It's official. I am the mom in the household.
Last night I stood in front of my 47 eighth graders in our new church and read each name as they came up to recieve their "diplomas" from Fr. Dan. This ceremony is largely symbolic as an eighth grade diploma makes no one marketable for a job, but it is a good transition from the things of childhood to the slightly more grown up world of high school.
When I finally made my way home, my husband greeted me with the information that Adam had a large, angry looking red patch on his back. He detailed what he had done in an effort to make the baby more comfortable and then left it in my hands to solve.
What I realized is that this is a bit of a change in my relationship with my husband. He has faith in me as a mother to do whatever is appropriate to heal our son. He doesn't know what to do, but believes in me to handle it.
I am not only a mom, now I am the mom in our house.
Showing posts with label graces. Show all posts
Showing posts with label graces. Show all posts
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
We Interrupt this Race, for a Moment of Grace...
I literally was placing the cooler in the trunk when my phone beeped with a text, "The race starts at one. Come at 2:30."
The Indianapolis 500 causes traffic around the Speedway to seize in every direction for hours. There is a very small window while the race is actually going on that movement is possible. If you stay out too long, like I did last year, you find your highway exits blocked. We could see our apartment and could have abandoned the car and walked there. But drive there? No way. We spent two hours trying to get home.
So with more time before we left than I expected, I came in and flipped Adam on his tummy. Seems an odd thing to do with extra time, but this boy needs the practice. I settled in with a magazine. As my butt hit the chair, he promptly threw up on his activity mat and then laid his freshly washed head in it and cried.
Plan B. A quick wash, cuddle time, and a nap.
I have a rule that there are to be no babies in our bed with us. EVER. Ismael conveniently ignores my proclamation from time to time despite my dire warnings to do him great harm if he continues. I know too many people who thought a baby sleeping in their bed with them was harmless. Fast forward five years and they are trying to pry the pre-kindergartner out of their king size bed and into his or her own. No thank you.
I have to admit, there is something alluring about cuddling up with your son, if you can get past the initial thrashing, poking, pulling, and kicking. He laid there looking lovingly at me as he pulled on my lips, stuck his finger up my nose, cut my lip with his death grasp, and pulled my hair. He then turned himself and kicked the you know what out of my arm while screeching with sheer delight.
If this is what he does to Bear at night, I think Bear is a fool for not going on strike long ago.
I laid there reading my magazine and getting angry about one of the newer mommy books. To be fair, I have not read the book or much about it, but there is something in the title that is meant to be funny I am sure: "Occasional moments of grace."
I looked over at my son who had closed his eyes, settled down and fallen asleep while keeping his outstretched hand on my arm.
A moment of grace.
I would have missed it if I had come in and gone about my chores that surely could use some extra attention.
I was reminded of my original argument when I started this blog. Motherhood (and life for that matter) is a continuous collection of God's Smallest Graces, IF we only recognize them.
The Indianapolis 500 causes traffic around the Speedway to seize in every direction for hours. There is a very small window while the race is actually going on that movement is possible. If you stay out too long, like I did last year, you find your highway exits blocked. We could see our apartment and could have abandoned the car and walked there. But drive there? No way. We spent two hours trying to get home.
So with more time before we left than I expected, I came in and flipped Adam on his tummy. Seems an odd thing to do with extra time, but this boy needs the practice. I settled in with a magazine. As my butt hit the chair, he promptly threw up on his activity mat and then laid his freshly washed head in it and cried.
Plan B. A quick wash, cuddle time, and a nap.
I have a rule that there are to be no babies in our bed with us. EVER. Ismael conveniently ignores my proclamation from time to time despite my dire warnings to do him great harm if he continues. I know too many people who thought a baby sleeping in their bed with them was harmless. Fast forward five years and they are trying to pry the pre-kindergartner out of their king size bed and into his or her own. No thank you.
I have to admit, there is something alluring about cuddling up with your son, if you can get past the initial thrashing, poking, pulling, and kicking. He laid there looking lovingly at me as he pulled on my lips, stuck his finger up my nose, cut my lip with his death grasp, and pulled my hair. He then turned himself and kicked the you know what out of my arm while screeching with sheer delight.
If this is what he does to Bear at night, I think Bear is a fool for not going on strike long ago.
I laid there reading my magazine and getting angry about one of the newer mommy books. To be fair, I have not read the book or much about it, but there is something in the title that is meant to be funny I am sure: "Occasional moments of grace."
I looked over at my son who had closed his eyes, settled down and fallen asleep while keeping his outstretched hand on my arm.
A moment of grace.
I would have missed it if I had come in and gone about my chores that surely could use some extra attention.
I was reminded of my original argument when I started this blog. Motherhood (and life for that matter) is a continuous collection of God's Smallest Graces, IF we only recognize them.
A nap always makes everything better.
Like Father, Like Son
"Good thing you carried him, because there sure isn't much of you in him."
Really? That's all my OB had to say the morning after an 18 hour labor and finally a c-section?
Looking at my newborn son's sweet face and thick, black hair, I knew she had a point. I wondered what he would grow to look like. Maybe more like me? His temperament isn't even like me. He has proven to be just like his daddy in that too: quiet, mild, and happy.
I've often wondered what my husband looked like as a baby. I had never seen a picture of him younger than 26, until this arrived in my inbox one day:
To me, this represents one of God's small graces in my life. My mother in law sent this to me as a "treat," not knowing that her email was answering a wish that I harbored in my heart. Ismael is on the right, at the age of 6 months old, with his sister Safia who is a little bit older.
When I compare it to a picture of Adam at 6 months, I can conclude ..... that the doctor was right!
Really? That's all my OB had to say the morning after an 18 hour labor and finally a c-section?
Looking at my newborn son's sweet face and thick, black hair, I knew she had a point. I wondered what he would grow to look like. Maybe more like me? His temperament isn't even like me. He has proven to be just like his daddy in that too: quiet, mild, and happy.
I've often wondered what my husband looked like as a baby. I had never seen a picture of him younger than 26, until this arrived in my inbox one day:
To me, this represents one of God's small graces in my life. My mother in law sent this to me as a "treat," not knowing that her email was answering a wish that I harbored in my heart. Ismael is on the right, at the age of 6 months old, with his sister Safia who is a little bit older.
When I compare it to a picture of Adam at 6 months, I can conclude ..... that the doctor was right!
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