Develop a passion for learning. If you do, you will never cease to grow.

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That deep emotional conviction of the presence of a superior reasoning power, which is revealed in the incomprehensible universe, forms my idea of God. Albert Einstein  

I'm absolutely loving parenting at the moment.  Sammy is as cute as can be - making us laugh every single day with the things he says, the cute looks he gives.  He's a joy. Honestly. It's all wonderful with Sam.

But it's Alexander who's blowing our minds right now. He's suddenly become even more of a sponge than before. He's on a learning bender, asking questions, researching answers with us, pushing himself harder and harder - and deciding what he wants to be when he grows up.  He has decided, quite firmly that he wants to be an astronomer.

He did a school project last year (they were allowed to pick any subject for their final presentation) and he chose Saturn.  He buried himself in learning about Saturn, and Galileo. He was fascinated.

This year, that interest has extended to learning everything he can about the universe - all of the planets, their moons, gas giants, black holes, stars, galaxies, scientists, constellations, whatever he can use. He's got posters of the Milky Way, our solar system, the Periodic Table. He's learning the speed of light, the different elements that go up into simple things (bearing in mind he's just turned 9).

I'm watching him and I'm in awe. I was always interested in space as a child (though not as much as I was interested in Reading, History and Biology) but I didn't really have that much opportunity to investigate it much further.  We didn't have computers or internet back then, my parents had 4 mouths to feed on one very modest wage, so there weren't opportunities to visit planetariums or the like.

But there is so much more available to our children than there was for us.  Any person who wishes, can research hours upon hours at a time on any subject they want.  Visits to libraries and book stores bring home bounties of treasure for an enquiring mind, and just the littlest bit of encouragement, and something wonderful blossoms before us.


I love watching his amazement. He takes nothing for granted. He is in awe of the universe - the sheer immensity of it, the rules that govern it, the wonder of its beauty. It hasn't damaged this little man's faith in God, rather deepening it, certain that such wondrous things have intelligent design. His little prayers are so beautiful to hear, so innocent and grateful.

He's not single minded by any means. He is fairly well rounded (well, for a Spectrum kid, anyway). He's trying to master poetry (writing it, that is. Something I was never able to do), wants to write (He's just shifted his focus slightly from writing all fiction, to also trying to write a 'biography' of Galileo and a book 'for kids' on different planets and celestial wonders (what boy can resist stories about Black Holes and discovery of new stars?).

He despises math with a passion. I don't blame him. It certainly wasn't a subject I enjoyed. But when I told him that if he wanted to be a scientist, if he wanted to learn more about astronomy, he was going to have to have a great grip on math, he stopped complaining about having to do it. He still struggles - math isn't easy for him. But when just weeks ago Math homework was producing tantrums and frustration, now I hear a steely determination. He knows that if he wants to pursue his goals, his education is going to have to be rounded.   I'm proud of him for that. We enjoy being able to spoil reward him for that. :)

I've never enjoyed parenting more than I am now. I'm in awe of the boy, of his love of learning. I'm proud and honoured to be a part of it.

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For those of you with over 4's

image

We didn't co-sleep with our babies. Pre-children, I had it in my head that people who co-slept were building a rod for their own backs. It was one of those "I'll never..."'s that we all make, unaware of what dicks we really are.  :)

I'd seen my sister do it with her eldest child. Not as a planned strategy, (I lived with her), but as an I'm-too-tired-to-put-her-back-to-bed-after-a-feed thing. She'd bring her into bed in the middle of the night, attach her to her breast, and fall back to sleep, not even waking when M finished the feed.

I didn't have an issue with that so much as the fact that it wasn't long before M couldn't go to sleep on her own. She would scream and T would leave her to cry-it-out and it was horrible (for everyone-M, T and us).  I remember thinking that if she'd just stuck to her guns and been consistent in the first place, it would not have been an issue.

