My baby is turning five tomorrow. The tiny, curly-haired life that I first brought into the world, who carries my father’s middle name, who made me a mother, who taught me things about myself that I could never have anticipated, who made me cry harder, laugh harder, think harder, pray harder, and love harder than I ever had before, is growing, changing, into a unique little person. He reads by himself, makes origami tables by himself, opens the fridge by himself, adds numbers by himself, orders by himself at restaurants, gets himself ready in the morning, and invents entire projects with cardboard, paper, scissors, and tape by himself. He’s practically autonomous. I asked him if he would like some coffee in the morning with his birthday pancakes and bacon, since he’s almost a grownup and I figure he’ll start liking coffee soon. He said, “I might not like it, but I’ll try it. I’ll just have one cup.”

Of course, he still insists that when he’s a grownup, he’s going to live with us and go to work with Jack. He also insists that Dean will live somewhere else. Every older sibling’s dream: getting Mom and Dad to himself again at long last. Maybe the three of us will sit around and drink coffee together and complain that we wish Dean would call more often, or wonder aloud when Dean is ever going to ask that nice girl to marry him.

I also told him he’s going to be much taller when he wakes up in the morning. He was almost sure that I was kidding. He always asks if I’m kidding, even if it’s the most ludicrous thing in the world, like if I just said I was turning into a cat, or that we would never have dessert again. I never know if it’s because he really can’t tell — I’m very good at dead-panning it and have nearly alienated friends because they couldn’t tell I was joking — or if he just needs verbal confirmation that I know I’m kidding so he can make sure I haven’t lost my mind.

I’m starting to teach him to play the piano and read music, too. This one totally floors me. He played his first piano piece today from the Alfred book, alternating fingers 2 and 3 on the group of two black keys while singing a little ditty about playing notes with one’s left hand. Someday he’s going to play a real piece of music by an actual composer, and I will probably cry.

Oh crap. I just realized Dean is going to do all of these things by himself someday, too. And then he’ll move out, leaving Kent to reclaim their shared bedroom and have all the trains to himself again.



Seriously, where did this guy go?

Labels: Freude, Kent, observations, photography

• posted by erica 7/02/2012 08:52:00 PM
•  4 comments

Kent is away. He's on a road trip with Jack's mom to Oklahoma for a family reunion, and Jack, Dean and I are going to fly up in two days to join them. Except for our hospital stay when Dean was born, this is Kent's first real time away from us. I know he's going to have a blast. I also know that, as much as I've been craving some time away from him and a chance for him to bond with a grandparent, I already miss him. He's so big, going on a road trip without me.

As soon as Dean and I came home from lunch, I got started on clearing off our monstrously messy computer desk. I sifted through a few papers and started organizing Kent's art supplies, and then I came across a folder from the first church women's retreat I attended a few years ago. They had given us notebook paper to jot down thoughts over the weekend, and I found a little mini-essay I had scrawled. I had completely forgotten about it, but as soon as I started reading, I remembered exactly what it felt like to visit Feliciana for the first time on that spring weekend, to sit outside on a bench overlooking the slope of pine trees and the glassy lake in the distance. It's a beautifully still space, a magical escape. What I saw was this:

"As I sat outside, I scanned the grounds and admired the slender long-leaf pines. The tallest and straightest caught my eye first, but then I noticed that not every tree had such a clear and unembellished way about it. Some forked early, with mighty branches reaching out in all directions. Others were smaller, younger. Before I knew it, I found myself searching for the most crooked that might stand in opposition to the straightness of the others. Suddenly, the trees became to me a community of individuals, each with its own separate path to the sky. Because, in spite of the twists, forks, and sideways growth, they were, all of them, stretching ultimately upward to be guided by the sun. They were all sisters and brothers, parents and children in a glorious lineage of greenness and vitality. How could I not look for that crooked pine? It was the one capable of reminding me that, though I have surface incongruities, I have a family. I also have something that is all my own — the spontaneous perfection of individualism that is treasured by God."

Keep in mind that I wrote this before children, before abandoning a PhD, before I took a hard look at my life and realized academia for its own sake was not my calling. And yet, I still knew that I was a crooked pine. I was grappling with my place in the world, and as usual, was crafting an elaborate analogy to explain it all.

