onceinagreenmoon

[onceinagreenmoon]

[onceinagreenmoon]

[onceinagreenmoon]

Dear Scarlett, It has been so long since I've written that I cannot recall the last time I bothered. Much has changed since then. The dust is settling, so to speak, since your dad and I split. It's not something I wanted to put into words because the last 2 years have been a hot mess. Between the custody battle and moving back home, it has been a rough ride for the both of us. I have made a lot of mistakes. Fortunately, your dad and I are ok with each now. For a while it was all nastiness and threats, but we're past that. The two of us living with your grandma for a whole year was not great either. It broke me having to start over from scratch and become a single mom. If there's one thing you'll learn, little daughter, it's that sometimes you'll break but life will go on. Your family and loved ones will always be there to build you back up, but you are responsible for your own happiness. You will learn that life is a hard task master and the only thing you can do is adjust and move forward. I want to apologize to you for having wasted the last year on a man who could not, would not, love you like his own daughter. Nothing makes me feel lower than knowing I assumed he would learn to love you because you're an extension of myself, and I gave him a lot of chances he didn't deserve. That was wrong of me. You are my precious baby and my number 1 priority, and I will not put you through that again. We are alone now in this 2 bedroom home. We have a routine. I wake you up in the morning to get you ready for school. I wait with you outside for the school bus to arrive. I pick you up from your grandma's when I get off work. We go home and watch cartoons or play outside, have dinner, take a bath, talk to your dad, brush your teeth, and then argue for about 20 minutes about what an appropriate bed time is. I'm comfortable. Our relationship with each other is healing. You are such a brilliant child. It takes my breath away how smart you are. You're funny and sassy and argumentative and I'd like to think you get all that from me. And once you become cognizant of how your existence affects the world, it's my belief that you won't be as much of an asshole. I haven't written because I wasn't being the best mom I could be and I didn't want to admit it to myself or anyone else. But all the pieces have been put back together and I'm ready to repair the damage done and move forward. I love you, little daughter, and I can't wait to grow with you.

[onceinagreenmoon]

The day I gave up on music

Dear Scarlett, One day you will ask me about the treble clef tattoo on my foot. In that moment I will fondly recall the day I took my music theory book to a tattoo parlor and told the tattoo artist that I wanted that treble clef. I will remember the excitement and sense of purpose I held dear as I embarked on my journey into the world of music. I was eighteen, I was talented, and I had the next four years to immerse myself in the education of my favorite thing in the world. And then I will remember that I gave it all up. I tell everyone who asks why I didn't finish school that I gave up because I got pregnant. It's taken a long time to admit it to myself, but that's not why I didn't finish. I know plenty of musicians who became mothers and still carried on with their careers in music. I did not carry on because, simply put, I am a coward. I have no recollection of how exactly it happened, which teacher I was with, or whether or not I had obtained the information by being sneaky. Did I get a peak by rubbernecking or did I hastily rifle through my file, left open on the desk, while the teacher left the room momentarily? Honestly, I don't remember any of those details. I just remember seeing the scores for my audition. AVERAGE. The comments were sparse, and clearly unimpressed. How did I even make it into the program? I felt at that moment what can only be described as stinging disappointment. I told myself that I would try harder, I would practice practice practice until I was just as good as these other vocalists. I would spend all of my free time in the practice rooms, I would be skilled, and no one would dare utter the word average in my presence. But I don't need to tell you that that's not what happened. I spent my nights at a very demanding job, busting ass trying to make ends meet. I would then struggle to wake up in the morning and drag myself to school, where I carried the knowledge that I was inherently average. The vast majority of my classmates were privileged enough to come from backgrounds that allowed them to focus solely on their educations and not have to worry about whether or not they would have a roof over their heads. My teachers were constantly expressing their disappointment in me for not trying harder. This went on for three years before I got pregnant and dropped out. and I was relieved. Every day had felt like a new , crushing defeat. I didn't love music the way I had used to . I resented it, for making me feel inferior, that I couldn't overcome the same struggles that so many people before me had overcome. I really and truly was the very definition of average. And I now see so many of my fellow classmates coming into their own, joyously nestling into their chosen careers and thriving. And every time I think of my time in college, I am ASHAMED. I decided when I was 12 years old that music was the only path for me. Now, the only time I sing the songs I learned in college is in the shower. I stand before the piano by the door, my fingers hovering over the keys gathering dust. Sometimes I plunk out a I-IV-V7-I progression, but then I put on my shoes and grab my keys and hurry out the door to go to a job I hate. My family, bless them, assure me that I am a great singer and should go back to school. But I know what the assessment of my musical peers would be. Lack of breath control, piss poor diction, bad posture, diminished range. I don't have the courage at this time to go back and try again. It is my hope, little daughter, that you will love music with the same fervor that I did. I will happily teach you everything that I've learned. But I would urge you to do what you love without seeking the validation of your peers. If you really love something, do no concern yourself with whether or not people think you're talented. Do it because it brings you happiness, because you cannot contain it within yourself, and because you want to share that feeling with the world. But don't let anyone snuff the music out of you with the word average. Don't make my mistake.

