For Her, For Me

It had been months since I sat in front of my sewing machine. July, actually. The machine collected dust in the corner and any and all projects in the queue sat, neglected or forgotten or undone. I had ideas about this and that; a quilt, a knit hat, a new t-shirt handstitched. But these hands, they remained idle. Well, not idle but tapping out work or turning book pages or wrestling the young boys that fill so much of the hours, those precious ones that are open.

A huge factor in availability of precious hours is work. I think that is the norm for a working mother. A shift to a 5 day work week has rippling effects, it intensifies demands, crushes them into those precious hours and I find I choose making dinner over making 'something'. I find myself on the floor with Lincoln Logs rather than seated at the machine, watching them rather than myself.


There was a shift last week though, both boys sick after a return to the germ haven that is a small children's school. Tim caught the awful bug, my Mama came up against her own health issues, work lightened up. I found myself home more than not for the week. It was an odd feeling, so many hours open and not devoted to work. It felt good.

I found myself pulling out new fabrics, letting the quilt I have been imagining take root in color and shape and design. Math and measure and cutting table. My mind had space for it, even with the demands of small people and one big not feeling well. It felt luxurious.


Over the weekend I was able to pull together the quilt for my newest niece, born 3 weeks ago. I had started a simple red and white 9 patch for her, saw it joined in almost windowpane fashion. The blocks were pieced, sitting in the pile marked 'neglect'. But then she came and pictures of her (and a surprise name switch when she was born) and suddenly she was not Rose but Avery.

I spread the blocks out on the table and saw something else, saw Avery in it and started slicing away. Which is kinda' scary when you have already spent some time piecing together all those 9 patches. The result looked nothing like the initial concept. But then, little Avery is here now, a person who could not be imagined until she appeared and started to share that self.


(Some of it is wonky as all get out but the slicing and piecing improved with each block. Quilting, such a learning curve).

We meet her this week; travel North for job interviews, relocation logistics and then Friday, baby smooshing and kissing. I am so happy to go bearing gifts for her, something that carries all the love this whole household has for her already.

And so, onward to this week. Change is afoot, I felt unsettled and excited and hopeful and so damn scared when I glance around and imagine moving. But the time at the machine? It centers me. It is not the sewing, really. It is the making. The way making something makes me feel. I feel more real. And now the real Me has to move onto hand sewing the yellow binding that Tim suggested.

And when I get back from the Northern sojourn I have this nifty 'newly re-purposed' cabinet to organize and stack full of fabric. The man can do more than pick a wicked binding.

I Told You So

Be careful what you wish for, that is what they say. I understand that statement so truly right now. I am feeling the strain and push and pull of it all, and it is not a bad thing, but it is definitely a thing.

The last weeks, well months, have held great change for us as a family. It was a change I needed, was grateful to welcome. The two years with the boys seems to have whipped by, those precious early days distant, the struggle of developing toddlers, now children, more present. I still feel like I can embrace this phase of Mama-hood better than the beginning, but I thought I would appreciate the time out of the house, the back to work feeling.

Hmmm, it is not as if I do not like working. I actually find it quite rewarding. When I do it right. After being out of the 'workplace' for years, I am finding the transition hard. Harder than I thought. The good thing is I work from other peoples' homes. The medical part is not hard, I can say I have yet to do anything wrong to the patients I am seeing. The organization, juggling of patient caseloads, keeping current on the now totally computerized system (built of course by a non-PT but very thorough individual that thought they understood my job)...those are kicking my ass.

There is so much involved in carrying a full caseload, so much more than I remembered. There is also the aspect of working from home and trying to finish it and get back to the boys and be there. I am trying hard not to quiz Tim every time I get in, ask about their naps, their food, their fun. It is not that I do not trust him, just that I am so very used to knowing. And, yes, controlling it all. Right now I can tell I am not handling all of my roles gracefully. But it is getting better, wee bit by wee bit.



Where last week I had no desire to even look through my blog list or try to communicate with the outside world, now this week I had time to catch a few reads here and there. Where last week creating seemed forced, this week I find myself reaching for yarn and fabric.

I would never ever say that being a stay at home Mama is easy. It is not. But it certainly afforded me a bit of luxurious time to create and read and craft and dream. My dreams of making are not gone, just a bit more jumbled and disjointed. The once clear lists of projects I wanted to tackle are now subsumed by lists of patient paperwork I absolutely have to finish.

I am so glad I can use all of my skills to earn, to make our lives run smoothly, to give my husband the opportunity to fall more in love with them, and let them revel in having their Daddy daily. It is the perfect time for him to step in. The baby part is done, we agreed he would have been less than thrilled with some of the daily aspects of that time. Now is the time of rough and tumble, dirt and trucks and bikes and constant play. Now is the time of action, an action he is providing wonderfully. And the slight knife-like feel when they call Daddy before Mama. I can take it.



You know what assuages the sticking a bit? A serviceable paycheck, figures that I have not seen in years because I was pretty busy with what I will always regard as my most important job ever. It helps to make real money again, but I miss my days with them. Will always miss them. And will try to steal a few more here and there before those boys really go and grow up.



Ah, this parenting thing. Gets easier and harder all at the same time.