fresh

I created a new layout as you may have noticed. It all comes from fiddling with things I don't really know how to use and not saving the old design. So this is how it will look for now. I say for now because it could be temporary.

Or forever.

I haven't decided. But for now I like it.

If you don't, I'd love to hear suggestions on how you'll design it for me instead.

7 months

Dear Sweet Potato,

You are growing so fast that sometimes I can't believe that only a few short months ago you were still in my tummy. You are such a delight and a joy to me on the days when I'm feeling down. It doesn't matter what room of the house I'm in, you'll crawl until you find me. It brightens my heart every time. Exploring the house has become your new favorite pastime. Besides trying to eat Wash.



About the cat. You two are so funny to watch. You chase him. He tries to ignore you. He acts like he dislikes you but will, incomprehensibly, meow and gain your attention. Something shiny will catch your eye and you'll veer off the direct course you were taking towards the cat. He will notice this, seem to think about it, then meow loudly. You then forget about the shiny object and will redirect yourself towards him. It's like watching two boxers circle each other in the ring.




Because of you I was able to celebrate Mother's Day for the first time this year. You and Daddy made it so special for me. I even got macaroni art out of it. That's my favorite kind of art. Daddy was kind enough to label everything for me. You drew the cat, our house, a tree and even an outline of your hand. I love it and keep it on the fridge.



You've begun getting two of your top teeth in. But not the middle two. Oh no. You're getting one middle one and the one on the other side of it. Like a tooth with a sidecar. When Daddy and I first saw it we though "Oh no, please don't let those be her middle two teeth! She'll look like Sloth!" Yes, we called you Sloth from Goonies. But you have to remember we did it with love. Like when we called you Gollum for the first month of your life.

Those new teeth have been put to good use since you're now eating 2 solid food meals a day. Ok, I don't really mean solid. I mean gelatinously paste-y. You love everything I've fed you so far - pears, apples, carrots, peas, sweet potatoes. Everything disappears the second it hits your tongue. Then reappears magically once you stick your whole fist in your mouth.





But the biggest milestones you've hit this month are sitting up and saying words we understand. The other day I went to get you after a nap and there you were, sitting up all by yourself in your crib. You were so nonchalant about it too. You had a look that said "Hey, what's the big deal. Doesn't everyone know how to sit up?" Besides your superpower of sitting up, you've finally begun listening to me when I say "Mama" and "Dada". Except you only say Dada. Over and over and over again. I wish I could have captured it on video but here's the breakdown. I say mumumumum, you say dadadadada, I say mumumumum, you look at me like I'm crazy and scream dadadadada as loud as you can. It's wonderful.



You are wonderful. I am constantly being told by complete strangers what a beautiful, sweet, well-behaved baby you are. And if they could only see you for longer than 30 seconds, they'd know how right they are.



Love, Mama

in place

Have you ever felt like you're running really fast just to stay in the same place? And that you'd have to run twice as fast just to get where you want to go? I feel like that a lot lately. Like I'm moving and moving and moving and not getting anywhere. I want to be different. I want to be better. I want, I want, I want. I want a lot.

I just don't know what I need.

I keep looking for something to fill the space. Nothing quite does it. I feel like I should be doing more. But more of what? Do I just need to get acclimated to my new role - the role of the one who stays at home? I'm so used to always having something to do that when there's nothing I feel...useless. Futile.

I didn't mean for this to be a woe-is-me post. But these things have been on my mind constantly lately. Besides taking care of the baby and housework, I don't feel like I contribute, that I don't earn my keep. There are so many things I want to do but I don't know how.

I want to sew. I haven't sewn anything besides hems in 19 years. And I don't have a sewing machine. I want to learn to crochet. I want to finish a scrapbook I started 10 years ago. I want to make something, do something, contribute something. I don't even know where to start.

I guess that's just what I wanted to say - I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going. But that doesn't matter because I don't even know where to start. I'm just stuck in place.

the low end

It's hard to tell someone you love that you're not happy. Especially when it's not their fault you feel like this. And there's no right thing to say in response to that monumental statement.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just not happy."

"...."

Most think it's our right to be happy. That the forefathers gifted happiness to us in a package along with freedom. But the Declaration only says the pursuit of happiness is guaranteed. The government isn't just handing out samples of happiness with your voter registration. Pursuit implies effort; trying and sometimes failing.

And, man, have I been failing at it lately.

I began wondering if my body had just gotten used to this permanent state of fatigue and dreariness. That when I woke in the morning I expected the dread and so there it was - the anxiety of another LONG day before I could bury myself back under the covers and hide.

Besides the dread there were other indications that something else might be off. Dry skin, weight gain (more than just from the baby), hair loss, added depression. I went to the doctor positive in my mind that it was my thyroid. I knew that's what was wrong. Couldn't be anything else. I've been having my thyroid checked every year or so for the past six years and this time, this time, it had to be the answer.

But after four months and a series of blood tests it turns out it's not. I have all the symptoms of hypothyriod but that's not it. Blood work showed I'm on the low end of normal - between .4 and 2.65 and I'm at .6 - you can't get any clearer than that.

So then what's wrong with me? Why am I cringing in the morning when I hear the baby singing to herself through the monitor? Why am I disgruntled that I have to do laundry? Why am I out of my mind furious when I see that Jason forgot to feed the ducks? That's not normal. But at least I know that.

So back to the doctor and I'm on a new anti-depressant. Turns out all those symptoms can also be attributed to long term use of certain depression medications. The last one wasn't working at the dose I was OK to take, so we try another. This is only my second day. We'll see how tomorrow goes. Then the next day.

I just know that I'm tired of being on the low end of happy.

mother

I have been influenced by many women during my life. Teachers, friends, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, cousins. The list goes on and on. But none are more precious to me than my own mother. She shaped who I was to become.

I was spoiled as a child. Not in the normal way you're thinking. OK, yeah in that way too. But I was spoiled because I had a stay-at-home mom. I didn't know at the time that it was unusual to have a mom who made dinner every night, who made cookies from scratch and even sewed some of my clothes. She would read me books and play games she secretly hated (yes, Monopoly I'm looking at you) for hours. I had no idea how lucky I was.

As the backbone of our family, my mother is always there with gentle encouragement. She has never said an unkind word of anyone and put a face to the very definition of "service." There is never a time when she's too busy to help someone. My friends always used one word that defined her whole disposition - sweet.

When I started school, she began working. But you would never know that from the state of our home. The house was always clean, dinners were always made, laundry always done. She taught by example, knowing that it's easier to be comfortable in a clean house. She is always there when I need her, even though we live in different states. As a child I could count on her to hold my hair back when I was sick, double check my homework and not be too mad when I colored with purple markers on the fireplace.

When I became a teenager she gave me an out - if I ever didn't want to do something (ie, dangerous, illegal, boring) - I could use her as an excuse. A well acted "dang, my mom won't let me" works wonders in certain situations. As an adult, we worked at the same business for awhile. Every Friday we'd go to the same restaurant, get the same meal and sit in the same place. Those are some of my favorite memories. When I moved 600 miles away I could count on a phone call every day to make sure I was alright.

And now that I have a daughter, I have a new understanding of all she does for me. How she could rock her babies to sleep every night because she couldn't bear to hear them cry. And how every success, pain, sorrow and joy becomes your own. I can only hope that I'm as good a mother as she is.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.