I feel guilty that the dishes aren’t put away, I haven’t called my mom, and the laundry is piling up, but I also know I need to take time for me. A wiggly one-month-old squirms in the mamaRoo and a cat is curled on the couch.
I could clean, walk, SLEEP, but instead I choose to write.
2016 is drawing to a close and my familiar New Year’s resolution echoes… “write more.” A goal that I didn’t come close to achieving.
My blog is in desperate need of an update–it still says Aly LEWIS and that I live in Guatemala. My last post was about pregnancy and Aidan is now here. Life has changed so much since then. It’s so full now. I tell myself that’s why I’m not writing, but that’s not true. Writing is hard work–being honest with yourself, taking the time to transform nebulous thoughts into words. It’s work. But it’s work that I know I need.
And so I’ll start with what I do best–baby steps. A friend challenged me to write every day to get back into the swing of blogging and to hold her accountable for posting too.
I want to write about the labor process. Anxiety during pregnancy. My unexpected c-section and recovery. Ryan’s role in all of it. I want to write about the details of Aidan–the soft fuzz on his upper shoulder. His new bald spot on the top of his head. All of the smirks and frowns and expressions he makes as he’s both falling asleep and waking up. The way he arches his back and clasps his hands under his chin like he’s posing for an Anne Geddes calendar. The way he stares into space, focusing on nothing at all. His hungry tongue flicks and gummy screams. How deeply satisfying it feels when he settles into nursing, knowing I’m giving him all that he needs in that moment. His chirps and whistles and grunts and yips.
I want to write about being a new mom, teaching citizenship classes, how my faith has changed these last few years. Depression and hope and God.
But my baby step today is writing about wanting to write. So here is my post to say that I want to write more. That I will do my best to squeeze in words between nursing and soothing, soothing and nursing, nursing and soothing again (#growthspurt). That I will find moments to write as the mamaRoo whirs and Aidan whistle-snores in the background like a clogged kazoo.
My friend is offering daily writing prompts to get us going. I’m late on both prompts she’s posted thus far, but I’ll do my best to respond to them briefly. The prompts: Christmas and goals for 2016. Clearly I did not meet my goal of blogging more in 2016, so there’s not much to say about that. On to Christmas.
Christmas was different this year. With a baby.
This year was the first time in my entire life that I didn’t spend Christmas Day with my parents. My parents always set out our stockings and my dad records our walk down the hallway to see what bounty Santa has bestowed. We unwrap an embarrassing amount of presents–even since we’ve been adults. This year it was just the three of us on Christmas morning, my little family. And I am now the parent.
I woke up at 4:30am to nurse Aidan and didn’t go back to sleep. I had to finish putting together Ryan’s present–an Ikea cabinet to house all of his adult beverage supplies. I filled Ryan’s stocking with dollar store goodies and baked salted caramel cookies. I Facetimed my mom. I saw the sunrise.
And it was perfect. I didn’t want anything but the three of us together.
We’re starting our own Christmas traditions–eating cookies for breakfast and catching a drive-in movie Christmas night.
We had lunch at Ryan’s parent’s house where they doted on Aidan who slept through it all. The bitter of not being at my parents’ was overpowered by the sweet excitement of knowing that in just a couple weeks my entire immediate family will be living in San Diego. We’ll celebrate the Lewis family Christmas with my parents and siblings and stockings (and video recordings I’m sure) when they’re all moved in to their new houses. This will be the first time we’ve all lived in the same city since I was 18.
Aidan can grow up just minutes from BOTH sets of grandparents, aunts and uncles, a smattering of cousins, and whole host of friends who feel like family. And that, as cheesy as it sounds, is the best Christmas present I could ask for (along with fresh baby snuggles and a nap).