Somewhere during the chaos of a new baby and a renovation, my sweet husband lost his mind. And I know him well enough to know why.
Our finances were low. Our future? Not secure. The house was over budget, The new baby would not. stop. crying.
And did I mention we were living with my godfather? The man of curious curios (all breakable)and fine art, and a guest bedroom that also houses a baby grand piano. (My middle girl, Tess, has the distinguished privilege of being able to say she slept under a baby grand for three months of her life.) Stress times four.
Only I wasn't stressed. I remember that time and a warm kind of tingle spreads across my body. The coffee was hot. My laundry was done and folded. I watched my children set against lovely gardens and amazing baubles. They shone like stained glass. My babies bathed in a tub, red ceramic, from Italy with a german faucet. Fancy doesn't do it justice.
And the house? OUR house? It was being bettered. Fixed up. Fancied too. I went there all the time and marveled at the beams and paint and new kitchen backsplash.
My baby cried. But I nursed her. And her crying helped the other two adjust. I can't explain it. I think it was because she was flawed and that somehow made her newness not so threatening. Whatever it was, it was a golden time.
I'm not afraid when we don't have money. I'm not afraid when we don't have OUR stuff around us. Nothing scares me but being without my family.
I'd live with my husband if we had to live in a van. As long as we parked it in a meadow. And as long as he wasn't yelling at me.
It doesn't take much for me to feel like things are perfect. In reality, perfect's already been here and then gone.