Signed into the old blog today (ETA: two weeks ago actually, when I began this blog post). Had to blow off about an inch worth of dust and the WordPress login page creaked upon me pressing enter like the sound effects in the first few seconds of Boris Pickett’s Monster Mash, but here we are.
The post Dusty thoughts. appeared first on Tales of Me and the Husband.
Signed into the old blog today (ETA: two weeks ago actually, when I began this blog post). Had to blow off about an inch worth of dust and the WordPress login page creaked upon me pressing enter like the sound effects in the first few seconds of Boris Pickett’s Monster Mash, but here we are. Hi! Hello. What does one say after quietly stepping away for close to a year? Ya know what, let’s not be too melodramatic about it. After all, I still had Instagram. Let’s just begin.
We’ve had a big chunk of winter, spring, and a summer since I’ve been gone in which much life was lived. It was the first winter that I chose to like, and something about that actually worked–until like February, anyway. Year two of gardening took place (zinnia and tomatoes are the stand-outs this year) and another trip to the lake and the Jersey shore (where I captured one of my favorite moments ever–bump right a few times for it in video form; worth it), lots of food cooked–most of which is escaping my mind at the moment though I did make that viral Tiktok baked feta pasta the other day when I found myself with an abundance of garden tomatoes that I didn’t want to waste (it was good), lots of books started, emphasis on started, lots of anxiety and sadness felt (you too? I’m betting.), and lots of quiet, reflective moments of deep joy too. The kids are older–Nathaniel, 28, Jordan, 26, William, 21, Lindsey, 19, Parker, 10, and Anders 6–nearly 7, taller, and the ever changing landscape of parenting is still, well, ever changing. I’m homeschooling again, year two, and am deep in teaching Anders to read which is at times infuriating and also a total gift. I’ve never really taught someone to read, so how cool to do it with the caboose of the Hunt family. Parker is working independently quite well in ways he didn’t last year, head down in his language arts or math while I go over the various functions of the silent “e” for Anders. I still occasionally, when they’re playing nicely, exclaim, “who’s your best friend?!” to both of them and have the cockles of my heart positively warmed to the max when they each shout back the other’s name. If there was ever a time to use that cockles of one’s heart phrase, it felt like this was it. (There’s a lot of fighting too. I don’t ask them that question during those times.) I’m plugging into the homeschooling community this year in a way last year didn’t allow for, and the boys are, right now, running through the woods with a few other homeschooled kids looking for edible mushrooms. Hopefully they’ll remember enough to teach dear old Mom when the world really goes belly up and those edible mushrooms are our dinner.
The world feels fraught with division, but you know what? I don’t want to address any of it right now, right here. It’s everywhere. Who wants to read about it here? If I could see through my screen I’m suspecting that there would be a collective raising of tired hands, tired eyes, and a quiet sigh of relief. I was reminded over the last many months, that people are still good, really good. Beautiful interactions are happening at every single corner, every aisle of the grocery store, so on and so forth, but we’re not reminded of them often. By way of most media? Almost never. In any case, I’d like to send love to those for whom the last year was a real bear. Can I do that? I know there’s many of you, for various reasons, and so–however one sends it, receives it through space… please know I’m giving it.
Steve and I are coming up on 15 years of marriage. 15 years! This is shocking to me, but also a really comfortable thought? No pretense, no drama, just really good friends, lovers, and partners in this wonderful, crazy life. I’ve heard marriage gets better with time, and, in my case, this has proven to be true. While, of course, we still drive each other crazy, the nice thing about being married this long is that I know I’ll like him again. Big fights early on–those fights where you literally don’t like the person you’re married to–left me feeling insecure: I don’t like this man at all. In fact, I might even hate him. Oh gosh. What does this mean? Now I know it means very little. Love runs deeper than all of it and I’ll like him again soon. What a beautiful discovery. And so it goes. I’ll be 37 my next birthday, also shocking, but feeling like, if my skin were an outfit, it’s a more comfortable one all the time.
A favorite season is upon us, where every day, every drive, every walk is a literal feast for the eyes. Outdoors is calling to me, White Mountains are calling to me, it’s all calling to me. I’m pulled to the third floor to check some homeschool boxes, but let’s not overdo it during this once-in-a-lifetime season that, seemingly against all odds, we get to experience every year. If I don’t publish this post soon, one that I’ve been adding to and removing from for the last two weeks, it’ll be winter. Leaves gone. Then I’ll have to start from scratch.
The boys are tall, tall, tall. Legs growing longer overnight. I look at them when I wake up in the morning, while they’re still deep in sleep and I wonder, “did their legs stretch that close to the end of the bed when they went to sleep last night?” When does the growing actually happen as I have eyes on them nearly every moment of their precious lives? I don’t have the answer, and so it goes. Anders was recently despondent for various reasons only a six year old is despondent. Big feelings, the brink of tears, overtired, and trying hard to hold it together, I asked him, “do you just need to have your love tank filled?” It was like you could see the weight grow lighter immediately. He sunk into my chest and said, “thanks for asking if I needed my love tank filled.” I think we all could probably use that right about now.
I’ll end with a quote from the amazing Ram Das that I’m certain I’ve used here before, and one I use frequently enough that now my sister teases me with it, knowing just when it’s on the tip of my tongue with a deep sigh as it has been during many a conversation over the last many months: We’re all just walking each other home.
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