A Life Less Ordinary

This morning I had a plan with a friend to visit a neighborhood Barnes & Noble and let our (collectively) 5 children play amongst the books while we attempted some form of semi- adult conversation.

But our ordinary plan was foiled for an even more ordinary reason: the cable man, who was scheduled to knock on my friend’s door between 7:30 and 9:00 a.m., didn’t roll up until 9:15, making it impossible for us to transport our babbling brood to and from the bookstore before lunch…

So I hauled two babies and two baskets of laundry into the back of my car and headed to her house for a bit of playtime instead.

As I climbed into my car I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Well aren’t you the picture of suburban domesticity!, I thought. And isn't it banal? It was middle morning on an empty street. I was wearing flip-flops, my hair pulled back in a ponytail… An image of utter ordinariness. I looked back at my girls. Evie was sleeping soundly after a long night of wakefulness while Audrey chattered some delightful nonsense about going in the big pool...and sliding down the big slide.

I considered that if someone ten years ago had presented me with a snapshot of just this moment – driving in the car in the bristling heat at 10 in the morning to a friend’s house, to fold laundry – I would have bristled myself. At that time, ordinariness, in any arena of life, was an absolute anathema to me. I’d have preferred any other adjective - even stinky, slimy, or sordid! - to describe my existence. But ordinary?! Faugh.

But now that I was on the inside of this very ‘ordinary’ picture – (and perhaps it took being on the inside)—I realized that you can’t determine the quality of something merely by observing its exterior.

Stereotypes, I defy you!

Regardless of how ordinary my life may appear, each moment is, in actuality, completely unique and original. Never before in the history of the world has there been an Audrey Sophia, or an Evangeline Grace, thrown together at this particular time, in this particular set of circumstances, with this particular Mommy … nor will there ever be again.

That is the joy – the thrill, even – of motherhood: being physically and emotionally present in both the monumental and mundane moments; and being (or attempting to be) the Mother they need. The challenge is to allow those moments, particularly the seemingly mundane ones, to be my ‘tutor,’ not just my children’s.

After all, isn’t that the real miracle – not just of motherhood, but of life in general? That God can use the ‘ordinary’ moments of our lives to teach us extraordinary things? The trick is, to let Him.

Dromedary Denominationalism

(You may remember a post I wrote a long time ago regarding camels, too: http://mommytrenches.blogspot.com/2008/06/camel.html. Luke would not say they are his favorite animal, I think, though they do seem to come up with more than average frequency around here.)

In the car today, Luke was quizzing us with his newest science facts, no doubt acquired from something he has read recently. It's one of his favorite games: "Mama, did you know that humans can go a week without food but only two days without water?" Sometimes he gets the facts right, sometimes wrong; what's scary is when I don't know which it is: "Mama, did you know that a zebra's skin is actually black?" It's been a while since I've read my Zoo Books magazine religiously, and Luke is becoming quite the bluffer...

Anyhow, today, the aforementioned question about food and water was immediately followed by a camel quiz: "Mama, what do you think camels' humps are for?" Ha ha, Mr. Smartypants, I know this one (on a side note, it's scary when you're satisfied to beat your five-and-a-half year old at a science facts quiz): "Storing nutrition."

"No, Mama. You see, some camels have two humps and some have three"--here's where I begin to doubt the validity of his fact memory--"so that they can tell each other's religion. If a camel with two humps sees another camel with two humps, he knows they're the same. But if he sees another camel with three humps, he might just walk away or something."

Where to begin? After stifling a laugh, Sam jumped in with the important correction: "Luke, I don't think there's such a thing as a camel with three humps."

(As for the religion thing, well, I didn't even know where to begin. But I'm guessing he's just bluffing on that one.)

