Love, February 14th, 2023

Happy happy first birthday my happy little monster!

She woke us up in time for sunrise this morning (I’m going to assume she knew it was going to especially beautiful for her), and I’m writing this because i want to always remember this moment at 6 am, sunrise beyond the windows with cheesy love songs playing (we decided that’s her genre until she tells us otherwise, it’s what she gets being born on Valentine’s Day), my husband playing on the floor with her.

Life isn’t always easy, and love is too often complicated, even now with my little monster, but that’s what Love February has always been about for me, savoring these moments, these little things that pass by too quickly, like the sunrise that is already gone from the sky.

Anyways, I’m going to make us coffee. Until next time,
Love, February

Love, February 13th, 2023

We were all sick all weekend, Pie Guy and I taking turns napping and caring for Tigress… little kids really are a hub of germs.

But all I can think about today, is how it was exactly a year ago when I was bouncing on a yoga ball, drinking la croix (we bought it in bulk back then), eating cheddar chips, watching the movie Roxanne with Steve Martin, and just counting those contractions.

Tigress made us wait another day for her appearance, but the excitement of the nurse telling me that yes, this time it likely wasn’t false labor (I had contractions basically the whole month leading up), this time she was calling ahead to the ER for me, and her congratulating on me on making it, I can’t forget it. Pie Guy took a picture of me in my men’s sweat pants and dinosaur tshirt (not much fit by then), and I remember crying from excitement and pain, I wanted to meet her so much.

This year I nearly watched the Super Bowl out of nostalgia, going into labor Super Bowl Sunday meant that it was playing at the nurses station when we arrived, and watching the halftime show as I flipped channels in the birthing suite (epidurals are wonderful for pain management, but I still didn’t sleep as my daughter took her sweet time). (Pie guy brought his work laptop to work during those hours of stalled labor, he wanted his boss to have no excuse to contact him in the coming weeks) (him taking a makeshift paternity leave for a couple months was unprecedented at his old school workplace).

Pregnancy was not fun, muscle pain, hot flashes, insomnia, fainting spells, as well as that delightful all day nausea and heartburn (they say hairy babies cause heartburn, and my was my little monster born covered in fur) (she had tufts of hair at the tips of her ears like a werewolf my heart).

I was in labor for a day and half, but today a year later all I remember is the excitement of getting to meet one of the absolutely most important persons in my life.

Love, February

My daughter is still sick today, and now my partner and I both have scratchy throats too…

It’s been a long day, both of them went to bed early, so now I’m tired but taking in what alone time I can get.

Right now I’m typing this as I wait for my nail polish to dry, I painted them pink for Valentine’s Day. It’s a little thing, but painting my nails always feels luxurious. You can’t do chores with wet nail polish, you can’t be productive as you wait for them to dry. At most you can listen to a podcast or a movie as you paint them.

I feel a bit guilty, and not unashamed, that I haven’t written more this February. Writing is something I do tangibly miss, the way it helped get my words out of my head so I could move past overthinking them. But it’s been so long, much longer than a year, since I regularly sat down to write. I miss the me that would take every moment to jot down a line for a story, or any particularly beautiful thought. Sometimes (often) I’m afraid that in the busyness of living I’ve neglected parts of me that once seemed so vital.

Now all that sounds dramatic, doesn’t it! But I’d like to believe instead that it is part of me growing and moving forward, that there are other parts of me that I used to neglect that are currently being taxed with growth. I suppose this all will help me be a well rounded person in the end? Maybe. One can dream.

Love, February

Love, February 2nd, 2023

Love February ~ #1, 2023

When I think about what I love
Is it sad, my first thought, is what gets me through the day?

Not husband nor child, not philosophy or religion

It’s heretical
It’s down right shameful

How I love my morning coffee

Day 15

On day 13 I went into labor, and on day 14 little Tigress came into the world.

Still in the hospital, but both of us are healthy and so very happy.

I still can’t believe she was actually born on Valentine’s Day. The irony.

Love, February

Day 12

I love Agatha Christie.

I can still remember the first time I read one of her books (And Then There Were None). I stayed up until 3 am reading on an old, small chair in my childhood bedroom. I even got a nosebleed from the cold air as I sat up. I just couldn’t put that book down until I knew who the killer was.

I’ve read many of her books since then, some multiple times. I have a dvd box set of all the David Suchet Poirot series. I dressed up as Miss Marple for a comic con (only one person outside my group could figure out who I was supposed to be). I hand knit a Poirot mustache that I use if I ever need a last minute costume.

When I broke up with my first boyfriend in college, my mom told me to eat something good and watch a Poirot to feel better.

Strangely, Agatha Christie somehow has become a large part of my identity over the years. Not every one of her books is a classic, and there are definitely problematic parts to some of her plots. But her writing is comforting to me, like an old friend. It draws me in, with an effortless ease that I used to dream of writing with.

