Auguries of Motherhood

Auguries of Motherhood*

To see the World in a Cheerio
And Heaven in a sticky hand
To hold tomorrow in your arms
As you brush away the sand.

Your hair goes gray

Time wrinkles your skin

A small price to pay

For their laughter and grins.
 

Oh Dishes! Laundry! My eternal foes!
But tiny fingers and tiny toes
Brush my cheek and tickle my nose 
A fair recompense for the messes and woes.

On muddy feet, behind a smile
Traveling every treacherous mile,
My heart now walks about the earth

A strange effect of childbirth.

On the altar you place your blood, sweat, and tears

A fresh tribute is demanded year after year,
But still you give and give some more.
To those tiny gods that you adore.

The paradox of Motherhood is this
It will leave you bleary-eyed and sore,
It will take every ounce of your heart and wits
But somehow give you so much more.

*apologies to William Blake

13 Ways to Remove Tree Sap From a Toddler

Listed in order of effectiveness:

1. Alcohol-based Hand Sanitizer
2. Nail Polish Remover
3. Crisco
4. Dish soap
5. Scrub with a nail brush
6. Scrub with steel wool
7. Find a shred of hard sharp plastic, scrape.
8. Find a two by four and scrape hand along the edge, try not to embed any splinters on the way.
9. Wonder aloud how your child got themselves covered in tree sap. Decide to go to the source and stop the problem before it starts again.
10. Find a giant blob of tree sap under the half-finished garage that has taken your contractor 4 months to begin framing. Tell your toddlers not to touch the tree sap.
11. Walk three steps away from the pile of sap to pick up several rusty nails in close proximity to your toddlers' feet. Turn back around 2 seconds later to find both toddlers covered in more sap. Do not curse out loud, this is important, they can hear you and will repeat whatever you say the next time your mother-in-law comes over. Deliver all toddlers to a warm bath and hand them an entire bottle of baby shampoo. Let them go to town with the bubble bath and hope the sap just goes away.
12. Compose an acerbic, witty, eloquent text of pure fury to your contractor for turning your back yard into a dust-bowl full of trip-hazards, sticky nightmares and tetanus-shots-waiting-to-happen, for months and months with no end in sight. Take a deep breath. Delete the text. Write another text that is positive, polite, patient, and full of understanding and kindly ask when he might be ready to proceed with the project. Please?
13. Move.

**This post is intended to be humorous, please do not try options 6-13 at home.**

Call Me Aurora

When I was 4, I used to walk around my little backyard in Mission Viejo, California, carrying a little woven basket and singing at the top of my lungs. If I could get my hands on our kitten, she would also be in the basket.

I would dance with an imaginary prince, squabble with my imaginary fairy guardians, and be surrounded by legions of imaginary, yet adoring, forest creatures.

When I was 4, I was also the oldest grandchild to my stately, poised, and formal grandparents.

Once my grandfather arrived at our house and found me in the backyard, mid-stroll through the forest, and called to me...

"Sara!"

*humph* I turned my head away.

"Sara?"

*Eye roll* I kept walking in the opposite direction.

"Sara!! Why didn't you answer me?"

I whirled around on my heals and declared in my sternest 4 year old voice,

"I AM NOT SARA! I AM AURORA!" I was indignant, I was incensed, I was infuriated. I spun back around and began a determined march to the far corner of the backyard.

How could he not see? I was clearly the cursed, yet noble, princess of all the land. His idiotic insistence that I admit to anything less was insulting. But he had broken my spell. The threads of imagination that I had woven around me were already unraveling, dissipating in the harsh light of reality. With bitterness, I watched my kingdom crumble around me.

Grandaddy was taken aback. No one had spoken to him like that in living memory. It is possible that no one has spoken to him like that ever since.

This story has gone down in family lore as a tale of naivete and spunk. Sort of the same way you'd laugh at a story about a kid who challenged a polar bear to a fight armed with nothing but a kitten in a basket.

"Is this kid insanely brave? Or just insane?"

I love that story, but for different reasons. For me it is a story about a time when I had the courage to create for myself the world that I wanted to live in. I knew who I was and the type of girl I wanted to be. And I was willing to stand up to anyone who wanted to label me as anything else.

So 30 years later, I'm looking for that little girl again. It's not that I haven't spent the last 30 years building a life that I love, or that I'm a wallflower and a doormat, because neither of those things are true. What I love about the 4 year old me most was the fearlessness, the unapologetic sincerity, and the immersive power of my imagination.

So welcome to "Call Me Aurora." It is a place where I will pursue truth, honesty, authenticity, and fearlessness. I hope that by so doing, I will contribute something to building a better world that we can all live in.