family unit

Eliana has a new obsession with family units. She likes to talk about the people she loves in relation to the rest of their family. The holiday picture of some of our old friends from California is on the fridge and Elie loves to take it down and name everyone in the picture. She talks about them like she just saw them yesterday, when in reality we saw them a few times over scattered, overcrowded park visits. She talks about her cousin Piper and then immediately says, "Chickie Bum Bum" the word my sister Wendy whispered in her ear in December. How she remembers these people, let alone that they go together, is beyond me. She talks about Jiah, and then immediately mentions his brother Solan, mama JoJo and daddy Bob. She says, "Nanapoppopruby" like it's one word because the unit of Jeff's parents is so clear in her mind. Her favorite 14 year old Dessa is immediately followed by Julie, her mom, and Chris our friend who works in the office next to her mom. Weird. Smart. Very, very smart.

Which brings me to thinking about our little family unit. We have finally found our groove. It's a rough start on a couple, the incredible, all-consuming presence of a child. While Jeff and I are both very busy and our daily lives are full of "the revolving door" parenting method, in which one parent comes in, while another parent goes out, we are still managing to find time to really revel in being a threesome. This past weekend we spent the entire day of Saturday together. It is, sadly, not something that happens very often. We cooked together. Went to the park together. Hiked together. Dyed easter eggs together. Went to the nursery together. Put laundry away together. Put Elie to bed together.

It was a really, really beautiful day.


The post-spring break days for a teacher are in some ways the toughest. The excitement of a new year has died down, the long winter months are over, and the days are getting sunnier while the exhaustion level increases. The end is near, yet not really. Two months is a long time.

But last weekend got me thinking about the summer and how much time our little unit will have to be together. Teaching was the first job Jeff and I had. I was 22 and he was 21. We met, ridiculously enough, in the teacher's curriculum center in a big, overcrowded public school district. We only know the calendar of the school year. It's our rhythm. Our pulse. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

So for now, I'll concentrate on slowing the swinging door, continue to make plans to spend whole days together, and be full of gratitude for a husband and a child that I adore spending this precious life with.