The BBC series of Marple and Poirot have been such comfort shows for me for so long, that the ads for the new Death on the Nile film have me thinking about my feelings for one of my favorite authors, about why I’m excited for a movie that I’m pretty sure won’t be very good (I’m a book purist what can I say, and I also lost my trust in Kenneth Branagh’s movie making some time ago).

Well, I’m going to stop myself before I start ranting again about movie versus book adaptations.

Love, February

Day 10

I know I’ve been rather awful about actually writing during this Love, February. But honestly I’ve just been so tired.

Between my pride in not falling behind at work just because “I’m the pregnant one” to my fear that I’ve become bad at contacting people during this insular pandemic life, I feel drained constantly.

I love my job, I can honestly say that these days. Are some days unnecessarily more rough than others? Is management run by idiots? Yes to both and many similar questions. But I enjoy the work itself, the long term relationships I get to make with people on their cancer journey, the fact that I get the privilege of caring for them and hopefully helping along the way.

And I love my friends. Many of my closest friends are intentionally child free, so I admit I was nervous they thought I was buying into the 2.5 kids and white picket fence ideal of life when I got married and pregnant so quickly. But their absolute joy since the beginning at getting to be honorary aunts to my child, their care love for me and unborn baby tigress has been nothing short of beautiful. I’ll be one of the first to admit that I prefer to be a caretaker than taken care of, so this season of nausea and fatigue has taught me how thoughtful my friends and family can be, when I give them the chance.

What do any of these random thoughts have to do with this song? When I saw Eric Nam in concert several years ago, before he sang “Love Die Young” he talked about how the song wasn’t about a romantic love, but more his love for his music and performing. The song is about his fear of burnout, of losing this love that was central to his life.

I get that fear, I’ve come so close already to burn out in my work as a nurse. I love being a nurse, but I’ve seen coworkers on the other side of burnout, and how little care they have left afterwards, for themselves and their patients.

Even with this baby coming, I get worried that I’ll get so wrapped up in this little thing I love that I’ll forget to pour into the relationships that have gotten me here, that I’ll forget the other parts of myself that have worked so hard to help me learn to love me.

So, in other words, “Please don’t let this love die young.”

Love, February

Day 8
Today the sun is shining. For the first time in a long time I went outside and sat in the glow.

There are many trees in my neighborhood, and the rustle of leaves mixed with the happy chirps of birds reveling in the soft earth.

I walked to the small church just a few blocks away, and interrupted a congregation of deer next to the parking lot. We stared at each other for a long moment, before one particularly clique-ish soul decided I wasn’t worth the time, and led the others in jumping away through the shrub. It made me laugh.

My own soul is so impatient today. It took all the sunshine and shading trees and singing birds and religious deer to stop me from longing for time to speed up, to get me to enjoy the moment that is today.

Let’s hope it lasts.

Love, February

Day 7

Ate tteokbokki and extolled the virtue of multiple Healer watches with a friend. (It really is one of the superior kdramas)

Love, February

I’ve been thinking a lot about comfort shows ~ the stories I keep coming back to again and again. Sometimes it’s a book, like a Jane Austen, a much loved mystery, or a fairytale.

Sometimes it’s music, songs that send me to a time or place I was at peace. There’s an album that transports me to springtime, walking down a sidewalk in a neighborhood I used to live, as the first flowers bud and the trees sprout fresh, green leaves.

There are kpop albums that have me back in my car, years ago, with the windows down, the moment as bright as the sun shining outside.

Even further back, there are the songs I listen to for the people who listened to them. When I listen to the Carpenters I can hear my mom’s soft soprano even more clearly than the lead singer. Old hymns too, remind me of her singing my sister and I to sleep. When I hear Antonio Carlos Jobim, Earth, Wind & Fire, Santana, (and many others), I can hear my dad plucking on his guitar, reminiscing about what bands had actual good concerts back in the 1970s. (Before meeting my mom he spent all excess cash on music and concert tickets).

I listen to Eisley or Tilly & the Wall to hear my sisters singing along with me. Of Montreal lets me see my brother’s exaggerated lip syncing as he drives. There are Disney songs, Danny Kaye musicals, and random songs of the Marx Brothers that my family can quote line by line. There’s probably even more that I’m forgetting…

To all the music, and all the memories,

Love, February

Day 4
I fell asleep on the couch after work.
Sometimes, sleep = love
Love, February

Day 3
It’s rather gray today, but I have my cats beside me. Obnoxious, needy, cuddly, stand off-ish. They keep my heart warm.
Love, February

Day 2, Love February

Day 1, 2022

It seems fitting for February to start with a celebration.

Happy New Year!

This past year frustration and joy have, at least for me, been mixed into the most unexpected cocktail of living.

I\’m excited and nervous and all around terrified for this year.

But I\’m making pho for dinner tonight (I simmered the broth all day Sunday), Pie Guy and I will eat oranges, and pray for the coming weeks.

I suppose I\’ve not told the news here, but we are expecting a chocopie to be born sometime in the next few weeks. Our little tigress is already as fierce as they come (at kicking me in the ribs).

Here\’s to the New Year!

Love, February

Love, February 2022 ~