Snow falling on cedars

It's been a year since I've read a book. More or less. Reference books about babies not counting. It's been strange, since I have always - always - had a book on the bedside table, so to speak.  Being a "reader" is important to me; it's one of the ways I identify myself. It's how I've spent so much of my time. It's the closest thing I have to a passion. When I found my mind wandering last summer, and my efforts to rein it in didn't work, I decided that I had to let it go. "This is what happens to you when you're pregnant," I told myself. "Just give it a few months. You'll be back."

Then Nils came, and any thoughts of reading flew out the window. And it wasn't even that I was so busy or tired (which I was, of course). I just didn't want to read. Everything sounded boring and complex, and I knew I would just start a book and put it down 40 pages later. Or, if something finally caught my interest, the whisper of the opening pages sent a voice in my head to scold me. "Hm. Reading, are you? Wow. Didn't know you had so much time on your hands. And I suppose there's nothing else you could be doing with that time. Hm."

It was all well and good enough. I busied myself with household and logistical tasks while Nils napped, and watched delicious television with Oliver in the evenings. I went to bed early when I could. "You'll be back," I told myself while I chopped vegetables or folded laundry. "Don't sweat it."

I'd be lying if I said it didn't gnaw at me though, a bit. Who was I now? Was I just a mom? Had I lost parts of myself forever? Would I ever be able to sit down again and think long, drawn-out thoughts? Would I ever want to? Would I stop learning now? Would I just live through my child?

Then I picked up a book one day. Snow Falling on Cedars, a novel I had started some time ago and tossed aside. "I'll just read it on the subway to and from work," I said. "Just a little bit here and there." I read on the subway, and it was good. Then one night Nils fell asleep, dinner was ready, the apartment was clean, and Oliver called to say he'd be home in about 45 minutes. 45 minutes to myself! 45 minutes in a quiet house while the light turned golden before fading out. I stretched out on the couch , and there I stayed until the key turned in the door.

I finished the book today.

I'm back!

To my thoughtful, generous man

  

Happy Father's Day, dear husband! Thank you for giving our son those eyes. Among other things.

The rest of life begins

  

Last week I went back to work. It was both nerve wracking and not a big deal at all.

I've got what, to me, is the ideal setup. I think. I'm working part time, just two days a week for now. Maybe I'll kick it up to three in the fall, maybe not. I work two days in a row in the middle of the week, leaving me a nice five-day stretch to spend with Nils. My workdays are shortened too; six hours instead of your typical seven. I'm keeping up my skills and resume then, and having adult interactions without feeling like I'm letting someone else raise my son. This is a good compromise. Probably the best I can possibly get.

That first morning was hard (as were the several nights that preceded it). I wished for a way to make him understand why I was leaving and when I'd come back, but those sweet blue eyes were uncomprehending. Walking to childcare, I thought to myself, "this is unnatural! Why do we live in a society that forces us to separate from our children so soon?" Would he cry all day? Would he feel panicked and abandoned? Would I feel panicked and neglectful? Turns out we were both fine. He was all smiles when I dropped him off in the morning and all smiles when I returned. He'd had a good day, I was told. He'd only cried once. He's a cool cat, that kid. For my part, I was able to both focus and catch up with co-workers. The day sort of flew by; imagine that. I'll go back in twice this week, and will probably freak out just a little tiny bit.

So all is well. Having been through time at home with my baby and the return to work though, I can now say with confidence that I like being at home. I like it better than being at work. Raising Nils is such an amazing thing, and I know it's only going to get better as he gets older. There's so much I want to teach him.

Work is great too, of course.  I plan to continue doing it. I'm just so glad that I can do it on a part-time level for now.

