"You have got to own your days and name them, each one of them, or else the years go right by and none of them belong to you."
A Thousand Clowns by Herb Gardner
I'm thinking of the days in my life that have their own name. I'm believing in the days that slipped by, unnamed, that those days were carried on the strength of the named days.
I'm rejoicing in the belief that I've been included in some of the named days of my dears.
I'm grateful for the named days that are in my future.
I resolve to welcome each day with a name, open my eyes to its individuality, and continue in my practice to close each of my days with gratitude.
Today's name is love. family. joy.
welcome
Friday, December 24, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Thanksgiving Magic
I've wanted to post about Thanksgiving 2010, but I was hesitant. It was so wonderful, I was afraid I would lose some of its magic if I tried to describe it. I will only post samplings and pictures, my heart holds the rest.
A fraction of Larsons driving from South Jordan to Lemoore.
Wednesday night cooking with Anne and Hallee. Brendon too.
Late night arrival. Joy.
Frying bacon and sausage for breakfast.
House continues to fill with people, food, and cheer.
A helpful Presley sets both dinner tables. Carson oversees.
A rainbow sets itself on Cathy.
Birds of good energy from Jade.
I couldn't be happier.
A fraction of Larsons driving from South Jordan to Lemoore.
Wednesday night cooking with Anne and Hallee. Brendon too.
Late night arrival. Joy.
Frying bacon and sausage for breakfast.
House continues to fill with people, food, and cheer.
A helpful Presley sets both dinner tables. Carson oversees.
A rainbow sets itself on Cathy.
Birds of good energy from Jade.
I couldn't be happier.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Secrets, Quirks, Compulsions
I've been spending time mentally listing all the private weirdnesses I enjoy.
I like Hostess Snowballs. I don't eat them often, but I lust for them often. When I meet someone else who admits they too have an occasional hankerin' for a snowball, there is a universal spark of kindredship. People are hesitant to publicly admit they like snowballs.
I check the flatness of my stomach compulsively. NOT that I HAVE a flat stomach. I guess, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I believe that there is a possibility that during the night, while in a deep sleep, the "Flat Stomach Fairy" will wave her stomach-flattening wand over me, and I'll wake up with a washboard midriff. So far, she hasn't found me.
I don't watch the Kardashians (often), but I'm curious about them. Since I can say that Khloe is my favorite Kardashian, I know they have a clothing boutique called Dash, I know Kourtney's baby is named Mason, and, in my opinion, Bruce's revamped facelift looks much better, I suppose I know too much about them.
I also watch Family Guy. AND, I laugh! I know, it's the lowest form of humor on TV. It isn't uncommon for me to groan during a show, but still, I think it's pretty funny. Really, a baby with a snobby British accent, who feels superior to his entire family, and the most stable, intelligent family member is the dog, Brian? Good stuff. At least I don't watch any of the Real Housewives. Now THAT would be sick.
I honk at squirrels. Not to warn them I'm coming so they'll run out of the way (even though, I do that if they're in the road). No, I honk to startle them on the side of the road. Sadly, my new car, or, I should say, my most recent car doesn't have a good squirrel startling horn. The best horn is on a smaller car, quick and beepy. I used to be quite obsessed by it. I couldn't drive Hwy. 41 without numerous honks. Sometimes, I'd make predictions according to how many squirrels I could scare. I'd pick a random number, let's say 5. Then I'd think of something I hoped would be waiting for me at home..... a cleaned kitchen, no pressing bills in the mail, Anthony having a feeling good day... then I'd begin my challenge. If I could startle 5 squirrels before reaching Hwy. 198, then my choice of prediction would occur. The next car I buy, I'm doing a squirrel test drive.
My latest secret alone snack is pretzel rods dipped in canned frosting. Try it. It's quite yummy. (refer back to my morning ritual of checking for a flat stomach - obviously, for no good reason).
I cuss a LOT at other drivers on the road, but I never let them know I'm verbally abusing them in the sanctuary of my own vehicle. I don't flash dirty looks. I don't flip anyone off, but I can blast off a stream of foul words, directed at them and sometimes directed toward their relatives too.
I can't drink cold beverages out of a mug. Can't.
I don't drink sodas very often, but when I do, I drink them at room temperature. No ice. They're bubblier.
I like the feeling of having my eyebrows waxed.
Since I can't think of any more weirdnesses, I'm feeling that I'm a boring person. I'm going to have to give this more thought.
I like Hostess Snowballs. I don't eat them often, but I lust for them often. When I meet someone else who admits they too have an occasional hankerin' for a snowball, there is a universal spark of kindredship. People are hesitant to publicly admit they like snowballs.
I check the flatness of my stomach compulsively. NOT that I HAVE a flat stomach. I guess, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I believe that there is a possibility that during the night, while in a deep sleep, the "Flat Stomach Fairy" will wave her stomach-flattening wand over me, and I'll wake up with a washboard midriff. So far, she hasn't found me.
I don't watch the Kardashians (often), but I'm curious about them. Since I can say that Khloe is my favorite Kardashian, I know they have a clothing boutique called Dash, I know Kourtney's baby is named Mason, and, in my opinion, Bruce's revamped facelift looks much better, I suppose I know too much about them.
I also watch Family Guy. AND, I laugh! I know, it's the lowest form of humor on TV. It isn't uncommon for me to groan during a show, but still, I think it's pretty funny. Really, a baby with a snobby British accent, who feels superior to his entire family, and the most stable, intelligent family member is the dog, Brian? Good stuff. At least I don't watch any of the Real Housewives. Now THAT would be sick.
I honk at squirrels. Not to warn them I'm coming so they'll run out of the way (even though, I do that if they're in the road). No, I honk to startle them on the side of the road. Sadly, my new car, or, I should say, my most recent car doesn't have a good squirrel startling horn. The best horn is on a smaller car, quick and beepy. I used to be quite obsessed by it. I couldn't drive Hwy. 41 without numerous honks. Sometimes, I'd make predictions according to how many squirrels I could scare. I'd pick a random number, let's say 5. Then I'd think of something I hoped would be waiting for me at home..... a cleaned kitchen, no pressing bills in the mail, Anthony having a feeling good day... then I'd begin my challenge. If I could startle 5 squirrels before reaching Hwy. 198, then my choice of prediction would occur. The next car I buy, I'm doing a squirrel test drive.
My latest secret alone snack is pretzel rods dipped in canned frosting. Try it. It's quite yummy. (refer back to my morning ritual of checking for a flat stomach - obviously, for no good reason).
I cuss a LOT at other drivers on the road, but I never let them know I'm verbally abusing them in the sanctuary of my own vehicle. I don't flash dirty looks. I don't flip anyone off, but I can blast off a stream of foul words, directed at them and sometimes directed toward their relatives too.
I can't drink cold beverages out of a mug. Can't.
I don't drink sodas very often, but when I do, I drink them at room temperature. No ice. They're bubblier.
I like the feeling of having my eyebrows waxed.
Since I can't think of any more weirdnesses, I'm feeling that I'm a boring person. I'm going to have to give this more thought.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
What's Growing On?
Pistachio trees - aren't these nuts pretty, in their early growing stage? They grow in bunches, like grapes.
Tractor tire patterns - I like these tracks.
Pomegranates - More and more pomegranate orchards are popping up around the county. They're pretty trees.
September 10, 2010 - Cotton flowers blooming
October 21, 2010 - Crop dusters have sprayed a defoliant on the field, so leaves dry up and drop off, leaving the cotton bolls exposed for easy picking.
Cotton has been picked from these fields. I wish I'd been able to get pictures of the cotton picker machines in action. They're massive!
These are cotton modules. These can be seen along side of every cotton field after picking. From here, the module is picked up by a module loader(I'm sort of guessing on that name) and taken to the cotton gin. At the gin, the seeds will be removed from the cotton and the raw cotton will be packed into 500 lb bales.
Cotton is white. Snow is white. I'm more comfortable around cotton.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Steve Perry & 43,000 Friends NEVER 'Stop Believing' in the GIANTS - NLCS...
I think this is such a great video, taken at the Giants' play-off game. Steve Perry, of Journey, is a Lemoore homegrown boy. Journey got it's start in the bay area, so believing that he is a die hard Giants' fan isn't much of a stretch. I love this.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Would you like to sing my song?
I was in the mood for some Janis Ian music. In college I had three or four of her albums. She sang songs that whispered the torments and confusion of young love and relationships. In listening to some of her music tonight, I felt sad to realize that her songs rang true to a corner of my being in those days.
"At Seventeen" -- I privately related to this song. I think some would be surprised to learn I connected with the soft lament of the unpopular high school girl in the song. I could see it through her eyes, and feel some of her hurts from being overlooked.
"In the Winter" --- Feelings of loneliness, love lost. Being on the outside, alone, dramatic reactions to a failed relationship.
"Love Is Blind" --- Okay, now I'm realizing I was obsessed. Geez, get over him already!!
http://www.janisian.com/albums/aftertones.php
Check out the URL above, so you can listen to some of the next songs.
"This Must Be Wrong" and "Boy I Really Tied One On" --- Um, thank goodness, I'm coming out of my heartache dreariness.
There are so many of her songs I really loved, and I'm revisiting them. I hope Janis found a happy life and love. Now, I'm able to listen to her songs for their beautiful melodies and the soft, gentle voice of a fragile woman. Through some of her songs I look back at a time in my life that included youthful drama, silly choices, and high voltage reactions. Truthfully, that was just a sprinkling over a lot of fun, good friends, new experiences, and a girl finding her way into adulthood.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
They're back!
Today marks the official return of my prism rainbows. I'm documenting. I was walking by their room, rushing to get ready to leave for an English Learner Literacy conference, when I caught sight of them. I gasped and stopped in my tracks! They were not here yesterday, but this morning bright, brilliant, mini-meteors of color were splashed upon the west wall.
The Earth is tilting, approaching its outer oval orbit around the sun. These beauties will visit me every sunny morning until spring. They are welcomed visitors.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday evening
We were working in the yard as this sky was being painted. We stopped our work to walk into the street to appreciate the beauty. I went into the house to get my camera, and heard my phone chime that a text had arrived. It was a text from Jake:
Go take a pic of the sky
I smiled.
An aged soul is beautiful
I've made a decision about aging. My new attitude is this:
My outside is evolving to catch up with and match the centuries of wisdom that my soul has gathered.
So, as my body softens, it is just creating a more comfortable earth domain for my soul. My soul is speaking through the lines in my face. My body is simply the book jacket.
My outside is evolving to catch up with and match the centuries of wisdom that my soul has gathered.
