A throw-back to Hitchcock's The Birds, I think this is, which was a favorite scary movie of mine as a child, thanks to my dad. Putting babies in silly situations is also probably something I inherited from my parents, so if the following account and photos disturb you, just know that I am in therapy, and I'm working on it.
Because the color cranberry is vibrant and bold, and the fruit is beautiful and firm, and yes, a little tart...but not bitter! Like me.
Friday, August 31, 2007
The Beach, Part Two
A throw-back to Hitchcock's The Birds, I think this is, which was a favorite scary movie of mine as a child, thanks to my dad. Putting babies in silly situations is also probably something I inherited from my parents, so if the following account and photos disturb you, just know that I am in therapy, and I'm working on it.
The Beach, Part One
Dedicated to the One I Love
Monday, August 27, 2007
The Pain of Change
The baby usually wakes up at 6am to nurse, but will go back to sleep for an hour or so. I decided this was the perfect uninterrupted time. Sure enough, he was up at 5:54, and was back to sleep at 6:09. I seriously contemplated scrapping the goal for today and going back to bed, but I've learned from past experience that if you screw up Monday, the whole week pretty much goes downhill from there. I changed my clothes and stumbled downstairs into the quiet darkness. I got out my Power Yoga video tape, by Beryl Bender Birch, yogi extraordinaire, and author of the book by the same name. I used to teach this class, so I know how strenuous it is, but I also believe wholeheartedly in the healing nature and fitness benefits of yoga. Laugh if you want, but power yoga, or ashtanga yoga, will kick your butt. When I was teaching, my favorite moments were when strapping, buff men would come to my class to secretly mock us, hoping to knock out an easy class while watching women in unitards bend and flex through the series of poses. No man ever came back for a second class. Very few men ever made it through even one class. What a thrill to humble their sculpted glutes and too-tight hamstrings. (Even though that's not what yoga is about.)
Well, folks, it turns out that I'm only a mere shadow of my former self, as my father would say. I made it through both series of Sun Salutations, and a few forward-bending leg stretches, and had to throw up. 14 minutes and I was a gonner. I have a long way to go to get back into shape. I have tightness in my hips and shoulders and back that never existed before. The poses in yoga reveal so much to the one who wants to know, and I have a lot of work to do. So, I crashed on the couch, nauseated and weak, and fell asleep for 45 minutes till the boys came downstairs.
I could feel defeated and pathetic, but I feel on top of the world! I actually did it. I got out of bed and started the change I need to make in my life towards better health. And so it was painful, and so tomorrow I probably won't be able to move my arms, and so I'm out of shape and exhausted, but tomorrow has to be better! The first day of any change is the worst, but it brings with it a sense of euphoria and hopefulness that acts as a catalyst for tomorrow. God willing.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Towering above the Masses
They were very spiritual years for me, years of tremendous stretching and growth. God became even more real, and I hung on his every manifestation in my aching heart. I believed that God wanted my family to continue, and that he loved both Adam and me enough to offer us open doors for redemption in our love, but ultimately allow us to choose our own paths, with commensurate rewards. I certainly hoped that Adam would choose my path. But he didn't. Well, he would turn for a time, but then spin right back around. It was confusing and tumultuous. I began to date to bide my time, but I still held out hope that my miracle would come.
It did. I signed on to some internet dating sites. They were LDS, so I felt they were somewhat safer, and the attention was intoxicating! One day in May (May 13th, actually, a Friday, coincidentally) I sat at my computer when a message came to my inbox at ldslinkup.com. "Wow. You're really pretty," it read. I felt I needed at least to be gracious and say 'thank you', and see who had passed my way, so I clicked on his profile. Hmmmm. Kind of intriguing. Mysterious. Depth in his eyes. Divorced. Father of 2. Green eyes. 5'4. Yikes. I'm 5'4, and I've never had to worry about dating a short guy. My first husband was 6'4, and all the males in my family are over 6'. I've shot down guys before simply because of their height, shallow thing that I am. But something said to write him back.
me: "Thanks! You just made my day!"
him: "Well, now that I've got you talking to me, what's your name?"
me: "Jenna"
him: "Nice name, Jenna. I'm Adam."
(gulp)
Adam? Seriously? The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
me: "That's my ex's name."
him: "Oh, crap."
It was okay, not a turn-off. I loved his voice, and how interested he seemed in me, and so we kept on talking. And talking. And talking. And then I could hear my children's alarm clocks going off in their bedrooms to wake them up for school. Birds were chirping. We had talked all night long. We didn't much get off the phone at all for weeks. Every battery in our cordless phones died. Our elbows became arthritic from holding the phone up to our ears. It didn't matter because we couldn't get enough. The more we talked, the more I liked. He had almost identical crazy family stories to mine (but if there was a winner, the prize would have to go to him). We had very similar upbringings: tons of dirty kids in a large, poor, Mormon family, except I'm the oldest, and he's right smack in the middle. We both knew what "Deseret beef stew" is, and our families share many of the same dysfunctions. I can remember one night we were on the phone (he in CA, me in UT), both tuned into the same television channel. There was a commercial for a National Geographic special or something and suddenly a graphic scene of a wildebeast being torn apart by hungry lions came on the screen. Adam said, "That's what it was like when Mom brought home a box of sugar cereal." I busted up in laughter. That's exactly what it was like. 'Sugar' cereal, he said. This guy knows.
