Our hands are flowers
Hello there I’ve just come in out of the rain, the incessant rain. It has been dark for a few hours, but I wanted to take advantage of the wet ground and weed a garden. A garden outside your bedroom window is one you want relatively pleasant-looking. Nonetheless, it took me months to feel the obligation. Matt doesn’t usually make any suggestions on garden work, but this one he did. That didn’t push me enough. It wasn’t until I went to pick some thyme and it was almost dead, having been crowded out by weeds. It’s always peaceful gardening in the dark night, knowing the only thing that will force me to stop is fatigue (or a crying baby). A hot bath after wet gardening is also high on the list of peaceful evening activities. Now with my cup of hot chocolate and a few jars of different dried fruits and nuts surrounding me, I am here to enjoy my weekly date with you all (and the computer). Ahhh…evenings and silence are both so wonderful.
Day time is lovely too, but more exhausting both mentally and physically. Giving love, attention, and care to two sweet little need machines ends up taking about thirteen hours of the day. It seems funny to count the hours. Honestly I hadn’t done it before tonight, but I’ve been contemplating the reason for my inability to focus on anything lately. We had friends over the other night and I heard bits of so many interesting conversations. Five years ago, I’d have excitedly participated. I listened while doing the dishes, ran off to play hide and seek with the children, change Genevieve’s nappy, set up dinner, check on the children. It’s not as if the other adults were sitting around being waited on, they all helped in some way. It’s not a case of poor me doing all the work.
Being the mother/parent at home, I hold the girls’ strings together. I know everything (well, almost) they have said, done, worn, eaten, drank, and played each day. Thus I know (or think I know) what they need. I know about the little fights that Jacinta and Lilly have had and why Jacinta is starting to hit people. I know if Jacinta is feeling particularly threatened or jealous of Evie, or perhaps if she is having a proud day for achieving something new on her own. I know how many times Genevieve has fallen off her chair and how hard she fought fatigue throughout the day. Perhaps it is the burden and joy of all this “knowledge,” combined with my will to carve out a compassionate, comfortable, respectful existence for the girls that keeps me from focusing on one task. I have become a terrible listener. Being a born pleaser, I am busy trying to sense out the girls’ physical and emotional needs and fulfil them before they get hurt. Someone may be speaking to me, but if I sense any form of dis-ease I tune out and analyse the girls’ problems. Being a strong believer in food as medicine, I am often concocting something to lift their spirits and boost their immune system. Missing my faraway loved ones, I am often talking on the phone. Then there is cleaning, which is not a major priority but must be done or we will injure ourselves. Being a control freak, I waste a lot of unnecessary energy. Having moved across the oceans to live on the land, I try to fit in some garden time whenever possible. Being a teacher, I am constantly trying to make everything a teachable moment. Sometimes I wish I could just let down my hair and be their friend, have fun and forget about the potential consequences of letting a few bad behaviours slip by unnoticed. Alas, with all of these things to do and be, I find it hard to stay on task. But hey, I eventually get things done, in a long, meandering, sort of a way.
The chicken pen: this a good example of a long meandering, never-ending project. We have been working on it in dribs and drabs for about five months. Last Tuesday Keith and I did a little work, with Genevieve’s help. Wednesday I worked on the framing all by myself, but couldn’t do much. So another week goes by and we are seemingly no closer to eggs. The three roosters and three bantam hens have become good wild chickens and live in the trees now. The one little chick was picked off by a kookaburra (we think) this week, sad. Jacinta said, “Mommy, I hope the chick is just hiding under the house somewhere.” Me too. She woke up crying that night, having a nightmare about the chickens. She gave no details, just sobbed for a while and ended up taking Matt’s place in our bed. A little hen left us a tiny egg on the veranda, the first egg in months. There’s a good sign.
Jacinta is three years old, almost four, growing into her own little person. She seems anxious, sad, and lost more than I expected her to be. I can’t remember being three, but I imagine childhood as carefree playtime. Since guilt and blame are a major part of me (one I am trying to change), I always wonder if this is something I have done, something common in the eldest child or if it just came with her soul. She makes a big deal about every tiny bump, scrape, or collision but won’t “allow” us to touch or even look at the supposed injury. She’ll cry and sometimes be angry until she finds something to divert her attention. An angry toned, “Oww!” is an expression that Genevieve has heard so much, she now says it too. Evie is learning quickly how to get a reaction from Jacinta, annoying her of course, sometimes just trying to make her say, “Oww!” It sounds terrible but I’ve had to tell Jacinta the story of the boy who cried wolf a few times. Don’t worry, the boy in my story doesn’t get devoured by the wolf. I remember cry babies at school, and how much the children mocked them. Perhaps this is one of my major goals as a socially obsessed mother, preparing her for her peers. Her friends are already tapping into the fun of getting a rise out of Jacinta. Oh la la, it is all beginning.
