Last Days As One

Ode to Nesting

I get up and there is so much to do

Make Solly eggs and clean his last night’s poo

Got a new couch one spot does not align

It’s making me go crazy - tears benign cuz I’m fine.

Really.

The drive to get things baby ready’s wild

Instinctual and in one way so reviled

Cuz what my body really needs its sleep

But clean I must cuz mother nature speaks

Oh no my other out th’ womb babe wakes!

Will I ever finish these blogs w’out breaks?

He’s sitting up, the monitor don’t lie

How long can I keep on, let toddler cry?

I will finish one more stanza, and rhyme, it won’t

Should I wash the clothes or give my feet a soak  ...

…Wait, I rhymed that (how awesome!) - despite toddler fussing

I’m growing one inside and out, see I’m crushing! (it)

That’s the end of the poem because I had to go get Solly out of his crib. Then I had to wash the bottom of the coffee table. Why? I have no idea. The nesting thing is crazy. It’s like the imperius curse in Harry Potter - like someone who likes to clean things and set up spaces has possessed my mind and body. I would usually prefer to write or work on a creative project in my “spare” time. But right now, I must order the butterfly decals I thought of at 3am in-between thoughts of how I’m going to mend the first giant riff in my two freshman ensembles (delivered to me via an email that had 19 screenshots of group chat messages on Valentine’s night), and if I should place the decals flying out of the crib like the image in the amazon picture, or do something more original.

What’s even weirder is, once all the things I can physically do are pretty much done, I slowly walk around during Solly’s naps like one of the Gray Garden’s women and turn objects over in my hands with a far off look while making pictures crooked so I can straighten them again.

I’m going to have a girl! What!? I want her to know that I’m totally excited to meet her and totally terrified all at the same time. I’m excited and terrified that she might and might not be like me. How cool would it be if she played soccer too! And how cool would it be if she hated sports and was totally into jewelry making? A girl brings up all these feelings being pregnant with a boy did not - like “will she encounter all the tough stuff I did in adolescence and puberty and though I’m sure she’ll be fine, will I be fine reliving that?!” Ha! Sounds selfish. It’s interesting that I teach the age I hated being most (9th grade) with much success because of how my intuition/guts knows their brains and hearts. But there is a healthy distance between us due to the controlled roles of student/teacher which make it safe. I spend 9am-5pm addressing teenage issues but then I am done when I drive away and nobody is sulking at dinner or crying at 2am because there was a group chat gossiping about them. Somebody told me that you’re a good parent at the age you were parented well and the age you weren’t can be harder territory. I had some good parenting the whole way through, but I don’t think adolescence is any parent’s strong suit. As I spin out into anxious thinking, I’m reminded by Rob that “smart people who love you have your back” - Abby Bartlett, West Wing, Season 4, Episode 8. I’m also reminded by Rob that “you don’t have to figure everything out.” Which hit me in a new way yesterday. I usually add the evil epilogue “right now” to that phrase. But what if I simply don’t have to figure it out ever? How freeing is that? And how confusing to internalize this idea in a brain structure like mine who confidently stands on the fact that she can think/create her way out of the nebulous “it” that keeps us full of fear and in a box. 

Anyway. I do want to write down some things my future daughter can read later in life as her mom sits down for a few minutes, only week(s) before her birth. 

To girl baby:

I am 37 weeks and five days pregnant. And I’m strangely choking up as I “address” you for the first time in writing. You are me. I am you. We’re all one right now. And that’s so much fun. I love walking around everywhere with you. Oh damn it, now I’m crying. I’m sitting upstairs at 1665 N Richmond Street #3 looking out the back window at a muddy winter sky and snowy roofs and two skyline buildings that are tall enough to see from Humboldt Park. Anyway, I so much have enjoyed our time together as one person. I love my big belly and I love that people see us together - even if you get more attention and that’s where their eyes go. I have not had a hard pregnancy. All the songs you’ve heard for 9 months? Real talk. They were all sung to your big brother, and because we’re one, to you too, so I didn’t feel the need to sit in a chair and sing to my belly button :)

What else. So, I’m super nervous and excited to meet you. It’s not a bad nervous, it’s just that human scared of the unknown that I’ll get to know in time. You’re moving around a lot while I write. Super cool. You move like how I remember sleeping with my littler sister to be - slow soft rolls of another groggy, lovely little being very close to you. You don’t kick or punch much. I do feel you playing with your hands and wiggling your feet. Also, thanks for being head down no matter if we do this VBAC style or ‘slice and scoop”’style. You like to stretch out when I’m sleeping and your feet are high up into my chest. I get up multiple times a night now and it’s like someone told you you could have a little party before settling back down which I find kind of funny. We’ve done a lot together over these 9 months. We moved from Wabash in the South Loop to Humboldt Park. We started year three as Theatre Dept. Head at ChiArts, where they’ve all known me pregnant more than not pregnant. We went to Disney about a month ago and last week the other arts heads threw you a little party and when I gave the extra cake out to the freshman the sophomores were hard core hating on me even though I give them snacks out of my little box on my desk everyday. They need to get over themselves. Your bump on my front has been a joy to many students as they guessed your gender in October, give/gave name suggestions, and say hi to you and I when we walk in the room (“Hi Baby Calhoun, hi Mama Calhoun!”). I want you to know … well … a ton of stuff. But I don’t want to overwhelm you, seeing as you’re about to make this rough move from a 24/7 warm bath to bright lights, clothes, a loud toddler, and cold winter air. That’s gotta be tough. But I got your back. 

