August 3/4: One of those days

Most days I love what I do and exist in a near constant state of graditute and savoring even the tedious little moments.

Then I have one of THOSE days.

THOSE days are always when I feel tired or sick. So, I guess I should pause right here and send out blessings for my consistently good health.

Thanks, health.

August 2/4: Where to find peace

A major task in this life is trying to attain peace in the midst of movement, change and challenges. I was stuck in the car for more time than usual in stand-still traffic feeling those stress levels rise. I didn't want to be there. My right leg was hurting. It was uncomfortable sitting there with my pregnant belly. But-- my kids are pretty amazing on long car rides. But--we finally made it to our destination. But--it was worth it in the end.

August 1/4: Bullets

  • Cool Days are deceptive. It feels like September is around the corner yet August has only just begun. I grew up with school starting in September and, almost immediantly, crisp, chill fall weather. In Maryland the schools start in August. The kids wear shorts, t-shirts and sandals to their first days. There are new clothes folded in drawers, new bookbags packed with new school supplies and new sneakers coming in the mail. There is a postcard from the first grade teachers on the refrigerator door.

July 4/4: Joy in droplets

As Jason's perpetual battle with depression crops up again, I find myselff very thankful for my ability to be happy. That seems like a shit thing to say. Glad I'm not the one who has to try different meds and struggle through the day. Glad it isn't me. I've written about the struggles of being married to a person who has chronic depression. However much it sometimes suck for me, it always sucks more for him. So all the obvious bits aside, I'm glad I can be the one who can act as the backbone of the family. Maybe he doesn't need me to.

July ¾: I refuse to call this nesting

I have serious hate for the term “nesting”. Nesting is a bird comparison. A creature industriously building a nest to house eggs and baby birds. What I am feeling is not an urge to make my home nice for a newborn who doesn’t care if it spends its nights in a cardboard box. My itch is to get this place in order before my life changes. I don’t think nesting really explains this drive.

July 2/4: Why I make my kids work

This summer I set up a chore chart for the children. I knew we would have a lot of free time on our hands, but this isn’t only a time filler. I spend many hours every week picking up after the family and cleaning. I can’t say I am neurotically organized. I live in a condo with three other people and four cats. Everything looks cluttered, but I do work to keep the home clean.

July ¼: So the summer goes

There isn’t much I am doing to prepare for this baby. When I switched out my winter for summer clothes, I only kept out what will fit me pregnant. Then when I found out we’re expecting a boy, I went through the closet-full (no exaggeration) of baby/kid clothing and bagged up all the girl clothes to give away. I kept things with Sage’s name on it, items that once belonged to me or my mother, and a couple favorites for possible future granddaughters. I’ve already parted with everything size 2 and up to one friend. I am hoping I can find someone expecting a girl this or next year.

June 4/4: He has long fingers

River has my brother’s hands.

I discover it like something unearthed. His hands always here, doing. Building legos, shaping playdough, creating drawings  till he wears a coat of pencil lead along the sides like I once did in my teenage room spending hours lost in the transformation of white paper to something else.

They are my brother’s hands.

I never noticed until one day, I held them and the words burst out: a firecracker.

“You have hands just like Bryan”

And then they were.

June 3/4: Choatic camping and the sound of birds

It's been two years since we attempted camping on Assateague Island. Jason made a vow never to return after a single night in which he became a giant snack bar to the island's many bugs. I have no problem taking the kids places without him, expecially when Adventure Mom tells me she reserved a spot and I need to get this other spot near her's asap. I don't think either of us were pregnant when we made these plans. Nor did she know exactly when she would be moving (which turned out to be the day before our mini-vacation).

June 2/4: Thinking ahead

River's art shirt comes home in his book bag. It smells of tempura paints. The bag itself is stitched and worn. I can see light through the bottom. The eyes of the robot no longer flicker. The bus tag that marks him as a kindergarten student is barely legible. I remember his baby feet, curled and pink. I remember his littest finger measured against just the first segment of my own. I feel like I am on a see-saw, balenced between my oldest and the growing youngest, but firmly in the middle with my girl who is my most constant companion. My motherhood is stretching.

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