Jacinta has a lot of anxiety-free, happy hours too. Watching her play with Lilly when they are not fighting is good fun. They come up with intricate imaginative games. The other day I found them in Genevieve’s crib with stuffed animals strewn about. Upon entry into the room, Jacinta informed me, “Mom? Lilly and I don’t mind if the fox cubs poo down our shirts.” Well, that explains everything. Watching her play with her older friend Josephine is also beautiful, shameless adoration of an older sister-like friend. We made play dough with Lilly and Anissa the other day. Although the girls were competing to see who could make a prettier colour, they had a blast rolling, squishing and creating together. Jacinta sits in silence more than I probably would have at age three. The other day, she sat up from her ponderings on the bean bags and said, “Our hands are all flowers.” She held her hand up, looking at her palm as the center, her five fingers as the petals and her wrist as the stalk. Silent observation and meditation is something that comes with her melancholy, brightening her world with awe.
Sitting still is not something Genevieve does at this stage. She is always on the move, climbing on chairs, grabbing things off the table, dropping them on the floor, saying, “Uh Oh!,” sliding off the chair, fetching the lost item, climbing back up and reaching for something even further on the table. Genevieve’s idea of a perfect day would be outside with no clothes on watching chickens, turkeys, cows and butterflies. She’d have a pile of frangipanni flowers at her reach to enjoy picking and sniffing and her family nearby. Her world is energized by movement, not by rest or sleep.
Because she can’t sit still for over five minutes in the high chair, she doesn’t end up getting much food in. Sometimes I speed feed her or keep offering food through her grunts and groaning and these times she gets enough. There is a big beautiful basket of fruit on the table that Genevieve will always reach for. I used to take the fruit off her as she would take one bite out of four different pieces of fruit. Now she’ll grab a banana or a pear and actually eat the whole thing, but on the run. The only foods she will willingly remain in her high chair for a while are frozen peas, chick peas and grapes. While she eats these finger foods, I shove spoonfuls of other food in her mouth. In general, she does better eating on the run.
Matt completed his first week of work at Community Care Options. It’s funny to see him pack a quick sandwich, grab a banana and a travel mug of coffee and rush off to work, eating on the run like Genevieve. This is something we both did for years before life here in Macksville. But for two years, we haven’t really had a rigorous morning schedule to keep. He is happy to be employed, obviously. He is learning the trade, partnering with other case workers for some first hand experience meeting clients. There is a lot to learn, but he’s quite eager to absorb it all and likes the people he has met so far.
The girls and I had our first week with no car. Keith lent us the car when we needed. What a gift as it has been raining and raining. Otherwise I could push into town with the stroller. It just takes more time, which I have! We made granola, bread, and cookies. We played, danced, made music, and enjoyed visits from friends. On Thursday night, we went to a concert with Matt. Although some songs were a bit hoky and the soloists weren’t on key, it was good to see live music, hear some new songs full of Aussie culture, and for Jacinta to see so many instruments. Genevieve missed the whole thing sleeping (the result of no daytime naps), but Jacinta got to play the violin at the intermission. Friday night we had some friends here for dinner and Scrabble. Our friend Brydey gave the girls glitter tattoos. What a thrill for Jacinta. Waking up to see Lilly’s face the next morning was also quite a thrill. Usually she is whisked away sleeping in the night but this time it was raining too hard to go home, so her parents stayed the night too. What better way to spend a rainy weekend: friends, food and Scrabble.
Despite the rain, my friend Trish and I took the girls to the Bellingen markets to buy wool. We were shocked that there were actually vendors there, although there were less. The smoked fish man and the wool lady were not there. Good finds included cotton socks, brightly coloured cement mushrooms to stick in the garden, the herbal lady, and massive bunches of home-grown spinach. We found wool at a local shop instead. It took me over twenty minutes of agony to choose my wool. Jacinta was excited to choose wool for her birthday as I wanted to knit her something. She also requested that I knit Genevieve a matching vest with the wool. (This made me smile of course). She looked at the wool wall, and instantly said, “That one mommy.” What I would give for that decisiveness. Perhaps she’ll teach me someday.
