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Mommy Mind
Category

  • So Much Forgiveness

    People suck. They can be selfish, entitled, thoughtless, rude and the more you are around them, the greater the chance they will piss you off. In adult relationships there are many options on how to deal with asshole behavior. You can avoid the person, write a snarly text message, confront them after a few drinks when feeling belligerent, pee on their lawn, or simply resentment the person and never talk to them again. When dealing with a young child, you don’t have these options because they don’t have a yard, can’t read, and it’s frowned upon to get wasted with them. You actually have to be the mature one and lead by example.

    Children are moody daughters of dicks. (Why does that not have the same ring to it as sons of bitches?) Their emotions fluctuate like climate change induced storms and it’s hard to anticipate when they are going to fly into a fit of fury. And as quickly as kids shit in your mouth with their emotional bile, they turn around and are as sweet as cancer-causing aspartame.

    This afternoon started out with The Munch acting like a gentle creature, similar to a friendly giant on pot brownies. She was considerate, wanted to help making a sandwich, and was generally in a dreamy state of lovingness. Until she wasn’t.

    I sat down on the couch to tell Munch a story, but she wanted to be where I was sitting, and for me to sit across from her on this wooden chair.

    Munch: Mamma, move over so I and sit here and you can sit there.
    Toni: Dude, I don’t want to move over. I am already sitting here.
    Munch: But I want to sit there!! I want you to sit across from me so I can look at you!
    Toni: Well then you sit on the wooden chair. I am comfy on the couch.
    Munch: No Mamma… you sit on that chair and I want to sit on the couch!
    Toni: No way.
    Munch: Okay fine. I will put these pillows on the chair and now you can sit on it.
    Toni: I want to sit here… you can sit there.
    Munch: NO MAMMA NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAHHHHAHHHAHHHAAAAAAHHHAAA!!! You sit there!

    Munch then cried like she was going for the Oscar, while I wondered why my kid was such a little twerp. Her whole logic was so egocentric. Did she really want me to be uncomfortable so she could live her OCD moment and frame the perfect shot for story time?

    Then I sat on the stupid wooden chair because I am a weak.

    Munch of course immediately stopped weeping and happily wanted me to tell her a story – but I was bitter at that point. Even though I could have stood my ground, I acquiesced and then begrudged her for it. Despite the fact that I wanted to pout, I couldn’t sulk because it was my own damn fault for catering to her demands. I put my big girl pants on, let it go, and moved on.

    Then later we got into an argument over treats because as you may know, I am living with a sugar addict.

    Munch: Mamma, can I have a treat. I had healthy stuff for lunch remember?
    Toni: Sure, what do you want?
    Munch: A chocolate popsicle.
    Toni: Ummmm we don’t have that. So you want a mango popsicle?
    Munch: No. A chocolate popsicle.
    Toni: I just told you we don’t have that. But I can give you some pieces of a special chocolate bar?
    Munch: Okay.
    Toni: Here you go. Four pieces because you are four years old.
    Munch: I actually want a big bar of chocolate.
    Toni: But you are already eating the pieces I gave you.
    Munch: Yeah, but I want just one big piece of chocolate bar. Not little pieces.
    Toni: Dude, you just ate all the pieces I gave you. You stuffed them in your mouth the whole time you were demanding more?
    Munch: I want a mango popsicle now.
    Toni: No way. I just gave you a delicious special treat because you didn’t want the mango popsicle.
    Munch: Waahhhhaaaa!!!!!!!!!! I WANT A MANGO POPSICLE!!

    She cried for ten minutes, threw her headband across the room, and stomped her feet while staring me in the face. This time I didn’t comply to her desires because that would be insane. The Munch had to play out her rebellion, while I managed her snarky comments.

    Munch: Mamma, if you don’t give me a treat I am going to throw you outside.
    Toni: I would like to see you try.
    Munch: Fine, then I will just spit in your face.
    Toni: Go ahead and see what happens.
    Munch: Fine. Just give me a treat then and I won’t do any of those things.
    Toni: Dude, there is no way.

    She continued to cry until she finally accepted she had lost the battle.

    Munch: Mamma, I love you so much. I’m so lucky.

    There is no way you can stay angry with someone after a proposition like that.

    Parents have these dynamics with their kids everyday, and forgiveness is an hourly affair. You both have to forgive each other constantly because there is so much tension and conflict when raising children. They want what they want because they are tyrants and parents have to keep them in check so they don’t stay that way.

