Friday, January 31, 2014

laundry

mamas love to tell their babies the story of how they were born on their birthdays. a year later, although i still very well remember the details of that day (or days, rather), the sentiment is foggy. honestly i don't remember much of our time in the hospital except for what i've written and how uncomfortable hospital beds are for a woman who has just pushed a tiny human out of her body. and i remember the steak dinner we got on our last night.

but, when my daughter turned a year old, and i kept hearing "the time will fly!" and "you'll blink and she'll be moving out!" over and over in my head, there is one single night that makes me the most sentimental.

about two weeks before june was born, i was pretty heavy in nesting mode and had been doing baby laundry all day on a cold january sunday (cold for pensacola anyway). after dinner i carried her hamper net from the laundry, across the creaky wood floors of our home, and parked my pregnant self on the sofa to fold all the laundry.

it should be noted here that i HATE laundry. i avoid in plague-like fashion any household activity that involves putting assorted items away (be it laundry, dishes, packed suitcase items, etc).

but i've never enjoyed folding a single load of laundry more than that one. i distinctly remember the tiny little onesies, socks, and pajamas. newborn socks are an item of wonderment. just trying to fold them lets you know how insanely small an infant's feet are. i remember the crispness of her burp cloths, and the smell of the baby detergent (i would wash all my laundry in baby detergent if i could--it smells like heaven). i remember hoping the cold would stick around for when i went into labor, not only because what laboring woman wouldn't want cold weather, but also because i wanted as many excuses as possible to snuggle our new baby. i remember feeling the relief of finishing the last baby preparations, but the anxious excitement knowing i could go into labor any day. i remember the exact amount of light that filled the space. i had one lamp on to my left, and the kitchen light shone through the doorway. the tv was on in the background and i had piles of neatly folded and stacked baby items all around me. and to this day they've never been as organized as they were then.

and when i was done, i wished there was more! i wanted more laundry to fold! what a crazy pregnant woman i was.

reality had not set in until that night. i don't know why folding laundry was what did it. i had already set up an entire nursery in our guest room. a bassinet lay in our bedroom ready for a baby. i was showered with mounds of baby gifts on two separate occasions. but laundry is what did it.

that was probably the last night that i ever did anything slowly, calmly, in an organized fashion, and without interruption. now, when i actually do fold laundry, my baby pulls it off the coffee table or bed probably 3 times before i actually re-fold it and put it away.

i had plans for a first birthday blog as a cliche "things i've learned" kind of thing, but that's not how it came out. at all. documenting what i've learned doesn't really help much. i've stored away what will help me the next time around, and i move forward, knowing that i'll have much more to learn. after all, i've only made it a year into this gig! learning is part of the process. ideas exist, opinions exist, internet articles exist, but that's all relative...and just a small fraction of the big picture.

what matters most is i have a little girl whom God has granted me 365 (369 now) days with. 368 days and counting of answered prayers. here's to another round!


june marie, on the night i brought her home (also the night we discovered her double crown, which contributes to the unruly hair she has)

Thursday, January 2, 2014

well this is convenient

i typically do not go through the cliche new years gig. i don't have resolutions and i don't like to re-visit past years if i don't have to (too much goes on in my mind to add to it). i figure, if you have to wait until a new year to do something you need to do, the likelihood that you'll follow-through is slim. for me, anyway. if i need to do something, i do it. i don't like waiting around.

but this year, things kind of came to a head at the end of 2013, and made me realize that i definitely need to make some changes. 2013 was a big year for us. probably the biggest so far.

- we had our first baby
- jeremy started a new job an hour away (a better, more fulfilling job where the moral is on the positive side of the spectrum, growth is probable, and the pay is better)
- we bought our first car together: a 10 year old 4runner and the best car EVER--we've decided our next car will probably be another 4runner, and if you're buying a car soon, buy a 4runner because i promise you will not regret it
- i made a major career shift and we took a major income hit so that i could spend more time with our daughter
- we bought our first house
- we moved to a new town...

