Home today with the girl, who shared her cold with me last week and has now added pink eye to the mix. Magical.
I am mildly stressed about missing work... I don't want to lose the vacation day but this is motherhood and those are the sacrifices, right? I have been picking away at some work projects at home and plan to do some more after she goes to bed, so technically (I think) I can consider this a work day. It just feels weird.
Ah, work. It is ramping up. Each morning I walk in and wonder how on Earth I'm going to stay busy all day but I most definitely do. I've spent the last 6-7 years with a caseload, which ought to say it all. Now, no real caseload (except for the 1-2 mornings a week that I still do clinical work) but definitely a load. And a steep learning curve. And a lot of room for change which may or may not make me popular. I wish dad was here for some insight. I'd probably be annoyed by his unsolicited advice but the truth is I always wanted to hear it. Not that I always followed it, but I always wanted to hear it.
Dad. It will be a year this Sunday. The weather was very much like this, sans the sunshine. It seems like a lifetime ago. A lot has changed.
The home renovation project continues and I'm TOTALLY excited about this Friday, when we sit down and talk about the fun stuff with the architect. So many dreams tumbling around in this pea brain of mine and I can't wait to see them on paper. Is this actually going to happen? (Yes.)
I've rethought things and decided I want my craft room/studio in the attic. And I want it to feel like an attic -- a fully loaded, completely functional, super-cozy attic to be sure, but still an attic. The Mack Daddy of attics. I want to be able to curl up by one of the windows and read and maybe fall asleep. I want to put my Mom's Christmas formal on a dress form and make it the piece of art that I think it really might be. I want it to be my grown-up girl-fort. And I want it to be the place where I can sew, scrap, and craft my brains out. You too, if you want to come on up. There will be lots of room so come on over anytime.
And I might call it a studio. But I'll probably call it the attic. We'll see.
Our little bouncing bear continues to be the best thing that happened to either of us. She exhausts me and scares me and really pisses me off sometimes but she's fantastic and I really, truly know how blessed we are to have her. She is strong and healthy and smart and sweet and beautiful and I don't forget for a minute how lucky we were to hit the jackpot when she joined our little family.
I see her starting to push boundaries. This scares me (because I realize this is going to go on -- and escalate -- for years and years to come), but right now it's still pretty endearing. She does for things she knows she shouldn't and when you call her name she turns to you with this "What? Me? I'm sorry, was I not supposed to do that?" look on her face. It's cute the first 2-3 times. And she's also started the stalling game at nap/bedtime. My most favorite rendition is something I call "a million little kisses," because she kisses me everywhere: my cheeks, my chin, my neck, my ears, my eyes, my forehead, over & over & over. They're just these sweet, tiny, soft little kisses and they make me melt. I'm sure she knows it, and I'm sure she's working it. But I fall for it everytime.
Maybe Sara calls this game "Mama is a Sucker."
Sounds about right.