[onceinagreenmoon]

Everything is changing

Dear little daughter,

I have not written in a long time. I have been ruminating on my failures as your mother- working too much, not being kind enough, not making enough of an effort to spend quality time with you.

But everything has changed now.

Now it’s just you and me. I had hoped to never be a single mother, but knew it was always in the realm of possibility. I’m new at this, please don’t judge me too harshly.

I’m sure that one day we’ll have a comfortable routine for just the two of us, but for now everything is in turmoil. I feel like my life has been a glass window, with pebbles and rocks steadfastly chipping away, but your father has taken a steel bat to it. He has shattered it, and I’m left here with bloody hands trying to claw the pieces together.

Listen to me, little daughter. Don’t be with someone like your father. Don’t fall for someone who intimidates people with his size and stubbornness. Do not choose someone who views women as inferior for the simple reasons that they have breasts and vaginas. Do not choose someone who will present a friendly facade to friends and family alike, who gaslights you when you try to hammer out your problems. Do not choose someone who will be openly disappointed if you become pregnant with a daughter of your own.

Do not fall for a man who will fuck his best friend’s fiancée while you’re at work, working hard to provide the best for your children.

Don’t do it, baby. You are strong and independent and you don’t need any man to be happy with your life.

I need you to know that whatever happens in your life, you will always have your mother’s love to cushion you when you fall. I’ll always be here with open arms.

I love you so much. But we can do this.

We’re going to be alright.

Just not today.

[onceinagreenmoon]

Fool me once...

I could fill a novel regarding all the poop related matters I have only just begun to endure. And if I did, this story would make the cut. It was Halloween day, and Scarlett had been constipated for over a week. I was on the phone with my Mom, preparing to go to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine to loosen the child's bowels. Scarlett had gone behind a coffee table for a few moments, and when she emerged she was brandishing what appeared to be a smooshed Snicker's bar. "Is that the chocolate I gave you this morning?" I said aloud. And as she came at me, I realized it wasn't chocolate. Well, I guess there was some chocolate in it considering what goes in must come out. Naturally, I washed her up and carried on with my day. Toddlers wielding turds are pretty commonplace for most moms, so most of us brush it off pretty easily. After a successful night of trick or treating, John and I were cooking dinner. Scarlett paraded into the kitchen, clutching yet another shitcicle, proudly shrieking "Happy Halloween!" I know how it sounds, but I'm not kidding. And yes, I have briefly considered sticking a cork in it. *sigh*

[onceinagreenmoon]

Dear Scarlett, Here is a list of acceptable names to call me. Mother Mom Mommy Mama Ma Madre Oh great one Light of my life Supreme ruler Note that Nikki is not on that list. Don't call me Nikki. Love, Mom

[onceinagreenmoon]

Dear Scarlett, yesterday you sat on my chest and forced me to kiss all of your stuffed animals. Your bossiness cannot be understated. Love, Mom

[onceinagreenmoon]

Motherhood is all about trying to see the good in the bad. For instance, when my daughter runs away from me, I see that as her possibly being a future athlete. When she shouts at me, I see that as her having a big personality. When she kicks me during diaper changes, I see that as a future unwillingness to let anyone in her pants. When she bangs on the piano, she is my little musical prodigy. And when she repeats swear words, I see that as her being a quick learner, and articulate. As irritating as my child can be, I am fully confident that she will grow up to be smart as a whip, and beautiful to boot. I love her to bits!

[onceinagreenmoon]

Right now we're watching The Office on Netflix, snuggled up on the couch. Way past your bedtime. Times like these are my favorite.

[onceinagreenmoon]

Dear Scarlett, Today there was some brown stuff on your butt. And for once, it was chocolate milk. Praise be to Maynard.

[onceinagreenmoon]

Today has been a busy day for Scarlett. She started with a light repast of my shiny eyeshadow. For a late afternoon snack she dipped a baby wipe into the toilet and sucked on it. Oh, and when I picked her up she farted. I said, "Did you fart?" And she responded, repeatedly, "I fahted! I fahted!" I've never been so proud ;)

[onceinagreenmoon]

Dear Scarlett, Let me clear the air. There are some behaviors that are just plain inappropriate, even when you're a toddler. I going to give you a short and sweet list of Do-s and Don't-s regarding feces. Don't: rip your diaper off and then shit on the kitchen floor. Do: tell mommy you have to poop. Don't: use a McDonald's Barbie toy mirror to smear your crap all over the kitchen floor. Do: try to make it to the toilet. Seriously. Don't crap on my floors. Don't: rub your poop all over your freshly bathed body and then try to climb into my bed. Get it? Got it? Good! Lord have mercy on me, I don't know how much poop I can take.

