Archive for ‘dollar bills’

July 16, 2013

your momma’s so broke

dear cost of living,

i hate you.

sincerely, hh.

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March 25, 2013

once upon a time

while cleaning my bathrooms today, i remembered being encouraged, long ago, to open a naked housekeeping business. afterall, i loved to clean and, apparently, looked good doing it. i immediately realized that the adage “there is no time like the present” is quite mistaken.

October 8, 2012

don’t know how to back down

“the precarious balance we maintain with great effort relies upon highly complicated and unregulated variables remaining impossibly stable. these variables, dangling mid juggle, must hold some form of consistency or relative predictability, so that we can plan and budget our so stretched time to ensure all goals are (almost) achieved. it all kinda works, albeit a sprint from eyes opening, until it doesn’t. traffic on the bridge? i’m eff’d. emergency case at the end of the day? i’m eff’d. vacuum not working? i’m eff’d. running out of coffee filters? we.are.all.eff’d.

when you are a mother who is also employed (and works too much), there isn’t much room for error. you plan, you prep, you hussle, you find time where none exists, and you fail. well, you feel like you fail (and fail, and fail, and fail)- in every aspect of your life. so when your son gets sick and needs you full time, it all falls down. hard.”

good morning, dear reader.

because it is a holiday long weekend and i can, i was just browsing through some unfinished drafts whilst texting my friends some grotesque photos of my baby belly (or, alternatively, the belly of the largest woman in the world) and came across this stressed little blurb i barfed out sometime last winter when we were in the depths of sick toddler hell for 6, that’s right, 6 weeks, whilst simultaneously trying to make it all work and not get fired.

well, guess what? currently, it is all working. why? cause i’m not.

dude, i know it’s a bold admission but seriously, we got it locked down right now and it all has to do with me being home more.

last week, i sent my son to preschool with, in addition to cute cut up fruit, etc., some home-made baking for his snack. i made said baking using beautiful ceramic mixing bowls gifted to us at our wedding (this is relevant b/c i had a pseudo hallucination / nostalgic traditional moment when creating said yumminess where i felt like i was getting something right, and the bowls had something to do with it. don’t read into it too much, i can’t stand behind the politics). my family is eating home cooked meals i have prepared as per menu plan loaded with healthy nutrients. of significant importance, i even kinda looked decent once or twice recently whilst making new mom friends at the playground. my house is in order, my son is rested and soooo happy, my husband is not having to carry the weight of his mammoth wife’s inadequacies (pregnant and tired and puking and working 6 days a week does not a functional partner make) and actually looks relaxed these days, and i am happily busying myself with day to day autumn splendor whilst organizing every aspect of our lives that has been neglected over the last 9 mos.

it’s not everything, god knows it isn’t for me, but there is something, maybe a lot, to be said for simplifying. i’m gonna go with it for now. when i lose my shit in a few months and think the walls are closing in, remind me of how thankful i feel about this level of non complication today. okay? deal.

p.s.- to keep a familiar level of vain neurosis in stock i am, however, avoiding befriending the incredibly beautiful, nice, and interesting mother of 4, soon to be 5, who is always put together, makes pregnancy look stylish (sexy, even), and homeschools. my rationale is that i have enough friends but the truth is, i don’t need her in my life, she is too lovely for words, the complete package, and i have enough reasons to feel sub-par. don’t tell anyone.

October 3, 2012

“back to the sandbox”

one night at work, myself and the student i was mentoring were confronted with one too many lives that had little chance of anything other than where they had arrived at.

she, an amazon of beautiful, kind, and capable super-momma goddess, reflected that it was hard to not want to take these people by the hand, find a way to start over, and give them a different set of outcomes.

now, we do not believe in deterministic theories. we see capacity, we know of resiliency and possibility, we are hopeful. and, in the moment, though it is heart work, we do it with our feet grounded. and, though we have an informed perspective, we do it removed, and we do it this way to be effective.

but… she was right. if you have any awareness it’s difficult, if not impossible, to look in someone’s face, listen to someone’s voice, watch their eyes, or the way they move their limbs, and ignore or deny what it represents. and adults, bless our eff’d up selves, are all just people who once were children…  some, god forbid, who were not afforded what they never should have had to ask for. some who, unjustly, were denied what they unquestionably deserved, just for existing. some who were exposed to harm that no person should know, whether  indirectly or directly, with or without intent. some, who were deprived of security and their born right to protection. some, who were left to navigate the cruel reality of life without an ally and, in fact, with no help from ‘family’-  ‘family’ that would make you question the definition of ‘enemy’. some who had their vulnerability exploited, undeniably and adversely affecting their sense of self worth, deservingness, or sense of future opportunity for their developing selves.

