It continually fascinates me to watch Molly imitate me. Functioning like a mirror set up to show me exactly how she perceives my parenting. Somedays her teddies and dollies are repetitively put on the naughty step and told to say sorry. I bite my lip as I watch her role play, thinking 'am I overdoing the discipline?', 'Is that all she sees our relationship as? A never ending time out?'. But there are other days, when I walk into her room in the morning and see all her toys snuggly tucked into bed, or when she lays dolly over her knee and rubs her back. In those moments I think I must be doing something right.
'Dolly', the recipient of Molly's mock parenting, was Moll's
Christmas present this year, I made her with this tutorial.
The other day she sat for an hour with 'dolly' on her knee and read her stories, book after book, inventing the narrative in her own native language. It reminded me to not roll my eyes so much next time she follows me around the house, holding a book and exclaiming 'Mummy's knee! Mummy's knee!'
What are some of your favourite children's books? Me and Moll are equally obsessed with Calef Brown's Polkabats and Octopus Slacks. This book has been torn to pieces and taped together many times, the sign of a much loved book.
A little update: Finch has finally started sleeping through the night. The second day that he received 3 solid meals he went from a 4 hour waker, to sleeping 12 hours straight! It seems he was just way too hungry to sleep all night long. I feel like a whole new person.
The post brought a big envelope the other day containing our Deed of Name Change. I could say 'it's been a long time coming' but it hasn't. A year is not an extraordinary amount of time to find yourself with a different name, a different means of identifying yourself, a different identity? But it is time. And I'm ready, though It will take time to adjust to our new name. To grow into it.
Keeping my married name was no longer an option to me. Losing 'Magee' was never intended to be a purging of the kid's biological fathers presence (who lives on a different continent and is not involved in their lives in any way**). I am not interested in changing our names as a means of revenge. But I no longer feel comfortable with having the ownership of 'him' implied in my surname and consequently It would seem a little strange for the kid's to have a different surname to me when I am their sole parent.
In molly's first year of life, so delighted was I that Molly had made us a family, I would proudly make statements like 'Family Magee joined the library today' and 'It's Family Magee's first Christmas'. But as soon as I set foot on that plane I felt I could no longer make those statements. I'd take a breath to say it and then I'd stop myself, because 'Family Magee' was broken, incomplete.
We were three and then we were two. But along came Captain Finch and restored us to our former tri-glory. And we needed a new title to give our new family.
Somewhat controversially, I've decided not to return to my maiden name. That decision was almost instinctual right from the moment it looked like 'things' might be going wrong. Returning to being a 'Reid' felt like a step back. It's not that I had an unhappy childhood or teenage years, but I never felt comfortable in my own skin back then - and that's what 'Alli Reid' conjured up to me - low self esteem, insecure and afraid. That Alli is gone and I refuse to step back into her shoes, despite how tempting it's been at times.
So why Steen? Steen is my middle name, but to me it has never been just a word to bridge the gap between forename and surname. Many of my close friends refer to me as 'Steen' or 'Steeners', it is the title I have chosen to give all my creative endeavors since I was old enough to make birthday cards with glitter glue. It was my great grandmothers surname and my grandmothers maiden name. I never met my grandmother, she died before I was born and my great-grandmother died when I was an infant. But I have grown up knowing my great aunties, still referred to as 'The Steen Girls'. They are a force of nature; strong, determined and big hearted women. Having been given Steen as my middle name always felt quite a compliment and indeed a standard to live up to. Unfortunately the name died out when each of The Steen Girls married and took on their husband's name. So I guess us becoming Steen's is a way of resurrecting the name and hopefully carrying it on. I always thought if I had children, I'd give one of them Steen as a middle name. I never expected it would become our family name. But here we are. Steen's and proud.
Meet the Family
Allison Steen, Finch Timshel Steen and Molly Joan Steen (my name sounds so short now! especially since I usually go by Alli Steen. But I'll get used to it.)
So here I go using it for the first time: Family Steen got our first family picture today. What did you do?
