Archive for the ‘2012’ Category
It’s been a year since we sold the apartment. The one we brought two kids fresh from the womb back to, the one where I peed on many, many sticks and were thankfully lucky enough to see pink stripes on some of them. The one we returned to after our honey moon, the one we did ourselves from scratch, the one where my husband proposed, the one, the one, the one.
We have lived temporarily and crazily expensive since December last year. We gave ourselves six months, but we’re still there and still undecided as to whether we should stay in the city or move out. We’ve seen houses and apartments, and we’ve tried to decide, but nothing has given us the feeling of home and “let’s settle here”.
The girl turned six in June and began school in August. When I started this blog, she wasn’t a thing. She was something I hoped for. The boy has begun kindergarten – the same as his sister went to – and I love that place and I have a hard time accepting that he might not be able to stay, but is that enough reason to stay in the city rather than to move out?
There are so many questions, so many things we need to decide. And I’m tired of walking around with the feeling of not being able to settle, of not having a home that’s mine, of being in-between.
I’ve given myself so many deadlines this past year, so when I say that I hope we know where we’re going by the end of the year it’s not a deadline, it’s a hope …
It’s time to say my farewell, to write the last words and get on with it (whatever that is).
This began because I wanted a baby. Everyone else around us were having babies, but we weren’t. Five years ago I wanted a great 2008, but all I really wanted was a baby. I got one and I thought I could continue to write, but five years and another baby on, I have to admit that I can’t.
The thing is that since having that baby, most of my life has centered around her. I love that and wouldn’t want it any other way. The problem, however, is that the part of my life that doesn’t center around her, centers around a shitty job, around people who doesn’t believe in me. I am no fun to be around – in person or in writing.
I want a great 2013, I really do, but I am having trouble believing in it and what I really don’t want is to document not getting it. My diary will be more than enough proof of that.
So I am signing off. These are my very last words. I wish I could have ended this on a high note, but at least I am ending it now before I go even further down the road of misery.
I’m trying to figure out what I want from 2013, but I don’t know. A little bit of peace would be nice, so would recognition. For a while I thought a new job would help, but I am no longer so sure.
One thing hasn’t changed since back in 2008: I am still hoping for a great year, I am just choosing to do so in silence.
Thank you if you read and all the best.
I guess two children, a marriage and a mortgage are all “adult things”. I guess I am no longer to escape the fact that I am an adult who does adult things, but even so 2013 is looming and I have a feeling it’s going to be a year of adult things.
- We need to sell the apartment. Four people in the bedroom is cozy at times and difficult at times so we need to sell this place.
- We need to buy another place – preferably a house. I know we bought an apartment 7 years ago and with that came mortgage and responsibilities and all that, but this step feels HUGE. We need to find a house, one that we can live in for a long time, and by choosing that house we’ll be choosing schools for our children. We will most likely be purchasing their “childhood home”, the one they will remember when they have kids themselves one day.
- I need to find another job. I have been in my current position for 5 years. It has had ups and downs, but it has been mainly downs the past couple of years and it’s time to see if I can find something else. I worry because last time I applied for a job I was just out of university and it was kind of okay to not know it all, but now I need to see myself as someone with 5 years of experience and it’s no longer okay to not know things. This freaks me out
- We need to figure out how to be a family of four. We need to make it work with two working parents and two kids in daycare and kindergarten. We need to cook meals and do laundry and we need to do things on the weekends that make us feel like a family. I can’t see how we can fit it all in, I just can’t…
- We need to buy a car. We can no longer rely on borrowing my parents’ second car and we can’t live without one, so we have to buy one. I know this is a small step to some, but to me it’s a big one.
I think I hit bottom. At least I hope I did, because “up” is so far away, I can’t see the light. If it is not the bottom, I hope that what’s left before I hit it will be short – I know not to expect sweet.
I think I hit bottom. I think because I want to return to surface. The want to return to surface always happens when my feet find something to land on – the bottom – even though it can be rocky or tiny or covered in mud so I can’t see it. But hitting the bottom is finding somewhere to take off in order to return to surface.
