Here, in my head

This Polyvore.com site is so very dangerous. You have a blast making collages of your favorite things and after you're done it gives you a menu of quick links to buy all those favorite things. Uh oh.
Don't tell Rhys.

Here, in my head by cbuchele

Breakfast at Anthropologie

My last post was something I wrote during the hotel stay Rhys gave me for my birthday, but I wanted a separate post to commemorate the perfection of those two glorious weekend days.

I packed my bag, left a bunch of little instruction notes for Rhys about Jude all over the house (not that he needed instructions, this is just a problem I have), kissed my boys goodbye and dashed out the door on Saturday afternoon.

I checked into the Chase Suites Hotel around 3 pm. The first thing I did was light candles and ran a bath. I brought my best LUSH bubble bar and soaked for an hour, without a book, without an agenda (most of the time when I take a bath I'm trying to solve a problem while relaxing. I call it my "office." It's a bit counter-productive.). When I got out I wrapped myself in my brand new chenille robe, put on my Lisa Gerrard CD and started to write and take pictures. I went to Borders for an egg nog latte & one of their incredibly naughty marshmallow brownies. You heard me, we're talking 10,000 calories and zero guilt.

I then headed to Nordstrom Rack for some shopping and found the most amazing pajama pants by Anthropologie's brand Free People that fit perfectly and happened to be 50% off. Luck? No. This was fate.

I had dinner plans at 7:30 pm with my friend Patricia at a French restaurant called La Vie en Rose. It was an elegant setting and it was perfect. The highlight for me was the 5 desserts we had. Well, we shared a souffle and crepe, then a complimentary cream puff swan with a single candle was sent to the table since we were there celebrating both of our birthdays. Then on the way out, we were each given a little box with carrot cake & chocolate cake from a family friend who works there. One can never have too many desserts.
I headed back and watched a little Saturday Night Live before going to bed. I haven't been able to stay up past 11 pm because I have to get up at the crack of Jude every morning. But not this particular Sunday...

I woke up at 9:30 am to the sound of: absolute silence. It was gorgeous. The first thing I did was take another LUSH bath. Then I lounged around doing lots of nothing important, such as reading magazines and catching bits of old movies. Around noon I picked some roses from outside my door, put them on the dashboard of my car and went to get my favorite breakfast: an iced chai latte & egg sandwich from Starbucks. I ate it on the way to Fashion Island, my big-girl playground. Where else can you find an Urban Outfitters, Anthropologie, Z Gallerie, This Little Piggy Wears Cotton, Babystyle, Hanna Andersson, and Gelato Paradiso all in the same place? It's heaven. I strolled around, bought a few things... and found this little treasure.

A Radiohead t-shirt, size 6-12 months. The only one, stashed in a clearance basket. On sale.

I wandered lazily around Anthropologie with my iced chai, reminiscent of Holly at Tiffany's. Anthropologie is my Tiffany's, nothing bad can happen to me there. It is like entering a new atmosphere. The way the world was supposed to be created. Maybe if it had taken more than 7 days...who knows...

I ended my evening at the movie theatre, my other safe haven. Seeing movies by myself has always been a favorite past time of mine. I went to a 4 pm showing of Slumdog Millionaire and it was incredible. A perfect ending to a perfect weekend. Well, actually, I came home in time to put my little son to bed on Sunday evening. That was the perfect end to my perfect two days.

I should also mention that I came home to a clean house and a bouquet of flowers waiting for me. We watched Dexter and had sushi for dinner. Absolute bliss.

Silence

For the first time in 14 months, I am left completely alone with my thoughts. There were times when I thought I'd had a break but now that I'm experiencing this weekend in solitude I realize I wasn't ever really alone. A car ride doesn't count if there's a passenger in the carseat that can start a small war at anytime. Naptime doesn't count because of the pressure to get something substantial done during those precious two hours while he sleeps, if he decides to sleep at all. This is the first time I've been away from Jude, alone, for more than 4 hours since he was born. I had forgotten how sweet it is to breathe in complete solitude, to reflect on the glorious big picture, and to sleep in a big bed with no interruptions.