I mentioned that this was pre-children, right? We probably all (or most) had a list of Pre Children "When-I-have-kids-I'll-never..." rules. I had a few, not as many as some. I was anti-co-sleeping. I was pro-smacking (in moderation. Hands only, never an object, which our generation and those before us got a lot of). I was anti-juice/cordial/softdrink EVER (still am and it's worked incredibly well for us).  I was  very much in the camp (like my mother) of my children will love me, but I'm not going to take any crap from them. They will learn to do what I say, when I say it.  And just like my mother, I'll be able to do it with the quirk of an eyebrow.

I do that eyebrow quirk well. It is effective. I just have not really been able to use it on my children.

When we had Alexander, we were still firmly in the 'no' camp for co-sleeping. It turned out to be more out of necessity than by design though. It turned out that I was unable (in my severe PND state) to sleep through baby noises. Every adorable (now) snuffle, snore, loud-breath and I was awake, literally in a state of panic.  It turns out there are only so many weeks that you can survive at that level of fight-or-flight before your mind starts to play some horrific tricks on you. Mine did and Joel had to take me back to hospital when I became suicidal and hallucinated.

When I came back home, we shifted the monitor to Joel's side of the bed, hoping it would help.  The Drs had insisted that they would only release me from the hospital if I agreed to give up breastfeeding (more about that soon, I do want to talk about it). So as we were using a bottle, it was not really a big deal if Joel took the monitor and was first to wake if Alexander did.

But at around the 11 week mark, we put him in his own room and for the first time (and every night thereafter for over a year), he slept through. I mean, right through. No night feeds. No dream feeds. He went down at 8ish and stayed down until 5.

By the time Sammy came along, I was 5 years into the parenting gig. I'd realised I was adamantly anti-smacking. I was still anti juice, cordial and soft drink. I was a far, far 'softer' parent than I had imagined myself to be. I was intuitive, more than anyone I know, with my parenting.

But still, the co-sleeping wasn't happening.  With my weight, and the drugs the Drs had put me on, I just didn't feel safe. And despite the drugs, I still couldn't sleep through baby noises. So Sammy, like his brother spent a few weeks in a bassinet in our room and then went to sleep on his own. No where near as good a sleeper as Alexander - quite atrocious, still to this day, but we can't win on the sleep front with both boys.

What is different though, is that at around 4, both of my boys decided that all they wanted was to sleep in bed with me. Despite never having had it as babies (so it not being something they somehow 'remembered'), they suddenly needed it.

I couldn't have imagined, when I wrote this post that Sam sleeping with me was soon to become a regular occurance.

The problem is, in Sam's case that it's lasting quite a while, and he now can't fall asleep any other way. Joel hates it.  He hates it because it's so easy with Samuel to get stuck in these patterns and then have hell getting out of them.  When Sam was a few months old and his reflux was so severe, we could only get him to sleep sitting almost upright in his pram. We'd wheel it around until he fell asleep, then transfer him to his bed. In weeks, he started waking when we transferred him and we'd have to start again. Then in a month or two, he could not sleep anywhere but his pram. No matter how many times we resettled, he was waking screaming every single time he woke up in his cot. And Sam woke a lot. Every 90 minutes between the ages of 4 months and 2 years.  That damned Pram issue lasted 8 months. It was horrible. We tried, constantly to break the habit but our lives were hell.

We're in a similar position now. It started a few months ago with just now and then me settling him in my bed and then transferring him to his room before he was asleep. Then he accidentally fell asleep (or quickly, IYKWIM) and then it was more and more often.

Now, there is no other way to get Sam to sleep.

And I know. People think that by his age, (he's 4 and a half) he ought to well and truly be in his own bed. And logically, I know it's true.  And Joel certainly. He hates that it causes me pain to have Sam in the position Sam wants to be in (Sam falls asleep with us on the side, facing each other. He likes to lie on one of my arms, and likes the other to be wrapped around him, rubbing his back or head). It kills my shoulder.

