A moment

Still reading..."Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. Wonderful. I may be getting it, finally. I tried meditating while holding Babyboy, who was asleep. I felt a connection to something. It felt like there was an energy running through me. And I realized this "thing," be it God, or connection to our own spirit, our soul, it will be different for everyone. The awakening will fit each person. I can never expect R to see things in the same light that I do. It is impossible. I cannot force his awakening, although I can nudge him by suggesting books on that path.

I have been contemplative lately, wanting to write, but not sure what. I have been writing in my journal, remember that good old paper thing--so old fashioned. I love the feel of the pen, the look of the ink, how the white space fills up with my thoughts. Is writing like talking to spirit? Talking to self. I have used it as a form of communication with my self. Who is the reader, the writer?

I think art is a form of communication also. I certainly feel connected to something when I paint.

And we got the dining table set up. R and teenage girl worked on that together. Something about earning money for a haircut. It looks nice in our old house. I'm glad we kept it.

The birthday bbq was a success. Only family. Awkward with my mother and sister, but not too bad. Everyone got along and seemed to be content, if not happy.

We didn't get approved for a loan. No new house. Not yet. Maybe next year. But we have been working on the landscaping of or old Victorian. R has gone crazy on plants, spending a small fortune. We have been putting in a lot of xeric plants that should do well in our climate. That is the plan. The yard is looking nice. Babygirl follows me around with her shoes until I help her put them on so she can run around outside. I enjoy wandering around the yard just looking at the plants. We bought a patio table, but the squirrels are eating the cushions on the furniture. Or, they are shredding the pillows, pulling out the stuffing and running off with it to build posh squirrel nests. I'm developing a strong dislike towards the cute little woodland creatures.

Oh, times up...here's the little one now with her shoes and jacket.

Dining room table

So we got our "stimulus payment" and we have been spending like good little Americans. It's almost all gone now. We bought some much needed food, and some diapers for the babies and I think we put gas in the cars. Okay, we did get a larger dining table and chairs, which will allow the entire family to sit and eat, not just four of us. But of course, R is feeling guilty about that "impulse purchase" as he calls it and talking about returning it so we can save the money. Hmmm. I'd really like a new table. I'm tired of looking at the hand-me-down table (circa early eighties) that I inherited from an old friend and have been dragging around with me for almost twenty years. Wouldn't it be nice to join this era and have something that was almost, dare I say it, stylish? It won't go with our vintage leather couches from Goodwill, but if eclectic is in, at least we can add something modern. We'll see...

And the newly turned fifteen year old has Saturday school this weekend. I'm so proud. It's like "the Breakfast Club" in real life. A reminder of my youth. Now, if only she can get those two D's and F up to something passable. She is holding on strongly to a C-. What more could a mother want?

When the babies cry, they cry in unison. Why is that? And I get the difficult task of deciding who to comfort first. Now I've tried to hold both, but when Babygirl is screaming, there is no holding the little boy. She demands all of my attention. It is hard.

Babyboy has been spitting up like crazy, but with the medicine and the rice formula, he managed to gain some weight, which is wonderful. We are trying another medicine. The pediatrician thinks it's reflux. I know he has a hard time with the eating. He still spits up my breast milk. It's too thin I guess. Can't add rice cereal to that, unless I pump. Don't have a pump, so there it is then. Hopefully the new medicine will work better and I can continue to feed him both breast milk and formula.

The other teenager is turning eighteen this week. We made it and can have that collective sigh of relief now. Or I can let out that breath I have been holding for the last four years. She may or may not finish high school, but I guess that is her issue now. I hoped her life would go a little smoother than mine, but she wants, insists on making her own mistakes or, I'm sorry, choices. At least I won't be liable for those choices. We are going to attempt another bbq/party this weekend. I wonder how this one will turn out. The last one for the other girl was less than perfect (big fight, lots of attitude, almost called it off, uncomfortable silence with her friends) and I really wanted to get in the car and go for a long drive. Older girl maybe wants to invite the boyfriend, which I am still having issues with.

And we are moving furniture around, trying to make space for the dining table that we may or may not keep. My house looks like we just moved in. I've been trying to get rid of things, reminders of the past and a life I don't have anymore. I wonder if I should toss my cds? Music, like art used to mean so much to me. And now...I never listen to anything but the crying babies and the words of hatred that flow from my daughter's mouth.

Life sure doesn't look like I thought it would. Can I go back and do it again?

Timeless moments

Time has a way of getting away from you, doesn't it? Before I know it, another week has passed. Well, I only know it has because R has another day off. Every day is pretty much the same. I try to keep the little ones fed, clean and content, and hope the crying is at a minimum. I look forward to bedtime, and at the same time I don't, wondering how many times I will have to get up in the night.

And my days go on and on.

Interesting that I am reading this book, A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle (yes, one of Oprah's recommended books), and I am at this place where the subject is time. Time as we know is not real. There is only now. Of course all of the enlightened know this and say this in all of their writings. I have yet to grasp it. No past. At least no experience of the past. Only thoughts. Or memories. Our interpreted reality. How much of it is real? No future. There will never be a tomorrow. Not that we can know. There is only now, this one moment in time.

As I put the babies through the diaper change assembly line, I wonder about my moments. Didn't I just have this moment? How many poopy diapers do I change in a day? A week? Is it time to feed the little man again? Oh good, a second to sit down and practice that good old moment of meditation. Today I meditated on Dr. Phil. Nothing enlightening in that. A wasted moment perhaps. Oh well, maybe tomorrow...oops, there will be no more tomorrows...I can never get there.

There is only today. Only this moment to relish my beautiful little babies and hold them close. Before I know it this moment will have slipped away too, and they will be teenagers who hate me.

I know what I'm supposed to do. Live each day like it's the last. Be conscious. Let go of the past and let the future unfold as it will. Give up and give in to the dance that is this life.Wring every bit of living out of each moment, take it all in. Savor it all, the feelings, the colors of the earth, the interactions with others, the sounds, the smells...the moments.

Yeah, I'll give that a try.