We are in the throws of post-Christmas recovery around here--playing with new Playmobil sets and Legos and reading our way through Roald Dahl books. It's lovely. The girl is sick, or is recovering, as is apparently half of my extended family. Seems like we all shared something with each other on Christmas Eve. It's been lazy days for us- sleeping in til (I'm too embarrassed to say), lounging in our jammies. It's ben good, but as always, difficult for me to just stay home and not have some Exciting Activity to dash off to. Or some major project underway. In fact, ironically, my generally crafty and creative motivation has just gone out the window. I have been staring at these rooms just dreaming of all the things I want to change and clean and organize. And then I go surf through a bunch of female porn (in the form of craft/home decor blogs) and feel sorry for myself because of all that I'm NOT accomplishing. I need to get off my duff, and I realy should consider cutting back on all those sweets (note to self- get the caramels wrapped and delivered already!). Perhaps I will go mail some prints to a friend in California who just ordered some. That will make me feel productive. And a little richer.

to baby or not to baby....

Well. Most of this new- found, aforementioned time has been absorbed with swine flu- me and two out of three kids. Before that I was finishing training for a big triathlon, then the husband and I went away for our anniversary and to do said triathlon. So here we are in November and I'm wondering where this time has gone. Where it is going. This may sound completely irrational, but the last few weeks (the last few years, really, but it comes and goes) I have been consumed with the question of whether or not we should have another baby. I know. Wait til three kids are in school all day and then start over. Great plan, huh? I can go in circles with this one, trust me.

All the reasons why it makes total sense: having ONE baby at home, having big kids to help, being young enough to not be sure I'm ready for that part of my life to be over... blah blah. And I'm one of those gals who (mostly) loves being pregnant, loves natural birth and labor and nursing and holding teeny fresh new things all day. However, the part of me that has been waiting for 8+ years to get back to creating on a regular basis, back to art and some semblance of order, some solitude to cultivate creativity and spiritual health and sanity, to be able to give the fabulous three I already have the individual attention they need, well, that part of me says "hold on lady! Those cute babes get big and turn into preschoolers who throw fits for years on end and interrupt you when you are trying to do just about anything and what about the other parts of yourself that you were created to express? It's not just about having a baby, you would have a whole new person! What about how your pelvis hurts so badly with PSD when you are pregnant that you can barely walk, much less run like you need to? And what if all this is just a distraction? an easy way to avoid putting ourself out there with photography or writing. And (drumroll please) REMEMBER SLEEP DEPRIVATION?" Oh yeah, that. My babies didn't sleep through the night for years.

Buuuuuut on the other hand.... having some perspective (OK, not much) with kids in the kindergarten and elementary years, I know how fast it goes. Such a small sacrifice, relatively speaking. Such a huge blessing. From this same distance, the baby lust sounds like this "oh, what's a few more years of your life waking up at all hours, chasing around toddlers, changing diapers, spoon-feeding, being confined to your house for naps every afternoon, etc?" And really that doesn't sound all that bad. But I need to look beyond that a bit to see that it is adding a whole new person to our family. Forever. It is adding a whole new person to consume resources and emotional and physical energy. It may mean not even excercising for months on end. Taking a break from triathlon, from the training that helps me feel balanced and healthy and strong. Someday there may be four kids talking with their spouses about where they will spend Thanksgiving. And someone may say to that youngest one "You always got what you wanted! Mom and Dad gave you so much more than we got. Stop acting like the baby of the family." Now I am imagining my future unborn child in therapy.

Truthfully, I think the options are grieving that my baby years are over until I have grandkids, or grieving the loss of certain freedoms that come with your kids' independence. When I step back and see it all, I'm really fine either way...but I also know that our life is FULL and the kids I have need me to be more present. See how I'm not really getting anywhere with this.

