No matter how tardy I am about updating, eventually there's that little pull that brings me back here. I'm just a journaly, bloggy person - sooner or later.

In all fairness, I have been writing. My program is more intense this semester than last and I'm still writing the article. I've reduced it to two-three articles a week now, so I can keep up with my school work, but it's still happening. I'm trying to crystallize the plans for my pipe-dream which is a novel. I talk to my husband about it. I try to pick his English PhD brain apart for ideas that make a good story. Even if it never happens, I like the conversations we have about it. I get enthusiastic, he smiles. It's nice.

Life after SSHRC - Fella and I spend our days together - he reads, I write, we make tea. I ask him for help with grammar structure. He reads out the interesting passages in the work he's reading. Wee man is still in daycare four days a week, though we usually pick him up early (I think he has a little girlfriend there. It's very cute). It's like another world. We don't have to worry about making payments, buying groceries, flying home. We aren't rich, but it's just - easier. We can start to save for the house we've never let ourselves think about just yet. I think we're both still holding our breaths in hope that the other shoe doesn't drop. The first few months here were so hard.

But no errand shoes yet.

Ottawa gets so much sun. Would you hate me if I complained that it was too much sun? We've gone through two canisters of sunscreen this year already and it's only halfway through June. In Newfoundland, I'd buy a can of sunscreen and it'd rust past its expiry date in my medicine cabinet. Our entire little family gets up every morning to coat ourselves in SPF 60, but we still show the evidence of  exposure. My makeup doesn't match my face anymore -- I'm going to have to buy new stuff. I put foundation on this morning (I don't wear makeup every day) and I looked like a geisha. I have more freckles on my arms than I have since I was a kid.

I complain now, but I'm sure I'll miss it. I do like the walks. I walk at least an hour every day. 20 minutes to daycare, 20 minutes home. Usually 10 minutes to the store and back. Yesterday I put wee man in his red wagon and we walked for two hours. I bought him a fruit bar and he picked a dandelion for the ride. I'm sure I could walk to China and he would sit in that wagon without a peep. He loves it.

I understand now why a lot of people have their second baby when their first child is two (no,we're still not having another). At two, they're sleeping through the night (probably), they're feeding themselves for the most part, they walk, they climb, they communicate a little and, by and large, they're really frigging adorable. Wee man is going through a "hugging" phase. He wants to hug everyone. He hugs me and his father a dozen times a day. He tries to hug the cats. He hugs his stuffed animals. It's just - love. He can really show you love in a meaningful, independent way. He climbs onto my lap, I tell him he's a good boy and the contented cuddled smile he gives me is enough to make my heart explode. I caught him singing a tender song to his stuffed animal the other night. Everyone talks about how awesome and amazing a baby's first smiles are - but I was never really convinced. How things are now, this is it for me. This is the why.  

You spend the first year of a baby's life giving so much - hoping you're doing it right, never really knowing if you are. And they start the blossum so much - it's a flash. And they love you and you love them and it's all so much easier.

I'm sure this is all coming to me now because A) it's Father's Day and B) wee man's birthday was 10 days ago. His first birthday, it was like "Yay! We survived!" but at two, he's not a baby anymore - and I'm getting some major nostalgia. Can you get nostalgia for two years ago? Well, I do.

The day before wee man's second birthday, I saw a very pregnant lady at the grocery store and I filled up with tears. At that moment, I missed being pregnant more than anything, and I SWEAR I almost ran up and hugged that woman (thank God I didn't, eh? Probably the last thing she needed). You think you'll remember what it feels like forever; the little kicks and baby stretches and hiccups. It becomes so ingrained in your body -- it literally leaves marks, but you start to forget. You lose the shape, your stomach shrinks, the marks fade and your body goes back to ignoring that part of your physiology.

The first night after he was born I found it hard to sleep without feeling him there. It might sound crazy, but after having constant contact and feedback from a wiggly little being, it's lonely without them. For about a week, I'd wake up in a panic because I couldn't feel him before I'd remember that he had been born. Now he curls up on my lap and I worry about what I'll do when he's too big for cuddles. I whisper "you know, you still have to give your mother hugs, even when you're all grown up." My husband assures me that he will, but I worry.

Anyway, this entry has gotten rather lengthy and there's no real, um, point. I guess. I just felt like writing something that wasn't an article or a technical writing proposal.

We're coming back to Newfoundland for two weeks next month. A month from today, actually. That will be nice. Very nice. We're looking forward to it.