Oh Wow! It has been 5 months since I last posted about the red chair. Not all was lost by the way, turns out someone moved it and it is still around. I did see it in the snow, and well, it wasn't as exciting as I was hoping it would be.
So today, I am putzing around while I wait to head to the hospital at 12:30. I begin a long day of lectures, and then I am on call overnight. I think about this, and realize that there is humour in the world. I'm going to bitch one last time and then wash my hands of it:
This weekend was planned by my husband as my weekend 'off.' I haven't slept through the night since Dylan was born, and he decided it was about time, so he made the choice to take D and himself on a little journey to North Carolina so I could have some alone and quiet time, and a full night's sleep. Well, of course, I find out this week that I am on call Friday night, and I have another call day on Sunday. Right - that is TWO call days on my ONE weekend off in seven months.
Lemons, Lemonade, WHAT THE -- ?????
Oh well, maybe D will find some way to sleep without my feeding him soon enough. I have tried having him cry but man-oh-man does he scream - i mean SCREAM. It's bad enough we have to hear it, but I always think of the neighbours. Sorry guys.
Alrighty. On to more med school madness. I hear it ends... sometime.
chels
pax
Friday, May 15, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Red Chair
So my neighbours moved in downstairs last summer. A couple and their daughter. I'll say it, they're a little weird. But anyway, being on the ground floor, they kind of adopted our back lot behind the apartment complex and made it into a little gathering area. It's great - a hammock, a small table with chairs and some stumps, as well as a small basil and mint garden for all the residents to share. Someone else even brought down their grill and donated it to the cause - getting to know your neighbour.
Every morning I would make my coffee and stare out the back window at the set-up below. I would occasionally see the mother playing tea with her daughter, and would at times be delighted by the sounds of childrens' voices giddy in whatever play was at hand. While I was pregnant, I would conjure up images of enjoying days such as these with my soon-to-be-born son, and when said son did arrive, the hammock played a vital role in calming him down from time to time.
Then one day I was told that our couple had separated. He hadn't been seen in awhile, and we'd occasionally see the daughter and mother walking around the neighbourhood. The two of them would continue to have friends visit and play behind the building, as well as have lunch on the table and chairs.
As fall hit, I noticed that one of the chairs was red. What a sight it was, a full carpet of browns and yellows - the leaves scattered below the trees - and this one red chair. I was tickled, and delighted in the idea of a winter snow blanketing the ground and there, sitting steadfast, would be the red chair. I decided I would wait to take a picture until that time.
This past week we were blessed with a glorious snow which fell lightly and peacefully all day Monday. Roads, sidewalks, trees - all were coated with huge flakes, and the world turned white. Everett and I wanted to take a drive into the area nearby to look at the sprawling estates and farms to see the tranquility offered by acres of untouched snow. I drew excited, and grabbed the camera to finally take a picture of my red chair!
But it was gone.
In the month of January I have transitioned into a full-time working mom, leaving sometimes before light even touched my window, and returning after it had withdrawn from our sky. I never noticed that the squeaky voice that peppered the sound below me had disappeared, and that a male voice had taken over. It was frigid... of course there were no tea parties - but there was no one to participate, either.
I have been struggling with the message that I am to receive on this one... for "good things come to those who wait" isn't quite fitting the bill. I miss my red chair. I never got my photo. I can still picture it in my head, often like Steven Speilberg saw that little girl in the red dress in Schindler's List - the one colour of hope in a very black and white world.
Ah, perhaps I'm not supposed to learn a thing... maybe I'm just supposed to have this one reminder of the seasons, and the eternal lesson of mother nature - that everything does indeed ebb and flow, and things change, go away, and morph right before your eyes, usually when you least expect them to.
Cheers to that.
pax
Every morning I would make my coffee and stare out the back window at the set-up below. I would occasionally see the mother playing tea with her daughter, and would at times be delighted by the sounds of childrens' voices giddy in whatever play was at hand. While I was pregnant, I would conjure up images of enjoying days such as these with my soon-to-be-born son, and when said son did arrive, the hammock played a vital role in calming him down from time to time.
Then one day I was told that our couple had separated. He hadn't been seen in awhile, and we'd occasionally see the daughter and mother walking around the neighbourhood. The two of them would continue to have friends visit and play behind the building, as well as have lunch on the table and chairs.
As fall hit, I noticed that one of the chairs was red. What a sight it was, a full carpet of browns and yellows - the leaves scattered below the trees - and this one red chair. I was tickled, and delighted in the idea of a winter snow blanketing the ground and there, sitting steadfast, would be the red chair. I decided I would wait to take a picture until that time.
This past week we were blessed with a glorious snow which fell lightly and peacefully all day Monday. Roads, sidewalks, trees - all were coated with huge flakes, and the world turned white. Everett and I wanted to take a drive into the area nearby to look at the sprawling estates and farms to see the tranquility offered by acres of untouched snow. I drew excited, and grabbed the camera to finally take a picture of my red chair!
But it was gone.
In the month of January I have transitioned into a full-time working mom, leaving sometimes before light even touched my window, and returning after it had withdrawn from our sky. I never noticed that the squeaky voice that peppered the sound below me had disappeared, and that a male voice had taken over. It was frigid... of course there were no tea parties - but there was no one to participate, either.
I have been struggling with the message that I am to receive on this one... for "good things come to those who wait" isn't quite fitting the bill. I miss my red chair. I never got my photo. I can still picture it in my head, often like Steven Speilberg saw that little girl in the red dress in Schindler's List - the one colour of hope in a very black and white world.
Ah, perhaps I'm not supposed to learn a thing... maybe I'm just supposed to have this one reminder of the seasons, and the eternal lesson of mother nature - that everything does indeed ebb and flow, and things change, go away, and morph right before your eyes, usually when you least expect them to.
