Things.

Whew. I haven't written a real blog post in months, and I'm still not even sure I have anything important to say. *** In some respects, I feel like our lives are creeping by so slowly that progress is almost indiscernable. This house, for example. I am so ready for a change. I was ready for a change five years ago, after we brought Harvey home. I wanted everything to be new, to have a fresh start. Without all the baggage of his adoption reflected back at us in the faces of people at church, or the tough memories associated with these rooms. Back then, we put an offer on a house that I adored. Needless to say, things fell through, and even though in retrospection it is definitely good things didn't work out (it was an expensive house, and we were buying right before the market crashed) I am s.t.i.l.l. waiting for my change of scene. It's getting under my skin now more than it used to, probably because with Jed in school I know that it is going to be another two years at least. *** My writing. I hate to think about how much of myself I have dedicated to this pursuit. Years. That's all I'm going to say. I'm not going to throw in the towel. I don't believe it's a worthless wasted effort. When I look back at everything I've written, I can see how much I've improved. Things I wrote two years ago are embarassing to me now. Which, perhaps, is part of the problem. I hate for anybody to see what I've written, because I can't help but think about how much I am going to hate it a year from now. The sum of all my fears is, essentially, this: I cannot write a book that is more mature, more graceful, or more insightful than I am. Right? When I am fifty, and I have a wealth of life experience to draw from,everything I wrote today will still exist. What idiot would want these writings to be public? The minute you publish a book, you, as a writer, have a label that is going to follow you for the rest of your career. This is a huge mental barrier for me. Unreasonable, maybe. But it is what it is. Do you know how many query letters I have sent in the history of my writing? Three. Zero three. All on the same project. *** In regard to the kids, time is zipping by fast. Much, much too fast. Harvey is turning five this month. His head comes up above my elbows now. We have made an IEP for Kindergarten next year. He is starting to read. *** My baby is almost three and a half. For whatever reason, just thinking about Grey being three gets my old clock ticking. I am 29 this month. By all appearances, Nielson baby #3 is in no rush. This is weighing on my heart, perhaps because I had two new nephews born last night. Two. Not twins. (The twins were born three months ago) These two were from seperate Mama's. Being infertile in the world's most prolific family is un-fun. Un. Fun. When Jed is finished with school, when we have better understand of Harvey's autism, then maybe we can start thinking about home studies and adoption profiles again, but right now I just don't think I can muster the required emotional stamina. For now, it is enough that I have these two beautiful little boys. Not a single day goes past that I forget the miracles that brought and kept them here. If I go to my grave a mother of two, these boys are enough. We are so happy. We love them so much. *** Jed's school is the only aspect of our lives ticking along at a reasonable pace. He finished the spring semester with (another) 4.0 (Yes, bragging. I am so proud I can't help it) and is taking a huge math class this summer. Next semester it will be time to think about transferring. *** Business has been booming. Last semester was the busiest five months of Jeds admittedly-not-very-long-life-thus-far. Even though Jed's work is unpredictable, and there is no such thing as a paid vacation, I love his job. I love that he is always in the garage, just in case anyone needs stitches. I love that he comes inside for lunch with the boys every afternoon. I love that I never have to worry about him getting laid off and being unemployed for long periods of time. I know he's not going to stay young and strong forever, but I will sure be sad watching him get up every morning and head off to a nine-to-five. I will miss the week-long breaks between jobs. They give me much-needed time to put my life together. And when I say life, I mean laundry. He has one such break this week, but it sounds like he has picked up another kitchen early next week, and hopefully he will stay busy after that until our annual back-to-school lull.