** but it's easier that way and I am can honestly say now that I'm grateful for the space and feel the kids do not lack in any love
Friday, 14 January 2011
This day a year ago me and Molly boarded a plane...
I frequently find myself drifting back to memories from this time a year ago, when I was so blissfully unaware what was just a week ahead of me.
It's like she's still out there, the year ago me. Somewhere on the time continuum she is tidying up the wrapping paper from her daughters first christmas and discussing baby names with her husband for their unborn child. She's happy and in love. And I want to hold her hand as she begins to face the pain ahead of her, the months of being strung along, the awkwardness of finding herself pregnant and alone. But I can't. Instead I whisper to the wind:
We never know how high we are
till we are called to rise
and then if we are true to plan
our statures touch the skies
(emily dickenson)
Let's hope that 2010 will be safely filed away forever as the worst year of my life.
Only onwards and upwards for 2011 please! No more looking back, there are new frontiers ahead of me: Home owning, raising two children, figuring out what kind of a career I want (now that I'm all grown up), and who knows, maybe I may enter into the scary world of dating this year...
Thank you all so much for your support and listening ears this year, It's meant a lot.
Molly turned two last week. Unfortunately her birthday was spent unpacking boxes and hanging curtain poles, but it all needed done and she won't remember. I can hardly believe it's only been two years, It seems longer. So much has happened, so much has changed. I feel different, Motherhood changed me. It was like I found myself for the first time. I found something I could do, something I was born to do. Does that mean I'm great at it? No No No, but I do know how to do it and no one else can be Molly's mummy but me. It's my job. My vocation.
That's a lot for just two little years. When I look back at photos of myself from two years ago, I barely recognise myself. Who was that girl? I'm starting to agree that "A person is a collection of selves. We change over time, we never stay the same on our journey to the grave."
And then there is the Mollster. I can't believe how much she has changed in the last year. She took her first few unassisted steps a few weeks after her first birthday. Now she runs and climbs everywhere. These days she is a pro-jumper she just seems to bounce everywhere. A year ago she hadn't uttered her first word, now I can have a full fledged conversation with her. And now she is a big sister. And the best big sister I can imagine. She adores her little brother. ADORES him. She can't stop kissing and hugging him. His name is the first thing she says in the morning 'Wheres Finch? Mummy!'
She likes to join in on tummy time with her baby bro
She is a wonder. Making friends and winning fans wherever she goes. She won't let anybody push her about. Strong willed and full of dances. I love her. I like here.
I stumbled upon this image a few months ago and have been saving it for the right occasion. It is beautiful but it makes me teary.
Me? Well, I haven't been out of my painting clothes in over two weeks*. I've been ripping up carpet, stripping wallpaper, damp proofing and painting, painting, painting. I feel like it will never end. It's a little overwhelming but also very exciting. I can't believe It's mine...ours, all three of us with our very own bedrooms. I can't wait to get to the fun part of moving in furniture and hanging pictures on the walls.
In the meantime here is a picture of my boy, beautiful, smiley, very fond of rolling over and allllwaaays awake. I thought babies were supposed to be sleepy? Not this one, he doesn't like to miss a thing.
I want to point out that the shirt he is wearing here is actually Molly's. With a little bit of sleeve rolling they can fit the same clothes, crazy.
* Ok, Ok, I got out of my painting clothes once to see one of my hero's in the flesh. Mark Kermode, aka The Good Doctor, was doing a Q&A session and film screening in Belfast last week. If you're a movie lover you should definitely tune into the Kermode and Mayo Film Review Podcast. Even if you don't agree with him on everything you'll appreciate his convictions/rants and you'll have a little chuckle along the way.
This is my starstruck face, not the most flattering of faces, it has to be said.
Confession, I was extremely, embarrassingly late in registering Finch's birth. Here in the uk you need to make an extra special trip to 'The Registrar' (sounds like a bad thriller). So a full twelves weeks after Finch's birth I shamefully made my way to 'The Registrarrrrr'. Finch was all cosied up in the Baby Bojrn and Moll was toddling by my side. I wandered in and began with my red-faced apologies for my tardiness.
