memory edit

also written a year ago and not posted:

it's been too long since i last wrote

years

i'm afraid i might have forgotten how...

like when i stopped speaking to my kids in spanish and then when i tried again, instead of answering me (albeit in english) they would say "speak to me normally!"

i'm afraid to write again and afraid to not write. 

do i know how to put my thoughts into words that properly express the complexity of my thoughts? maybe my thoughts aren't so complex...

but how many memories will get distorted or forgotten in the time that elapses without any record keeping if i don't write? i know enough to know that i don't trust my own memory. i rely heavily on the photographs i have taken or the thoughts i scribbled down to serve as a sort of impartial memory keeper. they don't get tampered with out there. 

so i will write things down, to not forget. 

there is something so beautiful and also so sad about remembering

stop, breathe, be

stop, breathe, be.

this was a little mantra that i learned in the mindfulness workshop i did in the fall. i have since forgotten all about mindfulness and have become particularly absent-minded and reactful (except that is a word i may have made up.... ) partially due to the hormone shifts in my body from pregnancy, but also because i have recently felt...overwhelmed (the work, the school the new dog?)

after having class all weekend (17 hrs of it) i was sort of looking forward to not having to work on monday. except that m woke up with a complicated mood and spent most of the morning crying and complaining and my patience wore thin. things improved as we approached the afternoon so i thought i would take the dogs for a walk as m enjoyed a nice post-lunch banana smoothie in her stroller. it was a lovely idea.

when we got home i thought i would be especially thorough and brush both dogs before releasing them back into the house since i had done a half-assed (but better than nothing!) cleaning of the floors earlier that morning.

i brushed buster and put him inside the house no problem, m decided to go in with him. then i brushed jett, and even though i noticed as we were walking back from the park that i mistakenly only attached her leash to her harness and not her collar, i forgot this small detail as i took off her harness on our front porch. she realized before i did that she was no longer tethered to anything. she took a couple quick steps away from me before turning around to look at me. panicked, but acting cool, calm and collect, i bent down and called her name as sweetly as i could before she turned and ran right into the street with her clumsy, energetic puppy run.

as she went down the middle of our street a truck turned onto our block. because of the stop sign at the corner the driver wasn't going fast and had plenty of time to see her run right in front of him before hopping onto the sidewalk to turn the corner. as i started to try and calculate whether i was going to somehow go after her and how that might happen without completely abandoning my two year old alone in the house (not to mention my inability to run at the moment anyway...), a woman with a stroller and a dog appeared on the corner.

jett quickly turned back before fully disappearing around the corner to say hello - she can never resist socializing with another dog. i called out a request to please grab the dog, that she was friendly, and the woman with the stroller and the other dog calmly grabbed jett's collar as i hobbled down the street toward them. as i did the truck driver rolled down his window as he passed me to let me know that i "should be more careful". thank you mr truck driver, what a helpful comment in this moment of frustration, panic and embarrassment.

for some reason i had dropped the harness and leash before going after jett so when i got to her, the only way to get her back to our house was to hunch over and grab her collar as i wobbled my 9-month pregnant butt back down our block. did i mention the pain my body is in as i am approaching due date time? none of this was helpful to my already crooked and throbbing right side.

when i got back to my house m and buster were standing behind the storm door having witnessed the whole pathetic scene
-did you catch her, mom?
-yes....sort of.
the good news is that when i finally closed the door behind me, i remembered one of the things i had learned about myself during my mindfulness workshop in the fall.
one of the ways i relieve stress in my life is to just cry, and i hadn't had a good cry in a while.
but today i did.
and i genuinely felt better afterward.

mini bilingual

little brains are amazing.
the speed with which m is picking up social norms (greeting people, picking up books and speaking gibberish as if to read them)
mechanics of movement (snapping and unsnapping EVERY buckle on every kind of chair/seat/stroller she can - especially when she is not sitting in it)
and words ("yucky" "help please""pantalones")
is awesome to watch.

because we speak to her in spanish and she lives in an english world, she is getting a pretty hefty dose of both languages. the words she has acquired so far have typically been in one language or the other.