For my 32nd birthday Rhys gave me this gift of myself, in the form of a weekend alone at a fancy hotel one city away. I have Lisa Gerrard's The Silver Tree serenading a king bed lit by candlelight, just for me. The air feels different. I am inspired. I am taking pictures. I am reminded of my former self, the one who always dreamed of the very life I have now: a gentle soul to share my life with, a sweet little child to introduce the world to, and a true happiness with the woman I have become. I remember how I thought I would be unaffected by motherhood, that my main goal was to stay creative, fashionable and organized. I had hopes to even improve my daily life after having a baby with the addition of yoga classes and tea with my mom and fresh weekly floral bouquets from the local farmers market. I had no idea what motherhood requires of a girl: her body, her time, her complete self. All the designer burp cloths in the world couldn't save me from the feeling of drowning in my own new life as a mother, as I watched my aspirations as New Mom wash away. I couldn't find a shred of that girl to cling to.
And now, here I am.

A year ago I would never have believed that I'd be able to find even a glimmer of my former self within the ragged, puked-on, exhausted girl I had become. I have survived the discomfort and dissapointment of pregnancy, the torture of spotting through all trimesters, the horrific c-section delivery/recovery, and the deep darkness I fell into when we brought Jude home. Now, all that remains of those horrible first few months is a 4-inch pink scar across my belly.

Here, in my hotel room, I am not thinking about what time the next nap should be, what the next meal will be, when the last diaper was changed, where the afternoon adventure will take place, or why I ever decided that having kids was a good idea at all. I am thinking about my journey to this very day. All of my past loves that lead me to my soul mate. My insanely religious father who has never met my son. Moving out at 17, right out of high school. Living alone for 6 years before getting married. Having a baby. I am made up of tiny pieces of all of these experiences, good and bad, and that is incredible. At this moment I am not a mother, wife, accountant, housekeeper, chef, counselor, nurse, or personal servant. I am just Scarlett, the dreamer. But I wouldn't trade my busy, beautiful, crazy life for this lush solitude. At this moment, there is nothing to want. I have it all.

October

October brought all kinds of firsts to the smallest of Bucheles. There was a first frolick in crunchy fall leaves...

And a first walk on the beach...

A first looney-farm family Halloween in which the dad was a redneck, the mom was a movie star and somehow they spawned a tiny nerd...
...who played the part well.
First pumpkin patch...


And first time I made a cake with buttercream frosting from scratch...
Only to have it purposely decimated by a tiny little man on his first birthday.

Winter

This is the cover of Anthropologie's latest catalogue. I've never wanted to be somewhere else in an instant as much as when I first saw this picture. I'm sure she's cold and it's not comfortable sitting on those broken branches, but she's where I want to be. I crave icy, crunchy weather and the sting of cold on my cheeks. I want to wear my hippie hats and scarves and drink hot cider without feeling ridiculous.

Why do I even own a coat rack?

Then I consider that single word in the corner, Wonder. At first I think of it in terms of marveling at the beauty of the pure snow. Then I'm sidetracked by another meaning that is so evident in my life: to curiously think about what comes next, wondering if some things I've longed for will ever come. Having the same questions running through my head for so long makes me wonder... Will I ever be caught up enough to feel caught up? Will I ever find myself in a house surrounded by beauty? Will my life ever calm down enough for me to feel in control of it? Will "someday" ever get here?

Salvation

It turns out money can buy happiness and it comes in the form of a Canon 40D digital SLR. Meet "Black Mambo," the newest member of my family. She is dark, sleek and shoots everything in sight with no remorse. True salvation for this girl, who limped around with an old Kodak point and shoot attempting to document my firstborn's first year. I think the mother should receive a nice gift on her child's first birthday... after all, who did all the work in that situation? Sure, Jude cut a tooth here and there, grew to three times his original size, but still. I made & raised a tiny little man so I bought myself a camera to celebrate me. Now the real fun starts.