We met after two weeks of phone conversation. I picked him up at the Salt Lake Airport, with nerves that rattled. He was sweating it too, but for different reasons. He had lied about being 5'4, and was only 5'3. He was scared to death that I'd find him out. Which I did. It was the very first thing I said to him. "You're not 5'4," I said as I hugged him. "Yeah, I am," he said, "it's just that your eyes are placed higher on your head so it looks like I'm shorter." He really thought he could get me with that. The height thing was weird in the beginning, though I loved how confident he was with himself. He told me early in our conversations that he felt like he "towered above the masses". But it felt odd to walk next to a man the same size as me. Every time I turned my head to say something, his eyes were right there. Whoa! Scared me! I was used to feeling little next to a man, maybe even cowering a bit. I talked with my dad about my feelings.
"Dad, I think I'm falling in love with him," I said. "I know it's quick, but there's something different about this one. I knew it almost immediately." My dad was glowing with happiness on the other end of the phone, I could feel it. "But I can't get over this height thing. It's so hard to get used to." The first thing my dad said to me was, "Well, how tall is his spirit?" And then what he said took my breath away. He said, "Jenna, look what's happened to you over the last several years. You've been emancipated! You no longer have to stand low, looking up to a man, you can look him straight in the eye." I started to cry. It was true. I deserved equal love and partnership, and the Lord sent me a man I could look eye to eye.
We were married less than two months later. It was a quaint, lovely, outdoor ceremony in the mountains of Utah. Our children, family, and close friends were there. We exchanged vows we had written ourselves and I thanked him for being worthy of my heart and the pain that had consecrated it. He was my Adam, the Adam I had waited for. It hasn't been an easy road by any stretch of the imagination, but when I consider the alternative...it's been worth it.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
We Interrupt This Blogcast...
Sunday, August 19, 2007
A milestone
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
You never know unless you try
Monday, August 13, 2007
Speaking of baby steps...
Last night my sweet Adam allowed me to be motherly and nostalgic and cry my birthday tears for my baby: "Remember, hun? It was this time exactly last year that I went to bed and then started having contractions 12 minutes apart?" and "Remember how we labored all through the night, and that sweet little guy just wanted to come out and join the fun?" It was an amazing night.
Conor was born here at home, my second homebirth. His big brother and sister were present in the room, with the other three siblings outside the bedroom with ears pressed up against the door. We had three midwives here, but Daddy's hands were the first to welcome him into the world. It was beautiful. And I can't believe it was a year ago. And now he walks. And says, "dub-dub". But he still adores his mommy more than anyone else.
Today we took him to Payless to get his very first pair of shoes. I am a mom who doesn't put shoes on baby feet until they're walking, so this was an exciting event. He loved them all, wanted to eat them all, and once he had some on, he stood there and danced in them to the music being piped through the store. But now he refuses to walk in them. Too heavy? Too clumsy? Oh well, they're too cute anyway. He'll figure it out. And in a couple of days, we shall eat cake and do a little more birthday dancing.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Steps, Baby Steps
When I met this woman, I asked her insensitively if she ever wished she'd had her own children. "They are my own children," she said. Another stepmom I know told me just before I was about to take on the role myself that I would love my stepchildren the same way that I loved my own children. She said that when people ask her which are her children and which are her stepchildren, she has to stop and think about it because sometimes she just can't remember. I took on my new role with enthusiasm and the fairest of intentions. Imagine my horror, when I found that I didn't love my stepchildren, and sometimes I didn't even like them at all. My happiness throughout much of my first two years of my new marriage was arranged around whether or not they would be here. I was insanely resentful of their relationship with their father, I was accusing of every childish misstep or misdeed around the house, I was overly defensive and protective of my own children, and I was flat out miserable. My husband had similar feelings toward my children, and we found ourselves convinced that we had made a mistake. I loved my husband, but I did not love his children. I tried to cover it up in the name of motherly/martyrly service. I cooked for all of them, I read to all of them, and I supervised them all in homework and chores, but my heart was divided. I looked forward to Wednesday's, of all days, because that is the day my stepchildren go back to their mother's house. I felt free and liberated on Wednesday's! If my children were away at their dad's, and only my husband's children were home, then I often stayed locked away in my bedroom "reading" or "watching movies" or "writing". I was really being hateful and ugly. I confess to none of these things with pride in myself, but with utter horror, shame, and even a bit of disbelief. But I sure wish someone else had confessed them to me first and saved me a lot of self-loathing over these last difficult years of transition.
There were days when I felt I might actually love my stepchildren. There were days when rays of charity shone through. I wasn't completely repulsive. But I was mostly repulsive, and disgusted by myself. Mostly, these children were less worthy than my own, and in the way of my new relationship with their father. I berated myself with thoughts of how unloving I really was, and how worthless I must be. What was wrong with me that I found loving two beautiful children so excruciatingly difficult? Come to find out, nothing.