she says "medias" for socks but "shoes" instead of "zapatos"
but more recently she has gone back and forth between both the english and the spanish word for a given object or idea.

the first time was when i indicated that she had "dos" of something and she held both up and said "TWO!"

i thought at first that it was by chance that she made this connection between the different words, but after hearing her repeat this translation of the number many times in many situations i realized that she understands the concept of "two" and uses both the english and spanish word to express that concept.

similarly, at dinner the other night, she started to play the game that she has played some version of all year in which she pretends to leave and says "bye". when i ask where she is going she usually says "home". but this particular time i asked "¿vas a tu 'home'?" and she corrected me - "casa!"

on the one hand it seems logical that she would absorb both words and maybe use them interchangeably, but it struck me as particularly interesting that she wanted to use the right word in the right context - knowing that "casa" fits with the question i asked her otherwise exclusively in spanish.

finally when i went to pick her up from school yesterday, i overheard one of her classmates requesting "agua". i asked the teacher if they had started using spanish with the kids and she answered that they simply have all picked up (at least the word for water) on m's use of spanish.

as a mom and a language teacher i couldn't be more pleased :)

socialization

i cannot separate who i am really from what i have been socialized to be.

in highschool i made a point of not shaving my armpits (which were remarkably hairy) but have since gotten that hair removed by laser - a great barter for a couple of hours of babysitting.

sellout.

i like using old spice deodorant because i like the smell
but maybe more so because i know it is not meant for me to wear

i like driving my husband's truck, drinking whiskey and being good at math - all the more because i'm not supposed to.

i don't dress like a "lady" but only because i find it unbearably uncomfortable.
i love the way high heels draw attention to the arch of the foot, the curve of the calf; strong but somehow delicate.

no, i cannot separate who i am from who i am supposed to be.

vocab inventory

in the last week or two m's vocabulary has more than doubled. almost every day another word comes out of her mouth that i have never heard her say before.
"¿acabas de decir 'coffee'?"
("did you just say 'coffee'"?)
complicated of course by the fact that she is learning two languages at once, i am amazed that she is talking at all and not simply overwhelmed and mute.

i thought i would make a list of all the things m is saying these days to mark this moment (just a few weeks over a year and a half old!) so that when i look back i can remember where she started... and to find out, "what words does she know?" like so many other questions, sometimes i don't know the answer until i stop to write it out...

her school taught her a few words in sign language that she was using before being able to vocalize anything so those were officially her "first" words, they were:
more, all done, please, thank you, milk, apple, and help (which she expressed by using the same sign for please)

in english:
hi, bye,
no, yeah,
up, down,
hot, cold,
slow, go,
baby, yum, shoes, ball, car, door, pants, eye, nose, ear, apple, top, coffee,
sit, sneeze, play, read, row
dump (usually said before dumping a container of some kind)
all done,
help please,
wash hands (sounds like  "wash he")
one, two, three, four (which she says in order while pointing to things - even though i know she is not actually counting anything, it's pretty amazing that she gets some part of this concept)
back (from wheels on the bus when the driver says "move on back")

in español:
mamá, papá,
caca, pis,
dinosaurio (the green stuffy she sleeps with - sounds like sari, but its consistent),
manta, noni, upa, más, agua, pan, teta, leche, mano, mono
pasta, pizza, banana (yes, we are counting  these on the spanish side)

she also says the names (again, sometimes her own version of the names) of most of the people in her extended family, in which there are over 20 members including her dogs buster and chloe (bussy and koh-E), and all the kids in her class (of which there are five - my favorite is "jack" which she says backwards; "kah")

even for the words that are not quite the words that we speaking adults use, the way that she is still able to COMMUNICATE astounds me. i learned that she knew the word "row" only just this week through the following interaction:

she was sitting on her tush with her legs out in front of her tapping her thighs with her hands in a way that looked like some sort of routine, so i asked her,
- ¿eso es lo que haces en 'morning meeting'? (is that what you do in morning meeting?)
-yeah
-¿cantas canciones en morning meeting también? (do you sing in morning meeting too?)
-yeah
-¿cuáles canciones cantas? (what songs do you sing?)
and this is when she started to rock back and forth and sing "row, row, row, row, row, row...."
-row, row, row your boat?!!
-yeah!! (with an enormous smile)
i couldn't tell which one of us was more excited and surprised that we managed to just conduct a full conversation. it was awesome.

