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The Philosophical Mother (TPM) is an online archive of over 300 essays on motherhood that were written between September 2002 and December 2005.
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Are You A Philosophical Mother?

You Know You're a Philosophical Mother if . . .

  • You realize that you're learning more now as a mother than you ever learned in high school and college combined.
  • You suddenly understand why Mommie Dearest had a hissy fit over wire hangers!
  • On some days, you are so inspired by the creativity of child-rearing, that you momentarily forget that your children primarily see you as a housekeeper, chef, and chauffeur.
  • You are in therapy; have been in therapy; talk about going to therapy; or at least understand why some moms desperately need therapy.
  • You accept that in every learning process there has to be room for error.
  • You are still awe-struck that you have become your child's greatest role model, mentor, and teacher.
  • You accept the fact that you are not a perfect, superhuman, Super-Mom, and that you just can't do it all, all the time.
  • You believe that your own "mistakes" will make you a stronger mother, and not cause your children permanent damage.
  • You believe that your child, like you, is a wonderful and complex work-in-progress. And you refuse to strap your child with unrealistic expectations of perfectionism.
  • You've read every parenting book ever written and even toyed with writing your own.
  • You pledge not to judge another mother's parenting skills ever....especially when her child is having a horrible temper tantrum in a crowded mall. Repeat your mantra --There but for the grace of God, go I.
  • You refuse to take sides in the Ultimate Mommy Rumble -- the WAHM's against the SAHM's against the Working Moms. Repeat your chant -- Can't we all just get along!
  • You believe that motherhood and feminism can and should co-exist.
  • You can't understand why everybody told you that you could "have it all" when the truth is "that something always has to give."
  • You can't believe that nobody told you how difficult it all would be.
  • You actually get tired of hearing your own voice, especially when you are speaking in the official "mom tone" and barking some disciplinary command for the one millionth time in one hour.
  • You love being a mom; but sometimes you hate having to be THE MOM.

TPM Columnists

Lizbeth Finn-Arnold
Travel With Lizbeth

Regina Walker
Maternal Journal

Elizabeth Katkics Thompson
This Full House

Gerry Di Gesu
On the Bright Side

Elizabeth Ross
Sleeping Single

Joanne Detore-Nakamura, Ph.D
Special Delivery

Jim Turner
Genuine Moments

Stacey Greenberg
Stomping Ground

Susan Krushenick
A Womb With A View
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Lizbeth Finn-Arnold

TRAVEL WITH LIZBETH:
  1. Moving Forward, Looking Back (Nov/Dec 2005),
  2. Band of Mothers (Nov/Dec 2005)
  3. Wanting A Girl (October 2005)
  4. Craving Slow News Days (September 2005)
  5. Closing Time (July 2005)
  6. No Mom Is An Island (May 2005)
  7. Changing the World (April 2005)
  8. Paradise Lost (March 2005)
  9. Adopting Elvis (February 2005)
  10. Year-End Review (January 2005)
  11. Finding the Perfect Present (December 2004)
  12. The Calm Before the Holiday Storm (November 2004)
  13. Grave Matters (October 2004)
  14. Shades of Gray (September 2004)
  15. Surveying the Landscape of Motherhood (August 2004)
  16. Feeling hot, Hot, HOT (July 2004)
  17. The Best of Times (June 2004)
  18. The Yin and Yang of Motherhood (April 2004)
  19. Embarrassing Moments (March 2004)
  20. Lovely Letters (February 2004)
  21. The Learned Mother (January 2004)
  22. Finding the Perfect Present (December 2003)
  23. Fear of Falling (November 2003)
  24. Bodily Harm (October 2003)
  25. Sex, God, & Body Parts (October 2003)
  26. A Day Like Any Other (September 2003)
  27. Launching Olivia (September 2003)
  28. Reflections (August 2003)
  29. Miss Independent (July 2003)
  30. My Father (June 2003)
  31. Welcome to the Mommy Jungle (May 2003)
  32. A Mother's Daze (May 2003)
  33. Stranger in a Very Strange Land (April 2003)
  34. Kicking and Screaming (April 2003)
  35. The Boobie Tube (March 2003)
  36. March and Madness (March 2003)
  37. Finding True Romance (February 2003)
  38. Love 2003 (February 2003)
  39. Separating the Sexy Men From the Sexy Boys (January 2003)
  40. Closet Monsters (January 2003),
  41. Cleaning Out My Closets (January 2003)
  42. Stressing Traditions (December 2002)
  43. 'Tis the Season to Feel Tired (December 2002)
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Regina Walker

