we're movin' ya'll

three years ago, eric and i bought our first home. we moved to peoria for three great reasons: eric got a full ride to attend bradley university for his masters, i got a job at my old high school (where i always dreamed of teaching), and my parents live here! we were excited. we bought our house after one day of searching, and never looked back. this house has been pretty perfect for our first home. we made it ours. i've stocked up a thousand memories between these walls.

but, i always knew we'd leave. for whatever reason, peoria has never been it for us. i knew that. even moving boxes upon boxes into this house, i knew we'd be leaving. i knew we'd move on.

in november, they closed my school. woodruff high school has been my second home for many years. i've celebrated 7 birthdays there. i've had some of my proudest moments there. i became a real teacher there. if i think too long about what closing woodruff means to me, i cry. it gets to me at the weirdest moments: when i turn the lights on in an empty auditorium, when i sit alone in my classroom at the end of a day, when the first student says, "Seaaaaaman!" suddenly, i find myself choked up and nostalgic. i find myself helpless to stop something i wish i could. a school closing is like someone you love dying. next year, my students will be shipped off to different high schools and teachers who have taught at the same school, some for 20 years, will be teaching in classrooms across the city. it's a bum deal-- the whole thing.

i don't have tenure yet. i would be getting that next year. but, i always saw myself teaching at woodruff. i always wanted to be a part of the crew that inspired me to become a teacher. next year, that won't exist anymore. do i still love teaching, yes. of course i do. however, i can't explain it, i need something different. oh, and i was pinked slipped-- JERKS.

so, in june, we'll be moving to austin, texas. as of now, i am looking for a part-time job. that's right, PART-TIME. i will be a stay at home mama. there is nothing that makes me feel happier than writing that. i'm going to be a cowboy boot wearin', breast-feedin', liberal in a red state rockin' SAHM.

when we first move to austin, we'll be shackin' it up in eric's parent's awesome RV; we don't know where we'll be after that. we are now in the process of getting rid of roughly 80% of our belongings. i've already been researching play groups for henry and attachment parenting groups for me. when eric and i see pool floaties at target, we squeeze each other's hands and smile. this is right.

henry eats; i cry.

when i first read that pediatricians recommend waiting until 6 months to introduce solids, i thought, 6 months? that's so far away! there were so many times i thought i would start early. i bought rice cereal when he was 4 months old. but, i put it off. as the six month "deadline" approached, i found myself feeling downright sad. something about his growing up in that way depressed me. i know that is terribly selfish to admit, but it did. there is something so powerful about having someone rely on you for their every need. yes. sometimes it's overwhelming, but mostly? it's wonderful.

breast-feeding has been like something out of an indie flick with a terrific soundtrack for me. when we first started, it was tough. henry wasn't latching right, and i was worried we wouldn't be able to hack it. we met with lactation consultants often during the first few weeks, and for the first months, it was painful. my wrists ached from constantly re-latching him, and i worried i was doing something wrong. but then? around month three, we got it. suddenly everything worked. spending time feeding hendrix wasn't a chore, it was a blessing. each time he ate, it was just the two of us again, a sacred ritual. there are so many little things i'll keep close to my heart always, like the way he reaches up and grabs the collar of my shirt, the way his hands touch my face, the way he smiles while eating or the way or the way his eyes drift off into the most peaceful sleep. we are so close during our time; we're inseparable.

i know, of course, this can't last forever. i understand that, but i have so cherished this perfect design. i have loved every minute of being needed in such a powerful way. and now? henry is becoming independent. something other than my body is starting to nourish him. and someday, he won't need me to survive at all. of course, he will still need me, but not in an evolutionary sense. he will grow and be on his own.

and that? that makes me sad. happysad. i remember feeling this way after his birth. after 9 months of our secret existence, he was venturing out into the world apart from me (but still a part of me). i remember mourning our separation a little. yes. i was thrilled to have him in my arms and truly know him, but part of me missed having him all to myself perhaps each milestone of his will feel this way, like a departure?

dear lord., if i feel this way about APPLESAUCE, what am i going to do when this kid goes to school?

i spend a lot of my time at home just holding henry and staring at him. i recognize that this could be bad for his development, maybe detrimental, but i can't help it. i am a GAWKER when it comes to this little PERSON. more and more, he's looking like eric to me. his laugh grows bigger every day, and his smile. ugh. this kid's smile could end wars.

