A perfect day

I don't usually like Sundays. They seem too squished from beginning to end. I spend too much time thinking about Monday, and often wish I was born with multiple hands to accomplish everything I see that needs doing. Sundays bring that out in me. Everywhere I look, I see a project. Sundays are usually a great day for a local outing away from the house and all the work that beckons.

I thought yesterday would be a pretty awful day. I didn't sleep well, waking often and pacing the house, getting drinks of water, checking on Cora, falling asleep to too-busy dreams. But in the morning the sun was shining and the day beckoned with possibility. We decided to go out to breakfast, but as soon as I checked our bank balance and saw how much we've managed to spend over the past couple of weeks on birthdays, outings, dates, babysitters, and $400 garden building materials (including soil and compost), I dug in my heels and made a huge breakfast with all the yummy produce in our refrigerator--scrambled eggs with red peppers, onions, and mushrooms, served over fresh spinach with grated cheddar, roasted potatoes with paprika, toast with butter and blueberry jam, fresh fruit, and coffee and tea.

While I whisked the eggs and roasted the potatoes, Brian and Cora played with Play-Doh at the kitchen table. They made trains with wheels and tracks, chug-chug-chugging along.

It was so much better than waiting in line. The sun streamed through our kitchen window. I listened to them talk animatedly. We sat down and ate and listened to each other. Somehow, breakfast turned out perfectly--crispy golden potatoes, acres of flavorful eggs, just-browned toast. All of us agreed it ended up being so much better than going out. And we meant it.

Afterward, Brian played the guitar and then he and Cora headed out to the backyard to pick spots for our garden beds, and replant our indoor plants.

I started cleaning. You might not think this sounds like the beginnings of a perfect day, but hear me out. I cleaned the baseboards, dusted all the furniture, vacuumed under the beds and sofa and chairs, watered the plants, cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen. Meanwhile, every time I looked outside I saw Brian and Cora in different parts of our yard, bending over to study bugs, picking flowers, spinning and falling down, transplanting our potted plants and sifting through dirt, scoping out areas for the garden while Cora pointed and offered her opinions. Finally they took a break and rested in Adirondack chairs while studying the bird house and searching for bumblebees.

The windows were open, a breeze wafted through the house, everything started to feel organized and clean. By the time I was finished, there wasn't any more dust. I went outside and played with Cora while Brian started building the raised garden beds. I kept getting distracted by the clear view of the Cascades etched in the sky, still partly covered with snow. But in our yard bluebells, tulips, and daffodils are pushing up and blooming everywhere.

Soon, the neighbor kids came out in their backyard to see what we were up to. Shortly after, a little girl who lives behind us climbed the fence and we all started playing soccer in our backyard. Then we migrated over to our neighbor's super cool play structure and zipped down slides and swung on swings and played a hilarious game of T-ball. Meanwhile, just over the fence, I was able to see Brian constructing our cedar gardens.

By lunchtime we were filled with fresh air and sunshine.

It is spring here. It really is. It feels amazing.

We ate an easy lunch of leftovers and put Cora down for a nap, and then Brian and I spent several hours working in the yard. He finished the beds and I raked the yard and swept the patio and just generally looked up at the sky and felt happy. There's still a lot to do out there. There always is. We don't bother with the yard during the winter. The lawn doesn't grow, but the weeds do. We have some major weeding to do. Major. But I'm excited about it.

The garden beds are arranged and ready to go. We just need to fill them with dirt and compost and plant some seeds. I went to bed reading my gardening book. I'm going to start with some of the easy seeds that don't require indoor starts: carrots, bush beans, radishes, corn, spinach, yellow squash, and potatoes. This week I'll start the ones indoors that need it: cauliflower, lettuce, onions...and a bunch more that I haven't decided on yet. Hopefully more greens, but I can't remember the growing cycle for those.

