getting deep

Nothing get's me fired up like reading comments on articles by people who are fully and completely…. well, dumb. Or rather, so ignorant they sound like complete heartless idiots.

I'd like to suggest a few things to the person who posted the following comment in regards to an article about GMO foods. (And add: Does it make you nervous that most of Western Europe has banned them? It should.)

S/he took 'it' to a whole new level. I have not edited it in any way, just left it in its ridiculous original state. The grammar alone makes me cringe:

"Has any of the hysterical crises of the Leftists ever come true For example there is; Nuclear Winter, Global Cooling, Global Warming, Heterosexual AIDS outbreaks, population bomb, food shortages, clean water shortages, Acid Rain, Brazilian deforestation, America 2 feet deep in disposable diapers. And those are what I can think of in the first 30 seconds. You know you are facing another made-up crisis when the only solution the Left can think of for fixing the crisis is more government, more income redistribution, less freedom and protests with large paper mache puppets."

It rankles! And my reply which I would have loved to share with the person, but didn't because does it change anything? Probably not.

First: Just because you have access to fresh water and food doesn't mean millions (yes, millions) of people in the world are living without. Step across our Southern border, or try getting on a plane sometime and you'll find that there are more people living without clean water and plentiful food than there are people WITH. Even better, head over to the other side of your pretty town where it's not so pretty.

Second: AIDS is still a huge problem, and mainly in the heterosexual communities of the world, particularly on the continent of Africa. Infection is rising at an alarming rate. Just because we managed to create awareness in the US and helped to avoid a longer-term epidemic doesn't erase the fact that it exists elsewhere.

Third and final: Deforestation is still a major problem all over the world and especially where there have been "population bombs".

If you've been lucky enough to live untouched by poverty, hunger, disease, or any awareness that these things exist outside of your tiny bubble… It breaks my heart a little because you have no compassion for the many souls whose lives are affected by these things every day.

Pause rant. Breathe.

It's true though: We don't live in 2 feet of disposable diapers. Not right here, but head down to your local waste disposal site and you'll find them. And it's more than two feet deep.

photo: City Clerk, Seattle 1954

soaking it up

We're expecting our first tiny human in June and I know I can't begin to fathom what that love will feel like, what that little sleep will feel like, and of course I struggle with the fear "What kind of mother will I be?"

I know I've got the love, but what about the patience and the survival instinct to live through the exhaustion? I'm no spring chicken (I'm no chicken at all). I'm not exactly ancient, but I'm not 22 when I used to sleep only a couple of hours a night and still have a productive day.

It's easy to get overwhelmed. By reading options, by the future, by life. Even by the Pup who suddenly needs a whole lot of attention (or the same amount as last week but it feeeeeels like so much more).
I have been reading everything I can get my hands on, and most of it has nothing in common with anything else. But I'm trying to soak it all up, absorb knowledge through every pore.

I jump from page to page, the internet spreading out before me offering information on every possible subject. I have found myself pondering computer-generated photos of tiny animals in the womb, an Iraqi orphan curled up on a chalk outline of her mother (I am skeptical that she drew it herself, but it's awfully sweet), a friend's blog with beautiful photos of life with new baby and a two year old. And then I realize all of my random web surfing all does sort of relate. Tinies in one form or another; new to the world, new to us. There's so much to learn! So much to read!

I think it's a bit like trying to take in the whole picture instead of focusing on the little moments that make up a day. I am reading a book called Momma Zen, and I have decided I would like to view things like the author does: Don't have expectations. Or if you do, know that anything and everything can change and you have to roll with that, too. And it is exactly how it should be.

In the last few days I have felt something in there - little movements that I have to focus on to feel and even then they are elusive. We heard a heartbeat on the doppler, we saw a little being on the ultrasound. This is happening.

