| Rayne Today Searching for dharma, in spite of the weather...
FULL FLOWER MOON AND LUNAR ECLIPSE Hope youll be able to catch this event wherever you areI wont. Were under drizzly skies which arent expected to clear for another 24 hours. The eclipse should start shortly after What would be nice to see from my location is a red moon rising; the eclipse will start not long after moonrise. It might for you as well if youre in eastern Next month: Full Strawberry Moon on 14-JUN add this date to your calendar!  comment []
The Parent Learning Curve: The road to here Weve had some blogging here in the Salon Blog neighborhood about kids. There are those of us who want them, some who have them, others that dont want them, some who cant have them. Kind of a nice follow-through after Mother's Day this past weekend; without kids, who's a mother? Having been on either side of the dont-want-them-cant-have-them/want-them-have-them fence, I can tell you this: the world is entirely different when you have kids. For the longest time I didnt want kids; I told my parents when I was seven years old I wasnt going to have any. Children were an annoyance to me perhaps it was my role as oldest child in the family that ensured Id feel this way. As head sibling, you get the dubious privilege of diaper changing and nose wiping and corralling youngsters that arent yours. Worse, youd get punished if one of the kids got into trouble. Hey, werent you watching your brother? Agh, what do you think a 14-year-old would rather do, talk to a boyfriend or hawk over a five-year-old shin-kicker? Id already had my fill of helping raise kids, what with having three younger siblings. I felt that kids were not in my future, right up until I was in my twenties. An older girlfriend on the verge of thirty went through a nasty divorce, fell head over heels in love, remarried and got pregnant in rapid succession. Since her new spouse would be out of town about the time the baby was due, I went along with her to birthing classes with the intention of being the backup birthing coach. (What the heck, I had time, it'd be a fun and novel experience, right?) She started the classes a little late; wed only finish them just before her due date. I wasnt really aware this was a symptom of denial; she was still smoking, not eating any differently, pretty much going on as she had been before the pregnancy. Wed goof around during the classes, acting as if pregnancy was something that wouldnt really impact our lives. A few weeks into class, one of our classmates didnt show up. The instructor told us shed delivered early, a healthy baby boy. This was a bit of a shock to us. It never really occurred to me or my friend that she could find herself in the same position, suddenly not in class and just as suddenly in another world. It was demanding attention. There was no way around it, my friend was well and truly pregnant. Her size five pants wouldnt zip or snap. She wore her blouses untucked to hide a piece of elastic that closed the gap between the button and the buttonhole on her pants. That worked for two weeks. Reality set in; there was something growing inside her that wouldnt be denied. My friend wept for the loss of her beautiful figure and her lovely collection of designer clothes she could no longer wear. It seemed a bit irrational, but I couldnt put my finger on why. That week we watched two films during our birthing class. The first was about child development, depicting every step along the path from a little bud to a whopping eight-pound baby. I could only think, OUCH, as the film ended, but my friend seemed lost in a reverie. Shed seen her baby, or a proxy thereof, at the exact week shed calculated she was at in her pregnancy. It looked like a baby, no longer an undecipherable mammalian seedpod. (In this time before ultrasounds were common practice, a baby was pretty much a mental construct until birth.) She stayed in that reverie for the rest of the evening. The second film gutted me. It was about birthing and fatherhood, about the contributions a father could make before, during and after the birth of his child. At the time I was living with a very selfish, egotistical guy the kind of smart, urbane dude who thinks he has the world by the ass, but in reality is just a very mature spoiled brat. Being in the throes of love, Id always kowtowed to him, catered to his every need. This movie changed it all, messed with my head. I had to pull the car over on the way home and have a huge sopping wet cry. I had no idea why at that moment, but living with a man whod told me he would never change a dirty diaper, ever (nor ever let me have a foreign car for that matter), was immediately appalling. Id lived with him for five years and decided in that moment that was too long, I would have to leave him. It was suddenly clear to me that if he wouldnt change a diaper for a much-awaited, beloved piece of himself, hed do very little for me. That week in her pregnacy, in our birthing class together was a reality check. Somehow, my girlfriend and I had built up these perfectly sheltered little lives, unaware that some of our aspirations and desires either werent really ours or were very skewed. It was another decade before I had a child of my own. Between that single evening and the birth of my daughter, a flood gate opened and a torrent of experiences changed my mind entirely about having children. I fell in love with a man, in part because he was a loving father; I learned to parent by helping raise my stepson. I found out how badly I wanted a child when for a period of time it looked as if I couldnt have them. And then, my daughter came along. I went through a similar period of denial as my friend had done; reality set in when the little flutters became tap dancing I could see on the ultrasound monitor. A final shift -- my consciousness had completely changed. Nothing in my world has been the same since. Even the birthing process cracked me open wide, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually. Becoming a parent was a long process for me; I would have been an awful parent in my twenties. Thank goodness, parenthood came much later. The view on the other side has been entirely worth the trip, to me. Its not as if I LOVE all kids. I spent this morning with about a thousand fine monsters that I would send to a military academy pronto if I could. Most kids still make me itch; the running noses, sloppiness, horrible manners, mouthy attitudes are enough to give anyone hives and break out the Lysol. But Ive learned something now that is hard to explain; these fine monsters are somebodys beloved spawn. My daughter was an angel, is an angel every day even when shes having one of those Mom-you-didnt-wash-my-favorite-jeans-how-could-you days. I dont know that I would have thought or felt that way had I not become her mother. There are people who cant have children of their own, but parent children through adoption or through mentoring or being fine aunts and uncles. My own family adopted my youngest brother; I can relate entirely to that kind of birthing process as well. You discover the same lessons, birth parent or no; there remains a kind of mental and spiritual change to allow this other little person into your life wholeheartedly. I can respect the dislike-kids/dont-want-them crowd; been there, done that, visit occasionally. But I must assure you, its completely and utterly different over here. I wouldnt go back over there permanently for the world. comment []
WARNING: SLOW BLOGGING FIELD TRIP AHEAD Equal Opportunity Chaperoning in progress; Im escorting my daughter and schoolmates to a live production at a local theatre this morning. Blogging must go on the back burner. (It seems like I just did this for my son...) Ill probably need a stiff drink afterwards; nine and ten-year-olds are bubbly, effervescent balls of energy like younger children but annoying chatterbox gossips like teenagers. Squirrel herding at its finest. Wish me luck. Or watch for me on CNN. comment []
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