Monday, April 28, 2008

Christmas Surprise

"A !" I scream running down the stairs, my legs rubbery and unsteady. "Come on, we've got to run a quick errand."

I load A into the car, jump in the driver's seat, and sit there, a bit shaky. "Is it really possible? And so quickly?" I put the car in reverse and head to Rite-Aid.

Allow me to back up for a moment.

My fingers have been numb and tingly, feet, too, so I schedule an appointment with my neurologist, who wanted to do an MRI. He assures me that he isn't concerned and this is just a precaution. A few days later I call the nurse to ask if you could have an MRI while expecting.
"I don't think it's likely, but possible, barely possible." I tell her.
"I'll just need you to take a pregnancy test the Friday before the MRI to make sure," she says.

So, the Friday before, the scheduled-MRI I grab a test left from back when we were trying for A. The instructions say plus-pregnant, minus-not. Simple enough. Once the time is up, I check the test. A faint, pink line is crossing a bold fuschia line. Faint, that's how I am feeling right now. Is that a plus, or not? Maybe it's a mark on the test because it is so old. I use another test. The same faint pink line appears. That is when I grab A and head for the drug store. I need to be 100% certain, which for me apparently means it needs to actually show the word pregnant on the test stick.

A and I rush into Rite-Aid like a whirlwind. I run to the test, grab the one that is the most idiot-proof, and race home, okay, more like drive the speed limit home while my stomach churns uncontrollaby. Is it nerves or do I suddenly have morning sickness?

Once home, I bound upstairs, slipping a few times, take the test and nervously wait the three hours, really, minutes, it takes to show up. And there it is, the word PREGNANT, just like that in all caps. I'm pregnant. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, so I do both. A walks into the bathroom, bewildered at her hysterical laughing, crying mommy. I pick her up, carry her to the bedroom, and just sit there kissing her head and rocking her, not sure how to feel, yet. Two years and two months of just A and Mom all day, two peas in a pod, and for some reason, I feel like to be elated would be cheating on her.

Of course, I am thrilled to be expecting. Travis and I talked about it and both agree A needs a sister or brother, but wow, it all seems to be happening so fast. I didn't expect to be taking positive pregnancy tests until July or August, but here it is, a blessing beyond measure, and I sit crying, tears gently rolling down my cheeks onto my confused daughter's golden hair. "Mommy's okay, baby, just emotional."

I dry my eyes and call T. "Hey, I have news." I can't tell him over the phone.
"What?" he asks.
"You'll find out soon enough."

I look at A. "How can we tell Daddy creatively?" I feel myself getting excited. I jump on the computer and try to find out how to calculate the due date. December 21st. "We need a Christmas theme." I decide to wrap the news in Christmas paper and wait for Travis's confused look. He finally gets home from work and opens his gift. "What's this?" he asks. "Merry Christmas!" I shout. "We're getting a December visit from the stork." I embrace my husband and find myself feeling a twinge of excitement. I am going to have another baby and this time A gets to come along for the ride. I'll continue to let you know how that goes.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Traffic Violations

I got my first ticket. At 32, I received my first traffic ticket. For speeding, no. For allowing A to jump in the front seat unrestrained, no. For "running" a stop sign, yes.

My local police, out cleaning up crime, was hiding at the bottom of a hill with a birdseye view of a three-way stop, where he could catch us S.U.V. suburban stay-at-home moms trying to get home quickly, but safely with our napping toddlers before we missed that critical window of opportunity that allows us to get them into the crib without waking them up, thus giving us the valuable free-time required for cleaning, laundry, and sanity. When I think hardened law-breaking criminals, I think stay-at-home mommy.

Apparently, when I came to the stop sign with absolutely no traffic on the road, I made a snap-decision to turn instead of go straight. I really thought I had come to a complete stop before turning. I drove right by the motorcycle cop without thinking that I had done anything wrong. Did I stop and count to, I don't know, ten. No, but I did stop the vehicle from moving for a brief moment. So, imagine my surprise when he turns around to pull me over. Napping A , loud, very scary, sarcastic, kind of mean, tattooed policeman, flustered mom. I tried to keep my voice down so A wouldn't hear her mommy and wake up, so I didn't say much to the officer, and no I didn't cry or try to get out of it. But, really, how about a warning?! A, "be more careful maam, and let's come to a complete stop for a few seconds next time." No, I got a "you ran a stop sign didn't you?" Despite my desire to say, "no, I didn't, and do you have to be so mean," I instead politely hand him my license and insurance and sit quietly while he "writes me up." $133. Do you know how many Elmo DVD's or diapers that would buy!!!!??