watching her little brain develop is fascinating.

mothers and daughters

she laughs frequently, loves to engage people, but when she is quiet, her face looks like it's in a scowl.

that furrowed little brow is one of concern (of anxiety?)
something bigger than she can articulate.
......she can only articulate about ten words

what do her thoughts look like....
without words?
what is that weight that she carries?

if i knew i would probably be able to fall asleep at night without running my fingers along my own brow - a physical cue to release the tension there.

maybe its coincidence,
perhaps its uniquely female,
or it could just be that without warning or choice, that is what she has inherited from me

birth story

toward the end of my pregnancy i became very interested in reading about labor. in particular i enjoyed reading different women's birthing stories.  learning about other people's experiences helped get me ready for my own.

so, i thought i would write little m's birth story both to join that chorus of hippy dippy moms that share these personal moments in an effort to create a community of supportive people, and also to simply capture the experience before time and the malfunctions of memory obscure or alter it.

i think the experience of labor could be compared to running a marathon in many ways. so much of the process is mental despite being so seemingly physical. i remember at about an hour into my birth center experience hearing a mother at the end of her labor pushing her baby out. i could hear her grunts and screams and then finally, a little baby's voice crying;  it was an inspirational soundtrack. that little part of you that thinks "oh, if she can do it, then i can do it"

mile markers are also mental; reminding you how far you have come and therefore urging you on....at one point i asked the midwife, "when is that part that everyone says is so hard...'transition'?" and she responded "oh, you're in it right now". knowing that immediately gave me a mental boost to keep going.

another parallel for me, was how each task seemed conceptually impossible before actually doing it. "my uterus will do what?" "how many miles exactly is a marathon?" but somehow you end up doing what seemed so impossible...and then the only way you conceive of doing it again is by forgetting just enough of your experience, and knowing that because you did it before, you can probably survive doing it again.

but to be honest, there isn't really anything that compares.

little m's birth story:

my due date was july 3rd and i had an appointment that day for a check up. in the weeks prior i had not had any interest in knowing how dilated i was. i had read that ones dilation before labor began was not truly indicative of anything (women could be 3 cm dilated for weeks before going into labor, or not dilated at all a few hours before delivering a baby) but on this day i was curious enough to find out. the midwife warned me that by merely checking, she could instigate some contractions, and i was fine with that.

3cm dilated (not very interesting) and 70% effaced (interesting!) i left the birth center knowing that this process i had been waiting for and reading about had started, and even in the car ride back from the birth center that afternoon, i started having contractions.  all afternoon those contractions were sporadic, sometimes over an hour or two apart, sometimes only 20 minutes apart but they definitely felt different from the braxton hicks contractions i had been feeling for months.

at about 8:30 pm that night erk and i decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. neither one of us brought a phone or watch or any other device to keep track of time, but it seemed to me that the contractions were becoming more regular, lasting for longer periods of time and because we had been out for over an hour, i was convinced that it was possible i had reached the 4-1-1 point our birth class had us trained to remember (when the contractions were 4 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute long and the whole cycle had taken place for 1 hour, indicating it was time to call/go to the birth center)

so i called, and the midwife on duty asked, "is this your first?" as if to say "are you over-anxious and don't you know first timers take forever anyway?" she assured me i had time. suggested that i download an app to keep track of the contractions, that they needed to be really regular and timed and that maybe i was being too active and that i should try and eat something and get some rest. when those contractions were truly four minutes apart, lasting for a minute in a cycle of at least an hour, then i should call her back.

