I’ve been sort of a crazy woman this week. Cleaning non-stop, nesting I think it’s called. Although I’ve never experienced it before, since both of my children came early. I was totally unprepared with The Tortoise, a surprise delivery almost 9 weeks early. The Hare kept me on bed-rest for 6 weeks before being delivered at week 36.
But this feels like nesting.
There are house-training books all over the den, “baby” toys lined up in the mudroom and we even made a couple of “receiving” blankets. I have turned into the anxious, giddy mother-to-be all over again. Of course, now it is worse. Worse because before yesterday, our new addition was just conversation. Before yesterday we had no tangible connection, just a general idea of what she was going to look like. This must be a small fraction of what adoptive parents go through as they wait for “the” phone call.
At 12pm Thursday afternoon, we got the phone call.
“Mrs. Wilson – would you be available to come in at 2:30pm to meet your new puppy? The breeder will have her here by then.”
The girls and I rushed around packing our “bag” with any goodies we thought she might need. Although we were going to get to meet her, she won’t be coming home until next weekend. Of course we left the house too early and circled around the street a couple of times. Then we filled up the rest of our time at Tim Horton’s, giggling and glowing about what she might look like, or what kind of personality she might display.
We glided into the salon. Faces beaming. Arms wide-open. The moment she was placed into my arms, her little tongue started tracing the curves of my face. Her soft paws batted my cheeks. I was in love immediately, but filled with worry already. Fear of failure tried to darken my day – I really need to stop being my own worst enemy!
I remember having these same feelings when my children were born. What if I screw up as a parent and that screws them up as adults? I’ve read dozens of books on parenting, discipline, daughters and self-esteem. I keep looking for the one piece of advice that is going to make it all “click” and suddenly make more sense, give me more patience, help me find more wisdom. But as we all know, there is no magic, just consistency and hard work. That’s true in anything that is worth doing in life.
This blog has become one of my children. I am constantly worrying that “I’m doing it all wrong”. Everytime I read an article or post about “blogging tips”, there is a moment of panic when I see all the things that I am not doing – I actually started thinking about going back through all of my posts and re-tagging them! My newest neurosis is questioning what my blogging “theme” really is – how can I tweak everything to revolve around a central idea and make it more cohesive? I started to re-read many of the posts yesterday. It’s starting to become clearer, I think that without trying, there truly is a theme. Albeit, loosely designed, a little haphazard at times, but definitely defined. It’s called life.
We are all just living one day at a time – worried about our families, stressing about our futures, grieving over loss, and celebrating our joy. I look for blogs that connect me with the writer, but also help me see myself more humanly. Blogs that give me those “ah-ha” moments, help me to laugh a little more or feel a little deeper.
And although you are probably chomping at the bit to know what we named our puppy, you’ll just have to wait a little bit longer.
I’m such a tease.