Big Country

Before Jeff and I had children, we had talks about how we would raise them. Birthdays would be a big deal, we’d spoil them at Christmas but not too much, and we’d raise them in the country. We would give them a childhood much more like Jeff’s than mine.

Jeff and his sisters and cousins rode four-wheelers all over the place long before they could drive. They could ride their bikes down to the old country fill station without ever encountering a car. Hours spent outdoors far outnumbered hours spent in. I, on the other hand, lived in a condo in Decatur, Georgia. There was no yard, just a public grassy area that several condos surrounded. There were shootings down the road and only one neighbor we were friendly with and me being outside unsupervised just was not going to happen.

We could have chosen a happy medium and settled our family down into suburbia, where we lived before we moved up to the mountains, but staying a weekend up here and then going back down there . . . things quickly became clear for us. We couldn’t stand wasting our time in traffic, or paying too much money for a house that only looked out onto other houses. Driving through the towns meant seeing strip mall after strip mall, interspersed with chain grocery stores and industrial parks and buildings. When we first moved up here I constantly was amazed by the views that followed me everywhere I went, on daily errands, or gazing out of the kitchen window. Every night we are treated to sunsets that never cease to move me with their beauty, things I never seemed to see and appreciate before.

I’ve never once regretted giving up things and places to get those things in order to live out here in the mountains. We once said we’d much rather have a small house and acres of land rather than a huge house on a tiny lot. Now, we have a perfect sized home and we still get to experience North Georgia at its finest. Being a part of these tiny towns, with produce stands populating the sides of windy mountain roads, historic homes and buildings still being used for their original purpose, fields of farms housing old and aging red barns, it always feels like a blessing.

Just to be here.

Overcast

My aunt is dying.

She is my mother’s brother’s wife and she has been dying for some time, I suppose. She was diagnosed with COPD some time back and has just been slowly sliding downhill ever since. Every once in awhile there has been a dramatic dip and a scary shift and every time we would wonder, is this it? Is it time? She would pull through, however, and go on in what is now her new normal. Her new normal is so sadly different from her old normal and I don’t she can reconcile the two and I don’t think she’s happy. We’re at that weird stage where we start to wonder what we’re even hoping for anymore.

It was like this with my grandmother, my mother’s mother, the first Faith. She was diagnosed with cancer, given six months to live and ended up making it for ten. Towards the end she viewed everything as a chore; eating, walking, sitting, talking. She told me that “this is not living” and, oh how I loved her and it made me happy to just breathe the same air as her, but I knew she should go and I knew that was what had to happen. It broke my heart, it eased my heart. It’s impossible to describe the overwhelming sadness but the slight relief it gave me when she passed.

I’ve been thinking of my grandmother a lot recently. This whole thing with my aunt is bringing up these old feelings and it is summertime, which makes me think of being with my grandmother in Savannah. It was always happy times with her. I was never bored; I never had to be constantly entertained with expensive toys or activities. Just me and my grandmother in her tiny house, going on walks, or running errands, playing checkers, reading books, doing crosswords, and talking. Always talking, all day long. Those were some of the easiest and happiest times growing up.

This never fails to hit me like a ton of bricks, this passing of time. It seems like there was never this life before Faith and James, yet there was. I was the child, my aunt was young and vibrant, my grandmother was healthy and alive and my friend, now time marches on and people start to drift out of life.
Yet the memories are there. I can only hope to pass some of those on to my children either by voice or by action. I can channel my Granny, laughing hard and deep and raspy, getting on the kids level, appreciating them, and appreciating little parts of life.

Smartening

The past couple of months have been surprisingly hectic. I thought that by no longer working and only having school that I would have so much more time, but . . . eh, not so much!

When I haven’t been delving into human anatomy and physiology, which is making my brain overheat and steam up a little with all the thoughts and memorization and conceptualizing of complicating miniscule processes, Jeff and I have been spending every free moment doing SOMETHING. We’ve been to Tybee Island a few times; we’ve spent weekends with friends and some with family. We’ve cleaned the garage and built a fence (I use “we” very loosely on these last couple of things) and I’ve studied and studied and so on and so forth. Occasionally I’ve absorbed some sun and spent some quality time with my new treadmill and there has been the junk food of the television world that I like to watch mindlessly while I check out of the real world for short periods of time.

Suddenly, it’s June. Gone is May, one of my favorite times of the year, and I have to try hard to remember parts of it though it is near enough behind me to still glimpse it in my rearview mirror. I want time to slow down a little bit. These are the last months before Faith is in pre-school, seriously this time around since last year was more of a trial run. I wanted this summer to go on and on since winter stole too much from us and I looked forward to sun-induced freckled skin and sweaty lower backs and seeing my children’s tiny legs skip in the grass while the sprinkler sprayed them. I wanted to laze in the yard on a lounge chair while the kids played “jenny and jeff” in their little house in the backyard. I wanted to read more books and listen to more music and write some of the trailing stories that have been knocking around my brain for the past few months.

Instead, I am learning about the human body and the understandably and amazingly interesting minute cellular processes of every small and large thing that we humans do. It boggles the mind and it takes up a lot of time. And while the sun is shining, I’m sitting in a classroom that has a breath-taking view of the north Georgia mountains, trying not to look outside for fear of my mind being captured and swept away into the blue yonder.

