GOATS!

I checked in on a Facebook page tonight for CLUCK: Charlottesville League of Urban Chicken Keepers. I joined this group a few months ago after stumbling on it and, being both a believer in urban chicken keeping and a hopeful future urban chicken keeper, I became a fan.

So there I am, looking through recent wall postings when I see someone posting a link to a blog devoted to petitioning the Charlottesville city council to allow residents to keep goats.

Now, those close to me know: I love goats. Possibly my proudest moment to date as a mother is hearing my then 20-month-old son shout this very phrase during his first encounter with said creatures earlier this year. And yes, he was more repeating what he'd heard his mother say on multiple occasions than actually expressing his own opinion. (Though he has come to truly love goats and, ever since our recent visit to a nearby county fair when he spent an hour and a half in the petting farm, one of his favorite statements is, "A baby goat! We did see a baby goat! We did! We did!")

To further illustrate my goat obsession, I offer this other brief anecdote: In 2007, on our first trip together to Lithuania, Egidijus asked his parents' next-door neighbor if we could come over and visit with her goats. And she was like, "O-kaaaay," because to her it is just a goat. But to me? A little horned friend.

So, I see this link to this goat petition and I click on it because I will sign any petition in favor of goats. And what do I see at the very top of the page?

"Tuesday, September 7, 2010

SUCCESS TONIGHT!

Charlottesville City Council voted unanimously to allow the keeping of up to 3 miniature goats per household here in the city."

I didn't even know there was a plan afoot to legalize in-town goat keeping and lo and behold, THIS VERY NIGHT it was approved. Talk about instant gratification.

The joy I felt at reading this was. . . ridiculous, really. I jumped up and down. Repeatedly. While pointing at the computer screen. And yelling, "Goats, goats, goats! I can have goats!" Egidijus and Silas just sort of watched me with bemused (maybe slightly frightened?) looks on their faces.

We had already been talking seriously about keeping chickens here starting next spring. And with my goat friends (having just one would be cruel, no? Two at least!) we'll have a regular backyard barnyard starting up.

Let the name brainstorming begin...

Three things

Today has been a rough stay-at-home-parent day. But in an attempt to get myself in a more positive frame of mind, here are three beautiful things about today:

1. A cloudy, cool day after a summer of such intense heat.

2. Watching several butterflies, including a monarch, float around the back and front yards. Seemed like monarchs were everywhere when I was a child, but now I rarely see them.

3. Seeing the first yellow leaves of fall aloft on the wind.

Note that all three of these things were outside, providing further evidence that I need to outdoors more for my own sake.

Daily Jonas

To his little brother, Silas:

"Hi little boy! How you doin' day?"

To me, through the back screen door as I walk across the back porch:

"Bye! Thanks for coming over mommy!"

Daily Jonas

Phrase of the morning: "I NEED THAT!"

Among the more entertaining uses for this phrase so far today:

1. My coffee, which I walked into the kitchen to find him drinking with great gulps at the kitchen table, like a miniature caffeine-dependent adult.

2. His penis, which was being put back into his diaper, much to his dismay.

Why I (don't) blog

I keep trying to figure out what this blog is supposed to be about before I really "get serious" writing in it. It's just another way of procrastinating. Once you write a thing, you cannot unsay it.

I keep putting off writing here because I haven't figured out what I'm about, and I don't want to make any false moves. And now I'm 30. Nearly a decade has passed since I wrote regularly. How long can the line run before I lose it all together?

Today's Deep Thought

All the time we can devote to thinking about what would make us happier indicates we really have very little to be unhappy about.

Daily Jonas

While playing in his room this morning, he says suddenly, in a hushed tone:

"I sense the dragon warrior!"

This Daily Jonas brought to you by "Kung Fu Panda."

Daily Jonas

While eating a second helping of egg noodles with butter and parmesan cheese:

"These are hungry noodles!"

Feel the time

Many times over the course of my life my mother has referenced (and cried while listening to) Judy Collins' rendition of "Who Knows Where the Time Goes."

It is a poignant song, and when set to Judy Collins' angelic voice, it perfectly conveys its wistful message. As I've gotten older, I've found the jukebox of my mind selecting that song more often, and parenthood has put it into a top 25 of sorts.

