It's a girl. Yep, that is what I said: IT is a GIRL. But let me go back to the beginning, that will be better.
About 4 months ago, I got this nagging feeling that I just might be pregnant. The chance really seemed pretty slim. When you know what all has to go just exactly right to actually get pregnant to begin with, it seems amazing anyone gets pregnant ever. I have friends, many friends who try for months to get pregnant, and it always seems that if I ever get lax and let opportunity knock, I'm pregnant. But I suppose we each have our crosses to bear. So, I had this nagging feeling. I kept having these rational conversations with myself - wait, can one have a ration conversation with one's self? That seems the opposite of rational, right? Anyway, I would say "you are NOT pregnant. Just relax. Everything is just normal. You don't have any particular pregnancy symptoms. You're just hysterical." I kind of thought it was because I had some oral surgery scheduled. Every time I have some dental event, I turn out to be pregnant and it turns into a big ordeal. So, I really thought I was just over-reacting to that.
I tried to keep myself busy and laughing it up with others to distract myself from the ticking clock in the back of my mind. You can take a pregnancy test in 5 days...4 days...3 days.... I was at my friend Karen's Pampered Chef party laughing it up on the outside but actually panicking on the inside. As I left her house, I knew that I had to get the test that night and take it in the morning because I had to give the Oral Surgeon 24 hours notice. I'd be taking the test early in the scheme of things, which isn't optimal, but to ease my conscience, it had to be done. I nearly hyperventilated paying for it.
The next morning I awoke after a tumultuous night of sleep. I couldn't wait any longer. I marched into the bathroom. I needed it to say negative so I could have my oral surgery and move on. I had been telling everyone it was pretty clear to us that God had only planned on us having two children. Occasionally, I wavered in the very deepest dark depths of my mind. I would think about another child kind of romantically. But after a while, I felt strongly that our time for new children was over. Maybe God wanted us to adopt...hey! There you go! So, this test had to come out negative because that's the way God was leading, right?
Two minutes later - no make that 30 seconds later the bright red lines glowing on a stick let me know where God was really leading. I'm not sure the word "shocked" is the accurate enough, but for now, it will do. I was not excited, I knew that. I felt betrayed and tricked. And guilty for not being excited and elated. And there was poor Nate awakened early by an insane wife, only to find her having a nervous breakdown simultaneously with a panic attack. He tried to soothe me but I just couldn't be reasoned with. I called the OB's office as soon as the switchboard would pick up; she laughed at my ranting about "how could this be true? these tests have to have some margin for error, right?" Seriously, she laughed. She was kind though and congratulated me which made me feel even more guilty. I didn't really feel like being congratulated but condoled. I spoke to the oral surgeon who naturally postponed the procedure. Great, my life was going to be put on hold again. I'm sure you are picking up on how selfish I am. It didn't escape me either which piled on a few more pounds of guilt. Babies are blessings, what is wrong with me?
The symptoms started falling in line - horrible nausea and paralyzing fatigue. I was pretty sure I could psychosomatically give myself symptoms, so those weren't really that convincing. I took another test just to be sure. It was still positive. I wallowed in my guilt and physical decline. Then I talked to my friend Emily. She had been in on this whole ordeal from the very beginning - and I mean from the time when I just sort of thought it could be a possibility. She didn't give me any Pollyanna sunshine "Children are a blessing" line of pep talk. Instead, she said "Well of course your not excited. I think that's pretty natural. You've had two stressful pregnancies with complications and miscarriages. And now you're pregnant again when you thought you were moving out of that phase. Sure you're scared. I'll just pray that God changes your heart and He will." At that moment, a whole world of guilt lifted off my shoulders and I realized I was scared. Pregnancy is not a condition a girl has much control over. There is really precious little you can do, most of it is happening while you go about your daily life despite you. Also at this time, I thought, "If God has allowed you to get pregnant, it is for his own good reasons. If those reasons are to have another miscarriage, okay. If it's to have another healthy baby despite some complications, okay. It's just 9 months."
