Home

Dearest readers, thanks for being so patient.  Goals tomorrow!  Happy almost weekend!



I have a hard time saying that word-- home. Why? Probably because in part my heart has a home in many places now, because it is connected by delicate fibers too fine to be seen, to others hearts across oceans and mountains and yellow-grass fields. People who have inspired me or touched me or been my friend. Somehow if I say the finality of that word, will it feel like I am severing those threads, threads that have woven into my heart and helped to make me who I am? It is because of people I have left behind, people who secretly in my heart I want to just come on over for dinner or a walk to June's seat or blab an hour away at the park like we used to, that I have the very hardest time saying that word-- the "h" word-- because it means I'm somehow letting go of those times and recognizing they won't come again.

And another reason, as a child I often caught myself imagining climbing the mountains where I was born so I could see what was on the other side. I think there will always be a part of me that wants to see what is on the other side. An insatiable wanderlust that makes me want to see, experience, and sometimes, --live-- on nearly every inch of this sweet planet.

Home also means letting go of the grass-is-greener syndrome-- recognizing that happiness isn't found in a place, it's found in one's heart and way of life. Nor is any dwelling perfect-- there will always be something left to be desired. Moving doesn't solve problems, it just swaps them out for different ones.

And lastly, because home means commitment. Commitment to something. It means we are going to ride this thing out together no matter what happens, thick, thin, hot cold, happy or sad. And that is a little bit frightening. In some ways, it is staring down the barrel of death. Of accepting what life will throw at me, and being okay with it. Growing old, experiencing loss, watching loved ones grow and move on. Will I ever be able to say that word without a little hidden tremor in my voice? I don't know.

But I do know one thing. I do love where I live. I love watching the seasons change on the mountains, then creep down the valleys, or the reverse. I love places I can escape to just minutes away where I can think and see God face-to-face. I love having so many thoughtful neighbors watching over me. And knowing every last one. I love one last thing. That I brought a baby home here. And others have come and gone and dropped their coats on the floor and we've said goodbye and hello as the seasons have changed with the whoosh of cold or warm air from the back door. We've buried pets and hidden teeth under pillows and decorated the Christmas tree and snuggled under warm blankets. We've laughed, shouted, helped each other, fought, and danced like weird people in the living room. If there is anyone worth putting down roots for, it is these little ones that I want to give stability to and let them make friends without worrying about whether they'll have to say goodbye to those friends. It is for memories and for family and for good enough.



Home

Sitting in the night study
Only the glow of the
Weekend's photos
Clicking across a
Computer screen,
Baby nursing into sleepy
Bliss
In his soft felt Dino jammies.
Black cloud
Dances with streaks of
White,
Inching along the
Hills.
Little oohs and ahhs
Trickle down the stairs
From little out-of-bedders
Pressed against an
Upstairs window.
Then it comes,
A sheet of water
Orange from the glow of the
Streetlamp standing sentinel
Outside.
Now we're snuggled up in
The dark,
Watching
the Glow
Hero wall,
Partially finished pine shelves,
And a train of little
Feet down to watch
The show.
The tapping of rain on the roof,
Gorgeous glut of plenty
Outside and in,
Protected,
Safe,
Happy,
Rain,
Lamplight,
Little feet,
Wonder,
Heroes,
Projects,
Home.

 

What makes a place home for you?  Do you also have a hard time calling a place "home" or is it easy for you?

Lucky Girl

...to be featured on BlogHer this week!  See here.  (update 9-13-16: I asked Blog Her to remove my posts during my high conflict divorce)

Thanks for your support, dearest patient readers!

Living in England and Some Little Reminiscinces

The time has come and gone: remembering the time we moved here four years ago, when I was big and pregnant.  I've been thinking a lot about the different places we have lived and the people we left behind (more on this tomorrow).

These two used to hold hands in the car.  They are still best little buds.

There is a part of me that will call those places home, places I sorted life out as I walked or ran, watched the seasons change, brought babies home, helped them learn to walk, laid on the couch all day moaning with the stomach flu together, visited church parties and walked with friends and laughed over my cardboard box Yorkshire pudding served with Salmon or my cold custard (oops). 

Life in England wasn't perfect.  I was sick all the time.  We were separated from our family by time zones and distance.  We lost our dear mother only a short time after we returned due to cancer.  My house was frequently a mess (now it's worse, ha ha), as I adjusted to new motherhood, pregnancy, and new motherhood again.  While we were there, I tried to force myself to spend a certain chunk of time with my little ones each day, as I'm trying to do now as part of my project.  It was not easy.  It was hard.  (not hard in the sense that I loved it, it was just hard learning to juggle all of the housework and stuff on top of it)  I resurrected this poem I wrote after we returned.  Isn't it funny, looking back with the clarity only time can give, what it is I remembered most?  Yes, I loved England the country and all her little quirks and beauties and customs.  No mentions of wishing my house were cleaner or that I had chosen more fashionable furniture or something, the things I remember best, the memories that are fondest, are of people, especially my little ones.  It was worth every little sacrifice.

