Welcome to Mama Oracle
Hi, Olá, Hello!
Thanks for stopping by! I’ve stirred up some cosmic soup in this little corner of the internet, just for you. It’s nice to see you. You smell great and you have a nice smile. You’re welcome.
Okay. So, welcome to Mama Oracle! This is me, Carla. It’s taken a while to get here, but here we are!
Here you'll find some real talk, poetic talk, profesh talk; all the talk. Of course I'll talk about motherhood, magic and creativity, and how these all inform the worlds of work and play.
My vibe can best be described as ‘70s mom at a BBQ, one cocktail in.’ Cuz deep down I guess I’m pretty crunchy (deeply suspect of antibiotics) but like, not whole grain granola or anything. My granola comes in the form of a generic brand, that’s mostly sugar and tastes a bit stale even when you open a fresh package.
If I had more of a social life and we were to meet at a party, you’d probably find me in the kitchen steering small-talk with strangers towards more desirable subjects such as the mysteries of deep space or Renaissance gardening.
If you asked me what I like to do for fun, I would include ‘hats’ as a hobby because I own many hats and wear them all with panache. Like, I literally wear a lot of hats AND I’ve done a lot of things in my life. Behold my use of metaphor!
The highlight reel of the past few years would look like this: In 2013, I moved to the UK where I worked as a secondary school English and Drama teacher (not gonna lie, my favourite part of that job was dressing the part, and I took a perverse pleasure in wearing all the accent scarves and vintage floral dresses of my wildest dreams). While there, I met my sweetheart. After a whirlwind romance and engagement, we decided to move back to Toronto during Christmas of 2015 and subsequently proceeded to dive headfirst into an unplanned pregnancy. In October of 2016, I gave birth to a little boy named Finley.
I’m a mom who often gets told, “You don’t look like a mom.” When I hear this I feel equal parts flattered and flattened. It feels nice (deeply vain), but also, it feels like shade. A passing casual judgement, oh-so-very-loaded: I see you, you are not as invisible as you feel. I like that. Who doesn’t want to be seen? So what? But then, there’s THE MOM in question, the one vacuuming in the collective imagination. Do I defy her? I mean, do I dare?
So much of mothering is for display, for the benefit of others. But in reality it’s lonely, euphoric, depressing, full of meaning, life-sucking, epiphanic, and very, very boring. It’s not what you thought it would be, even if it’s something you really wanted. Yet it’s also so much bigger and more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.
Everything moves painfully slow and fast. Any movement or outing into the regular world needs to be well-coordinated, involves several moving cogs, changes of clothes, ziplock bags, and the help of a small, well-trained army.
I often tell friends that motherhood feels like being nowhere and everywhere at the same time. In the months following Fin’s birth I felt pretty isolated and didn’t have many creative outlets.
There were things I wanted to say -- needed to say, or else they would turn inward and explode inside of me. With motherhood also came an urgency to share what I'd been through. It no longer satisfied me to put my urge to write and tell stories on hold. I don't want what I'd been through to be forgotten or discarded.
And so, after years and years of friends, family, co-workers, strangers, and random salespeople behind perfume counters all saying, with great enthusiasm, ‘You should write a blog!’ I've finally done it.
I'm here to tell you what you already know but may need help remembering again: no one knows what they're doing, and that doesn't change when you have children. There are so many stories to tell you. I can't wait.