Heirloom


And because I am not the mother I thought I'd be (I am far too practical than I am whimsical and who saw that coming?) I've been on this constant quest to feel comfortable in my own mother's skin.

I should go back, back to the part about how I am not the mother I thought I'd be--because that stuff is interesting.

I am one of those cloud-heads. I've survived my life so far with a presence of imagination and skillful escapism. I like to play pretend and day-dream at all hours. A typical moment for me is talking about something and mid-sentence get caught up in a vision or idea which propels me off into a world of thoughts that I can only share with myself. This usually ends with Chup waving his hand in front of my face with a "hello?" or a "yes?"

And I thought all of this would transfer into motherhood, but it has not. I am the alter ego of myself when it comes to my children. I like order and tidiness and work. WORK! My greatest desire as a mother is to teach my children self-reliance and practicality and service! This is leading to a very serious identity crisis. I wake-up baffled most mornings.

And I don't really like it.

So I've been contemplating what I can do to bridge the gulf between myself and myself, and the answer I have felt most comfortable with so far is to focus on giving my children opportunities that are both creative and constructive.

And we've had our successes, sorta. Last month we went to Jacob's Cove one morning--really early--because I wanted to show The Chief what a creative farm looked like. Basically, Dale Allred is a genius farmer and has cultivated a plot of land to supply locally grown crops to high-end restaurants (like Communal and Sundance). But the real gem of this whole place is his willy wonka-ish tomato tent where Dale has invented new heirloom tomatoes in rows of swirling vines. Like the Sunrise tomato and the Sunset tomato and the Black Cherry tomato which actually tastes like a cherry. Sweet as the sun in July, I swear.


Chup even tried one and nobody hates tomatoes more than Chup. We actually have that in writing and are now contacting Guinness for an official record.

 As the tour of tomato rows and lettuce fields continued I felt increasingly proud of myself for finding something in my life that appeased both sides of me. This was practical, this was pretty.


That is until we lost The Chief.

My passionate response to this farm pulled me in and I forgot to take my son with me. We yelled for him, we ran up and down the vines, I proceeded to panic.

Then Chup found him playing in some rain water by a wheel barrow.


I saw it as our cue to head home.

I've said this to friends, and I am saying it today: I am a mess. I don't know where I put my sanity (I checked under my brain where I thought my stability was as well) but for the most part I am clueless in all directions. It's like motherhood has this druggish affect on my state of mind. I am whaaaaat? most of the time. Dazed, confused and silly. But I hear this is common side-effect of maternity. I just didn't see it coming.

Now I day dream about the time when I've got it all together. Both of me.







Locals can actually buy food from Jacob's Cove:


My peace/piece on chocolate:
 





I am c jane and don't tell me that day never comes--the day where I have it all together.
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