Back to Work

Well, the vacation is over. If you call maternity leave a vacation. Little sleep, changing diapers, cleaning the house. Not exactly a vacation, but I enjoyed it. Enough to forget quite a bit of what I do for a paying job.

I can’t say I’m over the moon about returning to work and we are praying it won’t be for long, but God has provided a job for me that is flexible. When Ed gets home in the afternoon (he starts work well before the sun rises), I leave him with Emry and head to my office for a few hours. Thus far, it has worked out quite nicely. He and Emry get to spend some time together and a few hours goes by quickly for me. Especially when I’ve piles on my desk to get through.

Some things haven’t changed. We’re still wrestling with PennDot. (Like anything government run, they never tell you everything up front so when you think you’ve reached the end, you haven’t. And then they tell you you’ve taken too long to do this or that because they keep rejecting it for reasons you can’t understand so you have to start all over again. Really? What is so difficult about being honest and upfront that government people can’t understand?) For me, building spreadsheets is like riding a bike – you never forget how to do it. (And good thing since we’ve gotten three new VA cemetery jobs and a couple of additions on past contracts since I’ve been gone.)  And the city is still two months past due paying us.

But while I’ve been gone, I have certainly put everything dealing with an office aside to focus on being a mama.  I couldn’t remember what drive my accounting work was in on the server.  I still have to remind myself how to read the billing sheets, which can be a bit confusing.  And I need to look at my list of all the end-of-month reporting I must do because I know I will miss something. No doubt it will all come back quickly, though. It is just an office – no problem.

So, we’re trying to get into a new schedule with our little family and I pray that Emry will have the grace she needs to settle in with us – not to mention the grace we need to live it. Isn’t it good that God’s grace is truly sufficient?

Firsts

We all have firsts in our life. Our first word. Our first step. Our first day of school. Our first trip on a plane. The list continues throughout our lives. At six weeks, Emry has already had lots of firsts:

First real bath. First walk. First trip to the library. First smile. First trip to Home Depot (which she slept through). And first time at church. This past week we added a couple of more.

Okay, we confess. She had her first taste of ice cream. Probably won’t tell the pediatrician that. And maybe it makes us terrible parents (although no worse than my Aunt Peggy who dipped her sons’ pacifiers in chocolate bars and fed them diluted Jello in their bottles)…we just couldn’t resist. I dipped her pacifier in a little bit of vanilla and gave it to her. Yes, she’s a fan…and can’t wait to visit Goldenrod in New Hampshire.

She also had her first trip to South Park, the park where Papa whiled away his young hours. We went on the swings for the first time. And then we took a walk. At first, the walk was a bit traumatic. How dare they pave the walkway smooth? This is Pittsburgh after all! The city of potholes, bumpy roadways and no straight lines. Being a native, Emry doesn’t like smooth. So, we had to go off roading in the grass in the stroller that has been well worth the money invested. In Pittsburgh, you need shocks on your stroller. And, if you’re Emry, all the bums and dips and hard knocks will put you right to sleep.

 Swinging with Papa.

 In her new dress Aunt Jenny made.

Napping on the blanket from Grandma Sturm.

Abnormal or Normal?

I have always considered myself a “normal” person. I mean I’m not beautiful, or a genius, or especially talented. I’m average looking, worked hard to get decent grades and my skill set is more practical than anything. So, since I’m not Kate Middleton, or Albert Einstein, or Vincent Van Gogh I’m just “normal”. Right?

I’ve learned in the last many months that may not be the case. I first learned this upon becoming pregnant. In my family you don’t really go to the doctor unless you’re dying, in unbearable pain or having a baby. And that is because we are “abnormal”. In other words, we’re healthy. I don’t have the long list of things they ask if I have on all the paperwork you have to fill out at the doctor’s office. Nor do my parents have any of those things. And although both my grandfathers has cancer, I’m not likely to get lung cancer since I don’t smoke like one grandfather did or have a prostate. My blood pressure tells every nurse that takes it that I’m a runner and they are astounded that I tell them “no” to every “do you have…” question they ask.

And so even Emry is starting out life as “abnormal”, astounding the nurse at her first check up that neither either of her parents or any of her grandparents have diabetes, hypertension, heart problems or anything else on their long list.

We also don’t take drugs in my family. Meaning, I can’t remember the last time I had to get a prescription filled. Which is probably why the two I had filled after I gave birth caused me to run in circles. Not only had I never been to an actual pharmacy but I didn’t have my pharmaceutical insurance card on me because I never imagined needing it. Meanwhile, the guy two people ahead of me had a bag full of enough drugs to supply a small hospital. And there was a line of people as long as the Superman ride at Six Flags at the counter. Maybe I’m not a true American…I don’t take prescription drugs.

Aside from the medical side of my life, if the two neighbors we’ve had living above us since we moved into our duplex are any indication, it is no longer “normal” to sleep at night. The first played video games all hours of the night, sometimes never going to bed before he left for work in the morning. The new people I’ve only seen out the window because they’re rarely around. But I do hear them up in the middle of the night, doing who knows what and then leaving. Apparently, we didn’t get the memo that sleep is overrated. Although maybe I have joined this “normal” club since Emry’s arrival – a membership I’m going to let lapse as soon as Emry sleeps through the night!

Of course, I suppose that “normal” is a word everyone describes differently. What is “normal” to me isn’t “normal” to someone else. If that’s the case, I’m quite happy to be “abnormal” – healthy, drug free and keeping typical day/night hours (more-or-less).

Who ever thought being “abnormal” was comforting?

Reading

It’s no secret that I am an avid reader. I have been ever since I learned to read. And I hope to pass on that love to Emry.

