7 3/4 months pregnant (if you go by the weeks, anyway)

It is 70 degrees outside.

My mother has the heat set on 72.

Beggars living in they mama's basement can't be choosers, but have mercy, doesn't she remember what it was like to be a walking furnace? Almost makes me want to move to Pittsburgh. Almost.

the nature of the restless.

sometimes i look over this website that lists children that are up to be adopted in various places like the Ukraine, and one little swaddled girl's listing said, "has light brown hair. The nature of the restless."

we have some things in common, baby M and i.

i will keep her in my prayers that the right family finds her.

A place does not save you. There is no place where you can flee from yourself.

-St. Nikon of Optina

Perspective.

I must first say that my grammar is atrocious and I hope whatever readers I have can look past that. Moving on.

1. People are basically the same everywhere. The rednecks of Alabama are just traded for other working class folk in the North. Their accents and dress may differ, but they have much in common. There are truly awesome people in Pittsburgh. This doesn't make up for the fact that I want to fling myself off of Rachel Carson Bridge every time I cross it. There are truly great people in Birmingham. The best. I'm sure there are good people in MD, too, we just don't know them yet. (well, M has one or two guy friends and I have assorted friends in the area).

2. Living in Frederick would mean our girls would get an incredible education.

3. Family is all that matters.

4. That said, I don't think it's all that irrational to consider moving to istanbul.

Making the home you have the one you love.

But I feel like I don't have a home. I feel like my heart is beating out of my chest all the time. Anxiety is at an all time high. Our belongings are scattered amidst my family's belongings in our new basement apartment in my parent's basement. We.are.out.of.our.minds. We are also house poor, and this seems to be our only current option. It is impossible to know what to do with all of our crap. It is impossible to know how to make peachy beige walls covered in holes and pencil marks appealing. Our things are stacked in cardboard boxes and there is nowhere to put anything. My baby slings and some of the new baby's clothes are hanging on the bow rack in "nursery" (bows, sans arrows, still attached). Mostly it is just Flannery's playroom/junkroom. She is still sleeping on the floor beside our bed. Right now, in fact. And all of this, it is for her and her sister. So that we can better care for them, so that they can have better opportunities.

But we have a home and we have each other and we have to be thankful.

God willing, the house will rent on time, we will save enough money to move and have a little in savings, and we will learn how to live with a lot less. Which, if we move to MD, will be important. I hate Pittsburgh, so it's off the table entirely.

I try not to cry when cleaning up our house that looks amazing now. New carpet. Freshly scrubbed hardwood floors. Newly painted kitchen. Newly painted everything. Grey, because it is my favorite color and considered a neutral. People would be crazy to not want to live there. I've put so much work into a it, and that's what hurts I guess. I feel like I've lost an animal. I hate animals (in the sense that I never want to own one. I mean cats, really?). But I don't want to compare losing our house to losing a person, so I imagine what one feels when they lose a cat. I brought my daughter home to that house. Her first birthday was there. Her first steps. I spent all of my free time and all extra money turning a 1979 split-level into a house fancy bloggers on the interweb would be envious of. M said to look at what I did with a split level. Imagine what I could do with a row house in Frederick.

St Stephen's Day, 2011.

Ah, Nativity.

We are on our great trip to gain perspective.

Matthew's beard is fuller. I think it's really handsome.

My second daughter will be here in 3 months. Holy pierogi.

I am going to beat my screaming nephew if he wakes up my sleeping toddler. (ok, not really, I don't condone the beating of children).

Flannery loves to sing the ABCs and can get to G. G is for Genius.

M is drinking whisky with his brother. Talking about man things. I am pretty lonely, but my days are filled with the sweetest companion, and she's learning to talk.

moving into your parent's basement to save money= the American dream

i separate my clothes into piles. will never wear again (also, so 1990s/early 2000s). hope to wear again (beautiful pre-pregnancy/lactating clothes). can wear now (maternity). can wear after the baby (fat jeans).

i say, i feel like i've aged 10 years in the past 2.

m says, that makes sense. he says that when we got married he felt older than me. but after Flannery was born, we felt like the same age.

we are moving furniture today. well, the men are moving furniture. and grandma reed is playing with F while i get the furniture cleared out. this is one brutal, but necessary, step in moving North.

i found a notebook from grad school full of feminist diatribes and notes from feminist classes. one lone page though reads. "Oct. 19, 2007: Going to DC for the papermaking conference. Going to meet Matthew Reed while I'm there. Maybe we'll be good friends. Or maybe we'll fall in love. Or maybe he's a creep. Guess we'll see."

m says it's possible that all three are true.