I think I hit bottom. I look at my children, I look at how I am around them and I think to myself that if it gets any worse, if I am less of a mother, less of an institution of endless love and understanding, I shouldn’t be around at all. “I don’t like it when you yell, mum” my daughter tells me, but the answer to why I do it (I hit bottom), will not satisfy her, will not do. That answer will not make her home grounds safe enough for her to explore the world and not be afraid to step out into it. That answer will not make her confide in me or let me help her or even let me hold her hand and tuck her in when she wants her pacifier and I have to tell her that it’s gone.
I think I hit bottom. I look at my husband and I wonder what life was like when I wanted to kiss him first thing when he got home in the afternoon, when love was in the air even though the kids were screaming and dinner wasn’t ready. I look at my husband and I long for the times when the look of the two of us never left anyone in doubt of why we married, why we had kids, why we are meant to be. Because we are. We are. Meant to be.
I think I hit bottom. And I think it’s time to get away from there. To reach out to those who are already reaching out to me, to love those who are already loving me, to not care about a burnt dinner or a new job that doesn’t come, to respect myself and the life I – nobody else – chose. I think it’s time.
It’s November and it’s Friday. The boy is sleeping. We are going out later, but for now he’s sleeping and I have indulged in decent breakfast, tea and the paper.
It’s November already. In less than three months I go back to work. I can’t believe it. I was naive and wanted to do so many things, but I guess I got ’round to doing the most important: taking care of my boy.
It’s November. The past six weeks have been rough. I spent three weekends with the kids at my parents’ house because J was either away from home or painting the apartment (we have to sell at some point, the bedroom is way too crowded). We don’t see much of each other and when we do we need to figure out how to make everyday life work. Last weekend we drove to the other end of the country to celebrate J’s father’s 70th birthday, this weekend we’re going to celebrate my mother and the weekend after that we’re going to some family thing with J’s family. I’ll excuse for the lack of enthusiasm, but what I really need is some time with my family – MY family. The man I chose, the children I birthed. Not everyone else. We’re spending Christmas with J’s parents this year and I must admit that I quite often find myself wishing we were spending Christmas at home just the four of us. I don’t need lots of people at the moment, I need only three. And I know that I will be cranky when asked to share my kids, to not act like a family, to sit back and watch hands in my lap, but there you go.
It’s November. I need to start looking for a new job. It’s fine that I have the old one to return to, but I really need to find something new. I need a boost of energy work wise and I doubt I will find that unless I find something else to do. The road is rocky and the times are tough. I know, I know, but I have to try. My main goal for 2013 is to find a new job.
It’s November. It’s cold and I’m nursing a cold. The leaves are falling off the trees and the dark tightens its grip around the day.
It’s November. We drink hot chocolate and eat apples. The girl is happy, the boy is too. They interact with each other. She loves that he wants to squirm his way everywhere she goes, and she loves that he wants to lie at the foot of her chair, while she’s eating. He loves to eat when she’s eating and he loves to just watch her. She constantly whispers “I love you little brother” and “you’re my best friend”, and she kisses him – even if rather often a bit too rough. I pray that they will continue to love each other, to want each other, even though their relationship will change through the years.
It’s November and my mood isn’t always the best, but there are many things to be thankful for and I am so grateful for having them.
The boy and I went for a walk today. He slept and I drank my coffee and ate my sweat treat and took some pictures. Two years ago we were in New England preparing for the road trip of a lifetime watching the autumn in all its colours. Today’s sunshine and colours reminded me a little of that trip. It was a great one.
Six months ago I gave birth to a giant baby, I became a mother of two.
Today he eats mashed food, he squirms around often making unhappy noises because he can’t crawl just yet, but wants to. He has slept through the night – and has stopped again. He is in size four diapers and he looks at me and smiles when I say “milk”. He thinks his sister is the best thing in the world – and her duplo the second best.
I can’t believe it. Six months. That’s half way through year 1. Six months – where did they go?