I love being a mother. LOVE. My choices have led me right to this spot in life, this frustrating, exhausting, beautiful spot. I couldn't be luckier. But man, it's nice to have some time to be inside my own head again.

Labels: church, flora, Freude, observations, SAHM

• posted by erica 8/11/2010 02:13:00 PM
•  2 comments

We took a trip to New Jersey a few weeks ago to visit my mom and a bunch of family who were also gathering there. The official reason for the trip was to celebrate my grandfather's 80.5 birthday, since his 80th was in January and we didn't get a chance to celebrate as a family then. His 80.5 was on July 4, which meant we were also gathered for Kent's birthday on July 3, plus the holiday festivities and fireworks.

We got there on a Thursday, settling in and hanging out with my grandparents who also arrived that day. The flight was pretty bumpy on the way down, and Kent ended up being sick right when we landed and he was thrown forward. I cleaned him off and changed his clothes without too much trouble, and Jack and I wondered why in the heck we can't seem to have a trip to visit my mom without Kent throwing up.

On Friday, we borrowed a car and drove down to Philly to visit our friends Lauren and Steve. Lauren (and Jeannette) had told me about a fabulous little play cafe in Chestnut Hill called The Little Treehouse, a sweet super-fun place that's almost just like the kid-friendly coffee shop I've been dreaming about.


I didn't remember to take any pictures of the actual play space, which took up about half the interior, or our amazing wood-fired pizza or coffee drinks... but the place was amazing. Here's just one aspect of the amazingness. Toys on the wall of the bathroom for the kids to play with while Mom goes to the potty. I have a difficult time keeping Kent in the bathroom with me sometimes, since he goes right away and then wants to leave before I'm done. Example: when I took my pregnancy test at Target last year and found out I was pregnant with Dean, Kent busted out of the handicapped stall before I had my pants up. I'll never forget that. So having something to keep him occupied was pretty ingenious.


We spent the rest of the afternoon chilling with Lauren and Steve, who gave Kent a card that we could turn into a cardboard airplane. There was much revelry throwing the airplane around their apartment. We also introduced Kent to a couple of different video games on the Nintendo Wii. He couldn't quite understand that his movements while holding the Wii remote were controlling what happened on the screen, but he thought bowling with 100 pins was pretty spectacular. Several of my friends in town, who have kids just a little older than Kent, have Wiis, and I've thought seriously about getting one sometime soon so that we can play games as a family. Perhaps it's in our future.



We also did a lot of Dean-gazing, because he's fun and very giggly.


We made a stop by the side of the road on the way back to NJ that evening, because Dean needed a break from the carseat. I snapped this picture of our reflection in the car's window.

Saturday was Kent's birthday, with a party and cake planned for the evening. My stepbrother Chris and his wife Cat had arrived from NC, my Aunt Mary and Uncle Jeff and two of their kids, Dave and Dan, had flown in from Colorado, and my stepsister Morgan, her husband Brian, and their baby daughter Blythe drove up from Baltimore on Saturday, so we had a pretty large crew. During the day, Mom and Bill took my little branch of the family to a carnival in town that Bill had some experience with as a Kiwanian. Mom, Kent, and I rode on the ferris wheel, which Kent always loves doing, and then Kent got to ride kiddie rides for the first time. He had a blast. He just kept grinning and smirking and then running around excitedly, telling us which thing he wanted to do next.
 
 
 
 


It was dang hot, so Dean and I bought a bottle of water and chilled in the shade where we could still see Kent.


Here's Kent getting a fun shoulder ride from Bill.


After Kent's nap, the birthday festivities got going, which included swimming, grilling out, and Kent's birthday cake, which I decorated earlier in the day to his specifications. He had told me he wanted a space shuttle on his cake, so I ran with it, and this is what I ended up with:


Several people have been confused by the numbers at the bottom, thinking that perhaps Kent was turning 32, but it says "3 2 1!" for anyone who can't read frosting.