Here I am opening my, "birthday gift" which arrived at 8 pm on Jude's birthday. I. Hate. FedEx.

I took over 200 pictures in the first 24 hours of unwrapping my present. This is dangerous, I'm going to have to build a library for all of Jude's photo albums.

Beyond the Pale

Dancing in the Grey

Oh how I love dancing in the grey area that is Dexter. Yes, the Showtime series about the serial killer who only kills killers. I love, love this dark little show about a guy who knocks people off weekly. It is so satisfying to play around with the moral code that this particular 'bad guy' has. I want to have him over for tea and discuss the world's issues. He has a lot on his plate, he needs a cup of tea. The idea that all people carry around dark secrets, or have pieces of themselves that no one else ever sees, has always been intriguing to me.

And I miss the Ice Truck Killer, how's that for crazy? I'm also fascinated by Sylar from Heroes. He is a very bad guy. Should I be worried? No, I think it's just the glasses I like on him. I'm a sucker for guys with glasses, I married one. And mine doesn't kill people... or does he? He does come back late from the studio once in awhile. Hmmmmm.

A Clever, Artsy Dexter Season 3 Preview

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Jude's Toothbrush Holder Concert

I heard a flute-like sound coming from the living room this morning. I figured Rhys was playing around with a toy recorder or something, but couldn't think of anything we had around the house that would make that high-pitched noise. I found Jude with his new musical instrument, a travel toothbrush holder. I guess he did get the musical gene after all. (You may need to pause the jukebox music to hear his little concert.)

Edited on 9/12 to add: Alright, now I'm convinced he's a child prodigy. Here he is playing a battery charger. I just put him on the waiting list for Juilliard.

My Trophy Arrived!

Okay, absolutely nothing tops this. My honorary breastpumping trophy arrived via UPS today. My wonderful, sweet, way-too-far-away friend Sharon had a special trophy made just for me, honoring my 9 months of pumping (see old post "Where's My Trophy?" if you think I'm crazy. Well I am crazy, but see it if you're at all confused). It's a little golden gal wearing a sash and tiara. On the base it says "World's Best Mom! For exceptional pumping dedication." I'm going to put it on a chain and wear it as bling. It's going to be the hugest medallion anyone has ever seen. Sharon... sista... you are so incredible. I really do need to move in next door. I need you closer.

All mothers should have one of these trophies. Whether it be for "Breastfeeding a Biter," "Keeping Yourself Alive on 2 Hours of Sleep Per Day," "Working All Day and Then Coming Home to Your Second Full-Time Job," or how about simply "Birthing a Baby." This needs to be a government-funded gesture, like food stamps. Who's with me?

I'm going to go order Jude a "World Champion Nap Fighter" award.

The Forest

I love trees. I feel most like myself when surrounded by them, I become so small yet feel more powerful. There are so very few trees here in Southern California and they're spread out so that nothing comes close to resembling a forest. We took a quick weekend trip to Los Gatos at the end of July to celebrate Grandma Darby's birthday with her. They live 20 minutes up a windy road, thick with tall redwoods. Their home is perched atop a mountain that overlooks the most gorgeous view of a majestic forest. It is breathtaking, and very hard to leave. The crisp fresh air, the quiet hum of the wind, the soft pine smell... nothing beats it. A cup of coffee tastes better in the woods. Rhys and I have always wanted to live in a place with lots of trees and rain, but life seems to swirl around us so fast that we hardly notice we aren't where we need to be. Then, when we're stuck in heavy traffic or the LA smog is particularly thick, we are jolted back into reality. We are still not in a peaceful, blissful state. Namely Washington. We miss you, Los Gatos, and the peaceful, wonderful calm you bring. And we miss you, Grandma & Grandpa Buchele, for the very same reason.

