Yes. YES. YES! I know. I know that Lincoln and Penelope LOOK EXACTLY ALIKE. I know. My genotype/phenotype twins born four years apart.
They are beautiful children. Breathtaking, ethereal; almost impossible to define. They are photogenic. They light up a room. They are so unlike any people I have ever met and they are so like themselves.
My impossible, magical babies. Yes, I know.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
looking for the brilliance in the grey zone
Guess what? I flew off the handle and I didn't break my life.
Nevertheless, it isn't the way to go (going all crazy). And guess what? My emotional life isn't cool-calm collected OR One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Guess what? There aren't just two choices...
Nevertheless, it isn't the way to go (going all crazy). And guess what? My emotional life isn't cool-calm collected OR One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Guess what? There aren't just two choices...
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Out of the mouths...
I had some time to waste in the city today before my appointment and instead of shopping (again) I decided to just walk around. It was about 4:30 and the streets were teeming, teeming with children and their caregivers. Like, I couldn't walk half a block without moving for a stroller or getting whacked in the ankles with a wee-little back-pack.
Maybe because I didn't have the supreme focus of HUNTER GATHERER today and I was just there, just walking, that I noticed the kids so acutely. But day-um! Their sweet voices! Their steady gaits! Their intent looks to their mothers, their nannies... Their voices.
Their voices just about fucking killed me today. I want a toddler who talks in sing-song-y tones. One who mis-pronounces things while trying to explain very complicated thoughts.
Today I was overcome with the sadness that I will never hear Lincoln's delicate baby voice say more than 2 or three words at a time. I want that. So bad.
Maybe because I didn't have the supreme focus of HUNTER GATHERER today and I was just there, just walking, that I noticed the kids so acutely. But day-um! Their sweet voices! Their steady gaits! Their intent looks to their mothers, their nannies... Their voices.
Their voices just about fucking killed me today. I want a toddler who talks in sing-song-y tones. One who mis-pronounces things while trying to explain very complicated thoughts.
Today I was overcome with the sadness that I will never hear Lincoln's delicate baby voice say more than 2 or three words at a time. I want that. So bad.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Go ahead, ask me
As a know-it-all, I mostly get through my days just fine. No annoying questioning of my choices or actions.
I have always been a know-it-all, too. Just ask my brother, the one who'd push me down a flight of stairs for being "smart" aka "calling him a dick".
But now, knocking on the door of my 42nd birthday, I am finally realizing that this is just another one of my shields. Another layer of protection. And worse? It's cracking and it has to get knocked down with all of my other brilliantly designed (if I do say so myself) facades.
This in no way demeans my SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM status, by the way. I still *do* know pretty much everything, but I'm going to try to own it more and not make all of you buy it. Get it?
I have always been a know-it-all, too. Just ask my brother, the one who'd push me down a flight of stairs for being "smart" aka "calling him a dick".
But now, knocking on the door of my 42nd birthday, I am finally realizing that this is just another one of my shields. Another layer of protection. And worse? It's cracking and it has to get knocked down with all of my other brilliantly designed (if I do say so myself) facades.
This in no way demeans my SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM status, by the way. I still *do* know pretty much everything, but I'm going to try to own it more and not make all of you buy it. Get it?
Friday, January 6, 2012
PJ
While the hot husband is away for the NEXT THREE WEEKS, I will have the pleasure of sharing my bed with the wee Penelope, she of the champion snuggle-tude.
Her body is so small, tight, lean, warm, soft and fragile. Her tiny breathtakingly beautiful face with lips that ooze pink vitality framed by wispy locks the same exact color as her dad's is enough to make me cry when I see it sound asleep next to me.
Penelope has Fragile X, too. We found out about a month ago. PJ. My delicate, precious, emotional boiling pot of fierce love and affection has Fragile X.
We suspected. We waited. We knew but we didn't want to know.
The years she spent stuck to me. Her yelling, screaming years. Her ever present separation anxiety, her volatility. My worry, my husband's worry for this child's psyche... all explained yet again by the dangling little leg off of the X chromosome I gave her.
Before diagnosis, we made a pact to handle her more carefully, to give the smallest girl in the room, the most space we could. It's working. She's more at ease, we are reveling in her company. She deserves it; my lovely Penelope.
It's 11:05 in the morning and I can't believe it's another 10 hours till I get to have the littlest elf of all cozied up in her mama's arms under the covers in the safest place on earth.
