perilous domesticity

my computer was broken for a while.  i didn’t know what the problem was, but i knew it was unusable.  couldn’t use the trackpad, couldn’t use the keypad without the errant cursor jumping all over the page, highlighting and deleting at random what i had written.  frustrating, to say the least.  turns out i had a bulging battery.  that sounds ugly, doesn’t it?  bulge?  not a pretty word.  anyhow, apple replaced my battery for free, once i figured out that that was the cause of my issues, so now i can write again.  wahoo.  not much going on in my world these days.  just enjoying the waning days of summer, spending time with the kiddos and friends, enjoying the glorious weather.

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we were gathered tonight at my brother’s house, celebrating my sister-in-law’s mid-to-late-thirtiesomethingish birthday, and i mused that 10 years ago we would have had shot glasses on the bar; today, it’s sippy cups.  party preparations used to include bacon and eggs for the stragglers guaranteed to waking up on the floor the next morning.  back then, parties were still going strong at 2 am, most often in the form of a dance party in the kitchen ending with one than one gentleman removing his top in an enthusiastic, albeit drunken, imitation of some sort of chippendale.  now we’re all home with kids by 8 or 9 pm.  it’s a different life for sure, this life with kids, but it’s a good life.

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speaking of la familia.  my kiddos are awesome.  my girl just turned three last weekend, but today, watching her trail around following a gaggle of five-year olds, i would have sworn she was going on 13.  so independent and poised and yearning to be part of their circle.  at once it made me simultaneously proud that she was so confident and self-assured, but also heartbroken that my baby is so not a baby anymore as she slyly and urgently motioned for me to “just go away, MOM!” as in,  ”sheesh, you’re embarrassing me, mother.  i’m trying to play with the big girls and you’re going to remind them that i’m just a kid.  now shoo!”  she starts preschool, three mornings a week, in september.  she is so ready.  she is excited, and so eager to learn.  i am also so ready, mostly for the few hours of relative silence when she’s in class, but also so NOT ready for her to grow up.

the boy child.  oh, my peach.  we moved him to his crib this week, out of mama’s co-sleeping embrace, and he has done really well.  it was not the difficult transition we experienced when Avery was an infant.  he is sleeping pretty well, and we’re starting to see some semblance of a schedule emerge with him.  it really does feel like he’s still brand new, like he just got here.  but in reality, he’s almost 4 months old!  what?!  when did that happen?  i was rubbing a finger along his gumline and thought i felt a roughish nub there….could he be getting a tooth already?!  noooooo.  he’s still my baaaaayyybeeeee!  avery didn’t get her first tooth until 6 months, though my mother-in-law reports that my husband cut his first at or just before 4 months…so it wouldn’t be that out of the realm of possibility.

we also have another new baby in the family; our niece Claire was born on August 8 (just three months after my Crosby was born) and she is just a tiny little bundle of lovely.  i love that my kiddos have two cousins, who are close to them in age, who live nearby.  my cousins lived on the other side of the country when i was growing up so i never really got a chance to know them.  it makes me so happy that my kiddos will grow up knowing, and will likely go to the same school as their cousins

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0ur garden is going strong.  i am just about zucchini’d out.  the tomatoes are now ripening faster than we can pick them, and we pick them at a pretty quick clip.  we’re first timers, you see, and we were a bit enthusiastic in our planting, anticipating a good 50% failure rate, given my history of black thumbs.  but guess what?  it’s pretty much all gone gangbusters.  our eleven tomato plants?  yes, you read that correctly.  eleven.  yep, they are ALL prolific producers.  we’ve got tomato overload.  the four zucchini/yellow zucchini/summer squash plants?  yep.  like giant monster plants on steroids.  the peppers, eh.  the herbs, eh.  the cucumbers, eh.  the lettuces…were awesome at the beginning of the summer.  we’ve learned a lot about what works and what doesn’t, and we’ve learned a lot about what to do differently next year.

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signs of the impending change of seasons have begun to make their presence known, but i will go down kicking and screaming.  summer sunshine is really my lifeblood.  it fortifies me, makes me feel happy, energized, whole.  winter is damn depressing.  fall is winter’s evil sidekick, reminding me everyday that snow and frigid temps are just around the corner.  i saw a V of geese flying overhead the other day, practicing for their long journey, no doubt.  no! no! no! i screamed in my head, urging them to turn around as if their failure to migrate might ward off the cold weather i know will be upon us soon.

i went to one of those Discount Massage Places today out of desperation. i have a regular massage therapist, and shame on me for being disloyal, i should really know better, but today i needed someone to work out the knots, like NOW. the tension in my neck has been brewing and my jaw is pulled so far to the side it feels as though i’m kissing my own right ear. sadly, after an hour of work on it, i feel no relief.

