The mom hole

So, as a mom, you often find yourself in the midst of rediculous (sp?) situations. Eating smushed banana off of your son's bib, for instance. Or, say, answering the door with your pants undone and hanging off your ass because you were breastfeeding and had to pee so incredibly bad that you had to do it with the baby attached to your boob and couldn't get your pants up in time for the dishwasher repairman. Just as a for instance, mind you.

Tonight I found myself singing (perhaps singing is the wrong word - let's say, intoning operatically) the word "socks" in various pitches, keys, volumes, speeds, tones, voices and with a variety of zany facial expressions. Sooooooooocks! Dylan thought I was hysterical. His giggle is worth a million bucks. But then, he totally stopped paying attention - he was trying to eat the protective foam corners I put on the coffee table - and - here's the insane part - I just kept singing. Soooooockkkkkkkkssssssssss! I even did a little dance. That's a different kind of silly singing and dancing from what happened earlier in the evening, which is that Larry came home to find me dancing up a storm and singing along at top volume to Skip to my Lou. But that's acceptable, because it's on a CD and I was practicing real dance moves (kind of).

Oh, who am I kidding. I've fallen down the mom hole. Where are my sweatpants?

Festival of lights

Tonight was the last night of Chanukah (transliterations are so fun- I get to spell it differently each time!) and I was so busy with the baby - then starving and throwing food into my face, that I completely forgot to light the candles. I was folding my 800th load of laundry while watching the real housewives of OC (and actually, they aren't housewives -- most of them have jobs!) and totally enjoying not having anything due for tomorrow, when I realized it was 11 o'clock and no candles.

So, I lit them and watched them burn in the window, the light reflecting in the silver menorah, the whole house quiet and dark except for this beautiful, glowing corner. I was sad at first because Larry is at work and I wanted to be able to share this with someone. It's the only holiday we don't really get together with my family and Larry doesn't know the words to any songs so I never feel like I'm really celebrating it. Either I sing to myself or to the baby, but it lacks warmth -- plus, I'm a terrible singer.

But then, I thought, it's really nice to be alone, just meditate on the calm and the beauty, the contrast of the little lights shining against the dark. Whenever I'm alone, I am always busy, but perhaps it is important to also be alone and not be doing anything more than watching candles burn. No TV, no snacks, no books or chores or schoolwork or projects or internet or phone or even writing - just letting my mind wander, just breathing.

Yoga, which I miss dearly, has taught me the value of letting go and the finger trap mentality of life that always gets me into trouble --- the harder you pull, the more stuck you get. Winter is a time to slow down, to nest, to cuddle, to let go. I'm not sure if that's an official lesson of Hannukka (see!!!), but that's what I got tonight. I know there is an idea of being an empty vessel for God's will. Tonight, I am empty.

Chag Sameach, Hanooocka!

ahhhh, couch!

It's been such a hard semester that I'd forgotten what my couch felt like against my butt, but this evening, my cheeks got a chance to reacquaint themselves with that lovely brown leather. Ahhhhhh. Hooray, I finished my paper! I am glad and I'm sure those of you who have had to listen to me list theories ad nauseum are glad, too. My poor mother - I actually emailed her a copy!!!!! Oh mom, you don't really have to read it!

Anyway, I printed it out and threw in some laundry and performed some other household rescue exercises that can only be done post DBT (that's Dylan's Bed Time) and then I was like, huh, it's only 10:30, whatever shall I do with myself. So i cut a gigantic piece of cake and poured a huge glass of wine and sat down in front of a Scrubs double-header. I lit a candle and felt no pressure or guilt whatsoever. I even called Larry just to gossip and find out how his night was going.

God, I have undervalued television. Maybe Larry's right. Perhaps we are due a flatscreen.

Or maybe I'm due a fabulous trip somewhere. To a place with cake and wine and good reruns. And sleeping babies.