After this past weekend filled with snow, drifts so high in our backyard that our dog leaps instead of walks, I look out the window to see that it is indeed once again snowing. It seems like for the first time in years we are getting decent snow; I can't remember snow like this since J and I first moved in together. And maybe for the first time I don't seem much to mind it, maybe because I am home most days with SG, not trudging out in it for work, or having to drive in rush hour with hundreds of other cars, all of them seemingly unable to drive in inclimate weather.
I bought a really lovely multiple season babywearing coat, I am just waiting for it to arrive in the post. At least this way we can get out and about, without the damned stroller that just gets stuck. Last winter she was tiny enough that I could fit her in a front carry underneath a cozy sweater, but now I have to toss her on my back.

It feels unChristmasy to me. Maybe it's because everything here is new, and we've yet to establish any traditions in our house. We finally put up our tree, just a few days ago. I think it will be important to continue that so that SG has a defined break between her birthday and the holiday. I know my parents have said they bought SG a lot of stuff, which makes me feel a bit eh. I don't want her to see this time of year as only being about presents. I'm just not so sure about Christmas in general. It feels exhausting. and unnecessary as we aren't practicing Christians, just raised in the traditions, so we don't know how to break them.

I feel rambly. I am waiting for my new wedding band to be shipped to me. I only know that I'm getting one because J specifically asked me to pick one out. It's handmade, engraved and hammered silver. The artist sent it to me, and it was a bit snug so I sent it back and now I'm just waiting. Makes me a bit nervous since I sent it at the height of the mailing season, that it's now lost but hopefully not.

I need to find a playgroup for SG. We are home too much.

I bought her snow pants and I know that my parents are getting her a sled, so at least we can go play outside a bit.

I don't feel well today. Queasy. And everything I smell makes me feel dizzy, nauseous. I'm hoping it's just the raw Kibbee my father in law dropped off last night.

for what it's worth

My husband bought me an E.E. Cummings book, Tulips&Chimneys. I think without ever meaning to, before I'd ever even read him, I wrote in a mimicked style of his. Loose words flowing, and the structured placement meaning as much to me as the words that I was writing. I miss the fluidity of writing, of a pen on paper for hours at a time. I miss having that kind of devotion to an art form, to my own art, to selfish hours spent quietly scribbling. My mind lately feels exhausted and for the most part, unused. I feel as though it's been a rapid descent into motherhood, that has taken away so many parts of me that I truly loved, and took a long time to discover. I never realized how much I actually enjoyed who I was until there didn't seem to be anymore room to be that person anymore.
I would have thought that over a years period, there would be a settling of the dusk around me, that I would have fallen gracefully into motherhood. Instead I find myself struggling, and feeling like I could not have chosen an unwiser path for myself to follow. Maybe it's because I see so much of myself in my daughter that she makes me ache and that she is exhausting as I am. I love her more than I have the actual capability to describe, but I worry that it's not enough for me. I want to badly to be happy in my daily life, I don't want her growing up with a depressed parent, but I don't know how to detach myself from her and still be the parent that I want to be. I honestly wish I knew how to go to work and leave her in daycare, but the thought makes me feel sick to my stomach.
I feel like I am just waiting for change. and waiting. I just don't want to spend all my time waiting and not enjoying it.