Bubbles in the breeze

Speaking of "moments that go right," Grace and I spent 20 minutes the other day chasing bubbles in our backyard. It can actually be quite good exercise when there is a breeze. While enjoying this child-like moment, I also sensed that this game involved a lot of frustration, since upon catching a bubble, we would pop it. We were trying to capture something that was only beautiful if we left it alone. But then leaving it alone meant letting it float away, irretrievably. What a conundrum for myself and almost-2-year-old Grace.

This makes me think of why people are recording their intimate or not-so-intimate thoughts online in these blogs. What's the deal with public journaling, anyway? I came home last night from errand-running and my husband had already read my blog. Day one, already public. That is the point, isn't it? Because we all know how to march ourselves down to the nearest Toys R Us and buy a diary that locks. We can hide the key in our underwear drawer with our favorite garbage pail kids cards (the Pokemon cards of Gen Xers).

Perhaps the masses think that something about their private life is inherently interesting to strangers. Perhaps we all secretly want the people in our lives to read blogs about them so that they can be alternately flattered and pissed. Perhaps we just want to start recording the moments that matter before they flitter away from our memory like bubbles in the breeze.

Aware Now

The stage lights have been brought down in my brain by the receding post-partum hormone levels, and I feel like I am the one who just was born. Born into full motherhood, born into loving that motherhood, born into dwelling in a place of peace with it all. True, you say, I've been a mother for 22 months and 4 days now, but I am only recently a mother of two (2 months exactly) and this is just....well, different. Since dd#2 was born, I feel like there have been these glaring lights on me and my kids, the kind that illuminate you to others but make it hard for you to see anything clearly yourself. But things changed this week due to my realization that I am dependent on alcohol.

Yes, I am a nursing mom; no, I am not an alcoholic or a crazed/unhappy/middle-aged desperate housewife. It's only 2 drinks a night, but I rely on them as though my life depended on it. I actually called my husband, who was at the store, to tell him to pick up wine or beer or something, when we actually had plenty in the house. I was afraid of getting through dinner and the rest of the evening without a drink or two.

So I realized all of this about a week ago but did nothing about it. Continued life as normal. But it struck me earlier this week that my reason for needing the drink(s) was that my life was stressful. Well, this is true; it is. Because I let it be. You know how you have days where all these little things go wrong and one more thing happens and you start yelling or crying? Motherhood was feeling like that every single day to me. But then I awoke one morning and realized that my response to all the moments that go right needs to be at least as strong as my response to the moments that go wrong.

Moments that go wrong =

• Losing my keys for the 3rd time in a day
• Natalie crying in the car
• Grace crying just because Natalie is crying
• Forgetting to reload the diaper bag
• Grace dumping her snack all over the park
• Natalie not sleeping

Moments that go right =

• Grace climbing to the top of a ladder, turning around, and shouting, "I did it, Mama!"
• A parking spot opening right in front of the center where La Leche is meeting
• La Leche League in general
• Natalie lying in bed next to me, and smiling at me after nursing
• Coming upstairs and seeing Natalie asleep cuddled next to a sleeping Scott
• Both girls sleeping long enough for me to start blogging

So my new goal is to become addicted to seeing and pointing out the moments that go right. This should ward off any other unhealthy addictions that were brewing. I am aware now.