endure for a night

I first thought of this blog as a kind of scrap book, a way to document the life I'm living with my children.  But I think it's ok to start moving past cute baby pictures, though there are some of those too, don't worry!  Oh look, here are a few, from a recent playdate with cousins:

But right now I want to talk a little bit about how things are going.  And how right now, I am scared.  Deep-down, nails-bitten-off, awake-in-the-middle-of-the-night, scared.  Because, for a bunch of reasons that aren't all that important, I have to find a new job.  I am my family's financial support, and I have three babies to feed.  If I can't pull this off, we're in serious trouble.  So I worry, and chew my nails, and try really, really hard to think about anything else.  Sometimes that works, but sometimes I feel like the walls are closing in and I can't catch my breath.  And I'm flailing around, trying to think of something, anything, I can do that will bring in the income we need (yes, need) and will still allow me to be truly there for my kids.  Not "there for my kids" in the sense that every mother is there for her kids, because of course we all are.  But physically there - on the first day of school, at the soccer game, over afternoon snack.  I have a few crazy plans, but any one of them would be a huge leap of faith and risk failure on a massive scale.  I'm terrified.

But you know what?  We've actually been here before.  We thought we were in a crisis a few times - a job search that went nowhere, a house purchase that fell through, a new baby on the way when we hadn't quite gotten all of our ducks in a row.  And it all worked out, every time.  And every time, the result was better than I could have even imagined.  So why am I so afraid?  Why haven't I learned?  Listen, I know, I know, that life doesn't always work out.  People really do lose their homes, have to start from scratch.  I'm not unrealistic about that, and that's what keeps me up at night.  But I also have to remember that we always come through it somehow.  And maybe a leap of faith every now and then is for the best. 

summer days

I'm a big believer in boring summers.  They should be so boring, they should be endless. Each day should last for weeks, with not much to do but examine cool new bugs and make up games in the woods behind the house.  So we've been doing a lot of this:

And it's been good.  So, so good.  Now, I'm not a purist.  The kids went to the pond every day for a half-hour swim lesson (the town offers them at something like $3/day.  How can we say no?) followed by lazy lunches at the beach with friends, lots of free swim and sandy bathing suits.  Afternoon naps, loads of books.  I read the boys The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and they can now identify fauns on sight.  Conor is learning to read.  We're planning a weekend on Chappaquiddick with my aunt and uncle.  But still, we've been able to slow down and just have a boring summer. 

This summer has made me so happy, and the thought of going back to work full-time (I'm at 3 days a week now), which is a looming possibility, is getting harder and harder to stomach.  I know I'm going to need to just put on my big girl pants and do what's best for our family.  I know that.  But oh, it's going to be hard to let these days go.