MATERNAL JOURNAL:
  1. Beginning Again (Nov/Dec 2005)
  2. Resurrection (Nov/Dec 2005)
  3. Changing the Script (October 2005)
  4. Gratitude (September 2005)
  5. Spring Fair (July 2005)
  6. Fitting In (June 2005)
  7. What Are You Afraid Of?(May 2005)
  8. My Mother & Me (April 2005)
  9. Sam (March 2005)
  10. Pause (February 2005)
  11. Resurrection (January 2005)
  12. Breaking Bread (December 2004)
  13. Sally Said (November 2004)
  14. Today (October 2004)
  15. a short story of an afternoon (September 2004)
  16. Letters to My Sons (August 2004)
  17. Taking Stock (July 2004)
  18. Having Another? (June 2004)
  19. On Turning 40 (May 2004)
  20. Can You Understand Him? (April 2004)
  21. Mama in Midlife Crisis (March 2004)
  22. In Sickness and in Health (February 2004)
  23. Resolutions (January 2004)
  24. The Gift of Sam (December 2003)
  25. Another Country (November 2003)
  26. Someone Else's Body (October 2003)
  27. Mama of a Gifted Child (September 2003)
  28. Regarding Zachary (August 2003)
  29. An Imaginary World (July 2003)
  30. Knowing Dad (June 2003)
  31. Loss (May 2003)
  32. Brooding (April 2003)
  33. Different Theories (March 2003)
  34. Fear and Loathing in Gymboree (March 2003)
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Elizabeth Katkics Thompson

THIS FULL HOUSE:
  1. It's Like Angry Sex...Only, Tastes Better (Nov/Dec 2005)
  2. Coming of Age and Reasonable Doubt (September 2005)
  3. Reservation for Six (July 2005)
  4. Falling In and Out of Love With Your Father (June 2005)
  5. I Am The Alpha Mom . . . (May 2005)
  6. Growing Old With Nagy Mama (April 2005)
  7. Talk Dirty to Me! (March 2005)
  8. My Brother's Wife (February 2005)
  9. The Year I Fed My Husband Chicken (January 2005)
  10. A Christmas Without Uncle Bud (December 2004)
  11. 'Tis the Season to be S.A.D. (November 2004)
  12. My Two Breast Friends (October 2004)
  13. What to Expect When You're Not Expecting Anymore (September 2004)
  14. Warning: Motherhood May be Dangerous to Your Health (August 2004)
  15. Bound by Passion (July 2004)
  16. Lost in Transition (June 2004)
  17. Don't Hate Me Because I'm Maternal (May 2004)
  18. The Ring Around Motherhood (April 2004)
  19. Minor Distractions & Misdemeanors (March 2004)
  20. Annette, Meg, and Me (February 2004)
  21. Best of Both Worlds (January 2004)
  22. Gift-Worthy (December 2003)
  23. Yes, They're All Mine (November 2003)
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Gerry Di Gesu

