A Change Would Do You Good


I can only describe the past fews weeks as that if Bryan and I were characters in The Sims, we'd both be standing there flailing our arms with word bubbles above us filled with exclamation and question marks. If we were on the Oregon Trail, Bryan would likely have died from exhaustion, and I'd have drowned us all in the river because I tried to ford it and I didn't know what I was doing and I loaded the wagon with too much buffalo. I

We left our first home. In our last weekend there, I woke up before my husband and baby and decided to not only stay awake, but go out for a drive. "Who is this woman of mystery and adventure?" I said to myself as I drove to get donuts. Driving home with all of the sugar and caffeine, I felt myself getting a little weepy.

We won't be able to go and get Saturday morning donuts and coffee anymore.

Then I realized I was doing that thing where I get overly sentimental about scenarios that don't really exist. That was actually the first and only morning I'd ever decided to not sleep in and go get donuts and coffee.

Teaching Walter how to play Candy Crush
It was such a significant place, though. It was where Bryan said, "I will never get an iPhone, and I will never get a cat."

It was where we got our first Christmas tree - from a man in a parking lot. He told us (loudly) that our marriage would flourish IF AND ONLY IF we made a point to have sex under it once we took it home. Strangers were looking at us and we were really uncomfortable and I'm pretty sure Bryan said, "We'll think about it, but we have hard floors, so...that might hurt our backs."

It was where where I came home after leaving my job in the big bird, where we found out I was pregnant, where I dreamt my heart was a chicken tender, and when I became certifiably insane by going eleven days past my due date.

We had to make a decision quickly. We found out the night before we came home from the hospital with our newborn that our landlord was selling the house we lived in. My parents graciously offered for us to live with them for a while to save money and figure out our next step. (I should do a blog series on "HOW TO BE A BOOMERANG KID"). We scooped up our baby and our stuff and sometimes I cussed from the stress of it and now we live in the basement. It's funny, because when I was pregnant we were panicking about living in a one bedroom apartment with a baby and figuring out if we should go to a bigger apartment or buy a house. Now the three of us are living in an even smaller space, but it's sweet and good and it feels like we are catching our breath after a lot of big life changes happening in rapid succession.

Bryan's job is hard and leaves him so tired - but we are trying our hand at new things seeing how much he loves it is refreshing for both of us. We raised a whole bunch of chickens and then processed them ourselves and it was messy and disgusting and I'm now left wondering how Laura Ingalls Wilder made it all seem so dreamy. YOU SHOULD HAVE TALKED MORE ABOUT ALL THE BLOOD, LAURA.

I love being a mom, but the life change seems to have rendered me speechless whenever I sit down to try and write about it. I made a dark bargain with a sea witch and consequently, I've lost my voice. Oh wait, that was actually The Little Mermaid. Nevermind.

But really - I'm just in a season where I am trying to be still and quiet and figure out how to articulate the significance of becoming a mother without sounding like the most sentimental and redundant woman on the face of the earth.

I find the days are long but fleeting, and my time with my girl is so precious. We sit on the couch as I feed her and I marvel at the wonder of breastfeeding and oxytocin. I silently pray a mix of praise and supplication, saying things like "this is hard," and "thank you," and, "if it's possible for me to make it through breastfeeding all of our children without my boobs looking like tube socks with oranges at the bottom, that would be awesome."

Every time I look at her I think of that Walt Whitman quote, "You are so much sunshine to the square inch." I wish it was because I am well-versed in the likes of Whitman, but it's because I saw it on a greeting card and have never forgotten it.

I'm pretty sure I say it every time I blog once every five months, but thank you for reading my words.

And also, Hi Nan. I love you and miss you :)