    Most relationships and our larger society could benefit from this level of fluidity. If we admit we are basically are all just big babies trying to make it in this cruel world, we’ll remember that we are all always growing and evolving.

    so-much-forgiveness-blog-(i)

  • Worth The Sacrifice

    One of the things parents talk about most about their experience raising children is the endless eternal effervescent joy… just kidding. It’s sacrifice. How much you have to give up of your own individual desires for your little ones happiness, security, and wellbeing.

    All the effort you put in on behalf of your kid can sometimes feel thankless. Your child is still just a child, and they don’t really get how much you forgo for them. As far as they are concerned you love waking up at all hours of the night, making grilled cheese sandwiches that are just crispy but not too crispy, and listening to Frozen 89 times a day.

    There are times when The Munch acts like I am put on God’s green earth to serve her. Yeah taking care of her is what I signed up for by birthing her, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where I am like “put your own damn shoes on,” or long for the freedom I had once upon a time in a kingdom far far away. I love The Munch more than anything ever created, but there is a lot of stuff I can’t do because of her… like take a shit in peace.

    So the other day The Much and I had this conversation that became the catalyst to a truly cathartic moment. I had taken her to the park, and was pushing her the swing – providing about 7 million underdogs for her entertainment. Munch then decided she wanted to push her baby on the swing, so I stood aside and starting spacing out. At the other end of the park, there were these high school kids playing basketball. I was watching them shoot, flirt with each other, and express their overall nonchalance about life. They had no cares in the world besides impressing each other and trying to touch each others butts by “guarding.”

    Munch: What are you thinking about Mamma?
    Toni: Oh… I am just daydreaming.
    Munch: Do you wish you were over there playing basketball?
    Toni: Ummmm sorta….
    Munch: Yeah but you can’t because you have to stay here with me…
    Toni: Well, that is okay. I like being with you.
    Munch: It must be hard. You have to push me on the swing, play with my babies, give me underdogs. And then I sometimes whine and stomp my feet. I also yell when I am frustrated… And I keep asking for more and more underdogs.
    Toni: Ha… that is true.
    Munch: It must be hard having to do all this stuff for me when you want to go play basketball. It is not easy being a mom….
    Toni: (speechless)

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  • The Mother F’ing Routine

    Kids are like Rainman about their routines. Once something is done one way, that is how it has to be done until the end of time – or else prepare yourself for a hissy fit that embodies a cat in heat trapped in a sauna. I live in fear of what will be the next compulsion added to the Munch’s habitual expectations of the day.

    It starts like this. The Munch has a request. It may seem simple at the time. So I comply. Sure. You can wear your bathing suit in the bath. Why not? Then suddenly that is the new thing. She won’t take a bath without her goddamn bathing suit because now that is just the way shit is done. And god forbid you can’t find said bathing suit, because even the suggestion of bathing without one sends her into a fit of fury.

    I get it. Its about control, and kids wanting some power over their destiny. They latch onto routine because it calms their anxiety about how much of their life is dictated by the adults who keep telling them what to do. From a philosophical standpoint it makes sense that The Munch is vehemently attached to rituals. But holy fuck is it annoying when I have to wrap her in 5 towels (the green frog on the bottom, then Buzz Light year, followed by the orange one, the other orange one, and then finally topped with the monster) just to get her to brush her damn teeth.

    I try to see it as meditation – doing the same things the same way over and over. All ancient cultures have countless ceremonies that people participated in. It was part of their community, spirituality, and grounding of the self. The mindful practice of repetition was engrained in how humans behaved. But in my modern existence, the only thing I do everyday willingly is watch youtube videos and check Facebook.

    There is something that I resist so much about mundaneness. I know it is all about perspective and blah blah blah… but the tedium of monotony is maddening. Blame it on my ADD, but sometimes I just want to break out of the mold. There are nights were I want to say “fuck stories man, lets play poker instead!” But I guess it makes the Munch feel vulnerable to do things differently. For her, sameness is security. So I do my best to keep things consistent, although sometimes I worry I am enabling compulsive tendencies….

    mother-fing-routine-blog-(i)

    June 9, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Mommy Mind, Parenting, Toddler Thoughts • Views: 1059

  • Is It Okay To Be a Mom and Slutty?

