At 32 weeks

I keep waiting for someone to take an impossibly cute picture of my pregnant belly and then I'd write a sweet and clever little post about the joys and discomforts of being less than 2 months away from our baby being outside!  However a picture of that nature has not surfaced to date, so we'll try this image-less strategy instead.

Do you know what surprises me the most about this pregnancy?  I feel great!  I mean sure I'm tired, low energy, having a hard time reaching things on the floor, outgrowing clothing daily, having horrible hormonal eczema on my hands and constantly chasing Cecilia, but really, I feel great.  I had this assumption that having a second child was going to wreck my body, because with Cecilia my body was a bit of casualty.  I had joint pain, tremendous weight gain, back ache, trouble sleeping... the whole nine!  However this time around?  It's feeling pretty great, I mean sure I'm uncomfortable, and sure I have some new achiness, but all in all I'm really pretty comfortable.  I'll be thanking the progression of my yoga practice for that, the activeness of a small child and the general increased integrity of my body.

Thank you body.  Thank you integrity.

This little one (gender still unknown) is a pusher!  Sure they like to squirm around, kicking here and there, but mostly it's these grand body stretches that I feel, as if they are trying to expand the walls of the womb.  I think all in all we have a pretty cozy dynamic the two of us though, I love feeling the hard lumps of my baby's little legs ans knees.  I love sharing that feeling, calling to whoever is nearby to feel a hard little baby mass!  Which inevitably shifts half of the time to be undiscernible to the timid hands poking at my belly.  Lately Raf's been laying his hands on my belly and that makes the baby stir quite a bit, so neat!

Cecilia is feeling pretty proud, often heard saying, "I have a baby in Mama's Belly."  She's been found kissing and hugging my belly recently.  We're starting little conversations about the birth now as our intention is to have her there, however always with the option of something else happening entirely!  One never knows with these little babies just what will happen at birth after all!  I'm happy to see Cecilia taking ownership of the little one however.  I feel as prepared as I possibly could ever be to be parenting 2 children, which is equal parts ready and terrified!

Fingers crossed for some good baby belly pictures soon everyone...

And The Decorating

Seems to be the funnest part of all.  Our little girl asks for bits of yarn daily to add to the tree.  She goes into our small box of ornaments and requests help in looping them over a branch she cannot reach.  There is often a chair next to the tree so she can get just the angle she needs in tree decorating.  It seems to me an object for Cecilia to create her daily installations on is just perfect for her developmentally.  I'm confident this tree will continue to morph it's decorations on through the holidays.

Hunting

Off we were on Saturday looking for our Christmas Tree.  We arrived at Race Point on a very cold afternoon, with a sleepy girl in tow.  We rambled through the woods us Hopkins 3(+) trying to find the very best tree.  Not one of the stinky conifers, not a spindly one, not one that's too tall, nor too short.  We were looking for the very best tree to fit into our home at 3 Brighton.

And then we saw her, in the middle of a clearing, all by her lonesome, fairly small, very full, round and lush Christmas Tree.  She had the perfect point for a star and plenty of branches for our little girl to decorate.  Perfectly manageable for our little hands to carry back to our little car.

In Gratitude.

Community,

Recognition,

Grief,

Wiggles &

Companions.

Prep.

A Jim Kovaleski Long Pie that's been waiting just for today.

Split.  Wide.  Open.

A day of baking.

Sage bread cubed and drying out just anticipating it's transformation into stuffing!

And a the rare turkey bird taking a 24 hours bath in a simple brine.

Walking Along

Those sweet little downy hairs

There are these moments as a Mama that are magical.  They are calming, centering, heartening.  They come on the tale end of chaos, nipping the heels of meltdowns.  They are the moments of peace, of rest and quiet.  There is a curling, a molding of one small body to one large body.  There is a comfort there.  A hand held, a tear wiped, a silence of breath.

We as mother smooth our child's curls.  We stroke the head, the hair, the cheek and back.  We notice the baby-like softness of our child's cheek, those eyelashes that bring us back to all those quiet moments of nursing and rocking our infant.  These quiet moments are far between, the moments our child allows us to comfort them as if they were so small they could be tucked in the crook of our arms.

It is a sweetness and softness that soothes the heart, the soul, the mind.

tears. of. joy.

The Pride in Maine swells in my heart today.

Grows, Expands, Inflates, Catapults & Rises.

We.  Did.  It.

This Is Why.

Look at that face.  Those little bright eyes.  The wonder, hope and faith she has in her family, her friends, her community, in everything right now.  At two years old there is a complete faith that every time you fall there is someone to care for you; to pick you up, hold you and comfort you.  We don't yet see the differences between people, it's either friend or stranger, there is so much innocence.  She does not see race, she does not see gender, she does not see sexuality, she does not see poverty or wealth; she sees friendship.  She likes someone who will kneel down and explain something to her, build blocks with her or push her on a swing.  It's easy and simple.

I will watch my child's sensitive mind grow.  She will become discriminating; decide her preferences, follow her gut.  She may love frogs, princesses or trucks.  She may be a bookworm or a social butterfly.  She could be interested in gardening or nail polish or airplanes.  I have no idea what bits and pieces will compose her, hold her interest, make her who she is.  She may love men or women or either, she may ultimately identify her gender as a man.  As a parent I know that these are all possibilities for my child.