ok, once the app was downloaded i sent erk to bed. i knew i could handle this early stage without him and that i would really need him rested for the harder work ahead. (i also know that when he is tired he is grumpy and when he is grumpy he is, himself, a large baby)

so i ate and i tried sleeping at around 10:30 pm using erk's phone to keep track of my contractions. i only slept for nine to ten minutes at a time because the contractions kept waking me up. at about 1am i was no longer trying to sleep, but trying to keep myself busy (catching up on email correspondence) while managing the now more intense, longer-lasting contractions (i had now established a favorite position to labor in: kneeling over that big red exercise ball i bought in college before i knew it was called a "birthing" ball by pregnant women). a little before 2:30am the contractions were sometimes lasting over a minute even though they were not consistently four minutes apart (sometimes six, sometimes three) but they were getting painful enough that i knew i was ready for help. i first called the birthing center "you want to come in and have us check you? ok, just give us an eta so we can be ready to send a nurse to let you in" i could tell she still wasn't convinced.

then i went to wake erk up.  he wasn't convinced either. "are you sure? already? what time is it?" he asked half asleep; he was also convinced that i was just being over anxious, but as he began to wake up more , he saw the look of certainty on my face. "i'm sure. it's time" and as i said the words i got so overwhelmed that i started to tear up; from excitement, from fear, from anticipation...not knowing that this was the beginning of a week-long roller-coaster ride of emotions.

erk popped out of bed, we grabbed our things and got into the car. the drive to the birth center was easy. there was no traffic, but some of the contractions were so intense i asked erk to stop the car until they had passed. i don't know why exactly, it was like, the world stopped during those contractions, or i was trying to make it stop...im not sure. we arrived just past 3am. a nurse came to open the door for us and i remember saying, "nice pants" before having the longest contraction of my whole labor. they were nice pants.

the midwife on call quickly checked me in the room she had ready for us.  only 4cm dilated - i was a little disappointed, i was sure i was much further along than that, everything was already so intense! she asked if i wanted to try laboring in the jacuzzi tub. i had been looking forward to this feature at the birth center. they say that the water and the jets are like a natural anesthesia. my experience was a little different. my first contraction in the tub was so uncomfortable. where was my exercise/birthing ball?! i didn't like the position of my body in the tub at all, the midwife reminded me that in order to adjust to a new position you should allow your body to have more than one contraction there. but i felt ready to puke. by the third contraction erk was in fact holding a puke pan out for me to puke into, which i did, successfully. before the fourth contraction i was ready to get out of the tub. i didn't care if it would get better, i wanted to be back on the ball.

sometime soon after, my midwife got switched out for another midwife. apparently there were more women having babies that night than anticipated, and so julie had been called in. i had only met julie earlier that day but had been meaning to meet her for months. i had taught her son and knew of her, but hadn't actually met her until a few hours before when she jokingly said "maybe i'll see you later tonight" here we were.

i had become dependent on erk to apply pressure to my lower back through each contraction, (another reason i didn't like the tub; i couldn't get his help the same way) but at a certain point even erk's full weight into my back wasn't enough.  julie suggested the pelvic squeeze we had learned about in class. it was amazing how helpful it was, until it wasn't, and i soon needed even more. for the next contraction both he and julie were doing the pelvic squeeze together; one on each side of my body pushing toward each other.  with each contraction it was as if they were literally making room for the baby to move down. (proof that they were literally moving my bones came days later when my hips felt bruised from all the pushing, but it was worth it at the time)

in all honesty, it's all kind of a blur, but i remember a couple of other key details.
1. at a certain point i said aloud "why do people do this without drugs?! why am i doing this without drugs?!!" (but the truth is, if i did it again, i would do it the same way- no drugs, in part because i now know what to expect)
2. at another point i asked erk to count through my contractions. not down...(i had no idea how long each would last). just up. he thought this was incredibly odd and he seemed embarrassed/hesitant every time i asked him, until once between contractions i angrily insisted, "don't make me ask you every time, just f*$#@g count!" (i was not feeling embarrassed or hesitant) and sort of like making him stop the car on the way to the birth center, i have no idea why this was helpful. it seemed to facilitate my concentration through each contraction.
3. close to the end two interesting things happened. i used a birthing stool through a couple of contractions which led to my water breaking...what a weird sensation! and i was so HOT that erk was putting ice cold cloths on my head and back and somehow it never felt like enough to cool me down. my body had never gotten so hot/worked so hard in it's life...