It has been another interesting week. After going through a few hoops, my Permanent Resident status has been granted. I am no longer “temporary.” I can’t vote yet, but I am one step closer. Life is on its way to becoming “normal,” in that one parent is out of the house consistently. We’re working out a new rhythm. I miss having Matt around, but know that it is better this way. I’m sure he misses seeing the girls outside of waking up and going to bed on the weekdays, but finally feels worthy enough to relax on the weekends.
Wishing you relaxation on the weekends, efficiency on the weekdays, and a whole lot of peace everyday.
Peace,
Shana
Day time is lovely too, but more exhausting both mentally and physically. Giving love, attention, and care to two sweet little need machines ends up taking about thirteen hours of the day. It seems funny to count the hours. Honestly I hadn’t done it before tonight, but I’ve been contemplating the reason for my inability to focus on anything lately. We had friends over the other night and I heard bits of so many interesting conversations. Five years ago, I’d have excitedly participated. I listened while doing the dishes, ran off to play hide and seek with the children, change Genevieve’s nappy, set up dinner, check on the children. It’s not as if the other adults were sitting around being waited on, they all helped in some way. It’s not a case of poor me doing all the work.
Being the mother/parent at home, I hold the girls’ strings together. I know everything (well, almost) they have said, done, worn, eaten, drank, and played each day. Thus I know (or think I know) what they need. I know about the little fights that Jacinta and Lilly have had and why Jacinta is starting to hit people. I know if Jacinta is feeling particularly threatened or jealous of Evie, or perhaps if she is having a proud day for achieving something new on her own. I know how many times Genevieve has fallen off her chair and how hard she fought fatigue throughout the day. Perhaps it is the burden and joy of all this “knowledge,” combined with my will to carve out a compassionate, comfortable, respectful existence for the girls that keeps me from focusing on one task. I have become a terrible listener. Being a born pleaser, I am busy trying to sense out the girls’ physical and emotional needs and fulfil them before they get hurt. Someone may be speaking to me, but if I sense any form of dis-ease I tune out and analyse the girls’ problems. Being a strong believer in food as medicine, I am often concocting something to lift their spirits and boost their immune system. Missing my faraway loved ones, I am often talking on the phone. Then there is cleaning, which is not a major priority but must be done or we will injure ourselves. Being a control freak, I waste a lot of unnecessary energy. Having moved across the oceans to live on the land, I try to fit in some garden time whenever possible. Being a teacher, I am constantly trying to make everything a teachable moment. Sometimes I wish I could just let down my hair and be their friend, have fun and forget about the potential consequences of letting a few bad behaviours slip by unnoticed. Alas, with all of these things to do and be, I find it hard to stay on task. But hey, I eventually get things done, in a long, meandering, sort of a way.
The chicken pen: this a good example of a long meandering, never-ending project. We have been working on it in dribs and drabs for about five months. Last Tuesday Keith and I did a little work, with Genevieve’s help. Wednesday I worked on the framing all by myself, but couldn’t do much. So another week goes by and we are seemingly no closer to eggs. The three roosters and three bantam hens have become good wild chickens and live in the trees now. The one little chick was picked off by a kookaburra (we think) this week, sad. Jacinta said, “Mommy, I hope the chick is just hiding under the house somewhere.” Me too. She woke up crying that night, having a nightmare about the chickens. She gave no details, just sobbed for a while and ended up taking Matt’s place in our bed. A little hen left us a tiny egg on the veranda, the first egg in months. There’s a good sign.
Jacinta is three years old, almost four, growing into her own little person. She seems anxious, sad, and lost more than I expected her to be. I can’t remember being three, but I imagine childhood as carefree playtime. Since guilt and blame are a major part of me (one I am trying to change), I always wonder if this is something I have done, something common in the eldest child or if it just came with her soul. She makes a big deal about every tiny bump, scrape, or collision but won’t “allow” us to touch or even look at the supposed injury. She’ll cry and sometimes be angry until she finds something to divert her attention. An angry toned, “Oww!” is an expression that Genevieve has heard so much, she now says it too. Evie is learning quickly how to get a reaction from Jacinta, annoying her of course, sometimes just trying to make her say, “Oww!” It sounds terrible but I’ve had to tell Jacinta the story of the boy who cried wolf a few times. Don’t worry, the boy in my story doesn’t get devoured by the wolf. I remember cry babies at school, and how much the children mocked them. Perhaps this is one of my major goals as a socially obsessed mother, preparing her for her peers. Her friends are already tapping into the fun of getting a rise out of Jacinta. Oh la la, it is all beginning.
