Photos-The Half Truth Edition

For the past year I have seen many blogs about how the pictures we post on social media show a skewed view of life. And while I have always fundamentally agreed that yes, rarely do people show pictures on Instagram where they add a filter over their bulging anger face veins in a true-to-this-moment selfie. But I’ve also said that those picture moments are JUST AS REAL as the moments right before or after. They show one part of the story.

My opinions fundamentally haven’t changed on that opinion, but I have had two experiences in the past week that have caused me to be frustrated with my own portrayal of my life and emotions on social media. Because I have posted pictures of cool things, or times when I am smiling for the camera but am seething on the inside because all of my introverted faculties are being bombarded by an overwhelm of stimuli and I want to punch somebody in the face. In real life, I am a terrible faker. People know how I’m feeling from about 100 yards away, and those who can’t quite figure out my emotions usually assume it’s bad and steer clear of me unless I’m obviously putting out happy-clappy vibes. But on social media…that’s where I am good at faking.

For example…this sweet moment:

The reason we’re at this super sweet park is because my parent’s pissed me off at YET ANOTHER Christmas get together. They told me to “watch my tone” when I was frustrated about the noise level and the fact that Potamus was melting down and we still had three hours to go until the party was over. So while I snapped this adorable picture, I was actually standing outside in the cold without a coat or a sweater, and was trying to calm myself down. Potamus hadn’t napped, was way over stimulated, and we clearly both needed a little fresh air to cool off. But this pic got slapped up to Instagram and Facebook and it looks so sweet, and truthfully the moment WAS sweet, but inside I was seething.

Then there’s this moment, where I’m snuggled up with my sister…who actually turns out to have had a 102.5 fever. We’re mugging for the camera, and all is going well with us, but I am completely overhwelmed by the noise and heat and stimulation happening in my aunt’s house at this point. I’m holding it together for the pciture, but can you see the way I’m gripping the table and my sister’s arm like please keep me sane.

And all those adorable pictures from MOHAI? Reason that nobody else was in them was because my in-laws were clearly in a pissy mood, and so I decided to do the tour by myself. I enjoyed myself, truly, but was also freaking annoyed at yet another family function that turned into a shit storm because there are too many opinionated people trying to run the show.

I know that my photos tell a truth. They might not tell the WHOLE truth, which is what’s going on in my head, versus what’s happening around me, versus what I want to be happening. But I still stand by them, even those these last few interactions I’ve taken have actually felt cruddier than others. I know I’ll look back and know that there were sweet moments where I have seen Potamus grow, but I hate that there’s a discrepancy between what I sometimes feel, and what I look like in a photo…though who wants to look like a bitter uncomfortable hag in every photo? Haha!

What’s your thoughts/opinions on photos posted to social media? Photos in general?

MOHAI (Museum of History and Industry)

The day after Christmas we headed out to MOHAI with Boof’s family. It’s an old Naval building on South Lake Union, and it is full of interesting Seattle artifacts and history. Now, normally I am not one to get really interested in museums, they have to be done really well for me to even want to bother taking a look at them. And I was surprised at how neat this museum was! Maybe in a year or two I’ll take Potamus there!

What I really liked was all of the iconic Seattle displays, like the Rainier Brewery sign, and the airplane hanging from the ceiling. While some people like reading all of the little signs, I am much more inclined to get a general overall sense of the history in the Big Picture sense. So I flew through most of the museum in a little over an hour, and could see myself going back to get a more in depth view of all the little interesting tidbits I might have missed the first time.

iconic Seattle sports memorabilia

A place where we were asked “what would make Seattle better?”

My favorite part of the whole museum was an art gallery decorated with pen and ink sketches that had been watercolored over. I thought that this type of art was both beautiful and would make a really amazing mural in someone’s house. Wouldn’t a little painted scene like that look so cool on a kid’s room? Or in a kitchen somewhere? I could have spent an entire hour in that gallery. There was a little section that provided sketchbooks for you to draw a bit of some urban scenery out the windows. I love clever ideas to get patrons involved in the art experience!

