On Motherhood ....

Modigliani

when they hand you your child...

(unless you were blessed enough to pull life out yourself)

they do not have any advice that suits

because they are not us and we are not them...

and this is not theirs ... and nor is it ours

National Geographic

what did Gibran say?

... something about ...

"They come through you but not from you

and they are with you yet they belong not to you"

but then why did I have them?

Dorothea Lange 

what love is this?

that robs me of my selfish senses

that guilts me into stifling tears of hellish exhaustion

that rips my heart out with every smile and hands it back bigger than before

Frederick Warren Freer

that confuses my career with things that matter

that draws from me a lullaby and reads to me of monkeys

and faeries and dinosaurs 

that halves me and then makes me whole again ...

Fine Art America

..... what love is this?

*****

I've been reading a lot about motherhood on blogs lately

It would seem a topic that raises many an eyebrow, an opinion 

and, more often than not, a passionate response

I found the above piece of writing in amongst my scribblings a few weeks ago.

I wrote it when my son was about two years old (14 years ago now!!)

(I dragged it out to use as a comment on Pia's heartwarming post about Motherhood, 

blogging and telling it like it is - it made me laugh to read just how overwhelmed I seemed)

Fact:

There are no facts. Parenting is just too subjective. It's human. It's diverse. It's fickle.

With the exception of love (immense, fierce and frightening love) there are simply

no hard and fast rules... just good intentions)

Fiction:

You'll feel the same way about parenting in three, seven, sixteen years - as you do now

Me?

I became a mother 16 years ago ... 

(I consider the very second I saw the "second blue line" the start of the journey)

I had already miscarried once ... quite late in term...

I was ecstatic, petrified and very hormonal

Upon giving birth I stared at this little bundle, with great trepidation, 

wondering if I was up to the task 

(I prayed that mothers instinct was NOT a myth)

We were a one income (small income) family

We were renting a closet

We were very young

We were exhausted almost all of the first two years

I was often filled with a longing to go back to work....

... that vaporised every time I thought about daycare

My dear mother ensured that Hubby and I were able to have a reasonable

(albeit diminished) social life and of course immeasurable support and love

We were happy. So very happy.

Ours was a healthy, content, chubby cheeked boy who lit up our hearts

I have stumbled along the way

I have made some hilarious mistakes*

I have doffed my hat to those who have more than one 

I made A LOT of it up as I went along and I have loved 93% of the task

(7% = sickness, sleepless nights, arguing with a teenager &
losing my child in Piccadilly Circus)

Although I'm not a new mum I truly love reading all about the adventures, emotions, opinions, misgivings and fiesty viewpoints of mothers the world around...

Pia writes about the challenge of balancing motherhood, blogging and career

Artemis writes about her feelings on mama-hood ....

Hannah writes about her views on gender stereotyping as a parent...

Kate writes about positive role models for her daughters...

Lisa writes about loving barefoot boys  .....

And I just love it all

To all the mums out there... whether today is a triumph or a struggle, 

 I salute you all with such immense respect and admiration.... 

... what love this is indeed.

* when our son was but a wee 8 year old he asked what a condom was... surprised and slightly taken aback, Hubby and I proceeded to stumble our way through a haphazard explanation that left him with the most confused and befuddled expression on his face. 

When we asked him what was troubling him he replied:

That makes no sense at all because on the tv show The Nanny,  

Fran says  "Oh Mr Sheffield can we live in a condo by the sea"

... yep we had heard wrong and confused condo with condom.

Happy days.... ♥

Andrea Gibson

Ya'll, I know this world is far from perfect. I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon. I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic. But every ocean has a shoreline and every shoreline has a tide that is constantly returning to wake the songbirds in our hands,  to wake the music in our bones, to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that brave river that has to run through the center of our hearts to find its way home. Excerpt from Birthday by Andrea Gibson

I sat down to reply to emails and read a few blogs.

I found this which lead me to this ...

When I watched Andrea recite Birthday I cried loudly

and openly and freely. It was wonderful.

Verisimilitude

when we first knew of each other,
it was not amorous
it was prickly

there was ego
i was studying thee..ear..tar
you were IN thee..ear..tar

i can laugh now
at the time i could not
i favoured flying solo
i gobbled romance like ice cream

when you said
“we should get married”
I said “yes we should”

we had only been together for six days
we had only fooled around once
we had only talked about everything
we had only known one thing for sure

that we knew nothing at all

now after all these years and days and seconds
i just wanted to mention again
the old cliche that spins the earth 
and keeps gravity real

i love you

PS - I learnt today that the word verisimilitude means truth. 

Although, I'm sure if I used it in everyday conversation no one would believe me.

Peace....

Peace, my heart, let the time for
the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain
into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end
in the folding of the wings over the
nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be
gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a
moment, and say your last words in
silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp
to light you on your way. 

~Rabindranath Tagore 

Thank you to everyone who left a comment on my last post

Sweet darling Daphne passed on, in my arms, 

only a few short minutes after I published that post.

My gratitude extends well beyond the 

limitations of my selfish

heart. 

Having lost so many loved ones I know

full well the grief that can seep in and the memories 

that are dredged up every time I part ways with a soul

 that I've come to love. 

It's ok.

It's life.

It's what makes us so very specially, indescribably,

mystifyingly... Human

I wish you all a very very special day.

Remember ... every breath IS our life.

Tick tock...Tick Tock...

Well I'm helping out at hubby's recording studio. Most of the time the people, the atmosphere and the perks (I can read blogs in my downtime!) make the day fly by. However this "labour of love" is moving along rather tediously today. Still.

I'm at a desk & I have a camera so really.....

  there's no excuse not to try and find 

a point of interest, 

a detail worth sharing.

There just has to be a glimmer

of colour somewhere?

Aah... the pencil pot!

OK - as you can clearly see - I'm no artist so perhaps a mental doodle may be what's needed to pass the time. 

A short poem by me

here I sit

alone, not quite.

i have my tea, my pen, my phone,

my label-maker, my staples, my paper, 

my pod, my pad, my mouse, my bag, my book!

just look! just look!

not alone am i

perhaps just lonely?

a little longing

a tad listless

a teeny bit boring

but certainly, most assuredly

not alone.