It's not as we expected (much sooner, much easier) but it's been perfect in it's surprising little way. Excitement, nervousness, wonder, and a sort of foggy bliss that we ride in waves. So much to prepare. So much to be thankful for. And so much to love.



photo courtesy of houseandleisure.co.za

back

It's official: I did not make time to write while renovations were underway. And by were, I mean Are. Here we are creeping up on one year and we are still working on stair railings, baseboards, toe kicks, exterior painting (gotta wait out the rain on that one) and.... the list goes on.
But! I did have a moment a few weeks ago when I looked around at all we have accomplished and thought, "Oh my goodness, this is becoming my dream home." The afternoon light was floating through the windows, we had just installed our concrete counters (which took weeks to build forms, pour, perfect, sand, polish, seal, wax) and here I was walking around this beautiful little house with really only finishing touches remaining.

I can't quite see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think we both see all of the things awaiting our attention. Some days I just cook and clean and do normal "life stuff" and pretend nothing else exists (like painting, sanding, excavating, digging, planting). It's fun to play house as if life were just work, walks with Pup, dinner, sleep, work, weekends. Like how they used to be in my imaginary Less Stressful Life.
I admit I prefer to reframe my history as a very smooth transition from one calm moment to another. It feels nice to think that life will become calm again and I will feel like my navigational skills are working and my head isn't too full for paying attention during a conversation or getting creative with new recipes (did someone say: "Pick three meals and rotate them for a year. It's a good idea!"!?).

It's not about bean tostadas vs vegetables and rice or pasta sauce with polenta. It's not about three straight months of canned soup heated up in the microwave (when the only kitchen we had was on top of the dryer in the basement, and the only shower was the laundry sink - also in the basement). It's about remembering 12+ hour days seven days a week for six months followed by just seven days a week as a really fun, lively adventure filled with laughs and silliness.

It's not like anyone got hurt....

Oh, except when we moved the counters those last two inches and I crushed the side of my hand, had a vasovagal response (seriously, look it up) which ended with me passing out and falling against a wall which resulted in whiplash and searing pain in my back.

So, I'm back. And my back hurts. But at least our counters are beautiful and I love our kitchen and I cannot believe that at the end of all of this we will have this beautiful little home together. Every detail represents hours of thought and discussion, compromise and careful intention. We created a place we think we will like in the future, love right now, and there's no going back. We're almost there.

to wreck, and then...

Today's quote from last week since I wrote this a week ago and didn't have time to click "post":

"Thank you for not leaving me when I was intolerable." 

It works for almost every scenario, including remodels with the one you love and the sort of exhaustion that only intense, months-long renovations can incur.

We're not out of the woods, yet. We've barely got walls, let alone floors, sinks, toilets or a shower. We do have windows, and the drywall is up. We're working on ductwork and someone else is working on mudding, taping, sanding and priming. And it's only a few days before we move in. I think we'll be sleeping in a corner of the basement and showering at the gym. 

It's like one of those funny stories from college, except that we're not in college. We're working professionals who have to shower and dress for work Monday through Friday and walk the dog twice a day. We're more than tired and it's not summer and it's soaking wet outside. We're worried about the basement flooding, the exposed insulation, and the fact that we haven't put gutters on the eaves.

At least there's heat and we can always pull out the camp stove (if we had time to cook). I keep reminding myself it will all be over soon and our little house will be a home. I'll have time to read and make things (like dinner), and visit with friends and regale them with stories about this one time with the ladder and almost falling backward down the stairs. Either that, or I'll just point toward [what will be] the beautiful kitchen and say, "We chose that."

In the meantime, I'll enjoy my last few days in a rental where someone else is responsible for when the roof leaks and when we need a new washer. (Psssssst: Babe-eh-loo: We need a washer and dryer.)


One week later:

It's freezing outside (almost literally) but dry. The ductwork is done, the drywall has been mudded, taped, sanded and primed. We packed and stored all of our stuff over the weekend and our cabinets were delivered today. Which means we should probably order our counter tops. And probably the tile for the bathroom.

We bought a new washer and dryer. And a refrigerator, stove, microwave, and dishwasher but we haven't installed a toilet. It's not even close to done, but it's closer than it was last week. And that is all we can hope for, really.

check out schoolhouse electric because it's fun

and restoration hardware these days is amazing.

the deep

I thought, "Sure, I'll post updates weekly as we renovate. We can share before and after and during photos and laugh and hang out and chat about our remodel adventure."

