Being Here

When I was pregnant, I boldly told everyone about my plans to return to work--after a healthy maternity leave, of course. I had been the go-to babysitter among our friends and a full-time nanny for a family I loved. So I knew that taking care of kids all day can be really boring.

Staying home, repeating the same mundane routines, eating beige kid food leftovers off plastic plates, and the need to be ever patient with a tiny, developing human wasn't really attractive to me.

I didn't want my involvement with and service to the world to stop at our front door. I didn't want to get caught up in creating the perfect home life and become only inwardly focused. I was also doubtful that I could be an example of truly empowered womanhood if my kids never saw me care about more than their personal comfort.

I read Lean In and was interested in (if not cautiously optimistic about) finding my own path as a working woman.

As a nanny, I saw how important it was for children to have caregivers in their life who they could love and trust in addition to their parents.

I did return to my job after a nice maternity leave. My organization was incredibly supportive of families and I actually brought my daughter with me to most of my job for a whole year. It was pretty amazing. And really hard. It turns out babies need quite a bit of attention--even if your coworkers are incredibly flexible and forgiving. I was doing two jobs at once.

But the hardest part wasn't really getting everything done. The hardest part was coming back to the margins of my life when I wasn't working. Marriage, friendships, self-care, service in my community all took a major back seat. They fought for a spot as my last priority. Every evening was a rush to get something (anything) taken care of. Even after accounting for the new balance of a multiplying family, I didn't feel like myself. I was too busy. And I knew it could be different.

Previously, the slow time and gauzy hormones of postpartum opened me in a new way during maternity leave. I started praying like I never had before. I had no trouble being present with my friends and family, even myself. I joyfully cared for myself, my family, and my friends. And my heart was soft in a new, surprising way. There was a new vulnerability in me during maternity leave that I was curious about but couldn't pay attention to when I went back to work. I cared so much about the world and all the people in it. All the people are, after all, someone else's baby.

Maternity leave gave me a taste of another way of life. I dismissed it for a long time, believing it was some special magic that only happens when you have your first child. You have all the time in the world to mother your one, reasonably demanding ball of squish.

Doing the work of caregiver and my day job became too much. (Obviously.) Not just physically. I was successful on the agenda but I didn't feel any joy or deeper purpose. For me at that time, it became obvious that life was not how I expected it to be and I needed to reassess my choices and (more importantly) how I made them. When I had the chance to reflect, I was completely surprised to find how much I wanted to stay home with my daughter.

My existential longings, paired with the financial reality of impending childcare costs, convinced me to swallow my words and consider staying home. It dawned on me that someone needed to watch the baby and it might as well be me. It's funny to me how this revelation took its own time to finally click. Do other people realize it sooner?

We lost a third of our household income when I stopped working. I was scared because the budget was already (has always been) tight. But I knew that I was proactively making this choice. I wasn't a victim. "I'd rather be broke than busy" is what I said. "I'm buying my own time and presence."

Working that first year taught me I could do it.
Quitting taught me I don't have to. Or not all at once.

As I was leaving my job, my biggest concern was trying to define myself. "Does this mean I'll never go back to work? Am I really a stay-at-home-mom? What does that mean? I hope I don't suddenly start obsessing about trivial domestic tasks."

I had to actively let go of expectations and self judgement.

The lovely truth is that I'm not only reaping the sentimental benefits of being home all the time (first steps, first words, etc.) but I'm also intellectually fascinated about how and when new skills develop in children wholly unprompted (I've never pushed my daughter to reach milestones).

Also, it's just really nice to be in my own home so much. I saw the opportunity to include my own joy in our daily routines and I'm making ways to intentionally enjoy that. I buy myself special tea, I wear my robe, I take baths and read a lot of books (hello I have only one kid), I play a lot of jazz music, and by some miracle I am learning to almost enjoy cooking. Being home most of the day is a gift that I want to relish.

The best news is that I actually feel more free to engage with my community in meaningful ways now that my time is more my own. This is totally privilege and one I do not intend to waste. Every week, when I look ahead, I consider people and events I want to support and show up for. We make time to visit and host friends new and old. I feel like I'm truly teaching my daughter how our lives can be given to greater purposes. Yes, the budget is still tight, but I've learned that coffee and an open heart is about all you need to make someone feel seen, welcomed, and heard.

I totally understand why someone would say that staying home isn't for them. But I do believe there are important lessons one can learn from a season of this kind of parenting. I would encourage any new mothers to be open to all options as their life really changes -- family, time, identity, and capacities are all affected.

I am the first to admit surprise, but I am here. Fully. I'm being here.

