2001-12-06
Have I mentioned lately how much I love our new house? I was just sitting out on the deck, looking at the lake. Even when inside, the feeling here is so much different than in what I think of as a regular house. When B's brother was here over Thanksgiving, there were long stretches where we each did our own thing; somehow, I know that this would not have been nearly so pleasant at our old house. Here there is so much light, and though the square footage is nothing spectacular, the two-story living-dining room, enclosed mostly with glass, just makes everything feel so open. It really does feel like being on vacation.
Of course, I am on vacation. Or something like that. One of my coworkers who was on maternity leave a year or so back joked about our big boss referring to her leave as vacation, taking mock offense at the suggestion that giving birth and caring for a newborn might be characterized in such a way. And I get that, but now, feeling pretty much fine and having all this unstructured time, does feel pretty vacation-like.
I have enough to do, enough chores that I really should get to that time spent not doing them feels a little indulgent. Also, B is fairly swamped with work at the moment, so having him toiling away in the next room contributes to my sense of indulgence. I feel a little defensive, kind of like, Hey, I deserve this!
Today's mail brought yet another package from B's family. His mother sent a mix of baby items (a couple of hooded towels, a few odd cloth diapers, some colorful nylon bibs), a couple of boxes of crayons and two Xmas coloring books with tags indicating they are for B and me (???), and some snowflake ornament-decoration type things from Hallmark.
The piece de resistance, however, was a red felt Santa suit, complete with hat, that she'd made for Christmas 1960, when B was seven months old. She also enclosed two photos of him wearing said outfit--talk about cute!
�
