I got all that sweetness

It's happened.

Gendered division of labor in the household.

I have no idea where many, but not all, of our hand tools are. 

I discovered a yellow jacket nest in the yard. Jared offered to spray it after dark. He's reading Beren bedtime stories, and I'm writing. I'm making no move on that nest.

Nothing is hard lined. I had a reaction to a wasp sting while doing field work about six years ago. And, this morning I used a hand saw to cut down a mildewy closet door to fit into our garbage can. 

I do the laundry and mend our clothes, but I also use the chainsaw and string trimmer. In fact, it's my job to change the brush blade to the string trimming head and back again come autumn. Yet, Beren still insists that the chainsaw is "Papa's". Meanwhile, Jared cooks many of our meals and wipes out the tub before we bathe.

But still, I feel it. Things are shifting.

Upon becoming a homeowner, Jared regularly takes out the chop saw for projects. Today he made a set of outdoor blocks for Beren. A few weeks ago, he added a ladder and a "firecat pole" for sliding down to Beren's swing set. On the other hand, I'm really good at cutting cheese triangles, and Jared is "getting better", Beren tells me.

For modern folk, and I'll let you define "modern", is there something about having children, or buying a house that changes things? Or is it just me?

Couple quotes...

Did you have a bunk bed when you were a kid? Beren asks Jared.

Nummies usually make me feel better, but this time they didn't, Beren tells me after a particularly bad fall.

Many, many body related inquires...where does poop come out of a beetle? Where does your poop come out of? Does pee come out of there, too? Why do you make milk inside of your nummies? 

And last, "I got all the sweetness out of your nummies."

We have passed through the newborn days, infant days, toddlerhood, the twos, and now we're deep into the threes. 

We recently spent an evening with a few families and children all along this journey. It gave Jared and I a moment to reflect and say...remember when? And then joke that we hardly remembered when because of the short term and long term memory loss from sleep deprivation and the fleet and agile passage of time. Fleet and agile, in hind sight, anyway.

Practicing latching on, having lots and lots and lots of milk everywhere...so much that the bed sheets and any spare scrap of fabric around the house smelled of milk. And then hitting our stride and then, surprise, having a baby so distracted by the unfolding world that he would not nurse, except in the middle of the night. And then, suddenly we could go out without having to figure out where to nurse AND change diapers...we could make it long enough without nursing and a diaper change. And then suddenly, a seemingly demanding child, verbally demanding nursing, sometimes in places I wished he didn't. 

All along the way, there were frustrations, tears, and lots of joy. Lots of peace and mutually sleepy moments, feeling that love. Feeling that uprightness, "the heck with this, I'm nursing my child as long as I feel like it." 

Until we get all the sweetness out. It hasn't been easy, nor simple, at times. But still, there's been all that sweetness, and more to come, I bet.