So, as my body softens, it is just creating a more comfortable earth domain for my soul. My soul is speaking through the lines in my face. My body is simply the book jacket.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Awaiting the rainbows
One more month until we turn the clocks back an hour. It's always sad to say goodbye to the summer evenings and late sunsets. But, I think I'm reading to "fall back" an hour, and welcome back my rainbow faeries. The prism hanging in my tiled living room displays the most wondrous splashes of rainbows all over the wall, when the sun is shining. The positive, uplifting energy these rainbows initiate in my heart and home is warmly welcomed and appreciated. I'm getting so excited for their return. It is a rainbow sundial in my home. They are at their brilliance at 7:10 in the morning, reflecting against the west wall. In the afternoon, about 4:00, they are dancing on the east wall. Quite delightful.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Your Life Canvas
When Cathy posted her photo of the beautiful sunrise she caught this week, it made me think of an idea I created a couple of years ago: painting your life's canvas.
I was sitting in the church. A funeral for a friend who lost her long, 15 year battle with cancer. The church was packed with people. It was a tough funeral to attend. While listening to the pastor, I looked around the room and thought, "Karen left a swipe of color on every life in here, and her color will never be duplicated on anyone's canvas."
And that's how the idea started. I imagine a living canvas. Everyone who touches our life has their own color, their personal hue that is left on our canvas. Some people are a part of our life and leave large sweeping strokes of color. Others wash over our canvas boldly. There are friends who splash, splatter, and swish. There are people we meet on our life path that may leave only one streak of their color, but even one streak adds to the overall picture. Our canvas continues to grow, making room for as many colors as we're lucky enough to encounter.
I want to paint my life. In my mind's eye, I can see how the painting would look. I can think of a person, and a color will swirl and form in my head. The way I'd add it to my painting would be as individualized as each person who is a part, or has been a part, of my life. Some people, I'd use a feather to brush fleeting strokes of color. Some would be a watery, translucent color, almost undetectable to another viewer, but to me, I'd know what it represented on my life masterpiece. Of course, there would be colors that stood out above all others, large, bold, comforting, rich in depth.
I feel blessed that my canvas is large and growing. I know the colors of my people. My painting is a watercolor of beautiful, rich hues. There are some small brush marks that I would not want to have missing from the large backdrop. There are some powerfully strong swipes from a large brush of love, guidance, and happy times. My canvas grows. A part of it might look like this..........
I was sitting in the church. A funeral for a friend who lost her long, 15 year battle with cancer. The church was packed with people. It was a tough funeral to attend. While listening to the pastor, I looked around the room and thought, "Karen left a swipe of color on every life in here, and her color will never be duplicated on anyone's canvas."
And that's how the idea started. I imagine a living canvas. Everyone who touches our life has their own color, their personal hue that is left on our canvas. Some people are a part of our life and leave large sweeping strokes of color. Others wash over our canvas boldly. There are friends who splash, splatter, and swish. There are people we meet on our life path that may leave only one streak of their color, but even one streak adds to the overall picture. Our canvas continues to grow, making room for as many colors as we're lucky enough to encounter.
I want to paint my life. In my mind's eye, I can see how the painting would look. I can think of a person, and a color will swirl and form in my head. The way I'd add it to my painting would be as individualized as each person who is a part, or has been a part, of my life. Some people, I'd use a feather to brush fleeting strokes of color. Some would be a watery, translucent color, almost undetectable to another viewer, but to me, I'd know what it represented on my life masterpiece. Of course, there would be colors that stood out above all others, large, bold, comforting, rich in depth.
I feel blessed that my canvas is large and growing. I know the colors of my people. My painting is a watercolor of beautiful, rich hues. There are some small brush marks that I would not want to have missing from the large backdrop. There are some powerfully strong swipes from a large brush of love, guidance, and happy times. My canvas grows. A part of it might look like this..........
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Willie Nelson - I Never Cared For You
The sun is filled with ice and gives no warmth at all
The skies, were never blue.
The stars are raindrops looking for a place to fall,
And, I never cared for you.
Tuesday night, September 14, 2010. Hanford Fox Theater. Willie again. He didn't feel 100%. I know Willie. He gave. He smiled. He played with as much passion as he could stir. But, I know he needs a break. He needs a rest, but he doesn't want to stop long enough to let his 77 years find him.
I started my one-sided love affair with Willie in 1976 with the purchase of the
Red-Headed Stranger LP (his music was recommended to me by my cousin, Geoff). His music and the tones of his voice spiraled right into my soul, and my love sprouted.
Over the years, in learning about and listening to Willie, I believe we are kindred spirits of Mexican past lives. It leaks out in some of his music. He did a movie called Barbarosa that very much embraced Mexican culture. This culture speaks to my soul in the same way Willie's voice does. My draw to both feels instinctual to me.
My Willie timeline:
1978 - first Willie concert in Lake Tahoe. I was sure he was singing "If You Could Touch Her At All" directly to me. Really. I believe.
1979 - Santa Cruz Fairgrounds. Willie Nelson and Maria Muldaur. I went with Daryl. I wore heart-shaped sunglasses so Willie would know I loved him. Daryl was a little embarrassed, I think. This is a picture Daryl took at that concert, enlarged it to an 8x10 and gave to me for my birthday that year. I treasured this picture.
1980 - Santa Cruz Fairgrounds again! Again, Daryl and I attended. Jane Fonda introduced Willie that year. Saw Willie on Sunday afternoon and drove home after the concert. The next evening, he was in Paso Robles at the Midstate Fair. I don't remember why my friend, Cheryl, had an extra ticket, but I was beyond thrilled to be seeing Willie two nights in a row!!! At this concert, Cheryl and I worked our way to the front row and we were able to shake his hand. The screams heard around the world.
1981 - Harrahs Reno. That was a fun trip! Reno for Willie, next day Tahoe. I met some really fun guys in Tahoe and ran all over town with them. (guardian angels were definitely working overtime with me). We were in some club/bar and Stephen Stills was there, so he got up and sang onstage. It was surreal.
(1981 was my first time seeing Waylon Jennings, but not with Willie.)
1982 - Anthony, then my boyfriend, was in Los Angeles at the bartenders' convention. He was sitting in the Hollywood Sheraton one night, and Willie Nelson came in with some of his band. Anthony offered to buy him a drink. Willie ordered a margarita. They chatted. Anthony told him that he had a girlfriend who was a big fan, and that she would leave him for Willie. Anthony also told him that I would leave him if he didn't get an autograph for me from Willie.
Then I went through a Willie drought. As much as I love him, I don't want to see him perform in big, crowded venues. I just couldn't stand it.
Fast forward to 1994. Tulare Fairgrounds. I went with my friend, Pini. We hung around the busses. We tried to get onto one of the busses. No luck. They were letting some radio call-in winners board the bus to meet Willie. Didn't they know who I was!?!?
1998 - Visalia Conference Center. Anthony and I went to his concert with Mr. and Mrs. Villa. Mrs. Villa was my mentor as a teacher. Mr. Villa, the first principal I worked for. They were already retired. We had a really good time at this concert. Old crowd. Anthony and I cracked up when the lady in front of us walked in, wearing a mink stole! I guess to her, a Willie Nelson concert is a very special occasion!
2005 - Pozo, California. Google it. Crazy little saloon, outdoor venue down the backroads of Santa Margarita. Bryan and Theanna Hightower took me to this Willie concert. I've known Bryan since he was about 9 years old. His mom is a friend of mine. He called me and said, "I'm in line to get tickets for Willie Nelson, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather see him with than you!" This was only 5 months after Anthony passed away. We went to the concert in a hummer limo, with a bunch of 20somethings. That was a Sunday.
2005 - On Wednesday of the same week, I already had tickets to see Willie at the Hanford Fox Theater. Pini and Yvonne went with me. The acoustics in the Fox Theater make it a fantastic place to see any musician.
2006 - Willie at the Tachi Palace. I wasn't going to go to this concert out of protest. Willie was the opening act!! That is insulting!!! He was opening for John Fogherty. Are you kidding me??? When my friend, Louie, got great front section, tribal area tickets, I couldn't say no. As we arrived, Willie was already playing (ugh, don't get me started on the Palace's entrance organization!!)... we were about 6 rows back from the stage. I waved to Willie as we found our seats, and he waved to me. At the end of the concert, I ran to the stage to tell him I love him, and he threw his bandana to me. I went back to my seat, bandana in hand, and sniffed it. Louie was disgusted.
2010 - Myles was a great date. We had a grand time. I hope to see Willie again.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Willie Nelson - My Own Peculiar Way
I'll be with my man, Willie, one week from tonight. Third row, center. Blowing him kisses, waving, and going into my Willie trance.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Love Me Like Rock
I've been neglecting my crystals. I should know better, because they've proven many times, to heal me, boost me, and spiritually re-energize me when I need help. Last night, as I got ready to retreat to my bed, I looked at my variety of crystals to select which I needed to be in the bed with me. Yes, I sleep with my rocks. I hold them in prayerful meditation as I fall asleep. I decided to take my snowflake obsidian with me last night. I'd forgotten it's energy qualities, so after my decision, I went to my Crystal Bible (yes I have a crystal bible... don't judge me) to remind myself of how it could help.
*******************
Snowflake obsidian can provide balance during times of change. It aids in seeing patterns in life and recreating them in a more beneficial way. It is a stone of serenity and purity, and can shield against negativity. It is associated with the root chakra and is beneficial for the veins, skeleton, and smooth skin. Snowflake obsidian gives protection from physical and emotional harm.
*********************
Good choice.
*******************
Snowflake obsidian can provide balance during times of change. It aids in seeing patterns in life and recreating them in a more beneficial way. It is a stone of serenity and purity, and can shield against negativity. It is associated with the root chakra and is beneficial for the veins, skeleton, and smooth skin. Snowflake obsidian gives protection from physical and emotional harm.
*********************
Good choice.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Help Me Make It Through The Night
Rita is such a beauty. And Kris is so, ahhhhhh. I came across this accidentally, and it hypnotized me. Love Kristofferson songs. I'm off in search of others.
Monday, August 23, 2010
You're Never Too Old.....
...
to get so frustrated, you cry.... in the principal's office.
to want your mom
and your dad.
to stomp away saying, "I don't want to play anymore"
to dream of what you'll be when you grow up.
to wonder IF you'll grow up.
to start crying all over again.
to get so frustrated, you cry.... in the principal's office.
to want your mom
and your dad.
to stomp away saying, "I don't want to play anymore"
to dream of what you'll be when you grow up.
to wonder IF you'll grow up.
to start crying all over again.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Back To School
This year, I'm teaching 3rd and 4th graders. Even though it is a BIG challenge, I am SO excited to have 7 returning students with me. When I volunteered to take the combination class (this year ONLY), one of my requests was that I be allowed to select who stays with me for another year.
