Suzie

I admit it.  I am a Suzie Homemaker.  Or rather, I try very hard to aspire to caring for and nurturing my family.  The term family is used loosely.  The people who enter and exit my life for any length of time come under the umbrella of community I create over myself.  I shelter them as much as I can, physically and emotionally, I feed their mouths and souls with warmth and wisdom, and I crave their company on both sunny and rainy days.
In the case I am using the word here, however, refers more specifically to the house and members of the house.  I have been distracted by the tasks of being a successful, caring and patient parent as well as trying to make life a little more comfortable for my fellow.

This afternoon, I spent my free time cleaning and organizing my young daughters room.  Until this morning, the window in her room wouldn’t close, which, being October, means that her room has been rather chilly these past few weeks and she has instead spread her toys among the living room floor, and then exasperatedly yells at the kitten for wanting to play as well.  And, while her room is not quite as decorated as it will be, at least it is clean and organized and, thank heavens, warm.
Aside from cleaning and organizing, I have also been cooking.  Odin has been a wonderful match for us, and when he, however reluctantly, agreed to move to Evanston rather than Des Plaines (creating a 40 minute – at best – commute) I felt that if there was anything I could do to make it easier on him, I would.  He is, afterall, covering most of the rent and other bills.  So, I try to have a warm and tasty dinner ready when he walks in the door, a clean house and fresh laundry.
Suzie.  That’s me.

I like cooking, however, and Odin likes eating.  So perhaps that Suzie Homemaker aspect is merely a good, mutually beneficial companionship that we adhere to with pleasure.  He never tells me when something tastes like crap and I try my best to follow his weird hippy diet.

As far as the studio goes, I have a dilemma.  There are 3 lights right about where I want to make the studio, however, the ceilings in this old house are 10 foot.  I am a mere 5’4″.  Even standing on a stool I can’t reach the lightbulbs, which happen to be burnt out.  And, being fall, it is usually dark by the time my somewhat taller partner returns home from work and the attic is already too dark to safely stand on a stool to change the bulbs.  Therefore, I should be working on the studio sometime in the early afternoon.

Unfortunately, being a part time barista has it’s drawbacks.  The first of which is that my hours are in the morning and I have to wake up before the sun does.  The second is that I am on my feet all day without much time to sit down, as usually on my breaks I try to leave the building for fresh air.  And thirdly, throughout the morning there is so much adrenaline pumping through me as people order espresso drinks in wild procession that by the time I do get back home I simply want to veg on the couch with a yarn catalogue than work some more.  Then, just after 3, I pick Ellette up from school, help her with her after school routine (what happened in school today?  What yummy paperwork did you bring back for me? etc.), then make dinner, clean up dinner, and have some quality family time.  It’s by the making dinner part that the sun has already set low enough to great stark darkness in the attic, so work is impossible.

Humph.

What in the world makes me think that I can undertake several challenging tasks simultaneously?  At first I think it can be a breeze; naivety or stubbornness, I’m not quite sure which.  But, soon after I begin, I realize I was sorely mistaken.  By that time, however, it is too late to turn back.  So, I face it head on, with as much vim and vigor as I can muster, and then at the end of the day I collapse to recuperate before doing it all over again.

Somehow I wonder if it is merely love for what I am doing that sustains me.  I love my daughter, I love Odin, I love this neighborhood, I love my business, and I love my day job.  So, while it may seem cumbersome, tedious, or inconvenient half the time, at least in the end I feel a sense of accomplishment that, unlike so many others, I am happy with myself because I am pursuing my dreams.

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