right before it was time to push i remember asking julie, "how will i know when it's time to push? will you tell me?" and she assured me i would know...i would have no choice but to push, my body would just do it. and she was right.  three intense pushes that i was sure were ripping my body in half and little m was almost out. in fact julie said, "wally (she didn't call him erk...or wally...) there's your baby's head, do you want to feel it? he was fascinated and said "yeah!". then i was asked; "no i don't want to feel it! i want to finish!"

and then came the hardest part (conceptually). they call it the ring of fire, but i didn't experience that exactly (or i don't remember) but when the baby is crowning a common practice to avoid both an episiotomy and/or any tearing is to wait a moment so that you use the baby's head to stretch you sufficiently before those last pushes. right when i was almost done julie said "ok, don't push" and my response was "are you kidding?!!" she had just told me i would have no choice but to push when it was time to push, and my body was telling me to push and my brain was telling me to push (so that it would be over) but she was telling me not to...it was probably only a moment but it felt like an eternity.

finally i got the ok to continue and then came that last push and her head quickly followed by the rest of her body came out.

at 5:34am on thursday july 4th little m was born.

the next part is not my favorite part of the story, but it's one of the most important parts, because it was something i was totally unprepared for.

i had been told that labor was hard (although i didn't know what that meant until i did it) but that after all that hard work, when your baby came out all the pain would disappear and you would become almost magically in love.

i did not have that experience.

i had never been in shock before so it took me some time to realize that that was what had happened. i had done so much reading about the wonders of childbirth that i had failed to recognize it as a trauma. (a beautiful trauma! but a trauma nonetheless) because my labor was so fast, i think it made the experience that much more intense; there was no time to process each thing that was happening as it happened.

for those first 24 hours i was not in love with little m. (i feel comfortable sharing that because i am so bananas in love with her now, but at the time it was terrifying.) "well, i like babies, so i am sure i will like this one" i tried to rationalize with myself. but the truth was that i was devastated to not have that love hormone instantly kick in, that feeling of being a MOM. what made the feeling both more prevalent and more bearable was witnessing how instantly erk fell in love with little m. on the one hand it brought to my attention the lack of feeling i had in contrast, but as i said, i was still in shock and i think it also helped ground me back into reality. it slowly started to sink in...we made a person.... what an unbelievable concept. and every day since i have fallen more madly in love with her.

warm weather

amazing how it warms my heart

playing the game

what is the game?
assigning and giving out grades to my students

i never had grades until i got into highschool and college, and after that i never worked at a school that gave out grades

until now

and it's amazing how counterproductive it is for some of my students. they literally work ONLY for a grade - missing the whole step about learning...

and i don't remember how much i cared or didn't care when i was in school (about the actual learning part) i don't think i cared...and i turned out alright...

but man is it frustrating to be part of a system that you are trying to work against...

dance again

so glad i had that ugly experience a couple of weeks ago at koresh, otherwise i would have never found my new favorite dance class.

for half the price, half the number of students and a half of an hour longer, i found a class that is monumentally superior to the class i was taking earlier this year. no disrespect to my former teacher, but she was not a dance educator. my new teacher is. she teaches at temple. in fact, a couple of her students were taking this non-temple class last night in an old church (which made me feel a bit like an old woman, but that's ok/true in the dance world). it made me miss my college dance classes; miss this more comprehensive approach to dance.

the language of a dance educator to describe movement is at times technical, and other times a series of comical analogies. this is the way i have grown to appreciate and understand movement; both in my own body and in other people's. i didn't realize that this was such a basic and fundamental part of what was missing from the classes at koresh.

this new class also kicked my ass- both physically and mentally (it's been a while since i have been asked to, "now try that whole combination on your left side" - so good for your brain and your body!)