Her body is so small, tight, lean, warm, soft and fragile. Her tiny breathtakingly beautiful face with lips that ooze pink vitality framed by wispy locks the same exact color as her dad's is enough to make me cry when I see it sound asleep next to me.
Penelope has Fragile X, too. We found out about a month ago. PJ. My delicate, precious, emotional boiling pot of fierce love and affection has Fragile X.
We suspected. We waited. We knew but we didn't want to know.
The years she spent stuck to me. Her yelling, screaming years. Her ever present separation anxiety, her volatility. My worry, my husband's worry for this child's psyche... all explained yet again by the dangling little leg off of the X chromosome I gave her.
Before diagnosis, we made a pact to handle her more carefully, to give the smallest girl in the room, the most space we could. It's working. She's more at ease, we are reveling in her company. She deserves it; my lovely Penelope.
It's 11:05 in the morning and I can't believe it's another 10 hours till I get to have the littlest elf of all cozied up in her mama's arms under the covers in the safest place on earth.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
I spent $22 on one lipgloss today. A really incredible lipgloss. A lipgloss that I deserve and that I didn't realize the price of till I got to the counter and handed it over along with the $12 lip balm I impulse purchased while waiting on-line.
This is very much what some of my life is like. I was in NYC for a few hours and I got a coffee at Starbucks, got a birthday gift for my friend's kid. I also saw my therapist.
For fucks-sake it is so hard. So bloody painful. Today I thought I had a story to tell that I believed would convey a certain set of emotional conventions that would explain how well I'd been ingesting the sage advice I'd been receiving over the past month or so. That's when he told me that my vocabulary, though impressive, wasn't worth much in my therapy space. That all my fancy words were keeping me from, from... from FUCKING WHAT?!?
From my emotions. Those bastardy things again. While I kept driving to tell my story he kept stopping me to try to get me to dig in on myself and get dirty. But I won! Ha! I only cried a teeny, tiny leeetle bit. Guess what? Turns out that means I Lost. I lost at therapy today. Good thing I had already won at lipgloss or I would have been really pissed.
This is very much what some of my life is like. I was in NYC for a few hours and I got a coffee at Starbucks, got a birthday gift for my friend's kid. I also saw my therapist.
For fucks-sake it is so hard. So bloody painful. Today I thought I had a story to tell that I believed would convey a certain set of emotional conventions that would explain how well I'd been ingesting the sage advice I'd been receiving over the past month or so. That's when he told me that my vocabulary, though impressive, wasn't worth much in my therapy space. That all my fancy words were keeping me from, from... from FUCKING WHAT?!?
From my emotions. Those bastardy things again. While I kept driving to tell my story he kept stopping me to try to get me to dig in on myself and get dirty. But I won! Ha! I only cried a teeny, tiny leeetle bit. Guess what? Turns out that means I Lost. I lost at therapy today. Good thing I had already won at lipgloss or I would have been really pissed.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Xmas 2011 is in the books, people
So. The past 24 hours have been intense. I am one rusty emotive machine.
The good news is that I can certainly whip up some pretty tasty passion. The bad news is that I can spread the moldy leavings all over people that I love.
In the past 24 hours I have called my husband terrible names. I have cried (sobbed, really) in a post-coital heap that would make Kubrick blush. I worked my santa magic and had my babies eating out of the palm of my hand. I've napped & had too much too drink. I've snuggled deeply and hopelessly with my son and been the grateful recipient of more 'I love you's' than I can count from my daughters.
Christmas is cool. I really liked Christmas this year and I think as my shedding becomes less difficult, more subtle and manageable, I'll like the plain old regular days ahead of me more and more, too.
The good news is that I can certainly whip up some pretty tasty passion. The bad news is that I can spread the moldy leavings all over people that I love.
In the past 24 hours I have called my husband terrible names. I have cried (sobbed, really) in a post-coital heap that would make Kubrick blush. I worked my santa magic and had my babies eating out of the palm of my hand. I've napped & had too much too drink. I've snuggled deeply and hopelessly with my son and been the grateful recipient of more 'I love you's' than I can count from my daughters.
Christmas is cool. I really liked Christmas this year and I think as my shedding becomes less difficult, more subtle and manageable, I'll like the plain old regular days ahead of me more and more, too.
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