That sounds spiritually strong, but I continued to worry. I've never been much of a worrier, but it's amazing what children bring out in you! I was and am continually handing this over to God, which seems redundant because as I've already pointed out, I don't' have much control over this situation in the first place.
My sons of thunder are super excited to have another baby on the way. Carter really wanted another sibling and really wanted a girl. So, in truth, I blame a lot of this on him. He tells me often he loves me but not nearly as much as he loves God, and I believe him. I think God listens to his prayers and delights in answer yes to them. Carter wanted a baby sister. Even though he thought it would probably be a boy, he would still rather it be a sister.
So, yesterday, after the a/c went out in our house, a leak in the upstairs bathroom caused a deluge to drain through the living room ceiling fan, and my mother became rather ill, I managed to make it, with my sons and husband to my OB's office for the gender revealing ultrasound. Going in, I was mostly concerned about how the baby was - brain, heart, umbilical cord, kidneys, arms, legs, hands, feet, face. The lady said everything looked good. And now the moment of truth. Except, the baby had it's hand covering the important part. She shook my belly a little to get the baby to move. And AHA! It's a girl!
Wait, what?! Nathan said "how does that tell you it's a girl?" She showed us and added "and there's no penis there - so that's a girl." Nathan asked for a percentage of assurance. She said "I never say 100% but I have two girls and they both looked just like that" pointing at the image. Carter was elated. A sister. Just what he wanted. He had talked to my belly at the beach and listened for a response; "it's a girl" he told me then.
Nathan and I sort of just took in the information, rather in shock. Like this whole pregnancy, everything is a surprise. I thought Nathan was going to be overjoyed to have a baby girl, but he really seemed to be like me; what are we going to do with a girl? What do you do with a girl? Sometimes they seem like a lot of fun but other times they seem like a lot of work.
So, once the boys went to bed after a long evening of meetings and a/c repairmen and wet/dry vacuuming, I said to Nathan "this girl might be just like Susanna. As long as I can remember her - back to when she was in 1st grade, she has always seemed to be the sweetest girl. Maybe she did "mark" this baby as they say in the mountains. Maybe she marked her with her nurturing grace and maturity?" He smiled from ear to ear. Then I smiled and said "Or MAYBE she'll be like Mia! No ballet for her - straight into basketball at VBS - always a smile on her face, friendly, wearing the red power ranger costume - leader of the pack -performing to the exit lights!" He laughed out loud and said "Yeah! Either way."
Exactly, either way.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
And so it is for the mother
Nathan and I capped off Carter's first year of real school with the required Parent/Teacher conference. I remember as a child being very nervous when my parents attended these yearly events. It wasn't so much that I was afraid that my teachers would say something to get me in trouble with my parents but rather that my parents would say something to embarrass me. Especially my father. His main purpose as my father, especially in my teens, was to embarrass me at every opportunity. He was good at it, too.
Carter's was kind of different. As we sat there, our mouths dropped in wonder and our brows furrowed in confusion. His teacher told us that he was a wonderful student and a class leader. She had told us these things before, and while they were disorienting for us, we were braced for them. She went on to show us examples of his work and provide suggestions for how to keep him on track over the summer. Frankly, it sounded like three months of homework. Regardless, then she told us that when a new student entered her class and he was kind of shy and had a lisp, she knew immediately the thing to do was to put him next to Carter because Carter would take him under his wing and help him adjust. Then she kind of teared up on us and said "he was just a real blessing to have this year." Talk about awkward! My first instinct is to crack a joke because I don't like displays of emotion, but I fought it off. Here was a teacher who really loved my son and I shouldn't discard her mistiness for my own comfort. She was really the perfect teacher for Carter and he has refused to move on to 1st grade without her.
So, it makes it all the more curious to me when I, his mother who carried his huge 10 pound baby body in my belly, get this kind of treatment:
Me: Carter, what are you eating?
Carter: Uh (moving ever so slyly to hide himself from my line of sight) a...uh...fun dip.
Me: You didn't ask if you could have that and you must ask before you get it.
Carter: Well, I didn't give any to Will...