[onceinagreenmoon]

Dear Scarlett,

I want to talk to you about something near and dear to my heart (both figuratively and literally).

Breasts. Boobs. Tatas. Knockers. Jugs. Dirty pillows. Whatever you want to call your mammaries. By the time you read this, I’m hoping things will have changed. But as things stand now, the future does not look good for your breasts. For you see, men and women alike will (without your permission) sexualize your breasts.

I’m sure I’ll have talked your ear off about the benefits of breastfeeding by the time you have your own children, but I want to put this down in writing. Breasts are not inherently sexual. Our culture has made them that way. Your breasts are for nourishing your children.

That’s not to say that your breasts can’t serve a dual purpose, because they can. But the primary function is to feed your babies, and anyone who disagrees can go straight to hell. Seriously, I can’t stress this enough. If someone tells you boobs are first and foremost sexual playthings, you can go ahead and write them off as fucking idiots.

I want to be clear about this—your children have a right to breastfeed whenever and wherever they want, without shame. Without a cover. Without being asked to go to another room. You have a right to use your breasts the way nature intended.

Some people will tell you it’s indecent. Some people will tell you that you need to pump before leaving the house. Some people will tell you that breastfeeding is an intimate moment between mother and child, and nobody wants to intrude on that.

And those people can sit on it.

Breastfeeding is not indecent or obscene. If our breasts were not meant to feed our babies, we would not lactate.

Not all women respond to a pump. A pump is cold, hard plastic and is ineffective at removing milk. When a mother holds her baby, smells her baby, feels the warmth of her baby, feels her baby suckling, oxytocin is released which in turn causes a letdown of milk. The movement of a baby’s jaw is perfect for removing milk from a breast.

And while breastfeeding can be full of great bonding moments, sometimes it’s just feeding a baby.

Bottle feeding mothers don’t cover their babies to eat, they don’t feed their babies in disgusting bathrooms, and they certainly don’t hide out at home.

Please know that feeding your children when they are hungry is much more important than the comfort of strangers.

And lastly, the only way to normalize breastfeeding is if people see it so often that it becomes a non-issue.

Hopefully by the time you read this, it will seem silly because everyone is totally cool with breastfeeding.

We’ll see!

[onceinagreenmoon]

I was reading to Scarlett and in the book was a picture of cookies. She squealed, "Cookies!" Then she leaned over and licked the picture. Children.

[onceinagreenmoon]

This Morning

Dear Scarlett,

You must forgive me if I’ve been cross with you this morning. Mommy was at work until late last night, and I was not prepared to have you up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at 8 AM. That’s only five hours of sleep for Mommy!  And yet there you were, prodding me, repeating “Mom-MEE,” and taking off your wet diaper to park your clammy little butt next to my back. I grudgingly roused myself enough to see that your father was awake, which was a good enough reason for me to rest my eyes for a few more minutes. He fed you and changed you, bless him.

I somehow managed to migrate from my comfy king sized bed to your foam Minnie Mouse pull out couch. I think I might have been trying to hide from you. Or maybe I put myself in your room so that when your dad left I could keep an eye on you while I laid down. I don’t know. The only thing that was for certain is that I was super tired and could barely keep my eyes open.

Sure enough, just as your father was leaving, I felt myself drifting off again. I must have looked pretty peaceful, because you thought to yourself, “Man, Mom looks so comfortable, sleeping all peacefully and shit. Why don’t I go over there and stroke her hair a little bit. But wait a minute…I’ve definitely got a poop on deck. Should I wake her up to tell her I have to poopoo? Whoops, too late. Well I guess it would be rude to be in her space with a diaper full of poop. Better take it off. Alright, good to go!”

Little daughter, I shit you not, you plunked your poopy butt down directly next to my head. It wasn’t your presence that woke me, it was the odor wafting from your hindquarters. Horrified and hoping it wasn’t what I suspected, I swiped at your upper leg with my bare hand.

Code Brown, confirmed.

A mere three feet from where we sat was your pink minky cloth diaper, slumped over apathetically, full of poo, one button snapped while the other side hung open. I briefly pictured it sighing heavily, telling me, “You think you have it bad? Try being me for a day.”

No thanks, diaper. No thanks.

(I think it’s also worth noting that I just caught you dunking an entire new roll of toiler paper in the toilet. Shame!)

[onceinagreenmoon]

Working out

So I never lost all of the weight I gained from pregnancy. And over the past few months I've been putting on weight. I signed up with a gym that has babysitting and I was worried that Scarlett would pitch a fit. She didn't! Although the lady did tell me that "she plays better by herself." I said, "That's a nice way to put it! She can be a little bully sometimes." She said, "A very cute bully!" Yes, she's a very cute bully :)