Entries Tagged 'family life' ↓

This is one of the many reasons I wanted to move home.

Some would say we are slow. We’re going to go with efficient. The Solos kids have been baptized. Tim and I are breathing a great, big sigh of relief.

 

Sometimes you don’t need words to tell the story. To think, this is only the beginning.

Seven kids, seven days. Tim’s cousins were in town and we were glad to have them. Even though the kids were good, that was exhausting. It’s the constant movement and the noise that wears me down. I’d like to crawl into bed for two days with some good books and bad TV, but I don’t think it’s an option.

Just another one of those conversations that’s too amusing to keep private.

Tim: Hey, want a beer?
Me: Uh no, I gave up alcohol for Lent, remember?
Tim: Oh.

He’s quiet for a moment..

Tim: Does this mean we won’t be . . .
Me: That’s what you gave up for Lent.

Another Sunday night has arrived. The kids are tucked in, but are not quite ready to surrender to sleep. Currently, strains of Jingle Bells are drifting down the stairs. They aren’t fighting, so neither will I.
Tim and I have been working at the old house again. Some of it is easy. I don’t mind pulling staples and tackboard. If anything that job is a relief.
It’s the sorting that kills me. Knowing my father hates to part with anything, it’s hard to throw away a stack of letters, even though they have both moved on and are married to other, a cracked picture that used to hang in the hall. Those things can be hard, butaren’t impossible.
The pieces that hurt are those that were meant to be used and have simply rotted away.
I look at those broken toys and wonder how much overtime he has put in to cover the cost of an item he meant to use with his family, but never got around to.
It’s an old story and a familiar one to some, but how I hate sifting through the pieces of the past

Just remember it’s 5, 7, 5. It’s supposed to be about nature, but I find it fun to be spontaneous.

This evening’s muse? 

Aggravation.

Children are running
Baby squeals, boys are shrieking
Head pounds, Tylenol.

Eye twitches, nerves frayed.
Dogs are pacing, children scream.
Glass of wine for me?

Not hungry, too full
Eat two bites, this is dinner
Bed time, I am hungry!

Wednesday morning a chorus of angels broke out into the Hallelujah Chorus. I opened my eyes and listened to the strains of the hymn as it slowly dawned on me that I had not moved since falling asleep the evening before. It has been a very long time, years, since I have had the luxury of not being awoken in the middle of the night. Someone in the peanut gallery may say, “But you didn’t have children at the conference back in April!” Ah, that person has never been a nursing mother or they would know about having to pump thanks to being in tune with the baby’s cycle, even when said baby is ninety miles away.

For over five years I have been pregnant, nursing, or both. I am ready to have my body back and to move on to watching our family grow rather than actively fueling its growth. Ellie is weaning and only the tiniest part of me feels a touch of regret. The rest of me will dance out to the dumpster and gleefully throw away my nursing bras with their snarled elastic and bent hooks.

Please don’t misunderstand, breastfeeding is a beautiful thing. I am glad to have done this for them, but I’m also glad to have the freedom of once again belonging more to myself.

September seventeen, for a girl I know it’s Mother’s Day ~ Tragically Hip

I first fell in love with the words of this song in my late teens.

We hoped and tried for eighteen months, turning to a fertility specialist. My first appointment involved bloodwork to check thyroid levels. That bloodwork also showed I was finally pregnant. We thanked the specialist for their quick and effective program. 

It was a tumultous pregnancy, first Tim was laid off when the silicon industry slowed. He found work as an electrician for Ameristeel. I worked for a nice restaurant, waiting tables and cooking. In June I began having complications and was hospitalized on July 1 for pre-term labor. I was 27 weeks pregnant, but the magnesium sulfate stopped my labor. Five years ago I joined the ranks of motherhood as my little man joined the world kicking and screaming.

Happy birthday little man.

Happy birthday.

We’re sun kissed and wind burnt, gorged on sweet corn and relaxing on a lake near Fergus Falls, Minnesota.  Others may disagree, but this haven created by my inlaws is a world apart from the one I knew in the Twin Cities. I love the solitude in this corner of the world. The kids can be as loud as they want and there is no one to bother. 

I went for a jog this morning and saw five cars in my thirty minute crawl, each of whom waved.  This is not the home we left behind, rather it is one we enjoy visiting.

If the phone rings, it’s not for me.  Which is fine, there are no calls I want to take.  There is no high speed connection and the thought of dealing with dial up is frankly too much hassle for this spoiled princess of the innertubes. Pictures will come, but not today.

The baby naps in the shade as I sit with an unread book in hand and watch as the boys practice their fishing, drowning hapless worms 

Sorry fellas, better luck next time.

We are engaged in a frenzy of hedonism, consuming every drop of pleasure from these long summer days and dropping into bed as the waning Sturgeon moon keeps watch over the loons on the lake.