mornings

I sit and drink my coffee listening to my husband's sweet voice singing "good morning" to our precious little one. The house is cluttered with our things, the most obvious in first observation is the bouncy chair, the jumpy chair, the high chair and stuffed toys. Upon closer observation the more subtle and adult clutter comes into view, a box filled with paints and brushes, fired clay heads from a recent self imposed exercise, baseball caps, socks and shoes, yarn, a pile of paperwork here, some mail and bills over there. Sometimes our little house can feel too cozy.

I wake this morning to gray skies and green grass. I have phone calls to make, bills to pay, reports for work, the house clearly could use some tidying up - the trappings of adult responsibility, but all I can think of is baking cupcakes and shopping for new sheets.

Our mornings are slow and unambitious. Our late and long sleep habits leave us drowsy and floating through the afternoon. It's a sort of heaven, if heaven was cluttered and unswept. I have learned to stop listening to the critical voice inside my head, the one that tells me I should be getting more done. Instead, I work to appreciate what is. I daydream about perfect days and then look at what needs to be done to bring those things into reality. This of course all applies to domestic life. Creatively, I'm much less Zen.

I know that my hubby will struggle to change his schedule with his new job. We will all miss the aimless mornings we're accustomed to. It's funny how much easier it is to appreciate things when it's clear they are only temporary. The reality is, it's all temporary and every day is a gift.

the thick of living and the objects we love

Celebration! Hubby got the job! He found out on April Fool's day. So far as we know it wasn't an April Fool's joke. I am looking forward to adapting to a new schedule in our family - one in which we go to bed before midnight and are up before 10. Yeah, we've been sleeping like a bunch of college freshman in this house and that's gonna end soon.

I am hoping (and have been for a very long time) that we will be looking to get a new couch. It occurs to me suddenly though, all of the history we have with the old one. It's just a hand me down futon from the Mister's parents. They had it for years and I would prefer to not think about what they have done on that couch. But I love to reminisce about me and my man; first awkward kisses, cuddling on snowy days, naps in the sun. My baby boy was almost born on that couch - we had him in our hallway instead - but we rested for the very first time and cuddled and nuzzled as a family on that couch right afterwards. (In the couch's defense, my placenta was born on the couch. Someday, I'll have to share our amazing birth story.)

our couch with all our animals on board

I dream of a nice new couch - one that doesn't have a slip cover to hide the holes and stains, a couch whose pillows are new and fluffy instead of lumping and thinning. One that we get to pick instead of one we take because we need it. But I must admit that as we get closer to this goal, I am sad to think about not having our old trusting friend whose stains and imperfection hold our stories and history. sigh. I felt the same way when I gave up my purple chair. It was the first piece of "real" furniture I bought on my own. It was over the top huge and purple and I loved it.

I am fascinated and fond of the objects in our lives. The ones that we generally ignore but always prefer. I especially like to know about people's favorite coffee cup. You know the one you pick every morning. And that one morning it's not available for whatever reason, you suddenly have this hunch that it's not going to be a very good day.

On a different subject, my little boy who is 5 months old is wearing 12 month clothes. I have a ginormous baby. He is big and beautiful. I get sad about giving up my favorite outfits that he can no longer wear too. It's a sort of wonderful little melancholy, to know that things must change and that everything is changing for the better but to still be a little sad and miss the way things were. It's really a wonderful place to be. In the thick of living and appreciating the journey.

a late valentine post

Who knew marriage was so much work? When I was a little girl dreaming of the perfect, romantic relationship (rose petals and all that) I dreamed of an easy push and pull between me and my perfect guy. I'd like to declare that I did indeed end up with the perfect guy, I'm finding out however, that even the perfect guy still takes a lot of work. It's difficult to be in a relationship and not be able to find the right words. I find myself feeling sensitive and taking everything personal. Then I respond from a place of defense, aiming right where I know it's not too defensive but still not on the road of "working it out". Last night was one of those nights.

I must say that me and my guy have gotten so much better about figuring things out since the beginning of our relationship. We talk more and share more, it seems like it doesn't take us as long to come to a place of understanding. It is far off from what that little girl imagined. She imagined blow out fights, yelling and walking away - only so that the making up was that much more sappy and romantic. I had some pretty interesting ideas about what a relationship was as a kid. As a kiddo, I always imagined being "right" and Mr. Right just needing some time to figure that out before he came crawling back with flowers and candlelight. And while I love romance, that stuff I daydreamed about doesn't really do much to build intimacy. Of course coming from a place of being right and making the other person wrong is bound to end up in misery. Problems are usually way more complicated than that. And who likes to be wrong and have that pointed out in an unloving, stubborn sort of way by the person they're spending the rest of their life with? It's no wonder that when I enter into conflict with dear hubby coming from that place it doesn't go very well. As I found time after time, last night no exception, it works much better when I can put my ego aside and remember that I love this man dearly (no matter how much of an egghead he's being).