Some people who teach combo classes think they should have the high level students, the students who are able to learn quickly and work independently. That would certainly make life easier on the teacher faced with the responsibility of two curriculums.
I don't feel that way. I'd rather keep the students who were just on the brink of really coming on, but struggled throughout most of the school year. Give them a little more time, teach to their pace. Allow them to be the "experts" of the class, since they already have a year under their belts with me.
I have 7 students from last year's 3rd grade class. They are now my 4th graders. We had a reunion today. I told them that they are my chosen 7. We know what to expect from each other. I know their issues, and they know mine. They know what buttons to stay away from - or - to push, if they're really out to get me.
I did not select the easiest to teach. But, just between you and me? They are the ones who are the most fun to teach! I'm quite crazy about these kids.
Some people who teach combo classes think they should have the high level students, the students who are able to learn quickly and work independently. That would certainly make life easier on the teacher faced with the responsibility of two curriculums.
I don't feel that way. I'd rather keep the students who were just on the brink of really coming on, but struggled throughout most of the school year. Give them a little more time, teach to their pace. Allow them to be the "experts" of the class, since they already have a year under their belts with me.
I have 7 students from last year's 3rd grade class. They are now my 4th graders. We had a reunion today. I told them that they are my chosen 7. We know what to expect from each other. I know their issues, and they know mine. They know what buttons to stay away from - or - to push, if they're really out to get me.
I did not select the easiest to teach. But, just between you and me? They are the ones who are the most fun to teach! I'm quite crazy about these kids.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Midwife Series
And this completes my behind the scenes report, "The Secret Life of Midwives". If you are just tuning in, below are four posts describing, from my perspective, what happens during a homebirth. I attended two homebirths with Cathy, and remained behind with her family while she attended two other births. From this experience, I became an instant expert. You can believe me.
I would feel better knowing that you scrolled down and started reading "The Secret Life of Midwives" and proceeded up to this post. I do possess some linear attributes. In that order, you will be reading in proper sequence.
I would feel better knowing that you scrolled down and started reading "The Secret Life of Midwives" and proceeded up to this post. I do possess some linear attributes. In that order, you will be reading in proper sequence.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Secret Life of Midwives - Their Family
A phone call brings news that a baby is ready to make his/her appearance. Cathy listens, asks questions, and makes a quick assessment to determine how soon she needs to get to the birth home. Sometimes the call comes during the middle of the night, during the quiet hours of deep sleep for the regular population. Cathy may try to get some more sleep, so she's well rested for the birth, but once the call comes, her mind begins to race. Sometimes the call comes mid-morning, possibly during a time when Cathy is getting ready to share time with someone in her own family. The call could find her in the middle of a family party, a quiet moment with one of her own grandchildren, or a rare moment of peaceful alone time being shared between her forever husband and herself.
It doesn't matter what is happening in Cathy's personal family life. When the call comes and it's time for her services, she throws on her Midwife Super Hero cape, calls "Li'l Red" into action (hopefully, already full of gas), packs her miracle equipment, and darts off into the horizon, leaving behind her loves, who watch her sail away to unknown places, with no return time determined.
While she is away, her loved ones adjust, but sometimes big sighs slip from their hearts. They understand and they have great pride in what their mother, wife, sister, and/or daughter does for other families. But, sometimes the disappointment about plans that need rearranging, overcomes them. Plans can continue, but there is a missing element, a sense of imbalance, because Cathy is missing.
I mentioned in an earlier post, that birthing time does not elapse parallel to regular time. Back at home, Cathy's family is feeling each minute, each hour. Dinner is eaten. Conversations exchanged. Dishes done, TV time or some Wii games enjoyed, but as her family starts to slow down and tire out, one by one, everyone goes to sleep with a wonder of when she'll be home. I experienced this on one of the nights she was at a birth. I woke during the night, realizing I hadn't heard her return. I was equally concerned for the mother she was tending to AND Cathy. I got up from my bed and peaked down the hall at Cathy's bedroom. Oh good. Her bedroom door was closed, that meant she'd come in during the night and she was getting some well earned sleep. I was able to return to bed, and a sigh slipped from my heart.
I am the chameleon reporter. I know what it is like for Cathy when she is at a birth, and I know what it is like to be waiting. At the first birth, I took my inexperienced time expectations with me. My cup was not empty. I watched the clock and estimated what time we should be getting home. Cathy serves at a birth with her clock cup empty. She is there until all matters are complete. Her time is on it's own speed. Sometimes she checks in with her own people and gives a report. Even though they know the routine, they know Cathy can't rush anything, a piece of them looks at their own clock and creates a private estimation of her return. I will admit my guilt to doing this.
Cathy loves her job. She loves families, babies, and birth. It pumps her. She loves her family. She loves the gathering of her tribe around her table, in her kitchen, exchanges, laughs, little ones, music, food. When called to leave one to attend another, she may feel a twinge of sadness.... but it is fleeting. She's off to join in another growing tribe. And her own tribe loves her. Understands. Waits. Patience is tested. Pride. Her family shares her with other families. Finally, the garage door is heard opening. Majestic takes her position as first greeter. A happy, sometimes weary Cathy walks through the door, and she's home. There are two separate families who have needed her and shared her that day. And Cathy's life is full in the giving of herself to both.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I think Donovan should have written a song about midwives. Cathy, this is for you, sing it to the tune of "Isle of Islay"
Off drives the midwife
In her car.
Away to a family
far, oh, far.
When will she come back
to us?
When will we see her
again?
There is a mother
needs her skill.
A baby arriving
at his will.
Holding the space
is her call.
Time standing still
through it all.
It doesn't matter what is happening in Cathy's personal family life. When the call comes and it's time for her services, she throws on her Midwife Super Hero cape, calls "Li'l Red" into action (hopefully, already full of gas), packs her miracle equipment, and darts off into the horizon, leaving behind her loves, who watch her sail away to unknown places, with no return time determined.
While she is away, her loved ones adjust, but sometimes big sighs slip from their hearts. They understand and they have great pride in what their mother, wife, sister, and/or daughter does for other families. But, sometimes the disappointment about plans that need rearranging, overcomes them. Plans can continue, but there is a missing element, a sense of imbalance, because Cathy is missing.
I mentioned in an earlier post, that birthing time does not elapse parallel to regular time. Back at home, Cathy's family is feeling each minute, each hour. Dinner is eaten. Conversations exchanged. Dishes done, TV time or some Wii games enjoyed, but as her family starts to slow down and tire out, one by one, everyone goes to sleep with a wonder of when she'll be home. I experienced this on one of the nights she was at a birth. I woke during the night, realizing I hadn't heard her return. I was equally concerned for the mother she was tending to AND Cathy. I got up from my bed and peaked down the hall at Cathy's bedroom. Oh good. Her bedroom door was closed, that meant she'd come in during the night and she was getting some well earned sleep. I was able to return to bed, and a sigh slipped from my heart.
I am the chameleon reporter. I know what it is like for Cathy when she is at a birth, and I know what it is like to be waiting. At the first birth, I took my inexperienced time expectations with me. My cup was not empty. I watched the clock and estimated what time we should be getting home. Cathy serves at a birth with her clock cup empty. She is there until all matters are complete. Her time is on it's own speed. Sometimes she checks in with her own people and gives a report. Even though they know the routine, they know Cathy can't rush anything, a piece of them looks at their own clock and creates a private estimation of her return. I will admit my guilt to doing this.
Cathy loves her job. She loves families, babies, and birth. It pumps her. She loves her family. She loves the gathering of her tribe around her table, in her kitchen, exchanges, laughs, little ones, music, food. When called to leave one to attend another, she may feel a twinge of sadness.... but it is fleeting. She's off to join in another growing tribe. And her own tribe loves her. Understands. Waits. Patience is tested. Pride. Her family shares her with other families. Finally, the garage door is heard opening. Majestic takes her position as first greeter. A happy, sometimes weary Cathy walks through the door, and she's home. There are two separate families who have needed her and shared her that day. And Cathy's life is full in the giving of herself to both.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I think Donovan should have written a song about midwives. Cathy, this is for you, sing it to the tune of "Isle of Islay"
Off drives the midwife
In her car.
Away to a family
far, oh, far.
When will she come back
to us?
When will we see her
again?
There is a mother
needs her skill.
A baby arriving
at his will.
Holding the space
is her call.
Time standing still
through it all.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Secret Life of Midwives - Dads
It would be crazy to say that dads have the most difficult job during the birth of their babies. No one would buy it anyway. Well, possibly other dads. But, let us not disregard nor overlook the unsung partner in the childbirth experience.
I only attended two births, but there was plenty of time to observe. It kept my mind busy, plus I enjoy watching the dynamics of people. The man of the house has to be strong enough to be gentle. He has to read his wife, turn on his finest sensors, develop an extra layer of skin, and sharpen his mental capacity for staying focused.
In retrospect, I feel badly that we didn't emphasize and encourage the dads' intake of protein and liquids. It's very possible this was part of their birthing class preparation, and I simple wasn't present to hear the information. It is vital that dad is just as energized and hydrated as mom is during the exhausting journey of bringing their new baby into the world. He is the one who is going to have to remain strong and focused, during the times when his wife is waning in her strength and confidence. It is his role to know which hat to wear at the appropriate moment, sometimes wearing two at a time, and knowing when to toss the one that is annoying his wife, though he has no idea why it's annoying her!
I witnessed some of the needed hats, and I noted some hats that could come in handy.
1. Coach - Leave the whistle in the locker room, but bring your ability to encourage, support, and build your wife's confidence in her game. Remember, SHE is the one on the field!
2. Cheerleader - No need for a skirt and pom poms, but you will definitely need to cheer in spirit, not in volume.
3. Masseuse - Your bride will require unending amounts of massage, and it is your job to know what part of her needs the attention, how much strength to use, and for how long.
4. Stabilizer - If the emotional storm starts rocking the core of your wife, you are going to be called into action to calm her. This hat may also require a creative mind and equal parts of gentleness and firmness. Good luck.
5. Psychic - At any time, without warning, the current hat you're wearing will change its affect on your wife, and it will annoy her. Toss the hat as quickly as you can, and keep trying on other hats, until one meets her approval. Psychic abilities to foretell the coming annoyance will be hugely valuable to both of you.
As this beautiful event begins to unfold, take a moment to breathe, and mentally shower yourself in the love that the two of you share. Imagine God's hands, lovingly holding your sweet baby in deliverance to you and your wife. You are embarking on the journey that leaves you with the most precious souvenir of your life together. Family.
