude for all we have.
Now that's a Sunday!!

   




                

Room for Me with Three?!: The Tourist in Gray or otherwise described as deep...

Room for Me with Three?!: The Tourist in Gray or otherwise described as deep...: " Tiptoe Sidestep Duck &nb..."

The Tourist in Gray or otherwise described as deeper than Western New Snow, fair warning

        Tiptoe
        Sidestep
        Duck
        But diving wholeheartedly into gray.

        She can't put into words what she is feeling,
        But knows its nuanced by many shades.
      
        For now floating,
        soaking, luxuriating in these waters
        Until it's time to get out

Room for Me with Three?!: I am at that Weird Point of Pregnancy

Room for Me with Three?!: I am at that Weird Point of Pregnancy: " I have officially crossed that threshold.I am starting ..."

I am at that Weird Point of Pregnancy

               I have officially crossed that threshold.I am starting to believe in an alien abduction of my body, as that belly button could not possibly be mine.My old clothes don't want to fit right, but some maternity clothes look like I am playing dress up in Bobo the Clown's closet. People don't know whether to congratulate me or give me a brochure for weight watchers, as either I am pregnant or forcing myself into clothes too small for me.
              I have officially crossed that threshold. I can have entire hours dominated by thoughts of chicken finger subs or scrambled eggs doused with the perfect amount of salt. Separate stops are made for tacos or make that burritos with extra refried beans.
             I have officially crossed that threshold. Babies I know and don't know seem to sense I will soon be lactating and turn around and smile at me.
             I have officially crossed that threshold. My bladder can fill up more quickly with water than my old farm house basement during a down pour.
             I have officially crossed that threshold. In spite of all these things, my belly is fully of flutters, that will soon be kicks. I am nearing 20 weeks and I can hardly wait!!!

Why it's too many chocolate chip cookies, plus lots of garlic today

            Some people live to eat. Others eat to live. I am of the former category, especially during pregnancy and wintertime.  Yes even when I am not pregnant, my snowy thoughts are often on food. Chocolate, bread, pasta, sushi, chicken dumplings, you name it. Oh yes and pair it with a nice glass of wine.
         Okay come pregnancy, come more thoughts of food, minus the wine. Or maybe it's more thoughts of food, because there can not be the wine. All I know is that I am lucky there is not an indent on my pregnant self for reaching into the cookie bowl, one hundred too many times.
       For fear of bodily injury and further incident, I switched to making a pasta dish with lots of garlic.In fact, I probably would have used more if there had been more.Thank God there was enough romano cheese to stop with the pasta and garlic, and not go back to chocolate chip cookies. If there had been any left....
           

Winter wonders and the wild flowers

           The softest snow
           Butterfly kisses
           Tender cuddles
           The impasse between morning
           And morning
           Little girls and a brand new day

A minivan, middle age, and a full fledged mama

              I am an official mini van owner. Does that make me an official middle aged adult? Is youth officially over when::
             1)  After a Pearl Jam song, my husband and I start to reminisce about the college days and our van is passed by a hot little car.
             2) I start calling cars hot little cars.
             3) When going from my G6 to Dodge Grand Caravan, my first sensation is that of driving a fleet van.
             4) When going from my other car to the G6, I felt younger and hipper.
             5) When clubbing it now means joining the minivan club.
             6) I am not an anomaly when dropping off my daughter at school.
             7) When pictures of owning a car again run alongside pictures of my retirement years.
             8) When a recent article about a resurgence in minivans in The New York Times makes me feel slightly edgy.              
             9) When my youngest starts sentences with, "When I am a mama and have a minivan..."
            10) I have given such thought to a vehicle's image and could write about it.