ON THE BRIGHT SIDE:
  1. Mighty Duck (October 2005)
  2. Once Upon A Summer (September 2005)
  3. Beach Day (July 2005)
  4. The Fig Tree (June 2005)
  5. Motorcycle Momma (May 2005)
  6. The Someday Dress (April 2005)
  7. It's Okay to Say 'No' (March 2005)
  8. Silence (February 2005)
  9. Christmas Card Wisdom (January 2005),
  10. On the Bright Side (December 2004)
  11. Thanksgiving (November 2004)
  12. Renewal (October 2004)
  13. Growing Season (September 2004)
  14. The Last Day (August 2004),
  15. Insecurities (July 2004)
  16. Ode to My Family (June 2004)
  17. We Did Our Best (May 2004)
  18. Decision (April 2004)
  19. Pie in the Sky (March 2004)
  20. Sweet Reunion (February 2004)
  21. Most of the Time (January 2004)
  22. Christmas Confusion (December 2003)
  23. Down Time With Nancy (November 2003)
  24. Just Like Your Mother (October 2003)
  25. Terror (September 2003)
  26. Back-to-School Night (September 2003)
  27. The Last Day (August 2003)
  28. Buddies (July 2003)
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Elizabeth Ross

SLEEPING SINGLE:
  1. New Year's Eve (January 2005)
  2. Let Hearts Be Light (December 2004)
  3. Cold Harvest (November 2004)
  4. I Read [Bleep] as a Child. Am I Bad? (October 2004)
  5. It Could Be Worse (September 2004)
  6. Surveyville (August 2004)
  7. Activist Heart: Anne Feeney (July 2004)
  8. Multi-Level Mothering (June 2004)
  9. Into the Mystic (May 2004)
  10. Popularity vs. Self-Assurance (April 2004)
  11. 'To Assume" -- The Eighth Deadly Sin (March 2004)
  12. Finding the Center of the Circle (February 2004),
  13. New Year's Revolutions (January 2004)
  14. Unconventional Family Holiday (December 2003),
  15. Motherhood As A Curse (November 2003),
  16. Holding On (August 2003)
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Joanne Detore-Nakamura, Ph.D

SPECIAL DELIVERY:
  1. Mother Knows Best or Why Tom Cruise Should Stay Off Sofas (July 2005)
  2. Snakes and Snails, and All That Jazz (June 2005)
  3. My Life Stood Still -- Like a Load of Laundry (March 2005)
  4. Shedding My Extra Hyde (January 2005)
  5. Beauty of the Hours (August 2004)
  6. My Mother, Myself (May 2004)
  7. My So-Called Boring Life (April 2004)
  8. Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Aliens Among Us, And Extraterrestrial Superheroes (February 2004)
  9. Girl Power (January 2004)
  10. Diving Deep and Resurfacing (November 2003)
  11. Dissertation Distress: A Room of One's Own With A Crib and a Computer (March 2003)
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Jim Turner

GENUINE MOMENTS:
  1. Knee High by July (July 2005)
  2. The Graduate (June 2005)
  3. It's A Small World After All (April 2005)
  4. For Love (February 2005)
  5. Missing Silent Night (December 2004)
  6. Always a Child (November 2004)
  7. Just Another Ribbon (October 2004)
  8. Singing the Blues (September 2004)
  9. The Democracy in Naming a Legacy (August 2004)
  10. My First Time (June 2004)
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Stacey Greenberg

STOMPING GROUND:
  1. In Search of a Second Opinion (Nov/Dec 2005)
  2. Nighttime Parenting (October 2005)
  3. Back to School (September 2005)
  4. Building Community, One Mama at a Time (July 2005)
  5. Mothers and Daughters (May 2005)
  6. Mairamou (April 2005)
  7. Hangin' with the Dads (March 2005)
  8. Sex Toys and Threesomes (February 2005)
  9. Kindling (January 2005)
  10. Taking the Purple Cow to Mothersville (July 2004)
  11. My Son, The Little Jew with the Foreskin (April 2004)
  12. Machinery I Have Loved (October 2003)
  13. Confessions of a Cloth Diaper Drop-Out (April 2003)
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Susan Krushenick

A WOMB WITH A VIEW:
  1. Momma's Little Surprise (May 2004)
  2. Tales from 'TV Turn-off Week' (April 2004),
  3. Button Day (March 2004)
  4. 50 Lessons of Motherhood (January 2004)
  5. Birthing a New Tradition (December 2003)
  6. Falling Down (November 2003)
  7. Dear Mother Nature (October 2003)
  8. What I Did Over Summer Vacation (September 2003)
  9. What Would Happen If...? (August 2003)
  10. Operation Evacuation (July 2003)
  11. Are You a Candidate for Mother-of-the-Year? (May 2003)
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NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2005

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Moving Forward, Looking Back


In the Summer of 2002, after having spent a year writing about my personal adventures in motherhood, I had accumulated a dozen or so essays in my portfolio, and was frustrated. Not with the writing process, put with the submission process. I guess I thought national parenting magazines were going to read my essays, recognize my genuis (lol) and immediately offer me my own column.

