Probably not the best time to start blogging regularly

At least not just yet anyway, as evident by my lack of posting the past few weeks. There is a perfectly viable excuse, however, in that our apartment slowly filled with boxes, was then moved 40 minutes north to a completely different county, and now sit half unpacked in our new (very first) house.

After living in 7 different apartments within 10 years (not including the two separate stays at my Mother’s in-between apartments) I am looking forward to my own home in more ways than I can coherently explain.

The move was not without a few hitches and new ‘homeownership’ has already come with a few “ehs” but we’re settling comfortably, despite trying to unpack an entire house at 8 months pregnant with a two year old running around in circles.

By the time I really feel like I’ve got everything under control I’ll have a newborn and a toddler (a husband, new home, dog, cat and my thirties) to contend with and I’m not sure “under control” will ever be suitably applied to my life again.

 

A mother’s day

As I rolled over to my right side and received a few morning kicks from the little one growing inside me, I glanced at my two year old sleeping next to me in bed.

He normally sleeps in his own bed, all night long, but the night before last he awoke to soaked pajamas and bedding. I quickly changed him and the bedding, tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, again, at 3 am. All day yesterday he was off, and mommy instincts told me he wasn’t feeling well. He barely ate two bites all day, and fell asleep early in the afternoon. Waking around 4 pm  crying, inconsolably. Finally I just rubbed his back and hummed the same few lines of Hush, Little Baby (don’t you cry) over and over and over again until he fell back asleep, not waking until 6 pm. Naturally this means he wasn’t going to bed at his regular 8 pm, so we just snuggled in bed all night watching the Disney channel. At 11:30 he couldn’t keep his eyes open and succumbed to sleep, allowing me to place him in his bed and close my own eyes.

That was, however, short-lived. At 4:15 am he was crying out mama and I went in to see him sitting up in bed. I brought him into bed with me and gave him a glass of milk and something to nibble on, his hunger evident by the rumbles of his little tummy. Within an hour he was back asleep, and so was I.

So here we are, back to the beginning, I, glancing at him, asleep next to me in bed. It was nearly 9, I was famished and didn’t want to waste the entire day in bed ( not that that doesn’t sound like a perfectly wonderful idea really). I tousled his hair and his eyes slid open slowly, only to close again, but I knew he was waking. Eventually I pulled him in close and gave him a squeeze, he threw his arm over me and gave me a kiss.

Happy mother’s day indeed.

Little things like that, are what really matter, to me anyway. Of course it would be nice to be spoiled by presents, flowers, whatever else is commercially acceptable for Mother’s Day but all I want is just a day of peace – which, if we’re being honest, it’s quite difficult for me to find peace no matter what. I’m an internally restless soul.

Yes, I argued with my husband this morning, cried over a few things and am trying my damnedest to ignore the mountain of dirty dishes that need to be washed (until tomorrow at least), but for the time it’s taken me to write this I acquired the peace I desperately craved. Even just a little bit of it.  While the Mr. is out watching our son ride his bike around, it’s quiet. I love my son, and love to see his face light up while he’s on his Thomas the Train bike, but I am also quite happy to not be waddling after him today, instead sitting reclined on our sofa, able to focus on my own thoughts for the time being.

It’s not what you would call a “perfect” day, really it’s just like any other day save for that one moment when I woke up to see my sons face, lost in sleep, then his arm around me and a smile in his not-yet-fully-awake eyes. That moment is what made today extra special. It reminded me why I do everything I do, why I push through each day, the good ones and the bad ones. To see that love in my sons eyes, to know I am his mom, and he is amazing and therefor makes me feel amazing…

every day of the year.

This chick scraps

If I have to be honest, I’m not a committed blogger, but I want to be. Maybe that’s why I find myself trying regardless of the short shelf life of numerous blogs past.

This time around I’m setting goals in the hopes that they might help me commit.

Goal #1: Set a blog schedule. While I see this as a daunting task it’s probably the only thing that will push me further than the other to commit.

Goal #2: Live outside the digital world. Focus not only on digital scrapbooking, but other crafts and general life over-sharing, which leads into

Goal #3: Don’t try to follow a niche, just find catharsis in writing (or creating).

Goal number one may be the most difficult, which is almost odd considering I thrive on routine in my day to day, so it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with some kind of schedule or at least a routine of writing a few times a week. Goal number three should have a sub-goal of writing more for me and less for an audience – which is a thought that is seemingly blasphemous to bloggers the world round.

In the spirit of honesty, I’ve been ‘writing’ this (short) first post for over a month. I have a terrible habit of becoming easily distracted. Which, I’m trying very hard not to succumb to even now…