I want you to know I’m not super girly, but I’m creative and super sensitive to people and life and the human condition… I guess I’ve felt those female self care things (like jewelry and nails and hair) were a waste of time because I valued running and being outside and mud and writing and theatre more. And there’s only so much time in the day, you know? Now. If you like those hair/nail things, we’ll totally do them, okay? You can like whatever you want. I don’t want to let you down.

The nine year old in me (because Anne Lamott says we’re all the ages we’ve ever been) - (oh gosh I’m crying again darn it) - would really like you to know how great the basics are: sky, grass and water and how lovely wide open space and clouds are too. Running too. I was really good at it, but you totally don’t have to be - it’s just a great way to feel your body on the ground and in the dirt and in space. When you get overwhelmed remember sky, grass, water and running/walking. The nine year old in me would also like to tell you to soak up being a kid and not rush it. And if you get scared it’s about to end when you hit 11 or 12, don’t worry, you’ll find that you can retain a lot of it even when you become a grown up - it’s just hard to convince people of this because it will feel like a best friend is leaving. They’re not. They’re just going down the street for a candy ring and a slushy at the 7-11 to give puberty its space (puberty needs a lot of space). The childhood playfulness will return though and stay if you make a home for it.

Okay - your bro just woke up - I gotta go get him ; ) Sometimes he wakes up crying and I think he’s had a bad dream. When you ask him about it, he’s pretty vague and just says things like “sleep sack off” and “cars on pajamas” because he’s 22 months old and that’s the way he tells me he’s sad or scared.

Anyway, we only have a little more time together in this way. I love you here and I’ve loved taking you on our two-in-one ride for almost 38 weeks. Maybe during long car trips in the future, you can look back and take a tip from your womb self about how little you asked “are we there yet” and how much you enjoyed the journey. Granted car rides have restricting seatbelts and the womb ride had a jacuzzi, but just saying. 

You’ll probably have a lot of questions. I’ll do my best to provide a list of advice to address some life things preemptively. But we’ll have more time to discuss when they come up in a few years.

“Mama’s list of important life advice things”

--have humor

--lean into compassion / empathy / equity (for self and others)

--play lots

--hard work is good

--making friends with smart loving people who have your back, and keeping them close

--people who make things plural or not plural at their own discretion (“Starbuck” or “Jewel’s Osco’) are not trying to bug you - they’re just doing their best

--The West Wing will seem very outdated to you, but not the relationships and connections you see in the cast on the show

--snow in shadows melts slower than in the sun so if you want to build a snowman because you just watched Frozen or because you just want to, use the sunny snow to pack him, and then place him in the shade for his longest life

--black cars and white cars in northern cities both show winter slush and dirt equally 

--in middle school, you might disappear as the person you once were during 7th grade. If this seems to put you in danger of not reappearing, we might take a year long trip as a family (finances depending) and homeschool you this year. If you are not in danger, I will stand beside you as you become slightly monstrous for a year and then find yourself again in 8th grade.

--Your brother had two extra alone years with us so he may have a harder time sharing attention, but he will work at it

--I put pink, blue, yellow and green butterflies flying out of the peaked roof ceiling above your crib in our cool upstairs attic type space that is your room/hallway. I copied the amazon image. I apologize for not being more original. Sometimes exhaustion makes you normal and that’s okay.

--if you are put off by having two grounded, yet out of the box theatre parents who are also teachers and might be spontaneously weird as well as slightly critical of every teacher you will have - you’ll have your brother to confide in.

--You can totally be an artist. You can also totally be a doctor. As long as you contribute something of yourself to the world.

--People deserve a lot of grace and second chances - especially those under 18 

--this is a funky election year and you might be born the year a Jew, a woman or gay man is elected president. That’s super cool. 

--shadows are fun and so are bubbles. Neither will last forever and that’s okay.

--There will be parts of old fairy tales and Disney movies that are super racist, sexist ect. Moana is cool though.

--cell phones will be a part of your life like they never were mine. So will social media. Please listen to my advice about all that stuff. I work with high schoolers and let’s let stories of their mistakes be enough to keep you from making some of them too.

--if someone tells you that your hand is bigger than your face - don’t put your hand to your face, just nod and agree.

--If a friend lets you down or betrays you, it’s worth opening and trusting to make more of them instead of assuming everybody will be like this and closing off your openness to love 

--if you have fellow students who derail your classroom and the teacher is at a loss, find ways to read lots of books under your desk and just go on with your learning. A Wrinkle In Time and Harry Potter are good ones. 

--hurt people hurt people - allow your anger to fizzle into empathy and either heal the relationship or maintain a polite respectful distance

--If some books are missing girl main characters, just change the lead boy’s name to a girl’s name.

--if you don’t want to look too stiff when you dance, take some theatre movement classes - you’ll always know where your hips are after that.

--if a little child says “play with me” - you god damn better play with them.

--stick with the five second rule for food that drops on the floor except if it’s a banana or ice cream - they are no second rule category foods

That’s it for now. 

I can’t wait to meet you! 

It’s gonna be one lovely, great adventure.

Your Mama.

PS: Here we are together at the Garfield Park Observatory (pic by a ChiArts alum) on February 1st 2020 when I was about 36 weeks : )