He sent me this picture to announce his arrival.
Between the tail end of a stomach bug and Matt's absence, I spent most of Thursday morning wallowing around Nessie (our home) in indulgent self-pity. After only one episode of House Hunters Renovation, I'd had my fill of stillness and a headache from the boredom.
I had been so excited to recuperate and be still for four days. To have a Netflix marathon. To watch all my Meg Ryan movies back to back to back. To not move for several hours. Instead, I found myself cleaning the windows while staring at the landscapers blow leaves around the parking lot. By the time their bags and leaf blowers were loaded in the truck, I had a realization:
Nothingness is not in my genetic make up.
I am Sue Swanson's daughter. Sue Swanson's proverbial plate is always full. Sue Swanson is a doer. She is in motion until it's time to drink a glass of wine and watch half an episode of the Biggest Loser. Even then she fast forwards through the interviews. Sue Swanson does not have time to "watch fat people cry." She has a bedtime and needs her 6.5 hours of fitful sleep so she can get up and do some more tomorrow.
Peggy Nawrocki, Sue's mother, has to be told to stop cleaning the kitchen and come eat her supper before it gets cold. Peggy Nawrocki will wrap your Christmas presents, wash the stack of plates in the sink, and make your bed, all while your back is turned.
And Elizabeth Rowley is Peggy's mother. I don't have any memories of my great-grandmother, but I do know she had four children and lived on a farm. Given those facts, I can assume she too was a doer. Up before the sun, raising children, making breakfast, dealing with chickens.
All of this is to say, the women in my family are productive. It's in our nature to notice that the orange juice is almost out or that the floor needs a good sweeping. We find peace at the bottom of a pile of clean clothes, in a well stocked fridge, and in the full bellies of those we love.
If this is the reason I can't wile away the hours alone on the couch, then that's fine. I'm proud to have my mother's busy hands and my grandmother's eye for order. And while I can't sit and watch TV for long, I CAN stand and watch TV while covering a pound of pretzels in chocolate.
And Elizabeth Rowley is Peggy's mother. I don't have any memories of my great-grandmother, but I do know she had four children and lived on a farm. Given those facts, I can assume she too was a doer. Up before the sun, raising children, making breakfast, dealing with chickens.
All of this is to say, the women in my family are productive. It's in our nature to notice that the orange juice is almost out or that the floor needs a good sweeping. We find peace at the bottom of a pile of clean clothes, in a well stocked fridge, and in the full bellies of those we love.
If this is the reason I can't wile away the hours alone on the couch, then that's fine. I'm proud to have my mother's busy hands and my grandmother's eye for order. And while I can't sit and watch TV for long, I CAN stand and watch TV while covering a pound of pretzels in chocolate.
Fine by me.
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