That old summer itch

With the turn to summer each year generally comes an itch to get up and go - preferably somewhere quiet, dramatically scenic and far away. This year is no different. We've just recently made our vacation plans (family time in Germany with a side of friends and sightseeing in Italy), and my excitement is powerful enough apparently, to have spilled over into fantasies of more! Some places I wouldn't mind being today:

Out hiking. I wouldn't mind making my way up and up until I could rest at a spot like this one. (Gros Morne National Park, Newfoundland)

 

It would also be nice to take those same hiking boots and navigate a stony beach. Maybe stop for lunch right along the water. Finish the food and loll about, tossing rocks into the water. (Gulf of St. Lawrence, Newfoundland)

I wouldn't mind staying close to home, either. The Hudson River Valley is beautiful, and it's just a commuter train-ride away from the city. I could do a little day hike, turning around once in awhile to admire the view behind me. (Hudson Highlands, New York State)

It would be nice to try and tackle a real mountain, too. As "real" a mountain as I'm going to tackle, anyhow. I wouldn't mind looking up and letting my jaw drop. (Zugspitze, Germany)

If I'm going to start climbing mountains, why not go high enough to break out the winter jacket? I'd love to feel the air getting colder and colder, to fill a bottle with water from a glacial lake.  I wouldn't mind seeing peaks so massive that they almost seem to make sound. (Ilampu and Laguna Glacier, Bolivia)

  

I think a day hike or an overnight outdoor excursion is in order...

Connected unconnected thoughts

  
A few weeks ago I found out that I had lost my job. Budget cuts, apologies from my boss, etc. It was a shock. I looked over at Nils, giggling and kicking his feet on a blanket, and felt like everything had just shifted. No longer a woman on leave, I was now an unemployed librarian - and one who already had a three month gap on her resume. Or, looking at it another way, I was suddenly a stay at home mom. What had been a lovely break, precious time with my baby, now became... what had it become exactly? Who was I now? Why was it that everything I did now seemed trivial and silly? Where exactly did I fit in?


A week and a half later, I found out that I had gotten my job back. Budget finangling, exclamations from my boss, etc. Another shock. I had just gotten used to the idea of being home with Nils for a bit longer. I had adjusted my expectations and made new plans. Okay, so now I was a mom who worked part time? Good, right? Wasn't that what I wanted?


Just this past week I was in North Dakota, visiting some relatives. A cousin and I took a walk late one night, Nils in tow. The air was cool and Nils slept on my chest in the carrier. The town was dead silent; houses to our right and fields stretching out forever to our left. Far off in the distance the lights of Fargo made a halo. Everything seemed so small and enormous at the same time. All I could think was "I'm just one little person, walking along one tiny road in one of a million small towns. I am insignificant. So incredibly insignificant." It felt good.


Every night before I go to sleep I pray. "God, take whatever you want from me. Take everything from me. Leave me joyless and hopeless; whatever works best for you. Just watch over every single hair on his little head."

Our first mother's day

   

What a wonderful day! I had sort of been imagining it since I found out that Nils was on his way. What would it be like to be a mom on Mother's Day? Turns out it feels pretty good. Strangers came up to me with well wishes. I think they saw how tiny my little one is, and assumed (correctly) that this was our first Mom's Day together.

And honestly, it was just the best! Oliver had it all planned out. First, brunch on the Upper West Side while Nils napped.

Then on to the Bronx Zoo. The zoo! Okay, so maybe Nils is still a little young to really get the whole "zoo" experience. Still... he looked at some of the animals:

The polar bear didn't seem to hold his attention though. Go figure:

His hands though - those were worthy of his time:

He even got in a little practice time on two legs:

Now the pressure's on... Father's Day.

Brief interruption

     

We took a short break yesterday from putting the apartment in order. A visit to Greenwood Cemetery was in order. (More park than cemetery, really.) It was a gorgeous day; blue skies, cool air, crisp breezes. How could we not take advantage of that?

I grabbed a taco from a nearby tacqueria and we headed for a spot with both sun and shade. We ended up sitting on the steps of a mausoleum on top of a hill. The grass was so thick and tall that the blanket I spread out for Nils billowed up around him. He flailed his limbs about and made baby sounds. I took in the view: Manhattan, the Hudson, Jersey, Brooklyn. To anyone not from Brooklyn it may seem strange that I took my child to a cemetery. Just trust me on this one. And anyhow, it seemed like a kind thing to do. If I were resting for eternity at the top of a hill in Brooklyn, I would love it if a woman and her little one came to play nearby one day, feeling the breeze, enjoying each other's company and giving thanks for the beautiful day.