    Mothering and sexuality seem to be a contradiction in terms.  The Madonna and whore duality is one that culture is obsessed with, and despite modern feminism, prevails – even though Madonna sometimes does slutty things.  Go figure.

    Recently I was talking to my friend about how it bothered her that her cousin always posts sexy picture of herself in her underwear on Facebook… mainly because her cousin is a young mother.  And it is not like my friend is some puritan from the 1800’s who somehow time traveled and got on a computer.  She is hip, and has the sides of her head shaved.  She is also painfully aware of how she knows she shouldn’t feel this way.  That posting pictures of yourself in a bra and panties doesn’t mean you are a skank, and even if it did what is wrong with being a skank anyway?  But still… despite her feminist values and awareness, she is still reacting against her cousin’s selfies.

    This made me think of how I felt when I recently saw Beyoncé’s performance at the Grammy’s.  It was really sexual.  You know, sitting on a chair with her legs at a 180-degree angle – and then gyrating while pumping her pelvis in a humping motion.  At first I was like “I wonder what Jay Z, her husband and the father of her child thinks of all this?” But then Jay-Z came out onto stage, and she proceeded to grind her v on his p as he tapped her ass to the beat.  And I remember thinking “She is a mom! She should not be doing that!”

    Okay… so what the hell is going on here? First, my rational is insane that I immediately went to questioning what the man in Beyoncé’s life would feel, and how he must disapprove of this behavior.  And then the irony that when Jay-Z openly showed that he did condone what she was up to, I saw him more as Beyoncé’s pimp then a progressive man who is liberated in his thinking.

    Even if Beyoncé hadn’t just had a child I still would have thought her dance moves were a little stripper-y, but I wouldn’t have had such a negative visceral reaction to it.  What is up with that? Why did I want Beyoncé to put on more clothes and perform with her knees tied together?  That makes no sense.  And you guys know me! I am vulgar, I have no boundaries, and philosophically I am not like this!  Was I suddenly possessed by a Christian fundamentalist, and if yes, isn’t that against the rules?

    I think all this ties into the breastfeeding argument as well.  I breastfed my kid until she was 3 years old.  I know breastfeeding is NOT a sexual act.  But people are still traumatized by the idea of someone feeding their child from their tit at the same place where they are eating their dinner.  When women’s sexy parts transform from the beauty of their form to the actuality of their function it makes people’s brains melt.  And it all goes back to the commodity of the female body.

    It is often said that prostitution is the world’s oldest profession.  Even if a woman has nothing, she still has her body to sell.  For thousands of years culture not only views the woman’s body as an object, but it actually is one in the world of capitalism. The vagina is seen as the recipient of the sex act – gaping and waiting to be filled.  Because her anatomy is one of passivity that the male member can enter regardless of her mental state, she can be a constant receptacle.   This gives her lady-hole value.  Her sex organs are sexualized because they have a real tangible price.

    But what happens when that same vagina is pushing something out of it? No longer just a socket to be plugged, but the canal for life! Then everything changes.  That vagina has a holy purpose.  It is a maker of miracles as it brings a being into this world.  How can you ever see that vagina the same way ever again?

    Maybe that is because we see sex as somewhat dirty and disgraceful.  Even beyond the religious propaganda, it is kind of raunchy what happens.  In contrast to our everyday lives, sex seems animalistic as we grunt and excrete fluids.  Perhaps our modern mind, which tries so hard to distinguish itself from the primal nature of the animal kingdom, doesn’t know how to reconcile this juxtaposition?

    So when I see Beyoncé working her puss like it is wanting to be penetrated I am like “hey! Wait a minute! Be careful with that thing… it is a special baby making pocket now.  You can’t just wave it around all willy nilly like that.  Take care of it!”

    Another thing I was thinking is that when lady’s display themselves like they are looking to get laid, it gives off the impression that getting plowed is a priority to them.  But what about your children! Aren’t they the one and only priority you should have!?  Obviously that is so untrue, and my kid is just one of many priorities, but that doesn’t mean I don’t impose this standard on other mom’s I see.  I hate to admit that I am indoctrinated to think that once mommy makes baby, mommy lives for baby and baby alone, because I don’t actually believe that. Yet I have this illogical expectation that I intuitively know is bullshit.

    Of course women who have had babies still want to be seen as sexy, especially because as we have established, women are conditioned to believe their sex appeal has an actual price.  Beyoncé not only wants to look like she still fucks, she also needs to still be fuckable in order for her brand not to lose its market value.