I only attended two births, but there was plenty of time to observe. It kept my mind busy, plus I enjoy watching the dynamics of people. The man of the house has to be strong enough to be gentle. He has to read his wife, turn on his finest sensors, develop an extra layer of skin, and sharpen his mental capacity for staying focused.
In retrospect, I feel badly that we didn't emphasize and encourage the dads' intake of protein and liquids. It's very possible this was part of their birthing class preparation, and I simple wasn't present to hear the information. It is vital that dad is just as energized and hydrated as mom is during the exhausting journey of bringing their new baby into the world. He is the one who is going to have to remain strong and focused, during the times when his wife is waning in her strength and confidence. It is his role to know which hat to wear at the appropriate moment, sometimes wearing two at a time, and knowing when to toss the one that is annoying his wife, though he has no idea why it's annoying her!
I witnessed some of the needed hats, and I noted some hats that could come in handy.
1. Coach - Leave the whistle in the locker room, but bring your ability to encourage, support, and build your wife's confidence in her game. Remember, SHE is the one on the field!
2. Cheerleader - No need for a skirt and pom poms, but you will definitely need to cheer in spirit, not in volume.
3. Masseuse - Your bride will require unending amounts of massage, and it is your job to know what part of her needs the attention, how much strength to use, and for how long.
4. Stabilizer - If the emotional storm starts rocking the core of your wife, you are going to be called into action to calm her. This hat may also require a creative mind and equal parts of gentleness and firmness. Good luck.
5. Psychic - At any time, without warning, the current hat you're wearing will change its affect on your wife, and it will annoy her. Toss the hat as quickly as you can, and keep trying on other hats, until one meets her approval. Psychic abilities to foretell the coming annoyance will be hugely valuable to both of you.
As this beautiful event begins to unfold, take a moment to breathe, and mentally shower yourself in the love that the two of you share. Imagine God's hands, lovingly holding your sweet baby in deliverance to you and your wife. You are embarking on the journey that leaves you with the most precious souvenir of your life together. Family.
Friday, July 16, 2010
The Secret Life of Midwives - Birth #2
I suppose since birth is such a spiritual and direct link to God, the ability to be intuitive and read the wants, desires, and needs of couples becomes clear. During the week, Cathy left for another birth. I'd met the couple at her home on Saturday, and I was touched by the bond and love between this couple. I had a feeling that their birth needed privacy. Cathy agreed, so, I stayed behind.
I really don't remember what we did on Friday, but later in the afternoon, Cathy and I each retreated to our own space to catch a nap. I was in a deep sleep, but for how long, I never checked. I was awakened by a text message (technology at its finest) from Cathy -- "Get your birthing suit ready." I looked at the message and thought, "Am I up for a repeat?", but, I then I realized Cathy wasn't inviting me, she was informing me. We needed to get ready. A minute or two later, I received another text that said, "We'll leave in 40 minutes."
I got up and went to her birth room of supplies. The towels were clean and folded, and I knew which bag was used for towels, so I packed the towels she would need. I don't really remember much more.. what did I wear? How did I get myself ready? I remember that we got the car packed and ready, that's about it. No more detailed memory than that.
Again, birth time. We arrived maybe around 8 pm. We were greeted by a nice, calm dad holding a, not feeling so well, 18 month old. A glowing mother, affectionately rubbing her tummy, was sitting on the lower stairs. I noticed, in the family room, were their other two boys, happily watching a movie. Three boys, and sometime before morning, their baby sister would be joining the family. How exciting! The comparison was made to Christmas morning, going to bed knowing Santa would visit during the night. Tonight, Santa Cathy would deliver their baby sister.
Cathy went upstairs with mom to check her, ask questions, and get a feel for what was presently happening. I started unpacking the car. If I may add a personal whine... the altitude of the Salt Lake City area is MUCH higher than what I'm used to in the Central Valley of California. And EVERYONE has stairs and levels to their homes!! Carrying things in and out from the car, up a driveway, up to the front door, and then upstairs in the house made me feel like an old worn out lady. The only positive part of it was, no one was around to talk to me, to find out how out of breath I was at such seemingly easy tasks! I felt privately out of shape and embarrassed.
The birthing pool was set up in the couple's bedroom, but had not been filled yet with water. Mom sent dad to the store to get snacks. Grandma was on her way to care for the boys. While surveying the birthing supplies, Cathy realized we'd forgotten the chair. She was disappointed, and took some time deciding if it was important enough to drive home to get. Since it appeared that her services were not going to be needed within the hour, Cathy decided we'd return home for the birthing chair. She estimated being away 40-50 minutes. She let dad know we were going to get it and on the way we'd stop at the store for some coconut milk for mom, her favorite rehydrating beverage. Dad seemed totally at ease and anticipated no problem with Cathy leaving. Cathy instructed him to call her immediately if anything changed, and she'd zip right back to their home.
Cathy called Briana to let her know who was in labor and update her on current details. Briana was at a concert with her sister, but said she'd come over as soon as it was over, which seemed within an appropriate time frame for the birth event.
We continued on our trip to retrieve the forgotten chair, and while at home realized we probably should get a protein snack to energize us for the pending activities. I had a nectarine with cottage cheese. I don't recall what Cathy had, but I know it was protein packed. We hop back into the car and drive back to the home of a waiting mother.
When we return, grandma has arrived to take over care of the boys, so dad is available for his role : a source of love, support, encouragement, and focus. (I will write more about the dads later). It is clear that mom is progressing in her labor.
Again, I witness a couple who have not stumbled upon their homebirth decision accidentally, or on a whim. A homebirth requires both husband and wife to be onboard completely. It requires a total committment and responsibility to the experience, from beginning to end. It requires confidence in the decision. This couple have had three children in a hospital setting. Cathy informs me, in the car, that the mom may need more verbal support during her birth, because she is working out of the realm of her previous birthing experiences. She might question more. She may need more reassurance as her birthing progresses with different decisions and techniques from her midwife at home.
We all go upstairs to the couple's bedroom. The pool is filling with hot water, so by the time mom needs to get into it, the water is comfortable. Contractions are felt strongly in her back hips, and she needs her husband to provide counter pressure, by using his arms to squeeze against her hips during contractions. I privately time her contractions, as an activity to keep myself focused on the events. It really is amazing to me that contractions get into a rhythm, and can be predictably expected. At this time, they were occurring every 5 minutes.
Mom begins to appear sort of restless. She's looking around, appraising her own situation, and then voices to Cathy that she really doesn't think she wants to use the birthing pool. She is almost apologetic in her tone, and asks if that's okay. It wasn't surprising to me that Cathy let her know that it is all her decision, and it is perfectly okay for her to do this anyway she wants. I look at Cathy's face, and I suspect she believes the mom will change her mind, but she is not going to express that at this time. I wonder if my presence is a distraction for mom. I don't feel she wants her body so publicly expose, so I go downstairs and write in the journal I brought with me.
After a while, Cathy comes downstairs and joins me. Mom was doing fine, and possibly needed some time to get herself sorted. Cathy gives the couple some alone time. In a bit, Cathy is called back upstairs to the bedroom. I follow to see if there is anything I can do to be of service, within reason of course. I know that each time Cathy checks the baby's heart rate, I need to record time and rate. I record other events, figuring if it's not necessary information, Cathy can simply omit it when writing her final records.
Mom is definitely being called to duty. She's doing everything right, yet definitely feeling some strong contractions. Her husband is giving her all the support he can, continuing with the counterpressure on her hips. Birthing time continues, and I really don't recall the elapsed time. Briana and her sister, Candace, arrive. Once again, Briana doesn't waste anytime, she gets right into the bedroom and finds a midwife perch.
At some point, mom was getting tired and frustrated with the pain and her laboring positions. She asked Cathy if the pain would be any better or relieved in the pool. Cathy smiled and said, that it would help. I noticed, almost instantly, that once mom moved into the pool and got situated, she seemed to relax a lot more during the contractions. She was asking questions, just as Cathy predicted. She made a comment that her hospital midwife did something that helped progress the birth. Cathy listened, but really didn't respond or comment.
While she was laboring in the pool, I took notice of Briana and Cathy. Later, I would imitate what I coined, "the midwife stare." They sat very quietly and watched the mom labor. Just watched. Sometimes Briana's eyebrow would give away her thoughts, and it would arch. I wondered what analysis she was privately forming. To me, it just looked like they were staring at her, allowing her to work through her own process. Cathy explained that, in the midwife world, this is referred to as "holding the space."
Cathy continues to check the mom and baby. All is fine, progress is being made, but it seems the sac is bulging, but not breaking. Cathy reports to mom that she now understands what the previous hospital midwife may have done to progress the delivery. Together, Cathy, Briana, mom, and dad decide that Cathy should puncture the bag, since it seems to be in the path. They decide to do this over the toilet. After the bag has been able to release, mom returns, not to the pool, but to her bed. The final phase of birth begins to unfold.
Their baby's head starts to show, and I witness an event that will forever touch my heart. Dad lovingly and gently "talks" this baby and mother through the delivery. He is telling his wife everything he sees of their baby girl.... "Oh, I see our little girl's head!" "She has hair!" "Oh, our baby girl is coming" And he continued to verbally support his wife in this most precious, gentle fashion. This baby girl inched her way out, peacefully, gently, and beautifully. And, in joy, she rested on the chest of her mother, with both parents enveloping her in their love.
This new baby girl cried dutifully, then rested so comfortably and contently with her mother, it was apparent that this is a child of peace and calm. Her brothers had gone to bed hours earlier, with eager anticipation of meeting their baby sister in the morning. They were not going to be disappointed.
I really don't remember what we did on Friday, but later in the afternoon, Cathy and I each retreated to our own space to catch a nap. I was in a deep sleep, but for how long, I never checked. I was awakened by a text message (technology at its finest) from Cathy -- "Get your birthing suit ready." I looked at the message and thought, "Am I up for a repeat?", but, I then I realized Cathy wasn't inviting me, she was informing me. We needed to get ready. A minute or two later, I received another text that said, "We'll leave in 40 minutes."
I got up and went to her birth room of supplies. The towels were clean and folded, and I knew which bag was used for towels, so I packed the towels she would need. I don't really remember much more.. what did I wear? How did I get myself ready? I remember that we got the car packed and ready, that's about it. No more detailed memory than that.
Again, birth time. We arrived maybe around 8 pm. We were greeted by a nice, calm dad holding a, not feeling so well, 18 month old. A glowing mother, affectionately rubbing her tummy, was sitting on the lower stairs. I noticed, in the family room, were their other two boys, happily watching a movie. Three boys, and sometime before morning, their baby sister would be joining the family. How exciting! The comparison was made to Christmas morning, going to bed knowing Santa would visit during the night. Tonight, Santa Cathy would deliver their baby sister.