The First Year

Here, this is cute:

Diane Keaton has this quote that Jake and I can't help but keep referencing--usually while simultaneously waving a figurative white flag: “Motherhood has completely changed me. It’s just about like the most completely humbling experience that I’ve ever had. I think that it puts you in your place because it really forces you to address the issues that you claim to believe in and if you can’t stand up to those principles when you’re raising a child, forget it.”

Parenting this year (plus one month) has made us question most of our values and choices; weighing what we want, what we say we want, and what our culture tells us we should want.

If pressed to say, I think my favorite part of motherhood has been the chance to dig deep and find an intuition I always hoped would be there. It builds confidence. It's the only way forward I can live with.

Maybe that's why motherhood has made me so homesick and wistful. I was surprised by my weighty desire to be my most true self as a mother. When faced with a parenting or life challenge, I kind of peer into my soul as to ask, "Ok, so what have we got to work with?"

Sure, I've learned a ton. I've changed in ways that will fundamentally add to and rearrange that inner-toolbox-self. I've also looked to many amazing mother role models around me. But I'm still me. And I have to be me. And that makes me very happy.

Hey there.

Hey, here I am. A mere four and a half years later.

So much has (predictably) happened since I closed down this blog. I could try to catch up on all of it. But wouldn't it be nicer to just start with today?

Today, I took the baby to story time at the library. Oh yes--there is a baby. Praise God for that baby.

The entire city library system was down but my dear librarian, Emma, still let us check out books. She said she'll have to go back and enter them all manually later. Yikes! Now that's a librarian. I picked up an easy, engrossing book to compliment the parenting book I'm reading. Gotta finish them both quick before my next book is available at the library. It's for the new book club I've joined, which means I have a deadline, and I heard it's not thin.

Today, I was thankful to have healthy lunch ingredients on hand and I also made dinner. Jake has been cooking us all 3 meals every day for over a year. The newborn phase for me absolutely necessitated two fried eggs every morning, right away, thank you. I am looking for ways to pitch in now that the baby is older.

It's a new week and a new month and I've got a new job. I'm giving myself a personal sabbatical this summer. So, maybe, oh, until September? October? I'm trying really hard to rest and reflect but I'm doing much better on the former than the later. I'm hoping any important revelations will step forth like roll call and shimmer in front of my eyes on their own accord. I've really sucked at reading any scripture for a while now but I DO see a spiritual director. And she's awesome.

One goal for this month is to actually make time for 5 minutes of yoga every day.
A special oil blend made by a friend,
Slow breaths in and out to a count of 8,
favorite poses like legs up the wall and cat cow,
maybe a psalm (but I'm trying to keep things reasonable.)
It sounds like a good time and routine I'd be grateful to have.

Today, the new library book, with its crinkly plastic cover, made an amazing reflection on the wall as I was reading, and our astute child spotted it immediately. We had a great time making it dance. It looked a bit like a constellation but more like a "Where We Fly" map of the world. I find being intensely in-the-moment is probably the only cure for being bored.

I decided long ago that "a documentation of our days" sounds like too much pressure. But how about a soft place to land some thoughts worth keeping around? And a reason to take more photographs with my nice camera?

This was us a year ago, so I'll have to find something decent and current to share soon.

Love,
Taylor

Closing Shop

Dear friends,
After quite a few years blogging here, I'm closing shop. I've been journaling since I could write, and journaling online since high school. But I'm increasingly less comfortable with the internet, and also craving more real paper and ink in my life. My writing has drastically changed since studying and working in journalism, as well as blogging, and I'm hoping this change will heal that. I've been told I like/need solid "closure" in my life and making this final post is it.

I still fully support bloggers and creative, internet pursuits. A personal blog is just not for me right now.
I plan to keep up my new food blog because it's a different kind of venture. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Knowing that most of you who read this blog are my real life friends, neighbors, colleagues ... and mom!, I want to say thank you for following me to this little corner of the internet, and thank you for supporting my creativity. Truly.

Now let's go to Barnes & Noble or something :)

Birthdays!

These cold months are full of new years for us.

Nov. 7 -- New year married.
Nov. 27 -- New Christian year beginning with Advent.
Jan. 1 -- New Year in the western calendar of months.
Jan. 13 -- New year of life for Jake.
Jan. 18 -- New year of life for me.

We had some friends over to celebrate the later two events.



It was a little funny asking to everyone to sing me happy birthday. But I loved dishing out the goods.



And I really love a house full of friends.
(Credit for photos of us goes to friend Colin. Which I appreciate so much!)