Is it POOP?!
After a very restless night with Lucy, I woke out of a deep, groggy sleep desperately trying to remember who I was and where I was and if in fact I was a mama cat. Turns out I am not a mama cat, I was in my bedroom, and I am the mother of a very tired, very cranky teething ten month old.
I literally began the day with the thought, "How long do I have to stay conscious until naptime?!" My second thought was "I am so thankful that I did the dishes before bed," and "Wow! I asked Dave to put the soup away (that I forgot about and texted him a request from our bedroom...) and he put it in a tupperware dish and washed the pot!" Jackpot.
I slogged through the morning getting my husband up and ready for work, packing his lunch, feeding the tiny person, and playing peek-a-boo over the back of the couch. She enjoyed it, but I felt bad because it was all the energy that I had to give her. By nine o'clock, she was begging for a nap - as was I! I changed another poopy diaper, nursed her for a few minutes and laid her down in her crib without a peep. I breathed a sigh of relief and as I was about to slip into my bed, my foot landed on something cold, mushy, and unidentifiable. I panicked -- is it poop?! I couldn't turn the light on, because I was afraid I would wake the baby and without my glasses on I squinted frantically in the dark room, groping blindly for my phone.
With my phone finally in hand, I cautiously lifted my foot and to my relief and horror removed a partially digested chunk of pancake from breakfast. I removed the offending pancake bit and finally laid down. So very thankful that it was not poop. I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. When I heard the tiny person talking and then whimpering and then crying, my body was in a state that I can only compare to melted butter. The idea of getting up out of my buttery heaven was something akin to torture. As her crying escalated, I finally solidified and pulled her from her crib. Not before accidentally pushing her over while searching for her pacifier in the dark crib. Note to all future parents: BUY 25 PACIFIERS BEFORE THAT BABY IS EVEN BORN. They will disappear without a trace like snowflakes in a blizzard.
After we got up, we played for a bit, shared a donut and I made a few phone calls. Thankfully she thinks the sound of the phone ringing and a voice over the speaker phone is hilarious and not scary anymore. As she smeared her little face on my leg to remove the excess frosting, I began giggling and then laughing hysterically! She looked at my like I had lost it, but it was quite the opposite.
I had found it! I had found my laugh. I have been moping about, feeling sorry for myself because everything in the world isn't right. There is pain, depression, anxiety, hurt, illness, death, worry, fear, wars, and so many other horrible things.
But there is also joy! Frosting covered kisses! Silly smiles and peek-a-boo! A hot cup of coffee! Modern medicine that allows tiny babies to survive and thrive! Beautiful fall leaves bursting into flame! Stunning silver moons! Remarkable autumn sunrises! Did I mention donuts?!
Too easily I am adsorbed in my daily routine, and I miss the glorious purpose that God has given me. I am his child. I am Lucy's mother. I am Dave's wife. I am Debbie and Gary's daughter. I am Josh, Sarah, and Amanda's sister. I am Hannah, Grace, Emily, Ethan, Seth, Shawnie, Levi, and Taylor's aunt.
I am an encouragement, a joy, a beauty, a stunning creation, a source of laughter, a cook, a chauffeur, a companion, a washer woman, a steward, a kisser of boo boos, a soother of hurt, a voice of reason, lover of happiness.
I am a child of God. I am his child. He loved me enough to send his son to die for me. Even me. Even in my sin. And that is enough. I am enough. His joy is enough. His strength is sufficient.
This is a common thread in my blog, because I have to frequently remind myself of this fact. And as stay at home mommies, many of my friends fight this same battle. Don't let yourself get too down. You are enough. Because He is enough.
I literally began the day with the thought, "How long do I have to stay conscious until naptime?!" My second thought was "I am so thankful that I did the dishes before bed," and "Wow! I asked Dave to put the soup away (that I forgot about and texted him a request from our bedroom...) and he put it in a tupperware dish and washed the pot!" Jackpot.
I slogged through the morning getting my husband up and ready for work, packing his lunch, feeding the tiny person, and playing peek-a-boo over the back of the couch. She enjoyed it, but I felt bad because it was all the energy that I had to give her. By nine o'clock, she was begging for a nap - as was I! I changed another poopy diaper, nursed her for a few minutes and laid her down in her crib without a peep. I breathed a sigh of relief and as I was about to slip into my bed, my foot landed on something cold, mushy, and unidentifiable. I panicked -- is it poop?! I couldn't turn the light on, because I was afraid I would wake the baby and without my glasses on I squinted frantically in the dark room, groping blindly for my phone.
With my phone finally in hand, I cautiously lifted my foot and to my relief and horror removed a partially digested chunk of pancake from breakfast. I removed the offending pancake bit and finally laid down. So very thankful that it was not poop. I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. When I heard the tiny person talking and then whimpering and then crying, my body was in a state that I can only compare to melted butter. The idea of getting up out of my buttery heaven was something akin to torture. As her crying escalated, I finally solidified and pulled her from her crib. Not before accidentally pushing her over while searching for her pacifier in the dark crib. Note to all future parents: BUY 25 PACIFIERS BEFORE THAT BABY IS EVEN BORN. They will disappear without a trace like snowflakes in a blizzard.
After we got up, we played for a bit, shared a donut and I made a few phone calls. Thankfully she thinks the sound of the phone ringing and a voice over the speaker phone is hilarious and not scary anymore. As she smeared her little face on my leg to remove the excess frosting, I began giggling and then laughing hysterically! She looked at my like I had lost it, but it was quite the opposite.
I had found it! I had found my laugh. I have been moping about, feeling sorry for myself because everything in the world isn't right. There is pain, depression, anxiety, hurt, illness, death, worry, fear, wars, and so many other horrible things.
But there is also joy! Frosting covered kisses! Silly smiles and peek-a-boo! A hot cup of coffee! Modern medicine that allows tiny babies to survive and thrive! Beautiful fall leaves bursting into flame! Stunning silver moons! Remarkable autumn sunrises! Did I mention donuts?!
Too easily I am adsorbed in my daily routine, and I miss the glorious purpose that God has given me. I am his child. I am Lucy's mother. I am Dave's wife. I am Debbie and Gary's daughter. I am Josh, Sarah, and Amanda's sister. I am Hannah, Grace, Emily, Ethan, Seth, Shawnie, Levi, and Taylor's aunt.
I am an encouragement, a joy, a beauty, a stunning creation, a source of laughter, a cook, a chauffeur, a companion, a washer woman, a steward, a kisser of boo boos, a soother of hurt, a voice of reason, lover of happiness.
I am a child of God. I am his child. He loved me enough to send his son to die for me. Even me. Even in my sin. And that is enough. I am enough. His joy is enough. His strength is sufficient.
This is a common thread in my blog, because I have to frequently remind myself of this fact. And as stay at home mommies, many of my friends fight this same battle. Don't let yourself get too down. You are enough. Because He is enough.
Comments
Post a Comment