Me: Will is not allergic to those.
Carter: I know, but you know, the swine flu is going around and you don't know who might have it; I might have it. I don't want to give it to him.
He said it with the greatest sincerity. There was really no where for me to go from there since I was completely thrown.
Then, Nathan but mostly me made the mistake of trying to explain to Carter the difference between rights and privileges. He was under the idea that dessert is a right and we were trying to explain that desserts are really privileges. That is hard to explain to a young child and I figured he was not really even paying attention. Though he was asking pertinent questions. It didn't come up again.
That is until today. He and I were driving toward home and he referenced his age as 7. I corrected him - he is 6. No, no, he insists he's 7. Then he goes on a civil disobedience tirade telling me that "No one can take away my rights! I am 7! You can't take away my rights, no one can and I am SEVEN!" I sat there a slightly dumbfounded but shook my head and said "your age is a fact not a right" hoping he would not bring that small detail up to me when he figured out one cannot be 29 for so many years consecutively. Again, he protested "no one can take away my rights and I am 7." I had no idea where this was coming from nor what he was really meaning so I just said "Being 6 or 7 has nothing to do with your rights. You were born in 2003 and you are 6." My little activist piped up "I am 7! No one can take away my RIGHTS and I AM RIGHT!"
He rendered me speechless again. Carter 2, Me 0. Life will surely only get more complicated with him; he has clearly inherited his Papa Carter's gene for argumentation.
But, I shouldn't leave out our precious little angel, Will. Since his brother is exerting his strong will these days, Will has taken his place on deck and waits his turn to be the strong-willed son when Carter relinquishes the post. One day he sat sweetly curled up next to me on my bed. He reached down and pulled off his sock and stuck his foot directly in my face. Then he asked "which one goes to Target?" For a split second I didn't know what he meant, but when I saw his big toe sticking straight into the air and I began laughing so hard I couldn't speak. Finally, I grabbed his big toe and said "This little piggy went to Target...." I figure, we don't live on a farm, so that makes more sense anyway.
Carter's was kind of different. As we sat there, our mouths dropped in wonder and our brows furrowed in confusion. His teacher told us that he was a wonderful student and a class leader. She had told us these things before, and while they were disorienting for us, we were braced for them. She went on to show us examples of his work and provide suggestions for how to keep him on track over the summer. Frankly, it sounded like three months of homework. Regardless, then she told us that when a new student entered her class and he was kind of shy and had a lisp, she knew immediately the thing to do was to put him next to Carter because Carter would take him under his wing and help him adjust. Then she kind of teared up on us and said "he was just a real blessing to have this year." Talk about awkward! My first instinct is to crack a joke because I don't like displays of emotion, but I fought it off. Here was a teacher who really loved my son and I shouldn't discard her mistiness for my own comfort. She was really the perfect teacher for Carter and he has refused to move on to 1st grade without her.
So, it makes it all the more curious to me when I, his mother who carried his huge 10 pound baby body in my belly, get this kind of treatment:
Me: Carter, what are you eating?
Carter: Uh (moving ever so slyly to hide himself from my line of sight) a...uh...fun dip.
Me: You didn't ask if you could have that and you must ask before you get it.
Carter: Well, I didn't give any to Will...
Me: Will is not allergic to those.
Carter: I know, but you know, the swine flu is going around and you don't know who might have it; I might have it. I don't want to give it to him.
He said it with the greatest sincerity. There was really no where for me to go from there since I was completely thrown.
Then, Nathan but mostly me made the mistake of trying to explain to Carter the difference between rights and privileges. He was under the idea that dessert is a right and we were trying to explain that desserts are really privileges. That is hard to explain to a young child and I figured he was not really even paying attention. Though he was asking pertinent questions. It didn't come up again.
