You know, I don’t know when it actually becomes too hot to even be summer, but for me, if I find myself with the urge to jump in the shower for the second time in a day just to feel the sweet release of death to feel something other than humidity on my skin, then I know it is too hot.
Right now, Louis and I are recovering from a double feature trip to Virginia. The first trip was planned – a nice long one, because when you haven’t really hung out with your family for a year, 3 weeks of constant contact is always better than single week visits scattered throughout the months…at least in my mind. That way, both sides have ample time to become reacquainted with each other’s quirks and the feeling of pining for your own bed will (presumably) overshadow the crushing homesickness you feel when you leave. Spoiler, it doesn’t quite work that way. The second trip was hilariously unexpected, and the husband and I ended up renting a car and driving there and back (as opposed to taking the train there as we usually do). There was a lot of sniffling and soreness on my part, and I’m pretty sure I found a leech or a beetle of sorts in my pistachio bag. I count it a triumph that I did not break down and cry over that as well, but I also can’t eat pistachios again without therapy.
We’ve been back for a week now, and I’ve finally bullied our poor luggage-strewn apartment into remembering how it feels to be a home. Now for the hard work: getting used to the idea of being a family of 3, more jobhunting and uncertainty, and finding some semblance of a creative schedule again.
To be honest, I’m feeling highly uninspired. Most of my writing has been in the form of mou
rning pages (and obsessive list making), and I’m lucky if I can do those every day, let alone edit them. Same issue with drawing and painting. I think all of my usual creative energy has been focused on cleaning. every. damn. thing. in. sight. …And trying to get away with not wearing this contraption
. Thankfully, husband recognized my slow decline and saved the day by indulging my need for control
moving all of my workspace furniture while I pointed, picking up double chocolate cookies from a local bakery, and making me take the next day completely to myself. I mean, it wasn’t as good as my plan, which was to lay in bed sobbing into a used copy of Brain Rules for Baby
while drinking large amounts of milk chocolate and frantically waiting for my offspring to kick random organs. But you know…his idea was good too.
You never really realize how different you and your husband are until you have to rearrange a tiny apartment on a budget in the heat of the summer during your third trimester. You see, the issue is that we have 2 different cleaning speeds that are directly opposed to one another, regardless of our mutual desire to prepare a place for our firstborn. Him:slow and steady with frequent breaks, and no deep cleaning or throwing stuff out unless absolutely necessary. Cannot fathom the need to change so much in one day. Also called the “we have time method”. Me: move all the furniture in one day and deal with the cleaning after. Throw most things out. Cannot fathom starting to clean then stopping abruptly. Heavily pregnant and in need of a neat house. Also called “the frustrated nester.” You could say that we balance each other out…
Relient K’s new album (pretty much a given that I was going to love it). This youtube channel (oh Studio C, you continue to amuse me long after the drudgery of the first trimester). This fashion blog. Aussie bloggers always make me pine for Autumn during this time of year. This blog post on fear and worry after having a baby (a huge comfort to me since I generally wake up in the morning freaking out that I’m not prepared.) This article on washing away the creeping feeling of doom that we’ve all had lately after reading the news with a shower and The Beatles (I can see my sister nodding her head). And finally, my favorite quotation of the month (this is part of a much larger quotation I love, but this part…this part.):
“A great many people do now seem think that the mere state of being worried is in itself meritorious. I don’t think it is. We must, if it so happens, give our lives for others: but even while we’re doing it, I think we’re meant to enjoy Our Lord and, in Him, our friends, our food, our sleep, your jokes, and the birds’ song and the frosty sunrise.” – C.S. Lewis
This looks deceptively cool and refreshing, but it was actually quite warm and humid at the rapids that day.
A visual example of how how my pregnancy feels right now.
My sister and RVA are pretty gorgeous.
Sweet Lucy didn’t want us Louis to leave.
Linking up with Kelly
of This Ain’t the Lyceum