Both boys are asleep right now, and it is Judy's voice I hear in my mind as I wipe the crumbs off the counter, sweep the kitchen floor, fold the laundry and tidy the house. It seems like just hours ago I was preparing for my parents' arrival and the arrival of our little Silas, who is now just shy of three weeks old.

Now, four weeks later, everyone has gone back home. Time marches forward. I wish to pause it, to feel Silas' tiny body all wet and warm in my arms for the first time. To relive that moment over and over and over, where there is only hope. Before time settles upon us with its heavy, bittersweet presence. Before.

* * *

Across the morning sky,
All the bird are leaving,
Ah, how can they know it's time to go?
Before the winter fire,
We'll still be dreaming.
I do not count the time

Who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

Sad deserted shore,
Your fickle friends are leaving,
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go,
But I will still be here,
I have no thought of leaving.
I do not count the time

Who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I'm not alone,
When my love is near me,
And I know,it will be so,till it's time to go,
So come the storms of winter ,
and then the birds of spring again.
I do not feel the time

Who knows how my love grows?
Who knows where the time goes?

Every time we say goodbye

I have so much to write about Silas' birth and our transformation to a family of four. But the words running through my mind this morning concern my parents' departure. They are now an hour from here on the interstate, westbound and headed to Iowa. And every moment takes them further from us.

I miss them for my own sake; they have been an incredible source of help and strength for us over the past month (!) as we waited for Silas, brought him home and helped Jonas transition to our larger family. And they are also our friends; we have had terrific discussions over the past few weeks, as we always do.

But I also miss them for my children, especially Jonas. Each time he is with my family, he experiences a burst of new language and knowledge. I feel like I watch his mind grow with each passing day he spends with them. He's had more time with my family over the past month than he's ever experienced before, and the leaps I've seen in his vocabulary and communication alone in that time is stunning.

I know he isn't lonely. And with Silas growing larger by the day, in a few months he'll have a full-fledged sibling and friend to spend time with every day. But having family near enriches him so. It enriches us all.

We are alone here when it comes to blood relations, since Egidjus' brother returned to Lithuania last September. It is hard. We have a wonderful family of friends supporting us in Charlottesville; more friends than I've ever had in my life. But I feel the lack of family more palpably with each passing day.

We said goodbye to my sister Emily on Sunday, as she returned to Iowa after a week with us. And now we have said goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa. My heart aches. I was so ready to move away from Iowa when I was 21; now sometimes I feel like I'd do anything to return there. Not for the sake of that place, but for the people who live there.

Life is short. Are we wasting our time apart from the ones we love?

On the cusp

Jonas,

I have a half-finished letter to you that I wrote three days before your due date (and, as it turned out, 11 days before you were born). I remember that evening very clearly; Egidijus had already gone to sleep and I was entering that brimming-with-anticipation stage as I waited for the first signs that your birth was imminent. I couldn't sleep, and felt as though I had so much I wanted to communicate to you, though I didn't know you yet.

Here is the beginning of that letter:

Aug. 11, 2008

11:02 p.m.

Dearest Jonas,

My father wrote a letter like this to me before I was born, and so now I am writing a similar letter to you. You have been very quiet lately, getting ready for your big debut, no doubt. I am trying to prepare, too, though I am struggling to be quiet. Today was my first day off work, but I couldn't resist a bit of house cleaning. I want everything in its place before you arrive, before we bring you home to live with us in our little house here on Monticello Road.

I am writing this in the living room; the glow of the monitor is the only light in this room. Asher, the cat with extra toes, is sleeping on the couch. Your father and the dogs - Rube and Holly - are asleep in our bedroom. Rube and Holly are curled up in their den at the bottom of our closet after a day of playing at camp. Bitty, the black cat, is likely asleep under the bed, as that is her favorite spot. Soon it will be the whole mess of us in the tiny bedroom; your bassinet is ready to move in there the day we bring you home.

Now again, I have that anxious feeling as I await the birth of your brother, Silas. But this time, my anticipation is tempered by the realization that while I am in the final days of this pregnancy, you are in the final days of being an only child. And while you may have fleeting memories of this time in your life, you are unlikely to remember what it was like when it was just you and me and your dad.

There are hundreds (thousands?) of pictures documenting this time of your life, and little videos and momentos as well. Yet, I find myself wishing I could somehow capture it for you.

