Mid-September Mawkishness

In a little rural home, in a small community, a mother of three putters throughout the day. She used to be a mother of two. But on the 14th of July, a certain little fellow made his entrance.

I say little.  He was 9 pounds and 10 ounces. And, mind you, that was two weeks early.  Can we say BUTTERBALL.

Anywho, we of course think he is the cat's meow. Nevermind. I don't like cats.  He is the dog's bark. We all are in agreement that our little Kit (Christopher Roy) is perfection in a rotund, roly poly, ball of squeeziness.

I haven't blogged in so long. I feel rusty. First it was feeling crappy throughout an entirely uncomfortable pregnancy. Then it was the foggy haze of brand new baby. After all - I'd had three and a half years to forget what a newborn in the house was like. Furthermore, in the midst of it all I had two older children adjusting to what their new positions were in our changed family. My oldest becoming the helper I had to rely on with greater frequency. My "baby" becoming the middle child who straddled the desire to be a big kid yet not quite wanting to relinquish his little boy grip. The newest addition, a peaceful infant that nevertheless requires near constant attention. A hard working father that balances work and family life as the sole breadwinner. A mother who see-sawed emotionally from all the new feelings too. Toss in some postpartum yucks, anxiety, fatigue, and periodic baby blues. What do you get? A tossed salad of familial confusion.

We are getting the kinks worked out for the most part. Settling into new routines. Routines are important in this family - seriously important. We thrive on them and wither, dither, slither without.

My oldest child and only daughter began kindergarten this fall. It was a challenge. Talk about separation anxiety and adjustment issues. I think we've gotten over the worst, thanks be to God.  Big brother is getting used to having the alpha role during the day while she is gone and I think he enjoys it. Although he is still young enough to get whiny if he feels he isn't getting enough of my attention.  Which, unfortunately, sometimes happens with a new baby.

Life is clipping along at a rapid pace. Way too fast for some things. Generally though I am loving the advent of autumn and embrace the transition of a season change. Fall always triggers deep emotions in me. Quiverings of heartstrings, yearnings, nostalgia, along with a healthy dose of bittersweet memories. I've touched on my emotional ups and downs before. They are still there rollercoasting me along. With baby and my other children, the happy times are blessedly more frequent and lasting. The darkness still creeps in at times though.

I haven't been to church in oh so long. What keeps me from it? Certainly not my faith itself. That is still deeply intact within me. Part of my absence is the overwhelming tiredness of just raising a young family, being a wife, and homemaker. Snippets of it could be snowballed shame - the kind where you've been gone so long it just gets worse and worse to where the actual facing of going back at times feels insurmountable. Frankly, the doll-garned biggest part of it is my social anxiety/avoidance issues. Going out into public when the majority of my life is so insular and home based makes for a painful situation. I feel awkward, unwanted, nervous, and ill equipped for life outside hearth and home. My hermitish tendencies may need help at some point if I can't get my act together. We'll see; regardless - the substance of me remains, it is just hiding under a protective mantle that abhors crowds of people. Pitifully a group of even 10 people can constitute a crowd to my ninny of a self.

I've started baking and making goodies again. Much to the enjoyment of my immediate and extended family. :) As of right now, soaping is still on hold. My tools and supplies are packed away in a rubbermaid tub; oils in longer term storage via deep freezer. For awhile I had lost my groove in that direction, wasn't sure if I wanted to revisit the hobby. A recent tingle in my fingertips tells me it won't be too long and I'll want to take up the reins on that activity again. Viva la Suds!

So, there you have it. That is the past few months of my life conveniently gift wrapped in a windbaggy blog post. Don't say I'm not a giver.  Really, don't.  I'll mail you a dirty diaper with no return address.

See ya wieners. Love, Court