That was before, when we had free time and friends. When we cooked at home and vacuumed. When we could find time for movies and reading, laundry and grocery shopping.

Now we're nearly five months in, demolition is over, we've excavated and resealed the foundation (nearly done with backfilling). We're in the midst of wiring outlets and lights. I insulated the water pipes over the weekend, we have a new porch. And we haven't seen our friends in months (not totally literally, but just about literally). One friend even said, "Oh no, you don't understand. You won't see them [meaning us] unless you go to The House to see them." And they're right. We're completely consumed. Every detail needs a decision, a measurement, a product ordered.

There's no time for photos, for updates, for reminiscing or pondering just where that pretty painting will go. There are only decisions and labor. Manual labor. I remember the day I said, "That's the one thing I don't do: Dig." One week later I was covered in dirt, my hands had actual digging callouses, and I had sealing tar in my hair as I sat at the bottom of a 6 foot trench wrapping a footing drain.

Adam told the neighbors as they walked by, "We're building a moat!"

We are exhausted. Working 15+ hours a day, seven days a week, and it has been months now. Everyone (I mean it) says, "Oh, I know, it's hard but it's totally worth it, right?" And we smile and say, "Yes yes yes" whilst growling inside and wondering when the end result will happen. We're not to the "It was hard, but it was totally worth it" zone. It's just hard, and stressful, and we have no idea if what we've conceived as the perfect, adorable, cozy, inviting place will be what we pictured as Home.

But really, we love it. The house will be wonderful. It will be ours, exactly as we designed it after 37+ floor plans and countless revisions and questions.

This took me two days to write, and I'm sorry but there are no photos of the house. Just a photo of us in Scotland in August, when we had a full week to ourselves poking around in castles. Before we were in so deep. Before I became a champion digger. Or at least before I picked up a shovel.

even when

Sometimes it's hard to be cute. Not everyone has the ability to say things that are totally delightful or can walk around blinking like a baby owl (as you know: the epitome of cuteness). I like the ones who surprise you and catch you off guard. Like the little guy in the middle on the far right. He's pretty cute. And oops! Looks totally surprised; just trying to look like a Panda.

I am not cute today. I woke up before Mister Important made the Earth (like, very early) and didn't bother to shower. I did shower last night, but that only meant my hair looked nice before I went to bed. Once I slept on it (partially wet as it was) it looked a little awkward.

We have a mirror by the door to our office and it's job is pretty simple: To mock you each time you walk by and make snide remarks like, "Oh, what, woke up early today?" And, "You look tired."

Which, by the way, is a terrible thing to say to somebody. I try and pre-empt it with over-zealous protective commentaries about myself looking tired. "I know, I look totally awful. " Or, "Ugh, I feel like a zombie, and probably look like one, too." It's not like I'm fishing for compliments or that I have a low self esteem. I just don't want someone to tell me I look tired. Even when I look really really tired.

what the world is made of

Here are some words from a mother who's teenage daughter had a major stroke recently. I keep reading them with awe at her sense of gratefulness in response to something that most of us would tremble to even think about. If I can take anything from this, it is the aspiration to step into life with this sense of grace and appreciation. As a wise friend said, "The greatest part of our happiness depends on our dispositions, not our circumstances."

I wish I could spin my moments of unhappiness into something so beautiful. The least I can do is wonder at a mother who is watching her child relearn everything she once knew, from language to walking and hopefully one day to singing and dancing. The most I can do is learn to reframe the not-so-special times into something I can learn from, and hopefully look upon those times as a gift. If not, there's always a chance to laugh at my own silliness.

"Between watching this beautiful and amazing creature courageously rebuild her body and her vocabulary, and these people I have called my best friends for decades move heaven and earth to help her, I am quite overcome most of the day, everyday. I feel as if someone said, "Sit. Watch. This is what the world is really made of. There's more beauty and love and joy here than you could possibly imagine. Remember this and nothing that could ever happen will shake you again." I am forever changed."
                                              -m.b.q.




[photo courtesy of lavender and dash]