Grey

It has been so grey here. After our late lunch Friday afternoon, out on the porch in the sunlight, the sun disappeared and still has yet to be seen. Sadly, our home is already quite dark, with a large live oak shielding the front yard from much natural light. But when the sun doesn't shine, we end up using the lamp in the living room during the day. It's downright depressing.

I don't know how I ever survived the winters in New York. The sun rarely shines and often people end up with seasonal affective disorder because they don't get enough vitamin D from the sun. After four years here, the lack of sunlight has a grave effect on my interior life -- when the sun doesn't shine, I want to pull the covers over my head and hide all day. Surely I'm not the only one.

I tried to make the best of it this weekend. I sewed, knitted, started a very good book (On Beauty by Zadie Smith), did quite a bit of laundry, and baked. Adam was working on Saturday and ended up with an overtime shift on Sunday, so most of my weekend was spent with the little girl. It didn't take me long to realize, though, that even with Lily there, I had spent too much time alone in a dark house and in my head. Not a good place to be.

Today is better, though it's still grey. Adam is home, and we spent the morning perusing (and purchasing) books for Lily at the bookstore before heading to the library for free books. On our return home, we found a package from my mom filled with pumpkin spice coffee, a stuffed reindeer, and baby-sized mittens. Surprise mail is the best, I swear.

Progress

I finished my first arm warmer last night, weaving in the ends as Adam and I watched The Office and 30 Rock. I love Thursdays, not just because of the primetime TV but also because it's the beginning of my weekend. Thursdays I allow myself to do whatever I want. I don't have to grade papers or clean the house or exercise, unless I want to. And yesterday I wanted to knit.

This morning one of the pipes beneath the kitchen sink broke. I was busy writing, so Adam gathered Lily and went to the hardware store. I sat at the computer feeling a little fragile and wishing I had something interesting to say. I drank my coffee and fidgeted with my one arm warmer while my other arm remained chilly. Even the sunlight bursting through the window beside my desk wasn't shaking me my from my funk.

But upon their return, Adam walked into our bedroom with Lily and a dozen roses, which he insisted were from her. I held them to her face so she could smell them, but she tasted them instead. Adam said she cried the entire time they were at the florist because the woman behind the counter was Korean and had a thick accent. Apparently we don't expose Lily to enough Korean people. We'll have to do something about that, I suppose.

The flowers came with a promise of lunch at our favorite pub downtown. The weather is cool and sunny today, so I hope to sit outside, drink a brew, and eat a large cheeseburger. It's a good Friday!

Mornings

I wake up around 6 these days. Because Lily wakes up around 6 these days. Even when Adam gets up with her, I can still hear her in the next room taking her bottle. Two weeks ago, we stopped nursing. She hadn't gained much weight, so we switched to formula. It wasn't as hard a transition as I thought it would be. After all, I want her to be healthy. But in the mornings, when I lie in bed, I miss her beside me, nursing quietly.

After her morning bottle, we usually put her back in her crib, knowing that she won't go to sleep right away. Instead, she squeals and rolls around and amuses herself. Mornings when Adam is gone, I sit with a cup of coffee and listen to her. I wonder if she'll fall back to sleep. Some mornings she does.

Repetitive Motion

The word liturgy hadn't entered my vocabulary until last year. It wasn't until I read The Cloister Walk that I had any conscious understanding of rhythm as it pertained to faith. It never occurred to me that it might be important in ordering my faith, that liturgy might not only keep me on track but keep me in the company of others also following a certain rhythm. I like that idea.

I have always been a person who resisted rhythm and structure. But then I had a baby. I realized within the first month of Lily's life that we would have to keep some sort of structure in our lives or everything would fall apart. After a little trial and error, we found a routine that worked for us -- not so much a schedule, but a routine, a rhythm. Lily slept, ate, played, then slept again. That much I could count on.

The last week, I've been knitting a lot. As I've sat knitting, often listening to music or podcasts, I've thought a lot about the repetitive motion of knitting, the rhythm. Admittedly, it's quite tedious. Knit, purl, purl, repeat. Something about it, though, is fulfilling. Perhaps it's that I can see my progress day by day, much like reading a book. I know how far I've come. It's nothing like the other daily activities that seem to be in endless supply with no end in sight -- laundry, dishes, cleaning.

My afternoons and evenings have been reserved for knitting, usually until I'm so tired I can't see straight. Knowing that I have that time reserved to knit, to do something for myself, to create and unfold, is good for me. It may not be reading the Psalms or reciting the Apostle's Creed, but it's liturgy nonetheless. It's a rhythm I could get used to.

Knits

When my mom came to visit this past weekend, I knew what I wanted us to do. I wanted her to show me how to knit arm warmers. Since last year, I've wanted a pair, and even found these ones, which are gorgeous but expensive. After talking with my mom, she assured me that even with my novice knitting skills (my repertoire includes a scarf and half of another one) I could knit my some for myself.

