Archive for March, 2009

The Toybox

Tuesday, March 31st, 2009

My son called ‘MUM!’ from the toy basket this afternoon. He could see what he wanted through the mesh sides, but couldn’t extract it through the holes in the fabric. I laid the basket on its side so as he could crawl in and pick up the desired toy.

Ten minutes later (an eternity in the world of an 9 month old baby) he is still picking up each toy one by one, shaking it, biting it and throwing it in a pile beside him. Initially he wanted a book, or so he thought. Faced with the many options of his whole toy collection he isn’t so sure. Each time he appraises a toy he is refining his choice.

Don’t want anything hard.

Has to rattle.

Should be easy to hold.

Light enough to carry around.

In the end he settled for a plush lion with rattles for paws and a handle.

He had no judgment about the process of finding the perfect toy. Didn’t feel guilty for discarding bulky, hard toys. Took pleasure in trying each toy out one by one. Not at all disappointed when this too wasn’t the perfect toy.

I wonder when I lost my ability to refine my desires and choices so effortlessly. When did I become invested in choosing perfectly the first time? How much happier would I be, would you be, if you gave yourself permission, time and space to try it all out, discover what you really want and then make the perfect choice. For now at least.

The lion is already discarded. He discovered his shoelaces.

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Where work, love & life all meet.

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

Intersected’s Jamie Varon recently announced her first blog contest. The following is my humble submission.

It took me a while to figure out which way was up. It’s hard to get your bearings when your life exists as 3 hour chunks. Even harder to feel at the end of the day that I had achieved anything when my full time job was learning to breastfeed.

My pregnancy was a surprise to me. Well not really a surprise, I did get the ‘birds and the bees’ talk. Perhaps unplanned serendipitous event is a better phrase. An anxiety inducing, scary as hell phase for a compulsive planner like myself. It took me the first trimester to figure out what to do next.

Then it dawned on me; plan.

Oh I planned on having kids when I was 25, debt free and in a job with paid maternity leave. I didn’t plan on vomiting every day for 9 months, missing best friend’s 25th birthday because I was asleep by 8pm and repeatedly leaving my wallet in the freezer. I needed a new plan altogether.

I spent 9 months doing everything to prepare myself for the un-preparable. I meditated on an uncomplicated birth. I painted antique baby furniture (with non-toxic, low VOC paints). I spent hours buying tiny baby socks and pre-washing baby clothes. How could I have known that the tiny bundle I was carrying was a catalyst; that he would redefine the boundaries of everything in my world.

Yes. It took me a while to figure out which way was up. Even longer to discern what success and forward movement looked like. It took the courage to let go of KPI’s, my identity as a worker, my body insecurities and to acknowledge that the lines had blurred. There is no life, work or love anymore. They are intersected & intertwined.

My life is my work and I love it!

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A woman is made

Saturday, March 28th, 2009

“Woman is made, not born” – Simone deBeauvoir

My most recent experience of being, amongst other things, a new mother I have begun to question my definition of womanhood. More accurately; beyond the scientific definition of ‘adult female human’ what is a woman? (as opposed to a girl, not as opposed to a man)

It struck me when I realised it had been over 18 months since I had had a period (not that I’m complaining) that my old definition of woman was connected to menstruation. Now in the same moment I realised the folly of my idea because menopausal women, pregnant women and some female athletes have very little use for tampons.

So I started thinking ‘what makes a woman’. I didn’t get very far so I surveyed my network. Most had a feeling of ‘womanhood’ but difficulty explaining it; some had no idea at all. Those whose responses were clearest spoke of deeply felt womanly experiences and were strikingly different. So I let it ferment for a few weeks.

Today, dancing around the living room singing Pink at the top of my lungs I think I decided what ‘womanhood’ means to me. A woman embodies the feminine principle of grace. It is not about what she does, but the quality with which she does it. Womanhood is earned; it is the result of walking through the fire and coming out stronger in resolve and softer in temperament. We own our womanhood more with every tear, every wrinkle and every stretch-mark. We enact our womanhood with every compliment accepted, every hearty laugh and every time we make love. I am not saying all women are the same, but that more often than not we are alike.

What does womanhood mean to you?

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