Begin the Beguine

Here I go. Can't remember when I actually opened this blog, but obviously follow-through has taken a while. I suppose life has had a bit to do with it. Busyness and all. But we are all busy. Always. The other piece is the philosophical struggle I have with the idea of the blog. Who is it for? Is it for me? For my kids? For public consumption? I love the idea of keeping track of all these things that make up our lives, these quotidian miracles and messes. I love having a document to look back on, a place to reflect and unravel my own thoughts and desires. But I hate the idea of living through my blog. Trying to put some perfected version of my life out into cyberspace for public consumption. I don't want to be in the midst of a lovely moment, or capturing sweetness and light with my camera and thinking "this will be a great blog post." So the dichotomy (false, or otherwise) has always been whether to live life and be present in the moment or to document it and reflect on it. The classic problem of quantam physics. I'll never know until I try. We'll so where this goes. Hopefully it will be a blessing to me and to you, presuming there is a You, Dear Reader.

Currently the things that have been sucking my mental energy surround ordering my days. Life's rhythm has changed a bit around here with all three kids in school at least until noonish. It really isn't a huge chunk of time, but it's a new chunk of time, and margin in my life is a bit uncomfortable. I'm a fairly driven person. Some might say, a bit of an overacheiver. Some (hubands) might even say, I lack focus. I do well with 5 or 10 irons in the fire. I thrive with the pressure of deadlines and fitting projects into the small cracks of life. But ironically, I also crave the space and time and solitude to think, write and create. But when I get it I freak out and feel guilty to have this chunk of time to myself. In my studio. Running, whatever the day brings. Ultimately I know I need BALANCE to be healthy, to be the best mama and wife and artist and everything else I'm supposed to be. And Sabbathing is a command. One that we are so uncomfortable with. I need grace to even rest in this gift.

insurmountable?

(This post was originally written 7/07)

We are in the midst of what feels like the tangliest yuckiest mess. Most of it involves money and the crazy circumstances (some choice, some imposed by things completely out of our control). Our rental house is on the market and we must sell it soon or we're pretty much screwed. Justin sold his fine, sporty, dependable car to free up some "buffer". He did it as a responsible decision, a sacrifice he thought would benefit us financially. Why drive a $8000 perfectly fine car when you could drive a $3000 perfectly fine car? Because $3000 perfectly fine cars don't really exist, I tell you! Two days after he bought it it blew up on his way to work. No, wait, it gets better. While he was sitting on the side of the road waiting for the tow truck a semi rolled by and kicked up some gravel that shattered the rear windshield. $1500 later he has a car that may or may not run for a while longer and a 1.5 hour commute to Bellevue. We should just start flushing money down the toilet and save ourselves the headache.

The good thing in this is that we have seen the provision of God through our family (blood and spirit) in the loaning of cars and the flat out writing of checks and the prayers and talks and listening and truth-telling. But what I really need to say is that it's not really about money. That's just the skin this lesson comes in. Right now I am struggling with my attitude toward Justin. It seems that whenever there is conflict or tension or he makes a bad decision I totally turn on him. I have no grace. I just look at the flaws, the cracks, the weaknesses and it's all I can see. I'm angry. I'm resentful because I managed our money and three young children while he was in Iraq and payed off almost all of our debt and hey- even bought a new house. I thought that was very Proverbs 31-like of me (she considers a field and buys it) and I only did so after much much research, prayer, counsel from many people. And now, it feels that our mortgage is nothing but a burden and he has a hard time enjoying our home. Of course, part of it is that we are paying one and a half mortgages right now because our tenant can only pay half her rent. Being a landlord is fun! If you have $20k to waste, er, throw around you should try it too! Once we sell the rental house it will free up a butt-load of money every month and that will help with the stress, but in the mean time I just am fed up and I feel like I don't know if it's worth it. My flesh just wants to go out and get a job and solve the problem on my own. Take care of myself. I know that's not really going to solve anything, but that's what my heart feels right now. I'm trying not to listen, but being numb doesn't seem like a good alternative.

Dear friends have reminded me that even in this God is near. And not only that, He is working through us, through our marriage and family and even using us to bless others. It's a freakin mysery to me. And I certainly don't feel it or see it. But I KNOW THAT GOD IS TRYING TO TELL ME THE PROBLEMS ARE NOT A FOOTNOTE, His story is richer and deeper and perhaps he is so close I can only see him if I squint. I know redemption and refining are It- the WHOLE POINT. Why do I always want to breeze by this stuff and rest in the safe, still places where his glory and peace are evident? I know the enemy is whispering to me as well, his sick, deadening lies. I pray the voice of truth will drown them out.