When that didn't happen, I began submitting to smaller regional markets and online publications. I experienced moderate success, and my essays were posted here and there. I soon realized that smaller niche markets online suited my writing style. After all, I didn't want to write happy-sappy 1000 word tributes to motherhood with neat and tidy endings. I was writing about the joyous, and not-so-joyous, moments of mothering. I wanted to write THE TRUTH.

Not seeing the truth out there, I did what any creatively-frustrated woman would do -- I decided to take things into my own hands. In the Fall of 2002, I launched a webzine called The Philosophical Mother.

I had given birth twice. How hard could self-publishing be? Once upon a time, I had worked in public relations, so I knew to design newsletters for non-profit organizations. Why not design one for myself? I also knew I could take advantaged of new technology which allowed almost anyone to create online magazines, with virtually no start-up costs. While I had never created a website before, my experience in desktop publishing allowed me to get the hang of page design fairly quickly.

The response to my new baby, The Philosophical Mother, was neither immediate nor grand. Nobody was knocking down my doors to read my words. And I learned a quick lesson about the Internet -- You can build it, but that doesn't mean they're going to come.

There are thousands and thousands of websites out there. Sites with the best placement on search engines get the most hits. It takes money for advertising and marketing, if you really want to be make a big splash. Word of mouth helps, but they have to know you're out there, in order to talk about you.

I tried not to let this get me down. I told myself that if nothing else, the webzine was a good way for me to showcase my own writing. It forced me to write on a regular schedule, and allowed me to create an easily accessible online portfolio of my work. It gave me something to focus on besides laundry, shopping, and caretaking. And it fed my creative soul.

Still, as I began posting to the site, I felt as if I were stranded on a deserted island, cut off from the rest of the world. I was unsure if anyone would ever get my "message in a bottle." I held my breath and waited for a response.

In January of 2003, I returned from vacation and found my inbox full with submissions from other mothers. My call for submissions had run in Poets and Writers Magazine over the holidays, and apparently a lot of people had seen it. I had a response from the outside world. Perhaps, I was on to something. Perhaps other mothers were dying to talk about the same things I was dying to talk about.

They had received my message in a bottle, and sent back their own. Contact had been made. There was no turning back.

Over the next three years, I continued to receive submissions from all over the place. Several wonderful writers became regular contributing columnists, and together we posted a monthly webzine for mothers (and fathers) who who wanted to share their honest (sometimes brutally honest) tales of parenting.

Looking back, I am proud of my little webzine that started in the imagination of one woman but expanded to touch the lives of thousands of others. There are over 300 essays in our archives. And sometimes, I go back and read through them just to reconnect with the place and time that these essays represent.

I moved on from The Philosophical Mother in December 2005. My filmmaking and screenwriting began to fulfill my creative energies. Plus, I no longer felt comfortable sharing my children's stories as they aged, and became aware of what Mommy was writing about them online for strangers to read.

Still, the stories I shared, as well as the stories of others, remain here in our archives. They are here so that others may enjoy. They are here so that others may understand. Motherhood can seem lonely and isolating at times. But we are all connected. We are not alone. We struggle, but we get through it.

I survived, and so will you. Our stories bear witness to it all.

***********************
Copyright 2005 Lizbeth Finn-Arnold
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Band of Mothers

When I was young and single, I wasn’t anything like the women in Sex and the City. My girlfriends and I never sat around over lunch discussing every intimate detail of our sex lives. In reality, us girls talked, but with more modesty and vagueness.

