psssttt....

we have moved to the country, but we have no internets until 18 nov.

see you then.

hearts and stars,

sara lou who.

sleep at your own risk.

I'm heading to bed early tonight. Partly because I am tired but mostly because there is a little little who needs snuggling. She's big enough now you can really hold on to her and not worry about hurting her.

But, since she still loves to wake me by ripping out my hair, that no hurting thing is not mutual.

rolling stones.

I have often talked on this blog about the amount of times I have moved, because I often find myself thinking about the amount of times I have moved. Three countries, six cities, eight different houses.

From an early age I have loved the feeling of motion. In high school I can remember my mom trying to tempt me out of a bad mood by trips to far away malls. I found driving on the highway to be calming. I am fascinated by the amount of people and perspectives in the world. I love looking out the window of the car and seeing people as they pass. I always find myself wondering if that person who went by in a blur could be my future best friend or my worst enemy. What is their life like? Are they happy or was today the worst day of their life?

And, the more I have explored the world the more people I have passed. The more perspectives I have been able to understand. It's been one of my greatest privileges and joys. My exposure to the human condition across cultures has been the greatest gift.

But, things have started to shift. I have started wondering what happens when I stop moving. Can I stop moving? Will I ever have a place I think of as home? The answers to these questions are not known but I think it's about time to find out. As we prepare to move house next week into a rental, I yearn for something permanent in my life. I want consistency and stability for Skyler. I want a corner of the world that belongs to my family.

Stewart and I have been saving our pennies to build a sustainable, log home but we just don't know where to build it. The trouble is, I don't know of a place I can commit to right now. And, because of that I feel ill at ease.

Today we went and bought a set of Le Crueset pots and pans that will last a lifetime. I just needed something that I know will be ours. A bit of consistency that can travel with us until we can make a brave choice to put down roots, build a home and learn to see the world through vacations.

But, then again, I would still love to live in China...

hmmmmmmmmmm....

priorities.

At 5:15 my phone rings. Screaming from my LV bag, everyone in the room turns to look at me. Before I even answer, I know it's Stew. My photo caller ID is displaying his picture complete with his warm face and twinkly eyes.

"Hello." I say.

"Hi, I am parked up the block from the Urbis, down from the ferris wheel." says Stewart.

He has come to pick me up earlier than I had planned. It's sales meeting week, and my whole team was scurrying around me merchandising products. My boss called for me to come over and work my "magic".

I feel conflicted. Sales meetings are the equivalent of "game day" in my business. They can make or break a line and everything needs to be perfect. I hate the idea of letting my team down.

"Okay. I'll be there in 15 minutes or so." I reply to Stew.

"Skyler's sleeping. Take your time" he replies, as patient and kind as ever.

I hang up the phone and walk over to my boss. I feel tempted to stay, but instead I tell him that Stewart is downstairs with Skyler and it's time for me to go. I wish him and the team well, pack my bags and stride towards the elevator.

The elevator at the Urbis is operated by an older man. He says, "It must be nice to be done with work for the day."

"It is. But, I am a working wife and mother. I am going home to my other job. My real job." I say.

He smiles in a soft way, his age showing in every crease in his face. "I just had my first grandson." he said.

"Congratulations. You are very lucky. Babies are a wonderful gift" I reply.

The doors open and he wishes me a good evening. I smile and walk towards the exit. As I open the door the fresh fall air tickles my face and I pick up my pace. Walking with pride and purpose I move up the crowded road dodging passersby like a running-back.

As I approach the car I see Stew's hand, waving hello. The day fades and all I can see is my family. My people. My heart swells.

I open the door, plop down my laptop bag, and clock in.

someone should have warned us.

the fruit poops are one serious situation.

as much as she enjoys it going in

whoa-nelly

coming out

it's a whole 'nother issue.

hot damn.

don't look down.

In life I have three major roles, and I am doing them all half-assed.

I am not the kind of mother I want to be because I work.

I am not the kind of employee I want to be because I am a mother.

I am not the kind of wife I want to be because I am a working mother.

It's a tightrope walk done at the lightening speed of life.

It's compromises aplenty.

It's about never having anything perfectly done

and finding the level of good enough.

It's sacrifice upon sacrifice.

It's race on a treadmill that never stops.

It's too little too late.

I can give Skyler a private education,

but I cannot give her all my time.

It's a bitch.

This modern life.

I fucking hate it.

she speaks.

Yesterday we were hanging out, and I said, "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Skoo Skoo!"

And, Sklyer turned to me and said, "Hi."