No, I Don't Have Any Shame

My mom was talking to me on the phone yesterday and she asked what it was like to start this week by not going into work. I told her it felt wonderful but at the same time it was like I was forgetting to do something. It's an odd feeling, to not have to BE anywhere. One of my classes is finished for the semester and the other one is online so I don't have to be back in a classroom until the second week in May and until then . . . ho hum, diddle dee. I suppose I'll sweep the floors and play with the kids and read some history and RELISH EVERY SECOND OF NOT HAVING TO WORK!

The major drawback is, of course, not getting paid anything anymore. So there's that added guilt of wanting to get a pedicure this week and then wanting to show off those freshly polished toes in a new pair of taupe heeled sandals, which I've been eyeing online. I'm sadly up a few pounds and after dropping those in (hopefully) a couple weeks or so, I'd like to get a new pair of jeans. Or shorts. Or AND shorts. Unfortunately, I'm not actually contributing to the family bank account anymore so either I take some of the tax return and treat myself and play dumb (and sneaky) or . . . I owe Jeff some "favors". And no, I'm not above that.

Unemployed

I quit my job. I walked into Dysfunction Junction one sunny day and gave my notice, telling them that I was making school my focus and I just wouldn't have the time to devote to work anymore. They were sad to see me go, but not angry, and offered me a place to come back to if I ever wanted to. Now it is Sunday evening and I don't have that grudgy feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know what I'm talking about.

I prayed for it. For the moment. For when Jeff would say, "Yeah, Jenny, we can swing this". For not spending my hours in a place that I didn't want to be. Now, for the first time my hours at school will be spent on a specific matter that I've invested myself in. I'm working towards a career and not a job. I'm so filled with purpose right now that it's a surprisingly easy feeling to incorporate into my life. I'm happier spending time with the kids, more patient as a tackle whatever incredibly important thing that they need me to at the moment, knowing that all my time will be distributed between things that I WANT it to be.

It's funny looking back on all the wants I've wanted this past year. There were some job opportunities I prayed for (begged God for is more like it) that didn't pan out. Now I see why. I wouldn't have been able to have those jobs and go to school. It's like I say "A-ha!" and a voice says "see?".

So I quit my job. Ever the Jenny I of course took off two weeks before summer semester starts. I need to have a little time off. Right?

Throw your hands in air, say oh-yayer

The past three years or so have been hard. We sold the house we loved and moved across the state. Since then we’ve had to live in places we didn’t want to and take jobs that we didn’t like. We were “past” those places, but forced to still exist in them. James was born in the midst of all this and the one bright and shining reason why I wouldn’t want to just entirely block the past three years out of my life.

And suddenly, the sun is shining. Everything is so bright that it’s like a straight blessing directed at us, showing us that good things come to those who wait, those who pray, those who have faith.

We live in this incredible house that’s already more than that, it’s already our home.

Jeff got a new job. It pays more money, he enjoys it more and he’ll have every weekend off.

I’m still at my job (still waiting on a miracle there) but something even better has happened. I got accepted into the nursing program. One out of 110 accepted out of 1000 that applied.

We have money in the bank. And clothes on our back. And plenty of food in the fridge. And finally, something shiny in the future.

Happy happy joy joy! (Ren and Stimpy throwback.)

A Resolution

Right now I am drinking coffee, cozied in my completely pilled-up grandma-ish type sweater, and in my office! Or computer room, or the room where everything has gone that doesn’t yet have a place (hence a frightening mound of blinds that seems sort of dangerous to walk around). This room has a giant window that looks out towards farmland and right now it shows a world covered with snow. Here in the south, snow is quite infrequent so its arrival is A Very Big Deal. There is non-stop news footage of flurries, announcements of school closings before anything is even sticking, but I’m all for it. I missed work yesterday for the snow and ended up spending half of the day in my pajamas getting caught up with my television habits and apparently that was exhausting enough a task to warrant a two hour nap with James later. I am ashamed of my laziness.

:::

So, nine days into the new year and I’m finally going to write a few words about it. I am not a resolutions type of person really. I make wide generalizations that leave much room for interpretation or error, things like “be a better person” which, really, is rather silly. Does that mean to give to the homeless or not yell as much or do twenty more sit-ups? I don’t know. So I got a little more specific this year.

You see, there are things about my life that I don’t really like, even though I love my life. I don’t like having to work, obviously, and I don’t like the struggles with money and the predictable pitfalls of having both cars suddenly give out or some other technical difficulty that really screws with day-to-day life. However, I can deal with all that. I can make the best of it. What really bothers me at those moments where I get all mopey and melancholy is how I’ve spent my time. I see other people (or read about them) who have work and kids also but also spend time devoted to fitness, or some other hobby. Women who actually make real dinners and go shopping for bargains and read books and throw parties. Women who take their kids to the park, museum, restaurants, home to make crafts. Women who take the time to WRITE.

I suppose my resolution is this – take the time, or make the time, for the things I love. Stop doing just enough to muddle through the day, stop doing just enough to keep up with the house, keep the kids fed and clean and then the day is over. Do more, or do it better, or whatever it may be.