Cathy went upstairs with mom to check her, ask questions, and get a feel for what was presently happening. I started unpacking the car. If I may add a personal whine... the altitude of the Salt Lake City area is MUCH higher than what I'm used to in the Central Valley of California. And EVERYONE has stairs and levels to their homes!! Carrying things in and out from the car, up a driveway, up to the front door, and then upstairs in the house made me feel like an old worn out lady. The only positive part of it was, no one was around to talk to me, to find out how out of breath I was at such seemingly easy tasks! I felt privately out of shape and embarrassed.
The birthing pool was set up in the couple's bedroom, but had not been filled yet with water. Mom sent dad to the store to get snacks. Grandma was on her way to care for the boys. While surveying the birthing supplies, Cathy realized we'd forgotten the chair. She was disappointed, and took some time deciding if it was important enough to drive home to get. Since it appeared that her services were not going to be needed within the hour, Cathy decided we'd return home for the birthing chair. She estimated being away 40-50 minutes. She let dad know we were going to get it and on the way we'd stop at the store for some coconut milk for mom, her favorite rehydrating beverage. Dad seemed totally at ease and anticipated no problem with Cathy leaving. Cathy instructed him to call her immediately if anything changed, and she'd zip right back to their home.
Cathy called Briana to let her know who was in labor and update her on current details. Briana was at a concert with her sister, but said she'd come over as soon as it was over, which seemed within an appropriate time frame for the birth event.
We continued on our trip to retrieve the forgotten chair, and while at home realized we probably should get a protein snack to energize us for the pending activities. I had a nectarine with cottage cheese. I don't recall what Cathy had, but I know it was protein packed. We hop back into the car and drive back to the home of a waiting mother.
When we return, grandma has arrived to take over care of the boys, so dad is available for his role : a source of love, support, encouragement, and focus. (I will write more about the dads later). It is clear that mom is progressing in her labor.
Again, I witness a couple who have not stumbled upon their homebirth decision accidentally, or on a whim. A homebirth requires both husband and wife to be onboard completely. It requires a total committment and responsibility to the experience, from beginning to end. It requires confidence in the decision. This couple have had three children in a hospital setting. Cathy informs me, in the car, that the mom may need more verbal support during her birth, because she is working out of the realm of her previous birthing experiences. She might question more. She may need more reassurance as her birthing progresses with different decisions and techniques from her midwife at home.
We all go upstairs to the couple's bedroom. The pool is filling with hot water, so by the time mom needs to get into it, the water is comfortable. Contractions are felt strongly in her back hips, and she needs her husband to provide counter pressure, by using his arms to squeeze against her hips during contractions. I privately time her contractions, as an activity to keep myself focused on the events. It really is amazing to me that contractions get into a rhythm, and can be predictably expected. At this time, they were occurring every 5 minutes.
Mom begins to appear sort of restless. She's looking around, appraising her own situation, and then voices to Cathy that she really doesn't think she wants to use the birthing pool. She is almost apologetic in her tone, and asks if that's okay. It wasn't surprising to me that Cathy let her know that it is all her decision, and it is perfectly okay for her to do this anyway she wants. I look at Cathy's face, and I suspect she believes the mom will change her mind, but she is not going to express that at this time. I wonder if my presence is a distraction for mom. I don't feel she wants her body so publicly expose, so I go downstairs and write in the journal I brought with me.
After a while, Cathy comes downstairs and joins me. Mom was doing fine, and possibly needed some time to get herself sorted. Cathy gives the couple some alone time. In a bit, Cathy is called back upstairs to the bedroom. I follow to see if there is anything I can do to be of service, within reason of course. I know that each time Cathy checks the baby's heart rate, I need to record time and rate. I record other events, figuring if it's not necessary information, Cathy can simply omit it when writing her final records.
Mom is definitely being called to duty. She's doing everything right, yet definitely feeling some strong contractions. Her husband is giving her all the support he can, continuing with the counterpressure on her hips. Birthing time continues, and I really don't recall the elapsed time. Briana and her sister, Candace, arrive. Once again, Briana doesn't waste anytime, she gets right into the bedroom and finds a midwife perch.
At some point, mom was getting tired and frustrated with the pain and her laboring positions. She asked Cathy if the pain would be any better or relieved in the pool. Cathy smiled and said, that it would help. I noticed, almost instantly, that once mom moved into the pool and got situated, she seemed to relax a lot more during the contractions. She was asking questions, just as Cathy predicted. She made a comment that her hospital midwife did something that helped progress the birth. Cathy listened, but really didn't respond or comment.
While she was laboring in the pool, I took notice of Briana and Cathy. Later, I would imitate what I coined, "the midwife stare." They sat very quietly and watched the mom labor. Just watched. Sometimes Briana's eyebrow would give away her thoughts, and it would arch. I wondered what analysis she was privately forming. To me, it just looked like they were staring at her, allowing her to work through her own process. Cathy explained that, in the midwife world, this is referred to as "holding the space."
Cathy continues to check the mom and baby. All is fine, progress is being made, but it seems the sac is bulging, but not breaking. Cathy reports to mom that she now understands what the previous hospital midwife may have done to progress the delivery. Together, Cathy, Briana, mom, and dad decide that Cathy should puncture the bag, since it seems to be in the path. They decide to do this over the toilet. After the bag has been able to release, mom returns, not to the pool, but to her bed. The final phase of birth begins to unfold.
Their baby's head starts to show, and I witness an event that will forever touch my heart. Dad lovingly and gently "talks" this baby and mother through the delivery. He is telling his wife everything he sees of their baby girl.... "Oh, I see our little girl's head!" "She has hair!" "Oh, our baby girl is coming" And he continued to verbally support his wife in this most precious, gentle fashion. This baby girl inched her way out, peacefully, gently, and beautifully. And, in joy, she rested on the chest of her mother, with both parents enveloping her in their love.
This new baby girl cried dutifully, then rested so comfortably and contently with her mother, it was apparent that this is a child of peace and calm. Her brothers had gone to bed hours earlier, with eager anticipation of meeting their baby sister in the morning. They were not going to be disappointed.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Secret Life of Midwives
While visiting my soul sister, Cathy, I was invited into her sacred world of midwifery. I arrived at her home on a Saturday night, right in the middle of a party, celebrating the conclusion of a birthing class she'd taught. There were six couples, two of the couples were there to share their birth stories, and the other four happily/anxiously awaiting the birth of their baby. Cathy introduced me to the group and explained that I may be attending with her at any one of their births. I was amazed that no one seemed to balk at the idea, or at least, no one did in my presence.
I cannot say I was positively up for the idea of witnessing one of Cathy's births. I didn't know how I would react. I didn't know if I would get squeamish. I didn't know if I'd be more of a bother than a help. I even worried about getting bored! But, I'm learning this about my lifetime friend.... she is exceptionally skilled at easing me out of my comfort zone, and I trust her. She makes me want to be a better person. She has faith in my abilities, when I am busy questioning myself. I had to turn myself over to her confidence and follow her lead.
Of this I am sure - Cathy is skilled, gifted, and born to this Earth to support and love couples as they welcome their babies to their family.
It was the evening of July 4, and Cathy got into her own preparatory mode. She started getting towels packed, looked over her birthing basket to restock necessary items, checked that her oxygen tank was working properly, and basically, getting herself ready for whomever called her first. Everything was in order, ready to go.
Birth #1
July 5, it's time. We got the car packed and I accompanied Cathy to the home of our first birth of the week. We gathered her bags, baskets, and duffles, and proceeded to the home. As we were walking through the complex, Cathy said, "Isn't it cool that there is all this living going on around here, but in one apartment, there is a baby getting ready to be born?" Yes, it was very cool.
This is one of those experiences that as soon as it's over, you can't remember how you'd pictured it to be. We entered an apartment that was quiet, soothing, and prepared. Candles were lit, a well chosen playlist was creating a deliberate mood, and a beautiful laboring mom welcomed us into her home. Husband greeted us politely, but it was obvious he was there for one person, and she owned his attention. What soon struck me, as wonderful, was the fact that this couple had created their birth scene. It was staged in the way that the two of them had chosen as the best way to bring their new baby into their loving world. I would learn later in the week, that these birth scenes are personal,individual,and equally beautiful.
As Cathy gave her attention to the mom, as a support, not a director, I found myself feeling completely soothed, relaxed, and taken in by the calming energy in the home. Cathy gave me the recording job, documenting events, heart rates, stations, etc. Parents asked if I'd take pictures. Both of these assignments were within my capabilities, and made me feel within my personal parameters of being useful.
The laboring mom kept herself moving, feeling her body's work, breathing herself along the natural path her body was creating for this event. What really impressed me about this mother was that she seemed to own her labor. She was working with it, keeping herself on top of the discomfort (PC term for pain) in a way to work through it, not tightening against it. I could see her concentration and determination to not let it get the best of her. I thought she looked radiantly beautiful. I wish I could see the pictures of her, because I was sure I was capturing her deepest beauty as she performed her great task.
Then, it was apparent that she had transitioned into a deeper level of labor. Her participation in conversation ceased, as she entered a much more demanding phase. She started to vocalize more, as had been discussed and practiced in the birthing classes. Moaning is not a purely accurate description. It is an expulsion of energy. Release. Flow. Using her voice to work with the pain, not against it. I found it to be an empowering, earthy sound.
Cathy is positioned close by, quietly reading the mother's movements and sounds. She seems to know the exact time to suggest an adjustment in position. She offers help. I watch Cathy watch the mom. Cathy uses well experienced measures of intuition and medical knowledge. A perfect balance.
There is no denying that the time was starting to approach. Mom's intensity creates a heightened energy in the room. It pumps into everyone, a blanket of adrenaline, so that all present are prepared for action. The energy is still pure and good, not a manic energy at all. I'd describe it more as a living energy. I'm pretty sure Cathy has grown addicted to this energy. It is full of life.
Mom is in the birthing pool, and we see her baby begin to emerge. Cathy is guiding her with gentle words, as well as guiding her baby from her body. I really don't know what the time frame was during this part of the birth. I'm not sure I was breathing. The baby is a good size, and his shoulders are not coming through easily. Cathy doesn't exhibit any signs of anxiety or fear. In a very controlled tone, she instructs the dad and me to help her lift mom out of the birthing pool and place her gently on the towels already spread on the floor. Cathy needs a better position to help get this baby's shoulders turned.
Cathy and mom are working together, and there is a general sense of urgency, but Cathy is not showing any signs of distress, she is completely focused. She enlists us to help this mom turn to her hands and knees, hoping that position will help turn the baby and allow Cathy to get a better grip (I'm thinking). AH!! The baby is out, and in one motion, Cathy hands him through mom's legs to her, so she instantly has her new baby boy in her arms. A family grew before my eyes.