Emry does like to read. I think. It’s a bit hard to tell, but since her vision has improved she does seem to enjoy the pictures. And I enjoy the reading, so I guess it’s a fair swap.

We read every morning together. It’s been fun to pull out the childhood Bible story book I had. My dad read this book to me so often I can’t even tell you how many times I have heard the stories, although the taped up binding may be a good indication. I had them all memorized by their pictures. Now Emry and I read one story every morning, having made our way through Genesis and will start on Exodus tomorrow.

Some mornings we also read other stories. Emry has a wonderful selection of books in baskets in her room. Some of them are mine while others have been given to her as gifts. Yesterday we read Goodnight Moon, a book I once had in paperback. She really seemed to enjoy that one, although she added her own thoughts and opinions the entire time I read. (She is “talking” a great deal now.) Then we read Sleeping Beauty from her fairy tale book. A family at church gave her a beautiful book of fairy tales and another book full of nursery rhymes, It is safe to say Mama is enjoying these books as much as she is.

And that is what I find is the most fun about reading to Emry. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I read Goodnight Moon. Or The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse. And I struggled to bring to memory all the words of “There was an Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe”. But I can still tell you every Bible story in that book by it’s pictures.

So now I will close and enjoy a few minutes of reading to Emry as she falls asleep. Today we are reading The Tortoise and the Hare. When’s the last time you read that?

One Month

The other day I was on the main street in the little town next to us visiting a store I had a gift card to. (A fascinating store full of cloth diapers and fun, wooden toys.) I had Emry in her car seat, getting a little restless because we had been out for a while and it was near lunch time. As we left the store, a line of four-year-olds from a nearby daycare and their teachers walked by. All twenty or so of those little kids looked at Emry and said at once, “Aaawww!”

Out of the mouth of babes – I have a cute daughter!

It’s a little hard to believe, but Emry is now one month old. She’s grown. She is now a whopping six pounds, 12 ounces. She likes to wiggle, stretching her arms and legs in all directions. She sees at a greater distance, especially enjoying the balloon we brought home from her baby shower that is attached to the shelf near her crib. She likes to talk, loves baths and falls asleep in the car or on walks.  We love her so much and are so glad she is in our lives.

Emry can’t believe what her Sock Monkey just told her!

 

Laughing with her Sock Monkey.

Singing.

Making faces.

Spending time with Papa.

Mother's Day

It happened about two months ago when I saw an announcement in our church’s bulletin. Oddly, I had asked Ed about that very thing earlier in the week: did the church do baby dedications? He said he would find out, but according to the bulletin, the answer was yes. They were having one on May 10^th – Mother’s Day. That’s when I realized that I would be a mother on Mother’s Day. And I cried.

There have been many women whose paths cross mine and whom I admire for one reason or another, but two have always stood out to me. First, my own mother. Not a year goes by when my admiration of her doesn’t grow. Especially now as I care for my own little girl, I wonder more and more how she did it. How did she raise eight children?

Just one little infant can be exhausting some days! How did she move from house to house to house and never have a place to call her own? She owned things I didn’t know existed until I was eleven years old and she finally decided she would unpack all our boxes just to see belongings she hadn’t seen in years. (And would pack again in three years to move yet again…) How did she juggle schooling, and sports, and sewing our clothes, and extra activities without ever seeming to drop a ball? Emry doesn’t have any of those things yet and already I remind myself ten times of her doctor’s appointment just so I won’t forget!

And then there is Allyson. I admired Allyson before she became a wife and mother and my respect for her has grown in the past twelve years since she married Kevin and now has seven children ages eleven down to one. Being a frequent guest at her house, I have watched her handle her children with grace and patience. The house they bought when they married has shrunk considerably with the arrival of each new child, yet I’ve never seen Allyson loose her temper as she trips over a school book or computer Kevin is working on. (Praise God they have finally been able to sell that house and will soon move to a larger one – an answered prayer I have seen Allyson despair over at times.) And she didn’t pause a moment to pack all seven kids in their van last summer to drive to Pennsylvania to be at my wedding. And not only be there, but she and Kevin sang and her three girls were my flower girls. I was honored and humbled.

And that is why I cried that Sunday at church as I contemplated the fact that today I am actually a mother celebrating Mother’s Day. Because I never thought I would be. Not at my age. Not after decades of aching hope. And to join a group of women so much greater than myself…well, I certainly haven’t done anything to earn such a place. In fact, I know how far short I fall from that title – more so now that I am a mother. Yet, by God’s grace, I am what I am. And, by God’s grace, I will set my feet to walk in the path of those great women before me. For Emry’s sake, I hope I succeed. At least a little.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Spring Cleaning

Just to show my life doesn’t revolve around Emry, I’ll write about what else I’ve been up to – spring cleaning!

Enough said.

No one really wants to read about someone else wiping down baseboards, giving their furniture a thorough dusting and putting a lot of elbow grease into scrubbing the bathroom. All within the few hours snatched here and there around Emry’s feedings, walks, fixing meals and loads of laundry.

So, maybe my life does revolve around Emry.

But with just a few odds and ends and the kitchen left to do,  I shall have a thoroughly clean house by the time I head back to work in two weeks. And I am quite happy about that.

Our Weekend

This past weekend, we had our first visit from my side of the family. Grandpa and Grandma Sturm came with Aunt Sally. It was a nice change of pace. Emry had lots of new people to hold her, take her on walks and Grandpa is especially good at holding her pacifier for her. We look forward to more visitors this summer!

Emry and Grandma.

 

Emry and Grandpa.

 

Emry and Aunt Sally.

Emry a little bored at Mt. Washington.

 Our little family.