15 November 2009

Momma Zen

Part of navigating the first year of motherhood is learning to get very comfortable in the world of unpredictable chaos. Some days schedules work, other days they end in the trash with the mound of dirty diapers. For me, part of the "oh I am starting to feel normal again" thing that started around 6 months came with the addition of re-introducing rituals or habits or structures that were solely for my benefit and no one else. Part of that, was starting to write again. Another part was starting to read again.

Last week I committed to start reading Momma Zen again. (I had started in my 7 month of pregnancy and then needed to put it away - I wasn't ready for this real a look at motherhood.) But last week, I felt ready. So, I committed to read one chapter, every Sunday and then write about it.

So today, would have been that first Sunday. But what happened instead is that I read Karen's blog an hour ago, and what she wrote today, is better than anything that I could have put together. So, I pass along to you, her words, on this first Sunday of committing to reading her wise and witty words:

How to make a baby

Add baby.
Dispose of birth plan.
Put all cashmere out of reach.
Abandon eurostyle.
Abandon style.
Piss on style.
Shop Wal-Mart in haste and desperation.
Beg for hand-me-downs.
Wear husband's sweatpants.
Every day.
Leave room for baby weight, flat feet, worry lines and permanent scars.
Resemble your grandmother.
Forget bathing.
Luxuriate in a hot shower for 7 seconds one day.
Forget that day.
Chop off your hair.
Lose your head.
Soak all stains overnight in salty tears.
(The stains remain and the tears return.)
Simmer in fatigue.
Whisk in exhaustion.
Churn the night into the day.
Let surface harden until brittle.
Scrape the bottom.
Let time evaporate.
Give up completely.
Make nothing.
Except mac and cheese microwaved for 3.5 minutes on High.
Love without doubt.
Forever.

From Cheerio Road - the delightful blog of Karen Maezen Miller

1 comment:

  1. Next Sunday: your turn. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete