A New Year

It has been nearly a year since I've been present in this space. Since February 2013, much has changed for our family, and I'm grateful to say most of that change has been positive. My business, Fine Lines Editing, quadrupled in size over the course of 2013, with several new clients and a wealth of new work, including my first published book.

The last year has been a truly transformative one. Our family went from having one parent working outside the home and one working part-time in the home to two parents with full-time jobs. I have been very fortunate to be able to remain home-based, which has given me the opportunity to spend every afternoon with the kids, and to be present as needed during their mornings with their (incredible) sitter (though honestly, when she is here, I am often chopped liver). But this change has meant a lot of work at night and on the weekends, which in turn has meant that for much of 2013, the rhythm of family life felt uneven, lurching from one day to the next as we tried to keep things as even-keeled as possible for the kids — an effort that was at times successful and at times a complete flop — and tried to master new roles and skills ourselves.

In the year that has passed since I was last here, our children have grown. I've always heard that parenting gets easier (perhaps temporarily?) when you start to have children age 5 and above, and from what I can see that rings with truth. Jonas has become a steady, helpful little guy who is just as smart and observant as ever, with that kind, gentle heart I so cherish. Yes, we call him Steve Jobs due to his uncompromising opinions and stringent standards, but he also keeps us honest, so those standards aren't all bad.

Silas came through the twos with a fair amount of grace, and while he still has the vestiges of toddlerhood about him — Silas, please pick up. Silas: Please! Pick! Up! ... Silas! ...Where is Silas? —he is becoming more aware of the larger world all the time and continues to show an uncanny awareness in the mechanics of life.

And Nida. What an incredible little person she is turning out to be. At 16 months and counting, we're already deep in the rebellion and chaos of the early toddler years, but one is no sooner astounded by her tenacity and bullheadedness, then impressed by her ability to understand everything around her. I mean, this kid has been accurately answering yes-or-no questions since she turned a year old. And let's not even talk about the fine motor skills. *shutter*

2013 was a year that showed us how fortunate we are. Look at these children. Look at this family we're  raising. Look at this incredible community in which we live, these marvelous people who support us and collaborate with us and cheer us on. I feel like we ran at 2013 with our arms flung open, full tilt, and it bear-hugged us right back.

Not every year is like that. We've had hard ones. 2009 (aka The Year of Murphy's Law) comes to mind. And there will be others. I'm also keenly aware that 2013 was full of difficulties and sorrow for several people that I love. The disparity in their experience of the year and mine is not lost on me. I am grateful — deeply, abidingly grateful —for the experience of the last year, and will do my best to remember it in years that are not as kind.

And here we stand, our shadows long across a new year. We have many plans. Our little homestead is ready for some evolution, and a greenhouse and beehives and expanded gardens are all on tap, with some side conversations about ducks and goats as well. After months of flirting with homeschool, it is time to get down to the work in earnest, and we are on the cusp of beginning that journey — wherever it might lead.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of 2014 is going to be refining the growth and promise of last year into a rhythm that better meets all our needs. There is a lot of discussion happening about that, too.

As with each year, I am hopeful I can make this space a part of my life. I find it difficult (unnatural?) to blog. My inner writer and editor are at such odds in this kind of a forum, and yet I recognize the opportunity this medium gives me to record, and to share, our journey. At this point in time, in these early days of the year, that is my hope.

Greetings 2014. Let's do this. Let's try.

First born

He seems so big these days, but sometimes I catch a glimpse of the baby I knew. He used to carry these animals with him everywhere.

12 weeks

This is my new baby, who is somehow now 12 weeks + 1 day old. Meaning that she is no longer a newborn; she is instead an infant, gaining velocity and knowledge every moment.

I have now shepherded three children from that magical existence in the womb through those delicate first weeks and into babyhood. And as much as I have tried to savor it, like pregnancy, the sharp memory of it quickly fades – no matter how you try to hang on.

And yet. That sadness, that melancholy, it is displaced every day by the smile. By getting to know this new person, which I could never do if she stayed a newborn. And so: I am thankful.

The glamour of the home-based office.

A good day

Some days just work out. The baby sleeps when she's supposed to; the boys don't fight too much. I'm able to feed everybody in relatively good time, and keep the house somewhat picked up. Those are good days, and when they happen I feel so much hope.

These are the days that make parenting seem possible, enjoyable, almost sane. It is these days that leave me to wanting to have 10 million babies. Luckily, they are balanced out by days that make an argument for the exact opposite.

The state of the kitchen table is usually a good indicator of the kind of day we've had here. So, today was a good day:

Zzz

Babies are each so different. It is often said, but even more often true. Jonas fell asleep in my arms, with his head resting on my shoulder, exactly one time when he was an infant. It is Nida's absolute preference. Not nursing. Not rocking. Not in a carrier or cradled in my arms.

This.

Familiar

When you first bring them home, newborns seem so delicate, new and unfamiliar. Today, I found myself holding her with ease, like an extension of my body.

Five and a half weeks after her birth she is 3 lbs 10 heavier and 2 1/2 inches longer. And she is becoming familiar. Still a mystery unfolding. But my mystery.