Then today I was trying to feed her baby rice and she started to wince. I tried to reassure her, "Come on, Skylie, you like baby rice."

She looked me in the eye, plain as day and said, "Yeah."

I looked at Stew. Stew looked at me. Then we both looked at her. She answered a question? With words? With "yeah"?

All morning we have been saying to one another, "yeah" imitating her voice- which is a sound so sweet that I am pretty sure Walt Disney himself was unfrozen to create it. If I see any bluebirds following her around I will let you know.

cuddly buggly.

The last 24 hours have been strange. I obviously have a lot on my mind, but I also have quite a bit of grief coursing through my veins. The last day has been emotionally raw and quite painful, really.

But, on the other side of that coin is my immensely caring daughter. She is a complete empath. It amazes me to see such a trait in someone so small. But, she is a very feeling person. I have really recongized it in her interactions with other kids. It might be why she is so well liked by her peers at daycare.

mama's make the best pillows.

Skyler is always a little love bug, but over the last two days she has been a total mama's girl. She has been so cute- she has to be on me. Laying across me or on my lap. She's taken her tiny, adept hands and placed them on my face while pulling me to her and attempting to either eat me or kiss me (I choose to prefer the latter). She's made a million smiles worth a million dollars a piece just for me.

sweeter than homemade cupcakes.

Being Skyler's mom is a strange and wonderful adventure. Strange because this little person and her personality are exactly who I expected. I feel like I have always known her. And likewise, wonderful because her person and personality is exactly what I expected. She was the soul that was meant for me.

No matter what else I do in my life, this child is my manifesto. She is my gift to the world. And, she is God's gift to me.

Not for those with sensitive sensibilities.

"That's a huge scar. Is that from your C-section?" the nurse asked.

"Yep." I reply. Looking down at it fondly. I never mind seeing my scar. It is very long, maybe eight inches, but it curves up at the end like a smile. When I think of the day Skyler was born, I smile, too.

As she goes to examine me, I remark that at 7 months in I still have occasional acute pain at the site of the incision.

She gloves her hand, and starts to check me over. The heat from the light is strong and I feel self-conscious that I should have shaved my legs last night.

Sheepishly, I apologize. " I am really sorry about my legs. I didn't realize I would be doing this today."

The nurse who is kind and soft-spoken has a 15 year old girl of her own. She tells me she doesn't mind with a smile. My legs are not what she is looking at.

What she is looking at is lots and lots of scar tissue. Glancing inside, she says in a sad way, "Wow, your insides are a mess. There is scar tissue everywhere. And I don't think they put you back together exactly right. Your cervix, is twisted, pushed back, and tilted."

My heart sinks. I ask if I could still have another baby and she says she cannot comment on that. But her face tells the story of words she seems too kind to say. My heart starts to break little by little. But, I only have a moment to feel sorry for myself. For the baby who I will likely never know.

Crashing my pity party, she interrupts my thoughts. She asks if I mind having an ultrasound. She has found a lump the size of a quarter. It's probably nothing. Only I don't feel like it's nothing. I have had a sinking feeling lately that I am unwell. Memories from 2004, when they found cancer cells flood my mind.

In the last 30 days I have lost ten pounds while eating 3 meals a day, some of which have come from Burger King and finishing each night off with a candy bar. I am not on a diet. My husband is not losing weight.

She orders a full blood work up and tries to reassure me. "You are a working mother. It makes people skinny."

And, my heart continues to break. It's crumbling like meringue nests from Marks and Spencers. My thoughts instantly turn to the other child I may not ever know.

Throughout Skyler's 9 month stay in the lovin' oven, I made her video messages. I have had the nagging feeling in my gut that I won't be around to see her grow up. And, so over the nine months I told her everything I would need her to know about life and how to live it. And, in some cases how not to live it. I told her how much I loved her. And to be whoever she wanted to be.

Stewart thought I was batshit. He doesn't like to think about things like that, and I suppose I don't either. And, maybe it's nothing. But, today I am glad I did it. I am glad there is a document, a testament to my love for my daughter. We are all dying one day at a time. It's just that some of us know what will kill us and some of us don't.

I hope my fear is unfounded. I hope I watch those videos of me babbling about boys, career, destiny, acceptance, faith, and love will be watched by me and Skylie with a big bowl of popcorn when she is a grown women. I hope that when I sing the lullaby I wrote her to the camera that is not the only way she remembers it.

Hope.

All I can do is hope.

econ-o-ME.

