Have not

       

These poor, sweaty children. Trapped in an attic apartment. Won't someone help them?

Summer makes me feel like New York has sold me a bill of goods. 9 months out of the year I'm very happy here. Grateful even, to live in a city that offers us so much. Sure there are downsides and inconveniences, but that's part of the romance! 5th floor walk up apartment, mighty struggles with a stroller on subway station stairs, lack of outdoor space... these things are all a part of the experience.

And the money. The money that flies from your fingers when you do things like buy food, pay rent, and put your children in child care... what, you thought living in the greatest city in the world would be free? You get what you pay for.

I rationalize and I greet all the little struggles with a song in my heart... and then the calendar flips to July.

This place is horrible. There is something about the concrete and the heat spewing from all the vehicles on the street. It is a nasty, spiteful heat that saps my will to live. Night offers little relief. The sun may be gone, but the heat has nowhere to go. Don't bother going for an evening walk. Just lay there, listless and bitter, until September.

And somewhere in July, I realize that the romantic struggle of life in New York is not such a struggle for everyone. There are people with money here, and they have things like beach houses and lake cabins. They spend long swaths of summer with a breeze on their faces and the ocean on their skin. The "experience" of an urban summer is saved for those of us who cannot afford to escape. Lucky us.

I rarely want more than what we have. I don't want a car, a big TV, jewelery, gadgets, appliances, a big fat house, etc. Right now though, I would give anything for a little place where a stiff ocean breeze is blowing.

A brief description of a sweet little pork chop

       

She is 4 and a half months old now. How did this happen? Where is my floppy-necked newborn? Who is this bouncing, giggling baby?

As her personality emerges I find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with my sweet Liv. Liv, or Lovely Liv, Livly, Pork Chop, Livlet, Livstress, Livstress Liv-a-lot, Livsie, Livsie Lou, Girly Pearl, Pearl, Darly Bird... any one of the multitude of nicknames she has inspired. Her eyes are always wide open and her head is constantly turning from side to side. She doesn't want to miss out on any of the action.

Having not yet learned to speak, she is often silent. Her sweet, quiet presence contrasts so nicely with Nils and his boisterous, constant chatter. I look at her sometimes, looking at him with big blue eyes and raised eyebrows (surprised!), and I just want to take a bite of that tiny, upturned nose (my nose!). She is delicious.

Liv cries when tired, hungry, or bored with her baby gym. Otherwise she is happy and mild. She likes baths, and laughs hysterically every time I take off her clothes - tickles her neck, apparently. She wakes up from naps smiling. She does not like to snuggle, preferring instead to face away from whoever is holding her. Too much to see, I suppose. She adores her big brother.

Honest to goodness, I cannot believe there was ever a time that she was not a part of our family. How could she ever not have been here? How did I ever manage to enjoy myself, not yet knowing her?

Tumbling

   
I've got this beautiful image going through my head, over and over again. I'm in some vaguely tropical place, swimming deep underwater off the coast. Maybe 20 or 30 feet. Diving, perhaps. The current is pulling me and pulling me, then is suddenly like a tidal wave passing on its way to the shore. It tosses me, I'm tumbling and tumbling. Head over heels, my fins arc over my head. The water is a clear, bright blue and I can hear it bubbling all around me. There is nothing to grab and so I let myself spin and flail. There is no danger.

Then suddenly I'm at the surface. I take in a big gulp of air. Good lord, that was incredible. I look to the shore.

                    *                    *                    *                    *                    *                   *

I've spent the last two and a half years tumbling. The disorientation is more powerful right now - having an infant in my life seems to do that to me. For some reason I have babies and suddenly everything is up for grabs. What defines me? How do I feel about everyone around me? How do I want to spend my time? What makes me laugh? I thought I did all my major re-orienting with Nils, but here I go again.

I love it, feeling off kilter like this. It's as though I could wake up tomorrow and something new could click into place. "You know what? The culture of irony falls flat with me now." Or, "I think I'm losing my itch to travel."  Little things, big things... everything is swirling around me, just out of reach.

I imagine things will settle at some point soon. When I pop up for air and look to the shore, what will I see? Will the landscape be completely transformed? What landmarks will I still recognize?

Having my children has made me feel so beautifully unimportant. There is, of course, the shifting mf my focus from me to them. There is also though, a new understanding of just how powerful the force of life is. I can put together
a view of the world and hold to it as tightly as I want; no matter. It is ripped out of my hands with ease.

The uncertainty... wow. I am so grateful for it.

What I wonder now is this: what other "tidal waves" await? What other events will throw me off balance and force me to remember that I am not a finished product?

Hey there / Livknits

   
Whew. Hey, it's been awhile, right?

Things are nuts. Totally, beautifully nuts. Wonderful, but not exactly conducive to leisure activities (i.e. blogging). I miss my little blog. I like posting pictures and organizing my thoughts. Thoughts... organized ones. I used to have those...