Crack for Moms

So, just when I've found myself overwhelmed with how many things are on my to-do list, Danielle casually drops Scrapblogging into my life as if it's not going to dangerously interfere. It has been called "crack for moms", and I'm an addict. I'm going to have to start attending meetings and get a sponsor. My house is surely going to suffer for this. My husband is going to be wearing dirty clothes for weeks. Honestly, that won't be much of an adjustment. But oh wow, I'm in a bit of heaven.

Where's my Trophy?

Well, I'm finally done pumping. What a wild ride that was. I gave breastfeeding my best shot (who knew it was so dang hard??) and after 4 personal lactation consultants and a trip to the ER, I decided to exclusively pump for as long as I could. Jude had problems with latching, overeating, and projectile vomiting (which is a disaster when your one and only food source has just been depleted). I don't remember one thing about having a newborn that went "right" or easy... well except for the naps. Jude's naps, I didn't take any. I just stared at the wall and wondered why I ever thought mothering would be easy or fun and tried to plot my way onto a bus going nowhere.
Anyway, I exclusively pumped between 3-6 times a day for 9 straight months, and still have not received my honorary trophy. I hated pumping. Every time I had a moment to myself... it was time to pump. But, there was nothing more satisfying than putting a bag of breastmilk in the fridge after a pump session. And when I had a small stash going, I had to take a picture. I have to remember how proud that made me, to have kept at it for so long. I tried to quit a few times and just couldn't bring myself to do it, which I always thought was strange. If I hate it so much, why can't I stop? Well, my brilliant husband reminded me why: it was something I knew I had truly succeeded at. The proof was in the milk. I fought for it, worked hard at it, and made it happen. It's hard to stop the only thing you're sure you are doing well. There isn't much about motherhood that you can say "worked", you just have to do your best and hope your little guy is flourishing. But pumping worked. And I'm happy that the decision to stop wasn't exactly mine, my body just stopped making milk. So it was an easy end to a not-so-easy 9 months. I finally have my body back...well, until the next tiny creature inhabits it (read: when I'm insane enough to start this crazy process all over again).

"A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To be alive is to be slowly born."

~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Dreaming in Color

I've been experimenting with color saturation lately. The ridiculous thing is that I consider myself a photographer, but I'm taking pictures with a little point-and-shoot digital Kodak camera and then punching up the color in a free, very unsophisticated photo program. The only professional camera I own is my Canon A2 and it's a film camera, practically an antique now. That's how long it's been since I've taken a serious photo. I really need to get myself a digital SLR. Maybe when I win the lotto...

The Good Mom Book

This book saved my life. I found it on Amazon last month by accident while searching for a different book, and bought it based on the title alone. I was convinced that mothering would come very naturally to me and was hit with a big brick wall when it didn't. Not only did it not come naturally but I was hating almost every minute of it. I suffered from post pardum depression but my dissapointment went beyond those temporary chemical and hormonal imbalances. Everyone I knew made motherhood look so easy, and talked about how wonderful it was. So when I found myself crying more than my newborn, unshowered for 4 days and up to my knees in dirty diapers I felt a little duped. My identity was slipping away rapidly as every ounce of my energy went into feeding, burping and nap scheduling. The first page of this book brought me to tears as I said a little *hallelujah* in my head. I'd finally been reunited with reality. The main theme is how the expectations we have for ourselves as mothers ruin all hope of feeling satisfied with what we have accomplished. It encourages women to reevaluate their personal expectations and realign it with what is realistic. Basically, there was no possible way I would be able to cross everything off my daily "to-do" list. Not even half of it. Now I consider myself a hero if I've made the bed and eaten lunch by 3 pm.

I started an online board titled "I Love Being a Mom, I Just Hate Doing It" on BabyCenter.com to find girls that felt the same way. It is completely inspired by this "Good Mom" book and I had an overwhelming response from women who were feeling the same burn of motherhood. I love those girls.

http://boards.babycenter.com/n/pfx/forum.aspx?tsn=1&nav=messages&webtag=bcus1181&tid=24594