    So I guess it is totally okay for moms to be slutty just like it is okay for chicks to be slutty – but at the same time it is totally depressing that anything a woman does that is sexual is immediately seen as slutty just because in todays world you can buy and sell her like she was stock.

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    February 28, 2014 • Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 2218

  • How Much Time Do You Spend in Front of the Mirror?

    How much time do you spend in front of the mirror? Unless you are the witch in Snow White, do you really need more than a few minutes in the morning? You know, to make sure that you don’t have crusted drool.  But once you have established that there is no embarrassing residue, isn’t time to do something else?  Yet according to this article, the average woman spends an hour a day in front of the mirror!! That adds up to 2-weeks per year, and 5-months every decade of your life!! That is so much time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    “The survey found that women worry about their looks more than anything else — more than money, health, relationships, and their professional success, and that mothers were more likely than non-mothers to feel anxious about their looks (73% of mothers reported appearance anxiety versus 65% of childless women).

    Eight in ten women reported that they’d complained to someone about being fat in the last month; 77% say they worried aloud about being old.”

    When I read this I was blown the fuck away.  This inbreed insecurity about beauty is a pandemic, and there is no way I want to raise my daughter to waste this much time agonizing about her appearance.  So what is the solution?

    One of the catalysts to excessive mirror time is make up.  When you are in the habit of wearing lady-paint every day, you have to watch yourself decorate your face – otherwise things could get kind of funky.  So if you are going to be putting on make up, you are going to be looking at yourself doing it.  And you know what? There is nothing more depressing than studying your face in the mirror.  The human eye is trained to notice details, and any close study of any face will reveal imperfections.  Because we are all humans and we all have slight flaws.  Even models rip themselves apart – well they try, but it is hard with such nimble arms.

    So solution number 1… don’t wear make up! Sure if you are going out for a special occasion maybe, but why is there an expectation that we should wear this shit every day of our lives?  If we all collectively took a break from doing that, then there would be a new standard of what beauty is.  Not one that is smeared with dyes, but one that is just like, “hey, this is my face.”

    But we wear make up to look better, and we feel the need to look better because we look too closely at ourselves in the mirror putting on make up.  Do you see how this is a toxic feedback loop?

    I am 34 years old right now, and I don’t wear make up.  Maybe this is because I am lazy, or maybe because I don’t like to wash my face.  But according to my friends I make too many facial expressions, which is giving me wrinkles. If I were to look in the mirror and make faces at myself I would probably feel insecure because I would notice what they are noticing.  But because I don’t wear make up or make faces at myself in the mirror (because that would be insane), I don’t see that shit.  And I think I am happier for it.  It is not my goddamn problem what people see when they look at me.  In my head I look fine!  And here comes solution number 2.

    STOP WORRYING AND STRESSING!

    Stress and worry ages you.  Stress and worry releases stress hormones in the body.  This taxes your organs and damages their ability to function properly.  You want to do shots from the fountain of youth? Be happier! Release joyful oxytocin hormones in your brain.  Everything will work better inside your body making the outside of your body look better.

    My question is how do I raise my daughter to care more about the impending doom of our environmental destruction than her attractiveness, or how big her thighs are?  Even though I know she is an appealing creature and doesn’t need to feel insecure, there are plenty of pretty people who still have anxiety about their looks.

    Some believe you are never supposed to tell little girls they are beautiful because that makes them identify as that.  But if you never say they are lovely wouldn’t that potentially create a complex as well?  In trying to find a balance I still want to have the freedom to complement The Munch right?

    Toni: Munch, you are such a pretty girl.

    Munch: I know.

    What an interesting answer right? I know.  She knows she is a pretty girl.  Cool. So my challenge is to maintain this acknowledgement with the same level of value as any of the other complements I give her.  Like being a brave girl.  Or being a smart girl. Or a kind girl.  We should be able to acknowledge attributes about ourselves without ranking them to any specific hierarchy.  But as we exist right now, culture dictates that if you are a woman, being attractive is more valuable than anything else.  Which is why we worry about it more than anything else. Yet the only way we are going to stop this is to stop believing it, and to not let our daughters believe it either.

    Even though we can never deny the impact of societal pressures, that doesn’t mean we are helpless in this equation.  That is the thing about socialization and cultural influences… We are culture! And we are socializing our children! We are part of the problem! And even if we have our own hang ups, we don’t have to hang onto them.  We can choose to be different.  We can choose to be happy, we can choose to love ourselves, and we can choose to spend less time in front of the mirror.

