Sometimes I fear the closeness between mother and child | Offbeat Families

it's hard being his world

it’s hard being his world

This article: Sometimes I fear the closeness between mother and child | Offbeat Families is fucking brilliant. I am resonating so hard with all of it, but here are a few quotes I liked in particular…

Then they’re born of us, eat and sleep at our breast, explore in our arms, attached. As J crawled then walked then ran then climbed then explored I was so happy, every time, for that space between us. And yet no matter how far I travel, miles or overnights or weekends away, we’re always connected. I feel his presence inside me, as if he is still rolling in my belly, as if his tiny kicks are still fluttering in my chest. And I love that intimate bond, but I hate it. I love the closeness of mother and child, but I despise it, I’m freaked out by it, I’m panicked, almost, by how much I need to keep parts of myself for me, just only for me, secret to everyone but myself.

Holy hell that hits home for me. I don’t think I could ever, in a million years, have come up with such a fitting explanation of how I love the closeness, but yes, I need a tiny corner inside myself for myself.

She concludes with:

I’m scared of the day when he no longer sees me with those beautiful baby eyes that tell me I’m the moon and the sun and the sea and the fairy princess. But I’m also scared to never have myself back again, to never be alone with my thoughts, alone in my body, alone in my mind. We are of flesh and blood, tied together, after all. It’s a delicate balance between affection and autonomy, devotion and freedom. The intimacy of this mothering life gives me strength, it fulfills me, but it drains me in equal part

So, go read the article in its entirety, and tell me what you thought. What part struck you as the truest?

Scatterplot Thoughts


What’s with zombies these days? These kids really wanted to play zombie with Potamus…


“the Titanic went down because of distraction. Other ships had been warning about iceberg-filled waters for days, but the Titanics captain changed courses only slightly and did nothing to slow the ship’s speed. When the radio operator received a call froma ship that was surrounded by ice- this was aless than an hour before the collision-he responded, “shut up, shut up, I’m busy.” By the time lookouts spotted the iceber ahead, itw as too late to slow the Titanic’s momentum.

Although over used, the Titanic is a chillingly accurate metaphor for our time. Distracted people don’t notice they are in danger. Rumi said, “Sit down and be quiet. You are durnk and this is the edge of the roof.” Margaret Wheately

Whoa, right? Why do I picture myself checking facebook on my phone while crashing my life into an iceburg? What can I do to steer off course? Is it too late? Have I been heeding the warning or yelling “shut up, shut up, I’m busy?”


It’s not about getting my old body back. I’m a mother now, I don’t want to go back. It’s about strengthening the body that I have.

I had that thought one night and posted it as a facebook status, getting a few likeminded and some non-likeminded responses. It’s not that I am advocating eating Domino’s pizza everynight for dinner. It’s about finding strength and beauty in who I am right now, not trying for an elusive past, because going back would mean not having Potamus. I’ve been doing some body love in the form of yoga, even an early morning venture on Monday when I had 4 hours of sleep and was crabby and wanting to call in sick. The sun salutations didn’t solve my migraine 5 hours later in full administrative mode, but it did help me get to work and not suck at life for a few minutes despite being exhausted.


Potamus is 16 months old and securely walking. Last night’s jaunt around the neighborhood (a good 1/2 mile loop) was mostly walked independently, with some moments of crawling and some moments of daddy picking him up (screaming…the kid that is…) to gain some forward movement in the journey homeward. So my kiddo is walking, but still the toothless wonder. Though I’ve started to see his one top tooth barely breaking skin, which means it’s going to be any day now that he’ll have a full set of teeth…sorta sad…I love that gummy smile!


It’s not just in adoption land where I get frustrated at a lack of medical history. Potamus has a double ear-infection that I got an appointment for last Wednesday. They’ve had to bump up the antibiotics because he’s been using the amoxicillian like it’s candy…but the new medicine caused vomitting. Turns out I had the SAME reaction as a kiddo. Thanks Mom and Dad for not letting me know…and my mom even said, “but you didn’t ask us if you had a reaction to it.” Um…yeah…because I’m supposed to know to ask…why didn’t you volunteer the information when I was talking about his countless ear infections and the medicine they were putting him on? Why? Because they don’t think about things like that, since growing up they got used to us not sharing any medical history with them. They forget that my son is biologicaly connected to me and is going to show some major traits that either I, or Boof, have.


Weekly mom meetups with two of my friends is HAPPENING! We did wine + chocolate last week, and this week we’re heading on up to Fremont’s Red Door for some lunch. I love being able to hang out with friends that became moms because we’re all in the same sleep-deprived boat. And there’s no drama. Drama is exhausting.



could my baby look any more like a BOY? sheesh. he’ll be driving next week…

Morning Sweet Pepper

Times I feel like a Badass Mama

Blanket Fort

Blanket Fort

There are days when I struggle, and then there are days when I wake up and make a blanket for with my kid.  And then, to feel increasingly more like a badass mama, I whipped up some homemade banana bread with the rotting fruit on my counter. I even decided to fore-go the walnuts, since Boof’s not a big fan (though, he’ll be lucky if there’s any bread left by the time he gets home from work).

Banana Bread sans walnuts

My awesomeness might wear off this afternoon, since I’m having difficulty breathing (yay bronchitis), but so far Potamus is down for a nap and I’ve started a delightfully creepy Seattle-based crime shown on Netflix. Well, it’s not THAT good of a show, but I’m a sucker for all things local, and the appeal of streaming an entire season in one afternoon is pretty neat-o.

I’m not sure where my attitude adjustment really came from, but I read this quote on pinterest yesterday:

remember you are not managing an inconvenience, you are raising a human being. -kittie franz

I’ve got to admit. I sometimes think of motherhood as an inconvenience. I often want to just do my own thing, and raising a munchkin is pretty much the opposite of free-time. But when I take moments to not get so wrapped up in television/facebook/reading a novel/putting on makeup, I realize that this is actually pretty darn fun. AND my kid is pretty darn independent, to be honest, and I enjoy seeing him toodling around the house cooing to himself and trying new inventive ways of climbing into a cabinet or endlessly putting toys in his shoebox. And, how can you not love the sweet post-nap bed-head?


Adoption Quotes

“I have four children. Two are adopted. I forget which two.” Bob Constantine
I read this quote recently, on an adoption agency sponsored Facebook page. I received a lot of likes, and a few witty comments by adoptive parents about how it applied to their life or things like, ” I have two adopted kids, you guess which, I love them the same.”
I wanted to respond, but “bit my tongue,” because I don’t need to get sucked into an online comment war on a publicly sponsored page. But what irks me about comments like that, is how invalidating it is for the adoptee. Sure, in theory, it’s nice to know that that dad loves his children equally, but what it feels like, is that adoption is forced into fitting the exact same mold as biological families. Because, while I love and consider my parents my parents, I have never forgotten that I am adopted, and that they are my adoptive parents.
And similarly, now that I have a child, I KNOW that I could never forget giving birth to him. And if I ever were to adopt, I am sure the experience would be very different than giving birth to Potamus. So, I feel that quotes like this are invalidating and gloss over the differences that can be nurtured and honored rather than swept under the rug.