Holy Crap

You wouldn't believe this moment if you saw it - I promise.  I know because I felt like it was either a dream or a nightmare - can't decide which one!

Let's start with the nightmare part:  We've all been there -- public place, baby, poop all the way up the back (threatening to touch the hairline if it hadn't been caught in just the nick of time).  Yep- disgusting.

We were in Madison at the Boston store when the explosion began.  I turned to my mom, who was trying on shoes, and said, "Better go - stinky here needs to be changed."  Sensing that this was gonna be good, daughter number one came along to join in the fun.

Somewhere between unpacking my poop-bomb and wondering if I have enough wipes, Annessa says, "Mom, was I ever baptized?  Payton had show-and-tell today, and she told us about her baptism."

Now,  about baptism.  I understand that it's a very sensitive subject for some people.  Rich and I do the whole "Believer's Baptism" where you choose to express your faith and obey God AFTER you have surrendered your life to Him and His will.  (After all, Jesus was baptized as an adult, as was everyone else in the Bible.  But I digress.....) If this is against everything you believe in, that's okay.  I understand.  Just keep reading.  It gets good, I promise.

 This was one of those moments I had imagined having with her in front of a fire or on a picnic or something dreamy like that.  But.  Of course. Reality doesn't work the way our minds picture it.  So.  I took a deep breath (of stinky air) and began to explain this to Annessa.

"Well, I believe in God mom.  Can I be baptized?"

"Hmmm....Do you know what sin is?"

"No."

"Sin is when we do something that we know is wrong, but we do it anyway.  We all sin.  Like everyday." I said, wondering if that was an acceptable answer for a five-year-old.  Suddenly all of the "churchy" people flashed before my eyes, and I hoped this explanation was biblically correct.

Now, let's not forget the poop.  Oh, the poop.  And while your at it, add some crying to that mental movie you have going on.

"So, in order to be baptized," I continued above the desperate cries from daughter number two to get me to stop holding her legs in air and wiping her back with a cold wipe.  I mean come on, doesn't everyone like the warm feeling of poop on their backs?  "You have to believe that God sent his son, Jesus to die on the cross for our sins. That means we can go to Heaven someday and be with God because Jesus helped us."

 Holy crap.  Literally.  I was preaching the gospel in the midst of what was quite possibly the worst crap Elaina had ever taken.

"I believe that mom.  I do."

Music to my ears.  My child confessing her faith to me... How blessed am I?  Seriously?

Now, is this something she really believes or does she "just" want to go through the pomp and circumstance of a baptism?  I kinda think it's a little of both.  Either way, it's moments like these that, as a mom, I know I was put on earth to have.  What could be better than sharing Jesus' love with your child?

 Expect maybe if it didn't involve a boat load of crap.  

The Second Time Around

My baby is two months old today.  Two months.  My maternity leave will be ending soon and as I compare it to Annessa's, it's 180 degrees different.

With Annessa I was unsure about my ability to be a mom (unsure is putting it lightly).  My need to do it "perfectly" stood in the way of bonding with my newborn.  I remember doing silly things like sticking a thermomitor into her bath water to make sure it was the exact degree that the all-mighty internet told me it should be.  I ran a tight ship - all feedings were exactly 3 hours apart; then 4 hours apart.  There was a lot of bouncing and pacifying to achieve this perfect schedule.  This schedule was my pathway to sleeping through the night - nothing - not even a trip to the mall would cause me to veer from these internet-ordained feeding times.  Good bedtime habits start early, you know.  Ha! I wish my 27 year old self could see my first daughter's bedtime habits now -- she would be mortified.

But this time....this time is sooo much different.  I feel more confident (ironic how feeling more confident as a mom means KNOWING that you will screw up and being okay with that).  There was no insecurity that stood in the way of bonding with Elaina.  I finally understand it when people say, "I feel in love with her the moment I saw her." Now, this isn't to say that I didn't feel love for Annessa right away -- I did.  It's just that the "Holy-shit-I'm-a-mom" factor clouded all that love until I got my head out of my a$$. As a dear friend advised, I started to take my cues from my baby instead of  baby books written by people I didn't know about babies that were off in some far away land living perfect little baby lives.  Come to think of it, I have know idea where those baby books I read so religiously the first time are at the moment....

The first time around, I felt like I was playing the part of being a mom.  Washing the bottles, changing diapers, giving baths, and, oh yeah, dressing her up like she was my little doll.  I'm not sure when the role-plahying stopped and I settled into my new title of mom, but I think it was somewhere around her first smile....I remember that moment so vividly (which is a triumph for me as Rich would tell you that I have the memory of a goldfish).  She had me at the smile.

With Elaina, our lives were already altered.  She slipped right into our Friday nights at home.  Our family bed (I know, I know...NOT what I planned, but it is what it is.  Refer to earlier posts for very rational explanations of why this thing I said I would "NEVER do" happened.  Next thing you know I will be rollin' around town in a people carrier.)

This time around, I even love her cry.  I know, pathetic, but true.  And you know what I love the most?  Seeing my two greatest accomplishments love each other.