On Becoming Mom

What I haven’t mentioned thus far about being Sam’s mom is the anxiety. I don’t mean panic attack anxiety; I mean a kind of anxiety that keeps things a little surreal. I don’t know if my anxiety stemmed from the years (and years) of waiting to have a child or from the miscarriages and infertility treatments or from a life long battle with anxiety. But often in the last year and a half, I seemed to be stuck in a fusion of anxiety and awe.

 

The only experience I can relate it to is the time when Phyllis led me up this mountain side. I had quit smoking and she wanted to show me that now I could go where the cigarettes had kept me from going before. While I appreciated it, my lungs didn’t. By the time we arrived at the meadow, I was out of breath. The view was worth it. It was awesome and the light headedness contributed to the wonder.

 

That’s sort of what it has been like with Sam—wonder and awe and a fear that I’d never again catch my breath. That’s how it was until last week.

 

At a garage sale, I picked up a toy tool set. Sam has been very feisty lately; full of his own bad self and his impulses to hit and kick so maybe the hammer wasn’t the best choice. Sure enough when I wasn’t looking he hammered my shin. Wow, it stung. The kind of hurt that makes a mother forget Dr. Sears and Dr. Spock and every other baby doctor. Enough sting to trigger an impulse to swat. But I didn’t. Thankfully. Instead for the first time since his birth, my breath caught. For the first time, I got off that top of the world feeling. I wasn’t in awe of this little wonder of mine rather fully present and bruised.  

 

With one swing to my shin bone, Sam seemed to say, “Aw Mom, SNAP OUT OF IT.”

 

And so I did. And with it came that visceral rush of love that sometimes awe and anxiety can keep at bay…not at that exact moment but later after I stopped limping.

 

Right then, I thought, “I’ve got to teach this little pisser not to hammer me.”

 

There are two more new entries so scroll on down.

Sam's Peops: A Few First Timers

There are some key peops in Sam’s life who have not appeared on the blog (and some of those still aren’t—hopefully a trip to the west coast will somewhat help with that). But this entry includes some of Sam’s favs—Great-Uncle Billy, our Starbucks buddy Mary, and Ava.

 

Ava is Sam’s first friend—they’ve attended music class, concerts, farmers markets, etc. If this is starting to read like a personal ad—SWM dates SWF that’s because their relationship has been prearranged (or was that preordained). If you notice behind Sam and Ava are two looming presences—the Grandmothers/Chaperones. Please don’t let me give you the wrong idea, I don’t think my mom and Nancy (Ava’s Grandma) have been conspiring: I’m not suggesting, they might have met with Cam Miller (the officiant at both Ava’s and Sam’s parents’ respective weddings) to perform some sort of joining ritual; nor would I want anyone to think, Mom and Nancy are staging a revival of “Matchmaker” although I have heard Mom humming, "Matchmaker Matchmaker make me a match”. And it has been noted that Ava is older than Sam which is the way of both sets of their parents.

 

What I am saying is--they are friends and very sweet together. Last week Sam pushed Ava in her stoller around the Bidwell’s Farmer’s Market. That’s all I’m saying.

The Back of Sam

I decided to do a back of Sam series.  Now that he’s sure (or rather surer) on his feet, he’s a man on the move. This is the view I see most. He runs runs runs away and into everything.

 

For my 32nd birthday, my hubby took me (and Sam) to Palmyra, NY (where Joseph Smith founded Mormonism) to find us a sister/wifeJ. Actually, I’m interested in the American West and that means knowing about the Mormons (so no Sister/Wives and I'm a wee bit older than 32). We went to the grove where Joseph Smith encountered Jesus and God. The Mormons consider this spot the 2nd most holy place (note to self—what is the first most holy place?). We decided to go on Sunday because we thought the Mormons would be in church. Fairly far into our walk through the grove, we spotted teen-agers tucked into the woods. Dressed in their Sunday best, they sat on benches and blankets, writing letters, praying, and crying. (I think) they were missionaries about to embark on their missions, writing goodbyes to their families, and seeking a revelation in the same grove where Joesph Smith saw his. It was like being on a Mormon Safari. Sam was enthralled and started running up to them, yelling “Hi Ya, Hi Ya, Hi Ya.”

 

So, where in the What to Expect books, do they make suggestions on how to teach your child that while s/he might be mommy and daddy’s little revelation, s/he isn’t anyone else’s personal revelation? The Mormons kids were ever so polite and gracious (of course), but unfortunately didn’t break out into a chorus of I’m a little bit country/I’m a little bit Rock n’ Roll (and now I'm revealing the real reason for my fascination with the Mormons).