hoping this is the first of many steps toward having dance become a more significant part of my life again.

mood swings

it's hard to fully acknowledge one end of the swing when you are at the apex of the other.
but for now, i am delighted to not remember what being sad, upset or depressed feels or looks like.
i'm just enjoying the hell out of this up swing

lists

even if i never look at it once it's made, or i only get half the things i wrote down actually checked off, there is something about making a list that feels intrinsically valuable.

taking the time to sort and organize my thoughts (aka my anxieties) makes me instantly less..... anxious

not only the process of writing, but the ability to see/identify the list makes it manageable. it feels like therapy.

the diving bell and the butterfly

i watched this movie a couple of nights ago after having read the book a couple of years ago. and even though i knew the story, i was struck by it all over again.

it is an incredibly sad and inspirational true story.  the film is shot beautifully, highlighting life joys by accentuating them and providing the perspective to glimpse into what living becomes without them.

both the book and the movie are an ode to the power of imagination, determination and gratitude.

lack of sleep

my father has said that in the years he lived with my mother, he never saw her sleep. she has a tendency to wake up very early (and maybe in her younger years she went to bed late too).

i seem to have inherited some of that "i'll sleep when i'm dead" attitude genetically.

i think i associate my sleeping past sunrise with being ill or being depressed and end up feeling weak if i don't get up with the sun.  as a kid, if i woke up after my siblings, i felt like i had missed something incredibly important - what had they been doing while i was asleep?! waking up "late" gave me anxiety even when i was little.

i function efficiently with about 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night. i think i would do best sleeping 5 hrs at night with a one hour nap in the middle of the day; but ever since i stopped working in daycare that daytime nap has gotten harder to come by...

more recently i have been waking up at 3:30 in the morning. sometimes i can go straight back to sleep and other times i absolutely can't.  this has a similar effect on my psyche as my sleeping late does. i end up thinking that something is wrong with me; some part of me is malfunctioning. why did i wake up when the world is dark and quiet? another kind of anxiety is created there.

sleep is such a mysterious thing. we spend anywhere from a 3rd to a 4th of our lives asleep (7-10 years for me thus far). and while i enjoy the nebulous understanding we have of our dreams and what they mean (there is so much room for interpretation and discovery!) on a practical level, i don't always like how mysterious my sleeping patterns are and how they effect my mood.

i appreciate that my body may be trying to tell me something. i'm just not sure what it is.

not unique

i have recently been examining this idea that certain rules do not apply to me. i never liked associating myself with titles because i thought they were too constraining/defined. in college when reading about sociological experiments i assumed that i would have always been one of the outliers; the exception that proved the rule.

but recently i read a very engaging article that forced me to acknowledge that science can in fact trump the idea of individuality, originality, or uniqueness. i just represent another piece of data

the article is about marketing, and collecting information about consumers so as to best advertise to them- and it is in fact a science. it's interesting for a variety of reasons (ex: target, as a company, knew a girl was pregnant and was advertising baby products to her before her own father knew - pg 7 of the article) one of the ones that most struck me was the exact science to our habits.

duhigg breaks our habits into a cycle: it starts with a cue; a trigger that tells your brain to go into automatic mode and which habit to use. Then there is the routine, which can be physical or mental or emotional. Finally, there is a reward, which helps your brain figure out if this particular loop is worth remembering for the future.

if able to identify the cues, routines, and rewards that you internalize, you might come to know as much about yourself as your local marketers do.

letter to a younger/invinsible version of myself

dear me,

a couple of things to please consider: (....despite your resistance to taking advice from any "elders")

• you don't know everything/much of anything
• even smoking "a little" is bad for you, and is gross - you will feel/understand this more when you try and play soccer as an adult
• reading in dim light may, in fact affect your eyesight when you are older (but im not entirely sure about this one...)
• you know how people always said "lift with your knees"? you will go camping in the woods circa 2002 and pick up a very heavy box. please, please, please use your legs to lift it.
• when choreographing modern dances, remember that the body you will perform it with is the body you keep for the rest of your life; be mindful of what you are asking that body to do.
• why the hell do you think you were given a retainer? yes, you need to wear it, you dummy.

