I have already documented how having a baby has changed the way my wife and I interact in a previous post. Tonight I noticed another strange thing we do.
My wife and I have known each other since high school, or more accurately, known OF each other since high school. We had many friends in common, but were not particularly close. I would have called us good acquaintances.
So it is with great confusion and joy that we have come by this picture, courtesy of our friend Michelle.
Warning. This post has no real narrative structure. Nor does it really have a particular point. I was in Mexico for five days for work. I took some low quality pictures with a camera phone and thought I would share them with some poignant observations.
Sarah and I have been parents for almost five months and have many of our routines solidified, including loading up the car to go on a trip, even if it is just across town.
The other day, I had securely fastened my daughter’s car seat into its base, let my wife in, and closed her door. I jumped in the car ready to go, when I saw what initially appeared to be a large fly buzzing along the inside of the windshield. Upon further inspection, I realized it was not a fly but a bee. I am allergic to bees, so I did what I had to do. I left my wife and child behind. As I assessed the situation from the safety of the outside world, my wife began to scream, huddled inches from our daughter’s face.
The bee had moved to the back seat of the car.
I valiantly opened the back door and with sheer force of will (I was not actually going to get near it), shooed the bee from the car. It flew away to terrorize another family, and I got back in the car, still processing what had happened. It went by so quickly. I put the car in reverse, when from the back seat, my wife cried out again. “It’s still back here!” I jumped out, opened the door again, and reassured her that the bee was gone.
At this point, Philomena was crying, and Sarah was shaken, hyperventilating. So, minus the bee, it was business as usual in the family car.
I plan on writing an actual blog post tomorrow before I leave for Mexico. In the meantime, I have a picture I want to post. I could not think of a good reason for posting it (not that it necessarily needs a reason) but figured I would give it some purpose, so here goes.
This Wednesday will mark the end of my first year back in college. It has come with challenges, but overall, I have found it very beneficial. It has kept me busy, and therefore I have had to remain motivated and focused on the goal. The daily goal of doing everything that I can in my power to provide for my family. Beyond that point, it is all in God’s hands.
My wife and I recently became my wife, daughter, and I. We have had to adapt to this new reality. Leaving the house is more of an ordeal (though not too terrible). Eating dinner at the same time requires good planning and some luck. I get the camera out for pictures more than I did before baby. All these were expected, but there is one new aspect that was not. My wife and I now speak through our baby.
I have been meaning to type this out for awhile now. This is the fifth year I have made a mix of music for friends and family. I get the sense some people appreciate it more than others, and that is okay. I have fun making it and sharing it. That is enough for me. If you are reading this and want a copy, let me know. I may already intend on getting you a copy, but I have just been busy with a small child for the last few weeks. So without further ado, here is the playlist.
God’s will. My wife and I regularly pray for it to be done. Not that I consider it lip service, but I think most of the time His will and mine have been pretty close in proximity. It is when they diverge that life becomes difficult. The week before my daughter’s birth was difficult.
The end is nigh. By mid-December, I will be done with my first semester’s worth of classes. I have not written much about going back to school, as I have devoted the last few blog posts to being the more sentimental version of myself. It is time for the snark.