On Sunday, we had a sort of lazy morning at Mom's house, while Mom, Bill, and my grandparents went to church. Ordinarily, we would go with them, but we knew that between Kent being in an unfamiliar church (and consequently not wanting to go to the nursery), and the up-and-down dance we usually do with Dean at our own church, we wouldn't get much out of the service, so we sat it out this time and hoped for a day in the future when it'll be easier to tag along. After church, we all went to a diner for brunch/lunch, and I got a Greek-style chicken wrap with tzatziki sauce, something I'd been craving. It was perfect. I don't quite remember what anyone else ate because I was so happy eating my own food. I think Kent had part of a meatball and some spaghetti, plus the chocolate pudding that came with his meal. It's funny, I read a quote recently about having realistic expectations while on vacation, and the example the author cited was that if your child is a picky eater at home, s/he is going to be a picky eater on vacation. Um, yes.



After the meal, Jack and Brian found themselves swaying side by side with their respective babies, so everyone turned to look and smile, and then Dave and Dan decided they ought to get in on the swaying, so Dan jumped into Dave's arms and gave us all a good laugh.



Back at home, Morgan and I took about 100 pictures of Blythe and Dean together in their Fourth of July outfits. What a couple of cuties. They're a month and a half apart, destined to be great friends as they get older. Dean hadn't quite developed all his sitting up muscles yet, so he kept falling over and we kept propping him back up next to her.


Brian caught a snooze later with Blythe and Mom and Bill's cat, Barnaby.


And my favorite part of Sunday was a little personal tribute to my grandfather: homemade pretzels. He and I made these all the time when I was a kid (though admittedly I didn't drink beer with them back then... I didn't know what I was missing). I have so many memories revolving around those pretzels. There was greasing the pan with Crisco, then having to wash it off my hands while my grandfather turned up the water temperature and I complained repeatedly that it was too hot. There were all the times I tried to make letters for everyone in my family instead of the classic pretzel shape, and my grandfather was a terrific sport and tried to keep Ms, Es, and Js together in the water bath and on the pan so that the letters would stay intact. And there was the time that we couldn't find the recipe (in the days before looking things up on the internet), and we tried to recreate the recipe from memory. I think my grandfather looked at it as a teachable moment, but I was too young to be much help.


Here's Kent munching on his pretzel by the pool. One of my favorite things about having kids is passing on traditions to them that have already brought me so much joy.

Here are some more pool pictures from throughout the weekend:






On Monday, Dave and Dan did a lot of crazy diving where they attempted to dive under each other, do high-fives on the way into the water, etc. I took a lot of pictures and a couple of short movies, and I thought I was going to be calling the collection "How Dave and Dan Ended Up in the Emergency Room." But somehow they managed not to injure each other, except one time that I heard Dave say, "You poked me in the eye!" Those two are hilarious. I wish we all lived closer.


All the diving board action seems to have inspired Kent to finally jump into our arms in the pool, and he dazzled us with his newfound adventurous spirit in the water.


Mom read a lot of books with Kent. I just love watching my mom bond with my kiddo.


At some point in the weekend, Chris and Cat posed for me to take a quick picture in Mom and Bill's kitchen. I was terrible about taking lots of pictures of everyone, so when I realized I didn't have any of them, I had to fix it.


Mom has lived in NJ for (almost?) three years now, and in that short time, I have developed a favorite tradition: walking to the little farm stand on the main road, shopping for produce, and then eating a cider doughnut and petting the goats. Here are Jack and Kent sharing a doughnut in the sun. Not much beats a doughnut enjoyed with the people you love most.

Inevitably, we had to go home. It was one of the few trips I've taken where I really didn't feel ready to leave. However, the temperatures in NJ were topping 100 that Tuesday, and when we got back to New Orleans, it was a pleasant 80 degrees. Talk about a schema breaking.

As we boarded the plane, the very eager flight attendant offered to let Kent go into the cockpit, and the pilots were all over him and had a great time with him while I went to grab the camera.


The pilot insisted on posing Mike the Tiger Kitty as well, and I was cracking up at all of them. I've said many times that I wish I could always fly Southwest because the staff is so great, but Continental gave them a run for their money this time.


