It's Strange. Isn't It?

 Today I hired a sitter for the first time. 

I actually went through with it. I nearly canceled multiple times. I delayed the start time by an hour, and it took me over an hour to leave the house. Nevertheless, here I am. I walked to a cafe. I took a moment.

Still, it is strange. Isn’t it? Leaving your child with a highly recommended, but unknown human.

This feels like a test run. I’m a 20 minute walk (3 minute drive) from home. I do not have any formal plans. I am giving myself permission to tap into all resources available to me. I’m releasing a little control. 

“Miss A” is a kind human. In the time that I lingered, I cared for myself as she watched MJ. I heard and observed their interactions, and I do feel at ease. MJ is safe. He’s in his environment. He is receiving attention and care from a capable, honest, loving adult. 

Still, it is strange. Isn’t it? I call my mom.

I did it! 

She’s there? You didn’t cancel?

She is. I didn't. It’s so weird!

What? Having a stranger in your home watching your baby?

Yes! How was it for you, Mom?

Honestly, I never paid for a sitter. I had Mama, Tamika, Denise, and all of my nieces. Other than paying for daycare to work, I never had to hire a sitter for free time.

These are different times. My eldest niece and nephew aren’t even 10 years old yet. Plus, our family is over 300 miles away. 

I wanted an extended shower with loud music. (No listening for cries or, worse, thuds.) I wanted a solo outdoor walk. I wanted to sit at a coffee shop and enjoy a drink and pastry. I wanted “Kechia time.”

It’s strange. Isn’t it? How identity expansions shift everything?

Everywhere I go, even when I am alone, MJ is with me because everything I do, in some way or another, impacts him. That thought is, all at once terrifying, awe-inspiring, and humbling. As much as I want to access the woman I was pre MJ, I have changed. 

I do not buy into the propaganda that women are incomplete without children. I do think tethering -  be it to a child, spouse/partner, sibling, parent, pet, etcetera - being accountable to and responsible for a being outside of self - shifts perspectives and priorities. 

Sitting at a coffee shop, alone, on a Saturday night was once common for me. Now, it is extraordinarily ordinary. I am grateful for the sitter; the fresh air of an outdoor walk; to be outside of the home where I parent, live, and work; and the vibe of a cafe with good overhead music, service, beverages, and pastries.

Mostly, I’m grateful to get back home to a child who is still happy, safe, and okay. 

"Show Them You've Been Loved. Show Them How I Loved You."

As long as I am a possessor of breath, loving energy for you will emanate into the atmosphere. If my memory fades, my cells will remember. If my tongue ceases, my eyes will speak. My presence testifies to loving and being loved by you. Everything and everyone I touch is a recipient of that loving energy. In this way, our love is neither interrupted nor destroyed. It's an eternal echo transforming in perpetuity, confirming we've been loved. 

Tantrums

October 3, 2024 -

It's one of those nights where bedtime is a personal affront to MJ. Although still rare, these tantrums happen more frequently now. It's new. Sometimes, it is jarring. Every time it is dysregulating. For both of us. 

How much crying do I allow? How much responsiveness is too responsive? When does self-soothing venture into ignoring? Who among us appreciates being ignored? How do I navigate tantrums without ceding parental authority/leadership or jacking up my child's attachment system? 

Most of the time, I follow my instincts: providing comfort; holding the bedtime boundary; worrying about my neighbors' discomfort and side-eyes; trying to remain calm even though, like MJ, I want to cry and be comforted. Sometimes I think, "As long as he gets the recommended amount of sleep, is the when that important?"

In these moments, I'm overwhelmed and clear. My child's behavior gives me insight to an inner world that cannot be articulated in palatable-to-adults ways. Not yet. What I see, sense, feel, think, know? Right now, MJ needs rest. Instead of sleeping, he is crying. 

Right now, I need rest. Instead of sleeping, I'm sitting at my desk working on _____. (Does the what really matter?)

Earlier I made a not-shared-until-now video about needing rest and the emotional/mental impact of that. I also become cranky, emotional, less for human consumption when I'm overly tired. Children aren't inexplicable; they are relatable. Parents aren't immune; we have our versions of tantrums and stage rebellions against rest too.

There's no moral here. I wrote to self-regulate. I shared because I'm prone to inappropriate levels of self-disclosure. 