Am I mad because the officer was doing his job? Despite the HEAVY sarcasm above, no. I'm mad at myself for "breaking" the traffic laws. I really try to abide by all laws, even traffic laws. I usually drive the speed limit or just a few miles above. But, I guess I'm not trying hard enough, so if you're behind me at a stop sign, just be prepared for a truly exaggerated stop! And yes, I'll be the "granny" driver in the silver SUV.

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Step to It

It is a dark, stormy afternoon, wind howling, rain driving, you know the rest. A is refusing to nap. Okay, maybe she can't sleep for the tremendous thunderclaps shaking the house. Whatever the case, mom needs a break, so I cover A with a raincoat and run to the car, where we brave the howling wind, driving rain, and tornado warnings and drive the quarter-mile to the gym. I drop A off in the nursery, which is snuggled safely in the basement of the gym and go to check the schedule for group exercise. Step Circuit. Mmmm, it might as well say advanced hip-hop for all my coordination and skill. Well, I'm here now, so since I've braved the weather, surely I can brave a little humiliation and damaged pride and give step a try.

Immediately, I realize I am in over my head. Within seconds of my warm-up, Katie, our instructor, shouts, "Around the world." Around the who? I wonder, while everyone else in the class steps and lifts their knees in perfect rhythm. I just jump around in circles trying to figure out how around-the-world should actually be performed. Step is a lot like dance, and love dancing I might, that doesn't mean I can do it.

Apparently, we are going on a trip because the next move is a "carry-on" (I think) with lunges. Ooh! Lunge, I know that one. Carry-on, no clue. Again, I jump around, looking more like a baboon than an athlete and finish with a few lunges in the opposite direction of everyone else. All these steps....arrrgh....I can't keep up. My favorite workout dance is running and it only has two steps.

As soon as I feel like I'm learning the routine, Katie adds about ten new steps. I spend half the class facing everyone else and trying not to laugh. Who does she think I am Janet Jackson? I assure you I dance more like Tom Jones, but when I look at the clock, I am amazed to find that the class is almost over. Trying desperately to keep up with step circuit sure makes the time fly. Finally class is over, and I manage to scrape my pride off the floor and head down to the nursery, where I'm told A has been slapping and shoving other children. Pride back on floor. This time I cover my head with the raincoat and run with A to the car. Maybe we'll try the gym again on Monday?!

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Diaper Dandy

I must admit that I dread nap time more than A. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't look forward to two hours of mommy-alone-time, which normally includes cleaning, straightening, meal-planning, and o.k., sometimes the occasional nap or mindless magazine. No, I dread the daunting task of getting A to actually fall asleep in her crib and stay there. Yes, I have a confession to make.... after two years, I still need help getting A down for her nap. Either the rocker, if we're home or the car, if we're on the way home from T's office. What I don't undertand is why dad can lay her down in the crib with nary a peep. My mother-in-law and mother can also do it. But me, nope, not a chance. When I try, A is transformed into a shrieking, thrashing toddler-beast unwilling to be calmed.

But today is going to be different. Today is the day Mom is going to stand strong and not run back into the room to comfort, rock, or hold crying A. Yes, today, today will be the day that I place A gently in the crib, softly say, "night, night" and never look back. (Can you hear the dramatic super-hero music, too?) A's cries will no longer be my kryptonite.

And that is just what I do. After lunch, A and I walk up the stairs hand-in-hand to her darkened room. I strain through the dim light and manage to read one pre-nap book, while gently rocking my girl. I then lay A in her crib with Cookie and Puppies and walk out of the nursery. A immediately stands up and begins to cry. "Night, night," I say from beyond the crack in the door. "Mommy is going downstairs."

"Downstairs?" she asks in a small, whiny voice.

"Night, night."

"No night, night," she counters.

