Our First Anniversary!

One Year

Believe it or not, it has been one year since I arrived in Pittsburgh. 365 whole days. And what a year it has been!

This time last year, I was pulling my hair out trying to pin Uhaul down about the location of my worldly possessions. My mom and I were getting lost trying to find grocery stores, flowers and other things to get ready for a wedding. Friends and family were preparing to arrive in Pittsburgh. And all my thoughts were consumed with to-do lists and pulling off a ceremony and reception that wasn’t too stressful and a blessing to those who came.

All that seems like a lifetime ago – not merely a year. Of course you know that getting married is going to change your life. Especially when you move half way across the country to do it. But even with that knowledge, I don’t think any of us realize how much life can change.

In the past year, I have gotten married. I have become the owner of a washer and dryer and bought a couch. I have gotten lost in the city I now call home more times than I can count. I have changed my name (which took months!). I have seen fireworks from Mt. Washington, been to a Pirates game and ridden a bike all over the city of Pittsburgh. I have a new job, joined a new church and enjoy a wonderful library system. And – biggest and best of all – I have a baby girl lying in my arms who is presently fighting taking a nap.

One year. It passed like a blur…full of it’s own set of trials, joys, tears and laughter. What a year!

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?