Dear Weigh-Me-Down Junk,

I know that we've had some strange, codependent relationship these many years, (32, has it been? Yes, yes it has) but the time has come to say farewell.

I know there's a part of both of us that doesn't want to let go.  There have been reasons for both of us to hang on to this jacked-up relationship, but for me those reasons just aren't valid anymore, and I really don't think they are for you either.  I watch you sit idle, here and there.  I see that you long for fulfillment and purpose.  I have come to terms with the truth.  It can't be me anymore, Junk.  I can't give you what you need.  We both need to move on.

I know you think that it's that book I've been reading by Julie Morgenstern.  I know you think that she is the one who came between us.  Yes, that does have something to do with it.  She did give me a name for our process and I thank her for the gift of SHEDding, but really that was just a catalyst for the tension that has been building between us for a very long time. 

I don't love you anymore. 

I don't really know if I ever loved you.  You were more of a habitual state of being for me.  Harsh words, I know, but when you choose to examine the reality of the situation, you will see that I am right.

We aren't meant for each other, Junk.  And, furthermore, I think we should explore other relationships.  I realize that I probably have no right to tell you this, but you know Thrift Stores?  I think you two would make a perfect couple.

I will tell you that I have, for the last few weeks, been flirting with Organization and Empty Space.  I know, I know... you've told me a thousand times just what you think of them, but I think you're mistaken.  I think they are both diverting and refreshing.  I'm ready for the change.  We both are, Junk.

I am sorry if this hurts you.  You've taught me so many lessons about myself and I'll always love you for that.
 
Good luck with your life.  I really think that you and Thrift Stores would get along well.  Look into it. Please?  Or perhaps Thrift Store's friend, The Dump?  I heard nice things about both of them.  There's something out there fore you, Junk.  I just know it.


With Gratitude,
Clancy

And So...

Baby B is suddenly sleeping all night, bless her.  And bless me because I finally, in a moment of frustrated (yes, I succumbed to the frustration) exhaustion, let her cry herself to sleep. She cried all of 15 minutes the first night and she almost never cries now. (It's been about two weeks).  And she sleeps all night.  The trick is, she is currently sleeping in the room that is the temporary home of my computer. And she goes to bed nice and early... 7-8:00... so I have been spending VERY little time on the computer, which is both an amazing blessing and a terrible curse.  

One of the most curse-ish parts is that it is not easy to blog from an Android phone.  One would think that Google would have thought of that, since they run Blogger and made Android, powered by Google.  I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too.  

What kind of saying is that, anyway? What good is a cake that you can have but not eat? Silliness.

Dear Brynja,

You are 6 1/2 months old and I've hardly said two words about you in this, my blogging record.  I suppose I really haven't said much at all here, so don't feel bad, baby girl. 

I was thinking about you this morning while I was in the shower.  I thought of the wonder of your existence.  Seven months ago I didn't know who you were.  Seven months ago I didn't know your name, or even that you were a girl.  Seven months ago I was scared for you to enter this world, both the physiological entrance and the entrance into our family dynamic.  Seven months ago was not very long ago, and yet... a lifetime.

I hope that when you read this someday that you don't feel sad for my fears.  Perhaps you'll understand when you become a mom someday.  I was just scared to change.  Scared to shake up the status quo.  But you, persistent little thing that you are, demanded entrance into this world and our family.  You whispered in my ear when I was in labor with your brother Rohan.  I felt you there waiting.  You peeked around the corners of your daddy's mind and showed yourself to him too.  You, in your patient way, stuck your foot in the door and waited for me to have the strength to open it.  And look at  you!  Look at the miracle of you, my precious little darling. 

Brynja Leigh, you amaze me.  You delight me.  You melt and remold me.  There are moments when I am frustrated because you love to be held so very much and that is not always conducive to everyday living, but the magic of being the fourth child over a ten-year span is that I get it.  I truly understand that this time does fly by.  These moments are gone so fast, and so I've found that I can't be bothered with caving to those feelings of frustration that come when you want only me, or when you wake up for the third, fourth, or fifth time at night.  I can be patient.  I know you'll sleep eventually.  If Mac could do it, I know you will too.  I also know that there will come a time that you won't want me to hold you all the time.  You'll want to run and play and leave me watching your growing self from a distance.  A distance that will only widen with time.  And so, I am here for you now, my baby Brynja.  My mommy muscles can hold you all day if you need it, which right now you frequently do.