That is until today. He and I were driving toward home and he referenced his age as 7. I corrected him - he is 6. No, no, he insists he's 7. Then he goes on a civil disobedience tirade telling me that "No one can take away my rights! I am 7! You can't take away my rights, no one can and I am SEVEN!" I sat there a slightly dumbfounded but shook my head and said "your age is a fact not a right" hoping he would not bring that small detail up to me when he figured out one cannot be 29 for so many years consecutively. Again, he protested "no one can take away my rights and I am 7." I had no idea where this was coming from nor what he was really meaning so I just said "Being 6 or 7 has nothing to do with your rights. You were born in 2003 and you are 6." My little activist piped up "I am 7! No one can take away my RIGHTS and I AM RIGHT!"
He rendered me speechless again. Carter 2, Me 0. Life will surely only get more complicated with him; he has clearly inherited his Papa Carter's gene for argumentation.
But, I shouldn't leave out our precious little angel, Will. Since his brother is exerting his strong will these days, Will has taken his place on deck and waits his turn to be the strong-willed son when Carter relinquishes the post. One day he sat sweetly curled up next to me on my bed. He reached down and pulled off his sock and stuck his foot directly in my face. Then he asked "which one goes to Target?" For a split second I didn't know what he meant, but when I saw his big toe sticking straight into the air and I began laughing so hard I couldn't speak. Finally, I grabbed his big toe and said "This little piggy went to Target...." I figure, we don't live on a farm, so that makes more sense anyway.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Life Flies By
It's Mother's Day. That means it's May. That means that Carter has less than 1 month left of Kindergarten. It also means that Will has one last day of Mom's-Day-Out. That means Carter will be officially a "rising" 1st grader. And Will is almost 3 pre-K. Where has the time gone? Why does it feel like time is whooooshing by as I stand still? I suppose that is the curse of being a mother: watching those little people you used to cradle in the crook of your arm transform - in what seems like a blink- into a reading, teeth-losing, big kid.
Carter lost his first tooth. It was, of course, tramatic. Nathan took us out to eat on Tax Day and as we sat in the booth discussing the crazy decorations on the wall, Carter used his tongue to push his tooth back and forth. The poor little thing was clearly hanging by a thread. I asked him to let me pull it. He almost consented but I let him back out since I didn't really want him to lose his first tooth in TGI Friday's. I warned him, though, that it would be a miracle if that tooth made it through supper. Surprisingly, it did. He also shocked me by pointing up on the wall and saying "that says kitchen." I asked him how he knew that and he said "I just read it." He just read it, of course. So after supper, it was off to Maggie Moos for some ice cream for Nathan and Carter. Since Will had his special ice cream in the car and I didn't want any, he and I waited in the van. As Carter sat down, I noticed there was a bigger gap in the bottom of his mouth. I asked him "Carter! Where is your tooth?" Nathan quickly checked him. Sure, enough, it was gone.
Well, this caused all manner of panic and anxiety. First, it was no where to be found. Had he swallowed it? Was it on the floor or on the sidewalk or in his cone? Next Carter began to ask questions like "will the tooth fairy even come if I don't have the tooth?" I reassured him that she would but probably not that night since the tooth fairy has to have 24 hours notice. See, she makes our her route by 5 p.m. and anything after that is probably not going to get in her run. That made good sense to him. I told him I would look it up on the internet about what he should do. After some "research", we decided that the best procedure was for him to make a card for the tooth fairy explaining his dilemma. He did so, and even drew and cut out "tooth" to replace the real one. Of course, all this took a couple of days and he finally got it under his pillow on a Friday night.
A good tooth fairy would go in early and make the swap while it's still dark. Unfortunately, our tooth fairy kind of forgot - only to wake up panic stricken Saturday morning. Luckily for her, Carter was still sleeping and so was Will. She grabbed her two golden Presidential dollars and carefully tip-toed up the stairs, trying to hit all the non-creaky spots. She sneaked in to his room as he lay quietly sleeping. She stuck her hand under his pillow in an effort to retrieve the card and "tooth." He began to stir! Silent panic. She froze momentarily. ARG! If only it was dark out. After 3 seconds of freezing, she ducked down at the end of his bed behind a huge dragon hoping if he opened his eyes he wouldn't detect her. He continued to sleep. Her muscles relaxed as she peered out his open door through Will's open door. It was dangerously close to Will's waking time and that would be the last thing this Tooth Fairy needed.