And if any of us were having sexual problems, I never knew it. We just assumed everything was fine and dandy down there. We barely felt comfortable discussing our private parts with our highly-selected gynecologists, let alone our best friends.

However, all that discomfort with my body went out the door once I became a mother. Suddenly, I found myself sharing a common bond with thousands of strangers simply because we had crossed the threshold into motherhood.

I discovered that veteran moms can share “war stories” that are explicit enough to shock those seemingly unshockable chicks from Sex in the City.

After becoming a new mother, it amazed me how many times I found myself sitting in a fast food restaurant sharing the most intimate details of my life with other mothers, while at the same time doling out happy meal prizes. We easily conversed about episiotomies, hemorrhoids, engorged breasts, bowel movements, and other unmentionables as if we were discussing the weather.

Usually, we discovered that while our birthing experiences were similar, they were also each unique and special too. Thus, we found ourselves in a secret sisterhood – bound together by something so enormous that before we had children, even we could not comprehend it.

We were survivors of war. And we had the C-section scars to prove it.

MOMMY BOOT CAMP

Pregnancy, as I see it, is sort of the motherhood Boot Camp. For nine months, future mommies are put through grueling physical tests and hazing rituals. Eventually, this madness culminates in our entry into the sisterhood of Mothers.

The humiliation in Boot Camp is great, starting with the monthly weigh-ins at the OB’s office and culminating in the Hell Night ritual that results in the birth of your child. The many discomforts of Boot Camp include, sleep deprivation, morning sickness, mood swings, fatigue, cravings, bloating, constipation, and varicose veins.

This Boot Camp experience is about toughening us up as mommy soldiers for the real battle ahead: Parenthood.

For as grueling as pregnancy and labor are, parenthood includes the daily skirmishes of “The Toddler Wars” and “The Teenage Rebellion.” Therefore, we are put through rigorous drills for nine to tens months in preparation for what lies ahead.

Motherhood, it seems, is not for the weak in body or spirit.

THE BLOODY BATTLE

As if Boot Camp is not hellish enough, the real terror lies in the fact that all of us mommies-to-be know that the only way to become mothers is to live through the greatest trial of our life: THE BLOODY BATTLE aka LABOR AND DELIVERY.

During the labor, we often languish for hours in intense pain, terrified that we (or our precious cargo) will perish during the battle. However, we push on and brace ourselves for the onslaught.

If we are lucky, Boot Camp has prepared us well. And if we are really, really lucky, the baby will conveniently pop out with one or two pushes and we won’t feel a thing.

Not all labor is "flesh-and-blood" bloody, but more metaphorically bloody. For adoptive mothers, The Bloody Battle of labor, tied up in paperwork and bureaucracy, can lasts for months, instead of days.

SELECTIVE AMNESIA

I find that after emerging victoriously after the Bloody Battle, most mothers immediately begin the process of selective amnesia. We look down at the perfect baby in our arms and forget most of the worst parts of the entire bloody experience. Later on, when others ask about our labor or adoption experiences, most of us will not share the truly gruesome horrors.

Giving life is painful, difficult, and terrifying. However, most of us forget this and willingly sign up for second, third, or even more Tours of Duty.

Many of us are even good at recruiting future moms. Yet, there are times when recruitment gets tricky. While most civilians (i.e. non-moms) do not want to know intimate labor stories, every once in a while you get an expectant mom who demands to hear every detail, so that she can be prepared. My first thought is to scream back at the naive mommy-to-be like Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men – “You can’t handle the truth!”

Instead, rather than destroy the future-mommy’s bliss, I answer, “To be honest . . . it’s really hard. The hardest thing I ever had to do.”

If her face goes blank and I fear she will faint, I quickly add, “But yours might not be. Besides see what you get when it’s done.” At which point I then gesture lovingly toward my own precious offspring.

POST TRAUMATIC STRESS SYNDROME:

Like all wars, returning to civilain life after labor isn't easy at all. Most new mothers are shocked to realize that not only do we no longer fit into our old clothes -- we also don't quite fit into our old lives.