Even looking at your written name, I see the wonder of you.  Your name, Miss Brynja, is a story.  I was so torn over your name.  I didn't know what to call you.  As I sat in the hospital and stared at your perfect lips and your sweet round face, I asked you over and over what your name was.  I had a name that I wanted and loved, but I was unsettled about it.  I tried several options on you and I was almost sick with my indecision so, I enlisted divine help.  I prayed.  Your daddy and I held hands and asked God to help us know your name. 

You see, there is power in a name, my Little Love and we knew that you brought a power of your own into this world.  The mere fact that you made it here, past my fear and mental blocks and unscathed from your somewhat traumatic birth, speaks of your power.  And God blessed us with an answer in Brynja Leigh.  As I wrote it on your birth certificate information page, the rightness of your name settled on me like a blanket.  I held onto that feeling over the next few months.  I found myself doubting, and, truth be told, mourning the other name that I so loved.  I don't remember the date, but I'll never forget the day that doubt left me. I knew that your were growing into your powerful name.  You see, my Sweet, your name is from the Old Norse language and it means "Shielding or Armor".  I don't know what it is that you will do in this life to need a name such as this, but it is yours.  And the spelling... I hope you aren't overly troubled by it in your life, but I love it.  Every time I see it written, I find that my eyes caress it.  The letters have a flow and a form that satisfies some deeper part of my soul.  I hope you like it as much as I do.

Little Miss B, you are a joy.  Your brothers and sister cannot get enough of you.  Ella wants to hold you so much everyday.  Mac likes to call you "Dee-Doh Baby" and I have no idea what that means, but you laugh when he says it in his very silly, squeaky way.  When Rohan talks to you, you light up in a manner that only Rohan can achieve.  You love your siblings as much as they love you. 

You are a momma's girl to the MAX.  You love on your daddy too, but mommy is the magic right now.  Daddy loves to come home from work and hold you while I make dinner.  Sometimes you are thrilled with this arrangement, other times... not so much.  I'm sure, as time goes on, that you will become a little daddy's girl, so I'll just enjoy this while it lasts!

Some noteworthy info and accomplishments:

• Rolling over, back to front and front to back.  You are choosy about this and sometimes you still love to just lie on your back and kick your legs like you did when you were just a few months old.  
• Sitting up.  This has been in the works for a couple months, but you've recently achieved "master" status with this skill.  You look extra cute and extra little sitting there on a large floor. 
• Blowing raspberries.  This is a talent you have just developed and it elicits endless peals of laughter from your adoring siblings.  
• Standing unaided for 3-5 seconds.  I have to keep my hands right there but I think you've got some fantabulous balance in the works!
• You do this adorable little "gavel" thing.  You pat your little hand on everything and your brother Mac says, upon seeing it, "Order in the court!".  It's one of my very favorite things you do. 
• You have gotten much better about being in the car, so long as it's Mom driving.  I think it's because you know that I can't do anything to help you except crank my arm backward to hold your binky in and touch your face.  If Dad is driving, you know that I'm available.  I'm not gonna lie, Brynja... you abuse that knowledge a little bit. :-)
• You scoot around in your little walker and explore things.  And you "gavel" everything in sight.  You're so cute.
• You will NOT eat anything but breast milk.  You have some hypersensitive gag reflex going on.  Anytime I try to introduce any food to you, you severely gag on it and sometimes even throw up.  Not so cool, Baby B.  Let's work on that, okay?
• You LOVE to pull Daddy's chest, arm and leg hair.  Dad doesn't love it so much though. 
• You lay on your tummy and spin in circles and will even scoot backwards, but no signs of crawling yet.  But don't worry, none of your siblings really "got" that either and look how amazing they are!  :-)  
• You do this smile sometimes and it turns my heart to jelly.  You look like you're clenching your teeth, but you don't have any teeth, so it's just you clenching your little gums.  OH. MY. GOSH.  It's the cutest, funniest thing EVER.  Kid, you crack me up.
• You love LOVE your Grandma Nene's glasses chain that hangs around her neck.  You're drawn to it like a fly to honey and you're amazingly gentle when you get a hold of her glasses.  

There's many more things, I'm sure, to write and I will try a little more valiantly to record these fleeting and priceless moments, my darling.   

And look how cute you are!!

 

Please know, my Baby Brynja, that you are my whole world right now and I love it.  Thank you for getting yourself here and bringing your sweet, peaceful soul to our family. 