So that's my long saga. Today, I am grateful for my relationship with my man. It seems to reflect all the scary, difficult stuff. It also gives me a safe place to land and a place to nurture the best in me - sometimes it's a struggle, but who better to struggle through it with me, than my best friend? (I'm tearing up a little now, and realizing that that is the stuff of romance!)

getting the hang of it

With Springtime weather I am starting to feel better. My last post was a bit of a bummer - that's where I've been lately, going back and forth between feeling inspired to feeling like everything is barely held together. Well really, I'm not sure much has changed except that I may be starting to accept that that is where I am, and if everything is just barely hanging together, so be it! I'm gonna enjoy it while I can instead of whining about what needs to change. It seems to be working. I am feeling better. I wouldn't say I'm getting the hang of things, just that I'm again, coming to a place of acceptance with it all. Whew.

The first time I ever swam in the ocean, I was snorkeling. I have always had a bit of fear about water. I was with my grandfather and we were swimming out of a beautiful little cove in Hawaii. I was young and in shape then but I remember struggling to keep up with my grandpa. He seemed to be swimming with such grace and he was moving so quickly with little effort. In an effort to keep up with him I swan twice as hard, kicking and stroking. I was out of breath and making little progress. Worse than the little progress, I was afraid. The tide seemed to be carrying me further away from him. As the distance between us grew I paddled even harder to no avail and was almost in a panic that I would never catch him. Maybe I would be carried off to sea! He must have noticed the distance between us and the splashing of my efforts. He stopped swimming and glided towards me. With a big smile on his face he said, "your working too hard, just let the water take you, relax". He said it so matter of fact and glided off again. I exhaled and surrendered to the waves. I found that indeed once I stop trying so hard I could let the ocean do the work for me. I had no problem keeping up with him and I enjoyed myself so much more. I could use my energy to enjoy my surroundings.

So, a long story to illustrate my point. I'm relaxing. I surrender. I'm gonna focus my energy on enjoying the ride.

Also, I'm changing my background color. Something a little less...um, gray. Hope you enjoy. I'm still thinking about overhauling the whole look. That's a big project though, especially when you're as computer savvy as I am.

in a rut

I've been feeling dormant lately. Spring is slowly arriving here and with it I feel the pull towards more activity. The mister is still waiting to hear if he's got a new job. The waiting makes us crazy, neither of us are very good at it. We get cranky at each other as we try to remain hopeful. I daydream of a different schedule for our family, one that includes meals together while the sun is up and time for leisurely walks together in the evening.

I've been judging myself lately for being out of balance. Not eating healthy or exercising regularly. I think about struggling with a routine but realize that with or without a routine, it's balance I'm after. It seems to elude me still - although I feel I'm getting closer. I wonder what a perfect day in my life would look like. I continue to work willy-nilly on creative endeavors. I seem to lack momentum or commitment in these areas. I think I want more accountability and set it up for myself then blow it off.

I'm not sure how to finish this post. I've re-read it a few times now. I sound whiny. Feeling stuck in a rut of thoughts and daily doings. I'm going off to wander in the world and see if I can't gain new perspective.

bad blogger

I've been a bad blogger as of late. Only one week left of this month, March seems to have come and gone. It was a month of visitors: the in-laws and then hubby's cousin. Whew! All of that in a cozy little home (that is slowly being taken over by baby accessories). Happy Easter and Spring everyone! More tomorrow, promise!

sleeplessness and inner beauty

A little after 10 pm and the little boy is not asleep yet. This is pretty typical for us. He's always asleep by 11:30. I have dreams of the little boy going to sleep earlier and me having time at night to blog with two hands. Not yet though. I'm still wondering how my husband and I created a person who is so active in the mornings and doesn't like to sleep very much. I thought it was genetically impossible but apparently not.

While driving about town during one of the little one's glorious naps, I drove by a house for sale with a sign that proclaimed "I'm beautiful on the inside". What a wonderful statement. I think a t-shirt with that statement would be fabulous! I am beautiful on the inside! and outside too!
Time to try and coax the little one into slumber land.