motherhood

My Own Middle Place

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

Please tell me why
when I read books like The Middle Place
I think of you and want to scream,
to relive my childhood:
I want a do-over

I don’t want the rants and raves
the banging on doors
the sharks in your eyes
swimming at me with their
hatchets of hatred

I want a mother who could cuddle
with me on the couch,
read me stories while I curl up,
thumb in mouth,
and before the sun even sets
share a moment of joy with me

not one who’s so obsessed
with the food that has to
go on the table that she
trades her smiles for sour looks
before even closing the door at work

Please tell me why I can’t have
that imaginary childhood,
why I cannot gratify my memories
with some sort of happiness
that will last beyond
the closing of this book,

a place where I am comforted,
I am safe,
a place where I know my mother
loves me,
a place where she has shed her tiger’s skin
and wrapped her arms
around my aching soul.

Every Moment

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

I remember nights without sleep
and cries without consolation
diaper bags and strollers a must
for even the simplest outings

now their once-wispy hair is
tied back in tight braids and
their cries are aimed at each other
with bitter words to match.

a blur it’s been, baby years gone,
relinquished first to toddlerhood
and now we’re full-on childhood
their lives zipping by me

before I can even sit on the swing
with their daddy and reminisce
the time that is happening now,
they will be all grown up.

(I will remember this when I
hold my hand to a feverish forehead,
when they pitch a fit and act their age,
when I think every moment is too much)
because every. moment. counts.

Adrenaline

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

it’s amazing how the smallest thing
can pump a mother’s adrenaline—
a scream, a weak call, a fever
(not my own, but the listless look
of a sick child)

it rushes in, takes control
of my body until it transforms
to hand-jittering fear.
the moment passes
but as long as I’m a mother
the adrenaline will be there
hiding like fog on my soul,
waiting for its next chance
to smother me as I reach
to protect her.

March Daughters

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

Isabella

I thought by seven you wouldn’t want
to wear those fancy, “spinny” dresses that,
at age two, caused you to flop on the floor
in tireless tantrums, insistent upon wearing
a dress—OR ELSE—so much so that
even if I pulled out a pair of pants
or a onesie for your baby sister,
you expanded into a volcano of screams.

Yet, on a day when you are free from school,
I know I will still see you emerge from your room
clad in the neck-to-toe Victorian style dress
with the gold Christmas paint on the navy blue
background, the embroidered buttons, and
the ballet shoes over your tights, spinning just
as happily as if you were still two
(oh how I love you now but still miss year two).

Mythili

we have no need for gifts in our house.
you create your own.

finding on the floor of my car
a bright yellow foam brain
(product of my school district’s
ridiculous expenditures),
you snatched it up,
reclaimed it as a mouse,
carried it to the park
and named her Lola

Lola hurt herself falling
off the seesaw
and jumped for joy dashing down
the twisty slide,
settling in next to your mouth
(fingers inside)
for your nighttime soother
(of course under blankey)
every night, causing panicked screams
when misplaced,
your beloved, favorite found toy.

we have no need for gifts in our house.
we have you.

Riona

at Mary Poppins, in between
your animated reactions to the
bright colors (“it’s turning green now”
“look, Mama, it’s bright red!”)
and the tap dancing (“see all the
chimney sweepers in black shoes?”)
my friend Hanna counted fifteen times
your turning to me and whispering,
“I wuv you Mama,”
making my heart melt more
than you in your pretty dress,
your first (perfectly obedient) night
at the theatre,
your first musical,
your first time walking everywhere
I once rolled or carried you,
because no matter how many times
you say it to me,
I feel as if it is my first time
hearing your lovely words.

I’ve Been There

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

he has carried her in the crook of his arm
to the point of exhaustion for both
yet
even long distance I can hear her cries,
I can feel the stress rising up over phone lines
and all I can reply is, “I’ve been there.”

she handles it as flippantly as a new mother can,
mentioning only her concerns about the schedule,
the lack of sleep,
the looming return to work,
but he is not so sure
and when she tells me she must go
it is not because of the crying (now settled)
(innocent, newborn) baby,
but because he is stressed.

and all I can reply is, “I’ve been there,”
knowing the words will
never be enough to
cover the overwhelming burden
(of love)
that comes with becoming parents

20 Rules to Live By

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

For myself and my daughters.

1. Enjoy life. It’s too short not to.
2. Set goals for yourself. Put them in writing so you’ll follow through.
3. Choose your dreams wisely.
4. Motherhood is the most important job in the world. Remember that when your kids have been bickering all day and you just want to shove them in front of the TV.
5. Be open-minded. Accept people for who they are and don’t waste your time trying to change them.
6. Eat healthily, but enjoy treats. Life needs a bit of sweetness.
7. Make time for yourself and your personal pleasures no matter how much else you have to do.
8. Honesty is always best. Two-faced behavior is atrocious.
9. Exercise regularly. You might not get sick all winter. Or all year.
10. Be a leader for the next generation.
11. Protect the earth. It’s the only one we have.
12. Give your time and money and clothing to charity. And not for tax purposes.
13. Sleep at least seven hours every night.
14. Reflect on your mistakes, but don’t dwell on them. Change who you are because of them.
15. A good marriage can keep your life on the right track. A bad one will shove you off into the ditch. Marry the right person.
16. Don’t force other people to believe what you believe. Just listen. And share.
17. Education is never ending and is the best way to keep your mind open.
18. Love should be the focus of all you do.
19. Travel. It will open your eyes to more than you could ever imagine.
20. Keep your friends close and be for them everything that you want them to be for you.

