sleet, sick, baby books, the red tent and a 4 day weekend

SR is off of school again today. No sleet, but school illness. He has been great, but PN feels as though he is infringing on her turf AGAIN. The senseless bickering that goes back and forth is not good for me when my red tent is pitched and I am trying to protect steel wool rubbed nerves.

DH has drill this weekend. Bwahhhh....

I am also trying to continue to pack.

As excited as we are about the move, it has been hard to imagine the time has actually arrived.

Going through belongings has been difficult in some cases. The pregnancy journals, and baby books a little hard. I thought I had resolved all of the melancholy feelings around that time, and I have still seem to have some left over sadness and longing.

I was looking at photos of me in a hospital gown, nursing PN and telling my husband via phone of her arrival.

I have mentioned it here, we had waited 10 years into our marriage to consider pregnancy. God blessed us almost immediately after we had started.

I looked through the photos, and recalled my longing for DH to be here, and be involved, the wonderful things he missed. The difficulty of being a single parent. And I realize I am no the first person to manage that, or the last. I do not think I am trying to be a martyr, or my own damn cheerleader.

War is as old as humanity, and sometimes necessary.

When I recall those feelings, I must also recall my own strength. and no this is not one of those self congratulatory posts. I did not make it through without a hitch. I did not make it through without scraped knees, a bruised ego, and frankly I fell flat on my face a couple of times.

I did manage it. Even if it was one minute at a time, which frankly on some days was all I could muster. So when I look at the photos, of the Collective as infants, most of them are taken at arms length with half of my face, some are of an infant learning to walk or stand alone.

And we managed.

I learned I am a very capable person. I am a stronger person than I would have thought.

*I cannot help but think about moving in 10 years, or perhaps 20. I cannot help but wonder what I will think about circumstances later...*