love,
me

life lesson in a phrase

in talking with t the other day, she quoted something that stuck to me like crazy glue
"if you're hysterical, it's probably historical."

what does that mean?
if you find yourself very upset by a person or situation (like you get hysterical) your reaction probably has more to do with something else in your past, than with the present situation. this is true for even smaller kinds of "overreactions."

we already know this when thinking of our physical selves. usually people throw out their backs doing the smallest of movements (think of this as you getting hysterical).  typically we wear ourselves (our muscles and joints) out before that moment - the history of our bodies builds up to that crisis point.

here is to therapy (of body and mind) to preserve ourselves!

bing!

a couple of weeks ago i was giving a group of 13 year olds some advice that only last week i realized i could take for myself. i like to think of those moments as "bing!" moments.  when a little light bulb goes off in my brain, or i suddenly discover something that was staring me in the face all along. BING!

the stories inside the story

when i was ten years old my father called me into his office, along with my sister and brother, and told us he had an important question to ask. he wanted to move back to argentina, and felt that he needed our approval before leaving. after listing his reasons for moving he asked what we thought.  the first thing i said was "everyone will think i was abandoned."

he responded, "i don't care what other people think... i am asking you what you think"

even as a little kid i seemed so concerned with other people's perceptions of me that it inhibited my abilities to sort out how i, myself, felt. where did this preoccupation came from? perhaps it is the artist in me, looking for approval and validation from the audience.

erk and i had been acting out a lot of fake proposals (as seen above) while on vacation in san francisco (it started with planking pictures, and then naturally progressed into engagement-pose pictures.) so the fake proposals had been a long time coming and it both built up the anticipation of the real thing and ruined the possibility of it being a surprise. i even saw the box the ring was in in his underwear drawer weeks before he asked me. 

then on the night of roshashana (how very symbolic and jewish of us) when i was about 7 glasses of wine plastered, tired and dreading my 6am wake-up to go to work, eli asked me to leave the light on as i was heading into bed. i protested, saying i didn't have any energy, wasn't in the mood, and just wanted to go to sleep. he insisted and when i laid down he asked if i wanted to marry him.

i said "no" (standard part of our fake proposal routine) and he then asked if i was sure. i said of course i wanted to marry him, but if he was joking again, to fuck off (or something to that affect - i don't actually remember, as i said, i was drunk/tired). what i do remember is that he then gave me a nice, long kiss and while we were kissing, he put the ring in my hand, not on it. 

my first reaction was protest - "you're supposed to put it on my finger!" he said something like "close-enough".

in the moment, i was annoyed. it was late, i was drunk, and i had to wake up early go to work and then was leaving to go to ny for three days and wouldn't see him till i got back. what kind of a proposal story would this make? that thought actually crossed my mind and was part of what put me instantly in a bad mood. what would other people think about this story? what the hell was wrong with me? how did other people enter into my "engagement story"?

the next day, we rearranged the weekend; went out to dinner alone and then made time to share the news with our families, etc. the funny thing is that i love our long, sloppy story. while i can blame my initial reaction on my intake of wine that evening, the truth is that i still am working through some of the same issues i was working through as a ten year old kid - wondering, "what will everyone else think?"  while it's important to consider others (maybe especially for me) it's a balance, perhaps a lifelong one to achieve. 

perspective III

in chatting with an old friend today i remembered something my brother told me about when he was a little kid.  he said that before he could read, he would only see the yellow spaces around the red "s" of the superman seal - he never realized that the red formed an "s". i have been fascinated by this for a long time.

the moment we begin to learn our letters, we are trained to see them and put them together to make meaning of things. but like any training, it can potentially limit our abilities as well. most of us literate people would never look at the superman "s" (or something equivalent) and first see the shapes around the letter - our eye would directly be drawn to the letter we so readily recognize.

why is this interesting? i think that in general we are trained to see and understand things in certain ways. the more experience we have/life we live, the more this is true. this is what i love about kids and their ability to remain open to things.