Eliza

About this author:

This writing mama is coming back to the written word after a child bearing-induced hiatus. A long history of writing and teaching fiction will hopefully make re-entry not so painful, but the truth remains to be seen...

My Articles:

1
June 26th, 2009

Music of a Different Sort for a Mother’s and Baby’s Ears

We were all tired. 

My four-year old was exhausted from a day of heavy play at Stinson Beach; my eleven-month old was pooped from missing his morning nap so that a friend could drive both our kids to the beach, and my husband and I were tired because we’d just run the Dipsea Race from Mill Valley to Stinson before playing three hours worth of Frisbee, sand castle building, and chase-the-crawling baby. 

Both kids fell asleep the minute we got in the car to drive home, but I knew that my son needed more than the thirty-five minutes of sleep that the drive afforded.  So I unloaded my husband and daughter at our house and kept driving sleeping Asa round and round the town of Larkspur.

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0
March 24th, 2009

The Voices that Reside in Every Mother’s Head

For the better part of the last year or two, I have had the incessant and annoying company of a small but loud voice in my head that catalogues every virtuous/maternal/helpful deed I perform throughout the day.

“Look at me, I’m doing the laundry. Now I’m ordering more diapers and wipes online. Thank God for me. And now I’m remembering everybody’s jackets and hats and snacks as I head out the door, and on my way out I’ll take out the trash and put those letters in the mailbox. Check, check, check.”

With each action completed, I itemized all the ways in which my being at home with our children was necessary, beneficial. How hard I was working! How much was getting done because of me! And, yet, no one had ever questioned the importance of my role. Not one person in my life had so much as commented on the way I have chosen to spend my time: raising our children.

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2
February 13th, 2009

My Son is ALL Boy

Asa is six and a half months old.  A boy in the house, amidst all of Adeline’s girliness.

Such a solid little person, in every sense.  Physically, he is dense.  Fruitcake dense.  Nearly off the charts in the percentiles the pediatricians give you.  If he’s in the 98th percentile for height and weight, what do the other two percent look like? 

When you pick him up, it’s a commitment.  Not like other kids, who you can carry and continue to buzz around, picking up toys, making lunch.  Holding Asa with one arm is sustainable for only a short period of time before your wrist begins to ache and your shoulder starts slumping forward in a way that can’t be healthy. 

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