But here's the thing. I don't mind doing it. In fact, other than the shoulder pain, I love doing it.  I love that time with Sam. I love that he is so attached to me at the moment.  I love that he's definitely a Mama's boy, shadowing my every move. And I love that when he's with me like that, I can feel how fast his body relaxes.  He sighs, tells me he loves me and that I'm "so bootiful, Mama. You're the best. I yove this family. You make me so happy" every.single.time.

I love the chats we hve for the first couple of minutes, as he winds down. I love the way he rubs my arm as he sleepily tells me he loves me.  I love letting my breathing match his and I almost fall asleep. Could in fact, fall asleep if he stayed a little longer.

Instead, Joel comes to take him back to bed, and I'm awake right away.  And Sam wakes up several times a night and inevitably, in a sleepy haze comes to our room and says "I just want Mummy". Cue irritated Joel who doesn't do well with interrupted sleep. I'm happy for him to crawl in with me, but because I know it bothers Joel, and feel that Joel should get a say when he's trying to sleep, I back him up and we try to resettle Sam in bed. He resettles ok, but still wakes every couple of hours.

Recently it came to a head, and Joel said Sam needed to learn to sleep in his own bed, or we'd be here in a year, still having to put him down in our bed. He has a point. It hurts my shoulder enough that I'm not able to carry him back to his room. Joel has to do it.  Sam is in the top bunk (looong story), so Joel has to carry a heavy 4 year old and lift him above his head to get him in. And I can only keep him with me so long, with the shoulder pain - so all night isn't an option. And as much as I love settling him at night and having him fall asleep so blissed out, I do feel strongly about it being our bed. Joel's and mine. Our sanctuary. I don't want to move him into our room full time. I want it to be our place.

So the 20 minutes it takes to have him asleep, to me is worth it. Every ache, every pain is worth how happy he is when he falls asleep.  I've always had a rule with the boys - it is utterly imperative that they go to sleep happy. There is no sadness or crossness at bed time. I can't bear to have children go to sleep crying, or sad, or feeling that it was a bad day. There's nothing I won't do to jolly them into a good mood at bed time. There must be laughs, hugs and kisses and affirming words. It's our ritual.

So a couple of weeks ago, when Joel insisted Sam stay in his own bed - it was horrible. My little man sobbed himself to sleep. I cried in our room. Alexander was upset that Sam was upset. I was angry at Joel.  Joel was defensive and annoyed with me for being upset with him.  You get the drift. Sam fell asleep late, and I didn't settle down (stop being mad) until 2.

I understand where he was coming from.  And I understand that most people will agree with him, and think that it's time I backed off and the boys learned to suck it up and face sad nights.  And while intellectually I realise it might be true....my instincts fight it.

See, I didn't have the overpowering, gut punching adoration for the boys that I develop once they hit about 2. I'm not a fan of babies. But something in me clicks when they hit that age. It clicks for them as well.  And we spend the next several years utterly besotted with each other. This isn't to say that I didn't love and adore them as babies. I did.  But for me, there is a whole other level as they get older. 2-6 is sublime, to me.

I honestly don't know how to describe the depth of love I feel when he's snuggled up to me, falling asleep. Am I overdoing it because he is my last? When he wants to be in his bed, I have no issue. I'm not sad at it, or wishing he was back with me.  I want basically whatever makes him happy. I feel the strongest sense of wellbeing when my boys (both very comfortable expressing emotion to Joel and I) tell us how happy they are, how much they love us.  I have the worst, sickest feeling in my stomach when I fight those instincts to make them conform to what they 'should' be doing (e.g -sleeping alone, not hugging or holding hands in public, moving them on to 'older' toys/tv shows before they are ready to). So generally, I don't.  I let them develop, emotionally at their own pace.  But I know that some feel (and have told me) that I will turn them into sooks or make their lives harder later. An I?

Is it really that bad, 2 chronic insomniacs drifting off to sleep together? Is this better than him crying, making excuses to get up, or begging me to let him be with me? Is making him 'grow up' and be independant worth him honestly not understanding why he's being forcibly kept away from his favourite person in the world?