    (Maybe I would like in the mirror more if my mirror wasn’t so dirty!)

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  • You Are Almost As Interesting as Me!

    What is your favorite subject to talk about? I bet I know!!!! Its YOU!

    Don’t you love talking about you?  Aren’t those the best conversations?  The ones that involve you as the main subject…. Couldn’t you just sit around and talk about you all day?

    I also bet I know what your favorite kind of stories are too… stories about YOU!

    Aren’t hearing stories about you the best?

    But you know what I have realized recently? Hearing stories about The Munch is almost as interesting as hearing stories about me!  Probably because she is part me, and so much of her reminds me of me.  But any time someone tells me a story about The Munch, I am totally captivated by even the most inconsequential details.  I love hearing about her, picturing her doing things, and learning about all the funny/annoying/charming things she did.

    Just another perk about parenting… you get to hide your narcissism through your interest in your kid!

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    February 6, 2014 • 3 years old, Mommy Mind, Musings, Parenting • Views: 744

  • How To Get Your Sexy Back After Baby

     

    The birth of a child can turn an active, carefree lady into a tired, worn out woman. Your wardrobe has even changed as you barely have the time to shower, much less primp.  And while your body may be physically ready for sex, you may be unprepared mentally and emotionally because of your new appearance.  Even if you don’t look exactly the way you did before you had your baby, all is not lost. You can regain the self-esteem and get your sexy back after giving birth.

    Being a parent requires all of your time and energy, which can quickly leave you feeling completely exhausted. This feeling of running on empty doesn’t bode well for your attitude, happiness, or sexual well-being. Therefore, it’s essential that you take some time for yourself. Take a step back as often as possible and put yourself first. Even if it’s just taking a 10-minute break, you must carve out some time at least once a week for yourself. Make sure to do something relaxing like taking a walk, doing some yoga, or reading a magazine, because soothing activities like these can help relieve the stress that often wreaks havoc on our bodies. It also helps to release some frustration, making you less likely to be tense and uptight when you’re engaged in sex.

    According to EveryDayFamily, being in touch with your sexuality plays a major part in how you feel about your physical appearance. Therefore, it’s important that you get in tune with your sexual self. Whether this means engaging in those sexy activities with your partner or doing it on your own, you must devote time exploring what turns you on. If you’re feeling way too uncomfortable or lack the confidence to even partake in a little sexual discovery, start off slowly and employ a bit of humor. For instance, skip the usual dinner-and-a-movie date night and play a risqué adult board game with your mate to get things flowing. Adam & Eve notes that these games, which range from strip poker to sex-themed dice, are a great way to get foreplay started. They’re flirty and fun without being overly aggressive about the whole thing, which will allow you to ease more naturally into sex with a post-baby body.

    No matter how you look after pregnancy, it’s crucial that you feel as good about yourself as you did before you had your baby. So take a moment, step back, and examine how you can regain your confidence and feel good about your physical appearance again.

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    January 31, 2014 • Mommy Body, Mommy Mind • Views: 1941

  • With or Without You

    I was never one of those people who knew I wanted to have kids.  Maybe that is because doctors told me in my early 20’s that I would never be able to, so I needed to make peace with that possibility – but there was also this part of me that was never sure.  I didn’t have this unequivocal “I must create a spawn or I will not be a whole person” perspective.

    When I was a teenager of course I didn’t want to get preggers- especially because there was no “16 and Pregnant” on MTV – and subsequent way to get famous from it.  Being a teen mom just wasn’t as glamorous in the 90’s as it is today.

    And then my friend Bitty died when I was 20, and it changed everything. I think that was the catalyst for my uncertainty to procreate.

    The only way I knew how to deal with the mourning was to find some meaning in the loss.  That is not easy to do when someone dies so young.  There is no logic to it.  No rational that can ease the pain.  But I needed something that would paint the dark consequence of death a different shade of black.  I couldn’t let her passing be random.  It had to be significant.

    So I made a promise to Bitty.  That I would love her forever, and never stop keeping her in my heart.  And that she could live whatever life she wanted to through me.  It was like I offered my existence to be a conduit for her to still experience the world.  We could share my body, like we did everything else when she was alive.

