Poor us.

Caelan, when I was growing up your Poppy had a million sayings. One that has been ringing in my head of late is "Money can't buy you happiness, but happiness can't buy shit". (I'm hoping that by the time I allow you to read this, swear words won't come as a shock, even from your mommy.) While the statement may be true, I feel the need to add to it with an old Seinfeld cliche: "Money can't buy you happiness, but happiness can't buy shit... not that there's anything wrong with that". I guess I'm trying to say that we're poor, dear Caelan, and I'm ok with that- for now.

We're not destitute, by any means, or even ACTUALLY poor by the standards of its definition. Clearly, the title of this entry is meant as a joke poking fun at our current situation. We have enough to pay all of our bills, buy food, clothing and other necessities. We just don't have a lot left over to buy that shit that happiness can't buy. Why so happy, then?

I guess because, in reality, we have made the choice to be poor. I CHOSE to quit my job teaching in order to be home with you. I knew that, despite the major financial repercussions, we would ultimately be happier to have me at home taking care of you. The choice was: will Caelan be better off throughout his first year of life with extra money or extra love from his mother? No brainer.

The reality of living with this choice is a little more difficult, of course. We constantly have to turn down invitations for dinners out, etc. but that is fine! Instead we stay in, read together, cook meals together, take walks together and talk. Key word here: together. Not having the extra cash around has given us the opportunity stay put and just BE. It is so easy to let your life fly away and let time escape when you're constantly on the go. Being forced by finances to just sit still and spend time with my loved ones has been the greatest blessing. I love your father more and more with every passing day, especially now that we have the time to appreciate one another and our love for you is outrageous. I thank the Lord that we were given the opportunity to be voluntarily poor and reap the benefits. I am happier with my life than I have ever been.

Let me also note that, while your Poppy's saying up above may sound harsh, I never heard it until late in my teen years. That is to say: as an adult I now know that we were also poor-ish in my youngest years... and I had one of the happiest early childhoods of anyone I know. Looking back at the teeny tiny house that we started off in (which your Poppy built with his own two hands) makes me laugh. I never noticed how small that house was or how often we may have had Spaghetti-o's for dinner. I only remember a childhood rich with laughter, play and a mom and dad who loved us and each other by the boat load. All of that shit that our happiness couldn't buy could have never replaced our time together and time that we were able to share. Thank you, mom and dad, for being poor when I was little. And thank you for becoming rich later in my life and sending me to the best schools that money COULD buy.

Hopefully, my sweet baby, you'll be able to thank us for being poor one day. So far, so good. Our decision to kiss money goodbye has allowed us to hug happiness hello. We don't have much, but we have each other- and guess what? That's plenty for me.

I'm Baaaack

Just a quick update to announce that, lo and behold, I am not a spam blogger and can post again! My account was shut down for about a week because my blog was flagged, for whatever reason, as a spam account.

I don't have much time to write at the moment; we just got back from an AWESOME surprise trip to North Carolina and I have a boat load of unpacking and cleaning to do. For now I'll just post a few pictures from the weekend and I'll write more when I can about our visit with Nana and Poppy. It was SO great to see everyone. I hate that we live half way across the country.

In anger, sadness. (But not really...)

I recently spoke with an unnamed friend who made me feel like a complete psychotic for choosing to be a stay-at-home mom. How could I stand to be alone with nothing but the sound of my own voice and a crying baby? How can I just 'sit around' all day doing nothing but caring for an infant? Clearly my brain must have permanently shrunk to nothingness during pregnancy and stayed that way. I was once educated- slightly brainy, even. What happened?

At first I was angry with this person. I don't judge her choices; why is she judging mine? It was already a painstaking decision to stay home, taking its toll socially, financially, etc. I don't need a friend to question it further. Then I sat down to read to you, Caelan, and felt pure sadness for this friend.

I got to watch your eyes viewing the pages of a new book for the first time, full of wonder and amazement. (Unfortunately, the book was Hop on Pop... perhaps Dr.Seuss's crappiest work ever.) I felt sad for this friend who might not know the satisfaction of reading countless numbers of books every day to their child. Since the day you were born, I have been dying for some recognition, and finally achieving it was huge for me. I read to you multiple times every day and practice sign-language constantly; finally seeing some recognition for these efforts feels like winning an Olympic gold medal. My poor friend doesn't know this satisfaction because she drops her kid off at Daycare at 8am and picks her up just a couple of hours before bed-time. Someone else is getting to experience these victories for her.

And then I realized: How dare I!?! I AM judgemental and I need to stop. Pity is every bit as offensive as her comments! The bottom line: every individual and every family is completely different. You just need to do what works best for you and yours. If your family is healthy and happy, then your needs are being met- Kudos to anyone who can accomplish this, by whatever means necessary! For my family, this means me at home. It IS the toughest job I've ever loved and by far the most gratifying. I can't wait for the challenges ahead. I have not lost my mind, my wit or my intelligence. I simply feel more fulfilled at the moment by teaching my own child than teaching someone else's. Respect that, and I'll respect whatever your family does. We're all doing what we think is best. Who can scoff at that?

Happy Times

Just a quick update to mention that Gardy is now home from the hospital and doing great. He is eating solid foods again and savoring every last mouthful. I am about to head to the store to get the ingredients for making some brownies topped with Snickers. (Our agreed upon favorite candy bar.) After living for nearly a week on nothing but an IV, he has quite a new found appreciation for flavor. Welcome home, Grandpy.

Last night was my first day back at MSS for Tiny Dancers. It was a blast and I can't wait for Monday. When I injured my back years ago, I used to sleep with a note inside my pillowcase that said "God, I'm a dancer. A dancer dances." -begging for the chance to do it again. Somehow over the years I let myself forget how important that was to me. I used to cry myself to sleep at night and would promise over and over again that if I could get better and have the ability to dance again, I would never take that ability for granted. I LOVE to dance and I feel like an idiot for letting go of that for so long. So now I have to make up for the lost time and I couldn't be happier to do so.

That said, I feel like dancing. Time to go get jiggy. [Side note: I am actually using Will Smith's 'Gettin Jiggy With It' in my 7-9 year olds hip-hop class. It is pretty much the funniest thing I've ever seen.]