It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

I am a reader; I always have been a reader. I was reading books all on my own by the time I was three years old, and I've never stopped reading.

Except for that I haven't really read any books not intended for babies, since June.

Day three of thirty: A Favorite Book

One of the best things about being a new mom, is experiencing all of the nostalgia. I find myself wrapped up in Sesame Street and Mister Rogers, and reading the books I loved as a little kid. I buy vintage Fisher Price toys instead of newfangled plastic crap. I asked for used books at my baby shower and have read old Care Bear stories all summer long. I love that my baby's toys are in my grandma's toy box, and that I can cuddle Grant on the couch and watch Jungle Book to my heart's content.

From almost the first day home with Grant, I've made sure to take a few minutes during bedtime to read him a story. And it has been my absolute favorite. I love to pick out a book among my favorite oldie but goodies, snuggle up on the couch, and read out loud - Grant likes to look at the pictures and turn the pages, and I like to make silly voices and attempt not to stumble over crazy Dr. Seuss rhymes.

I love books, and I love that Grant already loves books. I love that I can take him to Powell's, sit on the floor with him, and thumb through a Curious George adventure before picking out some of my old favorites to buy and take home to add to his bookshelf. I love that I'm the one who reads to him - whether I have to get up early or go to work or take him somewhere or leave him home, at the end of the day, I get to put him in his jammies, snuggle him up, and read our bedtime story.

And I am fairly confident that a time will come that after he falls asleep, I will be awake enough to curl back up and read my own book.
An adult sized one.
One with chapters.
And big words.
And no pictures.

I'm pretty sure someday that will come again. 

Until then, though, for today my heart is thankful for my favorite time of the day, snuggling up to read a story to my baby.

#adventureswithmynugget

I don't know if it qualifies as a freedom if you don't earn any income the whole time and so technically you're too broke to do anything, but I am really, really grateful that I was able to take 18 full weeks off of work for maternity leave...

Day two of thirty: A Freedom You Have

Not everyone is able to take 18 weeks off work without pay.

In fact, most people are not able to take 18 weeks off work without pay.

And in all reality, I should probably not have taken 18 weeks off work without pay.

But I did.
Because I could.
And because I wanted to.
And because my parents were able to help me do so.

I think what it boiled down to, was that I was able to pay my rent and car payment in advance and save up some money in the months leading up to my maternity leave, so that Matt only had to earn enough with his summer gig to pay for our more minor expenses - groceries, cell phones, etc. And I knew ahead of time that as long as I could save that extra, pay ahead on rent, and be smart with saving what I could ahead of time, that I would be free to take an extended maternity leave and not have to go back to work the very moment I could roll my mangled body out of bed.

My maternity leave was not free.
It wasn't paid.
In fact, we just did the math - before insurance, if we include the absence of income, it cost well over $50,000 to carry and deliver Grant, and then for me to stay home until October.

Was it difficult? Oh yes, very.
Was it worth it? Oh yes, very.

We will take two years to fiscally recover from my four-month "vacation" as someone called it today. Two years. To recover our savings, pay back my parents, and see my gross income and taxes back to "normal."

And yet, it was worth every hardship to come, to spend those 18 weeks at home with my new baby.

I have watched far too many of my friends go back to work only six weeks postpartum. Six weeks?! At six weeks, I could literally barely walk to the mailbox, let alone come back to work. At six weeks, Grant was still snuggling through every nap, eating every five seconds, peeing through diapers in between each of those five seconds. More importantly, he was still making a new sound, a new movement, a new face, every time I looked at him. And my hormones were OUT. OF. CONTROL. I could never have just missed one of his new noises; I'd have likely died.

Six weeks is not even remotely enough time to heal - physically or hormone-wise - and go back to an office 40-50 hours a week. I can't even imagine. I had a hard time coming back at 18 weeks.

But six weeks is the sad reality in America, because our employers don't pay for our time off to bond with our babies. The second your vagina is sort of back in place, they want you back at a desk. It took a lot of planning, scrimping, and compulsive list-making for Matt and I to get a plan in place so I could take the time off. It was certainly not "free" by any stretch. But today, my heart is definitely thankful for the freedom to take an extended leave, so I could be home to adventure with my nugget.

And Then I Puked on the Floor at Chevron

I located this graphic online while searching for just the right 30 day Instagram photo challenge, and felt it would make for a great 30 day BLOG challenge - and since I am clearly a blog failure these days, a bit of competitive motivation may just be the ticket to get my wheels turning again.

So with that, here we go...

Day one of thirty: Someone You Love 

It is hard to narrow this down to just one person I love for whom I am grateful...which is of course, not a bad problem to have. At this point in my life, I am simply surrounded by love - one decision I feel that came instinctively the moment Grant was born, was the decision to only surround him with love. The fact that this means I too am only surrounded with love, is a happy result of the decision I made on Grant's behalf.

I am, of course, especially grateful for Matt, with whom I now share my home, my life, my before-bed ice cream, and my baby boy. He has definitely demonstrated to me that at the moment in your life that you are ready for someone or something, life has a way of delivering. I wasn't looking for Matt. I wasn't looking for anything or anyone; I was existing happily in my world, working my ass off, starting fresh with a new job and a new apartment, in a new city...technically even a new state. And what was intended to be a casual, friendly plus one to a wedding, has turned into 14 months of complete transformation, and what I can literally only describe as bliss.

I think that part of the experience of real love is someone providing for you what you didn't know you needed. I have always been fiercely independent, and I would never have been consciously aware that I would be in need of something that I couldn't get for myself. I never would have thought that by escorting me to a wedding as a family friend, Matt would change everything about my life, and all for the better.

I am still the same fiercely independent person, with a pretty strong desire to do what I want, how I want, where I want - but the past year has taught me that being with someone who loves you, doesn't actually take away from that. Matt helps me make decisions, but he never tells me what to do. He weighs in, but supports my choices. He is considerate, thoughtful, engaging, and ultimately helps calm my brain as it spins off its top.

Most importantly, though, Matt is right by my side - always - as we successfully raise our tiny human. And so today because it is my blog topic (but every other day because he's awesome), my heart is thankful for Matt.