Baby Fever

Baby fever has officially become an epidemic!  Wedding madness has been bumped in favor of baby showers and it shows no signs of slowing down.  I'm usually the one sitting to the side choking on the non-alcoholic punch that is apparently a prerequisite as I endure stories of the birthing process, night time feedings, and insanely disgusting discoveries that have been unearthed in the confines of a pamper! The very thought of carrying a small being inside of me for more than three quarters of a year and then squeezing it out of a sacred orifice of my body causes the room to spin and bile to rise in the back of my throat.  Then when that bit of hellishness is over what is left is a small fragile being who is the very definition of a dependent!

My husband and I have shared ten years of blissful coupledom where we have been free to make decisions based on our own desires without consideration for a third party.  While complaining incessantly about the inconvenience of how our renovation has thrown us off our schedules and put a monkey wrench in our daily lives, I am beginning to realize that living with a child will not be much different than our current situation. Privacy will become a thing of the past, "me time" will be deemed selfish and incite judgment, meals soon revolve around someone else's schedule, and couple time turns into the unicorn of a relationship! 


Check out this spot on article that mirror my own fears of parenthood!

In addition to a baby being life changing, suddenly there is a new interest in what goes on behind closed doors.  The baby police come out in full force offering advice and criticism for everything from sleeping schedules and food choices to preschool selection and college tuition! Even as these words appear on the screen I realize how judgmental I have been of other parents.  How many times have I rolled my eyes at a screaming baby in a restaurant, barely refrained from lecturing a mother for allowing her child stand in the basket of the grocery cart, offered advice for hiding vegetables in food for toddlers, or shaken my head watching parents give in to their little dictators rolling on the floor tearfully demanding a cookie?

The barrage of advice and questions started when I first typed the words that J and I were moving toward beginning a family.  I have already been questioned about conceiving and offered insights on not worrying if it doesn't "take" right away.  Apparently when I explicitly stated that I was not quite ready to throw my pill pack away there were a few eager eyes who skimmed over that sentence!

So as we approach this new territory I would like to apologize to all parents out there that I may have judged in the past.  I would also like to set the record straight that I will not be posting my monthly menstrual cycle results on any type of social media, and close friends and family need not ask when we're planning to start trying because there will be a noticeable absence of a cocktail in my hand and a deer in headlights look in my eyes. The only thing that scares me more than hurdling over the side of a mountain in a motorized vehicle to my imminent death is having another human being that I am responsible for 24/7!

To The Next Step

To most the picture below would be described as a dirt pile, a hole, or simply a muddy mess.  To me it represents progress, an all important move toward that next step.  This picture is where yesterday a paid contractor using real equipment dug out the area for the crawl space that is being poured as a foundation for the back of our house!

This may seem insane to you, but after 10 long months of living in my childhood bedroom, this hole is proof that we are finally moving forward.  No more digging with shovels, we are bringing out the big guns with bobcats and front end loaders. This is a momentous occasion worthy of a toast with a fine full bodied red (however I am too lazy to get up and pour a glass so I sit here typing and toast with my IKEA lingonberry water instead).

I am hesitant to sound like the annoying guy from the American Pie series, incessantly jabbering away about "the next step," though the success of the series seems proof that the characters lives were highly relatable.  Even so, I will tread carefully in this direction.

Having returned from a much needed vacation which I spent lounging in the sun, reading a horribly written but entertaining Stephanie Myers "adult" novel, and catching up with some amazing women I am fortunate to consider friends, the "next step" has been on my mind.  My husband and I have had almost 10 years together so the topic of parenthood has come up a time or two and pretty much every time we came home to visit!  Until very recently it was a perfunctory auto reply, "maybe in a few more years...." to which we usually were given the sad head shake, but the subject was mercifully brief and quickly dropped.

So this may be the point where you wonder if I have adult A.D.D. but I promise this will come together full circle.  It was while on my solo vacation that I came to the realization that I really am ready to move toward parenthood.  While I enjoyed uninterrupted time at the beach, I watched young families building sand castles, riding bikes, and ordering ice cream cones.  While not every moment seemed idyllic (i.e. temper tantrum over a dripping cone, or a sibling "ruining" the mote), the families seemed content and comfortable being together. Then when we went on a girls night out at that same beach days later, I witnessed hormonal spring breakers practically hooking up on the dance floor, there was a line to get into a bar, and my taxi cab reeked of smoke.  It suddenly hit me that my 20's are gone!  Like for real!  We had a great time, but in a it would be fun to do this once a year with my girlfriends sort of way, not like a let's do this again next weekend sort of way.

