I realized: In clinging to my connection with my daughter, I am trying to control it, and, in a way, to control her. And I can't. And I don't want to.
I take a break from picturesque bike rides and drinking beer on the banks of the city's canals to muse on how the Dutch handle this whole "balance" thing.
On wanting room for angst on a rainy Sunday but needing to pull it together and parent instead.
I met Ted because my daughter wouldn't stop talking about his son. They went to daycare together at the time (before Ted left us for Los Angeles!!), and she would come home talking about him every day, to the point where I realized, "We need to have this kid over." Ted and his awesome wife Janina came, too, and we ate bagels and drank bloody marys and talked about living meaningful lives and it was, as Ted would later put it, "A great hang." Fast-forward to a month ago when I got to see an amazing work of art that Ted composed as part of BAM's Next Wave festival (which I wrote about the other day). It made me curious to know more about his creative process, how he managed to make a living as a composer and how he balanced art-making with fatherhood. Read on for his characteristically thoughtful answers -- and do yourself a favor and check out his work at tedhearne.com.
My 18-month-old is hysterical, so I eat my feelings and give thanks for having an incredible partner. And I avow my love for her, no matter whether she's happy or sad, sweet or sour, from now until the end of time.
It's humbling, this business of being a mom...channeling all of your creative and intellectual abilities into getting a 7-week-old human to close her eyes, fall asleep, and stay asleep...
People have been asking me to start blogging again, and I'm flattered... but what do you blog about after giving birth? The way my skin stretched in ways I thought it never could, and out she came? (Sorry if that grosses you out.) The way my heart has stretched in ways I never thought it could? Doing flip-flops and bungee jumps, stretching wide... wider...