Stay-at-home parent - Daddy style

When I was pregnant with my son I read a novel about a woman who's husband lost his job and she became the breadwinner. Leaving her role as a stayathome, she watched her husband take over and run the household in a very different way. It was more chaotic, and playful. 

The woman in that book struggled with the concept far less than I did two months ago when that fiction became my reality. Any hope I had for a return to full-time motherhood is laughable, as we begin to understand the path that I may attain in my career. The choice was simply whether to be a good parent, after that there was no choice: my hubby needs to stay home with our children.

The family dynamics when the dad is at home are foreign to us. We do not have a model to work with. I suspect, like most things, there are many books and even movies we could find on the subject. In the meantime we are floating in peculiar and inviting waters... And I guess I'm on the lookout for a shark.

Return to Solace

From tragedy springs truth. Blessed are those who can return to solace, in silence.

 I spend too much time indoors, being busy. There is so much to do that when I wake I lay in bed categorizing the list of what must be achieved. Only in extreme moments do I run to the forest for contemplation, and reflection.

Today I find myself in the expected misery of the past repeated. I did not choose this path blindly, as I have walked it before. Of the paths I have wandered, this is the least treacherous, but it is not perfect. There are dark roads ahead that I cannot change, only endure, as I have before. There are forces in this chosen life of mine that I cannot change. There are other people in this life that will react to this difficult stretch ahead as they will.... A forest mouse(?) rummages at my feet! A first for me at age 32:). There are few firsts in a path well traveled. I pause gratefully.

So here I sit, munching on carrots and truth with a growing sense of pleasure springing from an awful beginning. I woke with trepidation and find myself stronger in this contemplative state. (note: it is a mole! So tiny...)

 I will not bow to the past problems, nor will I run. I will wait patiently, finding comfort in this place, in this body and mind. We are always, ultimately, alone. We cannot expect others to know us, or fix us. We really cannot expect anything from others. And yet, my head is filled with notes of gratitude that I must send. Notes to people in my present and past who have gifted me with the thoughts and ideas that offer comfort for me today. Giving random thanks should be a part of everyday life, but these thoughts are sadly not a daily occurrence.

Here I sit, high on a rock formation in the middle of the Enos river...the breeze is cold and equally delicious to the honey crisp apple in my hand. The water is roaring softly around me, and I am grateful that I don't need to pee, as this sound makes that sensation unbearable! I am almost four months pregnant now. Far along enough to be secure in my plans for our future, but not so pregnant that I am constantly reminded of how I share this body with another soul. I am plump, but not obvious, forming life every moment, but not tangibly. It is a rare time of being with child, but not overwhelmingly so.

For a while, I tried to go to church on Sundays. I have found my holy place, far from the sermons of others. Wisdom does indeed lie within me, no matter the words or thoughts of others. I am safe within my strong body and mind. I vow to return to this place, at every chance I have. I will bring my children here, so that when their roads become rocky, they will have this place to come to for peace, if they see fit. This was the gift my father gave me, those many days we spent in silence, crunching our way through the scarce natural pockets mankind has left alone. Unbeknownst to me, he was taking his time to find this inner peace, with his children in tow...I must do the same. Instead of falling to the pressure of their constant needs, I will displace them from the unnatural and bring them here (whether they like it or not).

 I have written before and will write again, it is unfortunate that I must be so sad and lonely to find myself. But I am grateful for the ability to do so, all the same.

Occupy My Home

The Occupy movement has been broken up in most cities at this point, primary as a measure of public safety. There is a new arm of the movement that just tickles my heart, as I believe they are honing in on the real targets in this injustice.

With so many Americans fighting to keep their homes despite foreclosure, a few have smartly invited the Occupy movement into their homes for a sit-in against Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac. There are encampments surrounding individual homes which for me, means that the participants will be able to remain more cleanly and comfortable, and they will really start pissing people off, starting with the home-owners associations.

One other note of the movement to date: they advocated a move your money day, when hundreds of thousands removed their capital from the larger banks that received a bailout, and placed the money into local-owned banks. Unfortunately, it looks as though that will back-fire, as the majority of accounts lost were a negative on the banks books, and thus it was a small gift to them to walk away.

The march goes on.

Occupy Passion, Abandon Apathy

The Occupy movement is gaining momentum throughout the world, and every day the resistance continues. The media are paying increasing attention to the protestors, who are vallientely returning to the sites in each city after enduring pepper spray, battons, and violent attacks as the United State rarely sees.

I love the battalion of video cameras pointed at every member of our police as they bludgen, and rip at the human chains being created in parks, and on government property. The resistance is exciting to a degree that I haven't felt until Barak Obama was elected. I doubt he will make me feel that way again, and the Occupy movment is carrying the legacy of hope for my generation. I am so grateful they are banding together and voicing the obvious at a volumn that government must listen to. Thank the Lord they have the time to shout this from the rooftops for those of us who are unable.

My perspective is unique in that I work in direct contact with the 1%. While we are all on the food chain, my position is in direct support to two very valuable gentlemen. I support their ability to generate more of what they have so abundantly: money. They are generous and kind, but I have not had the pleasure of speaking to their political viewpoints. I would wager they are more on the right then I, but their tipping skills are the best gage I have at the moment.

Driving through downtown smalltown USA, the strong (and few) tents sit precariously amongst the norm. They are insulated at this point: November has finally brought the cold. Slightly damp from the morning ice, they shone in front of a government building and I smiled in reverance to those fighting this fight. It is so important, and so worthwhile. It is from a distance I will remain, but their message is worth purpetuating.

Finally, I feel the passion.