And here's our wide-eyed baby enjoying the flight home.

The web of family was tightened a bit over this weekend, strengthening our bond across the vast country where we've been scattered. Thank goodness for the internet, and air travel.

Labels: Dean, family, Freude, holidays, Kent, kitchen adventures, Philly, photography, travel

• posted by erica 7/20/2010 01:29:00 PM
•  1 comments

I love pay days. A big trip to the grocery store is somehow so satisfying, especially now that I'm planning meals. Before meal planning, I'd come home with $80 worth of groceries and still have no idea what I was making for dinner that night, but now I have days and days of peace of mind packed into my trunk when I leave the store.

Today was supposed to contain a trip to the sprayground in the morning with our playgroup, but severe thunderstorms warranted canceling the playdate, so we were left with our usual pay day routine of running errands and shopping. I first indulged in my every-so-often treat of a mocha and a cheese danish at Starbucks (plus banana walnut bread for Kent), then I sipped away at my mocha while we drove around. We dropped off a Kipper movie at the library despite Kent's protests that he wanted to keep it (seriously, that is a cute dog, and I *love* his little British voice), filled up the gas tank, made a quick stop at the produce market, then headed to Target for the grocery extravaganza.

One day when we were killing time in Target, I gave Kent a grocery basket to carry a couple of things in and told him he was being a "good shopper," and ever since then he's been dying to carry a basket and shuffle around the store with it at .5 mph. Most of the time, I just want to put him in the cart and get the job done, especially since I usually have Dean strapped in the BabyHawk and he likes it if I keep moving. Kent still tells me each time that he wants to be a good shopper, though. Today, I explained to him that there are a lot of ways to be a good shopper, and one of the best ways is by being patient and helpful, as he almost always is on these outings. He's just gotten to the point where he really can help me if I keep him engaged, like choosing a flavor of fruit strip or a shape of pasta, or telling me what he wants on the pizza we're buying to have for lunch. As we were strolling down the cereal aisle, he started talking again about something he's been wanting for a while, Cocoa Krispies. Except he calls them Hot Cocoa Rice Krispies, which I just love. We had them around the house when I was pregnant, and he knows they're a Sometimes Treat but he wanted Sometime to be Today. I was okay with that.

We checked things off the list, loaded up the cart, and headed toward the checkout, and I got in line behind a woman with two preteen daughters. They had completely filled the conveyor belt with everything bright and colorful they could find in the store, from clothes and bathing suits to hair bands, candy, and home decor. Their total was $677. I cannot imagine ever having that kind of money to drop in one trip to Target, but I'm cheap, and I don't have preteen daughters. Anyway, they happily grabbed all their purchases, and then I put through our rather modest collection of pantry items and toiletries.

Reusable bags loaded up, and boys still happy, I head toward the exit, and I realize that the severe thunderstorm coming in from the west is here. The parking lot is completely grey. I'm thankful that I grabbed the umbrella out of the car, I warn Kent that we're about to get really wet, and then I splash into the crazy puddles, pushing a shopping cart with one hand and holding the umbrella over my kids with the other. I have to take the umbrella away from Kent's head when I load the bags into the car, so he just sits in the cart, squinting with a goofy half-smile on his face and already soaked to the skin. I realize quickly that there's no way to get the boys into their carseats while still holding the umbrella, but by now, it has blown completely inside out, so it's fairly useless anyway. At this point, all I can do is laugh and enjoy the rain. I make my best attempt at folding up the umbrella to chuck it into the car, open Kent's door so he can climb, squeaky-shoed, into his seat, take the cart back to the cart return area (because I think it's important, even in the rain), and then put a very surprised-to-be-wet baby into his carseat. Kent gets strapped in as well, and then I run to my door and attempt to climb in, despite the fact that my jeans are drenched and, as such, are glued to my skin and will not allow me to sit down properly. After I finally get in the car, I take off my wet shoes and socks, brush my hair so it doesn't dry in a tangly mess, then exclaim, "Holy moly!" which sends Kent into fits of giggles. He asks me in between snickers if I'm saying holy moly because my hair is wet, and I reply that I'm saying that about all of it, the whole thing.