My novice, supremely naive self thought that we'd clean up, pack up, and get home in time for a tasty lunch. It was just a little after 2:00 pm, so I allowed myself to start thinking about eating. I'd forgotten that, at one time, Cathy had explained to me that her role elevates at the moment of birth. This is when a midwife's skill, knowledge, and expertise are most needed. And, this mom needed Cathy.
Mom, dad, and baby got themselves to the bed, leaving behind a graphic reminder that this birth wasn't completely smooth sailing. Cathy joined them, waiting for the placenta to pass, tending to mom, and checking the happy condition of new baby. Since I had nothing with which to compare, I thought this was all within the norm for a birth. Later, I would learn that this was one of Cathy's more difficult births. I would have never known had she not shared that. Nothing about Cathy's demeanor indicated anything other than normal. Nor, did this incredible mother show any panic, fear, or frustration. I witnessed the peak of female strength.
I also experienced a new concept of time. Birthing time. Time is not measured by a traditional clock. It is internally measured. It is transitionally measured. Time during a birth moves separately from the outside world. As I mentally retrace this birth story, from my vantage point, I find myself recalling time in different increments. Cathy's midwife partner, Briana arrived. What time? Sometime after the placenta! 15 minutes after placenta?
Briana's arrival brought new eyes, fresh perspective. She was not drained by the focus necessary for the labor and birth. As Cathy addressed some of the mom's issues, Briana was now available as a collaborative partner and a team member. She entered, scanned, assessed, and jumped into helping Cathy. She appeared to do this quite effortlessly, making it look everyday and breezy. Personally, I was relieved to see her! I didn't know what Cathy might ask me to do next.
A baby was born at 2:07 pm. This is the only exact time documented. We were packed up and driving away sometime around 6 pm.
On July 5, my world expanded.
I cannot say I was positively up for the idea of witnessing one of Cathy's births. I didn't know how I would react. I didn't know if I would get squeamish. I didn't know if I'd be more of a bother than a help. I even worried about getting bored! But, I'm learning this about my lifetime friend.... she is exceptionally skilled at easing me out of my comfort zone, and I trust her. She makes me want to be a better person. She has faith in my abilities, when I am busy questioning myself. I had to turn myself over to her confidence and follow her lead.
Of this I am sure - Cathy is skilled, gifted, and born to this Earth to support and love couples as they welcome their babies to their family.
It was the evening of July 4, and Cathy got into her own preparatory mode. She started getting towels packed, looked over her birthing basket to restock necessary items, checked that her oxygen tank was working properly, and basically, getting herself ready for whomever called her first. Everything was in order, ready to go.
Birth #1
July 5, it's time. We got the car packed and I accompanied Cathy to the home of our first birth of the week. We gathered her bags, baskets, and duffles, and proceeded to the home. As we were walking through the complex, Cathy said, "Isn't it cool that there is all this living going on around here, but in one apartment, there is a baby getting ready to be born?" Yes, it was very cool.
This is one of those experiences that as soon as it's over, you can't remember how you'd pictured it to be. We entered an apartment that was quiet, soothing, and prepared. Candles were lit, a well chosen playlist was creating a deliberate mood, and a beautiful laboring mom welcomed us into her home. Husband greeted us politely, but it was obvious he was there for one person, and she owned his attention. What soon struck me, as wonderful, was the fact that this couple had created their birth scene. It was staged in the way that the two of them had chosen as the best way to bring their new baby into their loving world. I would learn later in the week, that these birth scenes are personal,individual,and equally beautiful.
As Cathy gave her attention to the mom, as a support, not a director, I found myself feeling completely soothed, relaxed, and taken in by the calming energy in the home. Cathy gave me the recording job, documenting events, heart rates, stations, etc. Parents asked if I'd take pictures. Both of these assignments were within my capabilities, and made me feel within my personal parameters of being useful.
The laboring mom kept herself moving, feeling her body's work, breathing herself along the natural path her body was creating for this event. What really impressed me about this mother was that she seemed to own her labor. She was working with it, keeping herself on top of the discomfort (PC term for pain) in a way to work through it, not tightening against it. I could see her concentration and determination to not let it get the best of her. I thought she looked radiantly beautiful. I wish I could see the pictures of her, because I was sure I was capturing her deepest beauty as she performed her great task.
Then, it was apparent that she had transitioned into a deeper level of labor. Her participation in conversation ceased, as she entered a much more demanding phase. She started to vocalize more, as had been discussed and practiced in the birthing classes. Moaning is not a purely accurate description. It is an expulsion of energy. Release. Flow. Using her voice to work with the pain, not against it. I found it to be an empowering, earthy sound.
Cathy is positioned close by, quietly reading the mother's movements and sounds. She seems to know the exact time to suggest an adjustment in position. She offers help. I watch Cathy watch the mom. Cathy uses well experienced measures of intuition and medical knowledge. A perfect balance.
There is no denying that the time was starting to approach. Mom's intensity creates a heightened energy in the room. It pumps into everyone, a blanket of adrenaline, so that all present are prepared for action. The energy is still pure and good, not a manic energy at all. I'd describe it more as a living energy. I'm pretty sure Cathy has grown addicted to this energy. It is full of life.
Mom is in the birthing pool, and we see her baby begin to emerge. Cathy is guiding her with gentle words, as well as guiding her baby from her body. I really don't know what the time frame was during this part of the birth. I'm not sure I was breathing. The baby is a good size, and his shoulders are not coming through easily. Cathy doesn't exhibit any signs of anxiety or fear. In a very controlled tone, she instructs the dad and me to help her lift mom out of the birthing pool and place her gently on the towels already spread on the floor. Cathy needs a better position to help get this baby's shoulders turned.
Cathy and mom are working together, and there is a general sense of urgency, but Cathy is not showing any signs of distress, she is completely focused. She enlists us to help this mom turn to her hands and knees, hoping that position will help turn the baby and allow Cathy to get a better grip (I'm thinking). AH!! The baby is out, and in one motion, Cathy hands him through mom's legs to her, so she instantly has her new baby boy in her arms. A family grew before my eyes.
My novice, supremely naive self thought that we'd clean up, pack up, and get home in time for a tasty lunch. It was just a little after 2:00 pm, so I allowed myself to start thinking about eating. I'd forgotten that, at one time, Cathy had explained to me that her role elevates at the moment of birth. This is when a midwife's skill, knowledge, and expertise are most needed. And, this mom needed Cathy.
Mom, dad, and baby got themselves to the bed, leaving behind a graphic reminder that this birth wasn't completely smooth sailing. Cathy joined them, waiting for the placenta to pass, tending to mom, and checking the happy condition of new baby. Since I had nothing with which to compare, I thought this was all within the norm for a birth. Later, I would learn that this was one of Cathy's more difficult births. I would have never known had she not shared that. Nothing about Cathy's demeanor indicated anything other than normal. Nor, did this incredible mother show any panic, fear, or frustration. I witnessed the peak of female strength.
I also experienced a new concept of time. Birthing time. Time is not measured by a traditional clock. It is internally measured. It is transitionally measured. Time during a birth moves separately from the outside world. As I mentally retrace this birth story, from my vantage point, I find myself recalling time in different increments. Cathy's midwife partner, Briana arrived. What time? Sometime after the placenta! 15 minutes after placenta?
Briana's arrival brought new eyes, fresh perspective. She was not drained by the focus necessary for the labor and birth. As Cathy addressed some of the mom's issues, Briana was now available as a collaborative partner and a team member. She entered, scanned, assessed, and jumped into helping Cathy. She appeared to do this quite effortlessly, making it look everyday and breezy. Personally, I was relieved to see her! I didn't know what Cathy might ask me to do next.
A baby was born at 2:07 pm. This is the only exact time documented. We were packed up and driving away sometime around 6 pm.
On July 5, my world expanded.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
...and they're all made out of ticky tacky...
Showtime - Weeds
I really love this series. I have a crush on Conrad, the talented weed grower. Today, while watching season 2 - episode 12 (or maybe it was 11) - I heard a line that insisted I write it down and rejoice that there are writers who allow their imaginations to float out of the mundane box...
... "she stabbed me with an icicle when she thought I kicked one of her spirit animals."
very rewind/rewatch worthy.
The opening song is "Little Boxes"... beginning with season 2, the song is performed by a different artist each episode. I like that.
Joan Baez
Michael Franti
Randy Newman
Linkin Park
I like Laurie Berkner's version... I don't know her
good grief, even Englebert Humperdink!!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Time To Be
Progress isn't achievement. Progress is fluid. Achievement is a landmark on the way.
I want a bowl of black sand for some of my crystals. It is a desire.
It's time to order more palo santo. I'm burning my last stick.
I'm daily addicted to Ciao Bella's Sicilian Blood Orange sorbet. It's my summer love.
I think I'll go to Yellowstone.
I'm alone and breathing peacefully.
I bought a kettlebell for exercising, and I like it.
A weird car just drove slowly past the house. Looks like an old-fashioned unmarked car. Dragnet.
This is what happens when I have time to think. When I own my days and the freedom of my thoughts. I have the luxury of random thinking, a mental skip-a-long for my own enjoyment.
My brain is wandering through it's own garden of thoughts.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Sage Cleanse
I decided to sage my home today. I do it whenever I feel like it needs an energy uplift. I love the deep smell of the sage. I love how the smoke curls up from the bundle, like it knows it's purpose. I ask the sage to gather any negativity in my home and corral it, then carry it out of the open windows after it's been harvested.
I felt better afterwards.
This is my spirit basket. Contents are:
* sage bundle from Mendocino County
* smudging feather - purchased with sage
* palo santo stick
* labradorite - (protective while traveling. This one is going to Utah)
* jet (naturally protective)- Brass Unicorn in Fresno
* snowflake obsidian - (new beginnings) - Ojai
* not sure what the white one is, how it got in there, or where I got it.
I felt better afterwards.
This is my spirit basket. Contents are:
* sage bundle from Mendocino County
* smudging feather - purchased with sage
* palo santo stick
* labradorite - (protective while traveling. This one is going to Utah)
* jet (naturally protective)- Brass Unicorn in Fresno
* snowflake obsidian - (new beginnings) - Ojai
* not sure what the white one is, how it got in there, or where I got it.
Monday, May 10, 2010
My boy
My boy gave me a beautiful card, with a heartfilled message. His heart is good and gentle to me year 'round (mostly). We went out for lunch together and talked. His bedroom is now my office, and we sat in the transformed room together. He sat in my "invisible chair" and mentioned that this used to be his room. I looked around the room, and enjoyed my mental photo album.
