365 days

Hi.

It's been awhile. 

And when I say "awhile," I mean almost a year. Guys, when I take a break, I take a BREAK. A lot has happened in one year.


Four days after I wrote my last blog post, I gave birth to a beautiful little boy who threw us for a loop with his head full of dark hair (I thought we only made blonde, almost bald babies). Our house offer fell through and in a crazy twist of events, my husband and I found ourselves making an offer on the house across the street from my sister and brother-in-law. We closed on a rainy weekend last November and dove right in: ripping out carpet, laying wood floors, and painting walls. Three days later, Drew and I drove Aliksas to the hospital. He had spiked a fever and was refusing to nurse. Needless to say, our first week as homeowners was pure chaos.

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In typical Viktorija fashion, I took my sweet time adjusting to two under 2 (guys, it's HARD). The first five months or so of Alikso life are a blur. Survival and caffeine were my buzzwords. I don't pretend that my situation is anyone else's. I am a creature of habit and change is hard. I've been seeing the term enneagram tossed about on social media a lot lately and at some point, I really ought to figure out my type. But for now, I can honestly say that for me, parenting two littles has been the hardest thing I've ever done.

Aliksas slept through the night by 8 months, until a quick bout of sickness kicked that bucket over and Drew and I found ourselves in the middle of the most intense sleep training session. Our second kiddo is stubborn. At the time, I swear it took us months, but in reality, it was probably a few weeks of tears---so many tears. He did not know how to self soothe and by gosh, he had no plans to learn. 

And finally...a new normal. For so long, it felt like we flew home from Fairbanks straight into a crazy buy house / have baby / close on house / keep two kids alive / oh wait, we were gone for 6 months so now we have to make new friends roller coaster. It was a heck of a ride: painfully slow, but sweetened with the sounds of baby coos and toddler laughter.

Drew's back at work. I'm teaching piano lessons one day a week. While I wouldn't say either one of us is quite at the top of our game (sleep wise), Aliksas is graciously granting us a full night's sleep, with a prompt 7AM wake-up. Every spare second that we're not spending with the kids, Drew and I are tucking away to work on house projects. Guys, sometimes it feels like we actually have 3 kids. The third one is really tall, really needy, and looked so darn sad at adoption day. There isn't a single surface of this house that we don't plan on updating, so just think (or don't think) about how much work that entails. On the plus side, I'm amazed at how much we've gotten done.


The last bit of news is this: several months ago, my creative juices started flowing again. I wasn't sure which way to channel the colorful swirl of creativity. Writing? Picking up an instrument? Diving back into photography? Pulling out my dusty watercolors? So I sat on it. Finally, I decided to overhaul my blog (the new blog says hi).

The bottom line is this: I want to write. I need to write. It's my way of making sense of this small corner of the world: family, friendships, parenting, love, all of it. By choosing the words and shaping them into sentences, I am able to organize my thoughts into something cohesive; to see patterns, shapes, and shades of color that I may never have noticed. 

But I'm rusty. It's been a while. And I'm not exactly sure what to write or for whom; whether it should be a private thing, a submission kind of thing, or what. I remembered this space, but then found myself questioning the validity of a blog.

"Isn't it just a way to write for someone? To put the words out in a public space and feel like as long as I'm hitting the publish button, I'm legitimizing my writing?" I said out loud. To which my husband responded, "Who cares?" 

He's right. Who cares? I need an outlet: a clean, white space for my pent up words. And for right now, this is it.