Upon Waking WIth a Baby

This post at FOILHAT made me think today. Here are my thoughts:

This week or last Blueberry was officially the same age Lil'Bug was when my maternity leave was over and I went back to work. Full time+ some+ graduate school+ volunteer work+ + +

Lil'Bug would cry and be awake all day and then sleep from when I picked her up until the next morning with a 2 hour I'm up and play session from 2am-4am. Unless I was in class at night and then she'd cry until I got home. She was a high maintaince baby, to put it gently. Or was she?

Waking up in the morning was a forced and hurried ritual of diaper change, bottle and milk gathering, dressing, loading, dressing myself and out the door. Getting home was more of the same plus laundry, studying, cleaning, and thesis work.

This past morning I realized forcefully what I had missed.

Waking gently in the morning with a babe touching my face and smiling. Giggles.
or
Waking with a ray of sunrise peeking through the curtains and watching the sweetness of my two sleeping children snuggled together.
or
a million other variations of the same.

A gentle start to the day. Pure happiness.

I got to be the one to take Blueberry to the zoo for her first visit. Watch her roll over for the first time. Get to know her during her awake times. I lost that time with Lil'Bug. I have always mourned that loss but recently I have nurtured an understanding of that loss, a wound, how deep it is.

That is a cost that can not be offset by money. By working. I am raising my children. That is my choice. I am working too, but blessed enough to do so at times they are sleeping or playing and I can set down my work when they need me.

Perhaps working moms who have always worked will never know this loss, perhaps they do. Amy said in her post that she is feeling a lot of resentment from them. Perhaps it is not what it appears to be and it is the anger phase of grief?

I don't know, can't say for certain, but I never get snotty to working moms. I assume they've weighed the options and made the best choice for themselves and/or their family. I think though, that raising children and caring for your home are very de-valued by many. I know a couple moms who homeschool just to justify continuing to stay home, to fill a void in their own worth. It is not nessecary. Raising kids is hard work. Period. Homeschooling? Piece of cake, Black Forest Chocolate layer cake with fancy frosting.......anyway, now I am hungry.

My point is this, lets not de-value others OR ourselves. Go over and give Amy a virtual hug. (Oh, and she makes soap too!)

Home is where your heart is......

Home. That concept for me if complicated. We moved a lot as a kid and my home life was, well, we'll just say....turbulent. When people ask me where I am from, I have no answer. The places I've lived? The people? I don't really associate with any of it. I've lived in Iowa almost half my life, so that is the closest I get.

My husband asked me of the farm house: Can you call this home?

Wow. That question has really set in my heart. Because really, I will follow him to the ends of the earth. Where he is, where my children are, that is home. That's not what he meant, but that is really the heart of it.

We've been back to the farm house. I took better pictures. I allowed myself to get excited. Now I am listening to Christmas music and cleaning house. I spent a good part of the morning on the phone with insurance, utillity companies, the chamber of commerce, the county development corporation, and both the realtor and my Dearest.

We took a break and visited an old friend and her brood. Little anxiety over that, but it went well, I think.

Tomorrow we are going back. We are closer to our dream than ever before. We are in that excited, anxiety, frantic, calm before the change phase. You know what I mean? It is hard to explain.

Me? I'm craving Cajun food and Christmas cookies.

My House That Is For Sale......

The amazing Sarah at SarahSignature came over yesterday with chocolate and took these pictures. These are my favorite ones, though they are all amazing.

It occurred to me that we may not live here long and many of you ask what my big Victorian mess, I mean, house looks like. Well, here it is! I'll post more next week.

Also, a big thank you to my MIL and GMIL who came over and cleaned and arranged furniture.

Dreaming Big

I've always been one to dream big. When I was younger I was often mocked by friends and family for my lofty goals. It was not until I was an adult that my tenacity and goal orientation (obsessed focus) paid off. My impatience and my big dreaming.

But first let me tell you about my day......
7 AM load car with sleeeeeepy, cranky girls. It is raining.
7:10 AM Pull over to feed, discover milk duct yeast infection.
7:20 AM Pull over, change Blueberry's diaper, discover that what I thought was yeast infection was actually red paint from painting night before.
7:25 AM Finally leave DM city limits and head south to meet Realtor at farm previously mentioned (the big pond with house restored by Amish people....)
8:20 AM pull into town, easily find road, 30 miles short of Google maps? Ok. Turn in, read addresses, check maps, assured farm is 1/2 mile away down this road.
8:21 AM Road turns into Grade B access road. I can see the farm. Turn in.

8:22 AM Get stuck in mud. Call Realtor who says he's on his way and going to help us. Call Dearest. Get mocked by Dearest and his co-workers. I hand Lil'Bug a chunk of cheddar cheese:

8:40 AM Realtor arrives. Verifies stuckness. Heads over to the neighbors to borrow truck to tow us out. Yay. I get to meet my possibly new neighbors. Lil'Bug proceeds to spit out cheese go and paint her car window and seat. Car smells like cheddar and......poopy diaper? Gah. Get out, sink 6 inches into the mud while sloping around the car to get out Blueberry and change her diaper AND then feed her.
9:20 AM Get towed out. Still raining. Follow Realtor to farm. Get reassured that every southern Iowan gets stuck in the mud at least once.
9:30 Amish family is home. I somehow must have violated every single etiquette rule ever. I try and photograph house, not very successfully.

9:50-10:30 AM Head outside to photograph farm buildings and lake. It is still raining. End up with not very many, not very good pictures, find a beehive, and get soaked up to my waist, but at least no longer as muddy. Listen to Lil'Bug throw a couple fits.

Yes. That's honey.

10:30ish AM Get back on Hwy 14 and head home. Car starts to shake over 35 MPH. Alignment messed up durring tow? Gah. Drive home taking back roads going 35 MPH. In the rain, pulling over to feed, re-diaper, find pet cricket, cry in the rain.
12:55 PM Get home. Wet, muddy, cranky. Dump kid in bath. Answer phone. Try to download photos to dump to flickr (if you know my account, the pics are there now) but computer freezes and eats them, deletes from my camera. Gah.
2:PM Retrieve pictures from obscure folder on desktop. Sarah calls.
Rest of Afternoon:
Sarah arrives to take pictures. Hold squirmy baby while shoving toys and bins and tornado tots into places behind camera to photos can get taken. Done. Eat chocolate, drink tea. Answer Dearest's 35 million+ phone calls to me to ask questions about the farm and the pictures.


Get excited about the farm. Decide to go back tomorrow to take better pictures and such.

Dream Big. Start picking out house colors.