Building a Nest: June 2010

Everyone says it. They grow up too fast. It's hard to understand until you're witnessing your own child barreling ahead toward adulthood. That first year is also just so mind-blowing. The changes and the advancements that happen in such a short time are seemingly impossible. From complete and utter physical (and emotional) dependence to happily moving about the house...with or without you.

Stella is standing by herself for at least 30 seconds at a time now. OMG, OMG, Erik and I say back and forth as she teeters and wonders why we look like the dog just talked. And that's what it's like when she says something on purpose - it's like watching the dog talk (as a friend once said).

She waves and says, bye-bye. She says, Mama. She argues with me. She points when we ask her, Where is the kitty? The fan? The kiddo? Mama? Daddy? Do you want to take a bath? Where's your belly? Nose? Mouth? Home? We are home.

We are home. We took this old house and made it into the only place our child knows as "home". She sweats because she's a Texan and it's hot. She loves locally-grown watermelon (as a summer baby should). She loves refried beans (organic...). She hears and responds to Spanish all day. I love all of it. I am so at home.

I love the big city, but my Texas roots start screaming out during the summer. I can't get enough blue grass and twang, cobbler, BBQ, Willie Nelson (and his annual 4th of July picnic), the lake, the river. I love how this southern humidity makes my skin feel so, well...sticky. Supple. I love the people stopping me every 5 steps with their strong Texan accents - "Would you just look at that baby? Good night, she's beautiful!". Oh yes they do. Every five steps. I love that my daughter is spoken to all day long by all types of people. Rarely ever are we ignored on the street or in the store. The charm and friendliness come in gallon jars out here. For free. No tip required.

And the heat. Somehow I love the heat. The radio broadcaster chuckles as he reminds us that it's still spring. I have taken to my summer habit of picking up a novel. I just can't help it, kids or no. I have to have my summer affair with a novel, accompanied by lots of iced tea. It doesn't matter that I literally read no more than 4-10 minutes at a time. At least it's a taste. It satiates my literary hunger. More about my book choice later.

For now, for today, I focus on how sincerely happy we are. What a contrast from when we first moved here. I was pregnant and regretting this house and this neighborhood. My mom died, and with her, a large part of my own heart and happiness. But now, that is the only bad thing that haunts me. And it haunts me. Now that I have the maturity to understand the complicated life that she lived, now that I have the wisdom to understand what matters in life and what doesn't, now that I know the total miracle of motherhood, she is gone.

But she is in every bite of salted watermelon. She is in every vase of fresh cut flowers. She's in this Texas heat, the only state in which she ever lived. Everything about Texas. Everything about summer, and all seasons - she is there. I wish I could have seen it before. I wish I could have treasured our similarities in this way before. The Texas house wife. Now I know.

We celebrated Erik's birthday at a cabin with our very good friends Patti, Tony and their baby Cecilia (she is just 10 days younger than Stella). We celebrated Patti and Tony's birthdays, too, as they were right around the same time.

It looks like we were miles and miles from home, but we were only 45 minutes from Austin (if that). Lost Pines is truly "lost" - a crazy stretch of beautiful tall pines out in the middle of the Texas Hill Country. And I was shocked by Bastrop State Park. I can already feel the tradition coming on...