We get home, I change two very wet diapers and get everyone into dry clothes, and then I start the pizza and get Dean down for a nap. A little while later, Kent and I sit down to enjoy our meal together. One of my favorite things he's saying right now is that he likes a particular meal we're eating, and it's a bonus to me if he says this while actually eating from more than one food group. He surveyed his sausage pizza, his box of raisins, and his cup of milk, and said in his sweetest voice, "I like this lunch, Mom." Me too, kid. It might have been a lot of trouble to get to this point, but I like this lunch, too.

Labels: Freude, Kent, SAHM, under the weather

• posted by erica 6/04/2010 02:19:00 PM
•  5 comments

I’m a day away from 30. And I’ve never felt better. I’m embracing it, looking forward with nothing but excitement and optimism.

In my 20s, I got a first-class education. I found a husband. I created life. I learned how to keep dear old friends and make new ones, how to sustain loving relationships with family members from halfway across the country. I learned how to apologize, really apologize. I learned to let things go. I took writing classes. I started a blog. In my 20s, I learned to cook for my family, everything from bread to baby food. I learned to grow my own food in a garden. I learned to zest a lemon and roast a chicken. I learned to knit, got better at sewing, developed my artistic eye. I learned to take pictures. I learned to drink coffee. I bought a car. I bought a house. I started an IRA.

In my 20s, I lost a father, and then a stepfather. I watched my own mother become a widow, and then I stood next to her at her wedding. I learned about grief, and then recovery. Then I experienced the sheer joy of seeing my father in the eyes of my son.

In my 20s, I lived in France for a month. I bought my own train tickets and my own gelato. I learned German. I learned a tiny bit of Italian, a few words in Latin (nevermind that most of it was Medieval Latin). I started to learn the Russian alphabet.

In my 20s, I fell in love with music from the Renaissance. And music from the 20th century. I learned to read white mensural notation and shape notes, to play four parts on the piano from only figured bass. I carried keys to a classroom and a stereo cabinet. I taught solfege. I learned how to sing in front of a full classroom, and how to teach even when I think my students hate me.

In my 20s, I shopped at hardware stores, farmer’s markets, teacher supply shops, and used bookstores. I bought cloth diapers, cat litter, seed packets, and bridesmaid’s dresses. I bought alcohol. I ordered vanilla beans from the internet and bought yeast by the jar. I developed a true appreciation for going to the bookstore or even the grocery store without children.

In my 20s, I chose furniture. I chose a new place to live. I chose paint colors. I chose names for my children. I chose a church and a playgroup. I chose a dissertation topic. And then I chose to abandon an academic life to walk a lovelier path instead.

In my 20s, I read the directions on pregnancy tests, made prenatal appointments, listened to the heartbeat of a tiny creature growing inside me. I rocked childbirth. Twice. I learned to breastfeed, then figured out how to share the gift of my milk with others. I felt the bittersweet celebration of weaning, then rejoiced when I got to start another nursing relationship all over again. I learned how to travel with a baby, and how to paint with a toddler. I taught a child the alphabet and watched him learn to walk. I learned all of the words to Goodnight, Moon. I heard a little voice learn to say, “I love you,” for the first time.

In my 20s, I became a wife, and then a mom. I became truly grateful for my parents and grandparents. I became an adult.

So I’d say that’s about enough for one decade. I’m ready to see what comes next.

Labels: Freude, getting older, observations, SAHM

• posted by erica 4/30/2010 04:56:00 PM
•  13 comments

Labels: Dean, Freude, Kent, photography

• posted by erica 2/21/2010 10:33:00 AM
•  4 comments

I'm lying back in the recliner in my living room, sleeping Dean strapped to my chest in the Moby wrap, looking out the sliding glass door to the backyard. In my backyard are Kent, along with not one, but two grandmothers, blowing bubbles and running around in the sun. It's about 40 degrees out there, so I'm sure they're freezing their butts off, but to me it just looks sunny and cheery. A lot of giggles and squeals are making their way inside. This very sleepy but happy mama feels the joy radiating from those three. I'm feeling mostly like myself these days, but it's still wonderful to tap into the collective energy of others while I rest with my baby.