The apple and pear trees are starting to bloom. I'm worried we didn't prune them back last year and thus may have another year of low fruit production, which makes me sad when I think about all the lost apple sauce and apple butter and apple pies. But we'll see. Maybe we'll get lucky.

Today, Cora and I sat in the sun and had a picnic, then wandered around barefoot, feeling springy wet grass and moss beneath our feet, and puttering around in the raised beds. We spent a long time listening to the birds and filling the bird feeder with seeds, then sitting quietly on our blanket waiting for them to come.

"Shhh, Mommy. The birds are coming," said Cora.
"Yes, I'll be very quiet," I whispered.
"I maybe see a bird!" she shouted. Then, "Shhh, Mommy. Quiet. The birds are shy."

We sat like that for a long time. The sun made us drowsy. Now she's sleeping and I'm going to start writing.

Okay, seriously.

Let's be honest. Sometimes being a "stay-at-home" parent is complicated. It's blooming with happiness and contentment on one hand, and rife with scheduling and squeezed personal moments on the other. And there are the goals, the things I want to accomplish for myself and my family. Like, trying to write a novel during 2-hour stretches a few times a week. Or vacuuming the house in the morning and finding crumbs all through the hallway in the afternoon. It can start to feel defeatist. Like, where's the story now? Where did I leave off, anyway? And why bother vacuuming at all? Who the bleep cares whether my house is clean? Why not just live in a hell-hole and call it a day?

But I am on page 157. That's something, right? Making it there slowly, but making it there I am, Sam I Am.

And the dust bunnies are being held at bay by teeny tiny people carrying itty bitty guns attached to the psychic vibrations of my vacuum, which is calling out to them from the confines of its closet: I want to run screaming through the house and get it allllll! Let me out, the dirt is callllling me! I can hear it shouting now.

And things in life, as they are for everyone else, is a series of juggling acts. I am not going to be able to write today because I am making baked macaroni and cheese for a family who just had their second child. I am going to go upstairs and grate the cheese and cook the pasta and enjoy watching the white sauce simmer on the stove. And I'm going to be at peace with that. It is a joyful thing to be able to help friends. I hope the food turns out alright.

All the while, my little one will be sleeping, as she is doing now. And I hope I will always remember the feel of her hand in mine as we cross the street. I want to remember forever what it feels like to take her to gymnastics and watch her swing into a pile of foam blocks and crawl out like a wriggling fish. I want her to always trust me when she needs help, like she did this afternoon when trying to walk on the balance beam alone. And I hope that by writing this down I'll always remember her 2-year-old voice today as she said sleepily, "I'm going to wake up and see you in the afternoon." Then tucking her head in my neck she started singing, "I love you in the morning and in the afternoon, I love you in the evening and underneath the moon. I love you so much, mama."

Ah, crikey. Does she have any idea? My heart is still lying on the floor in her room.

Confessions

I'm trying to believe that we're going to have one of these in just three months. A lil', wee, curled up, sleepy babe that dozes all day and wakes all night.

I am intermittently overjoyed, shocked (even though this pregnancy was planned), overwhelmed, and awash with feelings of guilt because I dread the sleeplessness yet I can't wait to meet him and cuddle him up in my arms, a real, live, small little being.

Right now he's kicking at my belly, probably protesting the influx of too much food. I seem to be extremely into eating all the time. Breakfast, snack, snack, lunch, snack, snack, snack, dinner, snack. Um, yeah. I just finished a plateful of salt and pepper ridge cut potato chips. They were delish, but not exactly full of the nutrients my growing babe really needs. Fat, salt, starch, yes. Vitamins? I'll have to get back to you on that.

I've also been distracted by how to accomplish a shared room with a 2-1/2-year-old and a baby. Granted, we're not going to attempt the shared room until the littlest is four or six months, but still. Phew. It's intimidating. I have to keep reminding myself that if all else fails, we can move downstairs and put the two kids in separate rooms upstairs. I've staved off anxiety by flipping through a recent spring copy of Pottery Barn Kids, finding peace in the uncluttered representations of perfect shared room bliss. All the combos of pinks and blues and toy boxes and loveliness makes it all look so idyllic.

