The Governor informed me three days ago that they did yoga at his school as he carried on with his handful of toy cars and mish-mash of trains. Apparently some of the trains were on their way to "do yoga" and had just stopped to pick up a couple of more coaches along the way.
I was fascinated with the thought of preschoolers in orderly rows, striking poses such as "The Cat" or "The Bridge" as peaceful music played in the background, so I asked him to kindly demonstrate some of his "yoga" for me.
Apparently a three and a half's year old's "yoga" is drastically different from Sivananda Yoga or Hatha Yoga or really anything you think of when you think of the word "yoga." What followed after my request was my son traveling around the living room floor, alternately striking some amorphos pose with his leg up and head on the floor, and then lying on his back, with his legs stretched up to his head. He would run, and then sort of "tumble" into his next pose, and keep on going. I didn't know yoga was so...harried and frantic.
He tried to do "yoga" in the bath last night. I told him it wasn't such a good idea. One of those "hazardous to your health" things.
I probably could use some meditative space myself. I am gearing up for an in-home jewelry show, my first. I will try and take some pics if I get the chance, but I've got some other prep work to do, namely emailing invitation and sewing pink felt pouches in which people to take home their goodies. I'm mostly interested in covering my costs--If I sell 2 or 3 necklaces and the same amount of earrings and 2 purses (out of the 8 that I made so far), I should be good to go.
thanks for the comments, ladies. i wasn't trying to attract attention, i had just thought about why i hadn't been so active on Digs and that was my natural conclusion. man, i was surprised that anyone besides the spam bots actually read here. the internet can sometimes be a very surprising thing.
The Governor's big thing these days? Being "lonely." As in, "mommy come play trucks with me, I'm lonely. Or, "mommy and daddy aren't eating anymore, i'm the lonely one eating." On the plus side, though, he asked me if I wanted to be "by myself" to have a little quiet breakfast while he played. This one, he is good. He respects the concept of "me time." But that's probably just the identity transfer thing talking again. He's actually standing right here, stark naked, having just taken a bath. He says hello.
i have a sort of selfish and silly confession that requires a little rambling before i actually get to the point, so bear with me. i don't feel at home as i used to on Digs, and so i very rarely post there. i guess i am at a different stage in my life now, even from the new mommies--who i dearly love and on whom i wish the best--who post their respective quandries and questions. and further, i don't feel comfortable in even going near the TTC thread because of my own situation and the way in which The Governor entered my life. Is the fact that I got pregnant accidentally in and of itself something that stands in the way of me having any dialogue with someone who is TTC? I feel like it is. For what it's worth, my life isn't perfect and there are so, so, so many things that I could vent about or talk about...but I feel like no one would really be able to empathize. Or maybe, my talking about those things and even having problems with preschool illnesses or temper tantrums or still post-pregnancy weight issues makes people want to stay away, I don't really know.
Lola once asked me whether it was strange for me because I was the first Digster to ever get pregnant while actively posting. I never had a Digs shower. I never got to commune with anyone about teething/nursing/walking/talking. And now, The Governor is past all of those stages and now he has all of these new things, like Spiderman underwear and potty pooping bribery and obstinance in learning his sounds (although he is very enthusiastic about his numbers and artwork). But there's no one on Digs to really talk to about those things. I mean I can talk about that, and people will say, "oh that's nice," but it's not really the same thing. And furthermore, Conan and I have had this extended discussion about whether or not we were actually going to have a second child--and deep down inside I know that that is a very real possibility. So I have my own little feelings of loss that are a little different. But to post that in a place where there is a lot of people going through significant hardships to even get pregnant would seem, I don't know, insignificant. And it makes me feel a little bit selfish, because it's not even set in stone yet.
I look around at all of the things I have and all of the things that I have accomplished in the past 4 plus years that I have accomplished since I joined Digs. By nature of all of those things, I've become a different person-not better, just different. I don't identify anymore with grad school decisionmaking, getting engaged and planning a wedding--and now having a bitty baby in the house. Yes, sure I can weigh in or answer questions or whatever, but I just don't get the same things out of posting anymore. To be honest, I'm not really sure what that means.
For the most part, I'll still be visiting and part of any and all blog rings, etc., but as for Digs itself, I think for now I just visit and pop in occasionally.
fear ye the wrath of the fuzzy wool sweater; it beckons from yonder closet with sweet promises of warmth as your cold bare shoulders shiver in the morning chills. seduce me not, oh ivory sheath of knitted beguilement, for as the day grows dark and the shadows lengthen, ghostlike wisps from your being jettison in the air around me. you cast your web of wonder white on the black of my office chair. you shall not call me from your cavelike surrounds, aside the BCBG slides of summers yore and the bootcut jeans of many Saturday moons! tempt me not to glide your lofty threads against me, leaving me to wrest fuzzballs from my cuffs. oh sweater! only packing tape or a defuzzing comb shall tame you.
the size 4T Spidey undies are orbiting the perimeter of our dryer right now, comingling with Conan's jeans, the buttons of which i can hear pinging against the metal sides of the dryer basin. it's quiet right now, but 3 hours ago our house was filled with the outrageous giggles of a toddler boy who just discovered his father hiding in the far reaches of a too-small closet. when it was his turn to hide, the aforementioned tot could not surpress his laughter, which made him particularly easy to sniff out.
maybe Saturday nights are for bottles of Syrah under Christmas lights on the back patio of a dining establishment for some, or for sweat drops glistening on your skin as the bass sends you undulating. but for me, Saturday nights like this are pure bliss.
i re-opened my comments, so please leave me a note. it's lonely in my little corner of the interweb.
i've become one of those people that walks around in T@rget with an earbud in her ear that's attached by a long wire to...you guessed it...something that has a keypad and fits in your pocket. yep, that's me. cliche. trite. haven't i always been, though?
Conan cancelled our landline. We figured between corporate discounts/free service, we save $150 per month if we did it. It's a little strange because I've always had a landline, but since I'm a company girl, I might as well do it. Why not?
french silk pie: it's like sweet chocolate butter. and very tasty on an oreo(TM)-cookie crust. almost too tasty. when 2/5ths of it sits in your nice, shiny stainless steel fridge because you made it for your husband's birthday, you can't resist taking a sliver after dinner. it's like saying "f8ck you" to that half-hour you spent on the treadmill. i hate it and love it at the same time.
i have a long, drivel-filled entry in my "private diary" for those of you who know where it is. it is 34% wondering-out loud, 52% trying to put it all in context, and 14% pure and utter crap, the kind you don't want to read, but you end up staring at for longer than you intended. that's why blogs are so popular.
i'm in a creative deficit. i had my stores of creative energy completely sapped by the holidays, and can't get myself enough energy to do something so simple as to cut a pattern for a skirt, or even go buy beads or clasps or even new wire. i'm out of French earring hooks, lobster clasps, toggle clasps, and a number of other things. i've had in the back of my mind a floating gemstone chip collar necklace for the longest time, but i simply can't decide whether i want the "invisible" parts to be slender sterling silver chain or clear thread. thoughts anyone? opening up for comments.
there hasn't been a lot of writing on my pw'ed journal, mostly because i am lacking that seething anger that spawned the energy to write there. life has become infinitely less stressful, and i'm now just soaking up experience at my new gig and enjoying being around sane people. some days i feel like a complete idiot--like yesterday when i client asked me the simple question of "what do you suggest?," and i was completely dumbfounded. rendered speechless.
but even on those days, i feel 300% times better than my "good" days at my old gig.