..are probably waiting for an update.  For birthday pictures and school reports, but I’ve been languishing.  Something is in the air and I feel  cagey and restless as I puzzle out what exactly is in the air after all.

Is it Eric’s job hunt and the knowledge that his ultimate wish is that we move locations?  Maybe.  But I’ve lived with that since 1999.  Is it Cadence’s birthday or the start of another school year and feeling like third grade is a very big girl when second grade isn’t?  Is it the change of the seasons or the worry about the dog or just the need to shake things up?

I’m never sure.

Do I suppress my nervous energy or do I run with it?  Do I stay up late and exhaust myself in a flurry or activity or go to bed, understanding that an early morning is coming no matter what else I choose to do?

The family is good.  Eric and I are great, but something is moving in the air.  Can you feel it too??

(and it’s not the stupid election or the stupid economy before someone suggests that……)

Yeah, it’s been a while.

I’ve been struggling lately.  I have this abundance of creative energy and I feel like I’m not able to properly outlet it.    I fight with what I want to against what I have to do.  I’ve spent hours planning the girls fall outfits, plotting fabrics and patterns and when it comes time to execute, I feel blocked.  Like I can’t.

Same with scrapbooking and knitting.  I seem like I’m swimming around with no real way to vent the creative buildup.  It’s so frustrating.  I can’t even come up with anything to blog about.

Personally, we seem to be at a crossroads and it’s time to pick our path; trying to balance what we want  to do against what we should do.  We through out arbitrary time lines just to force our own hands.  And, I kind of hate that we end up doing that, because they’re big decisionsbut we’ve hit a wall in so far as making the decision, so throwing these time lines like a little kid bargaining with God (If I don’t step on any cracks for a week, Bobby Smith will ask me out!).  If we can’t make a decision by THIS time, then THIS is our obvious choice and we nod emphatically and wait to see what happens with baited breath.

I’m sounding vague and i don’t mean to be.  I do know that we’re likely to change our minds a dozen times before we pull the trigger on anything, so rest assured I’ll fill you in when I can and know that we’re all fine.  Nothing earth-shattering is happening, but as is obvious, making concrete plans about your future and making long term commitments can be difficult and confusing.  Particularly when they feel conflicted and you’re hoping  for things that are totally opposite.  I’ve always had faith that we’ll be where we need to be doing what we need to do, but sometimes it’s hard to give up the idea that you just need to follow your path and hope for the best.

Summer is drawing to an end.  I know it’s a month before school starts, but I feel like I’ve missed it.  I always hope to create for Emily the incredible carefree summers I used to have, but I can be so neurotic that I’m afraid that I’m not creating something carefree that I’m scheduling and running to the point where she’s not feeling that freedom.

I remember waking up early on summer mornings.  I’d sleep at the foot of my bed becuase then I would lay right under the window.  It was always misty and dewy in the mornings (and my Neighbor who probably had the world’s greatest imagination would tell ghost stories about a ghostly blue mist that wound it’s way through our neighborhood and sometimes I’d stare out the window, hoping to catch her, but I never did) and the day smelled so fresh and clean and full of possibilities.  Today, on our way to run errands, we drove past a group of kids, pre-teens or early teens, sitting in a circle on the sidewalk.  There were a couple of boys and a couple of girls and I remembered so well those summers, of our co-ed groups with tiny, pointless drama filled semi-romances.  Sitting under the neighbor’s deck, listening the bass on “wild thing” vibrating the awning under a friend’s porch, the musty smell of my parent’s old tent that you could pack four girls into for a sleep out, the tangy smell weeds gave off as you hiked through them and the mossy smell of the woods.

Those kids reminded me of us.  A co-ed group.  A few girls, a few boys.  Before sex and hormones and high school got the best of us.   I don’t remember when we stopped hanging out as a group.  It was so subtle.  I went to high shcool, someone else made the cheerleading squad, someone went from being a pain the butt to bad news, someone else moved away, someone became too young as the distance from 9th grade to 6th grade became just too big to overlook.  We found friends we actually had things in common with besides our houses being in walking distance.

But there are songs and moments when I’m drawn back to them and I wonder if they ever think of me.

It’s nearly midnight. Eric is snoring blissfully in bed. Emily is snoring blissfully on the floor, having watched Monster House tonight and scared herself and Cadence appears to be sleeping mostly blissfully in the coveted “monkey in the middle” spot. We’ve tried to transition her into her own bed, but she’s not that interested and my heart isn’t in it yet.

But, I’m awake. Cadence has been asleep for a full two hours now. The first night in two nights she hasn’t been waking up every ninety minutes looking for a meal, and still, I’m up.

2006 was mostly a good year for us. It started off rocky. We did find out about Cadence very soon, which was a major plus, but the move and the job change in combination with my Mom’s health made for a stressful month. No doubt about it. Moving from there to here was painful. Physically at times, but we maintained that this was the best thing for our family (the three and now the four of us) and it really was.

In the spring, Eric changed jobs again; unhappy with the way the job we left Michigan for was panning out. My anxiety was finally coming under control, just in time for my morning sickness to take off. I threw up lots of stuff for several months and bemoaned the horror of just never feeling good. I could hardly make it out of the house in the morning and one afternoon, nearly threw up in the bushes when I felt the overwhelming urge to spit because of post nasal drip.