Bye bye kingdome!

So, if you’re in Seattle, as a resident or a visitor, and have a few hours to spare, I definitely recommend checking this museum out! Not only will you get a better sense of where the city has come from, you’ll experience it in a visually stunning way!

Surviving the Holidays with a 2 year old

Good Lord the holidays are rough for little ones. Two days later and I still feel like we’re suffering the aftershocks from an almost week long sleep schedule fuckery celebration. While Potamus has been remarkably flexible with the over abundance of shiny wrapped things and sugary snacks, everyone has a limit. At 6:30 pm on Christmas night he was just DONE. Throwing things around my in-laws’s house, screaming, stomping, and just generally melting into a toddler sized puddle.

Thankfully, I have some quiet memories to savor when I look back on our time. There was the sweet Christmas morning, when, for the first time since Boof and I have been married, we woke up in our own home, and did our own Christmas routine. Boof made chocolate chip pancakes, and I wrapped a few small gifts that I bought for less than $20 at Value Village. It was maybe an hour of sweetness, but those moments are things I’ll treasure. It felt right and good for me to advocate for OUR family, rather than taking everyone else’s schedule into account. Sure he tore through the gifts in aproximately 45 seconds, and the dog had half chewed the toys by 10am, but the sweetness, of snuggling on the couch with our pancakes and seeing the twinkly tree in the corner, was totally worth it.

We’ve all survived. Potamus is still weaned, which feels freaking amazing. We’ve somehow managed to create a sweet little bedtime routine and he’s falling asleep on his own. Sure he still wakes up and comes into our bed to snuggle for the rest of the night, but one thing at a time, right? We have one more holiday party, on Sunday, to gear up for, and I’m hoping that after that things will go back to relative normalcy around here. He’ll be back in school, and with the exception of New Years, there won’t be any real changes to the schedule. I have so much compassion for families with more than 1 little person around, as it’s hard, on the kids, the parents, everyone. It’s both magical and so hard for all involved. I wish somehow there was a way to get off the crazy train and make it like that calm morning pancake memory.

How was your holiday season? Did your kids behave or get totally wound up? How do you deal with all the craziness?

 

Merry Yogamas

This morning, after presents were opened and pancakes devoured, I got the privilege to attend a silent yoga class. The same 26 bikram postures we practiced, but our teacher led us quietly through the poses, only telling us when to begin and when to end. There were fifteen of us breathing and sweating in unison, and the atmosphere was one of joy in the midst of the crazy holiday around us.

I’m so thankful this practice is changing my life.

I’m Not the Angry One

It was an emotionally exhausting journey across the mountains. Potamus slept until Issaquah (which is about…um…thirty minutes), and then cried until we got to Cle Elum for a snack. And then he ate a lot of french fries, and cried some more because he was out of water, and then he was content for five minutes down the road before he started to scream again because he had pooped.

We had three stops on the “2.5 hour” drive. It was hell. There might have been a ten minute stretch where I plugged my ears and shut my eyes (I wasn’t driving) and tried to notice my breath like I did when I was in labor or in Savasana in yoga. It helped me to keep myself from hurling out of the speeding car at 70 mph.

But other than that, the trip was brilliant. There was a wound-up kiddo who loved his gifts, and plenty of cupcakes that induced sugar highs for all of us, and maybe some good natured teasing. I even managed to only shout one time, out of passion and not anger, about how cool I actually think The Pope is (because my dad insinuated he was evil because he was ‘Marxist,’ which I later debunked). And then, about ten minutes until we left, the shit hit the fan. Somehow my dad managed to start yelling at me and saying that I had been yelling at him and it became a crazy convoluted argument about who-the-fuck-knows-why, of which I left feeling confused and sad and might have cried for twenty minutes until we got out of the city limits. Ad if you know me, you know that I cry approximately every 2 years, so it’s a pretty freaking big deal.