I was led to a book called "The Enlightened Stepmother" by Perdita Kirkness Norwood, and was so relieved to read the "Five Stages of Stepfamily Development" provided in Chapter 5. I like that she emphasized two facts in this chapter:
1. Forming a stepfamily is a PROCESS.
2. Forming a stepfamily takes TIME.
With that in mind, I read on. Stepfamilies are a work in progress and some professionals say that while every successful stepfamily must move through the same five stages of development, the length of time varies enormously. Some say four to seven years, and experienced stepmothers say it may be as long as ten or twelve years. Now this may be defeating to some, but to me it was OH, HAPPY DAY!!! I, once again, in my perfectionistic and idealistic ways, was expecting immediate results that simply cannot happen immediately! Here are the Five Stages:
- Fantasy--This is the "we'll all be one big happy family" stage, or the "I will rescue everyone" stage. We'll all love each other, and life will be bliss. This stage is also called "Illusion". Darn it.
- Confusion--Clearly something is wrong! The new family is not working, but nobody wants to rock the boat, so suppression is the order of the day. Fear of failure is in the air. Insufficient preparation has taken place, and stepparents and stepkids reject each other.
- Crazy Time--This very difficult period is inevitable. The stress and inaction of the previous stage forces matters into the open. Everyone experiences pain, anger, dissatisfaction, guilt. Stepmothers often are swept away in an avalanche of paralyzing emotions due to disappointment that their initial fantasies are failing. Self-esteem is stripped bare, resentments smolder, serious family divisions (you and yours vs. him and his). This is decision time, make-or break time. But this stage is unavoidable if progress is to be made. Oh good, we're right on track?
- Stability--A poignant and exhilarating time for family members who begin truly coming together. Stepmothers usually initiate this step, perservering day after day, facing challenges and resolving them. Words like "us" and "we" start to emerge, as do small signs of stabilization. The family moves to a new level.
- Commitment--Beginning of final stage when change is accepted as nonthreatening. Family members choose to deepen relationships. Past difficulties are put aside, and a new atmosphere of receptiveness, trust, and respect emerges.
Finding out this information has done wonders for my beaten down soul. Every mother and stepmother wants to be successful. No one tells you how hard it will be. And while I've been sitting here wallowing in how hard it has been for me I've forgotten too often how hard it has been for everyone else too. But we're doing okay. We're right on target.
Another book that has been even more helpful has been Bonds that Make Us Free by C. Terry Warner. I realize that I was living "inside the box", and was failing to treat others as people, but rather as objects in a self-betraying way. This has opened my eyes and my heart immensely toward everyone, including my stepchildren. I am trying to stop being so absorbed with how I feel all the time, and live a truer, more authentic life. When I do this, the love just seems to flow naturally and freely. In fact, just a few days ago, I took my stepchildren with me alone on the long drive to Arizona to pick up my children from their summer visit with their dad, and we had an enjoyable time. I found myself concerned for them, interested in them, and protective of them. And having all six of my children in the car on the way home felt right through and through.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Life Overhaul
I have been working with an excellent counselor, and listening to her book on tape, trying to soak it all in. I have made changes around our house in anticipation of all of the children coming home. I have been writing profusely in my journal and trying to keep up with all of the realizations that are illuminating my mind. And, I've been reading. I wish every single human being would read the following books. And not just once. I've read them all once (actually, some of them I've read about four times previously), but only this time did I finally get it.
1. (I know you think this book doesn't apply to you, but it does)
2.
3.
4.
I am learning whole new ways of being, and the ironic part is that these new ways of being are the real me, which is why they feel so good. I have a long way to go, but I'm on the road, and I can't stop smiling.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
A reason to blog today
Four Jobs I've Had:
1. Managing Rinaldo's Dry Cleaners in Pennsauken, New Jersey
2. Drive-thru teller extraordinaire at First Interstate Bank (now Wells Fargo) in Mesa, Arizona
3. Assistant ASL instructor at Northland Pioneer College in Show Low, Arizona
4. Power Yoga instructor at Bodyworks Fitness Center in Show Low, Arizona
Four Places I've Lived:
1. Provo, UT
2. Merchantville, NJ
3. Mesa, AZ
4. Draper, UT
Your Favorite TV Shows:
1. Everybody Loves Raymond
2. King of Queens
3. Seinfeld
4. Oprah
5. American Idol (sorry, this question didn't specifically say 4 favorites)
Four Favorite Foods:
1. Pizza from New Jersey or New York
2. Philly cheesesteaks (the real ones)
3. Ben and Jerry's Mint Cookie or Half-Baked and Twisted
4. Shredded beef chimichanga
Four Websites I Frequent:
Amazon
Well-Trained Mind
Meridian Magazine
Mapquest
Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
1. At Luisa's house
2. Pasadena Library
3. Alaska
4. Barnes and Noble
Four Movies I Love:
1. A Few Good Men
2. Devil Wears Prada
3. The Notebook
4. Pride and Prejudice (Keira Knightley version)
Mom, and Abby, you play! I'd love to read your answers!