‘Sup, girl?

Unless you’re really trying to be happy on purpose, it doesn’t happen.  Doesn’t it seem like it’s supposed to be a natural state?  One that comes easily?  It’s weird.  But then again you probably already know how I feel about the word happy.  

One of my favorite alternatives to the H word is creative.  Creativity makes me feel alive and motivated and dare I even say happy.  Creative+Happy=Crappy.  Wait, what?  Back to the point.  Imagine my delight in realizing how to make my past experiences and education(s) totally relevant in the present moment.  People have repeatedly suggested writing and photography as careers since I dabbled in both creatively in the past and really enjoyed them.  Both options really do feel downright crappy (in the classic way).

I consistently come up short when asked why I don’t want to work on my hobbies and pursue them professionally (but the pit of doom that appears in my gut is certain it’s not an option).  Until recently, that is.  Now I recognize it’s too much pressure, which turns into a fear that I will either fail miserably or be robbed of any smattering of creative energy I have left with babies running around.  It’s damn hard to come by creative time these days, even in the form of a fancier-than-usual dinner or (god forbid) time to paint my toenails.  

Anyway.  There’s immense relief in discovering something that brings the rest of your past “things” together.  It’s an elusive feat for people like Tim and me; the experiences in our back pockets are diverse and seemingly disconnected.  It’s been a constant, decade long struggle for Tim to find work in which he feels like his passions and experiences overlap and he finally found that niche working with the migrant student population.  It saved him, in a way, because it made his time and energy long ago spent seem valuable and significant today.  It’s so important to feel like what has been invested wasn’t wasted.  

So what’s my thing?  Well, I haven’t made it happen yet, so I won’t get the cart ahead of the horse, but I met a vendor at an Arts Fair last year who does brilliant, beautiful work with meaningful literary tidbits and I’m dying to get my hands on any part of it.  She and I hit it off immediately and I’m sure she doesn’t remember me, but I won’t let a little thing like a faded memory get in the way of doing something that makes me feel like I’m awesome.  Puh-lease.  Stay tuned.

In other revealing news, Tim and I are down to baby clothes totes to complete the entire house pare down project.  We learned some pretty awesome things about ourselves along the way, namely the emotions behind the things we hold dear and the reasons we keep them.  We also learned that we want a smaller house (so un-American, right?) and more land OR walkability to be able to cut to one car, so we will be listing the house this Fall after a few more projects are wrapped up. It may sell, it may not.  We’re not really in a hurry since Tim is teaching all semester and maybe beyond that.  But we’re putting it out there, which is our usual M.O. when we want a change.

I know, some all of you are making exasperated faces about the thought of us moving again.  Except maybe my cousin, Kylie.  Parents, don’t worry, we won’t ask for your help again.  If we do buy another fixer upper, we will do it ourselves or hire it out.  We have a lot more faith in ourselves and what we can handle these days.  I mean, just last weekend Tim took off the toilet, fished out a travel shampoo bottle that was stuck inside the tank (thanks, Silas), replaced the flange and wax ring and had it working again in no time.  BY HIMSELF.  I was super impressed.  I think he was, too.  Needless to say the toilet now has a lock on it, so if you have to pee when you come over, just remember to allow an extra thirty seconds to try to figure out how to get the lid open like we do every. single. time.

Tim is loving 2nd grade life!  He goes 2 days a week for the rest of the month and then takes over full time until November.  He already made a girl cry and he’s only been there three days.  It’s been nice having him home before five every night, I must say.  Maren is still colicky in the evening, although she’s hinting that she might be down with an 8 o’clock bedtime the last few nights.  Woop woop!  It’s been nice having a wingman to play with Silas and help with bedtime every night.  

So that’s about it for our thoughts on life these days.  I intend to take some pictures of our babies tomorrow since they are three and twenty-one weeks this week.  We nearly have a 2 year old.  It’s freaking me out.  



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