Cue the Sun

And really why do systems have to be set up so inconvenient between college and jobs and getting settled and trying to put a family together all at the same time.

I think I’m going to schedule an appointment about birth control but the more I read about it and hear about it the more everything sounds like it sucks in at least one major way. I know my mother had big problems with hormonal pills.

We could use a pretty effective and not risky health-wise method. But for 3+ years…

I’m glad we have no need of concern whatsoever about STDs though. That would be extra bothersome. And I do know I’d like to have kids with my husband someday.

I don’t know how to not hurt when someone so close to me is hurting. I feel like it kills me some nights. I’d be willing if dying made you better but that’s not going to help matters.

I’ve been pondering on my first childhood experiences a bit.

According to my mother, I thought both elbows and my grandmother’s purse were hilarious for no apparent reason and laughed at them as a baby.

My first words besides a not impressive ma-ma were “red bird” consecutively in that order. My mom and grandma used to watch birds with me from a large window in my grandma’s kitchen and point them out. I looked out, said it plainly, and refused to say it again.

My first memory that I can recall was when I was shorter than the bathroom counters that are kind of short for bathroom counters. I walked into the bathroom as mom was getting dressed, and told her I wanted a bra to wear.

Luke told me that according to his mother when he was a baby, and could just hold onto things and stand up, she would leave him in his room at night and turn off the light. She’d come back to find that his crib by the light switch and the light on because apparently he rocked it over there and turned the light on. At least that’s the theory.

Our kids are going to be weird and maybe concerning. I was easy to please though, if someone bought me a ball to play with I was thrilled for quite some time.

I miss goodnight kisses and being tucked in and Luke’s immensely comfortable bed even if I only got to sleep by him once in a blue moon these past few months. One of these days I’m going to hold him and decide nothing is worth letting go of him because I’ll miss him again and its going to vastly inconvenience our lives and be terrible.

The Van Gogh episode of Dr. Who hurts. Every time.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Luke as my husband since I’ve been home. I can hardly fathom how right it feels. He is lovely. I’m going to take care of him for as long as we live. Sweet, beautiful man. He loves me entirely too much.