this is a page for

Category: Transitions

Welcome Home

You know, I was just fine with living in our house. Yeah, it’s small, but hey, that’s less to clean. I’d like a more private, more lush yard, but gosh, we’re so close to everything (and by everything, I mean Target and Wegmans, of course). And, you know, there’s the pool. The POOL. It doesn’t matter that we won’t be able to afford to send our children to summer camp, or piano lessons, or feed them a square meal on days ending with “y” because most of their inheritance has been poured into a new pool liner, various squirrel-attacked covers, and the occasional SCUBA diver to dig glass shards out of the deep end (glass tables and concrete don’t mix, but you could’ve probably told us that already). We liked the light and the character of this house. That, and you get what you get and there’s no use doing anything but accepting what you got. Until we brought Cian home from the hospital nine months ago, that is. That’s pretty much when our house…

Limbo

Wake, feed, sleep. Wake, feed, sleep. Wake, feed, sleep. This is what living with a breastfed newborn is like, if you’re the one in charge of the breastfeeding. Wake, feed, sleep. It reminds me exactly of what it was like to play a game of jump-rope on the playground at recess as a kid. Two friends would stand opposite each other, swinging the rope in a perfect rhythm, while I stood to the side, arms raised, hands timing the beat of the rope against the ground, taking a moment to understand the pace of the game before I jumped in, took my spot, broke through the window. That’s what this is like, these early weeks. Wake, feed, sleep.  I can hear the rhythm in my head as I stumble through the day, though that could just be the sound of my own pulse in my ears because I am so tired. Wake, feed, sleep. Everything must occur in windows. Feed the baby, jump in the shower, feed the baby, get the girls a snack, feed the baby, brush my teeth. And in between, watch to see if he wants to be awake, or wants to…

Christina

Hey, you guys.  I’ve missed you.  I’ve been quiet this month, I know that, and am so thankful for the messages asking me where I’ve been.  I’m here, I’m here.  I haven’t written lately partly (okay, largely) because I am straight-up tired.  This pregnancy thing has been exhausting the third time around.  I mean, it’s going well, and the baby’s healthy, even if s/he is growing at a frightening speed thanks to genetics and my alarming desire for Utz crab chips and vanilla fudge.  But as I’ve mentioned before, I’m still having a bit of an issue staying on top of my world.  It’s harder to keep up with two young kiddos and all the mundane responsibilities of full-time parenthood when there’s a human parasite (sorry, baby, but yes) feeding off of me and making me have to pee every twenty minutes.  Writing and blogging and taking photos of the backs of my kids’ heads have taken to the metaphorical back burner of my now infrequently used stove. But there’s…