The other day I was walking the drizzly streets of downtown Manchester on market trip (ie shopping for work) with a young co-worker. She's in her mid-twenties, I would guess. Anyway, I was treading that careful line between friendly and friend trying to talk about things that weren't too personal but not about work. Anyone who has played this game knows it can be hard, and with a person like me who can be way too open of a book it's a minefield.

So, she asked me what my interests are...and I answered, "Well, we are really interested in art and like to go to galleries and museums, we like coffee culture and bookshops, the ballet, we're into the environment and try to be as eco-conscious as possible...we are fans of photography and great furniture design..."

What. a. total. prick.

After I was done this girl was looking at me across not only an age divide but an economic divide. It felt awkward and I felt very self-conscious that I sounded like a snob. But, I am not a snob. I just happen to like some things that could be perceived as snotty. And, I don't know how to reconcile that.

Then I was distracted by a HUGE section of keihl's product.

Case and point.

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Last weekend we went looking for a place to hang our hats. We need to have a house by the end of this month. It was suggested we look outside where we have being staying which is Didsbury, a village within Manchester. Think Lakeview to Chicago or Alameda to Portland.

Our co-workers sent us to the "golden triangle" of Manchester. I am a city mouse and I expected to hate it, but WRONG. These somewhat faux rural villages are lovely, relaxing and quiet. I am immediately wooed by the one that the Beckhams used to call home and that members of the band New Order still call home. It backs up to a national park and has beautiful views of rolling hills. It's English countryside the way it is meant to be done.

I worry because the village feels a bit too upscale. I wear t-shirts and Vans at the weekend. I can hear my sister moan about it being trendy and I feel guilty. I can hear my father say he thinks it sucks. But, I still kind of like it.

When I go to work Monday and mention that we are thinking of living there my management thinks it's perfect. The people who work in roles under me comment that it's snobby and that they film a show there called, "The Edge" which is like the UK's version of "The Hills." The fact my lifestyle is more closely aligned with upper management than with the worker bees scares me to my bones.

I come home and google the average income of the area and stewart and I each beat it by more than 20K. I feel sick.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I talked to my mom on the phone. She said that of all the people she knows, Stewart and I are "doing really well." This surprises me because I don't normally think that.

As we talk I start to realize just how privileged our lives are, especially in this economy. I guess I never think about it because for the past 6 years almost everyone I have socialized with has worked for the same company and made similar money.

I feel very guilty.

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When I picked my major the projection in my textbooks for what I would earn annually was 19K. I didn't know what that meant. I had never had to take care of myself. And, I didn't care. I wanted to be in this line of work because I loved it. I didn't choose my job, it choose me. When I was six and trying to draw dresses, with matching handbags, earrings and shoes I was building collections. It was part of who I am.

And, when I graduated I wanted to do well. But right out of the gate I felt so awful. I did work hard in school, but it's really the luck of the draw, isn't it? I was lucky I had a dream, I was lucky I got accepted into college, I was lucky I had parents who funded my education and supported me in my coursework, I was lucky I met a gentleman named Ben who encouraged me the whole way, and I was lucky to have a teacher named Val who mentors me to this day.

But that person working two low paying jobs to take care of their kids, they aren't lucky. Their life is not easy. They have to do hard things for little money. That has always made me feel so very conflicted. I have never felt like I deserved it enough. I have never felt like I am worthy of it. Luck. It's just dumb luck that my cards were stacked in a certain way.

The people who teach kids and work with the elderly. Those people, now they deserve something great. Me? I just make clothes. Society is fucked up.

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"I sell absolutely everything I don't need on ebay. It's brilliant. It gives me so much extra money." Says XXXX.

"Wow, I admire that. I cannot do that. It seems like so much work. I have so much on already I don't think I could mail stuff in a timely manner. Besides, I don't know who would want my old stuff. I just donate it." I reply.

"It would not be too much work for you if you needed the money." XXXX glares.

Crickets.

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I don't when, if ever I will reconcile these things. As we move ahead in our lives and careers I should feel more comfortable, but I don't. I don't want to be wasteful. I don't want to be focused on frivolous things. I don't want to depend on money and a lifestyle that could change on a dime.

I don't want to live in a "bubble" as my sister once said and I don't want to loose focus of what is important in life. I don't mind that my sister and John think I am trendy, but I don't ever want them to think I am a jerk. I think that is the part that worries me most. I never want to be too caught up in shit that doesn't matter to remember the people and things that do.

No one cares that last season purple was the new black.

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" Don't feel bad, we spend all our extra money to travel." says Stew.

"Yeah, I know." I reply.

" We need it to see your family." he says.

"Yeah, that's true. That's the important thing." I reply.

Grabbing the remote, I change the channel.