mama hips

July 15, 2010

The Morning Commute

Sitting on the bus in my seat against the window, watching the the humanity I travel among every morning. Today, in the blue Septa seat sits a young mother in a burka taking her two boys to school, a bald and stately black man wearing a tan suit reading through a manilla file, an Asian woman I suppose is a nurse wearing scrubs and big ass rhinestone sunglasses mixed in with teenagers, babies, workers and addicts and me, all on our way somewhere. Moving. Intersecting. Together.

I miss Danae, it bothered me today to have to leave. I think about working like this for a few more years and get sad at the time I won’t have with her. I got jealous of Joe and the moms that watch my baby while they stay home with theirs. I got mad at their potty training abilities, mad at their photobooks time and the time they have to develop their children. Its not them, I know. Its me, I know.

I’m having a hard time with all things I didn’t want to happen, happening. Tv all the time, hotdogs, time apart to make more money. I feel that this whining is superficial and to some degree it is. I know what is best for us and what needs to happen. I know my cousins need our help. I know my family needs stability and income on order to live our dream and so then its okay and I am proud and excited by the potential and limitless possibilities that lie ahead.

Sitting on the bus, I wonder if these people know what I know and what their house might look like, their neighborhood or where they are going. Moving ahead or trudging along, being or fighting, breaking or perpetuating cycles. Why and what brought them to this bus ride. and that brings to me to why I am on this bus ride, thinking about these sorts of things.

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June 15, 2010

Dirty and and tired and loving every second of it.

Just when I think I’ve got this, I don’t. Just when I step out a little on either side to fill in the space I I know I can reach I reach it alright but there is a whole new feeling of discomfort there. Same cycle; I just went from the tense phase to the bugging our stage and now am in the what the fuck stage. Dirty and and tired and loving every second of it.

It’s 8 o’clock at night, I just put Danaë to bed. I am writing this post in the kitchen having just finished packaging tomorrow’s breakfast and lunch for all of us, iPhone in hand to give existence to the flow of words in my head.

Five minutes prior to this, I was living the scene in my movie where I standing in my kitchen at the end of the day, romanced by Ann Peebles in my hips when the music swells compelling me to stop take a deep breath, put my hands over head and let all the exasperation out. The sound of the lady blues: I’m doing what mother after mother after mother has done; work at taking care of their babies. For all of us, its work on some level and for most of us we have had the moment when all we can do is sigh and know its all alright and that bed isn’t too far off.

Fucking hell today took a lot of effort. At one point, I literally didn’t think I could handle another second of exerting energy. Physically drawn to walking out and going to sleep, unable to put a cranky, over awake child to sleep and feeling like I have lost my mom superpowers. But I didn’t, and she went to sleep happy and I got a shower and here I am, clean and tired and leaning on the kitchen counter stealing a moment to write and can’t wait to get to sleep with my love.

December 9, 2009

the pagan and the ritual

i love the earth, believe in energies and properties and vibrations and the goddess and the great balance and that we are all of the same thing. the presence of my daughter has increased my connection to my intentions, making them very present in my voice and actions. as such, christmas is in direct conflict with my (and my sweet lovin husband’s) direct beliefs. when I asked if we should bring her to see santa, he looked at me like I had 20 heads. all of the sudden, the idea of creating traditions with meanings strong enough to resonate with her past the commercial fat man and presents hype seemed overwhelming. how will i create a well adjusted child that doesnt believe in santa? does she have to not believe in him? how can we teach her that a shit ton of presents is excessive when we all know that grandparents exist to spoil their grandchildren and who am i to deny them of that? i am all for volunteering and think the easy excuse to volunteer at xmas time only is lame and insulting to participate in. i really dont want my daughter to be the kid on the playground that gives santa up to the other kids, crushing xmas and leading to many angry parent phone calls. I want to practice what we practice and be left alone. whats a pagan mom to do?

I have some issues with christmas. Im not into presents for everyone. Im not into formal meals. Im not into lying to my kid. im certainly not into malls and shopping. im really not into santas. I am into spending the day with family and traditions that make it a special day. This is where winter solstice resonates nicely. I love the idea of decorating my house with symbols that tell the story of rebirth and invite the right energies to promote celebration of the light. i do have a thing for the nutcracker  – my grandmother used to take me every year to see the story put on by a local community or highschool drama group.

when talking about the holiday plans this year, I realized I have graduated beyond not liking them because they are perversions of deeper meaning to getting a little excited about creating a space for good feelings and honoring those deeper connections for all of us. we can make the season our own. we do not have to give a ton of presents. instead, we can give one thats made or something like that. we can make the activity season long and let others have their christmas. maybe we do give it to grandparents.

breaking the cycle my friends! here it is again.  make it your own. you dont have to shop or you  can assign value your shopping so it benefits someone else. the commercialism and removal or cutesifying of the earth based elements to the season is gross. its cheap. its a hugely profitable attempt to replace the goddess with a system of values that inspire for the wrong reasons. its not the most wonderful time of the year. if you lived your life balanced then you would be intune that acclaimed magic that everyone talks about througout the year.

bring the goddess back to the solstice season. thats whats feminist. Id love to hear what you and your families do to apply their progressive parenting and lifeliving to the holiday season…please post away what brilliant, heartwarming and genuine traditions you have to the solstice season.

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