Generations

There's a certain face that D. makes, where I can see my dad in him. It's usually when I'm pushing him in the stroller, and he gets really intense. His lips purse and his eyes go wide. I was surprised the first time I noticed it. I shouldn't have been though. I think D. looks a lot like my brother, and my brother looks a lot like my dad, so sure...it makes sense. I guess it wasn't something I wanted to see though.

I haven't spoken to my dad in more than ten years. In that time, I've only written him twice. The first time was to tell him I got married. He sent me a $150 check as a wedding present, and I shredded it. I didn't want his money in lieu of a relationship, and I didn't want him to think I was just writing him to get money either. More recently, I wrote to let him know he had a grandson.

This estrangement began after many years of my reaching out, having some sort of unfulfilling interaction with him where I came away feeling rejected and hurt. Now, as an adult, I can see he probably didn't mean any of it. He is a poor communicator, he's emotionally unavailable, but not a bad person. He had extraordinarily bad judgment when he got married without telling me, when he moved to Chicago without letting me know. The former probably happened because he didn't know how to tell me that he had a new wife. He felt he was sparing my feelings by not telling me. The latter? I have no idea. Maybe he justified it by telling himself he was busy, he'd get around to writing me, or perhaps he thought I didn't really care anyway. But as a newly independent 20-something, after many years of this tense dance, I told myself I couldn't take the rejection anymore, and I cut all ties.

Of course, I've wondered every now and then if I did the right thing. It's helped me heal a bit, but I always imagine my dad getting old and dying, this rift still between us. I don't want that. But I also don't want to start the old cycle of reaching out, feeling hurt, reaching out again. What I want is for him to reach out to me this time. But I don't know if that will ever happen.

And now I have this new little person in my life. He's a physical reminder of my dad. And a I can't help but think, in some superstitious way, that the resemblance is for a reason. Is the universe telling me I can't just turn away?

What I am is what I am

D. is blissfully asleep for the first time today--well, sort of if you don't count his passing out in the stroller during our morning walk. He's snuggled into the inside of my Boppy pillow on the couch next to me. It's not standard napping procedure, but I'll take it. And I feel like I don't have much to write, but still, I want to claim this time as my own and put some words on the page...any words will do!

I was telling T. last night that being a mom is one big mindfuck. You spend a lot of time craving the company of adults, wishing you could just have an hour of your old, unencumbered life back, and then when you do get a break all you want to do is go spend time with your kid. "Huh," he said, "I don't feel that way at all." I don't know whether he's lucky or I am.

I'm recovering from a weekend with a house guest. A old friend came all the way from New York to visit, and by the time she left I was totally drained for trying to balance everyone's needs, including my own need to be a good mom/host/friend/etc. Maybe that's it. I just have to give up the idea of being a good anything, and just be what I am.

Outside world

D. is getting interested in the outside world. Favorite things so far: windows, mirrors, faces and voices. AND the four paintings I created for him, which now hang above his changing table. He is most enamored of Cosmic Dog and Cat, and Space Bee.