Running Out Of [Daylight Savings] Time

We fell back on Sunday morning. Not only did we turn our clocks back an hour, but our little household seems to have fallen back into the lethargy of colder months. The sun is still deceptively warm, but it's already set by the end of the work day, taunting us with its glow only when it's least convenient for us to step outside and feel it kiss our upturned faces.

It's probably a coincidence—we're busy, overwhelmed. Downright stressed. And yet, after just two days of daylight savings time, we've become more quiet, more still. Withdrawn. Hibernation—our form of it—is on the horizon.

The earlier sunset draws my focus to time and how quickly it passes. It feels a bit naive to remark it, but boy, I mean, really. Time is flying, punctuated by flutters and firm kicks in my swelling belly, which seems to be growing at a speed usually reserved for time-lapse nature videos. 

The thing is, I thought I would have more time. Not more than 40 weeks, just more time carved from within those weeks. There are so many things I have left to do, things that have little with preparing for this baby but that I feel I need to do, like reorganizing closets and that annoyingly-shaped cabinet under our kitchen sink. There are splotchy white patches on our bedroom wall that need to be painted.  There's the bag of summer clothes I've been meaning to carry to storage. I've been meaning to do it for so long that I can remember how much smaller this baby was when I set the bag aside. My back hurt less then. I'll let Colin do it.

There are so many things I wanted to do during this pregnancy. I thought I would take long walks alone in the September sun. I thought I would take a prenatal yoga class. I thought I would cook more (and eat less frozen pizza). I thought I would play piano—Shostakovich and Beethoven and Chopin—for the baby to hear. I wanted to read more books, to write more. I wanted to meditate.

We only have just over 100 days until our due date. I feel like I'm running out of time. 

I know I shouldn't be too hard on myself. As I write this, I'm sitting at our kitchen island with my journal beside me. I have banana bread in the oven. I can do some stretching before work. Baby steps, right?

23 Weeks

Tomorrow, I'll be 23 weeks pregnant. The little babe in my belly is rolling over, letting loose the stray fist or foot against my side lest we forget he or she is in there. File this baby's presence away with "things I didn't know the last time I blogged." 

I'm sipping hot apple cider with a cinnamon stick because it's autumn and you have to do this sort of thing in autumn. It's rather important.

I've been so consumed lately with planning for this little one's arrival in February that I've not known how to sit down at the keyboard to post here, but Colin pointed out about a month ago that the things occupying my thoughts are excellent fodder for this blog, and he's right—as usual. 

When we signed the lease on a two-bedroom, I always imagined that one room might someday be a nursery. Now that that's imminent, it's hard for me to picture. It's hard to tell what it will be like to have another person in our home. I worry that our apartment, which feels big for two people, will start to feel different, smaller. I don't want it to not be enough, because it's more than enough and it ought to be more than enough. We're only two. For now.

Before I was pregnant, I told Colin matter-of-factly that having a baby isn't about acquiring stuff. Babies are small, and don't need much. Less than we do. Since then, I've realized that the accumulation of all of these things—bottles and bibs, blankets and pacifiers and burp cloths and onesies, oh! so many onesies because you can never have too many onesies, right?—is really just a coping mechanism. I'm learning that you can't possibly prepare yourself for the experience of having a child, of being a parent. But you know what you can prepare for? Bottles that need to be warmed and diapers that need to be changed. Spit-up on your shoulder. Teething. And so you shop, and make lists for other people to shop for you.

I foresee replacing my mantra of less is more with more is more, of course! because what if the other four swaddling blankets are in the laundry, or wet?

It's going to be a challenge to be mindful. Here's to the journey.


Things That Matter: #1

It may seem odd for someone who’s spent the past year trying to jettison as many of her earthly possessions as possible to wax poetic about objects. This is a minimal pursuit, I promise.

I’ve found that after months of careful culling, curation, and very thoughtful accumulation, the things that are left are things that really matter to me. With each edit, I increasingly only own things that are functional or or add beauty, and that’s such a good feeling and worth talking about, I think.

Here are a few of the things that have been bringing me sunshine this past week:

This hourglass, a spontaneous gift from Colin, to remind me to take time to write each day.

These wooden hangers, just because we've finally purged enough clothing to have room for them. 

This candle, with packaging just as pretty as its scent.

This sheepskin, for keeping my bum warm on persistently chilly mornings when I sit down for breakfast.

These wooden beads that look so pretty on a formerly lonely gold chain.

Favorite Places in Miami Beach

Well hello there, stranger! I'm sorry to have been away, but the past few weeks have been some of the busiest we've known, in a mostly wonderful way. Most importantly, Colin released his first EP, Could Be Anything and I started a new job. We're both thrilled by all of the forward motion, but it's been challenging to transition into a new routine with Colin so busy promoting the album. We've both been trying to take some time to slow down and fall back in step with our usual rhythm.

I'm so grateful to everyone who's wished me well in my new job, offered their congratulations, and given me some really solid advice this past month. At the top of that list was the recommendation that I take time off in between the old job and the new. The week I took created some necessary space, and also gave Colin and me a chance to escape winter for a bit. 

Remember how winter was killing us slowly? We took a couple of days to make a quick escape to Miami Beach. There, sunshine, ocean breeze and a good stretch of our stiff winter legs restored some of our usual vigor. Also, cocktails and guacamole. So much guacamole. 

Anyway, I hope to be back to usual programming here soon, but in the meantime, here are some photos and a list of the places that delighted us most in sunny Miami Beach. Happy summer dreaming!

Our favorites:

Freehand Hostel Miami and the Broken Shaker, 2727 Indian Creek Drive
Doraku, 1104 Lincoln Road
A La Folie Café, 516 Española Way
Rosa Mexicano, 1111 Lincoln Road