So who's right?  Can we both be right? What's the middle ground? Did you face this issue with your children?  At what age did you stop letting the children sleep in your bed with you? Did they just naturally grow out of it (Alexander did), or did you have to 'push' a little?

Do you think 4 is too old to be snuggling in with Mama? Can little boys be too close to their mothers? (Genuine question).  Should I be discouraging it? Really curious to hear other people's opinions and experiences.

Imagery

Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragrant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments. - Jack Kerouac, On The Road

Seriously loving this book right now. Not that much time to read last week, both boys sick with tonsilitis and Sammy has a chest infection.  But I'm loving this book.

Before I started, I was listening to audio of Kerouac reading other works of his.  I have his voice in my head. I love it there.

Arabesque

ar·a·besque  

n.

1. A ballet position in which the dancer bends forward while standing on one straight leg with the arm extended forward and the other arm and leg extended backward.

2. A complex, ornate design of intertwined floral, foliate, and geometric figures.

3. Music An ornate, whimsical composition especially for piano.

4. An intricate or elaborate pattern or design: "the fluctuating shapes of a cloudscape, the complex arabesque of a camera movement, the blink of a character's eye" (Nigel Andrews).

I don't know what it is, but I was sitting here tonight, feeling lighter than I've felt in months. Joel's asleep next to me, the house is silent. All I can hear is the whirling blades of the fan and the hum of the air conditioner. My fingers dancing over the keys now as I write. 


I am in pain, of course. But my heart, for the last hours is lighter, my thoughts are lighter. I'm relaxed, as relaxed as I can be, at least. Today, I've been watching my new favourite TV show, reading Kerouac & Anne Shirley {an odd combination, if there ever was one}, and listening to Debussy and George Shearling, Dizzie Gillespie and Miles Davis, simply going wherever the mood has taken me. 


And for some reason, the word arabesque popped into my head. I don't know why. I wasn't reading it, I hadn't seen it anywhere recently, but I couldn't get it out of my head.  Do you ever get that? A word, one you love that just comes into your consciousness and stays awhile? I've always loved it; arabesque. I love the way it sounds, almost melodic I say it aloud, feeling it out with my tongue and lips ~ almost pretty enough to be a name. 

I love the images it evokes. The swirling patterns, the curves and flourishes, soft and romantic. The symmetry while appearing whimsical and carefree. I miss feeling that way. 

    

I love how the images in my mind transfer themselves so beautifully into Debussy's  Deux arabesques.


The first is my favourite..

Do you have words you love? What are they?

I don't know how I'm going to go, slipping back into blogging again. For now, it's just going to be for me, free writing, I guess. No rules, no schedule. Perhaps not even a purpose. Whatever gets me writing again though.  

It only took me 15 years....

I have a confession. Anyone who has been reading my blog for....oh, any longer than the latest 2-month-long-writers'-block, will know I'm an avid reader. I love books. Reading is undoubtedly my biggest hobby. I love to read. I loved it as a little girl.  I loved it as a teenager, though in the little town I lived in, access to decent reading material was so scarce it'd shock you.  I lost my way there for a while, more interested in being married, grieving a loss, and caring for my mother.  But in the past 10 years, my passion for the written word has returned, with a vengeance.

And I'm not gonna lie. I'm a snob. Pfft. I said it. Before my siblings beat you to it. :)  I have rules about what I read.  I can read anything I want.  But for every 'trash' or fluff book I read, I have to read something 'decent'. A classic. A piece of literature on one of those "Books you should read before you die" list (the lists all vary somewhat, but basically most of them include many of the same books).

I don't know why I care so much. I don't know why I impose stupid rules upon myself.  I do know, though, that I look at those lists, and though no one will ever see it but me, no one will ever know it but me, I feel an intense satisfaction as I tick books off. Books read by far greater minds than I. The books you dream of one day writing, though that dream is barely a flicker anymore.