I close the door, tip-toe downstairs and begin to mop the kitchen floor. A's cries soon fade to silence. A few minutes pass and no sound. I've done it. She's napping; I'm cleaning, and it only took five minutes. I walk to the office and decide to take a peep on the monitor. My shoulders slump as I watch my short-lived moment of victory turn quickly to defeat. A isn't sleeping. No, she's standing and dancing in her crib. Is that her victory dance? "Mommy can't make me sleep," I imagine her saying while chuckling that dastardly cackle from the cartoons. I'm certain she's rubbing her hands together, concocting some plot to destroy nap time forever.

"What should I do?" I think to myself. What would super-mommy do? I'm sure I do the exact opposite because I walk back upstairs to her room. She smiles and points, "Mommy." I must admit; it is nice to always be treated like a celebrity.

"You're supposed to be napping." I notice a diaper in the floor. How in the world did she reach the diapers? I wonder. Defeated, I pick A up and get ready to either rock her or drive her around the neighborhood. Then I notice her hiney is as bare as the day she was born. "A!" I half-whisper, half-shout, "Where is your diaper?"

She giggles and points to the, thankfully, clean diaper in the floor. "Diaper," she says proudly.

"A, that is not funny."

A giggles louder and lifts her dress to show off her bare bottom. She's so proud to have stripped her way out of nap time. (I really hope this is no indication of aptitude for a certain career.) For fear that I am about to be victim to a quick sprinkle, I lay her in the floor and grab the diaper. She looks up and smiles. "Mommy, no diaper."

"I know, baby, no diaper." Suddenly, I do what no parent should ever do in the face of defiance. I erupt uncontrollaby into giggles. I mean, come on, you must admit this is pretty funny stuff and rather clever. Of course, this means, that A will now attempt to foil all nap times by removing her own diaper, but I'll figure that out later. Right now, I have to go warm up the car....


Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Faith Matters

Easter evening, after putting A to bed, T and I were flipping through the channels on television trying to find something to watch. Baseball had not started and there was no basketball being played, so we were at a loss to find anything for our viewing pleasure. T landed on Fox news, where Sean Hannity was hosting a special on Mysteries of Faith, so we watched for a little while. One of the segments was "first-hand" accounts of heaven and hell, both quite compelling, but the hell was especially horrifying and disturbing, and as we watched I got the sinking feeling that people I love could possibly be on the path to hell. I know, wow, heavy, but it's true, and I have not been able to really shake that feeling, since.

I guess that's why I felt compelled to blog about it, to get it off my mind and onto paper. Since Anna has hit the terrific, yet sometimes overwhelming, and I'll admit, every now and again, terrible twos, I've been doing a lot of self-examination as a parent, and I've been thinking about what my most important responsibility is as a parent, and that's easy. My number one desire for my daughter is eternal salvation, and T and I are doing all that we can to lead her on the path to Christ. I think examining yourself as a parent also causes you to examine your own self and your own faith and beliefs and then to say, "Am I living my faith in a way that proves to my daughter that I believe it?" In a world where truth seems relative and spiritual gurus and Oprah try to tell us that there are many paths to God and eternity, the truth is there is one, and it is my job to be sure that A knows that. John 14:6 states that "I (Jesus) am the way and the truth and the light. No one comes to the Father except through me." It is pretty clear-cut, and it is an easy truth to teach A, as her parents.

But what about the other people I love, who I fear are lost. Why is it so difficult to share a faith that is so wonderful, a truth that is so abounding in love and eternal bliss? I don't have the answer except to say that, shamefully, I guess I'm afraid of what other people will think. My husband and I serve our church and share our faith with youth and young adults, but witnessing to the willing isn't difficult. It's those who don't know or refuse to hear that I worry about. So that is why I am sharing it now in the medium that I know best. There is a wonderful gift that God has given us and that is salvation through his son Jesus Christ. Just attending church and acknowledging God's existence won't secure it. Being baptized as a baby, yet never confirming that act isn't enough. You must understand that you are a sinner. Romans tell us that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. You must then believe that Jesus is the son of God. Salvation is an act of faith. You must then confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and through prayer invite Him to forgive your sins and into your heart. Then live your life for Him. Simple, but powerful, and I believe the best decision you'll ever make.

Resources for questions:

http://www.family.org/
http://www.lproof.org/