so here we are right before christmas and we have to pack up our house and figure out the most cost-effective way to move an hour away. only christmas creates this imaginary deadline for people building things and they think everything has to be done before the end of the year, as if that makes any kind of difference. so i'm at home watching a very mobile 10 month old and my husband is working until 8, 9, and sometimes 10 at night on these "tight deadlines". meaning i have to pack an entire house while corralling a baby by myself. stress is not half of what i experienced. i already hate moving more than anything. that just made it worse. so of course it didn't get done in time. moving day came and we made a mad rush to just throw things in boxes and in piles and jam it into a truck.

and then unload it into a big, new, empty house.

i'm still making friends with this new house. we were ready to get out of the old one, as old houses are not the best place for wandering babies (too many dusty nooks, spider webs, doors that don't close, and lack of storage that leaves all of your stuff out to tempt little hands). but moving to a brand new house only confirms that i am an old house lover. i can't help it. i love that they have a story. i love cold mornings. i love creaky floors, funny little storage nooks, mismatched door knobs, and being in close quarters. and i NEED A GAS STOVE. why did people ever switch to electric?! i will never understand.

so back to the move. apparently all the stress wiped out my immune system because i came down with quite possibly the most miserable virus (second to food poisoning that landed me in the hospital a year ago). it lasted over 2 weeks. there were days that i woke up and said "i am not even 1% better than i was yesterday." and my baby had a severe grumpy spell somewhere in the middle of it. i cried every time she cried. i cried in the kitchen. i cried in the shower. i walked around all day crying and asking God why he wasn't making me better. i thought "i don't have enough people on facebook praying for me." yes, i legitimately had that thought. scroll through facebook during cold and flu season. you'll understand why.

i felt the most alone that i have felt in a long time. i was in a new house, in a new town, with no one--not even a neighbor--to check on me. my husband (who was still working around the clock) came home at 5 and then went back to work when our daughter went to bed, giving me 3 precious hours to have no responsibilities. when i finally took myself to the doctor, she saw that i had a baby and lectured me about not asking for help. i assured her i'd get help. and then i got in my car and cried again. i had no one. the three people i know here all work during the day. what was i supposed to do?

at one point i told my husband "i hope by the time we have two kids that we have some good friends here. because i couldn't do this with two kids. i couldn't be this sick and take care of two people."

and that's where my "resolution" comes in. and it just so happens to fall at new years. so call it a new years resolution if you must.

i have to make friends. and i'm not good at it. i don't light up a room. people don't see me and say "now there goes someone i'd like to be friends with." but i've heard it said before "if you want a friend, be a friend," and that has always stuck out in my mind. as an introvert, i spend a lot of my time hoping someone will notice that i am lonely and invite me to do something. well that doesn't happen. i'm 28 years old. people already have friends. they're not looking for new friends. this isn't kindergarten. i can't pass out cupcakes on my birthday and hope i'll be liked by everyone.

so i have to be proactive. i have to make the first move. i have to get involved, go out of my way to be nice to people i don't know, and i have to grow a pair and ask someone over to dinner if i want to get to know them.

i moved to pensacola without knowing a soul and i never felt this lonely. pensacola is friendly. it's kind to strangers. it's used to strangers. not fairhope. it's cliquish. closed-off. and exclusive. it's small and it likes to stay that way. none of our neighbors have even so much as waved to us. we had THE BEST neighbors in pensacola. for a while, i can honestly say that's what kept us from actively getting the ball rolling on a move. i think our block was the most perfect block in all of pensacola. but we said "we'll have new neighbors--after a while we'll like them just as much." lies!

so i can pout about it, or i can do something about it. if they won't bring us cookies, i'll bake them some cookies, dangit. i'll go on walks and introduce myself to the people i pass. i'll go to a public park and rub elbows with the soccer moms. we have to find a church. maybe find a local spot to have lunch a couple times a week. become a "local." i'm just going to have to act like an extrovert for a while.

and it doesn't end there. i have to take care of my existing friendships. they take work and nurturing. i can't expect that just because i was once friends with someone, that it will stay that way when i'm an hour away and see them less often. i've taken my friendships for granted. and i can't let that happen. bob ross said friends are some of the most precious commodities. and he knew things. no man (or woman) is an island! so i surely can't be.

so, what's up 2014. if you're ready, i'm ready.