Love,
Mommy

 

Getting to Know You

For school, I had to fill out a "Getting to Know You" sheet for Rohan.  One of the categories to fill out was titled "Child's Likes/Dislikes".  I was having a hard time filling this out because it is so broad, so I asked Rohan to help me.  This is what is being sent back to school, as dictated by Rohan:

Child's Likes/Dislikes:  Rohan likes Vikings, Lego's, Applebee's, riding his bike and scooter, and he would like being in a submarine.  Rohan doesn't like tomatoes and princesses, Yaki Soba (a Japanese dish that I make), or time-out. 

It made me laugh and I wanted to record it.  It doesn't read quite as funny as it was to hear him saying it.  He starts listing normal things like Lego's, and as he gets more creative with his answers, he cocks his head sideways and says funny things like, "I would also like being in a submarine!" 

These are the reasons I love being a mom.

Over and Over

Here's a little secret about me. If I find a song I like, I play it over and over and over and over and over and over and over. And over again. I love to memorize words so I can always sing along. Playing a song over and over is the best way to do that. And I just can't get enough of my current groove-song, so over and over helps with that too.

Here is my most recent over and over and over and over and overs...

Angus and Julia Stone... "And The Boys"



And Angus and Julia Stone again.... "You're the One That I Want"




And my friend Rob has some amazing music that I repeat ridiculous amounts of time. If you would like to hear this, go to this link.


Also, my brother Zandy (aka Alex) is in a band.  We listen to this link all the time too, particularly the song "The Matador". 

Over It?

I thought I was over my comment infatuation.  I thought I was ok.  Only 1 comment on my blog post?  I'm fine.  Life is ok.  My self-worth has ZERO to do with my comment boxes on my blog posts.  I keep telling myself these things. 

I have no one to blame but myself.  The grit in my teeth after my hard face-plant off the blogging wagon would be my first clue.  But I find myself looking at the 0 comments and feeling crestfallen.

Maybe there's still a part of me that isn't over it.

And really, that just makes me laugh at myself.  Big-belly-laugh kind of laughs.  HHHHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!!!

Let's not take us too seriously, Clancy.  Mmmmkay? 

Good idea.  Let's just love blogging and blog for our mental health and our posterity.  Sound good?

Sounds perfect.

(Mental health might be questionable as Clancy and I carry on a conversation, but we never said what state our mental health had to be in...) 

Happy, haPPy, hAppY WedNEsDay!

*Post Edit: This is not a request for sympathy comments, much as it may sound like it is.  It was really just a laugh-at-my-own-ridiculousness kind of post.  Come on, really.  Who wraps their self worth around blog comments...  HAHAHA!!!  (ha) Anyway, this post now has enough comments the self-worth meter is sated.  If you are moved to tears and simply must leave a sympathy comment, please search my blog and find some post that has 0 comments and leave a comment on that post.  :o) 

(You know what's hard to convey sometimes on a blog?  Sarcasm.)

Missing Manic Monday: Preview

Sorry I've not been giving a preview of these words on Fridays.  I keep forgetting.  I've been going out of town a lot and when do we leave?  On Fridays.  I was sorely tempted to pick a different word today when I saw preview... click on the next word until I found one I felt like writing about.  But that was the whole point of using the random word generator... randomness.  The thing I liked about Mo's Manic Monday was I had to figure out how to incorporate whatever word he came up with into my blog post.  Not pick a word I felt like writing about and go from there.  So, I kept preview.

Is it just me or does going out of town stress you out?  Here is my normal modus operandi when I'm preparing to go out of town:

• Think about all the packing I need to do. (even if "all the packing" is not very much packing)
• Think about it some more.
• Think about how I want my house clean because who wants to come home to a messy house?
• Friday morning rolls around and I think some more about how I want things clean and what I need to do.
• Do all the laundry I have piled up.  For some reason, I feel compelled to have completely empty laundry baskets when I leave town.  Although in recent weeks, this has changed because of our new bathroom in the basement.  You see, it's half bathroom, half laundry room, complete with a five foot folding countertop.  It's amazing!  I am suddenly the Laundress Queen Extraordinaire and I do my laundry, folded and put away ALL.  THE.  TIME.  It's simply amazing what a difference a beautiful space does to your desire, not to mention functionality, of keeping it in order.  
• Think about how I need to clean out the car before we leave, because who wants to travel in a messy car?  
• Get stressed out by all the things I need to.
• "Rest" from all the thinking via brain-check-out, courtesy of the internet.
• Waste too much time online and finally pull myself away. 
• Mentally kick myself because I've wasted so much time and I have so much to do.
• Run around like a crazy person trying to get ready.  This stage involves a lot of sweaty armpits and may or may not involve *actually* cleaning the car and my house, depending on just how much time got wasted on the internet.  (Yes, I just said sweaty armpits on my blog.  Uncensored.)
• Leave at least one hour later than I wanted to. 
• More metal butt-kicking.
• Fall asleep in car, conditions pending.  *This final step has temporarily been bumped from "pending" to "omitted" thanks to the recent addition of one Brynja Leigh to our family.  :o)

 Do you see why I get stressed out about leaving town? 

