Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Meet the Nashes

Hi! Welcome to my online home. I am Lisa, happy wife and new mother of two. My son is two and a half, and my daughter was born last week. I am already yearning to write about the differences, the experiences, the uniqueness of welcoming our second child. And I also want to share the less-than-elegant moments of parenthood, which teach me about myself, my God, and my place in the messy world. So, with no further ado, meet the Nashes:

L Nash. That's me. I am the mom. I am 29 years old. Husband and I have been married for four years. I was born in the same town where I live now -- a sleepy Southern capital, a pocket of liberalism, a tiny blue county in the middle of a red, red state. In college I was not sure whether I wanted to be a nun or a wife, but when I met Husband I knew for sure within about two weeks. Since then I have felt that something about domestic life was my key to happiness, and the road to whatever holiness I am supposed to reach. We got married in December of 2005, and welcomed our son in October 2007, five days before closing the mortgage on our suburban house where we now live. Our daughter was born 11 days ago. The domestic life suits me pretty well, better than what I expected. I am a little bit of everything: wife, mother, editor, teacher, friend, writer, homemaker, chauffer, cook, and guardian of a moody betta fish. The thing is, I don't do any of these things 100% well (just ask the fish)-- life for me is about striking "good enough" with as many of these categories as I can. And sometimes with none of them. My obsessions include the 90s TV show Northern Exposure, the movie Monsoon Wedding, meditation, baking, the "process vs. product" writing pedagogy debate, getting a system in place so that I can actually manage the housekeeping, polygamous societies, utopian religion of the 19th century, and trying to grow things (I currently have two parsley plants that have survived since January...).

B Nash, my wonderful husband. Red hair, very cute, drummer in a band, state Accounting supervisor by day. A great father and a thoughtful, caring spouse. Obsessions include death metal bands both well-known and obscure, lawn care (used to work on a golf course -- constantly hatching plans for how to make our lawn perfect), the combination of peanut butter and chocolate, the movie Scarface, and working on music. He is the perfect combination of practical and idealistic -- a man who brings home the bacon but also enjoys life and its many possibilities. I will reiterate: very cute.

C Nash, my son. Two and a half years old. Follows in my footsteps in the following ways: looks like me, doesn't really believe that he is a child, hates to be corrected, full of ambition, sometimes very patient, sometimes completely lacking in all patience, tends toward melodrama at times. Takes after B in the following ways: very musically inclined, excellent sense of drumming and rhythm, innate sense of justice, facial expressions just like B's, 100% boy, lusts after power tools. Obsessions include things on wheels, wild animals, the movie Shrek, gummy snacks, stealing the spray cleaner and spraying every surface he can reach, pounding on things with a toy hammer, and recently, defying L and B whenever possible (but one gets the sense that he is just obeying the call of toddlerhood).

N Nash, my daughter. Seven pounds, likes onesies, hates zip-up sleepers and having her diaper changed. Not a fan of the alcohol-swab-on-umbilical-stump thing either. Obsessions include eating and... eating. Very easygoing baby, as long as you keep her supplied with milk. She looks a lot like B, a little like me, and a lot like C as well.

CrabFish Nash, the moody betta (named by C for his trailing fins, which apparently resemble crab legs). He lives in a low flat bowl (leftover centerpiece from our wedding reception) on our kitchen counter, directly above the dishwasher. He is blue and red and refuses to eat anything but mosquito larvae. When I put off cleaning his bowl for too long he sulks and mutters insults at me from within the refuge of his bubble nest. He is a cocky little fish who has lived a pampered existence since we liberated him from the Walmart tropical fish department. He doesn't believe me when I threaten to send him back. Even CrabFish knows how abysmal Walmart's customer service is.

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