the massage therapist was a mannish woman with a rather unfortunate build and a bad perm. i’m no expert, but i think she received her training through a correspondence course or perhaps she bought her license online. flat out, worst massage ever. i know i shouldn’t complain. after all, a bad massage is *still* a massage. that’s like complaining about bad sex. it’s still sex, right? how bad can it be? but my god, i had to refrain from crying out, “stop! just stop!” not even halfway through. i didn’t know what to do; it’s an awkward spot, that’s for sure. i felt rather vulnerable, seeing as there was nothing but a sheet separating my nakedness from this woman, so i didn’t want to insult her, but at the same time i was paying for this service so i wanted my money’s worth. the whole thing was like quick.quick.pinch.grab.grab.rub.pinch.rub.poke.poke not at all soothing. not at all therapeutic. all really grabby and totally manic.

there’s really no point to this whole story, other than to hear myself whine about a totally first-world problem (oh, boo-hoo, bad massage) but i’m out $39 plus tip and i still have a whacked out jaw and shoulders ratcheted up to my earlobes so i’m irritated. i shall be calling on the amazing superstar nanna, who is the absolute cat’s meow when it comes to massage therapists, to work me over good, and i shall never again stray. i’ve learned my lesson.

the boy. oh, the boy. my love. he goes by many names: crosby, cros, wuvbug, chubbawuv, crosbadoodle picklehead. i am perfectly smitten with this little creature.

he loves tummy time, lifting his head and looking at his surroundings right-side up, but he’s learned to flip back onto his back when he wants to see the world from a more passive pose. he tries to roll from back to tummy and would totally have the skill mastered if not for that pesky arm that gets stuck under his wonderfully chubby goodness. the chub is undeniable; his thigh rolls are delicious. at his two-month appointment he weighed a bit over 12 pounds. by contrast, our daughter didn’t hit that weight until almost 5 months and is still a string bean of a child just weeks shy of her third birthday. the boy is a great eater. no breastfeeding struggles with this one. he loves to eat. he still spits up after every meal but it’s a happy spit and clearly not preventing weight gain, so I’m not concerned. soggy and sour-milk-scented, but not concerned.

and he sleeps! this is the most amazing thing because my daughter’s behavior had led me to believe that the person who coined the term “sleep like a baby” was full of shit. she just did not sleep. it was a battle from day one with her; hours and hours each night bouncing and rocking and swinging and shushing and crying (all of us, not just her). this little man is a different animal. he is (mostly) easy to put down at night, and he (mostly) naps pretty well each afternoon – can you hear me knocking on wood so as not to curse myself for saying this out loud. i don’t feel any of the horrific sleep deprivation I suffered when my daughter was a newborn. subsequently, I’m not struggling with the postpartum depression and anxiety I felt when she was young. (also: medication. it’s a good thing)

he’ll be 11 weeks old tomorrow. my chubby little peach. I can’t imagine life without him.

my friend, Cathy, has been writing about her struggle with secondary infertility over on her blog. it’s an amazingly candid and honest account of a topic that is often misunderstood and overlooked. Cathy recently found out that she is pregnant, and today she found out that she’s carrying twins. I am so happy for you, Cathy. I am so excited to read all about your journey growing O’s siblings.

I could make a list of 856 things that are annoying me right now, but could not tell you the reason why. it seems that my tolerance for irritation is low and my patience has worn thin. is it the heat? the hormones? the monotony of nurse, shush, sleep, repeat while tending to the other lovebug whose patience is also tenuously fragile and whose applecart is easily upset?

I find myself on the verge of a snap with uncomfortable frequency. I close my eyes, take a breath, and splay my fingers out in their most un-clenched position as if to expel the tension through their tips, yet still the frustration mounts. my neck and jaw, where i hold my stress, ache from the constant tension. the craving, nay, the need, for a glass of wine is irresistible.

but still, there is joy. the baby boy is such a peach, and he is proving to be less of a challenge than his sister was in her infancy. he is full of smiles and has gloriously large, inquisitive eyes. he loves to snuggle and eats like a champ. my daughter is full of love and laughter, and so perfectly almost-three; full of personality and independence, gussied up in a tutu yet covered with bumps and bruises from relentless climbing.running.jumping faster, mommy, fasterfasterfaster! she astounds me with her creativity every day and leaves me shaking my head in utter disbelief at all she is capable of and all she knows.

time seems to be flying at a breakneck speed and i fear that this summer will be gone before we’ve really gotten to enjoy it. there’s so much to do yet I feel like I’m doing a whole lot of nothing. I just need to slow down and breathe, live in the moment, find stillness, and savor the tiny moments of silence should they happen to arise.

{this moment}

a friday ritual.  a single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week

a simple, special, extraordinary moment.  a moment i want to pause, savor and remember.

~ amanda blake soule ~