I feel like I am doing a fair amount of cultivation right now in several area of my life. Obvious to anyone who has perused this blog, I spend a good chunk of time cultivating my garden plot. No matter how many times I go out there, the weeds will come back. I feel like I can safely amend an old adage: the only certain things in life are death, taxes, and weeds.

I am also tying to grow professionally. The scope of my job at the museum has changed dramatically in the years I have worked there; the past few months more than anytime previously. I am in a place where I know my opinion and ideas are heard and respected, and I like it. I am young and doing many things for the first time, but I also have come to understand that those two things are not necessarily a hindrance.

Another thing I am trying to cultivate is patience. It’s not much of a secret that patience is something that I struggle to have. I like to think that I have gotten better, but my constant need to go and do doesn’t always mesh with the ability to slow down before reacting. I really want to model patience for my son because I know that it will be good for both of us. I also don’t want him screaming obscenities (real or three-year-old versions) when something doesn’t go as planned or as quickly as he wants. I struggle with it daily, but I hope that I am at least making a bit of headway.

And, as always, I am cultivating relationships. Old ones and new ones. Reviving friendships that have gone dormant, trying to overcome my inmate shyness to make new connections. Of upmost importance is maintaining and growing my relationship with Greg. Nothing sounds less romantic than “maintaining our relationship,” but I think one of the most loving things that we can do is make sure that we keep part of our focus on each other in addition to the very spectacular changes the past half year has brought. Just like I want to model patience for our son, I also want to model love. In all of its committed, messy, fun, silly and hard working glory.

Maybe my pro wrestling handle would be: THE CULTIVATOR. I kinda like it.

On love…

It’s not our anniversary or his birthday or some day of special significance for the two of us. It’s Monday. And, like every Monday, he woke up and made me breakfast and fixed my coffee. We tag teamed our way out the door and later we will eat dinner together and play with our kid and be sleepy. We will continue living our ordinary, extraordinary life.

For over seven years, we have built and changed routines. We have grown up and became actual adults somewhere along the way. We have been together through the type of defining moments you would expect and some that may be unique to us.

It’s Monday. He made me breakfast. I’m lucky, and that’s my love.