Better one

When I put Ezra to sleep millions of thoughts fly into my mind like colourful butterflies and they are beautiful. Usually my thoughts are beautiful or should be so if I try to think about pleasant things more. Sometimes those thoughts are little melancholic and nostalgic, mostly they are sweet and tender like my baby’s dreams.

I love when he falls asleep and I can see how peaceful he is, how innocent and miraculous. Every baby is a miracle, but I came to realise this only after a year I think. I never thought it would be so true when people used to say that you only feel real love towards your child after she’s one, because the circle of some phase is closed and you can see clearly what all that was about.

Those hard times of first months when I just started to nurse Ezra, the almost 4 months of colicky period, when he had terrible winds and I couldn't help him much, then those times when I tried to train him to sleep… I know more is to come, but this first year is unique, makes my heart melt, because I know this was about building the physical and emotional fundament for Ezra to keep growing up and becoming an excellent person.

Time has flown. I mean that’s how people say, but I don’t quite agree with that. Time has gone by just as I’ve expected – on its time. Time is wise. Rather Hashem is.

Now I just walked by the small sofa and recalled Ezra when he was two months old, he would fall asleep on my chest and then I would put him on that sofa very very slowly so he stayed asleep and I could go to cook dinner. Then I would come back on my tiptoes to check him and tried my best to walk so that our laminate floor wouldn’t make noise. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes – not and he would wake up asking to hold him and comfort him. Then we would nap together on the same sofa – we had often napped there for three hours, which was great and I will always miss it. I am not sure if one gets as much sleep with next babies because first one needs so much attention, doesn’t he?

I’ve also grown a lot during this year. I look back and some days seem like a dream. As if they've never happened, but I only saw a dream and it faded away leaving little purple touch on my soul, if you know what I mean (well, those who know my love to Marquez). There are so many things in life influencing us, hurting us and in the same time motivating us to move on, never stop, never mind stumbling, just go on and on.

I learnt how to be patient, not to lose my temper as easily as I used to; I achieved being nicer to people that annoy me, not to get angry with Ezra when he refuses to sleep or eat, which still is something I keep on working and making myself not to explode, but smile to him and show how calm I am so he eats one more spoonful porridge. Still a challenge.

Life is all about learning anyway. I need to learn new things everyday in order to move on and become better person than I was yesterday -- better wife, better mum, better daughter and just better Sophie. Not always easy, rather hard, but achievable, that's what I'm here for.

Getting and deserving

I wrote a big "heartful" post yesterday and on last minute decided not to publish - it was too personal. Not that I was giving out some intimate secrets or anything. No, it was deeper - coming from the darker side of my soul which has been eating me lately.

You know this dark side comes out, when you feel most weak and tired; exactly then millions of disturbing reasons come to your mind proving that you are miserable and failed in something that was always so important for you.
Profession.
..........................

The problem for my generation and probably for the whole world is the fear of being failure. Fear of not looking cool in others' eyes; fear not having things that others have; fear to be less successful than your university friends (my case); fear to be less beautiful and so on.
That's what makes us depressed - feeling that we don't get what we deserve. Don't we all believe we deserve the best because we are the best personalities of the world?
.............................

Every now and then I get mad. And then I am so ashamed of it. You get angry when you have no control over something and things are not going your way, we all know, and it seems to me that things are not exactly going as I wish they were lately.
People irritate me, environment irritates me, even the smartest and loveliest baby Ezra irritates me and I start to cry. Deep in my heart I know I am happy and lucky for having all I have now and I should be acting more mature, but I can't help it. I pick on everyone and everything and only thing that saves me is going out for a walk and breathing the fresh air. Temporarily.

There are times when I doubt everything in the world and believe that it's all about money, power and fame :| I know it's my post soviet ghost haunting me over and over again, making me feel like a trapped animal and reading "Perfect Day for Bananafish" for thousandth time. Only Salinger can save me, I say.
....................................

This too shall pass, but may come back again.

(This post was re-created/rewritten under the influence of Metallica's "For whom the bell tolls" live in South Korea)

Made of

Sometimes I feel like this angry teenager who is ready to crash it all, to rebel against everything, to screw all the rules and run away... then this very old and matured lady comes within me and calms me down because anger won't lead me anywhere. Who should I be angry at anyway? At life? At my parents? At me? Or at G-d? It is all so relative.
I mean they are all related to each other - life, parents, me and G-d. That is all I am made of, ain't I? And I am not talking about specific anger or anything, no it is just things that I wish I could do but I cannot. I feel like a stranger in my own body walking and talking. Perhaps it is the mission I have come to this world for - to be against the system, looking for truth and thinking my brains out.

I am afraid of life. I think I don't understand it at all.