Mommy's Magic Bag

I got home from a baby shower yesterday afternoon and felt like my purse was just too darn heavy, so I vowed to clean it out once the girls were asleep. Here's what I pulled out of the bottomless pit:
1 wallet, 1 set of keys, 1 cell phone, 1 digital camera, 3 diapers, 1 package of wipes, 2 little bottles of hand sanitizer, 3 travel size packages of tissues (three?!), 1 teething ring, 1 little stuffed animal, 2 pens, 1 tube of lotion, 6 bandaids, 4 random crumpled coupons, 1 pacifier (my littlest hasn't used one for months), 1 hairbrush, 1 bottle of contact solution, 1 binder clip, 1 pair of sunglasses, 1 full-sized bottle of baby sunscreen spray and 1 little tube of kids' sunscreen, 1 mini maglite, 1 giant paperclip, 1 granola bar, and 1/2 a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (just put in there that day, thankfully)

Sincerely yours,
Big Purse Momma

Back at Ya!

Driving home from book club, I asked my 4 year old daughter how the morning was playing with her friends. She is sitting back there quietly reading a book. She looks up at me and says very politely, "Please don't talk to me, I am reading right now!"

Wonder where she has heard that before????

Waiting

We are expecting our second baby any day now.  Technically, said baby (no, we have not found out if it's a boy or a girl) should not be making an appearance until its due date of August 11th.  But, our first baby, 20 month old Evan, arrived 3 weeks early, exactly on the day he reached the 37 week full term milestone.

My midwife told us that Evan's weight (a healthy 6 pounds, 9 oz) was probably a comfortable one for my body and that it would be likely that our future babies would be born around the same weight and likely early.  This seemed logical to us, and so we mentally revised the due date to July 21st.

We have, for the last several months, worked some very, very long days, nights and weekends on home improvement projects that had to be completed 'Before the Baby Comes.'  When we finished those projects, I spent weeks scouring the construction dust out of the house, frantically reassembling baby equipment and washing miniature clothes.

On the 20th of July, my husband and I looked at each other and realized we were finished.  And ready.  I packed my bag and double checked my calendar, to be sure that it was clear.

Now, two days later, we're still waiting.  And, I am sheepishly realizing that there is a very good chance that this little one may not appear for another three weeks.  Maybe it's time to start putting some things on the calendar again.

Signs

We're on the verge-- the Very Brink-- of teenager-hood over here. I can hardly believe it. Will's thirteenth birthday is next month, and I find myself looking for signs....

For the most part, Will isn't showing many. I mean, the personality change that parents sometimes groan about hasn't emerged. He's still his joyful, delightful self. Case in point: over the last months a contest has emerged: he's aiming-- over the course of his life-- to kiss me more times than I kiss him, and I've explained that, given his failure to kiss me for the better part of his first eighteen months or so, and given that I gave him Ever So Many kisses during that time (and since then), he is Hopelessly Behind. So now he tries to kiss me where I have no hope of getting him back: on the back of my neck, on the tip of my nose-- places where I cannot simultaneously reach him at all. Still, I tell him, it's hopeless.

Yet he has become quite the texter, I will say-- a form of communication for which I have (almost) complete disdain as it fails to be genuinely relational (and in taking this stance I realize that I have rendered myself among the Ancient). Last week, with the use of this texting medium, he arranged for he and some friends (one of them is a Girl) to go bowling. That seems pretty teenager-ish to me.

The Smart Mouth (thankfully) hasn't really emerged, but at its threat we are quick to Correct and he is (Sweet Boy) quick to apologize.

But the forgetfulness, well, that's been around for awhile. During sixth and seventh grades he lost or forgot necessary binders countless times, both at home and at school. He also forgot his lunch, his guitar, his soccer clothes. This was irritating for all of us, but as a symptom of adolescence it hasn't been a big deal.

