23 October 2009

new season.

the clock is ticking. my belly button has lost all its subtlety. i can no longer put on my own socks. something tells me that very soon we will be a family of four. 

here i am, in full-blown nesting mode, lamenting our lack of matching coffee cups and wishing i could paint the hardwood floors a glossy white. i'm navigating a tightrope between needing everything to be immaculate, and throwing my hands in the air, letting it all go in favor of a nap and chocolate cookies.

these are challenging days, i'll admit. we've seen as much of the airport as our own driveway these past few months, with all of jeremy's departures and arrivals. almost every thursday evening on cue, i pull out the ironing board and press the same three to four shirts for his tired black suitcase while he packs up CDs in the office. this weekend he's in ireland drinking boatloads of tea (and probably some Guinness) in between performances. i am secretly hoping he'll bring me back a scarf, but i'd be equally happy with a gigantic hug and time alone to take a bath.

meanwhile, i attempt to gather a moment of composure while Eli pouts in the time-out chair. we've entered each morning with at least one crying fit before coffee, and then another when it's time to get dressed. more erupt throughout the day for various reasons, like my limiting him to just one cupcake and not allowing him to drive the car. yesterday, i kept him from climbing on the bathroom counter to investigate the blades of his father's beard-trimmer so he pulled my hair and growled at me. he misses his daddy and is growing impatient with this routine of saying hello and saying goodbye. i try to be patient, consistent, and firm, while also understanding and sympathetic of his two-year-old perspective on life and its cruelties. plus, he's adorable, so that helps his case dramatically.

lately, i'm barely keeping up. i've slacked on everything from thank you notes to projects to mopping the kitchen floor. these days, in moments, feel unbearably exhausting. sometimes i wish i was a chipmunk and could hibernate under the covers until it's time to give birth and all the swine flu has left the galaxy.

but then again, there's meaningful work to be done: like savoring the last precious moments of time with Eli before the baby comes to scoop up my attention. i'm also trying, with all i can muster, to be supportive of my road-weary husband who i know would rather be home if given the choice. he works harder than anyone i know, especially now. i would love to make him a fabulous roast chicken with rosemary and be cheerful and beautiful and slightly less reliant. lately, i'm doing well to pour jarred spaghetti sauce over soggy noodles. i am miserable with heartburn and achy legs and hair that needs combing. i know he deserves better (like U2 tickets), but i'm like the woman in that Suave commercial with everything in the world tugging at her until a bottle of shampoo comes along to put things right. 

there's also doctor's appointments, finishing the nursery, sorting through old baby clothes in search of onesies that can be worn again. at some point, i'd really like to paint my toenails too, if only i could reach them.

despite all of this, every day we grow more and more excited for our baby girl's arrival. we've almost settled completely on her name, but we're not telling yet. i suspect that it suits her well. the bed in her room is covered with stacks of tiny clothes in every shade of pink: little bitty socks and hair bows and ruffled pastel pants all sitting in anxious wait.

Eli started preschool in September. he goes twice a week and loves it. of course, he insists on carrying his own backpack, even though it comes down to the back of his knees and makes him walk awkwardly and weavingly, like a hunchback who has had too much to drink.

obviously, i haven't had much time for art or writing. i did sell all three of my "tomato art" pieces this summer, much to my surprise. i had kind of forgotten they'd been at the gallery since august, until one day this month when a check arrived in the mail out of the blue. good encouragement for picking up a paintbrush again sometime this spring when the flowers come out and the baby, maybe, naps.

i would like to resume blogging with better consistency also. i think there will be more to say in the coming months when my brain becomes less foggy. for now, i splash cold water on my face throughout the afternoon, enjoy the breathtaking colors of autumn out our new living room windows, and hold on tight for this new season: for all the wonder, chaos, sleeplessness, and beauty it's bound to bring.