So while I am not about to throw my pill pack in the trash (which as a sidebar is FREE for women and more people should use!!!!!!), I am to the point where I can give a less vague answer when asked about having kids.  Now instead framing my answer in years, I will simply answer, "when we get our tanglewood home untangled!"  So as the builders continue to forge ahead, and I continue to enjoy my quiet evenings at home with a nice glass of red, the dirt pile you see before you brings a new sense of excitement and anxiety with all the possibilities it represents.

Home Is Whenever I'm With You

One of my favorite songs is Home by Edward Sharp and The Magnetic Zeros.  Music speaks to my soul in a way that is indescribable because it seems like literally anything life throws at you there is a song that takes the words from your lips and puts them to a soothing classic, a heart breaking pop song, a sultry jazz number, or an indie folk song.  You may be wondering what this has to do with anything and the answer is... everything.  Right now I am at the proverbial, stereotypical, and over analytical crossroad of my early 30's and this song resonates with me on so many levels.

Today I had a very rare opportunity to walk through my old house while on Spring Break.  The abridged version is that I am spending my vacation in my old neighborhood and because we sold our home for sale by owner, we had the unique opportunity to get to know the people who bought our home.  The house we sold was not technically our first home.  J and I had built a home together up north that we sold before we ever moved into because he had an incredible job opportunity in Florida and who could turn down that much sunshine on the cusp of graduation and our early 20's?  This was however the first home we had owned that we actually lived in together and we literally poured our blood, sweat, and tears into it.

We seem to have an affinity for abandoned houses (I see a pattern forming!) and we bought our first house after it had spent three years on the market!  It was originally overpriced and since we were in no rush, we bought when the time was right and got a pretty good deal considering the market at the time of purchase in 2007.  We closed on the loan and moved in on Christmas Eve and spent our first night sleeping on a mattress on the floor and our light source was a faux pre-lit Christmas tree J surprised me with for some holiday cheer.  Christmas day was spent painting what would be the first of about 4 colors until I finally found my perfect "shade"!

Over the next four years we knocked down walls, added closet space, tiled, gutted, remodeled a kitchen and two bathrooms, landscaped, and of course painted.  By the time we were finished our house was exactly how I had pictured it in my head the first day I had walked in and known it would be our home.

Now today I stood in the middle of my old living room and felt overcome with emotion.  The current owners literally have not changed a thing.  This is probably the biggest compliment a designer could get, so as a mere DIYer, I should have been ecstatic, but instead it felt bittersweet.  I tried to take in their lovely furniture and the pictures on the wall that perfectly complimented the paint color I had painstakingly chosen but it was all a blur.  Instead I saw J and my brother knocking down the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.  I looked in the bedroom and saw the flood that woke us up from a dead sleep when the mirror fell off the bathroom wall and severed the pvc water pipes during the renovation.  I saw family and friends sitting around my old kitchen table for my attempts at gourmet meals, late night card games, and conversations. 

Even though it sounds obvious, I became aware for the first time that this was no longer my home. My dog's toys were no longer strewn across the floor as they chased each other room to room with their black snouts becoming more gray with each passing year.  The beds were perfectly made which never happens in my house unless we have company.  At some point my home had become their home.  It was at that time that I realized the meaning of one of my favorite songs.

The best lyric in the song is: We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night. Nothin' new is sweeter than with you... Ahh, home.  Let me come home.  Home is wherever I'm with you...

It took me visiting the past for a moment to realize that my home is not and never will be a geographical location.  Home is the connections we make, the experiences we have, and the love we share.  Even during this wonderful vacation away from the stress of renovating a house and escaping the cold climate for a week, when I hear my husbands voice on the other end of the phone, I have an overwhelming sense of being home.  Additionally, I sincerely wish the new owners have even half the happiness and love we experienced in our old house, and that the house we created together serves as a shelter for their own sense of home.