Monday, June 18, 2007

push | pull

I always assumed that for Bu & me to connect better or find common ground with EmsyHippo, he'd have to relax and enjoy her more. The funny ironic thing? Now, I'm having a slightly harder time with her (the shrieking, back arching mini-tantrums, the refusal to sleep, the absolute need for instant gratification) than I have before. Somehow, feeling my patience tested by the time honored rite of initiation that is Parenting A Toddler actually makes me feel better empathy for Bu. We've started sharing those knowing, worn out looks over the head of the Tiny Banshee, and the migraine inducing chaos of the baby is absolutely worth that instant of connection with my husband. The little moments of amazing, blessed quiet when she's finally down for the night are just like I imagined they'd be- feeling like we did it, we made it through another day's little trials- together.

I'm finding so helpful the advice that Lexi's mom gave her that was passed to me via comments on a frantic cry for mama support . It was about the constant flux that a marriage is, that you fall in and out of love, you grow apart & together and the union constantly stretches & loosens & tightens & continually reknits itself.

It's such an eternal challenge, to entwine two wholes, keep them both whole and distinct and yet create a new whole that's um, whole. Throw a third whole little creature with her own (very, very strong) will into the mix and the weave of it all is so intricate and confusing. A beautiful tangle.

I think I need to meditate on Eris, the Goddess of Chaos. Strangely, she was the one entity/story/metaphor that helped me the most through losing mom. The fact that completely irrational, devastating things happen for no fucking reason at all and the illusion of control is a complete farce was more comforting to me than all my belief in an eternal spirit or divine plan. I used to have a wild and delicious relationship with chaos and the free, colorful energy I perceive through her, sort of like Delirium.

I let my grief turn me into this tight, brittle person who tries to hold sand and water in her hands without losing any. Ridiculous. I need to get on board with the fact that life/the 'Verse/life with a toddler and husband is not a controllable thing. It's a force of living, fluid energy to ride.

Edit: fixed a grammar thingy, and o yeh: Del artwork's not mine; yanked from:

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