I don't know why I haven't written in awhile. I think I just got a little bored with my blog, honestly. Perhaps the facelift will help? I follow blogs in a reader, so it doesn't matter much to me what the design looks like, but maybe some people still read them the old fashioned way. But this looks kind of pretty, no?
So....what shall we talk about? I've forgotten how to do this. Pour yourself a cup of tea, I might ramble.
I'm leading a seminar on Biblical Femininity for the church. That goes in the category of "If you had told me ten years ago what I would be doing now I would have laughed at you."
(That's a large category, by the way.)
But I think it will be fun. Having wrestled those ideas from every angle, I feel comfortable where I've finally landed, for maybe the first time ever. So I'm happy to help other ladies wrestle their way along.
And in that same category, I've been enjoying milking June Carter Cash, and making chevre and yogurt. I milk the goat, make yogurt, put it in the vitamix with strawberries and local organic greens, and go bake some whole grain bread. And do some homeschooling.
(Who am I???)
This post really has me thinking. When I first left my job, I struggled with missing the sense of accomplishment. It took me awhile (maybe 2 years or more) to learn to get that same feeling from housework. Cooking more than cleaning, still. Maybe that's why I go overboard with the Susie Homemaker/Prairie Woman business. Still craving a fix of "getting stuff done." I do a lot FOR my family, more than just WITH them. Especially the kids. Sometimes I'm too busy cooking for them, cleaning for them, teaching lessons for them, to just enjoy them and BE WITH them. I feel like I work well and rest well, but there is a spot somewhere in between, maybe a less efficient work that makes more room for relationships, that I have trouble finding.
Does anyone else fight this? Did moms a hundred years ago feel this way, or is it a more recent phenomenon, with the comparison to the working mamas? Or remembering the efficiency of our pre-baby, professional selves? Or maybe I've just always been this way. I kind of think it's just in my personality.
I had a sweet/sad little sentimental moment this morning. I'm loaning my Pump in Style (that sounds better than just "breast pump", right? i'm trying to be sensitive to the male readers here. you're welcome.) to a friend. i dug it out of the closet and turned it on to make sure it was in good working order. Instantly, that little whooshy sound took me back. I didn't pump much for Betty (she hated bottles), so I was transported back to Jonas' babyhood. I spent so much time in little pumping rooms at Ben Taub (that's the Harris County hospital where I was a pediatric intern, for the uninitiated). I remember sitting there, not minding the inefficiency of this 20 minutes every 3 hours, wishing I was home with the little man. Pumping is a huge annoyance, but it was the least I could do, i hated being away from him so much. I really hated working after he was born. I'm glad I tried it, but it was pretty gut-wrenching. So I overcompensated with the pumping. I was a pump nazi, taking herbs and meeting with lactation consultants, walking out of ICU rounds to pump, whatever i had to do to make sure the little guy never had to take formula. That was my way of being there for him.
I remembered all of that in an instant. That feeling of wanting him in my arms, of never being able to do enough, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing something very unnatural in so many ways.
So now, however much I sometimes miss the efficiency and accomplishment of work, I am so thankful I'm not there. I would not trade this mess and noise for anything.