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Lady no.1: I was just saying to (lady no.2) that this couldn't be a birth registration because the baby looked far too old
Me: Yes, yes I'm so sorry, i'm terrible, I've just been so busy with these two
Lady no.2: You know your child benefit won't be fully backdated?
Me: yes, i'm sorry.
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It wasn't until I was working through some of the details on the form, namely the fathers details and my maritial status, that 'Lady no.1' looked up at me and said 'Ah , yes, you have been busy'.
'Uh yeah'
However, I am grateful for my tardiness on this issue. It gave me extra time to think carefully about his name. Names have been on my mind a lot lately. Should I change mine? if so, can I change the kids? Would I get consent to do so? Would I go back to my 'maiden' name? or should I chose a new one altogether? Blah Blah Blah.
With all these questions, doubts and ideas bubbling around in my head I had a good long think about Finch's name. I've never doubted his forename for a second, it is brim full of meaning and I love it. But, for reasons that shall remain unsaid for now, I felt he needed an extra middle name. But what?
As the precedent had been set, It would need to have meaning, the 'I just liked the way it sounded' approach doesn't really work with me. I started to think of the names of admirable, history-making men. 'Bartlet', the president from West Wing came to mind.
And then I stopped myself. I wised up. He already has Atticus freakin' Finch as a role model, perhaps I should give the little guy a break, and maybe even a bit of a reality check. He's human and fully capable of making mistakes, perhaps even massive ones. Just because he is 'The Man of the House' doesn't mean we'll be sitting at his feet asking him to pass on his wisdom and guidance. And Then I smiled. Because there had been a name (or a word more so), all along, just waiting for me to realise how perfect it was.
Around a year ago, In the midst of 'the unravelling' I became addicted to the debut record from Mumford and Sons. These songs were pretty much on repeat for about 6 months. One evening when I was listening to the album in the company of friends, my oh-so-special-lady-friend Ms. Heather Kerr jokingly said to me "um, Alli - did you write these songs? Are you a secret member of Mumford and Sons?". I laughed But I also breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't just me that thought these songs were so fitting for my crisis.
One particular song that spoke to me was this:
(Me and Heather now jovially refer to each other as 'brother' due to this very song.)
Hark
I won't go into it line by line, but I assure you, each sentence resonates strongly with me. It acknowledges the pain and desolation I feel but reminds me that whilst 'it may steal my innocence [but] it will not steal my substance'. It tells me that I am 'not alone in this'. It is particularly this verse that strikes deep within me:
"You are the mother, the mother of your baby child, the one to whom you gave life. And you have your choices, and that is what makes man great, his ladder to the stars"
I got to see Mumford and Sons in concert a few months ago. It was my first night away from Finch. I waited for this song anxiously, knowing it would bring up a lot of emotion in me. There were tears, there were hugs, there were even a few strange looks. But who cares, I threw my hands up in the air, closed my eyes and let the little bird inside my soul fly freely for a while.
(Photo taken of that very night by the very talented Mr Darren Anderson)
Upon falling in love with this song I researched the meaning behind the title. Timshel is Hebrew for 'Thou mayest'. The word is explored in John Steinbeck's book 'East of Eden' :
"The Hebrew word Timshel, which means ‘Thou mayest’ - gives man a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. It says the way is open... and throws it right back on a man.
‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods - for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.
And I feel that a man is a very important thing — maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed — because Timshel: ‘Thou mayest.’"
Timshel - It is resplendent with significance. It speaks with sorrow about the choices his father made. It empowers me by reminding me that I do have my choices. It is because I could run away that makes the staying so much sweeter.
And So this is my son's not-so-secret-anymore middle name. Finch Timshel Steen Magee. It's quite a mouthful and will probably not be used very often. But it's still important, at least to me. I could name him after all the most influential and nobel men in history but at the end of the day, he is his own little person with his own little (and large) choices to make. As his mother I cannot make his choices for him, I do not own him. Kahil Gibran says "you may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts." I must surrender to the fact that he has been granted free will, free choice
