So we’ve been living in our new place for a couple weeks now, and it’s just beginning to feel like home. Or, maybe I’m just beginning to not feel so lost and alone in it anymore. Don’t get me wrong, this is our dream home (until we have more kids and grow out of it), but isn’t there something about a new house that is strange and foreign? I found myself walking into the kitchen at night and feeling the need to say, “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to intrude…” Do you know what I’m saying? New homes take getting used to. There are new noises at night, new neighbors to get to know, new rhythms of life.
Anyway, we’ve moved most of our stuff over to the new house and settled in, and we’re living out of boxes a lot less, which is nice. It felt like glorified camping for a while. The first day alone with Collin in the new house felt shockingly similar to my first day alone with him EVER after Husband went back to work and my mom went back to Minnesota. I had the “Will it always be this terrifying?!” feeling again, and walked the baby to Whole Foods to meet my friend, V. V is the Winnie the pooh to my Piglet. While I, Piglet, am running in circles crying, “Oh dear! Oh dear!” over the baby gate not fitting in the doorway or the fact that I went to the new house to clean it and forgot all my cleaning supplies, V the Pooh will waltz in and find the most simple (sometimes obvious), yet brilliant solution. To anything. And she’ll make it look easy, and you will be immeasurably relieved and wonder how on earth you have such a great friend. Seriously, everyone needs a V in their lives. So that first day alone in the new house wasn’t so scary after seeing V’s refreshing smile.
In other news, we will most likely be leaving tomorrow to go back to Socal to say goodbye to my mom's partner, who is losing her battle with cancer. Cancer is such a dirty word. I hate it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Ready, set, major life change!
Oh, the times, they are a-changing. It's time to open a new chapter in our lives (again) as we prepare to say goodbye to the studio apartment and hello to the one-bedroom awesomeness that is our new place. The big move is this weekend, tonight, actually, once Husband gets home with some boxes. Our new home is half the first floor of a Victorian style mansion that is over 100 years old. Places like that are actually pretty common here in Santa Cruz, but I never thought I would be fortunate enough to live in one. It is so gorgeously vintage and fabulous. Love at first sight.
Today, I took Collin for our last walk around the lagoon that surrounds our current apartment complex. The feelings that washed over me were so unexpectedly profound. Suddenly, I was having flashbacks of walking through the lagoon as a blushing newlywed, holding Husband's hand as we daydreamed about taking our future children here. Fast forward a little, and now I'm remembering all the desperate loops around the water I made with Collin, both of us miserably sick, praying the rhythmic rocking of my steps in his Ergo carrier would lull him to sleep. Just a few minutes of precious sleep.
The last time Collin and I walked through the lagoon, I saw a little lone duckling paddling around by itself, and my eyes swelled with tears. Where was its mother? Why was such a little duckling all alone? Being a mother gives you a different spin on just about everything. I looked down at Collin's (finally) sleeping face, his body curled against mine, all bundled in his jacket and boots, and I thought, "Will he ever stop being my childling?'
And I realized that no, he won't. Even when he's paddling around the great big pond all by himself with his own car and a job and a family, he will always be my childling. I will always welcome him back home to the nest with open wings.
I stopped by Whole Foods on my way to work yesterday to pick up diapers. As I was leaving, I noticed a young woman browsing the cracker isle, absentmindedly caressing her beautiful pregnant orb of a belly, and I stopped in my tracks. I wanted to run to her, kiss her precious belly, try to think of the words to tell her how amazingly blessed her life will be. How full-to-the-brim her heart will be. How she has no idea just how incredible it will feel to hold a tiny newborn against her heart and feel its little life beating with hers. However, in the same moment, I also wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream, "Run, girl! Get out while you still can!" And try to think of the words to tell her how miserably sleep-deprived and slightly insane she will feel on a 24 hour basis. How depressing it will be to climb her exhausted self into bed at night, only to know that in an hour (or less), she will be jarred awake again by her baby's constant need. How she will completely loose any sense of self she had, to be replaced with her new "self," this child that needs her constant attention.
In the end, I decided it was best to just keep walking.
Today, I took Collin for our last walk around the lagoon that surrounds our current apartment complex. The feelings that washed over me were so unexpectedly profound. Suddenly, I was having flashbacks of walking through the lagoon as a blushing newlywed, holding Husband's hand as we daydreamed about taking our future children here. Fast forward a little, and now I'm remembering all the desperate loops around the water I made with Collin, both of us miserably sick, praying the rhythmic rocking of my steps in his Ergo carrier would lull him to sleep. Just a few minutes of precious sleep.
The last time Collin and I walked through the lagoon, I saw a little lone duckling paddling around by itself, and my eyes swelled with tears. Where was its mother? Why was such a little duckling all alone? Being a mother gives you a different spin on just about everything. I looked down at Collin's (finally) sleeping face, his body curled against mine, all bundled in his jacket and boots, and I thought, "Will he ever stop being my childling?'
And I realized that no, he won't. Even when he's paddling around the great big pond all by himself with his own car and a job and a family, he will always be my childling. I will always welcome him back home to the nest with open wings.
I stopped by Whole Foods on my way to work yesterday to pick up diapers. As I was leaving, I noticed a young woman browsing the cracker isle, absentmindedly caressing her beautiful pregnant orb of a belly, and I stopped in my tracks. I wanted to run to her, kiss her precious belly, try to think of the words to tell her how amazingly blessed her life will be. How full-to-the-brim her heart will be. How she has no idea just how incredible it will feel to hold a tiny newborn against her heart and feel its little life beating with hers. However, in the same moment, I also wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream, "Run, girl! Get out while you still can!" And try to think of the words to tell her how miserably sleep-deprived and slightly insane she will feel on a 24 hour basis. How depressing it will be to climb her exhausted self into bed at night, only to know that in an hour (or less), she will be jarred awake again by her baby's constant need. How she will completely loose any sense of self she had, to be replaced with her new "self," this child that needs her constant attention.
In the end, I decided it was best to just keep walking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
