Home.

I grew up with a very real sense of national patriotism. Not of the Canadian variety, either. With an immigrant for a father words like home and family often meant a place and people thousands of miles of blue water away. No one I knew grew up like this. It was completely normal and completely strange at the same time. 

Hearing strains of different languages every Sunday when Dad called any number of aunts and uncles and cousins was comforting and special and often produced the oddest looks from friends that may have happened to be visiting during these calls. (Truth be told, I think it still throws the husband a little bit and he's been coming over for the last 14 years.) I don't think I have ever eaten a turkey for Christmas dinner, opting instead for traditional pork (with rinds) and candied potatoes and rice pudding for dessert. I have never opened gifts on Christmas morning. Until I got married no one ever pronounced my last name properly. I am forever ruined for North American made candy. I have an unnatural love for rye bread smothered in mackeral in red sauce and mayo. Sandwiches are always better open faced. I have an appreciation for teak that runs so deep it can only be genetically based. I think this heritage also would explain my love for all things mid-century modern because really does anyone do it better than the Scandinavians? Didn't think so. I can't even tell you how many times I've mourned the loss of the free education, extended vacation time, unreal healthcare, pension, insurance... and on and on it goes. The highest taxes in the world seem a small price to pay, right? Ah, maybe not, but it just sounds so good.  And while my dad never taught us his language (for my thoroughly Canadian mom's sake)I think it's one of his biggest parenting regrets. 

Until we were grown it was never an option for the whole family to make a pilgrimage 'home' but in 3 days time the only remaining one of us to not make the journey will get to. In fact everyone but me and my own little family will be there together in just hours. And it makes me sad. For a time we thought the trip would be possible, even with our meager new budget. Alas it wasn't meant to be and with good reason because as life unfolded in front of us and a baby came into being we realized it just wouldn't have worked. 

Or it would have. But just like it did the last time. With me in a foreign bed, throwing up foreign food, while the husband explored on his own. 'Home' didn't feel so much like home then. Saskatchewan seemed liked Utopia for the agonizing few days that 5 week holiday actually lasted.  And even though I can see all of the blessing's God's given us weave back to that trip and our early marriage I would never willingly go through that again. So while I wish I could make the trip... I am content to stay here, with the people who really make me feel at home, and wish bon voyage to the rest of them. 

Don't forget to bring me some candy. The orange ones are my favorite. 

the list

I have lofty goals for the making that is to be done in preparation for our little birdie and not so lofty energy levels, so in an effort to simplify the process and keep my brain from exploding I introduce:


The List.
Separated neatly into the following categories:
The Have-to's.
The Would-be-nice's.
The Dream-on you sweaty, swollen, puking mama's.


The Have To's: 

• Diapers (10 done out of 36 in total)
• Wipes
• Crib Sheets
• Change Pad cover 
• Crib Bumper (I know, I know... unsafe you irresponsible mama, but after seeing this little yellow beauty I couldn't resist and a steal of a deal on some yellow striped (which reminded me of this wedding that ultimately provided the whole color palate of the room, er... corner) and linen fabric at Value Village told me it was meant to be... even if it's just for a picture or two when it all finally comes together. Plus, it's done already. Sue me) 
• a pair or two of these sweet little shoes (I guess not really a have to but I already bought the pattern and to not use it now really would be a shame)
• Find, buy, and paint a secondhand dresser to double as a change table.
• A wet bag.

The Would Be Nice's:

• Birdies for a mobile something like this. I figure I need 10... Three are sewn. Two are stuffed and blindstitched. I hate blindstitching. 
• Some little jersey and bamboo wool hats. Our kids never fit the standard baby head size, so handmade it must be. 
• Artwork for the corner. There are some ideas mulling around in my head but my skills in execution when it comes to computer illustrations are iffy. We'll see how keen the husband is to help.

The Dream On's:

• A stack of smocks à la angry chicken. My dream would be a little girlie who wears a daily uniform of onsies, leggings, and smocks. She will need more than the one sitting half finished in a pile that was intended to be a present for another little girl months ago. All that bias tape and those tiny little arm holes plant this one firmly in the dream on category. 
• A stack of bibs. Again, the thought of repeatedly preforming the 'right sides together, turn, press, topstitch' thing just isn't all that appealing. 
• A mommy made quilt. Seeing as I've only made one quilt before and it was less than stellar I will leave this for a time with more patience and more bend in my body.

I know there is more, but for now this is where is stays... a start anyway. 

the view from here

Not even the third trimester and my toes are no longer visible. Ack. Slow down little Wren... all day sickness, all pregnancy long and too stretched out stretch marks are too much for one mama to handle. 

trampoline-ing

Does it get any better than a sprinkler, under a trampoline, in Grandma's backyard, on the hottest day of summer yet?

