the first four weeks

Why is it that when I’m in the thick of it – “it” being parenting: (nearly) full-time at-home parenting – I have nothing to say about it? Why is that when I spend all day being a mom I can’t seem to think about being a mom. When people ask how we’re doing, almost one month after Oliver’s arrival, I say “We’re well. Yes. We are.” And (although now reading my response it sounds more like trying to convince everyone that we’re well rather than actually being well) I generally believe it. You can usually see the living room floor, I have kept the family in clean clothes, I’ve not missed paying any bills, I’ve managed to spend some time each day working, and only once in the last two weeks (since my parents left) have we had to eat out because I couldn’t get a meal on the table.
And yet, it just doesn’t quite seem like enough- this “just doing, not thinking” strategy. Each day, Tim gets up and, after getting Eleanor dressed and himself showered, dressed, and fed, he heads to the library where he spends all day – a full 8 hours – working on his dissertation or preparing job applications; writing and thinking and thinking and writing. (And, I might add, he’s been remarkably productive (on the dissertation) and successful (on the job applications).) Then he comes home to me, who has spent the day puttering around with this or that, doing the laundry, breastfeeding, prepping for dinner. (read: worlds away from the way he’s spent his day.) Certainly there is space in my day for thinking, I guess there just hasn’t been energy for it. The thing is that now I can see that this needs to change: I have made myself very available for the baby (I know, I know…that’s what I’m supposed to do), but I also need to make a little more room for my husband. And I need to make room for me. I do.

I’m hoping that my need to spend more time aware of what I’m doing means that I will write more (note the word “hoping”). In the meantime, I’ll provide some images from the last four weeks.

our last day as three.

with grandma & grandpa Duffey.

with grammy  & grandpa Baird.

big sister, little brother.

dimple.

yawn.

little, little feet.

with dad.

Halloween 1.

Halloween 2.

Halloween 3.

love.

Oliver, 3.5 weeks.

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “the first four weeks

  1. Oh. My. Gosh. Oliver is adorable! And the two of them…Wow! You have so much to be grateful for… and you are doing a LOT. You are not supposed to have creative energy right now. So, I hope you’ll just keep enjoying where you’re at… (Although we do miss you in blogland!) Cheers and love, Janet

    Like

  2. Your son is lovely, newborns are just so precious. You sound incredibly on top of things and extremely competent. Isn’t it amazing how we are never quite satisfied with what we do? What is that? Ambition? Self actualization? I’m constantly berating myself for not doing more; more yoga, more writing, more exercise, even more nutritious meals. If you figure how to stop and just be please let me know. In the meantime it really sounds like you have this thing under control. Well done!

    Like

    1. Millie had the same idea, huh? Eleanor came home from school in that, and when I took her to school the next morning there was a sign outside her classroon which named what each child said they were going to be for Halloween when asked the previous day. Eleanor’s answer: an excavator. Hmmm…..

      Like

  3. Janet and Catherine-
    I’m so grateful to you for your continued support. I have to remind myself, even now, that Oliver is just 5 weeks old. It’s hard to remember what life as like before him…it feels like he’s always been a part of our family.
    Thanks!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s