Again, she gently slipped her arm under his pillow. His breath caught and he shifted his position. More panic. The Tooth Fairy gently stuck the coins under the pillow along with a note she wrote to him and dashed down the stairs as quickly as possible. Mr. Tooth Fairy was waiting and got the full report. But the tooth fairy was unsatisfied by having to leave the card and substitute tooth. She was determined to try again. So, once more she tip-toed up the stairs, crept into his room, and ever so delicately maneuvered her arm under his pillow. WHERE WAS THIS CARD? It must have been placed exactly under his 20 pound head. Well, it felt that heavy to the tooth fairy. Again, he stirred and she bolted back down the stairs to fairyland. After consultation with Mr. Tooth Fairy, it was agreed that his items would just have to be left to protect their secret fairy identity.
Not 5 minutes after the tooth fairy winged her way into the sunrise, Carter woke up. His room is directly over ours. We heard feet hit the floor. We noticed a measured pause and then light foot steps over to the stairs and down them. He came into our room and was somewhat pleased with his gold, but it was clear he was disappointed the tooth fairy didn't take his card. Luckily, the internet research had prepared him for such a circumstance as it said that sometimes the Tooth Fairy cannot take extraneous items with her - depending where you land on her route and how much room she has left in her pouch. He was, however, pleased with the note she left him. Clearly, she had read his note.
The Tooth Fairy business is tough work and she should definitely be receiving hazardous pay.
Carter lost his first tooth. It was, of course, tramatic. Nathan took us out to eat on Tax Day and as we sat in the booth discussing the crazy decorations on the wall, Carter used his tongue to push his tooth back and forth. The poor little thing was clearly hanging by a thread. I asked him to let me pull it. He almost consented but I let him back out since I didn't really want him to lose his first tooth in TGI Friday's. I warned him, though, that it would be a miracle if that tooth made it through supper. Surprisingly, it did. He also shocked me by pointing up on the wall and saying "that says kitchen." I asked him how he knew that and he said "I just read it." He just read it, of course. So after supper, it was off to Maggie Moos for some ice cream for Nathan and Carter. Since Will had his special ice cream in the car and I didn't want any, he and I waited in the van. As Carter sat down, I noticed there was a bigger gap in the bottom of his mouth. I asked him "Carter! Where is your tooth?" Nathan quickly checked him. Sure, enough, it was gone.
Well, this caused all manner of panic and anxiety. First, it was no where to be found. Had he swallowed it? Was it on the floor or on the sidewalk or in his cone? Next Carter began to ask questions like "will the tooth fairy even come if I don't have the tooth?" I reassured him that she would but probably not that night since the tooth fairy has to have 24 hours notice. See, she makes our her route by 5 p.m. and anything after that is probably not going to get in her run. That made good sense to him. I told him I would look it up on the internet about what he should do. After some "research", we decided that the best procedure was for him to make a card for the tooth fairy explaining his dilemma. He did so, and even drew and cut out "tooth" to replace the real one. Of course, all this took a couple of days and he finally got it under his pillow on a Friday night.
A good tooth fairy would go in early and make the swap while it's still dark. Unfortunately, our tooth fairy kind of forgot - only to wake up panic stricken Saturday morning. Luckily for her, Carter was still sleeping and so was Will. She grabbed her two golden Presidential dollars and carefully tip-toed up the stairs, trying to hit all the non-creaky spots. She sneaked in to his room as he lay quietly sleeping. She stuck her hand under his pillow in an effort to retrieve the card and "tooth." He began to stir! Silent panic. She froze momentarily. ARG! If only it was dark out. After 3 seconds of freezing, she ducked down at the end of his bed behind a huge dragon hoping if he opened his eyes he wouldn't detect her. He continued to sleep. Her muscles relaxed as she peered out his open door through Will's open door. It was dangerously close to Will's waking time and that would be the last thing this Tooth Fairy needed.