Obviously not.

Oh, and while we are on the subject of trampolines... Should I feel hurt that while I begged for years for a trampoline and never got one, my children now have one sitting in MY old backyard for the once-every-few-months visits they take to Grandma and Grandpa's? 

Seriously, if there is a pool dug the next time we visit I may need therapy.

breakfast in bed

Yes. That is my half eaten cheesecake... in my bed... at 10:00 this morning. 
The bear, however, does not belong to me.  

In retrospect this has been a pretty depressing, dour blog lately. 

I am not really sorry for this because it's been true. 

I am not really sorry for this because I think our journeys go over mountains and through valleys, and while this valley has been long and still stretches out in front of me farther than I would like it to, it's still the one I have to walk. 

I am not sorry for this because I think we need to feel what we are feeling, not wallow in it unnecessarily, but feel it nonetheless. 

I am not sorry for this because it's my story and someday I know that Aslan will tell me why he clawed at me and it will all make sense. (If that reference is lost on you, you must - MUST - read this book, whether you're into Narnia or not.)

These days things are looking up though and I would be remiss to only document the bad bits. Never in pregnancy have I been this early on and had this many 'no vomit' days. I am grateful for this. It makes the days I do get sick harder, but it allows for pinpricks of light the rest of the time. I would say there have even been moments of excitement. It's a little disorienting to go from depression to health. Almost like I've been so sad for so long that health and happiness have become the weird and foreign. But they are there in whatever small amount they may come and we are all feeling the thrill of hope starting to bubble below the surface. I still feel anxious and overwhelmed, but now there is peace in the midst of it too.  

homesick

It's summertime at home right now and we aren't there. 


We won't get to sit in the shady back alley by our favorite ice cream stand and let our kids run like idiots getting in everyone's way.
We won't go to the folk festival.
We won't go for cheap Indian food or honey soaked loukoumades at Mosaic.
We won't walk around the lake or take picnics by the water.
We won't make it to the outdoor market after having a fancy breakfast at the fancy hotel across the street from said market.
We won't go to our favorite bakery for cookies.
We won't drive to our hometown on a whim because we heard they were having a weiner roast for supper that night. 
We won't have our own backyard campfires.
We won't wash our car outside in the heat in our own driveway.
We won't plant a garden. Or add to the meager front yard landscaping we started last year. 


Sure, we could do one or two of those things here. 
We have found a bakery, but the truth is, I don't really like cupcakes all that much and that's all they sell.  
I'm sure there is an ice cream joint here we could get really good ice cream at... 
There is a lake we could walk by and take picnics at... 
And there is a farmer's market that is huge, but it's indoors and air conditioned and there removes half the fun of a summer day at the market...


I know we are still together and in that way I know we still possess all we need to make anyplace home, but for the first time in my life I feel really homesick for a location. For our old house, our old city, our old places. Hormones may be to blame, Lord knows they are pulsing through body at unprecedented levels, but I don't know. 
I really loved my home. 
I find some comfort in the fact that we have always planned to go back, but I wish there was no sacrifice involved in the mean time. I feel tired of sacrificing. The last few months feel like they've consisted of nothing but sacrifice and now I just want to go home. 

post

i just re-read some old posts.


this one in particular is laughable right now.


Sometime between the writing of that and the days before finding the digital 'pregnant' on the pregnancy test, my mind was most definitely made up.


I did not want another baby. Yes. My decision was made.


Too bad it wasn't mine to make.


I think I have come to terms with the fact that this baby isn't going anywhere. The kicks and flutterings are undeniable now. I am at once thrilled by this fact and terribly, terribly sad. This is not what I had in mind for this year, but slowly I am remembering that the boy wasn't what I had in mind for our first year either. Slowly I am remembering that we had the girl in mind long before we actually got her. Slowly I am remembering that the timing has never been what we had in mind. But it has always been better.


Much, much better.

dear david,

I told myself that if I could just make it the show I probably wouldn't die after all. The concert was hot and cramped and sweaty and I was nauseous, but it was just what I needed to celebrate the fact that it's all downhill from here. Sharing this little... ok very, very HUGE milestone with you (and the husband, of course) was perfect. I would love to come and see you and Ray, alas, the belly isn't getting any smaller and the bank account is, so for now this is goodbye. Next time I see you, the three (three!?) little ones will be in tow. There is a promise to be kept to a certain little fan and I can't wait to keep it.


Sincerely,
Sarah

there is a baby growing inside of me

and I don't want to talk about it.


Someday I'm sure this will all turn out well, but for now I am having a hard time seeing past all the puking, the anxiety, the depression, the aches, the pains, the fear, the tiredness...


Not what I was expecting this year. I wish it was next year. Or twenty from now. Anything but the right now that doesn't seem to be going away.