Jacinta has a lot of anxiety-free, happy hours too. Watching her play with Lilly when they are not fighting is good fun. They come up with intricate imaginative games. The other day I found them in Genevieve’s crib with stuffed animals strewn about. Upon entry into the room, Jacinta informed me, “Mom? Lilly and I don’t mind if the fox cubs poo down our shirts.” Well, that explains everything. Watching her play with her older friend Josephine is also beautiful, shameless adoration of an older sister-like friend. We made play dough with Lilly and Anissa the other day. Although the girls were competing to see who could make a prettier colour, they had a blast rolling, squishing and creating together. Jacinta sits in silence more than I probably would have at age three. The other day, she sat up from her ponderings on the bean bags and said, “Our hands are all flowers.” She held her hand up, looking at her palm as the center, her five fingers as the petals and her wrist as the stalk. Silent observation and meditation is something that comes with her melancholy, brightening her world with awe.
Sitting still is not something Genevieve does at this stage. She is always on the move, climbing on chairs, grabbing things off the table, dropping them on the floor, saying, “Uh Oh!,” sliding off the chair, fetching the lost item, climbing back up and reaching for something even further on the table. Genevieve’s idea of a perfect day would be outside with no clothes on watching chickens, turkeys, cows and butterflies. She’d have a pile of frangipanni flowers at her reach to enjoy picking and sniffing and her family nearby. Her world is energized by movement, not by rest or sleep.
Because she can’t sit still for over five minutes in the high chair, she doesn’t end up getting much food in. Sometimes I speed feed her or keep offering food through her grunts and groaning and these times she gets enough. There is a big beautiful basket of fruit on the table that Genevieve will always reach for. I used to take the fruit off her as she would take one bite out of four different pieces of fruit. Now she’ll grab a banana or a pear and actually eat the whole thing, but on the run. The only foods she will willingly remain in her high chair for a while are frozen peas, chick peas and grapes. While she eats these finger foods, I shove spoonfuls of other food in her mouth. In general, she does better eating on the run.
Matt completed his first week of work at Community Care Options. It’s funny to see him pack a quick sandwich, grab a banana and a travel mug of coffee and rush off to work, eating on the run like Genevieve. This is something we both did for years before life here in Macksville. But for two years, we haven’t really had a rigorous morning schedule to keep. He is happy to be employed, obviously. He is learning the trade, partnering with other case workers for some first hand experience meeting clients. There is a lot to learn, but he’s quite eager to absorb it all and likes the people he has met so far.
The girls and I had our first week with no car. Keith lent us the car when we needed. What a gift as it has been raining and raining. Otherwise I could push into town with the stroller. It just takes more time, which I have! We made granola, bread, and cookies. We played, danced, made music, and enjoyed visits from friends. On Thursday night, we went to a concert with Matt. Although some songs were a bit hoky and the soloists weren’t on key, it was good to see live music, hear some new songs full of Aussie culture, and for Jacinta to see so many instruments. Genevieve missed the whole thing sleeping (the result of no daytime naps), but Jacinta got to play the violin at the intermission. Friday night we had some friends here for dinner and Scrabble. Our friend Brydey gave the girls glitter tattoos. What a thrill for Jacinta. Waking up to see Lilly’s face the next morning was also quite a thrill. Usually she is whisked away sleeping in the night but this time it was raining too hard to go home, so her parents stayed the night too. What better way to spend a rainy weekend: friends, food and Scrabble.
Despite the rain, my friend Trish and I took the girls to the Bellingen markets to buy wool. We were shocked that there were actually vendors there, although there were less. The smoked fish man and the wool lady were not there. Good finds included cotton socks, brightly coloured cement mushrooms to stick in the garden, the herbal lady, and massive bunches of home-grown spinach. We found wool at a local shop instead. It took me over twenty minutes of agony to choose my wool. Jacinta was excited to choose wool for her birthday as I wanted to knit her something. She also requested that I knit Genevieve a matching vest with the wool. (This made me smile of course). She looked at the wool wall, and instantly said, “That one mommy.” What I would give for that decisiveness. Perhaps she’ll teach me someday.
It has been another interesting week. After going through a few hoops, my Permanent Resident status has been granted. I am no longer “temporary.” I can’t vote yet, but I am one step closer. Life is on its way to becoming “normal,” in that one parent is out of the house consistently. We’re working out a new rhythm. I miss having Matt around, but know that it is better this way. I’m sure he misses seeing the girls outside of waking up and going to bed on the weekdays, but finally feels worthy enough to relax on the weekends.
Wishing you relaxation on the weekends, efficiency on the weekdays, and a whole lot of peace everyday.
Peace,
Shana
posted by Matt & Shana & Jacinta & Genevieve Henry at
10:49 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks Matt for posting these... I've missed you guys!!!
Diane
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