The Beanstalk

Record of a writer, a family & an adventure.

Month: July, 2013

Four.

Jack turned four months old on July seventeenth. Usually I’m good about posting that day, but as you may have read in the most recent blogpost, it ain’t happening these days. Ten days late is better than never. Here are pictures from month four…

 

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Grandma and Grampa came to visit. We sat on the porch a lot.

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Jack got to meet Aunt Scooby (and was very excited about that….)

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As well as his pal Tucker (and Aunt Ella!)

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His wife-to-be, Eva G. Her married name will be Eva Evans. 

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The Evans celebrated July 4th!

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And we hung out for a weekend on the Grindrods’ porch. 

 

It is really fun to see this kid grow…. it’s been a great four months so far.

Life recently.

It’s been a longer time since I last wrote for the blog. It’s been a long time since I’ve really written much at all. Life has been rich but writing has been dry, like a dried up tongue. It seems like that wouldn’t be the case — that with joy and experience and treasures a writer’s words would flourish and gush out over keys like spilled cream. I am disappointed that it isn’t the case, and though I hate hate myself for saying it, the truth is that I haven’t been writing because I have been really, VERY, busy. Working from home with an infant is like trying to pluck your eyebrows in the dark with a strobe light blinking behind your head and reflecting in the mirror. It is not impossible, but it is way more tricky than I would have thought. For instance, Jack was four months on Wednesday and he had to get his shots (which is miserable, but another story). Shots plus Tylenol equal one sleepy little babe. I finally laid that sucker down to rest and sat down at my computer to work on QuickBooks (a financial program I despise with a terrified passion, yet use because my job requires it, and only understand at its most basic and necessary surface levels) where I spent the entire two hours of the heavenly, silent nap. I had entered my last check and clicked submit when I heard Jack stir. An “Error” appeared–something I had not entered correctly. Two hours of work. Disappeared. I didn’t cry. I just went and got my Monster out of his crib, put him in his car seat, and took him to Francesca’s to buy non-dangly earrings because he had started in on the habit of ripping my danglies out. Buy one, get one 50% off. Bingo.

“Busy” is a word I actually hate. There are very few of them–each word has a time and a place–but some I loathe to use, especially in relation to myself. I do not want to be “busy.” I want to be relational, useful, content, full, thriving. Not “busy.” But I’ve got a knack for making it that way. I have excused my writing hiatus for a while, citing my incredible 24-hour, 9-month morning sickness, then having a baby, then taking care of a baby. But I have grown tired of making excuses, and even more, of missing this very core element of myself: that I am a writer, but I don’t write. (The blog is the only thread holding me in). I must return to the discipline of daily writing. I won’t receive the stories, I won’t hear the muse, I won’t feel my head growing flowers until I return to the discipline. Stay tuned.

Month four photos to follow soon. I know, surprising to hear that I haven’t been keeping up with my photographs. They’re all sitting in teensie digital files on my D-40. Give me a babysitter for four straight days and I think I could get all of this sorted out…