It’s been a few weeks since I last wrote a blog post here. It’s funny; you can go nearly two and a half years doing something almost every day, essentially writing in your sleep. Then, you let a little time elapse and all of a sudden you feel like you have to start over from Square One.
Well, greetings from Square One. I is writer and words is become hi?
Bear with me while I get my rhythm going again. These next few posts will be the blogging equivalent of a good knuckle-cracking.
This has been a year of Good Fortune for me. I always felt like it had an auspicious feel to it; I knew good things were on the horizon. I didn’t know what they were, but I knew that changes were coming. They would be what I made of them, and I was ready to make good of them.
You will find sometimes in life that you don’t have time for pessimism. At those points, do not listen to that nagging “what if” that tells you it’s more grown up to fear for the unknown. Tell it to go away, that your gut that says All Is Well is right.
I find myself this July back in my hometown which is completely different than when I left it ten years ago. It’s a place I’m proud of and a place that C will know as her own. Our family’s history is here. Every day on my way to work, I pass by a large house with a three-story radio tower that my grandfather erected back in the 50’s. I never met him, but my dad would drive way out of his way when we were kids to show us the tower and tell us about his dad’s electronics shop and his hobby, boating. Now as I drive past that tower every day, I feel like they’re both winking at me as a reminder that I am indeed exactly where I am supposed to be, to stop doubting my Good Fortune.
I’m tired at the end of the day, but it’s the good kind of tired that comes from working at a place where I’m not as heavily emotionally-invested in my activities. It’s true what they say: stay-at-home parenting really is the hardest job on the face of the planet. When I was home with C, the hours just went on and on and on. By the end of the day, I was spent and I’d retreat in my blog so I could tease out the beauty of parenting a small child. The fabric of early childhood is prone to knots and dreads; you’ve got to seek out the things that are beautiful about it and comb them out with some special hair tool that have to get at a specialty beauty-supply store.
I come home now, and C runs to see me.
Mommy, I WUUUUUUVE YOU!
You should see it. Occasionally I’ll check behind curtains and see if there’s a camera hidden somewhere taping my life in some Truman Show setup.
At bedtime, she misses me and asks that I lie down next to her bed while she falls asleep.
Mommy, you sleep nexta me.
I hear her toss and turn and after about twenty minutes she’s out. The light hits her on her face and she’s my little baby.