A Charmed Life

Fillet of Soul

Well, I'm back home, recovering from my richocet through three different time zones in as many weeks and the crankiness of an otherwise adorable toddler who is teething all four canines at once and who didn't let me sleep for more than 5.5 hours a night, total.  I did have a wonderful time in CO with my family and friends, both old and new (nice to finally meet you, J!), and I'll post the photographic proof as soon as I'm sure my computer is going to hold together (it has spent the day using up the rest of my precious sanity). 

I won't mince words, though.  I'm stressed out beyond belief.  I love to travel and I thought it would help to get away and see everyone- which it did- but it was sort of a mixed blessing.  I had way too much time in the car to listen to country music and think about everything in my life that is currently too much resembling of said country music.  Memories are great and all, but in the past month I've had about all the nostalgia I can take.  From New Jersey to Florida to Colorado, I've said hello and goodbye to most of my closest friends and family in the past thirty days.  I hate saying goodbye.  Even the word itself stinks, because there's nothing good about it. I need to not be so far away anymore.  My family is everything to me and I realize now I'm just lost without them.  (So, does anyone in the Boulder, CO area need a good private chef?)

The one thing I haven't lost is my sense of humor, though.  Another partially mixed blessing, because I could probably crack a joke if I were bleeding to death and nobody would realize what was going on. (I remember being in elementary school when Reagan was shot, and thinking how cool he was for joking with the doctors in the ER.)  When I was in labor with my daughter, I remember our doula being amazing that I kept a comedy routine going the entire time, even through transition.   It's just something I do, and it's a blessing to me that I can constantly find something to laugh at no matter how bad I feel.  Anyway, while I was staying at my friend T.'s house last week, I noticed a bottle of "Stress Coat" on her bathroom sink.  For  those of you not aquatically inclined, it's a dechlorinator and synthetic slime coat for aquarium fish who lose that protective coating when they're stressed out.  I had to fight the urge to smooth it all over my body like lotion.  Then I read the label, which stated, "Not for use on fish intended for human consumption".  Poor little guys...wouldn't those be the fish that were the most freaked out?  I say, if you're a tasty little trout or a mouth-watering mahi mahi, grab yourselves a big bottle of this stuff and slap it on your scales pronto- you've now removed yourselves from the human portion of the food chain.

Hmm, maybe this is why so many of my friends live far away...so they won't have to listen to my jokes?

I did take one important step this weekend in going back to my roots and getting my life back in order.  For the first time in almost 20 years, I went back to the Catholic Church.  Say what you will- I know the Church isn't perfect by a long shot.  But it's part of who I am, and I needed to go back home.  Of course, that meant going to Confession, which in the many years since I've I've been gone has been changed to "Reconciliation".  I bit my tongue and didn't mention that I can barely reconcile my checkbook, never mind my eternal soul.  I was sweating bullets, standing in line for the hour before Saturday night Mass started.  I thought of the last time I'd attended a Catholic Mass, and had to squelch that thought because it started me crying- the sounds and the smell brought me right back to the cathedral where we'd held my mother's funeral.  Then to distract myself I thought of the time before that, when as a teenager my boyfriend's family took me to Saturday night Mass with them.  I'd never been to a regular Mass with my own family (long story, but we only went to church during the three years we attended parochial school), and I remember feeling like such a hypocrite for having impure thoughts during the service.  (OK, not that impure, I was still a nice Catholic girl, after all.)  That didn't help as much as I thought it would, because it got me feeling homesick and old, and the church still smelled like my mom's funeral, and just when I thought I would be OK and it was finally my turn to unburden myself, the very nice priest stepped out of the confessional and apologized that since he was the only one there that evening, he had a Mass to perform and I was welcome to take Communion anyway and see him afterwards.  I had just enough time to avert my eyes before bursting into tears and heading to my car.   

If you've never had a genuine panic attack, you might be scoffing at me at this point.  But I'd had it.  A month of traveling, dealing with my dad and a toddler alone, lack of sleep, nightmares...it was too much.  And as much of a people person as I am, I get very nervous in strange places, especially if I don't have someone there holding my hand, or at least have my adorable daughter held in front of me like a shield.  I didn't let it keep me away this time, though.  A change of clothes, a cool drink, a snack, and a Xanax (and a few vitamin B's, thanks to my SIL), and I was back in line...and back home, to stay.  I even got a great big hug from the very nice priest, who said I looked like I needed one.

So there's my fish story, for now.  I guess if I were to write my own country song at this point, I'd say something to the effect that Jesus is a fisherman but he won't throw me back.  Or that God is the stress coat when your life is starting to tank.  See, this is why I don't write song lyrics.  I should probably just stick to singing scales ;)

It's good to be Home.

This is Dedicated to the One I Love

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, my very first, and unfortunately the first without my mom.  To make it more of a special day and less of a sad one, I scheduled Persephone's baby dedication during tomorrow's service.  For those who are unfamiliar with Unitarian Universalism, this is the UU church's way of welcoming a baby into the congregation.  The parents state what they wish for their child, and the congregation pledges to support the child in her spiritual path.  I've included the letter I wrote for her dedication in its entirety, so that any friends or family that can't make the service can be a part of her day, too.  Plus I'm just proud of it, because it was very hard for me to write something emotional the day before Mother's Day.  I didn't think I would still be so raw, but I am, so I will just smooch the daylights out of my child even more, because my mom would do that if she were here, and I'll just pray that somehow she can see that I love my daughter like she loved me.  So here goes...