You are the child who made us parents. As the firstborn, that will always be a double-edged sword. It locks the three of us in a journey of discovery that is both miraculous and, at times, frustrating in its unfamiliarity. We have watched life unfold through you over the past 22 months, from those first days after you were born, which were filled with such stunned awe, to your first smiles and noises and words and movements, to now, when we can communicate with you with better clarity every day.

Each day has been miraculous. Perhaps that word is overused in parenting, but how could it not be? As a parent, you create life and then watch that life evolve. You see your influence on the process, but in other ways, it seems so driven by an inner force that is intangible and timeless. And this force of life and humanity lives and thrives inside you, my precious little boy.

You are full of life. Full of wonder. You love to play with your little farm animal set for hours at a time, creating elaborate dramas in your mind with them, setting them up in different configurations, running about the house with them (and hiding them, much to your mother's ire.) You love music and request very specific songs from the backseat of the car. You love to dance. You have had a sense of humor since you were only a few weeks old, and that sense of humor has only grown over time. You are silly. You are sweet. You are cautious and gregarious at the same time. You are sensitive.

You don't really understand that you will be a big brother in just a matter of days; you are simply too young to grasp that concept. I know the transition will have its bumps and bruises. But I hope you and Silas will grow to be friends and confidants and allies over the years. I hope our family continues to thrive and flourish.

Because we have thrived and flourished over the past 22 months. Your father and I adore each other; we are each other's favorite person in the world. I never imagined happiness like I found with him, and never dreamed I could spend my life with someone who made me feel so comfortable.

Your father and I had a beautiful life together, and it was full and sweet and lovely. But your addition to it made us a family. You have brought out strength and capabilities in each of us that we would never have known otherwise. You have shown us joy.

Thank you.

A parent in the making

Perhaps it was the coffee this morning -- I've been unable to go without a small cup due to pregnancy headaches -- but today anything feels possible.

Which is good, because reviewing this page, I see my last post was on February 6. That was 11 weeks ago. The new edition to our family is due in eight weeks. Time is moving quickly.

It has been 20 months since I became an at-home parent, and if I imagine the list of goals I had in my mind when I started this, I'd say I've met about half of them, with the other half, the more nebulous half, awaiting fulfillment.

I figured out:

1) How to be at home all day with a child, without (most of the time) feeling hemmed-in, which was more challenging than I envisioned.

2) How to balance basic household chores with full-time parenting, so that while the house definitely looks like a disaster area several times a day, it looks picked up and cleaned up just as often.

3) The snack/diaper changes/lunch/nap/repeat rotation.

4) The whole running-errands-with-a-baby/toddler thing, although recently I feel I maybe don't have that mastered anymore.

5) Traveling with a baby, and now a toddler, which requires an incredible amount of planning, preparation and flexibility.

So the mechanics I have down. It is the grace that is missing.

The grace is comprised of the extra touches that really enrich the life of a family and make childhood memorable. I wouldn't say this is void in our lives, but I want there to be more. I feel like too much of my time and attention is absorbed in housework, running errands and (*ahem*) time spent online. Time for creativity is lacking. That is where I need to put my focus.

I try not to chide myself for not getting it 100% right from the start. It takes time to learn the basic mechanics of parenthood, or at least for me it did. It took me a solid year to figure it out with Jonas. After that year was up, I started taking on some at-home work: babysitting and freelance writing and editing. Balancing those elements with the basic day-to-day tasks was a whole new ball game. The grace was left wanting.

However backwards this may sound, I am hoping Silas' birth will ultimately be a vehicle to the kind of home life I am envisioning, as much as visions can ever become reality. If I end up taking on more editing work after Silas is born, I hope I can do so in a way that is less invasive. I very much want to find a place for paid work in my life, but not at the expense of providing our family with the kind of life we desire -- the very thing we set out to capture by making the choice for me to stay home in the first place.

Snowy morning

The product of a very snowy morning and the first time Jonas has "helped" me bake. He prefers tomatoes (which he calls "Moe-toes") to cookies, but he certainly enjoyed dumping the ingredients into the bowl.

This snowy morning turned out to be the beginning of our second Really Big Snow this winter. It occurs to me that in the five previous winters we have spent in Virginia, we have had perhaps six inches of snow total each winter. This year we're at five feet and counting. Although I don't love snow enough to live up north, I do love it enough to relish another weekend snowed in with my boys.