I wanted to knit these, but they're a bit complicated, so I'm using this pattern. We had to modify it, though, because the woman who wrote the pattern apparently has tiny arms. Instead of 42 stitches, I have 57, and I'm making them 15 inches instead of 12.

In looking for a pattern, I signed up for Ravelry. The site is addictive. I spent at least an hour looking at patterns for things I'd like to make in the future, especially for Lily. If you knit, it's a must. If you're looking for free patterns, it's a must. Like this cute sweater pattern. Swoon.

Friday, with Sticks!

We sat outside in the grass this afternoon. It's becoming a cool weather tradition. Lily's better at sitting up by herself now (though I still have to spot her), but she's even better at grabbing sticks and leaves and sticking them in her mouth. And, no, I'm not one of those moms who worries about her eating dirt. It's going to happen whether I try to stop her or not. She may be preparing for life as a farmer, though. It's still undecided.

After a rough week, I'm having to force myself to slow down and relax. I've been awful at it, and now I'm very, very tired. I'm looking forward to the end of the semester and getting some time off from working. I've been terribly out of balance. Time to just take care of Lily and Adam, and time to rest, will do me good.

My mom is flying in tomorrow for a short visit. I'm looking forward to having a date or two with Adam and having a chance to spend some time alone while my mom watches Lily. And, of course, I'm looking forward to hanging out with her, too.

A few things I found this week worth a peek: this, this, this, and that.

Have a great weekend!

Plaid? Scarf? Yes!

So, I made this scarf yesterday. It is super easy nerd fashion, the best kind, and took me about 45 minutes. Plaid? Yes, please. It looks like a tablecloth, but who can resist plaid? Not me. And it must be cool because I saw a student wearing one in the English office today. Maybe she reads 3191, too.

For instructions, go here. Mine is a yard and a quarter square suggested and cost me $4 at JoAnn's.

Here We Go, NaNo

I signed up for National Novel Writing Month this year. I did it in 2007, and actually completed the 50,000 word requirement. What I wrote was hideous and, later when I tried to revise it, I found I couldn't even condense what I'd written into a decent short story. It was that bad. The focus of NaNoWriMo is quantity, not quality, of words. Just get what you can down and then -- aha! -- tell everyone that you did it, that you wrote 50,000 words of fiction and you are that cool.

So I signed up again this year but figured I'd cheat and modify it. What if I just plan to write 50,000 words in November, without the common thread of a novel? What if I just sit my butt in the chair and write? That was my plan.

Ahem, it is my plan. I have plenty stacked against me -- the last month of teaching, my mom's visit next week, Thanksgiving, being dead-tired exhausted from having mild insomnia, taking care of the babe -- so I don't know what to expect. And, though I don't want to always be involved in a project, I'm giving this one a shot. Why? Because I'm a writer. Because when I read this, it made my heart leap. Because I studied writing in college, then quickly abandoned it in favor of "living" (aka. watching TV and drinking beer).

Most importantly, I plan to do it because it's something that's mine, that makes me feel like myself, that makes me feel alive, and that should, in turn, make me a better version of myself.

Feel free to check on my progress and be sure to root me on!

Motherhood as Vocation

A week and a half ago, I came across an article titled "Motherhood as Vocation." The article discusses the difficulty in being a stay-at-home mom in a work-dominated culture, especially for women who are educated and have found meaningful work outside of the home before becoming mothers. A group of women in the Washington D.C. area gathered to explore and discuss their shared vocation. The article affirms that the work of a stay-at-home mom is of utmost importance, just as important as being a doctor or a lawyer or a novelist. It is work that is shaped by the mother's experiences and education, and is by no means inferior to other types of work. The idea that stay-at-home moms aren't doing "real work" is a crock.

What really got me was a quote at the end of the article from G.K. Chesterton:

"How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the rule of three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone?"

Get I get an amen?

I read that and immediately thought of my students. How can I be the professor of 50 or so students, a task that's demanding much of my attention and eating away my sanity, when my primary obligation is to my daughter and my husband? How can I offer myself so completely to an endeavor that's proving to be wholly unfruitful? The long and the short of it is, I can't. And as much as I want to teach and ultimately enjoy it, now is not the right time.

The big question I've had through this is about the importance of my education. If I'm just going to be a stay-at-home mom, what was the point of going to college and grad school? If I'm honest, that was my biggest deterrent to giving up teaching, even at the expense of my wavering mental health. What I'm learning is that my time in college and graduate school has shaped who I am, and what I've learned and done in my life is going to shape who I am as a mother. And who I am is not validated by what I do for "real work."

Thanks be to God.

30 Days of Happiness | Winding Down

Well, despite my not blogging every day of these past thirty, today is the thirtieth day of happiness and the last of this project. Honestly, the last thirty days haven't made me happier, but they have proven that taking a photograph of a beautiful moment is life affirming and critical to my sanity. I think I already knew that.

After all this, I think I need a break from blogging and to limit my screen time for the next week or so. Tomorrow, cool weather is moving in and spending some time in the crisp air and sunshine will do me some good.

Enjoy your week!