For those of you who may be shaking your head in disbelief at my self-sabotaging ways (myself included), I would like to report that, while this has been my *normal* M.O. for most of my life (except the internet part... that particular distraction only showed up in the last five years or less), I am slowly changing my ways.  The old Clancy was so dependably late.  It was just ridiculous.  And, thus, the old Clancy would mentally rip herself to ribbons.  The inner critic had a heyday between the time-wasting, messy house, messy car, piles of laundry, and extreme lateness to top it all off.  It was a Self-Deprecation Party of epics proportions. 

But.

The new Clancy (which is actually still the old Clancy, but a Clancy that is trying everyday to improve herself in small ways and learning to love herself unconditionally regardless of her apparent successes or failures) has, for the last few out-of-town excursions, been ready at a decent time with, at minimum, a partially clean house, or a house at a higher level of clean than she started the day with. 

This last Friday, I managed to be ready by about 4:00, which was the time we were slotted to leave.  We didn't leave until about 6:00, but this was, in fact, due to Big O Tires and not due to Clancy.  We took our car in for new tires, an alignment and a replacement of "sway bar bushings" (whatever those are) and ended up having to replace the "inner tie rods" as well.  So, an extra $200 and an additional two hours, we left feeling much safer on our journey to the City of Salt. 

I'm so proud of me.  :-)

Missing Manic Monday: Investment

Hi there.  Sorry I fell off my little bloggy wagon again.  We've just busy with the first week of school for Mac and finishing the rest of the basement.  Someday I might put pictures up of these remodels, but not tonight.  I'm just hoping to make it through the post without falling asleep. 

I'm really tired.

So, Random Word Generator has spoken and the word is "Investment". 

So many things come to mind with this word... duplex, basement finishing, banking, equity, 401K... blah, blah, blah. 

I could write about any of those... but I won't. 

I'll write about my most rewarding and challenging investments.  Each one took nine months to gestate and will take a lifetime to mature.  Each was a physical investment of my own body.  Each is an emotional investment as I navigate the rocky waters of motherhood.  But the prize... the joy and satisfaction when you watch it all unfold...

Best investments I've ever made.

Drafts

I was just in my "Manage Posts" area of my blog and saw a few draft posts that never got published.  I can't even remember why I wrote this draft or what the rest of the story was in my brain... too bad... but I thought it was fun to read.  Mac was sitting here while I read it and he read it too.  My ten year old son pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows and said, "Huh.  Pretty good, Mom.  I think you should write a book."

I'd love to, Mac.  But first, I've just got to get myself writing again.

Here is my never-published draft of something unknown.... I wrote it on June 10th, 2009.

Kate saw him on the train that day. Cold air rushed past her as the doors opened, carrying the din of the commuters as well as the scent of his cologne. Sam's cologne was, as usual, too strong and she felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch him. 

He hadn't seen her. Kate's fingers twitched toward him and then fell still as her mind played out the outcome of taking action on her urge to feel that soft spot below his earlobe. Sighing and biting her lip, she attempted distraction by looking out the window at the streak of scenery that flew by the oblivious commuters.

Who's Kate?  I have no idea.  But I think I'd like to figure it out.

Missing Manic Monday: Bit

When my Grandma Carol passed away I inherited a double bed that was in her house.  It was the very bed Dustin and I always slept in when we went to stay there.  This bed is now where Mac sleeps.  I was tucking him in tonight and as he was saying his prayer I had my face down on his bed.  As I laid there with my nose buried in his blankets, I realized that there is a lingering bit of the scent of my grandma's house embedded in the mattress.  It was a very faint trace, but as I caught that smell I started crying.

I would give almost anything in this world to be able to walk into my precious grandmother's house one more time and inhale that distinct Grandma-Carol's-house smell, walk up her brown-carpeted stairs, into her kitchen and see her sitting at her dining room table or on her couch and soak up the warmth of her smile as her face lights up in greeting.

I miss her so acutely in this moment. 

Grandma Carol and my baby Ella Brae, 2002