Regenerate

It's times like these I'm suddenly struck with the urge to make an Insta-book out of my 2013 instragram pictures.

Half the house is in boxes and the other half is disheveled. Tomorrow we pack to go to the mountains for the changing of the years. We'll get the keys to our new (rental) house on Friday!

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It has occurred to me that this past year has been very probably the best, most comfortable year for me in my role as "stay at home" mom. Is it a coincidence that it also is the year both kids have been at school and/or preschool most days of the week? I think not.

Caring for (very) small children does not appear to be in my naturally-acquired skill set. Both times I've done it rather poorly and have fallen apart rather spectacularly. While it's true that there were many other rather large stressors at those times in my life, I highly doubt that even if I were to have the most ideal circumstances surrounding another pregnancy and birth that it would be possible without medication.

Which makes me sad. However, I don't want to put myself or my family through anything like my postpartum experiences again.

I'm not on medication now and I (usually) feel just fine! This makes me hopeful and wistful and I've briefly entertained the thought of another child.

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A few months ago I was shopping at our local grocery store. A lady joined me by the spinach. Her tiny infant son was in a car-seat she had placed in the shopping cart and he began to fuss. She began gently rocking the seat but he didn't settle down. Instead he began screaming that ever-so-distinctive newborn cry.

My reaction surprised even me. I wasn't expecting to feel anything as strongly as I did. I almost had to leave the store. An avalanche of feelings suddenly dumped into my awareness, triggered by that crying. My heart was racing; I felt panicky and fearful, desperate and frantic, helpless and terrified.

Sanity was a difficult thing to maintain during those first few months of a screaming Elaine and a wide-eyed, sensitive Val. Our home had been and was still endlessly under construction and chaotic and I wasn't sure whether we'd be able to short sell it or have to go into foreclosure. Superman was on the break-in phase at his new job and largely unavailable in every way. I could barely function and then I couldn't function.

It was very hard.

All of it came rushing back as I stood there by the produce, listening to this newborn do what lots of newborns do - cry.

I quickly got the remaining items on my list and then hurried to the car. I closed the door and began to cry, too.

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At dinner tonight Val said she wishes she could have a little brother. I told her I wish that too. I know God hears us. I want to hear Him. Little brothers can come in more ways than one.

Scenarios

Last night I saw the moon rise and it was stunning. Giant, golden, gorgeous and low on the horizon against a dark blue sky. In that first moment I want to call up everyone I know who might care, "You guys! The MOON! Go look RIGHT NOW!" But I don't because who does that (well, me, but only if it's really REALLY picturesque.) After I mentally run through the list of anyone who may be in a position to stop what they're doing and gaze at the moon, I wish for a camera and a hill and no city lights and while I'm at it some really great trees to silhouette¹ against it, etc., etc.. Instead, I kept driving, craning my neck for another glance whenever I could.

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This morning I saw the moon set. It startled me even more awake than I already wasn't - giant, pearly and glowing against a soft blue sky. I took a horrible picture with my horrible phone² from my horrible kitchen window. Then I called for everyone in the house to come see. (The moon, not my picture.) But here, you can see the picture, since you probably missed it this morning. It's three trillion times better in person, I assure you.

My bad, this is not from the kitchen window. This is taken from the window above the piano keyboard.

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I'm reading Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words and as a result am becoming even more acutely aware that I majored in biology and not journalism. Boy do editors have a lot to remember. I enjoy writing and words as a means to an end, which is the expression of ideas. I'm not so terribly concerned about grammar and spelling as long as the person I'm communicating with (a lot of the time the person is only me) can readily understand the idea/meaning/concept. I've gotten much sloppier in my old age and as the amount of reading I'm doing has decreased. Also, my ideas are less clear and more muddy in my brain. This may be due to children stealing my brain cells or lack of practice or both.

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Sometimes I feel like the avocado seeds I'm trying to grow. For almost four weeks they've sat in cups of water on my window sill, each one suspended by three toothpicks. I top off the water and wait expectantly. "Any day now!" I think optimistically as I inspect the almost-completely-unchanged seed. It looks a little grungier - sort of bruised and cracked in spots. Certainly not capable of pushing life out of it.

But I have hope because I have seen it happen before.

Sometimes I feel like I go through periods of enormous internal growth but nothing becomes visible externally for quite a while. I know I've changed. I FEEL changed. But I don't LOOK changed to other people. I wish I could force it. I wish I could burst forth into a glorious fruit-producing tree overnight and people would oooh and aaah and come sit in my shade and want to know my secret³. I wish that just seeing where I want to be was enough to get me there. I wish that the process wouldn't take so long or require so much, sometimes. I wish to jump ahead and enjoy the fruits without very much labor.

I wish I had a more mature perspective.

Proverbs has a verse about this: "There is profit in all hard work, but endless talk leads only to poverty."

Right. Thanks, Proverbs. I think I'd rather listen to Leviticus on this one: "You must not do any work at all! This is a permanent law for you, and it must be observed from generation to generation wherever you live." (Isn't that the most lovely Bible verse you've ever seen? [Talk about picking and choosing parts of the Bible to fit personal tastes!])

Then there's the verse I love to hate in Galatians: "So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up."

I have actually quoted this verse to a Christian counselor along with the somewhat martyr-like, self-centered exclamation, "I am SO tired of doing good. I'm just DONE! How much longer do I have to do good? Can I stop yet? I mean seriously. Where's my harvest of blessing?!" I can't remember the reply I got that day but today I remind myself that inner change is change and it is a blessing. Harvests don't have to be external to count. I have a MUCH better relationship with myself today than I did five months ago. Eventually, at just the right time, others will experience a much better relationship with me, too. I really hope it's sooner than later but for now I'm content to work on what I know I need to do and trust that the process will lead to healing and whole relationships outside of me as well. 

I have hope because I have seen it happen before. 

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¹I just spelled that correctly the first time for what I believe may be the first time in my entire life.
²But don't you fear! I'll be getting an iPhone 5 tomorrow!
³The secret is... there isn't one!

Untitled

I have GOT to get back into a regular routine. One that involves going to bed at 10 so that I can be coherent enough to parent at 6 or 7 am when my beloved children arise.

But... going to bed is so boring, especially when you've gone to bed past midnight for the last several nights. I'm not even sleepy right now! Why go to bed if I'm not tired?

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I am liking apartment life so far. Elaine locked the bathroom door and then closed it (no one was in the bathroom) and as we live on the 3rd story, there's no popping the screen off the window and going in that way. I hunted briefly for a key, then Superman called the maitenence crew for help. A man arrived, and 30 seconds later had the door open, using the key that was right on top of the door trim. How embarrassing. I could have SWORN I checked there. Ah well, nice to have my hair color for an excuse.

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One thing I have not liked so much about apartment life is the lack of dogs. As in, we don't have one any more. Especially with Superman working nights, it was really nice to have a couple of friendly, tail-thumping, living, breathing animals for company. I realize that Tesla is living and breathing but nothing will ever be the same as the comfortable atmosphere a dog sprawled out on the floor brings.

I miss my dogs. A lot.

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Since we moved in we've had VERY few days of sun. It's been quite rainy and cold and we're all going a little bit crazy as a result of being inside for so long. This week is forecasted to be sunny and I ciouldn't be happier. I need me some sun.