Sorry, this poem is super sentimental, and choppy, and won't always make sense (though it does to me).  But you get the picture.

PS The Elizabeth reference is to my daughters, the first of whom was born in England.  It is in reference to this drawing by Da Vinci, which was (probably still is) hanging in the National Gallery and which I fell in love with.  The Windsor reference refers to our first trip to England, when we were house hunting, and how we fell in love.  So many happy memories there.

Goodbye, Cedar Drive

Goodbye, number 49

Where we brought baby home,

Listened to clickety-clacking trains,

Returned from rambles

With leaf in hand--

And sticks and rocks.

Goodbye little footpath,

Through our forest -- slanting sunshine,

Kade’s “yah” roots,

Skipping down our dirt path,

Leaves trickling down in red and amber,

Old stream,

And bridges of sink or float.

Goodbye park,

Goodbye book truck,

Goodbye little horse trails around

The solitary fat oak tree

We passed in rain,

Under stars,

Early morning mist, and sunshine.

Goodbye church spire,

Little room where we sang to

“Sleeping Bunnies,”

Stroller walks and autumn walks.

Goodbye Sunninghill High Street of donut days,

Walks from work and Stock Exchange,

Goodbye Sunningdale train station,

Waitrose.

Goodbye Ascot,

Where I cried,

The only person in the world,

Because of the perfect life inside me.

Goodbye St. Peters and Frimley,

Where He gave you to me,

Elizabeth.

Goodbye Bracknell,

Coral Reef,

And Sainsburys,

Christmas dinner with the Joneses,

Little drive of swans,

Midsummer Night’s Dream,

And Rudges.

Goodbye little church of friends,

Summer Sundays

Chasing baby across the grass.

Goodbye London,

Where St. Paul's rose

Above me

Over a spanning cable bridge.

Goodbye winding streets,

Trafalgar,

St.James Park,

National Gallery.

Goodbye, Sir Winston,

Presiding thoughtfully over

Parliament’s golden spire,

Goodbye English countryside,

We loved your cottages,

Ivy,

Garden walls.

Goodbye

Winding cobblestone

Streets,

Climbing roses,

And ancient thatched roofs.

Goodbye creaking streets,

Bending into

Surprise endings.

Goodbye Windsor,

Happy wanderings,

Family days,

Queenly Mc’D’s,

Doll houses,

Bustling shops.

Goodbye, Queen Victoria

And a Christmas tuba

Under twinkly pine garlands.

Goodbye Great Park,

We loved your ancient trees,

Your promises,

Your Long Walk,

And your silent Copper Horse.

You were our

First

Love.


Tell me, how do you carve out time for your little ones? Share your secret.

Its Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas-- At the Park

On Friday of last week I realized we had visited the park four times during the week.  The weather was so mild that we tried to take advantage of it, even though we only visited the park for 20 minutes or so a couple of those days.  Can you see how much my little ones loved it?  I loved getting out, too.   One night before bed, my baby started saying "go buh-bye!"  "Park!"  "Shoe-shoes!"  "Go buh-bye!" "Paaaaarrrkkkk!"  "Shoe shoes!"  He is obsessed with the park right now-- and I love it.  This one is our new favorite.  And we got the bonus of seeing Santa Claus, even though neither of my kids would go near him. :)

 This little girl dresses herself and has very strong opinions about what she will or not wear-- ie, she will not wear anything but a skirt. 

This Month (8)

I'm going to take a few days and research discipline. Then I'll let you know my specific goals for this month.

Enjoy these photos.  First one is on the way to Thanksgiving #2.  I thought she looked so cute I made her sit for a quick photo.

This is at Grandma's house during Thanksgiving #2.

How was your weekend?

A Hat

For today's viewing pleasure, enjoy these photos of my littlest two and a little hat drama.  I loved this hat my sister gave E. last year for Christmas.  So cute.  But he won't wear it, as you'll see in these pictures (see the distressed look on his face?  and how happy he is when he gets it off?).  I couldn't even stick on the hat and jump right back for a photo because it was already being removed.  It makes me laugh.  Most of my kids have had issues with hats at this age.  Anyone else?

Happy weekend!  I miss you already.  Will your kids wear hats?

Stalking Santa

We stalked Santa yesterday, okay not really.  But isn't this a fun picture?  More later.  See today's real post below this one.  :)  Happy almost-December!