Topsy Tuesday

Sleep deprivation from (not) sleeping with and tending to my sick Ol for the past three nights is starting to wear on me. He didn't go to school yesterday, and I knew as soon as I woke up this morning, his sweaty little head in the crook of my right shoulder, that he'd stay home again today. 

Ol is the sweetest, easiest sick kid there is, but I am not as young as I once was and I also have nothing left in the way of post-pregnancy or nursing hormones. Swear to god, those things are tricksters of the best sort. I used to get up and rock and nurse my boys with a smile on my face. It was the loveliest, quietest time although admittedly, I often felt on another planet. (And surely not every feeding session was so welcome or magnificent; mastitis anyone?)

Once, so out of it at my parents' house after waking to feed Ol for the umpteenth time, I remember passing my mother in the hall (she is a night owl of extreme degree). I was weaving a bit, but her odd expression wasn't about that. No, it was because my left breast was hanging out of my nightgown. I guess I'd forgotten to tuck it away. 

Whatever. Point is, I'm not there anymore, in any way, and these sleepless nights are exhausting.

Fortunately, Tom made me coffee this morning with a fetching fig design on top. It helped. I took Mr. J to school, took Ol to the doctor and then watched as he took to the table with a box of kleenex and the iPad. 

He watched more episodes of Oggy and the Cockroaches than I care to admit (though it is an amusing and largely wordless show), but the child could hardly lift an ice cream sandwich to his lips, so I just let him go. I made jam and tidied up and wrote for class.

Especially because I'm tired, it has been tough to negotiate my dismay and frustration over not having had these past two mornings nor, in all likelihood, tomorrow's. I've canceled at least five appointments in the past two days and spent almost none of the time in class that I'd relished last week or committed to for this one.  I have, actually, had an excellent time with Oliver, and I love caring for such a sweet and funny soul, but...

Ah, motherhood. Look, it even makes Nutmeg pooped.

That cat is out! 

Jack and his wild creativity (and terrific nerdtastic'ness!) did provide me a hearty belly-laugh tonight.

"Look, Mom! It's an Imperial Pi Fighter!" #starwarsandnerdhumor

Imperial Pi (vs. TIE) Fighter

I laughed so hard I almost burped. Swear! I'm going to sleep now. 

May the 4th Be With You: 5 wise things from Star Wars

This May the 4th finds me at home with a sick Oliver. Incidentally, he is also one of the biggest Star Wars fans in the world, so we are celebrating with Star Wars vehicle cookies, Darth Mault shakes (vanilla ice cream blended with malted milk balls) and a marathon movie fest that commenced with A New Hope.

It's been a long since I've actually sat down to watch these films. The boys watch them so often that they're like an omnipresent background noise; always on and yet unnoticeable. But in sitting here, I'm really quite transfixed. Kitschy though it is at times, there is much wisdom in this epic.

Five Bits of Wisdom From Star Wars

Firstly, the gender equality is terrific. Princess Leia is so strong and confident; her voice is her own, assertively and still femininely so. In the later films (earlier episodes), Padmé Amidala serves as both Queen and, later, Senator of Naboo. Zam Wesell is a bounty hunter. 
There aren't a ton of female characters, but those there are aren't damsels in distress or wall-flowers. They are strong and fiery.

Secondly, the diversity and tolerance in Star Wars is fantastic. Just look around the cantina on Tatooine. Or at the Jedi council. Seriously, just do that. Droids, aliens, snout-nosed people, beings that look like they have asses on their chins, men and women of color, wookies...What matters is loyalty and courage and whether or not you want to fight for what's right. Just look at the way Chewy lovingly repairs C3P0 after he gets blasted in The Empire Strikes Back. C3P0, whose voice and affect remind me SO much of the Dowager Countess (Downton Abbey), can be god-awfully annoying, but Chewy just sits there and works him back to wired health.

Millenium Falcon-shaped cat

Thirdly, and Oliver brought this point up, the basic messages such as "Trust your feelings" and "size matters not" are right and meaningful. Our feelings, our inner voices, the light within...any way you want to spin what it is to listen to our selves, it's a wise thing to do. And something that, for many of us, gets harder with age.
Work against that temptation we should; listen to ourselves we must.

Fourth, the emphasis on the value in taking the tougher path and spending time to learn something well is a critical reminder in this day and age of immediacy in both input and response. Mastery takes time as does getting to know people well. Both are worth it, but you must invest in the process.

Lastly, while I think it's so important to feel and honor our feelings of frustration and anger, just look what happened to Anakin Skywalker when he let his hatred and rage overtake him. He got all burned up on Mustafar and had to become Darth Vader to survive. He was powerful, yes, but he couldn't take his helmet off and he died a regretful man.

Star Wars is part of the classic film canon, and the more I re-watch them, the happier I am that my boys are obsessive devotees. If you haven't already, consider letting your kids watch the series, at least the original three. And if you've not watched these recently, give them another whirl.

May the Force be with you! Today and always!

Not perfect, but whole

I'm not even going to delve into the matter of today being May 1 and I'm in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. That seems as wrong as the fact that there are only five weeks of school left. 

It really does take my breath away that summer break is nigh. Didn't my baby just start kindergarten? And soon my big boy will enter 4th grade and approach a double-digit age?

I chose not to think of those things this week, although they flitted through my attention when my eyes wandered to my calendar and reminders for camp payments rolled in. Instead I focused on being present with myself and those around me; my boys and friends, classmates and pets. 

Recently, I spoke to a very neat woman, wise and kind. She radiated serenity, a quality in others I am always drawn to like a moth to the brightest light. I want to know that secret, I want to understand the peace in this woman's face. So I talked to her for as long as she let me.

She told me about the importance of knowing ourselves deeply. That knowledge, and the acceptance of it, pads our hearts and souls. It nourishes us and is also protective, especially in our relationships with others both known and not. 

"When we know ourselves, Emily, we cannot be manipulated, for we are already whole. We don't have to spend energy defending ourselves against unknowns [unknown attacks], because we are already aware of our attributes."

Our conversation reminded me of an Adult Development class I took in grad school. Drawing on psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg's six stages of moral development, our professor, Robert Kegan, argued that the highest stage of adult development was at the point an individual could see him/herself as the subject and any given other as the object. Intimacy and deep connection are infinitely possible, but the Self is not enmeshed with the Other.

Put differently, the Self's identity is not dependent on the relationship with the Other. Rather the Self as an independent entity can approach and relate to and with another without worry that the Self will be lost or subsumed. 

The point is this: it is wise to make all effort to truly understand the essence of who we are. Then, faults can be addressed and worked on, strengths can be honed, real acceptance can be found. In the process, an authentic sense of self emerges and can be carried into relationships.

I think it's those sorts of selves that I find so appealing. People who recognize what is awesome about themselves and what is less optimal and who embrace it all in an accepting hug. They work to be just who they are but in a responsible way, fine-tuning internally as they go.

They are not perfect, but they're whole. And outwards from that core radiates pure light.

This week, I wrote a lot. I spent hours on the couch. I felt utterly alive and yet lazy too, as if this life of fitting words this way and that were but a puzzle of leisure I've not earned. And yet, something is different, and I wonder if it's growth. The very sort that might just radiate light.