Nonetheless, when he was headed last week to King's Dominion with the youth group and asked to borrow my Bible (my lovely, leather-bound, slender, received-for-my-last-birthday Bible), I was hesitant to let him take it. (Doesn't he have one of his own, Bill asked? And yes, he does, but it's a "Kid's Bible," so I'm guessing it wouldn't do for a youth group trip (another Sign)). Still, this was my Son, asking for my Bible. How could I say no? So I told him: Please, please Will, don't lose this. Don't forget it where you are staying, or in somebody's van. Bring it Home.

He'd been home for a day or two when I realized the Bible hadn't re-surfaced. My question (Will, where's my Bible?) was met, at first, with silence-- a silence I dreaded. And then he says: "I think it's in the laundry."

???

"I haven't done any laundry," I said.

"Oh," he said. A little more silence. And then, "I guess it's in the laundry hamper," he said. "I just opened my bag and dumped all the clothes in there, and your Bible was at the bottom of the bag. I guess I forgot it was there."

Oh. The laundry hamper. Didn't think to look there, I guess. But I found it, just where he said it would be.

At least he brought it home.

Before You Make the Grocery List

Third call from upstairs, nearly half an hour after bedtime. Nearing the end of my rope.

"Mama, just one more thing. Have you ever noticed how I start sneezing a lot when I'm around lettuce? I guess I'm allergic to it." Sips from the cup of water he has requested. "I shouldn't be around salad, I guess."

Just in case I was downstairs planning tomorrow's dinner, I suppose.

To infinity....

My three-year-old son is absolutely obsessed with numbers. To be fair, my husband is a math PhD, but never really pushed the number learning (I guess he didn't want to hear "Well, you are a math professor..." all the time). Our child, once we taught him to count to twenty when he was 2 1/2, quickly learned the pattern that commenced. And has not stopped. He now regularly writes numbers like 5607, 25603, and knows that one million is a one followed by six zeroes. It's adorable. (And makes me worry about him acting out of boredom in kindergarten. Counting to ten, bah, I've done that for years!)

The other day we asked him if there was a biggest number. He said "A trillion." My husband said, "But what about one trillion and one?" Benjamin thought that over. I asked the same question yesterday, and he replied, "No." I asked why not, and he said, "Because they keep going on and on and on {pause} forever."

His dad is so proud. (And so is his mom, really.)

Gimme 5!

Sam learned a trick today! I say, "Gimme 5!" And he slaps my hand. I know it's not walking or even waving...But of course I think he is brilliant. It's the first time I taught him a "skill" too, so that was exciting. Just thought I'd share! :)

The Sun Will Come Out...

I am a bit of a closet Broadway freak. The earliest obsession I can remember was centered around "Annie". There are numerous hilarious pictures of me on Christmas morning clutching Annie dolls, stationery, etc. I dressed up as Annie for Halloween, and I learned my first swear word from the song "NYC" on the cast recording I used to play on my Fischer Price record player (I'm sure you had that same record player too).

So, you can imagine my delight when my husband raced down the stairs tonight to have me come and sit outside our 2 1/2 year old's bedroom. From the other side of the closed door we could hear her tiny little high pitched voice singing, "The sun will come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun." Then she really went for it, "To-MORROW! To-MORROW! I LOVE YOU! To-Morrow! You're only a day awaaaaayy."

The New Normal

I had a couple of weeks a while back where I truly thought I might be headed for insanity, but things have stabilized and all is right with the world. To prove my point, here are a few snippets from today:
6:30 am: Elli has donned a tutu, dress-up shoes, and a pink tiara and is holding a sparkly wand, twirling with the sheer joy of being a girl

12:00 pm: Elli and Annie (2 1/2 and almost 6 months) are wearing only diapers and giggling together on my bed.

8:45 pm: Both girls are asleep and I am on a free-woman Target run. I pull into a space between a BMW and a new, yellow Corvette in my 1995 Plymouth Voyager. All I feel is gratitude that someone gave us that van and think about how completely uncomfortable either of those cars would be for me at this stage in my life.

Good Night, Mommas. Hope you get some rest.