Firsts

I've never been a good journaler. There is a box upstairs with journals full of the details and observations of the first week or so of every trip abroad or major transition in my life. The writing always stops as soon as I am caught up in the adventure or normalized to my new surroundings. I had high hopes for recording Oliver's life and my journey into motherhood, but almost two months in now and I've barely recorded his milestones or the magical, emotional, and exhausting moments of caring for this new being. Not because it is becoming normal. On the contrary, it is because the every-waking-moment-job of figuring out how to be a mom has afforded me only a few minutes to reflect and record this journey (all my other hands free moments are spent cleaning, wedding planning, and if I'm lucky, catching up on self-care and sleep). Blogging is something I haven't tried yet, and since I type way faster than I write, maybe a blog is the best way for me to create a record of memories as Ollie grows up (this may be replacing my failing memory that is seemingly getting sucked out of my breast). So here is the start of my ramblings as Andy, Ollie and I evolve as a family on the farm.

Frost Valley Farm Camp garden and yurts.

I'm going to skip the introductions, because although I know this is a semi-public forum for recording my life, I have no idea who (you) the audience will be, and I am determined not to let that shape my posts and rather allow this blog to be a cathartic exercise and memento for me. 

Oliver joined me in weeding half a raised bed in the garden this afternoon. He slept snugly, wrapped in the moby while I raked and plucked dandelions from the soil until the bending and jostling coaxed cries from the little bean to stop weeding and start walking. The fact that half a weeded bed feels like an accomplishment is just another indicator on how much my life has changed since Ollie entered it. It took me weeks just to figure out how to do the basic things like eating and showering while taking care of my newborn. But now that he is a little bigger, a little less fussy and I am a bit more seasoned in mothering we are starting to get things done around the house and on the farm.

How can you resist being in the garden on a day like this?

Some days we do a lot together- like when I moved a whole stack of wood while singing to Ollie who watched while he stretched out on the porch. Other days he reminds me that he is only a little guy and needs my undivided attention (that sentence was my best euphemism for the supper fussy, "nothing makes me happy for more than 5 minutes" days). While those days of marathon breastfeeding and arm-tiring, non-stop baby bouncing can be more exhausting than tackling the wood pile on the porch, I still fall asleep feeling a sense of accomplishment knowing how lucky I am to nurture and watch as this new life grows.

Mama and baby enjoying skin-to-skin contact and sunshine.

As I write this Oliver, having recently discovered his reflection, is cooing and smiling at himself, his arms and legs wiggling and dancing. His fresh newborn-ness is as ephemeral as the trout lillies and trilliums. While the progress of spring is calling me to plant a garden and plan a wedding, I am continually reminded to readjust my idea of an accomplished day. At the top of my long to-do list is my most important job: caring for Ollie.