Cheers to that.
pax
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Anatomy of a Smile
It's January and I've found myself back at school/work and trying to keep my head above water. Nursing, pumping, maintaining interest in what i'm doing, maintaining a relationship with my overworked/used husband, keeping financial disaster at bay, etc. etc.
whew. i'm winded just thinking about it, and it's my day OFF!
Dylan is almost 4 months now, and he can take your mind away from all the crap with a single smile. He has this huge, mouth agape kite-shaped smile that seems to want to consume everything in the room he has just lit up. It makes my heart melt, and sigh knowing there are many more milestones that I will not be able to experience all the time. I'm glad to no end that Everett is at home with him. I love him even more for wanting to be there.
I suppose all the things that are rocking my world are side steps to becoming a bigger stronger person, able to raise and exist within a family, and more tolerant of small potatoes. I wish, though, that this pumping bonanza would be a little less inconvenient, stressful, and - i'll say it- painful. I can't believe i signed up for this!
And then i see him smile............
pax
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The Giving Tree
Tonight I began our bedtime routine normally enough... around 8:30 we start the bath, play for as long as Dylan wants or as long as the water remains warm (whichever comes first). Little man LOVES the tub. We sing, splash, float, wash, and now we walk and climb. Dylan loves to stand up and walk up and down the length of the tub - and I love to help him along.
After the tub, we have started to read to him. Goodnight moon has been our staple for the last few days, but I decided it was too short this evening. Thus, I grabbed The Giving Tree off our bookshelf and settled in for a cozy little read with my baby.
I suppose we never realize the depth of things at each encounter, until we face it again down the line. Tonight I re-read Shel Silverstein's words, and for the life of me, could not stop crying. So beautiful, so meaningful. So right for today's world.
We place such a price on things things things. It's all crap. All of it. I am watching my cat have the best time she's had in ages with a cotton ball. I asked someone at the toy store what to get a 1year old, and he said it didn't matter, the kid will only want to play with the box.
I hope I am able to convey to Dylan the importance of things not being important. Having the latest this that or other thing is not what defines us. We must find happiness in the little, the mundane, the everyday.
Thank you, Stephanie, for the book, and for reminding me of what really makes me happy.
chels
pax
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Quiet Time...
well hello blog world,
i have had my hands full with the little dude... but he's sound asleep at the moment so i thought i'd check in.
mommyhood is such a radically different experience than i had envisioned. better, worse - much more hectic. things occur daily that i wouldn't have even considered the day before... oh the learning curve is steep. but you do it, and prepare yourself for the next adventure.
i love our little dylan. he is sooo, so cute. a little man. i love when he stares into my eyes - looking for love, reassurance, quiet, guideance, confirmation... all of it. he's a good baby, and though he gets fussy, he's quite proper. most of the time his hands are gently closed over his belly as if he's paying respect to someone. maybe it's me... maybe it's no one... ah, doesn't matter it's just really cute.
anyway, i admit i get bored when he's asleep and i am alone in the house, but pretty much every moment he's awake makes it all worth while. i'm glad i've taken 12 weeks off instead of only 6. he's five weeks monday (2 days) and i can't imagine leaving him home in a week. he's too little, and i'm too new for that to be okay. i probably will think 12 weeks isn't enough either, but i'll deal with that later.
i think i owe a big thank you to whomever is guiding this universe... be it god, be it energy, be it the marionette holder. you've blessed me with a wonderful husband, and blessed us with this gorgeous person that we get to help grow. i am humbled.
chels
pax
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
AN-TI-CI-PATION
first let me begin by saying i do not like carly simon's song.
however, "we can never know about the days to come, but we think about them anyway..." sounds about right, right now.
it's been almost 9 whole months now (we'll never know really, will we?) and this little critter has been steadily growing inside me belly, and with it i have experienced feelings that i never considered i would have - namely being jabbed in the liver time and time again.
the love, the wonder, the amazement - and now the hurry up and wait. everett and i are so ready (dammit!) to meet this little fella! will he have big brown eyes? curly hair? hair at all? will he have stick legs and big feet like dad did? oy, this is not a chore for an impatient person!
at any rate, i suppose the point is - as my friend kate kindly put it - that the little man is clearly stating who is boss these days, and we are just going to have to deal with it. one day, one hour, one mini non-contraction cramp after another. one of these times it will be the real deal, and then the world as we know it will begin to change.
until then i'm keeping my date with that chicken salad at the cheescake factory, and will devour every last bite as a soon-to-be mom, instead of a bleary-eyed, sleep deprived (but nonetheless, a) mom.
chels
pax
however, "we can never know about the days to come, but we think about them anyway..." sounds about right, right now.
it's been almost 9 whole months now (we'll never know really, will we?) and this little critter has been steadily growing inside me belly, and with it i have experienced feelings that i never considered i would have - namely being jabbed in the liver time and time again.
the love, the wonder, the amazement - and now the hurry up and wait. everett and i are so ready (dammit!) to meet this little fella! will he have big brown eyes? curly hair? hair at all? will he have stick legs and big feet like dad did? oy, this is not a chore for an impatient person!
at any rate, i suppose the point is - as my friend kate kindly put it - that the little man is clearly stating who is boss these days, and we are just going to have to deal with it. one day, one hour, one mini non-contraction cramp after another. one of these times it will be the real deal, and then the world as we know it will begin to change.
until then i'm keeping my date with that chicken salad at the cheescake factory, and will devour every last bite as a soon-to-be mom, instead of a bleary-eyed, sleep deprived (but nonetheless, a) mom.
chels
pax
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