Scary Realizations

Have you ever thought a thought only to realize that thinking such a thought really was unthinkable? That's a lot of thinking, especially in my current "fragile state." It really wasn't my fault, though - all this thinking, I mean. It all started just the other day when Lambchop #1 innocently asked a devastating question. She looked up at me with her big, blue doe eyes and asked, "How long have we lived in this house?" That's what got me thinking the thought that really shouldn't be thought. It really was best to ignore the issue at least long enough to move out of this prefab hole-in-the-wall that was used to house refugees over 30 years ago house, which was only meant to be temporary.

So, having been asked the question and no longer able to remain in denial, I had to supply an answer. It was easy enough to calculate, since we moved in not long before Lambchop #1's first birthday. She just turned five. The math was pretty simple, really. It was the coming to terms with the answer that was hardest. FOUR YEARS! To give you an idea of the significance of that, I'll relate two little details about my life:

1) Anyone and everyone who ever steps foot into our home marvels at my bravery (I'm not joking or exaggerating here. I'm like a pioneer women on the famed Western Frontier to them. Why, just the other day, my mother congratulated me on having been able to handle it for so long.).

2) After sitting down and calculating it out, I don't believe I have ever lived in a "permanent" home longer than the four years I have been here (the only possibility was in Oklahoma where we may have stayed a whopping four-and-half years). In my life, I've moved over 20 times. Sometimes it was within the same city, but I have changed homes at least that many times (oh, yeah, and I'm only 31).

So, the fact that we have stayed in this so-called temporary home for as long (or almost) as I've ever lived anywhere is a frightening bit of reality. And, just so you see the inner strength I must have developed: I didn't even cry - not even in my current "fragile state" (I love that pregnant women have traditionally been considered fragile - cracks me up when I think that if men had to carry children and deal with all the hormone surges, we'd probably be working on World War X by now - probably best to leave the hard jobs to the women, doncha tink?).

And, a totally unrelated (but always appropriate around here) side note: I've almost finished the second little brown baby sock. I'm halfway done with the toe, and if I get a moment to sit down and knit tonight, I should be able to finish it up. Also, I am pleased to announce that Lambchop #1 is extremely proud of her new hand-made wash cloth. She used it for the first time last night, and Daddy told me she couldn't have been prouder to show it off. Go figure. With all the sweaters, ponchos, etc. I've made her that she turned down flat, she's proud of the wash cloth it took me a few hours to make.