i'll be the mommy, you be the daddy

freud says that boys sexualize their mothers. if this is true, then it can also be said that men maternalize their wives. i'm all for designated roles and duties--it really makes a lot of sense as far as running an efficient family machine. but in these days when it almost always takes a double income to support the inflated cost of living, i think men need a little contribution to the double duties of home life.

my husband is actually quite evolved in this regard, and i am thankful every day that his career allows me to stay with the kids. even better is that he has been afforded this rare time as well, so that the kids and i have his constant support. however...something happens to a man when he continually views his wife in the mothering role, some kind of unconscious regression to elementary days of total care. in some ways it's cute when my husband asks for a turn nursing (lol--just kidding!!). no but seriously, i've noticed that by default he leaves his dishes at the table and resumes whatever he was doing before dinner; he takes for granted that every sock and jockey underwear was hand-washed (hand to washing machine) by me. i must concede though--most men wouldn't be able to hang with the co=parenting he accomplishes daily. but please, dishes to the sink at least.

then i must check myself and ask if i too am paternalizing him as my partner. in some ways i suppose i do count on him to be my rock, my protector, etc. but then again, freud's emphasis wasn't so much on girls sexualizing their fathers...but in many ways, i guess i do idealize the father's role. the ability to choose when they are available for the needs of kids; the freedom to pursue career; the satisfaction of making money.

maybe we both revert to our childhood when we get married. we get to play the roles again with (hopefully) more awareness and climb yet another rung on this generational ladder, ascending the heights of consciousness through our children, grandchildren, great grand children, great, great grand...

meet me in the park

am i the only one who feels the profound absence of community, particularly the elders? in italy, neighborhoods congregate daily in the square, around a fountain or by a church at the close of the day. debriefing, drinking beer, wine, water or coffee. the elders sit with their hands folded over a cane; the toddlers squeal as they run and trip over cobble stones; the mothers chat and gossip; the men complain and admire the women. when the last ember of sun is finally extinguished, everyone returns to their homes for dinners and wine, for more talking with extended family, fights and jokes. the households are not quietly subdued in front of televisions, thoughts weighed like wet butterfly wings by the steady stream of electronic voices.

some ancient part of me longs for this scene, knows it deeply and wishes to see it return to my life. i live in a small town of lovely people interested in their spiritual cultivation and furthering the peace of the planet. i'm grateful for my brief passing interactions with them. but i want to see us all gathering in libbey park around the fountain at dusk. i want to see elders assisted by the youth to their loosely-designated benches. i can hear the music of our talented townsfolk and the symphonic tune of children laughing. who could we become if we took part in such a beautiful daily ritual? what global changes could we make just by acknowledging our connectedness right here in our little town?

genetic lottery

my daughter is an even lighter sleeper than i am, if that's possible. it's amazing to see which traits our children inherit. more like a nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat suspense psycho-thriller. did C get my bullish, hot-headed stubbornness? or will H be handed the same blushing shyness of group situations that caused me to fake knee injuries so i didn't have to compete in HS track, even though i practiced every day with the team?

i know now that H for sure inherited my hyper-vigilant sleep patterns. today i was putting her down for a nap, and giving her a little pinky suck. our faces were mirror images--the young and the aged--inches apart. through the narrow slit of my squinting eyes, i saw that she too had her eyes barely open. i opened mine to see if she was just falling asleep, but as soon as she saw the dark hole of my eyes widen her eyes fluttered open. so i closed mine again to their peeping position. and so did she. it wasn't until i all but fell asleep myself, eyes fully closed, that she followed suit.

then, when i leave the room, i must leave ever-so-slowly, lest she sense the pressure change in the room. no joke! if i leave quickly, her acute senses stir and she's looking about to see what in god's name is going on, as if a tornado just tore roof off the bedroom.

get lost

i wonder if every woman has the same expectations of themselves as i did before i became a mom. home birth, no sugar, no television, nursing until a ripe age, wooden toys, organic food, soaps and clothing...never raising my voice, never longing for the childless life lost, always patient and kind.

my husband has a song that says, 'it won't be the place i dreamed it would, it can't be the way i thought it could, when i get there...so get lost..." i've found it's true of dream travel destinations, and new homes and love and now, children. we never know what something is until we are in the thick of it, like ants pushing through dirt or birds pushing through wind and then we are acutely aware of what is actually involved and the gravitational truth that no matter our circumstances, we are always putting forth maximum effort.

so my kid has the occasional chocolate. and his love for dora makes beatles fans look like coma patients. he has those annoying plastic toys that make repeated blasts intended to institutionalize parents. but i'm learning to let it go and to accept that i'm doing the best i can with the tools i've been given. plus it is yet another of life's irritating ways of leveling my judgment of others.

i'm learning how to get lost

vacation

well, i'm going on vacation today. i'm so excited. i get to go all the way to ventura and, drum roll please, trader joe's!!! without the kids!!! who would have known that the grocery store would become an oasis of pleasure and relaxation, a moment of thinking only my own thoughts and taking my time perusing the aisles, planning meals and snacks and trying to satisfy everyone's needs within a limited budget. now that's what i call vacation. eat your heart out fiji. you've got nothing on grocery store getaways.

sleep conspiracy

today's tiredness is not the eye-stinging, drowsy kind. it's the sort that originates somewhere behind my eyeballs in an aching pain that then radiates to the rest of my face. i'm not sure what my kids have planned for me. i know they've been conspiring, a tag team of total sleep annhialation for mom. the infant--understandable. i know she barely knows daytime from night. but C, come on. you've been at this for over two years now, this sleep adjustment thing. i would think that you've got it a little more figured out.

maybe it's because we just moved C into his own little bed finally. which hardly means much since the toddler bed is siddled up right next to my side of the bed so that we no longer have a california king, but more like an american monarchy that spans most of the western wall of our bedroom. C has been so excited about his big boy bed, but between nightly rolls onto the floor (or turtle beanbag) and generally flipping every which way, he awakens many times in the night to reacquaint himself with his surroundings with a slightly panicked 'mama!' so i reposition him and he monkey latches onto my arm so that i'm doing mommy yoga poses at 4 am.

all work and no sleep makes mom a crazy person.