I'm all for shared rooms. I think it's a great way to get kids to bond and learn important lessons about sharing and boundaries. But the wake-all-night sleep pattern of a newborn and the uninterrupted sleep habits of Cora feel highly at odds with each other.

Still, somehow if I focus on the idea of decorating the room for functionality and harmony, I feel better. I'm not thrilled about painting the room a third time in just a few years, but I feel like it would be a good way to jump start the process. Plus I really want Brian to paint a mural on one of the walls.

Aside from general young family angst, I have a few things I need to get off my chest:

1. I haven't written anything in my novel for TWO WEEKS.

2. One day, instead of writing, I watched Cutting Edge 3 while Cora napped. Yes, in case you are wondering, that is the third in a series of teen ice skating dramas. Don't ask why I chose it. It's enough that I am confessing it to you.

3. We spent nearly $1,100 on food in February, not counting nearly $300 on going out to eat.

4. I recently read (in a magazine in my doctor's office) that cell phone use while pregnant and during young years is linked to a 54% increase in behavioral problems, major depression, and messed up brain waves in kids. It's caused me to feel a bit obsessed and worried about how much I used my phone for conference calls and chats while pregnant with Cora. I think I'm officially going to get a pay-as-you-go phone in April when our two-year contract is up with AT&T. I even turned off the wireless on our modem because supposedly that is bad for their brains, too.

5. I have been looking on Redfin lately. (That's a real estate site.) I'm committed to staying here, but I still like to go there and look at big houses on big lots in areas where I don't think we want to live. Let's face it, I have a problem, people. It's better if I just don't go there, but I do. I'll have to work on that.

6. We are putting in 64 square feet of raised bed gardening space in our backyard and I'm sooo excited about gardening with Cora and harvesting good food. I'm even excited about learning how to can what I hope will be an over-abundance of good produce. However, I am intimidated about growing starts or mapping out how best to use two 4x8 beds, and how to manage Seattle weather. I mean, it was nearly summer on Saturday, 60-degrees and sunny and blue blue blue. Today it snowed. Nothing stuck, but still. Snow? Now? After the crocuses have shot up and the cherry blossoms have started their snowflake descent on our lawn?

7. I miss my body. I miss running and wine and braxton-hicks-free living. I miss feeling in charge of my life.

On the budget front, one thing I've noticed is that January's thrifty days provided some shopping training. Instead of anticipating a cart bursting with hundreds of foods and flavors, I've started to get a better sense of how to walk out of the store for under $100 a week. Along with our CSA deliveries, that means that we might be able to come in at under $150/week, which is great. More on that soon.

Conversation with Cora

On the way home today, Cora and I shared a little conversation. This is how it went:

Cora: Do you want to talk about jungle animals? (She's learning about these in her nanny share.)
Me: Sure! That sounds like a great idea. I love animals.
Cora: OK. Um. Elephants. Giraffes. Flamingos--they're jungle animals. Lions.
Me: Oooh, those are all really cool animals. Did you talk about those today? What did you learn?
Cora: Yup. We did. And horses and dogs, too. Kitty cats.
Me: Hmm. Do you think horses and dogs and kitty cats are jungle animals?
Cora: Maybe sometimes.
Me: Oh, OK. I guess you're right. They can live in the jungle sometimes too.
Cora: That's the end of the story.
Me: Hmm?
Cora: I'm all done with the story. That's the end.
Me: Oh. Well, that was a great story! Thank you for sharing. I'm glad you're learning about animals.
Cora: Yes. Mom, you know what?
Me: What?
Cora: When I am a big sister I am going to sing Lullaby and Goodnight--like that, hum de hum dee dee dee--to my little brother.
Me: That will be a wonderful thing to do with your little brother. He will really like that. You are going to be a great big sister.
Cora: Yup. I am.