So, today almost 15 years after first wanting to read it I'm finally getting down to one of them.  And I'll be honest.  There's been a LOT of back story research first.  I hate knowing a book is referring to other real people, but not knowing who is behind every pseudonym.  So I've read and read lots of articles and reviews about the book first.  It's like high school.  All of that research to read a book!  I know to many that will look like a way to ruin a perfectly good book. But I'll be honest.  It just makes me enjoy the process more. I just love knowing what was going on in the writer's life when he or she wrote the book, who influenced him, who she was married to, where she was living, how long it took him to read it.

There are half a dozen books on almost every Top 100 list that I'm genuinely embarrassed not to have read yet. I haven't read the Sound and the Fury, I haven't read Proust, I haven't read all of War and Peace (despite 3 attempts, all in high school). I haven't read Don Quixote or anything by C.S Lewis(!). That one bugs me. Obviously there are many more I haven't read. But those, and this one are the ones most pressing to me for this year.

I've been fascinated reading up on Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady and Alan Ginsberg. Obviously they were well before my time, so my understanding of the intricacies of the time needed a bit of research for me. It's been a lot of fun learning about them, and those they associated with - the works of all of them (am fascinated with "Howl" as well).  I know a bit of the history of the time, the politics..what was going on in the world.  But it makes for a far richer tapestry to also place these amazing works of art (well so far...I haven't read this book yet) in their respective places of the time.

So.  I'll be immersed back in the late 40s and the 50s for a while. See you on the flip side. :)

Took me long enough..

Ok. There's a post finally up on the other blog.  For those that haven't emailed me, but still want to read, shoot me a message at melissa.mitchell@live.com.au and I'll send an invitation.

It's scary. Being this honest about my body and how I'm feeling at the moment. But it's got to help, right?

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Where to do this?

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Sorry, it's been a few days since I promised to come back and update.  I have had a migraine since Wednesday night and I can't shake it.

I was thinking long and hard about whether or not it was time to shut down this blog. Too much of my life, sadly at the moment, is about my health, or lack thereof.  Too much woe-is-me, sadness and pain. And I'm not sure that everyone (or anyone) wants to read that. And I'm embarrassed, dumping that on everyone at the moment.

There are other sides to me, but it's hard at the moment to see past it. When I write about other things, I feel fake, as though I'm pretending the big elephant in the room isn't me there. But then I don't write anything at all, because surely everyone' had enough.

So. Here's what I'm thinking.  I have another blog. I used it a couple of years ago, before I got this sick, to talk about my weight loss and trying to get healthy again.  As that is what I am focusing on right now, I'm thinking of taking my health related musings over there.

It's a private blog, invitation only.  If this is something you're interested in reading, or keeping up with, send me an email to melissa.mitchell@live.com.au and I will shoot you an invitation. If you're related to me, don't bother. Sorry. Too personal. Too judgemental.

Over at the other blog Taking Back Control, I will be able to fill you in on The Big Plan™ and my journey towards good health. It has sat untouched for a couple of years, unfortunately. But I think it might be good to have a safe place to get back into it.

Let me know if you're interested. And no offence taken if you're not. I completely understand that it gets more than a little wearisome.

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But for me, I know I want to write again. I want to talk about controversy and things that are meaningful. I want to be free to post music and pictures, tell you about the books I'm reading and the poetry I'm discovering.  I want this to be my happy place again, honest still, but about more than pain and hurt.

There will still be pain and hurt.  No matter how healthy I become, I won't necessarily find myself without Bipolar, or anxiety, or maybe even (but please, please, please) agoraphobia. But I'll try to at least give the physical stuff it's own safe place. And turn this one back into my creative outlet. Beautiful and meaningful and personal again.

It's slightly embarrassing to restart the other blog. I was about to actually close it, delete it when it occurred to me that I really ought to use it again. So you'll see when you get there (I don't know if I will get much time to go there this weekend) that the last post was 2 years ago.  I admit it. I got slack and I was wrong about the things I said in there.  But I don't care.  I have decided not to let shame and fear of failure stop me from trying again.

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