Again, she gently slipped her arm under his pillow. His breath caught and he shifted his position. More panic. The Tooth Fairy gently stuck the coins under the pillow along with a note she wrote to him and dashed down the stairs as quickly as possible. Mr. Tooth Fairy was waiting and got the full report. But the tooth fairy was unsatisfied by having to leave the card and substitute tooth. She was determined to try again. So, once more she tip-toed up the stairs, crept into his room, and ever so delicately maneuvered her arm under his pillow. WHERE WAS THIS CARD? It must have been placed exactly under his 20 pound head. Well, it felt that heavy to the tooth fairy. Again, he stirred and she bolted back down the stairs to fairyland. After consultation with Mr. Tooth Fairy, it was agreed that his items would just have to be left to protect their secret fairy identity.
Not 5 minutes after the tooth fairy winged her way into the sunrise, Carter woke up. His room is directly over ours. We heard feet hit the floor. We noticed a measured pause and then light foot steps over to the stairs and down them. He came into our room and was somewhat pleased with his gold, but it was clear he was disappointed the tooth fairy didn't take his card. Luckily, the internet research had prepared him for such a circumstance as it said that sometimes the Tooth Fairy cannot take extraneous items with her - depending where you land on her route and how much room she has left in her pouch. He was, however, pleased with the note she left him. Clearly, she had read his note.
The Tooth Fairy business is tough work and she should definitely be receiving hazardous pay.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Single Mom Superhero Nightmare
This week my very helpful husband has been out of the country on a mission trip with our church. I knew that it would be a challenge for me to keep up with our two boys all by myself. I am well aware how much work they actually require. I am equally aware of how much my husband chips in with these thousands of tasks every day - from endlessly supplying them food to fuel their seemingly unlimited cache of energy to brushing their 40 little teeth. Personally, I am always exhausted by their bedtime needs. I just want to tuck them in, say prayers, and say good-night. My mother says that is what I was like as a child, so I suppose it's carried over into my adulthood. Will is kind of like that. He is happy to get in his bed and satisfied with a prayer and maybe a short book. He might even want to look at the book by himself. This week, Will surprised me by saying, "Turn off light, please" as soon as he got in his bed. I found that quality endearing. Carter, on the other hand, is more labor intensive. He wants to read books and look at pictures and hug and cuddle and pray. But, a mother has to draw the line somewhere. One book, one prayer, one hug, and then lights out. Don't I sound so strong and in control?? Well, don't believe it. I really feel guilty for not giving Carter all the hugs and stories he wants.
Going in to this week, I was dreading it. It is the first time Nathan has left on a trip and I've had no help for most of the week. Usually, I finagle people to come over and help out for all but two nights. Grandparents, cousins, aunts, friends, anyone who will be kind enough to spend the night, eat a meal, or change a diaper received the pitiful plea. However, this time, I just didn't do it. My mother was not feeling well, and I surely didn't want her to travel up. My cousin was busy with work. Everyone was busy. Honestly, I wanted to try to go it alone; be a single mom for the week and test my mettle. I thought with Carter in school all day and Will having one day at school right in the middle was going to make this a successful foray into my stint as Wonder Woman. Still, I'm not insane, I did book my in-laws for the next to the last night, for Will to sleep over and then all of us for the last night. It was completely necessary for me to have care for Will on the last day because I had a check-up scheduled and Will really hates doctors.
I have to say this little experiment has taught me many things. For one, I was very organized. I planned the week's meals all in advance. I consulted the weather for the week and laid out Carter's clothes for the whole week. We all ate together at the table every night. We ate vegetables. We did homework. We played. I managed to get the house in order. The one thing I didn't do a lot of was sleep. I was so consumed by my many tasks I found that I couldn't sleep well at night. Of course, I had an abiding desire to go to bed early. Every night my eyes would barely stay open long enough to get the children in bed. It is likely this unrelenting urge that caused me to dread getting Carter all squared away. I just wanted it to be over so I could sleep.