she got me, the woman i was to be mentoring who in fact i learnt a great deal from in our time together, and she appealed to my sense of fairness that resides deeper then professional neutrality, albeit informed by both my personal and trained scope and analysis.

it’s not that i’m insensitive, or ever could become hard to what is hard for others (i hope). it’s not that i don’t operate with compassion. it’s just that i’ve grown as a practitioner and my heart does not lead me, nor should it. thing is though, these individuals, these adults who were once children and who were not dealt good cards, these people who were before us with their history so big that there was little room for question, they didn’t most need a thorough assessment and corresponding strategic or skilled interventions. they didn’t ‘need’ much but, instead, maybe would have most benefited from a little heart first: simple, non-assuming, contained but generous delivery of pure kindness and authentic respect- like they always should have  been given but didn’t necessarily even know was an option.

and maybe, she reminded me, maybe being given just kindness, or just having someone be present in a respectful way could have a retroactive impact. maybe travel back in them to a time where they should have been safe. back to a time when they should have been peaceful and allowed to be innocent. maybe resonate in some supportive, encouraging, or healing way just by not being an interaction that could have been too formal and therefore received as foreign or, despite best intentions, a negative affront on their intrinsic worth.

being on leave now from all that is crazy and dangerous and heart wrenching and sad and, frankly, devastatingly unavoidable, has allowed me the opportunity to have the time to have an extended look at my innocent child’s face more often than not. i’m in the sandbox with him, building little forts and big dreams.

his eyes, his skin, his growing, working, developing, trusting, and vulnerable little brain and being… being off work has given me the opportunity to hear his voice, and all his weird little curious and exploratory thoughts revealed, and be reminded of how beautiful and awesome a privilege it is to be blessed with the responsibility to nurture a dependent.

i hadn’t forgotten his preciousness. it’s just that my emotions matured whilst raising him, out of necessity mostly, for it was not sustainable to remain so raw in feeling and also achieve or maintain functionality. but when he was born, and my heart burst through my throat, i cried for days at how magnificent of a task had been bestowed to me when he entered this world.

his little bird like self: all red, squished, and becoming. more vulnerable than i ever could have anticipated or prepared myself to be ready for… and the realization that the trust that he had to have, without even being conscious of it, and how he had no choice in who he had been born to and how he could not influence who was to be responsible to do right by him. i was so shocked at how easy it would have been to do wrong, just by accident even, and so unfortunately aware that not all children would receive the same level of commitment that we were prepared to make to keep his spirit whole.

my spouse couldn’t believe the thoughts that i was thinking, so often ruminating about the horror that some children, not and never our babe, but that countless others would have to endure and how unfair that was when our son would never know harm at the hand of, or in the environment of, his family. i suppose it was morbid and uncelebratory but i couldn’t deny how much love i felt for him, enough to make me crazy, nor could i deny what that love, along with our circumstance, ability, and support network would provide for him and, alternatively, what other lives, as darling and as sacred as him, would not be afforded, for whatever complex reason.

i am reminded now, as i anticipate that my body will soon begin the epic process of delivering our second child, just how immense of a gift and how large of a responsibility is about to come into this world and be placed against my ravaged body and find home in my arms.

i am reminded now that i will look into this child-to-be’s face and see it’s eyes looking at me for the first time, registering me as it’s mother, and pleading for a good life.

i will deliver. both this child, and the promise that making a new life means.

welcome, future child, to a home and a family that will give you everything we can- just as you, and every other child, deserves.

September 13, 2012

no idle threat

my body asked me to stop so, i listened.

if there was no one that i was responsible for but me i would’ve-could’ve worked harder-stronger-longer-further but, at this time, this was not an option. i heard baby’s call: please acknowledge me, please care for me, please slow down for me.

and, baby deserves it.

as a mother, you have the choice to do wrong by yourself but you have no right to do wrong by the others, those you have created and are primarily accountable to. there is no option there, or there is, i suppose, but it’s always the wrong choice to not do right by your children.

so, don’t.

so, pause. so, struggle. so, adjust. so, re-learn. so, push through. so, rise. so, find balance. so, stay sane. so, get creative. so, feel baby grow. so, be pregnant now, let it show.