P.S.: Apparently, I recorded my audio journal without audio. I find that amusing. 4 minutes and 24 seconds of nothing but rest [the word and definitions]. The universe ain't subtle.

October 5, 2024 -

Today I rested. I feel well-rested. I feel better. 

Amor Fati

Everything I want is accessible to me. It is waiting on belief and timing to align, and it will come. The resources. The individuals and communities. The hopes, visions, and efforts. Every good thing will come to me in its due season. I will accept the abundance with gratitude understanding that I am worthy; the Universe, Fate, God are my loving friends; and nothing that is human - including goodness, wholeness, joys & successes - is alien to me. Selah. Amen. Let it be so.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

I am thinking of Amor Fati today.

("Amor fati is a Latin phrase that means 'love of one's fate.' It's a philosophy that involves accepting and loving all experiences in life, including both good and bad, as necessary for growth.")

Love For Your Life

I'm so thankful for the sweet human who taught me "There is a love of your life and a love for your life." Being with the love of my life was like living with the sun. I imagine the love for my life to be like water. 

Water's utility, necessity, and goodness are undeniable; so too is its strength. Water can exist in all three states of matter. (There's a quiet alchemic magic in that.) It can be refreshing like the feel and smell of rain, a good cry, or a shower after an especially long day. Water is precious without all the fanfare.

With the abundance of overly sweetened, artificial options, it can be easy to forget what is most needed to properly function, grow, and achieve optimal health. Necessary even at the cellular level with an ability to hold space in beautiful, awe-inspiring ways, there are moments when water quenches like nothing else. 

Distance from the sun is essential; living with water is a requirement.

Temporary Homebody

We live in a "heightened threat environment," they say. My nervous system has been activated since I was a little girl, perceiving threats and feeling threatened. Anyone who has witnessed or experienced violence, particularly at home, knows how it feels to see land mines everywhere. One wrong response, even the perception of defiance or disrespect, could trigger chaos. It was safer to be "out there," anywhere else. 

Some dwellings are heightened threat environments. It's difficult to focus on external chaos when the home and being is chaotic. Then, it all feels the same or similar. Feeling unsafe is the norm. Being unsafe is the norm.

I often assign my new desire to be home on being a parent. "Outings require so much effort," I say. Truthfully, the [varying in severity] inconvenience, annoyance, and difficulty of toddlerhood is a ready-made excuse.

I feel the heightened threat environment of the world. It whirs with the car speeding by as I clutch my 1 year old hands tighter. It's in the drunken voices of neighbors. It is on TV, phone, and computer screens. It's in the comments and newspapers. Violence visits freeways, churches, malls, schools, movie theaters, grocery stores, concerts, political rallies, golf courses, small and large communities all over the globe. 

If you feel it; if it clings to your hair and clothes like cigarette smoke; if it makes your stomach turn like overpowering perfume in an elevator, you are too sensitive. You consume too much news. You are simply not trying hard enough to be optimistic. You're too fearful. You're too dramatic. You are the rain drenching parades.

What is the appropriate response to living in the heightened threat environment of humanity? Denial? Defiance? I don't know. I only know I prefer the constructive chaos of my 1-year-old to the destructive chaos of the world in the safety of our home. 

- 09/17/2024

Hand ​in ​Hand

Parenthood can feel like a cycle of exhaustion and judgment. Caretaking and child rearing are rewarding. Rewarding is not synonymous for energizing.

I've been a parent for less than two years. There is endless acclimation and reacclimation. As the child goes through stages, so do careers, friendships, relationships, families, finances, and parents. 

There is much consensus about children changing everything. There is much judgment - from within and without - about how those changes take shape. About how long it takes to settle and resettle into normalcy in each stage. 

Life, like diapers and play areas, can be messy. It can be shitty, and, shit stinks. The literal and figurative smell doesn't linger forever, but it can take over in moments.

I seek a permission structure. I want to gift myself permission to figure all of this out. To learn my child at and on his level. To become the mother and woman I wish to be. I neither plan nor expect to parent and human without error or odor. 

I do plan to give myself patience and grace. I plan to let MJ be an individual and a child. He is so worthy of patience, grace, and insulation from labeling. I am a parent. I signed up to caretake, protect, and absorb. In a way, I signed up for exhaustion.

Exhaustion is inevitable. Judgment is unavoidable. Shit happens. We're in a leap, not a free fall.