centre of the universe - the dreaming

So. Only one of these scenarios really happened in the really really world.

You might not know this, but I spent the weekend at a monastery while His Nibs and the kids stayed at home. And do you know what happened there? A whole lot of sex. Serioulsy. Couldn't get away from it. A staggering amount of sex. What's the collective noun for an awful lot of copulation? There was a nuzzle of sex. (Wait; can you *have* a collective noune for a verb? It does seem rather counter-intuitive, doesn't it? Maybe it's a collective adjective then.) There was nuzzling and caressing and humping and fucking every time I turned around. I am *totally* not complaining. At a MONASTERY (and yes, the Benedictines are Roman Catholic).

Now, in the dream I had last night (yes, that first part actually happened), Neuba and her J and their gorgeous baby, and Darth Xander and *his* J and *their* gorgeous baby, and a bunch of people who haven't any gorgeous babies at all were all staying in a hotel of sorts. It seemed to me that Neuba and her J were living in this apartment/condo complex, because they had a bathtub in the main room. It was a large clawfoot tub with coloured water and jets. And Yours Truly was about 5 months pregnant. (**sigh**) I mean, lots of other things happened, but that was the real salient point. Oh, and my mum showed up. She and I and my grandmother had a *really* long conversation last night (thank you, mugwort tea!), but I wasn't expecting to see mum again tonight. She was disdainful of all the crap I'd brought to the hotel/apartment (with good right). She also told me to lose some weight (she's been telling me that since I was eleven, and she's right).

So a big hey to Neuba and her J and their wee wiggler, and to Darth Xander and his J and their wee wobbler. You guys seem to be doing great!

Also, babies and toddlers from now on shall be called 'wigglers and wobblers', and in the store I own that has toys, handmade clothes, and other kidstuff, that's how their section shall be labelled. Make it so.

Labels: babies, dreams, smart folks

I was driving home after work this afternoon.

No, that isn't right.

My heart aches. I don't want to listen to the radio until the tempestuous news cycle is finished with this. In fact, I don't even want to share it with you. I'm going to, though. A three-year-old boy went missing in Abuquerque. His mother confessed to burying his body in a playground. She did this after she had laid down with him on the play structure, placed her hand over his mouth and nose, and strangled him. She had second thoughts, and performed CPR on him, and revived him. Then, she strangled him again. The CNN news story is here.

The woman reportedly told police she didn't want her son to grow up feeling unloved and alone.

So she killed him.

I cannot stop thinking about this woman and her little boy.

On the heels of the vitriolic rant posted here a couple of days ago, I am beginning to wonder...to seriously wonder what the hell is going on. What kind of hell do you have to be in to murder your baby? What kind of hell did she go through when she was a child to convince herself that her child's death would save him from the horrors of a life she herself cannot endure. What kind of hell will she live through for the rest of her life?

The pictures in my head are vivid and horrible.

I don't want to hear or read any comments about how the mother should be put to death or sterilised or tortured. I don't, in fact, want to hear anything about this. I want to turn off the outside world right now, but I can't unhear the report. I can't unread what I've read ...unknow what I know... This will be all over talk radio and newspapers and blogs in a few hours, if it isn't already, and yes, I am contributing to that. I am contributing because my soul is shaken. Because maybe in writing about this, I can calm my thoughts.

What I want is ...I want the mother to heal. I want her to be rehabilitated, not vilified. No, I'm not insinuating she's not guilty, or shouldn't go to prison if found guilty. No, I'm not saying that she oughtn't be punished.

She will never know her son's joyful, pure laughter. She will never kiss his soft cheek. She will never hold his hand in the park again. No first day of kindergarten. No bike rides. No splashing in puddles, no endless board game afternoons. No clutching hugs, and no little voice saying "I love you, Mummy". She has taken the greatest gift, the greatest honour someone can be given, and she has destroyed it.

And I need to believe that she has done this thing because she honestly (however delusionally and mistakenly) believed she was protecting her baby. I need to believe that.

Two years ago, a frightened and messed-up young woman gave birth to a baby in the toilet in a local store. She left the baby in the toilet and left the store.

Another woman abandoned her baby on a -29 February morning in 2007. She waited and watched until she saw someone in the house of the doorstep she left her daughter on.

Please, God, send them to me. These broken spirits, these children whose mothers cannot bear them.

If I could be mother to the world, believe you me I would. If I could gather up each of these children in my arms, I would.

All alone I didn't like the feeling
All alone I sat and cried
All alone I had to find some meaning
In the center of the pain I felt inside

All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water, and a million years gone by

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns
I will hear you in the sound of the waves
I will know you when I come, as we all will come
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I heal this heart of sorrow
All alone I raise this child
Flesh and bone, he's just
Bursting towards tomorrow
And his laughter fills my world and wears your smile

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns
I will hear you in the sound of the waves
I will know you when I come, as we all will come
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water and a million years gone by
-Beth Nielsen Chapman, "Sand and Water"

Labels: babies, breaks my heart, just wrong, Wishes

I look at The Nipper's feet, which are *considerably* smaller than The Captain's were, and I think about the first day I met him. He was wrinkly and covered in vernix, and he had the world's most confused look on his face. His face was all smooshed up (so was yours when you made that, the shortest, and most important journey of your life...you can travel all over the world, deep under the sea, even into space, and you will never again make a journey like that one. You'll never travel such a great distance in so short of a space ever again) and he was Very Concerned.

I held his tiny hand, and smiled at his tiny feet, with his wee toes all splayed out. I said, "hello, baby." He said, "NNngggggeeeiiiiiiuuuuuaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

I said, "We've been waiting an awfully long time to meet you."

He said, "guh, guh, guh, nnnnnggeeeuiiiiieeeuuugaaaaaahhhhh!!!"

I said, "welcome."

His Nibs said, "He's perfect. Just like you."

Labels: babies, feet, His Nibs, The Nipper