By last night, I felt I was likely dancing with fate. Something dark loomed on my horizon. I couldn't quite make out what this ominous feeling meant, but it lingered in my mind. As we baked cookies for Carter's class Valentine party, my head irritated a bit, my eyes burned, and my back ached. As soon as possible, which was about 11 o'clock, I sank into my pillow lifeless and happy. Again, I didn't sleep well. I awoke repeatedly to check the time. I finally rose at 6:40 to get on with my last day of superhero work. Carter got off to school just fine. I went to my doctor's appointment and that is when it started. By it I mean my nervous breakdown. After the easy and uncomplicated visit, I broke down crying. I sat in my Van of Solitude and tried to get a grip. I kept wondering why I was so emotional. What was wrong? What is going on? I calmed down at last and got my lunch. Then, I walked up to Carter's Valentine party and helped out some. I was so tired on the way home, I could almost feel the coolness of the pillow on my cheek. I lay down, thinking I'd never be able to sleep because I do not nap easily during the day.
The next thing I knew my eyes opened and I looked at my watch. 3:28! WHAT?! I don't remember putting on my shoes or coat. The next thing I remember was that I was running and I was at the end of our block. I crossed in traffic - which I never do during school hours. I ran faster. I saw there were no parents cars on the street, no kids milling about by the side door. I checked my watch again. Was it really 3:30? Maybe it was just 2:30 and I really had 30 more minutes. No, 3:30 flashed in my face? Is it not 4:30 and I'm an hour late? There are no cars, no kids! My brain was still half asleep, I was confused, and I was so scared. I turned the corner of the back of the building and there were no cars in the usually eternal car line. I ran faster. How did it get so deserted in 15 minutes?? Where was everyone? As I came into view of the back door where I pick up Carter, there he stood, the only child left, between two teachers. He yelled "there she is!" ran to me. I apologized to the teachers and they smiled and waved it off. I explained in a word that I feel asleep. They just laughed. Then I really broke down. I just started crying and I couldn't stop. It was like a nightmare. The deserted school, the running, the tight feeling in my chest. I couldn't believe that it was real.
The boys have been so good all week long. They really haven't given me any trouble. Carter has been especially helpful and sweet. And here is where it really shown. He looked at me crying and said "It's okay mama. It's okay. I wasn't scared." He seemed no less worse for the wear. In fact, he was just as buoyant as ever. He chatted on as we walked and I tried to see between my tears. He's a tough kid. Seriously, though, can someone tell me how that school was cleared out in 15 minutes? FIFTEEN.
So, here's to single moms. How you can do it alone I will never know. My hat is off to you.
Going in to this week, I was dreading it. It is the first time Nathan has left on a trip and I've had no help for most of the week. Usually, I finagle people to come over and help out for all but two nights. Grandparents, cousins, aunts, friends, anyone who will be kind enough to spend the night, eat a meal, or change a diaper received the pitiful plea. However, this time, I just didn't do it. My mother was not feeling well, and I surely didn't want her to travel up. My cousin was busy with work. Everyone was busy. Honestly, I wanted to try to go it alone; be a single mom for the week and test my mettle. I thought with Carter in school all day and Will having one day at school right in the middle was going to make this a successful foray into my stint as Wonder Woman. Still, I'm not insane, I did book my in-laws for the next to the last night, for Will to sleep over and then all of us for the last night. It was completely necessary for me to have care for Will on the last day because I had a check-up scheduled and Will really hates doctors.
I have to say this little experiment has taught me many things. For one, I was very organized. I planned the week's meals all in advance. I consulted the weather for the week and laid out Carter's clothes for the whole week. We all ate together at the table every night. We ate vegetables. We did homework. We played. I managed to get the house in order. The one thing I didn't do a lot of was sleep. I was so consumed by my many tasks I found that I couldn't sleep well at night. Of course, I had an abiding desire to go to bed early. Every night my eyes would barely stay open long enough to get the children in bed. It is likely this unrelenting urge that caused me to dread getting Carter all squared away. I just wanted it to be over so I could sleep.