What terrifies me is that she should ever be made to feel dis-empowered for being exactly who she is.  It will start early, and it will start young.  She will want to express herself artistically, however be in science class.  She will be interested in car mechanics, and be ushered towards nursing.  Our society is so defined by stereotypes, by stigmas, by our expectations it takes every ounce of awareness one can possess to not accidentally foist this upon our children.  Because as we well know girls aren't always pretty and boys aren't always handsome. 

This acceptance of our differences is fundamental as a society.  It is not about agreement or consensus, but rather about allowing each person to be who they are and therefore they contribute as productive members of society. 

Our hearts choose our partners. 

Our love creates a family. 

Our families & friends bless our commitments. 

And our community supports us. 

So when we go to vote on November 6th remember the hope, the brightness, the joy you've felt in your life.  Remember how it felt to be a child and vote freely with your heart. 

I've Got A New Way To Kale

I'm trying to get my recommended 2 servings of dark leafy greens as part of my pregnancy diet.  I have a garden full of kale.  That means eating kale most every single day.  Steaming it and adding it to soup just isn't cutting it anymore.  Boring stuff eating kale the same way everyday, so I've been trying to get creative in my kale application.

Like by adding meat to it.  And other veggies.  And spices.

All of a sudden the same old kale gets yummier and yummier and yummier.

Do you have any kale recipes you'd like to share?

Hard At Work

 

"I workin mumma," I hear her say to me, her tone gruff and sincere.

Whether it be with a glue stick, a pile of blocks, a tote bag with odds and ends or in her kitchen.  She is hard at work, creating scenarios, playing pretend, making, doing, fixing, working.  That little brain of hers is constantly turning from activity to activity, sometimes leaving my brain spinning!  Oh, but is she proud of herself as she executes a thought, an idea, a game, and, boy, does she execute!  To have the same follow through as her, to hatch a plan and then never stop short of living her dreams, in fact to crumble on the floor in a sea of tears if anything less than her idea is followed through on.  Such passion she lives by!

And, oh so, so deliberate at every turn.

Homemade Deodorant

All these years later I've spent money on deodorant.  Lots of money on deodorant that is natural, free of aluminum and allows my body to sweat in a natural way.  Deodorant that offers fairly short term relief of odor.  The pay-off of using deodorant that is mediocre in preventing smell is being free from fear of the build up of neurotoxicity from the use of aluminum chloride.  This felt like a reasonable trade to me.

I've tried crystals, expensive herbal products, not so expensive roll-ons.  Then finally I discovered this product by Weleda, it is alcohol based and the best part is it's a spray so there's no cross contamination from rolling something on to my stinky pits.  It smells just like a gin & tonic and works so great!  However at $15 every 6 months, not to mention it's difficulty to locate I felt like I needed to research making my own.  And would you know the answer was in my liquor cabinet this whole time?

Reusing my spray bottle I filled it with 100 proof vodka.  I then added 10-20 drops off tangerine essential oil and shook vigorously.  Voila!  I no longer stink and I have an inexpensive, homemade solution to deodorant!

Bean Hole Day

Excuse the bare butt, but bean hole beans are once again the most delicious of all beans.  Soft, tender, loved, hot.  Especially on a rainy day with friends.  Add in a rambling walk in the driving mist and we were the happiest of campers.

Bean Hole Eve

 

Homegrown Tiger Eye, Marfax & True Red Cranberry. 

3 pots, 2 ham hocks, 3 onions, 1 head garlic, molasses, pepper, maple syrup & mustard.

A pot of butternut soup, block of camie, bag of chips & a splash of Jameson.

Vests, Sweaters, Socks, Boots, Hats, Scarves & Long Underpants stripped off, pulled back on, taken off & then put back on again.

Helping hands, a few muscles & many layers of laughter.

Goodbye We Said.

This was the weekend of ashes.  It was a collections of hellos, how are yous and goodbyes.  We ate and ate and ate and walked and collected; held hands and hugged.  Closed our eyes and breathed.  Chased and laughed and fell.  We gathered.  We remembered.  We celebrated.  And there were tears, for without her we would not all know each other, and she was nowhere to be seen, but in our memories.

I can remember after she died so suddenly, going to the funeral home to say goodbye.  To see the remains of her body.  I remember feeling so scared to feel her being cold to the touch.  Her hands sat there, so small and soft and I held them.  I remember the small hairs on her upper lip, how they caught the light.  The softness of her skin and the firmness of her jaw.  I remember the tears that fell so continuously in those weeks, ready and waiting, dropping and filling tissue upon tissue.  The endless hugs from waiting arms to catch this daughter as she fell.

Eventually the tears dried.  The grief subsided to the warm rays of spring.  There was a compartment made for hedgehog collections, baby powder and flower patterns.  Life continued and I continued and managed to step forward out from under the sorrow.  Out from under the cloud cover and into the sunlight, into the growth of my gardens on cold mornings and into the passage of time helping me to let go.

As the baby grew inside of me and I could feel it's movements getting stronger by the day it made me long for her calls.  As the tomatoes came into season I wished I could here her tell me about making her favorite tomato tart.  I wanted to hear the stories of what came into season at the market in Brunswick and who she had run into there.  I long for the excited chatter of pregnancy shared between a daughter and her mother.  And as Cecilia grows and chatters and tells stories of her own, creating elaborate scenarios and games I long for the joy and sparkle in my mother's eye as she gets down on the floor once again to play a game, or do a craft together.  I feel so much sadness that they will not know one another like that.

So her remains were poured into the bay yesterday, 9 months and 22 days after her death.  It was a place she loved. 

And I... I released a bit more this day.

Thursday,

This must be the place.

Wednesday,