Six-Penny Happiness

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

A lackluster errand to the bank
(located inside the grocery store)
seems tedious as I sit in the driver’s seat
of my compact car with three
antsy girls who unbuckle themselves,
scratch the back dash,
bang on the window
as I count quarters that have
spilled out of their paper sleeve
(I lost $1.50 in the depths
of Hyundai oblivion)

They are seven, five, three,
and don’t attempt to contain
the excitement that bursts at
the thought of what is to come:
a free kid’s cookie for each,
a slice of orange meant to entice
paying customers (that they will
suck the juice from and abandon),
and the pennies they’ve discovered
(in their search for quarters) that
will pay for six rides on the horse.

They take turns, maneuvering from
tail to saddle to head to leg,
the shiny plastic horse never
moaning under their ample weight,
and every time another penny is inserted,
a new wave of thrilled screams erupts,
making this six-cent endeavor (this
tedious, hideous errand) worth more to me
(to them) than a million dollars that
I will never have to count (or spend)
to bring them happiness.

Swallowing Our Sadness

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

After two gloriously quiet hours,
they are ready for the flourless cake
that this time (after multiple envious complaints)
I have made just for them.

They emerge from the family room
after watching The Velveteen Rabbit,
tears streaming down their
reddened-with-sadness cheeks.

“What’s the matter, don’t you want cake?”
Daddy asks, his voice dripping with confusion.
“The movie was so sad.” Sobs erupt
from their throats and trap any more anxious words.

“Really? What’s it about?” he asks, never having seen it.
As I begin to describe the rabbit becoming Real
(Isabella chimes in about the high fever)
their tears find their way into my own eyes.

I look at the three pained faces of my girls
who for the first time have been touched to tears
by a movie, and I wonder if I’m crying because of
the story or because they’re now old enough to understand it.

Either way, as I slice up the cake
that they take tiny bites of and abandon,
swallowing their sadness with delectability,
I am not able to swallow my own sadness.

Before I have even had a chance to stop time,
I have a houseful of growing-up girls
who reminded me today how precious
every bite of cake, every rite of passage, can be.

Ten Random Thoughts

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

1. Though I thought I really had earned that 99-cent bag of Cheetos after my eight-mile run, I decided, as always, that it’s better to share it with my girls. Everything is.
2. Libraries are the best places I know. From browsing through the online catalog and reserving books and CDs to their wide variety of audio books and DVDs, I can think of few places where our tax money is better spent. It’s a shame more people don’t think like me.
3. A frugalista’s version of a car wash is to squeegee all the windows at the gas station. It’s not like we need to see out of the doors or the hood, so why do those need to be cleaned? Ever?
4. Having a handful of kids’ DVDs can make the weekend much more relaxing.
5. Why didn’t I think five years sooner to give the girls a bath BEFORE dinner? That way they’re mostly ready for bed before we even eat and their hair dries on its own. Duh.
6. Having second-degree-burned myself as a child (resulting in plastic surgery and permanent scarring), now when I make a quick burn mistake I have catlike reflexes, rushing to the sink and running my hand in ice-cold water, preventing another scar. Or, everything happens for a reason.
7. iTunes and iPods are the greatest modern inventions. In ten minutes I made the perfect playlist for running with an iPod that fits in my tiny yoga-pants pocket. Remember the days of mixed tapes and Walkmans?
8. Always go for the sale items. Today I saved 30%. Tomorrow I’ll have money to pay my bills. So simple.
9. Cheap wine (my favorite is Barefoot) tastes as good as expensive wine if you share it with someone you love.
10. The only thing I remember from that Life’s Little Instructions book my mom gave me when I graduated high school: “Marry the right person. It will determine 90% of your happiness in life.” Almost twelve years later, I must concur.

Runaway

/ lovizmytrio / 5 Comments

Red-and-white-striped shirted
Teddy bear in hand
(his name later became Todd),
I threw an outfit into a bag
and stomped out of the house,
walking up the hill to the only
place I knew to go—
the elementary school.

With my bull horns
shining, I didn’t even look back
until I heard the rumbling
of the rusty blue Datsun
and my mother’s
screaming-banshee voice
telling me to get inside.

I don’t recall what the
original argument was over,
just that she had
raised her voice one
too many times that day,
and my six-year-old patience
had come to a bitter end.

At dinner that night,
she tried to hug me
and sternly whispered in my ear,
“Don’t you ever do that again,”
but her arms were stiff boards,
her skin was as cold as the wind on my walk,
her voice was icy glass,
and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.