Normalcy Intertwines the Surreal

 Throwing on my blue checked bathrobe, stained by sharpies accidentally thrown in the wash, I bring my nearly 3 month old baby boy downstairs with me. I push the curtains aside, open the back door and turn off the AC. It's in the low 60s, again. Fall is coming. 

I click the hot water boiler, grab some yogurt, try to be healthy and throw some collagen in it, and sit on the couch to finish nursing my son.

The Back porch is crisscrossed with dancing sun rays and the deep green of the trees, the wood brown of our porch making everything seem like we live in a campground. 

I failed at my garden this year. 

I had a baby instead. 

So did I really fail? 

The first two months were foggy, emotional, unorganized, and the third has been crazy busy. But somewhere in there, we've settled into routine and I'm smiling more than ever. 

That doesn't mean I don't sometimes still cry to my husband in the evening that I feel so alone some days and unable to get to places or things, unable to even put laundry away let alone fold it, or even finish some simple dishes and never get to vacuuming. That I can't just run to the library and find a new book to get carried away into, or easily go chill on my back porch, or make it to things, or even wear one set of clothes a day, or all my muscles ache from holding a growing baby boy and nursing. 

But it's a season I have more things to laugh and smile about than I do to cry and give up about. 

Because now I have a little buddy who always wants to be with me. 

Always watching me when I put him down and grinning when I give him my attention. 

A little buddy who holds my hand and stares nervously at me at the doctors, but giving me smiles, nervous but full trust in me, back.

 A little guy who will sit up in his stroller even though he's too young to be doing that. 

A little guy who has a love hate relationship with his books and prefers I read him a full on chapter book so he can look at me instead. 

A little guy who grins up at me when I check on him during the night. 

A little guy who gives us his life story with all sorts of emotion at 5 am. 

A little guy that already says “Mauum” For me when he wants me, without knowing what he's doing. 

A little guy who giggles so easily and smells precious after his baths. 

A little guy who loves church time and staring at everyone…

The list goes on and on. 

We are trying to do family walks in the evenings now. I realize I always feel the need post dinner to be outside and since giving birth, I barely get much walking in. It's a great way to refresh my inside-all-day brain, work on my physical health, and also get in those conversations with my husband and get to see all the other families walking in our neighborhood. We just keep looking at each other and saying in awe, “We are living what we've prayed for for years.” 

And it's so normal. So normal. And yet it's surreal. 

Somewhere in the midst of tired mornings and flour on the floor, piles of soiled clothes and my cheap dinner option, afternoon headache or occasional food issues again, God blessed us hard-core and while life never stays in one place long, I'm gonna embrace this season while eagerly enjoying each new phase - crying through them too, of course, and also feeling quite overwhelmed and discouraged other days, crippling mom anxiety at times… a husband who leads our family in Christ, a baby who smiles at the hymns we sing - it's all a messy beautiful life.