Turn, Turn, Turn...:-)

(And yes, if that puts you in mind of a song from the 1960s, that's the point. :-D)

Things are changing at our house---in a good way---that's making me blink at just how fast things are happening. My daughter is about to finish her third month of preschool, and aside from one minor melt-down when she abruptly realized her daddy wasn't right there with her, she's really enjoying it. She's growing and changing and just, well....becoming more and more of a person each day. Which isn't to say she was a walking asparagus or something before...but I look at her and I recognize bits of myself or my husband in the way she reacts or behaves. I don't know who she's going to grow into, but I bet the ride is going to be interesting, to say the least. :-P

And my husband is trying to reenter the workforce after having been a full time stay at home dad for the last four years. With the economy being what it is, I don't really expect things to happen fast, but for the last four years, it's been me leaving and going to work and coming home. It'll be a switch to see my husband doing the same.

Not much has changed with me lately, but the changes are all around me. As we head towards Samhain and the end of the year, I suppose that's only natural. :)

The Only Constant

I know I've not been posting here recently (well, not since *gulp* June LOL) and that's mainly because things have done a fair amount of changing since I last posted.

The major change involves my daughter. On Tuesday, she started preschool. No tears, no sniffling, she just waved bye and was off like a shot. I guess I could have been offended LOL...but the reality is, I'm not. I'm proud of her, for being the kind of kid---even at almost four---who isn't afraid to try something new. It's the start of a new journey for her, and for us...and if we're a bit more nervous about it than she is, I guess that's normal too.

(And for those of you who are wondering...no, no sign of another child yet. If it's in the cards, it'll happen. :)

The other change is that I finally got to meet the members of the writer's group I'd been collaborating with for the last year or so. (If you've been following my BatB fanfiction blog, yes, I'm referring to the ladies of "Everything...") We met in July, at a very small con (aka, "family reunion," the main difference being that no one's cheeks got pinched. LOL) and it was like we'd known each other all our lives. I confess I was surprised by that; many years ago, in another fandom, I'd met an author I'd been chatting with and when we finally got together, we had virtually nothing to talk about.

I can still say, nearly a month after the con, that that wasn't the case this time. And I can't tell you how happy that makes me feel. We all come from different backgrounds, but we never ran out of things to say, or laugh, or cry about. And you can never have too many friends.

So that's the update, such as it is. I'll try to post more often :)

Surfacing and Growing :-)

Well, after a week where we were all sick (again) and our water heater leaked (but was replaced,) I feel like it's been ages since I posted though it's only been two weeks. Whew. The next time I say I want to move---unless it's to a house---someone please slap me. Or send me away to a nice padded room somewhere....:-P

Tonight my hubby and the wee one and I went out to a local Italian restaurant whereupon our daughter---who is a whopping three years old and three feet tall---informed us that she was too short. I don't know where she's getting this (though it might be just her noticing comparisons; her dad is 6'2 and I'm not precisely short either), but I wonder if she's starting to make the connection between the things the "big kids" can do and the things that she can't yet.

The thing is, she is growing (and how) into someone who's neither her dad nor I, but herself. I looked at her tonight and was reminded of a poem Khalil Gibran wrote years ago about children in The Prophet:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

Packing, and other exercises in frustration

So, I've had a three day weekend and although I've gotten some packing done, it's mainly been in the tossing of things no longer needed that I've really been excelling. However, I did discover one thing that I really should have known:

Tossing old baby bottles in front of the toddler who used to use them...is just asking for trouble. Because no matter how much you tell said toddler that she's a big girl now and doesn't use those any more...she won't believe you. No matter what. (And sometimes...yeah, I don't believe she used those either, though I know perfectly well that she did. They're so small.)

Then there are the boxes. As I joked to one of my friends, our boxes apparently came with a toddler inside. Because our daughter just wants to play and play and play with those boxes...which is great for her imagination, but not so great if you're trying to pack with those same boxes.

So, yeah. Looks like we'll be packing after she goes to bed tonight. :-)

Four days and counting until we can start moving....and 17 days until we have to be out of here for good. Whew. :)

Passages, Large and Small

My husband and I are going to be moving to a larger apartment next month. This was not exactly in the plan, but we've vastly outgrown our itsy bitsy teeny weeny apartment (which was fine for the two of us but when two became three, and three came with baby stuff and then AND GOT BIG...yeah. It's time.) We were supposed to have been in a house by now but if there's one thing 2009 taught me (again) is that sometimes, things really aren't in my control---or anyone else's.

So I wrote out our notice to our landlord---it'll go out with tomorrow's mail---and I feel a pang. It's not that I want to stay (gods forbid---when I say we're cramped, I'm NOT kidding) or that we're making the wrong decision in moving. But this place was our home for almost five years and a lot of good (and bad) things happened here. I found out I was pregnant here, and miscarried here. My husband came home from coronary bypass surgery here, and our daughter was conceived here. My water broke here, and five weeks later, we brought our daughter home from the NICU. My cat passed away while we lived here. And so on, and so on. Life happened, in other words.

I don't know who will live here after us. That's the thing with apartments---they're supposed to be transitory. But I wish them well, whoever they are.

And to anyone who may be reading this...may 2010 bring all for you that you didn't get in 2009, and may you stay safe and healthy with those you love.

Blessed be.

The Age of Reason. Sort of :)

I'm home today---my husband has a nasty migraine (though really, is there any such thing as a non-nasty migraine?) and has been suffering from it since about o'dark thirty this morning. So it's pretty much me and Roisin today. This, coming on top of the Cold Virus of Doom (which we all had over Yule and are all---still---trying to get over) makes me really want to go throw a pity party, table for three. We're all just getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Which brings me to my daughter. She's had the crud since Christmas day (and for one of Dante's rings of hell, nothing quite matches a sick, cranky three year old with parents who've had roughly three hours sleep between them.) When Roisin is sick, she alternates between being cranky and being clingy. But as she's been getting better, I've noticed something.

I can reason with her now.

No, I'm not talking about advanced level discourse---we'll not be solving the problems in the middle east anytime soon, or ending the war in Iraq. But she's getting to the point now where I can talk to her and at least explain what she's doing wrong and what Rob or I have asked her to do. I don't pretend that she immediately does it, or that we don't have to repeat ourselves---she's three, after all. But it's the difference between not being able to explain to her (because she wouldn't get it) and being able to communicate fully with her.

It's a nice change, if a little unnerving at times. She's changed so much in just the last year---it wasn't so long ago that we were seriously considering having her evaluated for a possible speech delay. But to look at her now...she's growing more into her own person. And I wonder what else she'll tell us.