the concrete world of a kid

Driving…

…and eating.

it’s christmas eve

We’re spending Christmas in Dallas this year, staying with the Great Grandparents, and trying to keep the crazy to a minimum.

Of course, since it’s Christmas Eve, that means the crazy still has to happen.

quite a whirlwind autumn

It became very windy outside today. Georgia, my neighbor, remarked on how fast the clouds had been moving all day. The clouds at all levels were speeding by, as if to whisk us into winter more quickly than we’d like.
And that’s what they’ve been doing.

After an exceptionally balmy day, I can feel the chill creeping in from my still-cracked-open windows. I don’t want to shut them–I love the fresh air–but soon it will come time for us to shut up the house in the evenings completely, and hide under our down blanket for warmth.

And although you can get cabin fever, there’s plenty of warmth to be had indoors–warmth of all kinds.

first day of preschool!

Ruth had her first day of preschool yesterday. The dropoff went rather smoothly. Contrary to stories I had heard about other mothers, I didn’t get emotional when I dropped her off. Rather, I found myself waxing sentimental when I saw Steve pull up to our parking space, and pull a sleepy toddler out of the car. She’s my big girl now, I thought.

It’s a large change in the life of a parent when your child starts having experiences without you around. Of course, that’s what growing up entails–more independence. To me, it’s frightening and exhilarating to think of all the things that my children will do, say, explore, and more, without me. They’re vulnerable, but you have to let go in order to let them learn, and to let your heart stretch a little bit too.

In a way, it’s a good thing that human dependence lasts for comparatively long; I don’t think parents are built for a mere six week infant-to-adolescent transition, like a kitten. However much we long for our kids to think for themselves, we’re just as enthralled with their neediness as they are with us.

None of these thoughts are new, of course. There’s nothing new under the sun. But she’s my first, and so with her, so much of life is new, like the first sounds of birds in the morning. The changes she goes through are like whiffs of seasons in the air. Tonight I dressed her brother in a red sleeper she wore a year ago. Has it been that long?

Home again, home again

We’re home. We’re unpacked. It took almost a whole week, but we did it.

What I’m most excited about is this: in the process of packing and unpacking, I managed to get rid of an astounding amount of stuff. Old posters, items we hadn’t used in years, and useless junk that we somehow held on to thinking it was really meaningful made its way to the trash. Interesting books, my framed artwork, kids’ clothes, and other useful do-dads went to friends, family, or the thrift store.

I feel so much lighter now, and that when we move out of seminary, our moving van will be able to accommodate everything with room to spare. Having just what we need (and maybe a little more) is exactly the way I like to feel.

This is new to me; I used to think I was a collector. I collected books, sea shells, random interesting junk that struck my fancy. After reading Your Money or Your Life, my habits towards my belongings came under fire–what was I doing with all these random collections taking up space? I didn’t cherish them; they irked me. I felt obligated to keep them for–well, I couldn’t figure out the reason, really.

And so I got rid of a bunch of them. And now I feel better. I’m going to keep up the de-cluttering habit on a weekly basis from now on; it will keep me excited and mentally liberated to take great care for the items I genuinely value and enjoy.

Moments from today

I promised Ruth that we’d go to the playground. We took a potty break, got suited up, and ready to go, only to discover that part of the stroller buckle was mysteriously missing. When running back to the house, and Ruth fell and skinned her knees. It was QUITE a piece of drama. She didn’t want to be cleaned up; she seemed more upset about not going to the playground than about getting a scrape.

After cleaning her up, trying to find the buckle, and failing, I simply put her in the stroller, instructed her not to get out, and off we went to the playground. We weren’t halfway there when I looked down and saw her slumping forward. It was 6:30, and she had fallen completely asleep. Afraid that she would fall out of the stroller, I took her, wheelbarrow-style, the whole way back.

And she’s been asleep ever since. It’s 9pm.

…

Mamou volunteered to take over nighttime duty with Lucas last night–a huge undertaking. We’ve been puzzled for some time as to why he wakes so often at night: is he truly hungry? does he just want momma? is it pain?