Look, I’m not really much of a lady, but I don’t spit, save in the privacy of my own bathroom during teeth brushing, so the fact that I felt I had to spit was something in and of itself.

May rolled around and Emily finished up Kindergarten, not without a battle about peanut allergies and what that meant to the school, her and us. Her kindy teacher? Not very helpful. Apparently she can’t monitor what kids bring in to eat from home and asking her to do so is unreasonable. The principal and the school district, though, were much more helpful.

The summer rolled in. I worried about Emily’s dealings with the neighbor girl, but it was all for naught as she was hardly home. Instead, Emily befriended the Mexican boy behind us (and it took us ALL summer to figure out his name and that was only after Eric had a conversation with his dad ;o)) and the little girl across the way. There was lots of drama at times, but Emily had the kind of summer I hoped she’d have. One with friends and playing out in the yard and eating freezie pops and all of that good stuff.

If I had been less pregnant I would have done more yard work, but I digress.

And Eric changed jobs again. My grandfather informed me that he needed to stop changing jobs because it was stressing out my parents and while I did apologize for that stress, it’s just a part of who Eric is and I’m just not going to squash that. I said, as long as he left a job for a new job, I was fine with it and I am. The grass is a heck of a lot greener where he works now and he’s happy, which is really all that matters.

In August we went on vacation, had a blast and I turned 30.

In September Cadence was born. There really aren’t words for me to describe the joy she brings all of us. Emily is a wonderful sister, so caring and concerned. Cadence, I think, is like a living, breathing baby doll and Emily’s sweet sensitivity suits her position well. For Eric and I, it’s a return to something we loved so much. Parenting Cadence is different than parenting Emily. Emily’s babyhood was fraught with expectation and worry and brief, bright swatches of joy. I loved (and still do love) Emily intensely. Hardcore. Neurotically. I’m learning with Emily. Cadence has the great benefit of my age and my experience. Cadence’s babyhood, I believe, will be marked by patience and surprise. I realized six years ago, that milestones, reached early or not, won’t mark how smart your child will be or how well he/she will do in childhood and probably not in life. Emily is an amazing child, with a quick mind, amazing vocabulary and fantastic analytical skill. It doesn’t matter anymore if the kids on babycenter rolled over before her or after her. She is what she is. And, having learned that, I’m Joe Cool with Cadence. She’ll roll. Sometime. She’ll laugh. Sometime. I’m in no hurry for Cadence to cruise past her milestones. I can tell by her sweet smile and bright eyes that her thinker is working just fine and by her full body smiles and batting hands that her body is just fine as well.

I wish I had known that the first time around.

This fall has felt like a gift. Really. Not just Cadence, but everything. My mom’s health teeters at times. She’s had more surgeries and, as I write this, is back on chemo. But, we’ve had good visits and she’s gotten to enjoy the girls. Dad and the sibs too. And my great grandmother has met her second great-great Granddaughter and my Grandpa thinks Cadence might be the prettiest baby he’s ever seen. Emily still believes in Santa Claus and Cadence likes shoving the nubby hat top of her first baby doll into her mouth. My husband loves me and he’s happy and I’m happy and, damn if things don’t seem nearly perfect.

This time last year I was shoving 2005 off with both hands. Begging it to leave fast and to leave now. I’d had enough. I couldn’t bear another moment of it’s crap. 2006 was nearly all I could have hoped for, save a clean bill of health for my Mom. 2007 seems to have great potential as well.

Happy New Year. Bring it on.

Maybe we clean, maybe we don’t. We don’t mind a little clutter on the floors or counters. We eat leftovers. We play with our gifts. We snuggle in together. It’s peaceful and quiet and wonderful.

Dinner yesterday went well. I think I cooked for nearly four hours though. I told Eric next year, I think we’re going to order from the Honeybaked Ham store. Eric loves cooking a big feast and it was good and the whole family loved it, but it’s a lot of work.

A LOT of work.

But I did get to have green bean casserole for breakfasts, so maybe it’s all worth it?

I’m going to be spending some time examining my motiives in regards to Christmas. Something my therapist said last week was that I do a lot of stuff to get approval.

And she’s right.

I could sit here in the living room and probably list off 10 things I did, not because I loved it, but because I wanted the kudos/accolades/recognition for it. Emily’s halloween costume is one.

She wanted a poodle skirt. A simple to sew poodle skirt. I could have BOUGHT a nice poodle skirt. BUT, that wasn’t fancy enough/big enough/impressive enouh so she got a custom made princess dress (that I talked her into) with fur lined collars and beads on the neckline and I hated sewing it, but felt smug becausee MY litle girl had a custom halloween costume and doesn’t that make a good mother?

That’s just one example, but it’s a good one. So, I will be taking stock, again, of Christmas. Of what I love to do vs what I’m doing to get my June Cleaver/Donna Reed mother of the year award and those things, I’m not going to do anymore.

I’m not making crafty gifts for friends anymore. Sorry friends. I ordered from Harry and David this year. I spent 30 minutes on-line sending everyyone gifts that they liked instead of the house I spent last year altering a score of paint cans filled with–you guessed it–homemade goodies (candles, cocoa, ornaments).

I may or may not make my Christmas cards.

Just lots to consider.