    I held onto my love for Bitty with an irrational fervor, because to let go seemed too lonely to bear.  But then all these things would happen, these coincidences, mysteries, moments, where I genuinely felt we were still connected.  Still communicating.  To explain them would be like trying to relay a dream, but they felt so real to me.  I started to believe in the eternal nature of the soul.  That we are all connected by love, and that love is the very fabric of the universe.  The space between that holds everything together.

    I became more interested than ever in the esoteric, spiritual, and metaphysical realms.  And part of me wanted to pursue that path fully- to commit my life to one of deep existential reflection.  To do things like live in an ashram, or go on month long silent retreats, and be free of all earthly attachments.  I just didn’t see how a child fit into that plan.

    But as the universe would have it, I could get pregnant, and did have a child.

    And I was right in many ways.  Having a kid has made it so I will never travel the road I thought I would.  Because how can I leave her behind?

    That is the thing about making a baby.  They they are always on your mind.  There are days where I am counting the minutes for my freedom from the The Munch, but then after the initial thrill of being an individual wears off – I miss her.  As much as I sometimes want to get away, I also can’t wait to get right back to her. There is no escaping how much you care about your child, how much they are a piece of you, how you can never again feel complete without them.  They are always with you, lurking in the depths of your being, like the herpes virus.

    But now The Munch IS my spiritual practice… and I am pretty sure she has taught me more about life than my mind alone every could have.

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    January 29, 2014 • Mommy Mind, Musings, Old School Stories, Parenting • Views: 985

  • Sentimental Moments Make Me Want To Puke and Yet Cry

    I am not a sentimental person. If I were in a scenario where a group hug was involved, I would for sure make an awkward sarcastic comment about hoping everyone enjoys the scent of my armpits. Or if someone were to look into my eyes to serenade me lovingly, I would feel really uncomfortable, and look away periodically while I wished the earth would swallow me. I have a hard time losing myself and not being hyper conscious, so I tend to brush off potentially sappy moments with cynicism – especially since I stopped smoking weed.

    I guess I am the type of person who not only says what type of person I am, but who also is aware enough to know that everything is absurd… including myself. I don’t want to be seen as someone who is saccharin because deep down I know behind every amazing memory, there was also an instance where I thought about how long I had to hold in my fart so as not to offend anyone. No matter how beautiful, or sincere, I am always cognizant that my mind travels to the mundane, or the ludicrous, and that is just the nature of thinking.

    But today I had a moment. A moment that just moved me.

    Granted, I am feeling pretty vulnerable lately. I sprained a ligament in my knee, and have had to take it easy for a bunch of days. Which is surprisingly not easy at all. If I don’t move my body I start to feel depressed. Today I wanted to crawl out of own skin, lay beside my exposed nerves, and flick them with rubber bands. So I decided to do some gentle yoga to get my blood going and feel connected to my body again.

    The Munch was hanging out with me, and I ended up practicing for 2 ½ hours with her. She would play with her babies, come talk to me, ride her bike around, wrestle with me, bump her head, cry in my arms, bounce on her trampoline, fall because her socks are slippery, cry in my arms again, make me watch her “jump” rope (which consists of her stepping over a rope), play with her babies, ride her bike, come talk to me, have to go potty…

    At the end of yoga you do this pose called “shavasana,” which is the corpse pose. Essentially you lay on your back and be one with the cosmos… or whatever. I had my “spotify” going and this song called “Daughter” came on. It was a classic hipster chick song, but the melody was mesmerizing and I couldn’t help but think of my own daughter.

    I appreciate that The Munch and I can co-exist like this. With her living her life, and me living mine, but together. Maybe she interrupts, and wants my attention every so often, but I like spending time with her. Hearing her antics. She still lets me do my thing even if she wants to be acknowledged. I thought about how The Munch has been doing yoga with me since I was pregnant. I remembered going upside down and watching my belly as she would readjust inside of me. And then how when she was a baby, I would do the same shavasana pose with her laying on my tummy – with our hearts pressing against each other.

    Then all of a sudden someone tackled me! Though it surprised me, I stayed in my pose while The Munch snuggled up on my stomach yet again. This time her body taking up more more space than my recollections – her legs dangling down to my knees. She cuddled against me as her arms draped around my ribs to hug me tighter. All I could think was “this kid is fucking rad and I love her so much.”

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    December 10, 2013 • 3 years old, Behavior, Mommy Mind, Musings, Parenting, Playing • Views: 8449