We return home in a daze, with uncertainty and fear about our new roles. To add to the uneasiness, many new moms discover that instead of feeling blissful, we feel overwhelmed, exhausted, and depressed. Post-partum blues happen to the very best of us. These feelings are intense, and especially disturbing because they come at a time which is supposed to be joyful.

But these feelings are quite normal, caused by wicked hormonal fluctuations, coupled with sleep deprivation, and round-the-clock caretaking.

The goods news is that this initial shock eventually goes away, just in time to go back into battle and have another baby.

WAR STORIES:

The fact is that motherhood, like war, changes a person’s life forever. And it also affects the way a woman thinks and feels about her body.

It is very difficult to be modest after having gone through labor and have had dozens of strangers peek and poke at your private regions. It’s impossible to be bashful when your body has been ripped apart and put back together again. It’s ridiculous not to talk explicitly when so much of who you are seems to be directly tied to your sexuality and physicality as a woman.

As mothers, we each possess a distinct and amazing “war story” to share. We’ve been to hell and back and we’ve lived to tell about it. The victories are mostly sweet and beautiful, but sometimes marred by sadness or unspeakable tragedy. Either way they are ours. And we WILL NOT FORGET.

For there are many stinging defeats scattered along the path to glorious motherhood. We want and need to share these experiences. Mostly, we are ecstatic to find instant camaraderie with strangers who share a common language and understanding of the universe simply because they are mothers, like us.

Motherhood is the ultimate hero’s journey. We begin this journey, like all heroes, with reluctance, and an unwillingness to change. We slowly overcome our reluctance and begin preparing for big changes. Then we are put through a series of physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual tests.

Labor, of course, is our ultimate task – the threshold we must cross in order to complete our journey. It is also the point of no return and the moment in which each of us confronts our greatest fears, and our own possible death. Each mother completes her heroic journey transformed and reborn by the experience, and rewarded with the gift of her baby’s life.

As a mother, I am amazed not only by myself, but by all the other women who have come before and will come after me. Despite the risks and dangers, we do not flinch from our destinies. And while history may never acknowledge women’s sacrifices or accomplishments as mothers, I know that there is tremendous strength and valor in each and every ordinary woman who enters the battlefield of motherhood.

We will probably never get a "Mommy Veteran's Day" parade or a Mommy Memorial to commemorate our heroic accomplishments. So we'll celebrate our deeds in our own way. We will continue to pass each other in the park, and nod in silent recognition. And when we get together, we will talk, and talk, and talk about our experiences -- blood, and guts, and all.

Sure, real war may be the bonding experience that makes all men brothers, but motherhood is that which makes all women sisters.

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Beginning Again


“To risk nothing is to take the greatest risk of all.”
To paraphrase Albert Einstein, I have been practicing my own brand of insanity by continuing to do the same thing over and over again and hoping to achieve different results. It has taken turning 41 years old and experiencing an existential loneliness that defies a description comprised of merely words to awaken me to the pattern I have lived a life in.

I am pessimistic by nature though I often disguise myself as a realist. I had always thought my inherent pessimism and avoidant personality shielded me from rejection or profound hurt. Then I had children. Though I remained a pessimist, my heart no longer solely resided within me; protected behind walls and within armor. Instead, it wandered around me in no particular pattern while embodied in two little boys who do not wear armor and who have a penchant for bridges.

At first, I ran behind them with my invisible net at which they would laugh and shriek and then run away faster. So I began to change -- to shift -- to become someone else. I have not so much allowed myself to be hurt but something was born within me when my sons came into being. Part of me awoke and I began to yearn for connection.

But connection has never been my forte so I am not very good at it. I have reached out over the last few years; awkwardly and cautiously and gotten hurt. I feel emotionally like a much younger person. Rejection stings at any age but it seems somewhat more intense now. I realize too that I am mourning the loss of that which I have never allowed myself to have which makes the pain even more poignant.

