Five Years

On New Year's Day it will be five years since we moved into this home. Five years is usually a pretty short timeframe in the course of a life, but oh what a five years it has been for our family.

Five years ago I was six months pregnant with our first baby. I said it was nice to move while pregnant because I wasn't allowed to carry anything heavy, but it was really annoying to not be able to do much. But we were so excited to settle into our little home and get ready for the start of our family.

Generally speaking, we planned to be in our home about five years. By then, I figured, we'd have two kids and this house would be at full capacity. Five years, and three kids, later, all I can say is Ha! to all of our careful plans. Life being what it is, I don't think we're going anywhere anytime soon. And I really feel like this is where we need to be right now.

Life in a small house is what it is. I think carefully before buying toys for the kids: where would we put that? I hate clutter, and alas, I am a cluttery person. We have very few places to just stash things away, no extra drawers or closets for odds and ends. It's all out there, every day.

But I also know that a bigger house = more housework. Some days I like to think we're at the vanguard of the small house movement. Who needs all that space anyway? The more space you have, the more junk you buy to fill it up. And who needs all that stuff? People in big cities get by with a small fraction of the space I have. People in other countries would find my house spacious. Why do I feel so picked on for having a small space?

I know why: It's my kitchen. I finally realized why mealtimes are so stressful lately. My kitchen is small, and it's tile, and no curtains or textiles of any kind to absorb sound. It's basically an echo chamber where my family gathers at the end of a long day, everyone loudly needing something, thirty seconds ago. I love to cook, but my kitchen is the one room in my house that I feel is unlivable. I hate feeling claustrophobic in my home.

So, I'm happy for now, but please don't tell me I have to live here forever. Sorry this post is a downer. Today was kind of an awful day.

So. Five years. It's been happier, and sadder, and more full of frustration and joy than I ever could have conceived of five years ago. And now, on to what's to come.

journaling

I've started keeping a sentence a day journal. At book club this month we read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin and although I'm not usually on board with the whole self-help genre, this book is worth your time. I have a copy if you'd like to borrow it. At the end of book club we all had to name something we were going to try from the book, and several people (not me) said they were going to start a sentence a day journal. But I decided later to jump on the bandwagon and I've been doing it for I think five whole days. So that's pretty good for me. It's also got me rereading Writing Her Own Life, by Mary Clearman Blew, who took her aunt's fifty years' worth of sentence a day journaling and wrote a compelling book about something that would seem very boring.

So far I've noticed a trend in my few daily sentences: I need to get a better pen to keep with my notebook. Also, I stay up too late on a regular basis. Maybe I wouldn't be so tired if I didn't stay up late? Revolutionary. I blame Nathan for that one. The kid won't nap, and if I make him lie down he wants to me lie down and talk, or read stories, or play, or something. So after bedtime is the only time I get to myself, and it's so nice. I hate to waste it by sleeping. But I think we've established it's not working so well.

Speaking of which, it's 9:45 and I'm kind of wiped out.

It's a good day when the room starts to spin

This morning I felt a little off, a little light headed. Not really dizzy, but I did nearly run into the wall  on my way into the bathroom. It was kind of funny, and then I went back to bed. It reminded me of E.B. White, who said,

Six months ago I began to suffer from dizziness. It is an unhinging of the equilibrium, a condition of the body which gives rise to queer street effects, dreams, and fancies. I will be walking along the street, say, and will take three normal steps in a forward direction; then, as I am about to set my foot down for the fourth step, the pavement moves an inch or two to the right and drops off three-quarters of an inch, and I am not quick enough for it. This results in my jostling somebody on my left, or hitting the corner of the Fred F. Bench Building a glancing blow. It was fun for a few days, but I have recovered from the first fine ecstasy of dizziness, and am getting bored with it. Once I sidled into a police horse, and he gave me back as good as I gave him.

I'm feeling fine now. But the momentary dizziness, along with some little boy puke in the bathroom downstairs thrown in for good measure, convinced me to take the day off.  Jammies day! Well, when I say day off, I mean besides my actual daily housework, because I can't just not clean anything. I'm still ramped up enough for that. But since the Thursday dust-and-vacuum routine, I haven't done a thing; no hare-brained last minute projects or frantic spring-cleaning. It's been nice.

