The Bridge

Well. We strode bravely across that bridge towards Working Mommaland, but it turns out there was a toll to pay on that bridge and it smelled horrendous.

Now, I don' t know if Buckaroo acquired this stomach bug from the daycare because he started, you know, showing the affects the very afternoon we came home from Day One. Who knows, maybe he got it from some door knob or grocery cart somewhere. Anyway, that was 4 nights ago and all of us here in this house are feeling like it is behind us, no pun intended. I seemed to have gotten thru it with the most dignity intact. Oiy. Now the neighbors have it. The other neighbors had it a couple of weeks ago. Etc etc.

So, 2 nights ago I was crying in the bathtub after my fellas were in bed, because I was exhausted and worried and discouraged and sick, and nothing adds up to derangement quicker than all that. What a bumpy start to my new beginning. And parenting a sick child whilst one's self is also sick...such a rotten system. I was given permission by my mother and sisters to watch whatever I wanted on tv regardless of my son's intellectual development. Basically, I let him play with wires and broken glass (when he wasn't filling his diaper) and I shuffled around or sat in front of the tv. [Watched "Death at a Funeral" which was hilarious. I even laughed.]

Today I feel much, much better. We're just trying to gather ourselves together and do a thing or two around the house this weekend before trying again.

Speaking of the house, Woodworker is building the most glorious banister for our scary stairway. Because they are steep, wooden, and take a sharp turn, these stairs are not for the tall nor the klutzy, which counts out everyone I'm related to. I've learned to walk down them very slowly. Soon I will have an actual handrail. Its all made of repurposed fir with dramatic knots and old black nail holes. Woodworker is so good at this stuff. Buckaroo has a love/hate relationship with these working scenes because he loves his father but he hates the sound of drills. We might just need to clear the premise for the rest of the project. Thank heavens we're feeling better.

Now, I will close with a beautiful image unrelated to this post, so you can forget you read about our family pooping:

The scene of our wedding before the guests arrived. Ahhnnnnn. Please note the teenie tiny disco ball hanging from the rafter. Word.

Yours in health and grateful for it,
nellie

First Day of School

Tomorrow I go back to work. The Year of Living Maternally came to an end. I am still shocked that we made it this far. There were so many weeks that sucked, what with fatigue and loneliness. Days where the idea of seeing Buckaroo's first birthday was unfathomable, like an ironman triathalon, accomplished by other people. And there were weeks where naps went well (for both of us) and walks were taken and cookies were made. And I paid attention with hyper-consciousness, to easy moments. Because its all temporary. And starting tomorrow I am a working mother. So, right now feels like the night before the first day of school. And my wee silly bit of love is about to start a new experience without me. Waaaaaaaaah.

This is all a very big deal. Buckaroo will go to a daycare and I will go to a brand new job. It is a miracle that I found a job, truly. I was hardly looking, unlike so many frustrated people. But it feels fated (not to jinx it, hello). I fully intended to spend a year at home with Mr. Sillypants regardless, and then see where things were. Then, maybe 3 weeks before Buckaroo's birthay, I got a call from a friend about this potential job. A few days later, I was meeting with the guy, and BAM before you know it, the deal was done within hours of Buckaroo's birthday. I am not making this up.

Then I turned to the preparations of the Extremely Important First Birthday Party. What a success. Its a whole other post, and then some. But after the dust from the party settled, it was time to find daycare. Time to do this change. And I don't know where the past couple of weeks have gone, but blogging certainly didn't occur. So much going on in my head and my heart, I suppose. It has been strange to be the mom inspecting daycares. Again, rather like I'm playing at something that other people do for real. I'm a mom?! That's my kid?! You'd think I'd have a strong sense of this by now.

We found a gal. She lives just a couple of miles away. She's very sweet and she absolutely dotes on the adorable kids in her care. Turns out the neighbor boys go there. We've been to visit a couple of times. Then Woodworker and I scratched our heads and listened to our instincts and signed some papers, and now we have a daycare. OMG holy shit. Can I do this? I know Buckaroo can do this. He loves to jump in the thick of things and chase bigger kids and yell-talk and poke babies in the eye. In fact, we chose daycare instead of at-home care because he's so outgoing (not my side of the family, I confess) (plus, a financial decision).

So tomorrow I start a new job. Its going to be hard but I know we can do it. Or maybe it won't be hard. Maybe it will be a little hard here and there, and otherwise good and fine. Hell yeah. Because, lemme tell you, my brain is so excited to go to work. I get to do stuff and make money. Only now I'm a momma and a worker. I will forever feel that division. Or, that "both". The mind-boggling, visceral desire to be with him and lovelovelove him. AND. The steady-on effort of work and personal development.

I have totally dropped the ball with communicating this excitement to my bff ladies out there. I'm sure all my lovers in Minneapolis and Chicago and Bozeman and NYC and SF and PC and Seattle and Denver and Moses Lake and Provo and Logan and IF and Bend and Orlando are happy to hear about this new development. (I must digress: it was really fun to type out all those cities and think about all my friends/relations/loved ones. Thank you! I recommend everyone do that.) And one of these days I'll get the whole digital photo situation back on track here, so I can fully report on the various parties and so forth.

But now it is time for bed. I've showered and am ready to read a few pages of my dorky book about the people's history of England. Buckaroo slumbers next door - at least for now. I pray for a good night's sleep. And tomorrow I cross that bridge. We cross that bridge. Though, the other day, when I was bemoaning the bridge to my mother, she reminded me that it is not a very big bridge over not a very big chasm because I am looking at a part-time job with flexible hours. Did I mention that? :)

I feel so blessed. Look at him, he's delicious and such a love. Just like his dadda. Even though they both drive me crazy. But I'm sure I make them crazy too.

Crossing the bridge.....xo
nellie