Monday, October 01, 2007

Monday, October 01, 2007

Hummingbirds and Trampolines Current mood: mellow Today may have been the first morning I have woken up and felt rested for a good, long while. Weeks, maybe months. Sleep has been eluding me. I have been waking up soooo sleepy since I am not going to sleep before 1 am. And WOW! do I absolutely not want to wake up and start tending to the needs of others. My insomnia is apparent all day long. From my short fuse to my lack of compassion and empathy. When S or T come crying to me due to some hurt, it takes more muster to connect with their hurt and kiss it away. I could choose to parent in a different way. I could react with a "where's the blood" mentality. That was my uncles' most often reaction to the inevitable hurts and pains of being a kid. And then, I could walk away from my crying child (or any crying child for that matter) and let him or her figure it out on their own. That would be the choice requiring the least amount of energy from me. But that to me is not soul economy. It is creating a void. Losing out on a moment of love. I want my children to know it's okay to cry and feel pain. So I visualise a well inside of me and send the bucket down to depths unkown. Hoping and praying that it will come back with a spark or better yet, a chunk of light. Those times that it comes up empty are not my most stellar parenting moments. Yells, shrieks, shouts, tears, screams, fee stomping, throwing something, trying to walk away (this is the place where you are supposed to walk away, but when my children see me in such a state they instantly become barnacles. What is my mama doing?? It's kind of scary, but at the same time we can't look away. We most certainly will not let her leave.) I am not a moper and once this bit of fire has been let out in this ridiculous fashion, I usually feel better. I am then able to reset my sights and continue striving. S, T and myself have been enjoying a new morning activity. After breakfast we go outside and play on our trampoline. I sit in the middle while they run circles around me. They want me to try to get them. I reach out towards them over and over as they run, hop and jump out of my reach laughing and falling down. When I do catch them I am supposed to cover them in kisses and rasberries. Today under a grey sky with a smattering of sprinkle, Sylvan ran circles around me still dressed in his jammies. His favorite jammie shirt has a picture of a river surrounded by trees under a crescent moon. He loves to wear it to bed as it is a picture of night time to him. On the back the words: ...Child of countless trees ...Child of boundless seas I hear the song in my head as Sylvan stops and starts to go the other way, even faster than before, saying he needs to unwind. I lie on my back looking up through the loquat tree. Dizziness, the greyness and the weight of love holding me down. I see a hummingbird sitting on a branch above us. I wonder how many tiny hummingbird nests have been built in the trees in and surrounding our yard. I am reminded of the time a friend asked me to accompany her to the house of her youth, which had been abandoned for some time. Her old house sat secluded amongst the golden, dry grasses growing on the hills outside of Salem, Oregon. We slept on the floor in this old house full of her memories. Old stuff, long forgotten piled everywhere. Glass crushed under our feet from a few broken windows. I awoke in the morning to the sound of something small pounding itself against a window. It was a soft, yet urgent sound. I stood up and saw a tiny hummingbird inside the old house. It was frantically trying to get out by knocking itself against the glass. I silently walked over and cupped my hands around the trembling bird. Incredibly tiny, I felt its warmth and beating heart. I walked to a window that had a piece missing and lifted my hands in front of the hole. It did not move. I put my hand through the hole and gently moved it upwards. In a blink, the hummingbird took flight with such force my hand, ever so slightly, kicked back. This hummingbird carried a message to me: "Be on the lookout for the most joyful challenge coming your way." I thought it would be teaching. I was starting the second year of the Waldorf teacher training. I had intentions of returning to Missoula and working towards establishing a Waldorf School. Instead, I became a mother. If you know me well you have more than likely heard me refer to my children as my most "joyful challenge". That they are. I anticipate they will continue to be for the rest of my years. As for the hummingbirds, I invite them into our yard. I have a feeder in the front and in the back. We are visited each and every day by these sweet and magical birds.