I've been feeling like I need to slow down and be more present with my kids. I like them a lot more when I do. So today I took the time to think it was a little cute when Clara wiggled her bum in the air when I was wiping it, instead of being just plain annoyed. It's so nice, I'd even like to get out for a walk, but that would mean putting on real pants. Sorry neighborhood, I'm not going to show off the truly enormous penguin pants except for a quick trip to the garbage can.

So, day off today, a CBC and a doctor's appointment tomorrow. We'll see how things go.

Update

I hate complaining. A few nights of good (well, better) sleep and I'm feeling better, and heartily ashamed of all my complaining. Things are good.

And here's a blog post that I loved.

Blaming it all on the steroids

Well. I'm back, at least for the moment. I usually like to keep blogging upbeat, but. Here I am.

First off, I'm really thrilled to not be having a baby this week, at 33 weeks, like last time. That part is awesome.

But how to get through 7 more weeks?

The first time I even heard of ITP, I heard it described as stupid. Stupid ITP. Exactly. Since that's what I was diagnosed with two years ago, that about sums it up. In a nutshell, I have a low platelet count. And my doctor, trying to get my platelet count up to a safe level before this baby comes, has put me on prednisone. It's a goal I can't argue with...

But this is making me crazy. I can't sleep, I can't relax, I'm hungry all the time, and I'm having crazy mood swings. I'm hot and my face is red all the time. Yeah, these are all things that happen in late pregnancy, but I have never been so miserably pregnant before. So I'm blaming it all on the steroids.

Stupid ITP.

Lars Love Letters

For Christmas my brother gave me some cards. Which ordinarily, meh. But these are really great cards. He makes them by hand. He even makes the paper. And so they are awesome, and funny. Check out his etsy shop. And spread the word.

Resolutions

I don't make resolutions. Too lazy. Resolutions require effort and accountability, and I gave those up when I quit my job to stay home with babies.

But I do want to be blogging more. I do miss blogging. The problem is, blogging usually happens during naptime. And lately, the only thing happening during naptime is napping. I'm all about the naps lately. Overwhelmingly, exhaustingly tired--that's me.

So, if you don't hear from this blog for a while, hold me accountable. Or bribe me. Or something. Because this blogging thing is going to happen again, before the end of the world in 2012.

The Great Divorce

I've been reading The Great Divorce for my book club. It's C.S. Lewis and not actually about divorce, but about heaven and hell. I always love me a good C.S. Lewis, although I've never been able to get through The Problem of Pain. He's not quite there doctrinally, but he does give you a  lot to think about. The basis of this book is that hell is a state of mind. If you can let go of selfishness, your pride, faults, etc.--basically be able to give up your sense of self as you have known it--then you'll be transported to heaven, which is reality. Earth life and life in hell was just an illusion, a ghost of things, and once you accept Christ you're able to see life for what it really is.

So here's what this book made me think about. Some time ago I happened to catch a BYU devotional on the radio. It was a professor who had moved from the UK to Provo about ten years ago, and he started out talking about the ways in which he still felt a foreigner in the U.S., like he still felt he was driving on the wrong side of the road. He then turned this into a metaphor in the ways our lives now would feel foreign in heaven. It really got me thinking. There are things I'm pretty attached to that really wouldn't jive in heaven. I hold on to things because I think they're part of me, but should they be? I do love me some mindless tv at the end of a bad day, but I'm pretty sure they won't show Thursday night comedies in the Celestial kingdom (still hoping I get there). So, thinking about the things we get so attached to: our hobbies, likes, so forth, thinking that they define who we are, when maybe we should be thinking a little bigger than concentrating on such ephemeral things.

And another metaphor (I was pretty insightful this morning at 4): nutrition. I keep thinking I ought to be eating more healthfully, since you know I don't want to be growing an obese baby or anything. But my days are such that when I'm hungry and have a minute to grab something, I go for something easy like leftover birthday cake. The apples are right there in the fridge, but that's too much work. So, and here's where it gets all philosophical, I think when I'm in need of relaxation or even just some temporary distraction, I reach for the spiritual/intellectual equivalent of ice cream, something that will satisfy me now but does not nourish. But oughtn't I reach for the kale?

So, cars, nutritional superfoods, great divorces. Have I got everything? I didn't sleep much last night. I hope you can't tell.