Zen and the Art of Renaming a Blog

Do not adjust your television sets; you have, in fact, reached Zen and the Art of Cloth Diaper Maintenance.  I’ve just renamed it The Grey Seeker.  I’ve been feeling a bit stifled lately.  I have wanted to start a blog for years, but only found the courage and will to do so when I started writing about parenting stuff.  I love writing on subjects like homebirth, breastfeeding, and cloth diapers.  I still want to talk about those things because they’re still a big part of my life. 

But I also need to talk about other fascinations in my life -- history and philosophy, politics and society, spirituality and trees, lions, tigers, and bears.  We have an owl that likes to sit on our flagpole at dusk and hoots at his or her mate, perched in another tree in the neighborhood.  I HAVE to write about that.  I get so excited about my latest cooking and crafting adventures, but I can’t talk about cooking and crafting on a blog named Zen and the Art of Cloth Diaper Maintenance.  It just doesn’t work in my mind; it doesn’t compute.  The result is a semi-abandoned, yet truly loved (by me) blog.

It's more than that, though.  I'm spending more time coming up with catchy titles and themes than I am writing about what is on my mind and in my heart.  I'm stealing from paying homage to works of art I admire, instead of showing people who I really am.  I'm hiding, and I don't want to hide anymore.

It’s time for a change.  Not something to replace Zen and the Art of Cloth Diaper Maintenance, but something to include it and more.  The Grey Seeker.  A place where I can talk about cloth diapers.  A place where I can talk about my zen garden.  A place where I can talk about whatever I want and, as always, try to find the balance, the Zen, the Grey of life. 

And I’m not going to change it again in another six months.  Really.  I’m not. 






*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Oh, who am I kidding? I've already changed it again twice in the past hour.  I guess what I'm trying to say here is: Under Construction Till Further Notice.  And possibly forever.

Practicing What I Preach: The Ocean of Optimism

I like to preach optimism.  If you come to me with a problem, I’m likely to break into song.  Ok, I don’t go that far.  But I do try to get people to see the positive.  Life is a vast ocean of possibilities, all swimming or scooting or gliding around, waiting to be chosen.  You can tread water in this vast ocean, swirling up all the possibilities around you.  Or you can stay perfectly still, and sink to the bottom like a stone. 

So I’m laying here nursing Scarlett… again… And she’s refusing to take a nap…. again…. And she’s doing the really annoying scooching move where she has her legs firmly planted against my legs and her ferocious fist is securing a painful handful of my skin.  Every time I start to try and scooch away so I can get up, she feels it, and scooches with me.  She is so needy that she can’t even take a nap without me. 

And I’m listening to Chuck play with Danley without me… again…. And what emotions are floating to the surface of this self-defined optimist? Resentment, jealousy, and irritability.  Its not fair.  When Chuck is home, he doesn’t ever have to worry about things like dishes or laundry.  Or nursing.  He doesn’t have to make sure the bills are paid or the account isn’t overdrawn.  He gets to play, play, play with Danley.  I would love to be able to do nothing but play with Danley all day.  Or would I?

Wait.  What? Is this the optimism I’ve been preaching about? Is this the same Marry Poppins who tries to shove sugar down everyone’s throat? Nope.  This is one bitter woman, I think to myself as I look down at the little ball of smush suckling away at my breast. I am nowhere near that blue, wet ocean.  I am ablaze with acrimonious flames. And I’m burning pretty hot when the sentence, “Dani is playing with her daddy,” could possibly flame my fire of discontent. 

It’s time to stop, drop, and roll.  Let’s try this again.

I get to peacefully lie here nursing my baby as long as I want.  I don’t have to worry about what Dani is doing out there by herself.  I don’t have to feel like I need to rush this time with Scarlett so I can get a little playing in with Dani before the next load of laundry needs to be folded.  Dani is playing with her daddy.  What a wonderful sentence! She is so lucky that she gets to spend today playing with Daddy all day long.  

And I am so lucky that I can lay here nursing this amazing ball of smush.  I can take my time to admire in wonderment this tiny, perfect being as she slowly drifts off to dreamland.  As she drifts, she starts doing that really adorable scooching move where she has her legs propped up against my legs and her squishy little arm is carelessly dangling over my breast.  Every time I start to try and scooch away so I can get up, she feels it, and scooches with me.  She loves me so much that she doesn’t even want to take a nap without me.

I am the luckiest woman on the Earth to have such a wonderful family.  Maybe I have time to play one game of matching with Dani and Daddy before that next load of laundry needs to be folded.  I smile as I quietly lift myself…

…And, she’s awake.  DAMMIT!




***This post was originally written under my previous blog name, Zen and the Art of Cloth Diaper Maintenance.***