This room used to be a nursery. I pictured the first time I changed his diaper when we brought him home from the hospital. I was inexperienced, clumsy, and unsure. Anthony and my mom stood at my left and right, each looking over my shoulder.
I looked at the floor, because in those days, I didn't use a changing table or the crib. I liked to change his diaper on the floor. I pictured a naked baby crawling away from me, squealing and giggling at the fresh breeze on his behind.
I pictured a happy, smiling baby, standing in the same crib, waiting for his mother to lift him out.
I saw the race car bed and a little boy sleeping in it.
I saw twin beds, with Jake in one and me in the other. I had more difficult detachment issues than he did.
I saw clothes, toys, and miscellaneous crap everywhere. And an irritated and overwhelmed mom.
I heard the slamming door of a frustrated and angry teenager.
I saw a teenager sitting in his room, with his sketch pad, drawing and creating.
I saw a room with posters everywhere, and pin/nail holes sprinkled randomly across every wall (and the ceiling)
I saw other boys, friends, sitting in this room, sleeping on this floor.
And now, I looked at a young man, sitting across from me, with plans, dreams, and wonder-ifs running through his head.
I look at a young man who grew in me, and I have grown because of him.
I have only one person on this earth who calls me mom. His name is Jake. He's my baby. He's my boy. He's my family.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Water Recipe
Cucumber, fresh mint, and ginger. No measurements, go with what you feel. I find that the mint dominates in taste, while the cucumber creates an early, spring morning freshness. I was careful in adding the ginger, because I didn't want it to turn out too gingery. I peeled the ginger and only added 3 or 4 quarter sized slices. I think I'll add more.
I'm not an eager water-drinker. This is a nice water to drink. Actually, this has to be very stomach settling, with the mint and ginger.
Give it a try.
I'm not an eager water-drinker. This is a nice water to drink. Actually, this has to be very stomach settling, with the mint and ginger.
Give it a try.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Shadow-dancing with Insanity
There is a chunk of time in the early evening, that I like to call "limbo'clock." After dinner, it's a time when there's nothing really to do or think about, sort of an empty time. It's too late for a nap, but too early for bed, yet, not enough time to get involved in anything exciting. Often, during limbo'clock I'll decide to drive to Hanford for some random shopping.
Tonight, my initial intention was to go to Michael's (Stepford craft women ---- shivers!). I need to get my supplies for Mothers' Day projects. I'm not a religious Michael's shopper, so I wasn't aware that the store closed at 7 pm on Sundays. I arrived at.... 7 pm. So, I walked two doors down to Marshalls, walked through with only a slight interest, bought some workout clothes (whatever) and left.
Next, I went to Target, because I needed laundry soap. I completely love the randomness that is available by shopping at Target. The only "must purchase" necessary was the soap. But, really... why waste a drive and Target trip for only one item!? So, I started my zigzag through the store.
At some point, I started to feel out of my body. It was like I wanted to rush through the store and pretend I was in a shopping sweepstakes! The urge to *make purchases* was building momentum inside me. I really needed nothing, but I wanted to buy stuff.
I looked at:
Keurig coffee pods
kitchen cafe curtains
bedding (I think I have a bedding fetish)
wall shelves
bar stools
iPods
TVs
CDs
exercise balls
hangers
purses
clutch/wallets
make up
computer ink
books
baby clothes (Diane, you may very well benefit from my insanity)
I DID mention random shopping, didn't I? As I was morphing into a moth around a Target porch light, I started to focus on this inner urge to buy something. I really felt like just throwing crap into my cart. I was wondering what it felt like to start a slow boil to insanity.
When I was wandering through the book section, I saw a number of books I would love to buy and read, which brought to mind that some years ago I lost my ability to really read. Okay, I still know HOW to read, but I never do that - nose in a book - kind of reading. I loved that kind of reading. I feel like I've lost a chunk of my attention span for reading. I read a couple of pages, then I close the book. I've narrowed down the reason to 1)eyesight dwindle and/or 2)no place in the house with good lighting and comfort. I have lighting OR comfort, but nowhere with both.
Back to the insanity. I started thinking about this lack of reading attention, and started to wonder if this is some early stage of fading away from intellectual strength? Should I force myself to read? I like to read. I just don't read intensely. I'm thinking I should keep my reading brain in good shape, or I might lose brain tone. My brain might get flabby. It's happening to other parts of me, the brain might be losing it's tone too. (Keep in mind, I probably appeared to be a normal shopper, but these were the thoughts that were running through my mind).
Wait! Maybe blogging is keeping my brain in shape! Oh, not if I write randomly. Oh great! Now I'm just encouraging my own abstract randomness.
Well, one thing that is comforting. I completely filled in my limbo'clock and it's now time for bed. Which leads me to the thrill that my sheets are white and freshly washed. Ahhhhh.
Tonight, my initial intention was to go to Michael's (Stepford craft women ---- shivers!). I need to get my supplies for Mothers' Day projects. I'm not a religious Michael's shopper, so I wasn't aware that the store closed at 7 pm on Sundays. I arrived at.... 7 pm. So, I walked two doors down to Marshalls, walked through with only a slight interest, bought some workout clothes (whatever) and left.
Next, I went to Target, because I needed laundry soap. I completely love the randomness that is available by shopping at Target. The only "must purchase" necessary was the soap. But, really... why waste a drive and Target trip for only one item!? So, I started my zigzag through the store.
At some point, I started to feel out of my body. It was like I wanted to rush through the store and pretend I was in a shopping sweepstakes! The urge to *make purchases* was building momentum inside me. I really needed nothing, but I wanted to buy stuff.
I looked at:
Keurig coffee pods
kitchen cafe curtains
bedding (I think I have a bedding fetish)
wall shelves
bar stools
iPods
TVs
CDs
exercise balls
hangers
purses
clutch/wallets
make up
computer ink
books
baby clothes (Diane, you may very well benefit from my insanity)
I DID mention random shopping, didn't I? As I was morphing into a moth around a Target porch light, I started to focus on this inner urge to buy something. I really felt like just throwing crap into my cart. I was wondering what it felt like to start a slow boil to insanity.
When I was wandering through the book section, I saw a number of books I would love to buy and read, which brought to mind that some years ago I lost my ability to really read. Okay, I still know HOW to read, but I never do that - nose in a book - kind of reading. I loved that kind of reading. I feel like I've lost a chunk of my attention span for reading. I read a couple of pages, then I close the book. I've narrowed down the reason to 1)eyesight dwindle and/or 2)no place in the house with good lighting and comfort. I have lighting OR comfort, but nowhere with both.
Back to the insanity. I started thinking about this lack of reading attention, and started to wonder if this is some early stage of fading away from intellectual strength? Should I force myself to read? I like to read. I just don't read intensely. I'm thinking I should keep my reading brain in good shape, or I might lose brain tone. My brain might get flabby. It's happening to other parts of me, the brain might be losing it's tone too. (Keep in mind, I probably appeared to be a normal shopper, but these were the thoughts that were running through my mind).
Wait! Maybe blogging is keeping my brain in shape! Oh, not if I write randomly. Oh great! Now I'm just encouraging my own abstract randomness.
Well, one thing that is comforting. I completely filled in my limbo'clock and it's now time for bed. Which leads me to the thrill that my sheets are white and freshly washed. Ahhhhh.
summer
I keep thinking about summer. Not the heat. Each season fogs the memory of how hot summer can be. So does indoor air conditioning.
I'm thinking about my travel plans and my first big solo, cross state line adventure.
I love to plan for "something". To pick up the idea in my head and look at it from every angle.
I love options and researching the best option.
How can I get the most bang for my buck? Southern route the first leg and take the across/northern route on the return trip.
I love an open-ended plan, with no restrictions. I really love no restrictions.
I wonder what my brain will think about during those hours alone on the road?
I will plan my music playlist and I'll plan on loud singing on the way.
I'll try to not be in a hurry.
I'm excited to have my own car so I can throw in whatever I need and probably a lot of what I won't need. (no restrictions)
Oh! I just remembered... SNACKS!!
I need this trip. I need to breathe. I need to reboot.
I feel screamy in my heart!
I'm thinking about my travel plans and my first big solo, cross state line adventure.
I love to plan for "something". To pick up the idea in my head and look at it from every angle.
I love options and researching the best option.
How can I get the most bang for my buck? Southern route the first leg and take the across/northern route on the return trip.
I love an open-ended plan, with no restrictions. I really love no restrictions.
I wonder what my brain will think about during those hours alone on the road?
I will plan my music playlist and I'll plan on loud singing on the way.
I'll try to not be in a hurry.
I'm excited to have my own car so I can throw in whatever I need and probably a lot of what I won't need. (no restrictions)
Oh! I just remembered... SNACKS!!
I need this trip. I need to breathe. I need to reboot.
I feel screamy in my heart!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Another school year
It seems like I was just posting about the coming school year, and preparing for my new crop of 3rd graders.
Now, we're winding down another entire school year. I've added another notch, another personality year. Class number 29. Amazing that it goes that fast. I wish I could post pictures of some of these faces. I can't even post names. But, here is a sampling of the personalities:
girl - entered so shy. She would only marginally speak to me. She actually seemed frightened of me (at times, with good reason). But, she was prime for academic growth. I could see that in her. She has very supportive parents, who love her so dearly, and want her to push to her fullest capabilities. Definitely her ace in the hole.
She's now almost chatty with me. She's shown wonderful growth this year. She has blossomed. She's on her way.
boy - I have one who is a tough one. He's determined to take the path of bad choices. He's drawn to it, doesn't fear it, and won't allow himself to care about the punishments or consequences. But, we have a relationship. I'm hard on him, I refuse to let up on him, and he knows it. He knows it comes from my heart.
crazy boy - this is my ADD dancer. He HAS to move. I love him!!! He is a big ball of happy. He's on meds, and they help him. If he isn't on his meds, he wiggles and moves constantly. He even wiggles and wags his tongue! It cracks me up. He's a good student, and the meds help him to focus, but they don't fog him up. He loves life. His enthusiasm is contagious.
fairy/pixie girl - everyone should hear her say her Pledge of Allegiance in the morning. It is precious. She says it with a full, patriotic heart. Her eyes twinkle when she smiles.
over-indulged boy - There's always one. I understand the hole they're trying to fill in him... give him "things".. give him whatever he wants.. make him happy. His mom left when he was a toddler. He's loved by his grandparents. HUGELY loved. They just want to fill that sadness. A note to his mom..... "Do you have any idea what damage your selfishness has done?"
bossy boy - Soooooo smart!!! I love teaching this one. But, my oh my... he is one bossy guy!!! When I mentioned this to his mom and sisters during our conference (sisters were there to translate), they all burst into laughter! I wasn't telling them anything they didn't already know!! He is definitely a leader. I can't wait to see where this one goes and what he accomplishes.
