Four and Twenty Years

Twenty-four is to me, what twenty-nine is to my dad.  Just about the perfect age. Something about 24 is pretty magical and when people ask me how old I am, my first thought is always 24.  Well, until recently.  Rex figured out how old I really am and constantly reminds me so it's hard to forget that I'm nearly 30 these days.  There's a lot I miss about being 24, and some I don't miss so much.

My twenty-fourth year started as most of my years have started--at a family reunion.  They really are one of my all-time favorite things.  I just really love my family and not just because I have to because we're related but because I think they are pretty awesome people.

Shortly thereafter, we started feeding Rex solid foods and he stopped crying so much, got on a rigid schedule, which suited me just fine, and was becoming less of a lump and more fun to be around.

Doing the dishes one night while Greg was in class--Rex was being silly.

Greg was still in school and working, which meant two or three nights a week of just me and Rex.

I spent a lot of time being really, really bored.  Rex took four-hours worth of nap a day and 12 hours at night.  This was the first time since elementary school that I had significant amounts of time with nothing to do.  It was an odd adjustment to go from studying 15 hours a day to working 15 hours a day to sitting and waiting while a baby slept 18 hours a day.  And then when said baby was awake, he didn't do much because he was a baby.  We spent a lot of time walking around downtown Provo just to walk around.  We walked to the library, to the grocery store, to the park, and just around.  I miss those walks, but I don't miss being so bored I emailed the Relief Society president several times begging for things to do during nap time--make the calendar, redo visiting teaching routes, anything.

I felt useless; most mornings I woke up and laid in bed listening to Rex whine from his bed wondering how in the world I was going to fill my time.  Greg was working and going to school, and I was reading books and napping.  I applied for a few jobs producing content for websites and heard nothing back.  I posted an ad on KSL to tutor.  I got 3 students.  Two for just a few weeks and a third who called me back again a year or so later.  I also edited a book.  Then I applied for graduate school.  Greg finished his course work after the fall semester and I started in the spring on a Masters of Secondary Education.  I had missed school and it felt good to be back.

Greg and I went back to Manti without Rex for a little fall break.

I made this dress for Halloween--Lucy, Charlie Brown and Linus

Around Christmas, I snapped out of my post-birth stupor and started crafting.  A lot.  I crocheted a rug from sheets and repurposed several of Greg's old shirts in to shorts for Henry and skirts for me.  I started making up sewing patterns and taught myself to resize others.  I was still bored a lot, but at least I had learned how to make use of some of the time.

By the time Rex turned 1, all the crazy pregnancy hormones had finally exited my body and the weather was warm enough to run outside again.  Rex and I went running every morning, stopping at a park half way through to play for a hour or so and then run home for nap time.  I then thoroughly enjoyed a few hours to myself and my school work or various crafts projects.  I miss those runs and park mornings.

Then I made Rex's hat, suspenders and pants for Easter.

This was my favorite park--it was 1.5 miles from our house and was always full of other moms to shoot the breeze with.

I made dinner every night, and making up the occasional holiday to add variety.  After dinner, we left the dishes undone and retired to Rex's room to play for an hour or so before bedtime.  Then Greg and I continued in our TV binge watching ways, watching 4 seasons of Law & Order SVU, 4 seasons of Law & Order, Doll House and I'm sure several others that I'm forgetting.

Post bath, pre-playtime Rex.

Those are fond memories--they ones after the pregnancy fog lifted--of playing silly games with Rex after dinner.  Greg coming up with riduculous story lines, Rex not really understanding what's going one, and me just about peeing myself with laughter.  Greg even made up a song about a pair Rex's PJs with an accompanying dance.  In high falsecitto "I'm a little dancing boy, dancings what I like to do."  I miss those carefree nights--I try to recapture them still and succeed on occasion.