Because no matter what I do, I somehow am always pegged as the ‘angry one’ in the family. I’m tired of having a perfectly good time and still not ‘doing it right enough,’ to show my family t hat I’m not the angry  depressed teenager I used to be. But somehow in pouring my heart out to Boof, I realized…I am not the angry one. I haven’t ever really been the angry one. In fact, my dad, who has been so pegged as jovial and overly rational (let’s sit down and discuss this conflict using I statements) is actually the angry one. He is angry. I am not. And that realization shifted something in me.

I am not angry.

Knowing that he is angry relieves me. It makes sense for why he’s been lashing out and blaming me for things that I didn’t actually do. I don’t know why he’s angry, what hes’ bottled up over the years, but that’s not my job to figure out. My job is to work on myself, which I have been doing in therapy, and it’s my job to continue to treat him compassionately. So while I don’t like having to have experienced that explosiveness earlier today, I do like the insight, because now I feel like I am better prepared to handle myself in the future.

What have you learned about your parents over the years that has re-shaped how you view yourself, your childhood, or them?

How Child Led Weaning Worked for Us

This summer I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and the act of nursing was contributing to my overwhelm. I had no idea how hard the weaning process would be, and wrote about it over on Offbeat Families in an article entitled “I knew breastfeeding might be hard, but had no idea weaning was impossible.”  I knew, then, that my goal for Potamus was to be done at 2 years, but I tempered that desire with my deep philosophical heart belief that it wasn’t set in stone, because there are two people in this nursing relationship. And so I powered through some rough toddler months and then we found our groove again.

Ultimately I kept thinking about our weekend away, in December, as my end-goal. Boof and I had never been away overnight, and I figured that the slowing down of the nursing relationship might end in a gradual *poof* it’s gone and then we would come back and suddenly ‘mama snacks’ wouldn’t be available. We left on Friday the 13th, my 31st birthday, and I remember thinking ‘this is me giving me the gift of my body back. I’m not going to nurse him anymore.” And I was sad, and nostalgic.

And it didn’t happen.

When we returned from our ‘trip,’ of course he was clingy excited to see us, and desperately needed some comfort for bedtime routine. And so, banishing the voice in my  head to ‘stick to your guns! don’t let him win!,’ I “gave in,” and nursed him. And it was sweet. And tender. And everything he needed.

Four days later, on the eve of his 2nd birthday, when changing him into his jim-jams, Boof asked, “you want some mama-snacks buddy?” (our cue for nursing), and Potamus shook his head  no. He grabbed his water bottled, snuggle down with me, and sipped himself to sleep holding my hand. Just like that, he weaned himself. And the next night, when he made his sign for mama snacks, and I said, “just cuddles buddy,” he hunkered down without a peep and promptly fell asleep. There was no wailing and gnashing of teeth, just peaceful sleeping next to his mama.

A few nights have gone by, now, and he hasn’t asked for mama snacks again. He sometimes reaches down my shirt to feel meh boobies, but mostly it’s hand holding and water-sippin’ for this little man. The transition even managed to carry over to a new place, since we spent two nights on the other side of the state and he had to get used to sleeping in a new bed with me. I couldn’t be more pleased. It was hard to make it work to fit both of us, but I am so happy that he’s happy and that giving up nursing wasn’t a traumatic event for either of us. I hope that in the future, if I ever have another child. I follow my instincts again…

Happy 2nd Birthday!

 

Today my baby is 2 years old! I want to write more, about all the delightful changes and stages he’s going through right now, but I’m hosting a small pizza party in an hour and need to get the house prepped for his birthday guests. In the meantime, enjoy the picture progression…time sure does fly by!

 

Saving Mr. Banks- A Movie Review

I grew up with unlimited access to books, and limited access to movies. There was the allowed Winnie the Pooh, and some Disney princess films, and old timey Haley Mills films (of which The Parent Trap wasn’t high on my favorite list). Of course, Mary Poppins was on the approved list, though I remember only really loving the laughter scene, and the children’s acting in the movie that came after (The Gnomemobile…because what little girl doesn’t want to be a gnome princess?). So, when Boof suggested that our anniversary afternoon date should be spent watching a movie, one about the making of Mary Poppins, I was less than thrilled. But the options were so limited, and I figured that I could at least stand a two hour film, and HOLY COW I WAS SO WRONG TO ASSUME IT WAS GOING TO BE LAME!