By last night, I felt I was likely dancing with fate. Something dark loomed on my horizon. I couldn't quite make out what this ominous feeling meant, but it lingered in my mind. As we baked cookies for Carter's class Valentine party, my head irritated a bit, my eyes burned, and my back ached. As soon as possible, which was about 11 o'clock, I sank into my pillow lifeless and happy. Again, I didn't sleep well. I awoke repeatedly to check the time. I finally rose at 6:40 to get on with my last day of superhero work. Carter got off to school just fine. I went to my doctor's appointment and that is when it started. By it I mean my nervous breakdown. After the easy and uncomplicated visit, I broke down crying. I sat in my Van of Solitude and tried to get a grip. I kept wondering why I was so emotional. What was wrong? What is going on? I calmed down at last and got my lunch. Then, I walked up to Carter's Valentine party and helped out some. I was so tired on the way home, I could almost feel the coolness of the pillow on my cheek. I lay down, thinking I'd never be able to sleep because I do not nap easily during the day.
The next thing I knew my eyes opened and I looked at my watch. 3:28! WHAT?! I don't remember putting on my shoes or coat. The next thing I remember was that I was running and I was at the end of our block. I crossed in traffic - which I never do during school hours. I ran faster. I saw there were no parents cars on the street, no kids milling about by the side door. I checked my watch again. Was it really 3:30? Maybe it was just 2:30 and I really had 30 more minutes. No, 3:30 flashed in my face? Is it not 4:30 and I'm an hour late? There are no cars, no kids! My brain was still half asleep, I was confused, and I was so scared. I turned the corner of the back of the building and there were no cars in the usually eternal car line. I ran faster. How did it get so deserted in 15 minutes?? Where was everyone? As I came into view of the back door where I pick up Carter, there he stood, the only child left, between two teachers. He yelled "there she is!" ran to me. I apologized to the teachers and they smiled and waved it off. I explained in a word that I feel asleep. They just laughed. Then I really broke down. I just started crying and I couldn't stop. It was like a nightmare. The deserted school, the running, the tight feeling in my chest. I couldn't believe that it was real.
The boys have been so good all week long. They really haven't given me any trouble. Carter has been especially helpful and sweet. And here is where it really shown. He looked at me crying and said "It's okay mama. It's okay. I wasn't scared." He seemed no less worse for the wear. In fact, he was just as buoyant as ever. He chatted on as we walked and I tried to see between my tears. He's a tough kid. Seriously, though, can someone tell me how that school was cleared out in 15 minutes? FIFTEEN.
So, here's to single moms. How you can do it alone I will never know. My hat is off to you.
Friday, January 9, 2009
The 5 Year Old
There are few things in my life that has given me more joy than when Carter skips. I don't know how or exactly when he learned how to do it, but suddenly one day this fall he could skip. We were walking home from school and I asked, as I always do "did you have a good day of school?" He chirped "yep" and skipped out in front of me. I immediately felt a smile spread across my face. He was completely unaware and lacked any self-consciousness about it. It was contagious. I could feel myself wanting to join in and be a Kindergartner again myself.
Since then, he continues to break out in spontaneous skipping. And every time, it makes my heart and my spirits lighter. I wish he could pull off skipping in such an innocent and boyish way for the rest of his life, but I recognize there is limited window that skipping is allowed for a boy. I mean, if Nathan took off skipping I'd laugh in hysterics and for reasons that aren't so kind. This is such a magical moment for me with Carter. I find myself in anguish that Kindergarten is half over. He's grown so tall and knows so much. I have seen the first graders and maybe they still skip when they are feeling joyful, but it's hard to say. I'm willing to bet second grade boys have nothing to do with it.
I suppose I should try to keep a more balanced view, you know, throw in a few thoughts of when he's being stubborn or whiny, or repeating the same phrase hundreds of times in a row, but I can't always. The cold, hard truth is that he is basically, a sweet, thoughtful, and loving boy. He is always ready with a hug and kiss, he is usually happy to help out with his little brother, and he loves having responsibility. I suppose someday he'll be a teenager and all of this skipping euphoria will have dissipated in a gray cloud of mumbling disrespect. Alas.
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