Have I told you about this book I'm reading entitled "Buddhism for Mothers"? 'Cause oh mother do I need some Zen. All day today I kept noticing how tense I am - a constant state of tension - in mind and body. When I'm at my desk at work I'm hunched over and my brow is furrowed. When I'm in the car my hands tightly grip the steering wheel and my neck is tight. When I'm holding 'Rad while feeding him my shoulders are pulled up to my neck and I'm holding him like I'm trying to fit him into a box. Is motherhood a constant state of tension, or am I just in a constant state of "me?"
My mind has decided to take itself on unannounced walks lately, the results of which are nerve-wracking daydreams about getting fired, getting demoted or passed up for a promotion, 'Rad not growing up well, being a bad parent but realizing it when it's too late, and whatever other thought that might strike fear into your heart. I keep dropping the leash and that damn brain of mind decides to go where ever it pleases. It may sound hokey, but the book said that an easy way to meditate is to focus on the most basic aspect of what you're doing at any given moment: I'm typing. I'm typing. I'm typing. Strangely enough, as simple a concept as that seems it really difficult to bring my mind to that level. It seems an impossible feat to bring my thinking to one of simple statements, to keep it from jumping off of a cliff and pulling all the sane, crazy, or middling thoughts with it - whatever it can grab a hold of before plunging into the abyss.
Coming home and hanging with 'Rad and Blue help pull my mind out of its ass although there are still those "I just want to sleep and woe is me" moments in the company of the small and the furry. All 'Rad wants is attention and love. All Blue wants is attention and love. When I try to give the former what he needs, the latter has been getting jealous lately. Not the I'm-going-to-scratch-your-soft-little-head-again-if-you-get-in-my-way kind of jealous, but the I'm-going-to-squeeze-you-out-of-mom's-lap-and-put-myself-in-your-place way. When I was washing bottles tonight, Blue hung in the kitchen in full stalker pose: standing stiff, head down, eyes lifted and staring at me unblinkingly. It was as if he were thinking, "If I don't get more attention you're going to get a pillow over the face tonight." For having such an endearing face, Blue can be quite creepy and a real jerks sometimes.
Tonight my boy downed 7 oz of milk. Gulp. Done. Barely messed with the bottle, barely came up for air. He gripped that bottle with both mitts, a little fleshy vice made of chubby hands. Oh how exquisite it will be when I can give him the bottle and trust him to feed himself. Yes, I'm wishing independence on my 5-month old. I love him and all, but sometimes mama's just got to change the channel when Two and Half Men comes on.
Speaking of feeding, we're still working out the kinks with solid foods. Sunday by far was the most successful day, and this morning he barely opened his mouth when the spoon came at him. He even gave me looks of disbelief when I dared to sneak food into his mouth as he opened it to chomp on the bowl or babble. Crossed all lines of social propriety with that move.
In more exciting news (no, I'm not going to talk about his poops or burps), his little toes can touch the ground when he's in his bouncy play palace now! This morning, as Z and I sat at the coffee table eating breakfast, 'Rad was bouncing his little heart out and look at us with a "Yeah, this is happening" look on his face. That kid is so cool, it scares me. I'll be the Dungeons and Dragons mother (it's a metaphor - I've never actually played Dungeons or Dragons) to his rock-and-roll childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. As long as he isn't into Avril Lavigne or Ke$ha, I'm ok with that.