This movie was awesome. It was about the author of the Mary Poppins book, and how the book became adapted to the big screen. But what I was fascinated by, was that it wasn’t some boring account of how she finally curmudgeonly agreed to make the film adaptation, as well as how she ended coming up with the concept in the first place. Overall it was a beautifully produced film, where I felt transported to different times and felt lots of strong emotions. I loved it. I loved it more than the film it was based off.

My only complaint was that Tom Hanks will always be Tom Hanks. While Walt Disney is super iconic, and Tom Hanks did a good job of coming close, I think that using a no name actor might have been more believable. It’s not so much how Tom Hanks looked, as more of how he sounded like Tom Hanks…so iconic. But the magic of the whole story line wasn’t interrupted too  much by my thinking of Apollo 13 or Forrest Gump.

So, if you’re looking for a good, nostalgic, movie to watch over the holiday season, I definitely recommend Saving Mr. Banks!

Vacation Hangover

 

Bye bye hotel. Bye bye vacation. The cruel trick of coming home from a few days in a new reality. It’s like coming off a drug, where you don’t simply go back to the normal baseline, but take a dip into depression before the bouncing back happens. Our final meal together, at our hometown brewery, only a few minutes away from home, I could feel us slipping back into the REAL us, not the vacation us that held hands and flirted and drank too many mimosas to keep track. Our return felt right, but the crumbs on the carpet grated against our nerves, and we slipped into checking our phones and trying to catch up on all our DVR’ed shows. The baby was clingy. The dog was barking. The grandparents wanted to hear, and tell, every detail of the weekend.

It was like being hungover. That cotton mouth, shitty sleep, headachy feeling after a long night of drinking. I think it’s worth it to go on a vacation, especially since it had been two years since we’ve had an alone weekend, but the yucky re-entry feeling sometimes doesn’t feel worth it, you know? If it was shitty on the front end, maybe, but shitty on the re-entry…it’s almost enough to make me think about holding off on another vacation any time soon. Good thing I have my Albuquerque trip in 5 weeks to get my feet wet again!

Seattle Staycation

Boof and I spent the first nights without Potamus on a lovely Seattle Staycation. We were celebrating both my 31st birthday AND our 5th wedding anniversary, and while we do have dreams of travel again, this sweet winter-break tradition of heading into our beloved city stuck with us. This time, we stayed at The Max, which was a really cool indie pop themed hotel with a tiny room (with white sheets, glorious!) and a view of the Space Needle. It was heaven. A 15 minute drive from home, but it felt like worlds away.

On Friday night I squeezed into my engagement dress and we hoppped about the SLUT (South Lake Union Trolley gutter minds!) and headed over to my favorite steak restuarant: Daniels Broiler. It’s like heaven. Filet Mignon and garlic mashed potatoes, with a view of Lake Union and all of it’s boats lit up with festive Christmas lights. We joked, and held hands, and talked about the past five years and the next five to come. My favorite conversation was how we always manage to plan vacations around food…like the time to New York where we didn’t end up seeing many sights except on our way to eat hot dogs on Coney Island, or pizza at the ‘oldest’ place in little Italy, or the Woody Allen inspired pastrami sandwich. No matter how our politics or religious views ebb and flow over the years, we always have the foundation of our love of food and that if we were travel to Europe we’d rather see one museum in 3 weeks if it meant getting to sip cappuccinos and dine nightly on really good pasta.

Through the magic of Groupon and Living Social, our desires to eat and drink and be merry have intensified. Our Saturday morning was kicked off by bottomless mimosas and lots of laughter. We received many picture text messages from my parents, who were in charge of Potamus’s first time away from mama/dada, and it was cute to see how much fun he was having with them. It put my mind at ease, that we had made a really good decision to celebrate our love and get a few nights of uninterrupted sleep.

 

Five years of marriage. Two years of parenthood. Love.