I have come to truly believe and accept that when one door closes at least one other opens. But I have spent so much time and energy in the past banging on the closed doors that I have been unable or unwilling to see the doors that newly open for me. I also think I have been afraid. The risk it would take to cross the thresholds of those unknown doorways has been an invisible barrier for me.

I have chosen, though often unconsciously, to remain in darkened hallways afraid of taking a chance. But in risking nothing I have been taking the greatest risk of all. So I am starting to cross some thresholds. Slowly, fearfully but with a grain of faith and hope. And tightly holding a small hand on either side of me.

*************************************
Copyright 2005 Regina Walker

Regina Walker is a psychotherapist in NYC. Her work has appeared in numerous publications including Hip Mama, widdershins, Mamaphiles 2, Moondance, Motherverse, and Literary Vision. She can be reached at cswcasac@aol.com.
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Resurrection, Part 2


“Karma is a boomerang”

I have been remembering my dreams lately. This is an enormous anomaly as I normally sleep the sleep of the dead and awake feeling that merely a moment has passed.

My dreams recently have been invaded by people whom I have lost. I dreamed of my father the other night who died nine years ago of cancer. In the dream he is apologizing for never really being there for me. I walk through the dream simply dumbfounded that he is there at all. I remember little of what he said to me in the dream and when I awake, of course, I realize he wasn’t really there.

I have also dreamed of my sister who has been dead for 25 years now. In the dream she is still 19 years old and I am my older, wiser, current version. I am overwhelmed in the dream and bombarding her with questions. “Where have you been? Why did you allow us to believe you were dead so long?”

She responds matter of factly that mistakes happen. She just went away for awhile and she plans to go away again. “You shouldn’t worry so much”. I remember that comment most from the dream as it is something she would say to me often 25 years ago.

I awake from these dreams uneasy and disoriented. Why am I channeling so much of my past? My sister and my father, though close in the sense of biology, remained distant in life. Their presence within the intimacy of my dreams leaves me uneasy and questioning.

And I have been dreaming of other people from my past who have been absent from my day to day life, in some cases, for many, many years. The business that remains unfinished with people in my life both dead and still living emerges.

I am moving away from the belief that I am what I have been through. That belief has limited me but I have not realized it until very recently. Unconsciously and unknowingly I have accepted that what I have done and who I have been before would always be the determining factor on what I could be and do in the future.

I feel in some way I am breaking free. I have begun to see the future as a blank canvas on which the shadows of my past no longer linger. I can create what I want which is both frightening and freeing.

“You shouldn’t worry so much.”

And yet I do. Or I did. Though I fight against myself I know I cannot be in two places at once. The past with all its’ pain and glory is no longer. And the future is mine alone.

**********************************
Copyright 2005 Regina Walker

Regina Walker is a writer and psychotherapist in NYC. She can be reached at cswcasac@aol.com.
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It's Like Angry Sex...Only, Tastes Better

By Elizabeth Katkics Thompson

There’s this place I know, out-of-the-way although easily reached, where the sky meets the earth in the midst of gentle rolling hills dressed in soothing shades of green and lavender.

Soothing currents of air, sweetly scented in herbs and berries, gently intersect amid shade and stippled rays of sunshine that fracture the shadows with multi-colored warmth that rouse the little hairs on the back of the neck.

There is peace, and quiet. And happiness abounds.

You can’t get there by car, bus or train and need not pack a bag or a map, because it’s never in the same spot except easy to find.

**heavy sigh**

It’s my happy place.

When I lose all sense of control and nothing seems to go right -- and I’m not right, so the kids are not right -- I go to my happy place.

The kitchen.

**dog begins to bark**

“Daddy’s home!”

**slamming front door**

“Where’s Mommy?”

**banging pots**

“Nevermind.”

**walks into kitchen and loosens tie**

“Any news about Mom?”

**wiping brow, adjusting all four burners to full blast**

Here’s the thing – I’ve spent the last twelve years raising four children and killer dust bunnies – I cannot speak a complete and coherent sentence, consecutively.