5 months...

i haven't been keeping up on blogging.

i haven't been keeping up on much of anything. i HAVE been keeping up on kissing, feeding, changing and adoring this little guy. i've had to force myself to let that be enough for now. supermom may not really exist. at any rate, i'm not her, and that's okay.

hendrix is technically 5 months old; i can't believe i can write that. he spends most of his time being held, smiling and bouncing. there aren't really any "milestones" to write about. he's not very interested in rolling over. he'd much rather have us help him bounce or stand up. he's starting to sit up, but needs help. i can't believe how quickly he is changing.

he has started grabbing EVERYTHING. if it's in his hands, it's in his mouth. he's teething, but it's touch and go. one day, he's a wreck; and the next, he seems to be fine. we're using teething tablets, and that seems to work well.

his skin is SUPER sensitive. even aveno baby lotion will break him out. so far, california cream (at 12 bucks a canister) is all that will work all over. poor kid. i put baby oil on him last week (a suggestion from grandma)? he was red like a tomato in less than 20 min. we seem to have a handle on it now, but it felt like a losing battle for a while. the side of his change table is small menagerie of lotions.

he's sleeping with us. he has been since around 2 months. it's the only way he will sleep, and the only way we do. i LOVE it. i do think we might try to transition him into his own bed at some point, but for now, this is the decision we've made.

he's perfect. i'm so lucky to be his mama.

the multi-tasking mother

eric and i started reading cornel west's memoir over christmas break. cornel is a power house philosopher, but an even stronger person. in his memoir, he talks at length about his work ethic. he's the type that greets the morning sun with a coffee and book in hand, ready to change the world. his life story is amazing, but he left me constantly wondering, how does he do it? how does he juggle book deals, teaching, family, relationships, travel, and still find time to put a smile on?

lately? i've been stressed; i've been overwhelmed. i'm sure this is nothing that would surprise anyone. however, i'm not usually the type to feel incompetent of keeping it together. becoming a mother has been the most amazing experience. it's made me stronger, more alive. but, it's also made me responsible for another human being 24/7, and that's a lot to handle. most days, i'm lucky if i get ANYTHING done after returning to work. i could come up with a million excuses for the way things are going, but that doesn't quite cut it for me.

you see, i want to be the type of mom that does it all. i realize this might be an unattainable goal, but i want it so badly. i think we all know those people that make the rest of us feel bad-- the people that eat "to-do" lists for breakfast. those people exist. they are REAL. they get stuff done. and i want to be one of those people.

i have this terrible fear that i'm going to look back on my life and somehow feel cheated, like i could have been all those things i wanted to be but was too lazy. i think that may be my greatest fear. i am terrified of mediocrity, of the status quo.

& so, my new years resolution? to become accountable to that mother of my dreams. i want to BECOME HER. i recognize i am now mothering an infant. i know he probably doesn't care that his mom doesn't have it all together. but someday? i want him to feel completely secure and happy. i know that if i don't feel completely secure and happy within myself, i can't make that world real for him. and that? it ain't happenin'.

hendrix's first christmas? GREAT SUCCES

we had a full day of opening presents, playing board games and eating wayyyy too much chocolate. hendrix was passed around to each family member like a little hot potato. we ended the night with screaming laughter, hen asleep in my arms. it was 70 degrees out, but it still felt like christmas.

miracle on gift street.

i can't believe i haven't updated this blog (truly) since henry was born. i guess i expected the first thing i would put up would be his birth story, but the truth is, that's still in the works. i haven't even "penned" more than 12 hours of it. my goal is to have at least part one of it done before the end this break. stay tuned.

it's almost christmas. this time last year, it was the last day of my last period. i know that's an odd and funny thing to write, but it's pretty memorable for me. when i first found out i was pregnant, i went to all these "determine the due date" generators. they all asked, what was the last day of your last period? and yep, last year on this exact day, december 23rd, henry was a tiny egg waiting in my ovaries. this time last year, he was a mere possibility. now, he's here sleeping next to me.

i don't think i need to tell you he's perfect-- but i will.

he's introspective and curious. he questions his world constantly; you can see the gears in his brain working it all out, delicately. he is smart, truly, a thinker. it's amazing to see him processing the world around him, becoming familiar. i know he'll be a hands on learner. he wants to be a part of everything. sometimes he'll fight sleep just to be around the action. he has just started recognizing wrigley and has recognized eric and me since nearly the very beginning. now, when we walk into a room, he greets us with the widest of smiles.

i have never seen anything as miraculous as his smile. the corners of his mouth turn, the right side first and then the left. it's infectious. his smile is filled with kindness. it is not a selfish; he smiles because he loves. i don't think i could ever adequately describe it. you'd have to witness him smiling to truly understand the strength of it. and he's slowly beginning to laugh. it's a small giggle right now. one day, it will be full and boisterous. one day, he will be laughing with us. how amazing is that?

hen only cries when something's wrong, and it has never taken us too long to figure out what he is attempting to communicate. but ugh, i hate hearing him cry. i'd heard that his tears would break our heart, but at times it's really too much. we decided to vaccinate, and when the nurses put needles in his tiny legs, something inside me broke in two. if i could, i would save him from every pain in the world. the longing to shield him from reality is overwhelming.

this journey hasn't been a walk in the park, there have been late night fights and tired tears, but we are blessed. we have a SON. last year, he was a beat of my heart. i nurtured and carried him for 9 months. i labored for 24 hours and released him into the world. he is now living and growing from my body. there is nothing more gratifying or powerful than the process of his growth. we are responsible for it, entrusted with it.

with God's help, we'll do right by him.

pictures in this post all taken by my good friend, Amy Werner