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Texas is still going back home for me. We lived there from the time I was ten until I was twentyfive, almost as long as I’ve lived in Arizona now. Texas is still home even though my parents don’t live there anymore. They weren’t from there anyway. So, when I was in college they moved back to the midwest, their home. But, I grew up in Lubbock, 45 minutes from Brownfield, where I went with the kids last week.
I went with the kids and, we stayed with my in laws. Yes, in Brownfield (and it is – lots of cotton farms there). There is something so reassuring about the vastness of the West Texas landscape. It is almost like being on the ocean. You can see for miles. I swear you can almost see the curve of the Earth. Yes, it is dusty and windy and stormy. It can sometimes smell like manure depending on which way the wind blows but, it calms me. There is a slower pace of living in that part of Texas that helps me slow down too.
I did.
I slowed way down.
It felt really good.
The kids mostly played and rode Paco with their Pa Pa. We went to Dairy Queen a few times and did a lot of nothing.
I wish we could have stayed longer.
I’ve already written about how this little being has brought me back some of my creative juices and how I’ve been working in new ways. Looking to seek inspiration outside myself instead of within.
Recently with this and this I have taken that journey a bit further. These are some fun new ones for me. My older work was never playful.
I feel pretty good about them and I can’t wait to see what comes next.
Eva and Quinn are my collaborators on this and we’re having fun together.
I felt like sharing what is going on creatively right now… and letting you all know I’m not washing the walls of the bathroom; that is too hard to do while holding a sleeping baby in your lap.
When I am stressed out, I clean.
Not like normal cleaning, no, more like when I was pregnant and that nesting instinct kicks in.
When I was ‘nesting’ this most recent pregnancy I washed my bedroom floor on my hands and knees. I have flor carpet tiles on most of my bedroom floor. I removed them to scrub the floor.
So, you might ask, what am I cleaning now?
Nothing, and it’s driving me crazy! I have 3 kids now and though I have been under some pressure lately I can barely keep up with normal cleaning, much less give in to my urges to wash my bathroom walls, kitchen windows, cabinet doors or closet floor (under the suitcases and boxes of winter clothes).
I feel like an addict or something, that I will need to wait until there is no one around to give in or stay up late one night and make my kitchen all sparkly and nice. I think that by having things in order around me it helps me organize or clean out the problems in my mind. Or, maybe I’m just procrastinating on dealing with the things in my life causing all the stress. It’s not that I don’t want to deal with my issues, just that I don’t want to do it in a messy house.
I had every intention of sleeping in and letting everyone bring me breakfast in bed…but the baby had other ideas when she woke up happy and babbling at 6:30, way before we normally rise.
So, I took a quick rinse in the shower and headed with the little happy squeal-y head to my favorite coffeeshop where her loud but happy screeches would be more welcome.
When we got home this is what awaited. Happy Mother’s Day
Since writing the birth story, I have spoken with several friends and feel that I need to put a little more about afterwards. The birth was intense. Talia was kicking and maybe hitting in between all the contractions which led me to think she wanted the hell outa there and wasn’t enjoying it any more than I was.
I was not prepared for how intense or painful it was but, afterwards I was okay. I felt tons better upon birthing the placenta. It was huge. That thing was a relief to get out; once it was gone I felt much better. I felt like I’d been beat up from the inside out, but I got all those good hormones your body makes this time around (didn’t w/ #1).
Mostly, my recovery was good, no stitches, just some minor issues. Everyone around me was in more of a shell shock about it than I was. I think hearing me freak out made my mother worry that my recovery would be a long and painful one like after Eva. I felt relieved and positive about the experience because I knew I would get better this time. My mom was processing for days and I kept saying I’m alright, nothing like after Eva. Really. I never even needed to cry.
I can’t stop kissing her.
She smells sweet.
She wiggles and giggles and smiles and coos.
Her big brown eyes just engage me until I don’t have a perception of time anymore.
She is all fat folds and dimples rolling around to get her thumb in her mouth. There are loud slurps of satisfaction and conversation now when she nurses.
This was how old my other two were when I returned to work. I am feeling so grateful to be able to flow with our family’s rhythm this time. We take our time to play or fold clothes as an all afternoon group activity with my new little one exploring fabric textures with her tiny fists and abundant drool. These days feel quite special to me even with all the chaos. I love 14 wks old.