I mean, in my mind, it makes absolute and total sense. But, one way or another, the words begin mingling with thoughts and, wel, listen:

“They’re releasing her from the hospital today….they can’t tell me what’s wrong with her….but they’re sending her home….called the cardiologist myself…test results aren’t all in….and he’s sending her home….should have some answers in a couple of days….told me not to worry….can’t tell me why I shouldn’t….should have some answers soon….did I mention that they’re sending her home today?”

**ears begin to ring**

“Maybe it’s her heart, maybe not….”

**warning lights begin to flash**

“….I’m thinking…lips turning purple and fingertips turning blue…definitely not good!”

**lips quiver and hands begin to buzz**

“Telling me not to worry….WTF am I supposed to do….sit here…take his word for it and watch everything turn to shit?!?”

**all system shut down…and I am re-routed to happy place**

“We’re having steamed chicken with fresh tomato, garlic and basil salsa. Cauliflower mashed with butter and chives with a loaf of crusty bread on the side. And for dessert, I made you some of my tiramisu. Oh, and I made a pot of chicken soup to take to Mom tomorrow.”

**blank stare**

“What?”

**shakes head**

“You’re nuts!” He says.

And my happy place quickly dissolved into sweltering house overflowing with empty DVD covers and snack food wrappers, bits and pieces of Polly Pockets and dried-up Play Doh, kitchen scraps, empty grocery bags and used mixing bowls.

But the smells were heavenly!!

And I shrugged my shoulders, grabbed my husband by his collar and kissed him deeply. You see, my husband is on a mission -- an ongoing quest it seems -- to successfully synchronize our sex drives.

Lately, we suck.

I don’t mean to imply that we do this in a sexual manner or that it’s not for the lack of wanting.

Our timing is a little off, that’s all.

Most days my husband and I meet at our coffee maker, giggling, whispering and openly flirting with each other.

“Ooooh, you smell good!”

“Yeah, and do I look as good as I smell?”

“Oh yeah – and I bet you taste just as good too!”

“Just wait ‘til tonight!”

And we’d give each other a playful grope before heading in two different directions.

I’d go about my day, typically spent behind the wheel of our minivan, feeling all saucy; my husband would sit behind his desk and fantasize on what exactly it is I have planned for him for the night.

Psst, after 15 years of marriage, I can still be very…um…creative.

We’d sail through supper, rush through baths and homework -- giving each other sexy glances and sometimes a sexual innuendo or two -- skip story time and tuck our four kiddies in for the night.

After all, we’ve waited all day for just the right moment. The children are visibly asleep. We turn down the lights. We get all cozy…and then swiftly fall asleep.

To be honest -- after a full day of coping with tons of extended family issues, cajoling four unhappy children and juggling a book of nasty customers (or visa-versa) -- even the best laid plans are usually the only thing getting…you know…around this full house.

Oh well.

Later, watching the kids clean the last of their plates and listening to their praises of, “That chicken soup was awesome,” and “You are the best cooker, ever,” I sipped on a deliciously crispy glass of chardonnay and found myself feeling pleasantly full.

“How was dinner?”

**taking the last of my bread**

“Great! But, you didn’t have to cook on such a hot day.”

**finishing my wine**

“You know how I get….when I’m all nervous or pissed off….I have to cook!”

**shaking his head**

“Yeah, I’m sorry you feel so shitty, but it’s like, I’m sort of excited, too.” He says.

**synchronizing watches**

“At least, I know I’ll be eating well for the next couple of days.”

**laughing and snorting wine through my nose**

“Yeah, it’s kind of like angry sex….only….it tastes better!”

*******************************
Copyright 2005 Elizabeth Katkics-Thompson

Elizabeth Katkics-Thompson is a mother to four children and has been married for 13 years to her husband, Pete. Liz also writes a weekly column entitled, Married With A Whole Lot of Children at Just For Mom and has had essays posted at The Imperfect Parent. You can read the ongoing adventures of her life at This Full House, the blog. Liz lives and writes in New Jersey.
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