Where do I even begin? And how much time do I have? Both my children are asleep for the night, which means that one will wake up screaming, oh, any time now. How many minutes do I have to sit here and enjoy this down time? Should I enjoy this down time? Would it not perhaps be better to sit here and think about all the other things I should be doing?

I read a Real Simple magazine 10 years ago that had a little collection of time saving tips. One woman had written in a real gem: "I used to write in my journal. Now I put that time to more efficient use: I clean!" My eyes bugged out a little when I read that, and I knew that would never be me. Never.

Yup, 'cause that's not at all what I'm doing right now. Not at all.

It's just that I'm so stinkin' adaptable. Within weeks of Liv's birth I had lost all desire for activities beyond childcare and housework. Reading? Pfffft. Sewing? Whaaaa? Activities outside the home with other adults? Okay, now you're just being weird.

I thought I would look at moments of solitude the way a man dying of thirst looks at a clear, cold stream. Oddly enough, I just end up sitting on the couch, confused and a bit bored. (Should I start cleaning?)

In recent weeks though, I've been really trying to "normalize." I'll take some small thing that fell away when Liv was born, and add it back into my life. Using G diapers instead of disposables. Cooking real food. Reading an article in a magazine. And so forth. Maybe this blog post, as choppy and badly written as it may be, is a step in a good direction. Gol, I do miss thinking.

Oh, and Liv knits! Before I forget!

First, the little pixie hat I made for her. Look at that little nose! And look at her, conked out in the baby carrier (she was just a month old in these photos). Oh, such a darling.

Next, her little blue cable sweater. Alas, no indulgent photo shoot this time. (Oh, second child!) Just a fuzzy shot taken at the pediatrician's. 5 days old!

My personal favorite, the "In Threes" cardigan. I will absolutely be making this in a larger size come fall. 

And every child deserves to wear the "manly baby vest". Best sweater vest. Ever.

More soon? I'd like that. I don't want to be a woman whose only hobby is cleaning. I can see myself going there, and it's a dark place.

So how are you guys doing?

   
I've been getting this question a lot lately. "How are you doing?" It's a good one and one that, were time travel possible, I would come from six months ago and ask Today-Me. We're doing really well, thanks for asking.  We're sleeping decently, no one person is crying too much (though we have all shed a few tears), and the days are hectic but completely do-able.

Make no mistake, there is chaos to spare. At any given time a portion of my home, brain, and life look like this:

but the other part looks like this.

There seems to be no way around this. I simply cannot have all my ducks in a row right now. I suspect this is normal, and I choose not to feel bad about it. As long as I can answer some of the more pressing emails, can put food in our mouths at some point each day, and can walk from one place to another without stepping on too many cracker crumbs... awesome.

Honestly though, bring on the cracker crumbs. I've got the better end of this trade.

   

In focus

    

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to have a family. I was never the girl who was crazy about babies or desperate to meet her husband, but I always knew that I wanted both. From time to time, when the situation warranted it, I imagined my future family in various scenarios. Their faces were always blurry. One of the neatest things about bringing Liv home has been the realization that we're all here now. No more blurry faces. This is my family.

Oliver goes back to work tomorrow, leaving me alone with Nils and Liv. I will freely admit to being a little terrified. Much more pleasant to contemplate is the fact that Oliver and I just spent the last two weeks hanging out at home with two people we invented. Amazing.

But seriously. Pray for me. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.
   

Liv

I woke up at 12:45. 45 minutes into Wednesday and 11 hours before my scheduled c section. Was that..? No. NO. No way. Not happening. I rested quietly, hoping the contraction I had just felt was a one off. I'd been feeling them all week. This was probably just another strong practice contraction.

About 15 minutes later I felt another one. And then about 15 minutes after that one. Then a fourth. I was not prepared for labor. My assumption had been orderly, planned c section. Instead, this seemed like it was going to be messy, unpredictable, frightening labor.

Messy, unpredictable, and frightening ended up being the best things I could have imagined. Liv was born at 9:27 that morning, 90 minutes before our surgery would have started.

*

We named her Liv. A simple, elegant name. One that had two subtle, special characteristics. First, like Nils, Liv plays with the letters from Oliver's and my names. More specifically: you can spell Nils with the letters from our names, but you can't spell it without Allison. With Liv, you need Oliver. The Allison is optional. It's a silly little thing, but I like it. We are a family of letters and words, after all. I've always lived my life through words - sucking in the world through books and spitting it back out in writing. Oliver lives his life in a second language. Words are our thing.

Second: I love the fact that her name, as we pronounce it, is a tiny bit of coded instruction for her. If there comes a day that I am not here for her, she will nonetheless know exactly the advice I would give. Live. Don't make the safe, easy choices if they will keep you from being the best version of yourself. Don't waste your time with insecurity or negativity. Bloom where you're planted. Live boldly and kindly, and listen to your inner voice.