I'm trying to write, and I'm trying to write at least once a week. I've procrastinated all week until tonight, so my thoughts are short, strange and illogical. But, they are down on "paper", and that is all I can ask for.
This week, I nearly told someone, "well, my kid had formula and he is fine." But, I stopped myself. This is something that is starting to happen more frequently for me. I've become really aware of the power of words and it has almost rendered me mute in some cases. In my eyes, he is amazing. But, do you ever really know if someone is fine? Or if that person is objectively fine right now, we don't know if she/he will be fine in the future. And what does "fine" even really mean? Could he be 50% cuter if he had had breast milk for another 7 months or more? Would his drawings be even better? Would he be able to play the ukulele perfectly by now?
Maybe it is our post-truth world that is making me afraid to make any definitive statements. I hear so many definitive statements all day long from every side of the political and personal spectrum. But, my fear of saying something that may not be true has left me awash in the ocean of uncertainty. But, one does want a hint of certainty, no?
So, perhaps, the better, more truthful, definitive statement I could have made was, "I know that weaning at 5 months and switching to formula was the best thing for my family." I know that it allowed me to be a more present and joyful mother. I know that it reduced my anxiety about being back at work. I know that it allowed my husband to become closer to my son. I don't think any of those feelings will change in time, regardless of the level of "fineness" that my son may or may not have in the future. But who knows for sure!
There is such a desire as humans to have certainty and with all of the access to knowledge that we have out there, so many humans claim to have authority these days.
Would it hurt us to acknowledge that we are flawed and that we may not know everything? Would it hurt us to be willing to hear about other's experiences? Is there perhaps a better way to communicate with each other? Could this loss of trust in public information help us have higher standards for ourselves, personally, and then, collectively, for our media and government? Could it also give us more compassion to really listen to others?
Regarding parenting, every parent is an expert on his/her child. What worked for one person may not work for another. BUT, I love hearing and will never stop asking about other people's experiences. It makes me feel more connected and less alone. Maybe sharing with others can be less about asserting dominance and more about our shared existence on this beautiful little blue planet?
And, before anyone gets offended, I actually loved the Goop docuseries. Did it turn me into a hardcore Goop fan? No. But, I appreciate her desire to advance the conversation about female health and wellness.
😜
I haven't read or even seen the Harry Potter movies in a few years, but for some reason as I was doing some soul searching this morning on my walk to work, the heavens opened up and a ray of sunlight hit my face, delivering this absolute nugget of a truth: The opposite of creating a horcrux is creating a child. I mean, right? Or am I in such a befuddled state following 3 months of illness, sleep regressions, starting drop-offs, failing at potty training and general winter blues that I've lost my mind?
I tried to write a dissection of that statement to prove it right, like a good little scientist. But, my brain doesn't work that way right now. All I know is that I want to be a good mother and that being a good mother entails a total rewiring of myself. I'm the same as before the babies, but the wires are all fuddled now and this plug is now plugged in to that socket and it wasn't before and I don't know what it all means and what it means for me as an individual. But I know that I love them more than anything else, that I am in wonder of them every day, that I feel honored to get to watch nearly every moment of their becoming their own individual souls.
I know that I can't hide them in a Gringotts vault, or in the middle of a lake in a cave by the sea protected by an army of the dead. I know I can't even necessarily protect them from my own failings toward them. But, I can apologize a thousand times, I can provide all the cozy, cozy, cuddle, cuddle times to help them recover from whatever illness, pain, confusion and sadness they encounter. Their path is their own and I have no control over that other than being a guide.
Creating a horcrux used to sound like this dark brave thing to me. Horribly wrong, obviously, but still requiring bravery. But now, killing a person and hiding a piece of my soul in a vessel sounds infinitely easier than raising a child. And it sounds like cowardice. It doesn't require you to look in the mirror and challenge yourself to be better for someone else. It doesn't require you to re-prioritize your entire life, including relationships and career goals. It doesn't bring you to the point of exhaustion, physically and mentally. It requires you to try (emphasis on try) to put your ego aside and raise your children to be whoever they are, regardless of your own desires or expectations for them. It also requires the bravery to know that they will likely live past your own demise, and you may not get to see the entirety of their story, or even worse, that you do witness their entire story and it was way too short. It doesn't require rendering your heart totally vulnerable for another being.
(sigh) I don't even know where I was going with this and whether I even went anywhere worthwhile. But, somehow, that thought this morning made me feel better than I did yesterday, during a season where we are deeply in the trenches with a 2 year old and a 9 month old. And it also inspired me to write again, which I haven't in many, many months.
So....I guess.....TAKE THAT VOLDEMORT!?!
Hopefully my next musings are less likely to be used against me in a court of law. ("But you blogged about killing someone as no big deal!") In the meantime, I will continue on that noble and exhausting quest of raising two adorable little souls and hope that the rewiring of myself continues and ends up with at least one wire in the "coherent" socket. Until then, I send all of you in similar trenches love, light, rest, happiness and, most of all, humor.