Well, the report this morning gave us quite a bit of information. He drank NINE ounces last night. NINE. The kid is hungry. That’s almost as much as what a newborn would drink during the night. Not to mention a light sleeper (but we knew that already).

So, then plan: bottle-feeding at night, slowly diluting the formula down until it’s only water. It’s been over a year since I’ve had a full night’s rest, and hopefully this will help speed the process of night weaning up a bit.

…

Waking up this morning after a full night’s rest was almost like waking up on Christmas Day. Or, waking up on the first day of summer vacation. Or, the feeling you get after you’ve had a nice, long afternoon nap, but wake at just the right time.

…

My dedicated helper, Margaret, left today. I miss that extra pair of hands while my husband is away.

Coming to the end of the summer

It’s been pretty silent on the blog, which nearly always indicates a flurry of activity. Our summer has been full–so full, in fact, that we haven’t gotten to do nearly close to everything we had hoped.

I feel a growing sense of urgency about my interactions with friends and family here; we don’t have much longer together. While our lives have been so mundanely intertwined, it’s a fragile and temporary blessing that I’m soon to miss all too terribly.

Overall, the wedding season has been well-paced, but at times overwhelming. I’ve learned quite a few new tricks, gained a few insights into next steps I should take about my equipment, skills, and business. I feel happy to be shooting more weddings, but also more contented with my role in the world as a “mere” part-timer.

Right now, the little ones and the family are the most important thing, and the business–while fulfilling and exciting–simply has to be secondary. It’s way too easy to look around and get caught up in false and distracting competition.

Well, now that the children are fast asleep, I’d better catch some rest myself; I’ve got a wedding to finish editing tomorrow!

Home, home, home

I’m back from Texas, and have been for awhile now. I had the strange feeling upon returning home, that I wasn’t truly “home,” but merely on another leg of my travels. It’s taken a week or so of normal life–laundry, dishes, diapers–to shake that feeling, and find contentment in being settled until we visit Baltimore for Christmas.

We’re settled, but not completely. I have mounting anxieties about our finances, about employment, about the loose strings that moving has created. I won’t go into the complicated details, but applying for food stamps and state health benefits has turned into a game of setting up dominoes in just the right positions so that one falls right after another. It feels as though there are 27 steps for each document I need to prove that we are who we say we are, live where we say we live, and need what we say we need.

Experiencing a New England autumn again has made up for this, however. Crisp air and that familiar temperate forest smell evoke powerful childhood memories for me. I’m remembering what it means to layer clothing, and discovering that my wardrobe is sorely lacking in chilly New England essentials. I curse Baltimore for making me a weather wuss.

The kids are very healthy (at the moment), and lucky for us, the dreaded H1N1 vaccine shortage won’t hit home; Ruth has had her first dose, while Steve and I will get ours this week. It’s nice to have a toddler whose nose I don’t need to wipe every ten minutes, and a baby breathing easy and phlegm-free.

Thanksgiving is nigh upon us; Steve’s parents will be up for a visit to get their hit of Ruthie’s energy and Lucas’ baby smiles. Both my brothers will return to Natick, and we will gather around the table like old times, and perhaps even say the family grace with gusto:

God is great, God is good
and we thank him for our food.
By his hands we are fed
we thank him for our daily bread.
Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub!
Yay, God!

(Mom always tried to make us drop that last bit.)

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(See my October family photos, too!)

Settled In

The last few weeks, in spite of Ruth’s amazing strides in destructivity, I feel at home in parenthood. Yes, it can be restrictive on one’s social life and sleeping habits. Yes, sometimes I long for adult conversation. Yes, sometimes I wallow in frustration and misery at my own unfulfilled desires and needs (sometimes as basic as a trip to the bathroom).

A Tough One

The past few days have been a bit of a strain. Ruthie only wakes up once (around 2 AM) for her nightly feeding, and so logically (or so I tell myself), I should be on the gravy train. Yet in the back of my mind mumbles the suspicion that she’s drinking more at each feeding, and therefore taking a lot more of my energy. The reason? I’m inexplicably hungry ALL THE TIME (I’ve already had three full meals today, as of 4 PM), and RIDICULOUSLY TIRED (though I’m getting fairly decent stretches of sleep at night).