Sunday, August 31, 2014

can't keep running awayyyyyyy....

the crazy thing is, i feel less in charge of motherhood when he's two than i ever did when he was a baby.  it is often written in the literature that you eventually move into rhythm and things fall into place, but the terrible twos are a grand canyon away from me figuring anything out.  i feel more like a failure these days than anything else, because i get upset, have to remove myself from the room and come back to it, composed, ready to talk about why.  he doesn't care about why.  instant gratification is our first language, and i am always worried that i have babied him, spoiled him by learning fluency in this language first.

but how can i not?  i hear stories of children being bombed in a school in Gaza, being beaten by their peers on the slide, being bullied until they'd rather not live through this, being shot by police officers just for being themselves, and sometimes the only reflex that i have is to give in and say yes.  to hold him and tell him that he is valued, his life is important.  too many people have said no, pulled triggers on the education of our youth, and i remember reading something that Kate sent me a few months ago about why our country hates its children.  how can we, a "developed nation", allow our students to go with a sub-par education, poisonous food, violent streets and not enough options?  how can America starve its own children of the knowledge they need to succeed and survive?

(this needs a clever transition here)

i am nesting again - building branches of a home with so much material, and trying to make it bright and bold.  i am trying to take care of the space where we are ourselves and no one questions us (dr. angelou).  i am droppin' revolution (sekou) on the floor as i scrub and clean the kitchen, again.  taking care of a home is consistent job, and this is another of my insecurities.  but i am not a housewife, except on weekends, and this is not a book that closes with happily ever anything.  this is real, and it is messy, and it must be cleaned.  that is a home, and i am bowing my head everyday, because the disaster is a blessing.  it is loving the color of time, and spending a day to reinvigorate your apartment, while he sleeps.

Monday, August 4, 2014

lost in dilla, found in outkast

the reality of transition was sitting on my front porch, greeting me this morning.   child in mid-tantrum because he forgot his toy in the house, locked door, tumbling too many bags in my arms.  i often wonder the determinations people make about me when they see me at the corners of my life, making decisions quickly with too much resting on my brain.  our across-the-street neighbors have told me our antics are their entertainment on slow summer afternoons.

near tears in the frantic moment -- i paused, found key, opened door, let him in to retrieve Mickey Mouse, who he carries around like another limb, retrieved his ball from under the hostas. i took a breath, shoved assorted extra things into the car.  walked down the street with him, to briefly let him roam before confining him into the carseat. mornings are not pretty right now, but my life very much relies around routine, and i am always nervous about the shift to a new routine.  but this time, i am shifting another human being's routine, intentionally.  and i don't take this lightly.

none of this is taken lightly.  moving is never easy, but it's always only been me before.  this is the first time that i leave, and i take someone with me who is deeply connected to my family.  and i have to figure out how to keep the connection strong, how to strengthen it from afar.  it has been a struggle, these past two years, to meld my families together - that of choice with that of blood.  the struggle is ongoing and fierce, at this juncture.  we do not like to change, and we rear our fear when someone asks us to rethink what we've always known to be true.

but i refuse to choose between family.  we do not choose one another in a blood family, but we must love one another unconditionally.  this is my definition of family = unconditional love.  loving beyond faults, letting people breathe and be themselves, sometimes in their tantrum-rage glory.  just like you did not choose me, you did not choose him - why can you not find it in your heart to bring love out?  you know that it will only multiply with the giving.  i will show you what i mean.

so, i am going, but i will continue to show up.  i will continue to be there, because my love for you is unconditional.  you may not always love the choices i make, where and how i operate my life, but it is mine, and you are part of it.  you can't get rid of me that easily.  but i also promise you this.  i am the black sheep, and i have learned how to embrace my position on the fringes -- and operate outside of the boundaries of normalcy.  i will always question everything, risk everything, and sometimes lose, often fail.  but i am never really gone, we are always right here, and i will prove to you how bright our love can feel from afar.