And, the year winds down to a close. We've spent a school year together. We've grown in many ways. We've butted heads. We've laughed. We've danced and listened to music. We've learned. We've learned about one another. We've struggled. We gave each other the flu. We've had hurt feelings. Friends moved away. New friends moved in. Some friends moved and returned! School life is real life, concentrated within four walls.
One last note. This week I didn't wear a bra. I only wore camisoles with shelf bras in them. I've been much more relaxed, much more patient, and waaaaaay more comfortable. If they don't like a little jiggle, they can call me into the principal's office. Who knew that braless = happy teacher?!?! I'm going to share that at the lunch table tomorrow.
Now, we're winding down another entire school year. I've added another notch, another personality year. Class number 29. Amazing that it goes that fast. I wish I could post pictures of some of these faces. I can't even post names. But, here is a sampling of the personalities:
girl - entered so shy. She would only marginally speak to me. She actually seemed frightened of me (at times, with good reason). But, she was prime for academic growth. I could see that in her. She has very supportive parents, who love her so dearly, and want her to push to her fullest capabilities. Definitely her ace in the hole.
She's now almost chatty with me. She's shown wonderful growth this year. She has blossomed. She's on her way.
boy - I have one who is a tough one. He's determined to take the path of bad choices. He's drawn to it, doesn't fear it, and won't allow himself to care about the punishments or consequences. But, we have a relationship. I'm hard on him, I refuse to let up on him, and he knows it. He knows it comes from my heart.
crazy boy - this is my ADD dancer. He HAS to move. I love him!!! He is a big ball of happy. He's on meds, and they help him. If he isn't on his meds, he wiggles and moves constantly. He even wiggles and wags his tongue! It cracks me up. He's a good student, and the meds help him to focus, but they don't fog him up. He loves life. His enthusiasm is contagious.
fairy/pixie girl - everyone should hear her say her Pledge of Allegiance in the morning. It is precious. She says it with a full, patriotic heart. Her eyes twinkle when she smiles.
over-indulged boy - There's always one. I understand the hole they're trying to fill in him... give him "things".. give him whatever he wants.. make him happy. His mom left when he was a toddler. He's loved by his grandparents. HUGELY loved. They just want to fill that sadness. A note to his mom..... "Do you have any idea what damage your selfishness has done?"
bossy boy - Soooooo smart!!! I love teaching this one. But, my oh my... he is one bossy guy!!! When I mentioned this to his mom and sisters during our conference (sisters were there to translate), they all burst into laughter! I wasn't telling them anything they didn't already know!! He is definitely a leader. I can't wait to see where this one goes and what he accomplishes.
And, the year winds down to a close. We've spent a school year together. We've grown in many ways. We've butted heads. We've laughed. We've danced and listened to music. We've learned. We've learned about one another. We've struggled. We gave each other the flu. We've had hurt feelings. Friends moved away. New friends moved in. Some friends moved and returned! School life is real life, concentrated within four walls.
One last note. This week I didn't wear a bra. I only wore camisoles with shelf bras in them. I've been much more relaxed, much more patient, and waaaaaay more comfortable. If they don't like a little jiggle, they can call me into the principal's office. Who knew that braless = happy teacher?!?! I'm going to share that at the lunch table tomorrow.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
30 years later
Today I returned to SCICON (Science and Conservation). It is Tulare County's Outdoor Ed. camp. I worked there for one school year.. 1980-81. My job was taking 6th graders on a bird watching hike. I was the bird teacher, which is ironic, because I have a bit of a bird phobia. I love watching and identifying birds in the outdoors. Get me indoors with birds and I freak.
I remember nature's idea of quiet: the sounds of birds, rustling wind, the rushing waters of the stream. I have aromamemory (I just invented that word. Good word, huh?). There are scents that change with the season. Scents that signal the time of day. I smelled them today. They are so fleeting, that as soon as the whiff catches your attention, it seems to evaporate away, and you're left trying to identify the source from memory.
Today I returned, after 30 years. It looked different. Ha, but then, so do I!
The cabins have had a lot of upgrades.
I could use some upgrades myself.
The program has been fine-tuned and polished.
I'd like to think I'm much more fine-tuned and polished than I was 30 years ago.
The lodge has been extended and is larger.
My butt seems to have been extended and is definitely larger.
The area has flourished, in spite of drought, changes in leadership, and harsh weather.
I believe I've flourished, in spite of obstacles and challenges.
As we got out on the trail, I started to feel the 30 year old essence of the area. I listened to the quiet sounds of nature. I smelled springtime. I was so lucky to have had the chance to work there. To be outside, surrounded by the serenity of natural beauty, each day. I don't remember ever feeling like it was too hot, too cold, too rainy, or too windy to go out on the trails. I had the opportunity, everyday, to teach children to observe, listen, watch, and expect miracles and beauty from nature.
We walked the trails, and I was happy to realize so much of that "naturalist" knowledge popped back into my head. I recognized a bay laurel tree, pulled off a leaf so I could have my friends smell the real source of the leaf that they purchase and throw into their stews. I pointed out the difference between wild blackberries and poison oak. I explained that acorn woodpeckers place acorns in holes as a lure to insects. As the acorn rots and bugs are attracted, the woodpeckers eat the bugs. It was all coming back to me. Random tidbits, making me a walking Trivial Pursuit game.
Unfortunately, there were too many people at this open day for exploring. So, the truest serenity was not to be had. On the trail, a couple of youths started to crowd us. I was feeling sort of boxed in by them, tailgaters. I wanted to pull over and let them pass. Then, when one of them turned on his iPod and I had to listen to Nickelback .... well, I wanted to short circuit! I got Stacy's attention, and directed her away from the trail for a closer look at one of the rocks in the stream. We let them pass us and go on their musical way, so we could proceed on our lovely walk. I don't have issue with Nickelback, but I DO have issue with listening to any iPod tunes while walking next to a babbling stream!
As we came to the end of the trail, this is the sign we all turned around to read. I guess we were leaving at the entrance of the trail. This made for a good laugh.
30 years later. Wow.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Portuguese Sweet Bread
I love the Easter holiday. When I was young, it meant a week in Monterey with my grandparents. My memories of Monterey are bright blue skies, the gorgeous bay visible from my Nana's backdoor, listening to the sound of sea lions barking, and calla lilies and poppies in her front garden. Each year, Nonnie baked these great Easter cookies. She mixed her own sugar cookie dough (this dough was unique, yellowish and slightly different from any sugar dough I've known since)and cut out heart-shaped cookies. Then, she'd hard boil and dye Easter eggs, which would be placed in the center of the cookie. Across the egg, she'd use her ravioli wheel and cut out strips of cookie dough, then create a cross across the egg, to hold it in place on the heart.
This cookie had a lot of symbolism for the Easter holiday.... the heart represented our love of Jesus, the cross - well, of course, the cross He died on, and the egg represented new life and Jesus rising from the dead.
No one in the family has ever baked these cookies. The tradition died with her. I don't think anyone in the family has the cookie dough recipe. Rumor has it that my cousin's sister-in-law sat, watched, and wrote down the recipe, and is holding the recipe hostage. She won't give it to my cousin!!
So, that was my Italian family memory of Easter. Sometime around the time I was 12 years old, our family switched, and we started having Easter in Lemoore. Equally wonderful memories, filled with spring skies, green grass, my mother's flower garden of irises, daffodils, and roses, and Easter brunch in our screen house.
We had a screened in "house" in our front yard. Basically, it was a huge rectangular slab of concrete, with screened in walls, a porch swing inside, electrical outlets, and picnic tables. My description might sound ghetto, but it was really fabulous. This is where we enjoyed our Easter brunch, with tables inside and outside, kids playing while adults could watch, and like any family gathering, delicious food.
This is where the tradition of Portuguese Sweet Bread comes in. The only parts of the meal I remember are scrambled eggs, fruit, linguica (Portuguese sausage) and sweet bread. Ahhhh, the sweet bread! My mom baked it the day before, and it was torturous to not be allowed to snack, nibble, and sneak the bread. Especially the dough as it was rising. Okay, I DID sneak it. Mom always freaked out because "There are raw eggs in that!!! You'll get sick!!!" The dough was sooo yummy, it was well worth taking my chances. And, by the way, I've never known of anyone to get sick from eating dough with eggs in it.
My nieces continue to bake this bread, and my son LOVES it. So, this year, I decided to dive in and try my hand at it. I was going to bake my own Portuguese Sweet Bread.
Truth... I have kitchen issues. I don't cook or bake very much, so I've not developed the "feel" that great cooks have. I have to follow the recipe, ask a lot of questions, and leave nothing to "Oh, you'll be able to tell." No, I won't be able to tell, so you must tell me!
So, I asked my nieces for their recipe. This recipe actually came from their grandmother (their dad's side), though I think my mother used it too.
Anne sent the recipe to me and wished me luck. Paula sent words of confidence and encouragement. Anne kept sending me extra tips... 6 eggs, placed in warm water, bring to room temperature. Use the wisk for beating, the paddle for mixing. The dough will be very pliable and stretchy.
I was getting nervous.
But, once I started, it felt really good to be baking real bread! Traditional. My kitchen was partaking in Easter and in family memories.
Then I came to the kneading. Confusion set it. How long do I knead the dough? My hit and miss baking background brought to mind the idea of OVER kneading and creating a tough dough. Yikes!! How long should I knead this dough?? Do I want to add air to it? Will that dry it out? If I knead it too long, will I kill the activated yeast? I decided to knead it for a short time. I later learned that this was a mistake. After consulting with my sweet bread experts, Anne and Paula, I learned that a minimum of 6 minutes kneading time is necessary--- not 90 seconds.
I kneaded the dough, and made my rolls. I watched them with a worrisome eye. They appeared to rise a little more, so I guess I didn't man-handle the yeast into submission.
It was time for baking. Next mistake. This was just dumb. I have an "easy convection" setting on my oven, but did I use it?? No. I set the oven on convection, but then I set the regular recipe temp and time. Duh!!! Convection baking needs to be set at a lower baking temperature, and it takes less baking time. I didn't make those adjustments.
I didn't burn the rolls, but they were more biscuity than rolly. Too crispy, crusty on the outside, though pretty good on the inside! When the rolls came out of the oven, I brushed all of them with more butter (the recipe calls for 2 cups of butter... see why these are SOOOO good??). After they cooled, I put them into zip lock storage bags. This was a good move. All that buttery, greasy moisture got locked in with the rolls, and softened them.
Not perfect, but still pretty tasty. My first attempt didn't destroy me. I'll do this again.
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