Dearest Persephone,

We’ve waited so very long for this day, to stand here in church in front of all of our friends, as a family, to tell you how much we love you and share all our dreams for you.  We’ve done this before, on our wedding day, when we promised each other love and adventure, and became a family of two.  But we knew even then that there were greater adventures in store for us, and that our family wouldn’t be complete until you joined it.  Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a baby in their lives, so we know how lucky we are to have you.  Feel free to read this to us about seventeen years from now, when you are begging for your first car.

We’re supposed to talk about what we wish for you.  Parents wish for a lot of things for their children.  We wish you would grow up, get a full scholarship to Stanford, become an anesthesiologist, and support your poor parents in their old age in the lifestyle to which they wish to become accustomed.  But if wishes were horses, we’d all be knee-deep in manure.  So we’ll tell you what we want for you instead.

We want you to know that we love you always, no matter what.  That’s non-negotiable.  That doesn’t mean that you’re free from the consequences of your actions…it  just means that losing our love won’t be one of them.  We want you to know that you will always be free to find your own path.  Just make sure that there’s a cell tower somewhere along it and remember to call your mother, because she worries. 

We want you to respect yourself.  Always remember that you are deserving of respect, simply by being the wonderful person that you are.  Treat others with respect as well, even if you don’t like them.  It speaks more to your character than theirs.  Be kind and courteous, and try and find the best in people.  You never know how often others are giving you the benefit of the doubt.

We want a loving family for you.  That’s a big part of the reason we’re here today, because a loving family can be found anywhere, whether or not you’re related, and you have lots of aunties and uncles and grandparents that love you right here in this room.  We want you to find a special person to find love and make a family with, too.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s a man or a woman, because nobody will ever be good enough for our baby anyway, so pick whoever makes you happy. 
Happiness.  That’s what we want for you.  We don’t know how to tell you to get there, only that we’re always here for you when you feel sad.  But we can tell you that you will get there, because it’s inside you…because you’ve brought us happiness beyond measure.

Love always,

Mommy and Daddy

That's all, folks.  Happy Mother's Day to everyone I couldn't handle buying a card for...Sephie and I will make it up to you next year.

Karma and Grieg

One of the subjects that's been churning around in my mind lately, having just given birth to a daughter and lost my mother, is religion, and questioning what I truly believe.  I was baptized Roman Catholic (at the Vatican, no less, the day after Christmas...I always picture a janitor sweeping up after Midnght Mass in the background), but am now a Unitarian Universalist.  For the uninitiated, UUism is what I like to call the "Un-cola" of religions, a wonderful blending and merging of traditions and ideals and acceptance.  Just about the only generalization one can make about UUs is that they love coffee =)  But I digress. 

I still consider myself to basically be a Christian, except that I also have some other "radical" non-Christian beliefs, like my trust in karma.  Heck, for one thing, you've got to believe that some people are gonna get what's coming to them, if only to keep your sanity.  I believe that if you give freely and from your heart, you will receive tenfold.  I think you can clean up your karma in this life, too, and I have proof:  so far, I have escaped the "mother's curse".  You all know this one...say it with me, "I hope, someday, you have a child EXACTLY like you".  Heaven knows I deserved it, because I put my poor mother through Heck, if not actual Hell.  A 30-hour labor, milk allergy, colic till I was probably thirteen...then your typical rocky mother-daughter relationship...I knew I was in for it when I had a daughter.  But then my mom got sick, and we got closer and closer until it seemed like we were one person again.  I was blessed with a short, natural labor, a healthy baby girl who slept just fine right away, and barely ever cries.  I joke about the "mother's curse" being lifted, but I'm really not saying that all those typical sleepy moms and crying babies out there aren't just as blessed as I am.  (I am saying "NYAAAH NYAAH", and ducking.) What I am saying is that I truly believe that God or the Universe or Whoever was out there listening and gave me what I needed..an easy baby who didn't give mommy a nervous breakdown during a very difficult time in her life.

I also think that the Universe doesn't always speak in subtle whispers.  There are times when you don't have the strength to go just on faith, when you need to hear loud and clear that things are going to be OK.  Jesus let his doubting Thomas poke him in the ribs (some friend,eh?) to prove he was resurrected so that Thomas didn't have to grieve any more than he had to.

My mother was an excellent pianist, and one of her favorite pieces to play was "Wedding Day at Troldhaugen" by Edvard Grieg.  She played it for my then-fiance and me after he asked my dad's blessing to marry me.  She loved it so much that we buried it with her.  It's a gorgeous piece, but even though I've been to many a classical concert, I've never heard it anywhere but from my mother's piano. Not to say that it's obscure, because it isn't...but I've sure never heard it.  One night soon after returning home from her funeral, my husband and I decided to go out to dinner at a new Italian buffet restaurant down the street.  We'd never been...we just had a coupon.  In the middle of dinner, loud and clear over the PA system, came the opening strains of "Wedding Day".  The rest of the music that played that night wasn't even classical. 

So there you have it.  I could choose to believe that it was an idle coincidence, of course.  But things are real and exist whether we can see them in front of our faces or not, and who's to say that the notes of a piano playing are any less a wondrous message than the singing of a bird, the giggling of a baby or the wind through the trees.  We can't really explain the existence of any of them.  In the eyes of any Almighty, I believe that they are equal.  And I believe that my mom said hi with a little dinner music, one last time.