I’m not completely at peace in my new home office, sitting on the edge of the futon, reaching to peck the keys. But at least here, I have a little space to myself. The pastel art walls might become soothing, and the seascape up on the wall may comfort me as well. The restless child, however, might have trouble adjusting to the blue glow in the corner, and some of this stuff just has to go into storage:
• The heirloom cradle, unused and outgrown.
• The giant wagon, so nice for a picnic at the park, so large and in the way for those cozy winter nights!
• The winter clothes, or summer clothes, or whatever clothes do not fit right now.
But not this bookshelf, which doubles as my desk, and not the curtains, which (in my humble opinion) make a house look more like a home and less like a rental.
I will probably take the trash out more often, and get to the girly pile of clothes when they smell. It will work.
I can tutor and type and create custom curriculum. I can virtually assist people and work on the webpage I am designing for a friend.
But this futon sitting thing—I’m not sure about that. My back is aching just from this little blog post. Oh well. For every problem, there is a solution.
1) You really should listen to your dadddy.
2) Octopus demon ladies are still scary, even when you are 34 years old.
3) You can fast forward through parts you don’t like when you are an adult.
4) 16 year olds don’t have great judgement when they have a crush on a guy.
5) Having a bunch of stuff does not make you an expert on such stuff.
6) Singing really does matter.
7) Daddy’s really will sacrifice anything and everything for the safety of their daughters.
8) The music that I thought was really good in fourth grade is still good music. Kids deserve more credit than we give them when it comes to taste.
9) Sebastian had to be wearing dentures, because there is no way that his lobster teeth were that pearly white.
10) No matter how much you adore your sixteen year old daughter, there is no way you should ever support her marrying a full grown man after her knowing him only three days.
For a few passing hours last night and this morning, I contemplated caring for other children in my home for pay. Call it daycare, childcare, babysitting, preschool… It’s all about the same. And for a few quiet hours, when my own kids were asleep, I thought it might be something I could manage in order to make ends meet so I could continue staying home with the kids. And then they woke up.
I have but two precious angels. The eldest is potty training. The youngest is learning how to eat baby food. Both are very messy.
Today I am grateful for running water, wet wipes, Clorox Wipes, puppy pads, towels, lots of shorts and undershorts, a husband, food in the pantry, a washer and dryer, and an earlier bedtime! Goodnight!
This was the place where I first met you. Where I held you. Where I kissed your newborn flesh and whispered I love you. Now it is rubble. Ruined and broken. Replaced. To think how many were born here. How many died.
Did it reach its quota?
To me, the memories are blessed and few. Visiting a mother as she waits news of her husband, getting wired for my own sleep study, taking birthing classes, making your dad get his head checked after he bonked it, and getting hooked on the Bachelorette while waiting in the waiting room.
But mostly, I remember you, my son. How I prayed for you! How I longed for you. How I was amazed that you came to me. Here. And I called you Bug-a-boo. And it stuck.
For a while (before kids) I was really into swapping online. I joined Swapbot and bookmooch and I had a lot of fun trading handmade arts and crafts on the former and plain old fashioned books on the latter.
On swap-bot I learned about ATCs, that is: Artist Trading Cards. I made them and I swapped them and I even bought tiny photo albums to contain them. Basically it is a card the size of a baseball card that has art on it. You trade them for other people’s ATCs. You can buy and sell them too, but then they have a different name.
So, when I went to my new favorite place in Portland last week, Collage on Alberta, I picked up some ATC blanks. Here’s an ATC I am ready to give away. Who wants to trade?
I’m sitting on the floor of my bathroom, propped up against the tub, waiting for Bug to decide he is done repeating the word “bubble” and also done with his bath. I’ve already washed him, and I suppose I could rush him. But I don’t like to. I like him to enjoy his bath. And he does.
What I don’t enjoy is sitting here bored while he splashes and talks and plays with his boat and his duck. I am here to make sure he doesn’t drown, but I’m not really present. To be honest, I’m a little annoyed that he needed a bath just when I had so many things to do tonight. To be even more frank, he’s been annoying me all day.
He’s at a stage in his linguistic development where he repeats things, a lot. He is learning how to form words, like bubbles, more, and hot. He is feeling his tongue, lips, and teeth work together to make words. He watches for our reactions when he says words and he us learning multiple meanings for words. He is working so hard, and he’s driving us crazy with his endless chatter.
So I’m lounging here on the floor, scrolling through my WordPress Reader feed for the tag “devotional” and I see something titled “The Gift You’ve Been Given” and I click it. It’s a reblog from somewhere else and it tells a story that’s valuable but not completely relevant right this minute. But it makes me think of the gifts I’ve been given.
My friend got a Fit Bit a few months auto. It’s a bracelet you wear that tracks your movements and sleep. It links to your cell phone where you can also track how much you eat and drink. And there is a social aspect that let’s you encourage your friends, or harass them. I’m not sure. I just bought mine.
Mine is a tiny Fitbit Zip Wireless Activity Tracker, Magenta
Except, I only thought about buying magenta. Then I chose the more conservative black. I’m more interested in the apple version that is rumored to come out this fall. But I needed to see if I will actually get any use out of this first.
Plus, wearables like these might be on their way out. I read somewhere that wearables are so 2013. That may true. I bought mine 50% off retail at Walmart in the Clearance aisle.
So, this think is basically a glorified pedometer for the price of a couple weigh-in as at Weight Watchers. I think I’m going to try a couple things before returning to WW. I’ve just been to too many meetings. It’s old news, I need something newer. (2013 is still newer than Weight Watchers; they’ve been around forever.
So… I will clip this thing to my bra, choose one more username and password, and have a tiny LCD screen tell me I’m getting fat. Here I go!