Since they have a couple of days' worth of overlap, I'm reminded of how lucky we are to have in-laws who not only get along but who actually enjoy each other's company. They respect each other. There's no competition, no one-upping, no passive aggression or bickering. I'm blessed in so many ways. My mom has been here for a wonderful week and is leaving tomorrow, and Jack's mom got here yesterday and will be here for another almost two weeks before she heads back to Virginia (with Jack's dad coming for the last couple of days of her visit).

Also, my mom has been cleaning like a mad woman. Give that woman an award for awesomeness.

After Kent was born, I remember needing the grandparent time and help desperately so that I could recover. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that I was in shock after his birth, trying to keep my head above water while I learned to do everything for a baby and learned how to survive emotionally without any time to myself to recharge. I figured out how to be a mom, and eventually I felt like I was actually pretty good at it, but it felt crazy for a while. I felt crazy. This time, it doesn't feel crazy. I've recovered physically. I know how to take care of a newborn and have been so pleased that it's come back to me quickly. And so far, Dean sleeps a lot. Not by himself, mind you, but he'll sleep for hours in the Moby or in our arms, and it doesn't feel exhausting at all, just sweet. More sleep would be nice, but the lack of sleep, just like everything else, is also familiar and doesn't feel like a shock to my system either. The hardest part is meeting Kent's emotional needs while wearing a baby, something the grandmothers are a *huge* help with. I feel like my time with them here is giving me a chance to strategize about how I'm going to accomplish everything after they leave. Like how to get food on the table and then get through a meal. Or how to discipline Kent from across the room or across the house while Dean is nursing. Or how I'm going to finish Kent's potty training by the time he starts school in August. Still not sure about that one.

The blessings are many. I'm very rich.

Labels: Dean, family, Freude, Kent, SAHM

• posted by erica 2/15/2010 05:22:00 PM
•  2 comments

1. Take naps
2. Organize/post photos
3. Order at least one fancy nursing bra online, because seriously, these old ones are horrible and are falling apart
4. Inhale the scent of my baby and try desperately to commit it to memory forever
5. Welcome my mom to town tonight
6. Kiss my little boys as often as possible
7. Bake cupcakes (with my mom) on Thursday for a cupcake party on Friday, which will be Dean's first intro to several of my friends and their kids
8. Have more Kent time
9. Thank profusely the centuries of women who have worn their babies strapped to their bodies, for the Moby wrap is the most awesome thing ever, and Dean is happy as a clam to sleep in it all day
10. Wait for that umbilical cord stump to fall off so I can see the adorable belly button underneath
11. Enjoy the moments of tenderness and fun shared between my two boys
12. Watch our vegetable and herb seedlings grow in the window
13. Keep devouring all the good food people are bringing us — making milk is hard
14. Write out birth story
15. Be amazed, again, at what having a child can do to me

Labels: Dean, Freude, Kent

• posted by erica 2/09/2010 01:34:00 PM
•  4 comments

Today is the anniversary of President Obama's inauguration, but it's also another milestone: it's the anniversary of the day I resigned from my PhD program. So much went into that decision, and then it was over so quickly as Kent and I walked from one university office to another, gathering signatures from people who didn't care who I was or that I was leaving. And then we had our Inauguration Party that evening, the best application of a party I can think of in recent memory. The coolness of the blue O-shaped ice was nothing compared to the sheer optimism we all felt.

I reinvented myself in this past year, just as our country did. We were both stuck up until that point, restricted by the decisions and choices of the previous few years and badly in need of a change of perspective. We needed to loose our bonds, to look beyond ourselves, and to get back to what made us tick in the first place.

I'm free now, and I don't look back. I don't miss academia. To put it bluntly, the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake in a closed institution feels small to me, when the other things I can do with my life seem so much bigger.

Though I'm "just" a mom right now, I see so many possibilities for service and volunteering when my children get a little older. Maybe a mission trip to Haiti, or fundraising or a trip to Africa with my uncle, and certainly doing more locally to combat economic imbalance. And I still may teach. I love teaching. As one of my former students who *thought* s/he was writing a negative review of me said, "She loves music and thinks everyone else should love it, too!"

