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Crows are thought to be messengers, tribal members, tricksters, and speakers.
Miles is all of these: bringing elements of deep, primitive love to me from the other side of the cosmos. He is my mirror and my challenge, my creation and my gift to you. May you see in him a twinkling glimpse of what I can see.
"...but it was my intuition, my sense of myself and my child, and my love that made me a good mother." --Mallika Chopra, 100 Promises to My Baby
From about four months to four years of age, children are wiring in competency. Through exploring their environment, they learn the valuable lesson of cause and effect, er, the natural consequences of their actions. Miles knows that when he presses the big red plastic button, a cow sound comes out or that dog hair is a tasty treat.
The more difficult experiences for a parent to patiently observe are the teetering falls, bumps to the head, and frustration that is created when he is trying hard to figure something out but it isn't happening.
When a baby is interrupted from doing something that a parent deems unsafe (or inconvenient?), he wires in that mommy must know that he isn't capable of doing that particular thing right. When mommy or daddy regularly pull baby back off of activities for whatever reason, he understands that what he wants to do isn't what he should be doing. His body begins to try to work for someone else's mind-no easy feat. (Have you ever tried to tailor your actions in order to get a favorable response from someone?)
This is a sensitive lesson that has caused us to put away everything that is unsafe for Miles so that we don't have to pull him away from anything at all. We want him to feel competent at everything he tries and accomplishes. There is a very wise woman who I will soon link to who has said that if you are afraid that your hardwood floors could be dangerous for your little one, MOVE.
As an adult, the person who was controlled or hovered about often has a fragmented way of going about tasks. Moving from A to B proves most difficult.
"Can't you see that you are very special just the way you are?" --The Tree, The Enchanted Tree.
No need to change a thing today...
Sitting in an incredible nature made sacred space dubbed "The Wigwam" today with my mountain women, we spoke of those who can't be reached: who build impenetrable walls of protection around to guard from the new hurts and cover the old wounds. My wise friend Stevie said that it comes down to baring our souls.
I felt that it forms a wonderful question, but perhaps only if you can answer yes. Thank you today for he or she who holds our hearts patiently in their hands while we perform this most human of vulnerabilities.
Can you bare your soul?
Pixie at Swirly's fanciful, perfect wedding, Aug 5 2006.
Ahhh, life at the Campbell Cottage is always interesting and almost always changing in some way. As Miles grows into a bigger boy each day, new challenges surface and old issues are forgotten. We no longer dread every car ride like we did six months ago. Now we dread naptime when he is so sleepy but can't surrender to the sandman. Which is what is happening today.
We have not been the scheduling kind of parents up until now, but we are finding that Miles is underrested and is telling us in ways only a baby can that we need to support him by enforcing new ideas. The last two days of reading his earliest nap cues and ushering him upstairs for a sweet ritual resulted in hour and a half long naps. It was so easy! Trying to get him to bed last night, however, was another story.
He protested in every way possible, all the while rubbing his eyes and yawning. Making happy energetic faces one moment, and glazed zombie ones the next. Singing, rocking, nursing, laying down with him, cozying him with his silkie blankie and bunny simply did not welcome rest.
Today's nap window is slipping away, and I don't care. My job is to be flexible, his emotional rock, and remain kind and calm. It is tempting to hand him to the neighbor and run screaming down the lane with my hands above my head at times.
Instead, we're sharing cheese crackers with Blue Girlie and watching her roll gratefully on her back all over the floor. And telling you all about it.
Miles has proven to love almond butter, and the celery stick is perfect for his tender molars. He teaches me so much about pure joy each day.
Yesterday was a bit traumatic for us-more for me. On my way to leave Miles with his beloved Gangie at the baby superstore, he cried and cried until he was snuffle-snorting sadly. Sometimes he just doesn't like being in the car for long periods. Then as I was snapping him into his shopping cart cushiony thingy, I caught a bit of his tender underarm flesh in it, pinching him. More crying, poor thing. At that point, I cancelled my doctor's appointment-I've waited three and a half years to have my sprained ankle x-rayed, it can wait another week...
A new toy, a scrumptious tortellini lunch with loved ones, and a 3D ultrasound moving picture show of Miles new cousin (who is due on Halloween) rounded out the afternoon, taking the edge off of the unforgiving beginning. Colorful plastic, four kinds of cheese and new life have a way of making everything seem okay.
I woke up with a horrible headache this morning. I'm certain it is born of thinking too much. Today I want to slow that down. The season is changing here, the August light shifting and becoming softer-my favorite time of year-my New Year.
Sending warm hugs to D who is sad today and C who will be so happy tomorrow.
Little man plays with his balls.
Today my mantra is simple: "Nothing must be done."
It's not easy, but it is simple.
What say you?