Just as I said I would, I have started reading for pleasure. I was on an African literature kick for a while: Cry, the Beloved Country, Where Rain Clouds Gather, Maru, and Things Fall Apart. Then I moved through a few classics, including a mind-blowing reread of The Awakening, which my 11th grade English teacher told us we *had* to reread when we were 29. I've never forgotten that, and now I understand how brilliant she was to recommend it. I'm now relishing Three Cups of Tea, a work of nonfiction about a man whose failed mountain-climbing expedition on K2 led to a lifelong commitment to helping build schools in the some of the poorest mountain villages in Pakistan. I hadn't read for pleasure in years, with only the rarest exception here and there. Now I feel free in this regard as well, not only to read uplifting novels with a global perspective to give me some idea of what to do with my time and talents, but also to spend more time reading about parenting and education philosophy to help me be a better mother. And yes, I do feel like a better mother now, despite the emotional battles and challenges of life with a two-and-a-half-year-old.

That two-and-a-half-year-old is about to be a big brother, a circumstance I never would have thought of attempting while I was still slogging through a PhD. It's bringing us so much happiness and fulfillment as a family, knowing we're expanding this little circle of love we've carved out here in the swamp.

One year out: no regrets.

Jack recently confided to me that he didn't quite understand my decision at the time, or maybe he thought I was temporarily insane or that I'd come to regret it soon. Maybe some of you felt that way as well. But he gets it now. He trusted me, just as I needed him to, because he's an incredible man.

My parenting group/playgroup has an online discussion board, and there's been a thread recently entitled "What did you want to be when you grew up?" with my friends chiming in about how their life plan evolved as they got older, where their education led them, etc. Most, but not all, of my friends in this group are stay-at-home moms, so their responses have been varied and fascinating. I haven't crafted a response yet, and I'm not sure that I will. I feel like I'm still writing my story. I love where I am at this point, but it feels to me sometimes that I'm not using my degree — even though I don't think I wasted my time, it's difficult to put the whole thing into context.

But I'm happy. Even on sad or difficult days, I'm happy, and I wouldn't change a thing.

Labels: being political, Freude, SAHM, what to read

• posted by erica 1/20/2010 08:41:00 AM
•  4 comments

We've had too much rain for several days, and this girl agreed. She decided to wait out tonight's storm in our carport, on the door frame of our outdoor closet. She was peering down at me very knowingly when I got in the car this evening (about three feet away from her) and was so motionless that at first I wasn't sure she was real/alive. She's still there right now, just looking around, waiting for the rain to stop. Aren't we all, darling bird? Yes, we are.

We had what I'd call a Mighty Fog roll in today, lingering throughout the morning and then getting thicker in the afternoon before the rain started back up. This second photo was taken at about 4:30 this afternoon.



Beautiful, peaceful, a little ominous... we went to pick Jack up from work shortly thereafter, and it took us almost an hour to get home because of the bad weather and related traffic. I was sure we were going to run out of gas before we got to the closest gas station to Jack's office, but somehow, we made it there, then got home and made dinner.

I kicked myself when I realized that, yet again, I had sabotaged myself from going to a birthing group I've been meaning to attend for about three months but keep getting mixed up about or otherwise can't go to. Tonight, my problem was that I thought it started later than it actually did. Maybe I'll make it in January...

I was very crabby while I was making dinner because I had really been looking forward to this meeting, but then after dinner, Kent asked to put his hand on my belly so he could feel Dean. I've tried to get him to do it in the past, but he's been completely uninterested or has pulled his hand away immediately, so I was kind of surprised that he even brought it up tonight. Kent stuck his hand right on the front of my belly, and within a few seconds, his baby brother nudged him right in the hand, almost like a bro high five. Kent got a huge smile and started laughing. He tried again a few minutes later and felt another little movement. I thought, "Okay, this is a big plus, and if I had to miss that meeting for this to happen, that's alright."

Labels: belly, Dean, Freude, Kent, photography

• posted by erica 12/14/2009 08:54:00 PM
•  1 comments