Monday, July 26, 2010

Country Western

So, I know I'm near 40ish, one because of the "freckles" on my arms, two because there are 20-somethings in my life who ask me what I want at my big "40th" celebration, three because Jason just turned 39 and he's 6 months older than I am, and four because I can do math. It was one of my best subjects until I went to college...40 minus 38.5 equals one and a half years.

I'm cool with that.

Age has always been just a number to me. Yes, it marks the passage of time, but time isn't all bad...not the passing of it, anyway. So much happens within the measurement of time, whether it be good or bad. Since Noah came into my life, I've treasured and respected time much more than I had in the past. Time is important to me. I've learned that time is a love language I speak. I'm not saying I speak it well, I'm just saying I am aware that it's a big deal to me.

When time is a big deal to a person, especially for moms, it can be easy to become frustrated when it's wasted or passes too quickly. Or, if it gets "interrupted".

I wonder how often "our time" is interrupted, when in reality, it's God's way of redirecting us...redirecting our hearts, our passions, our agendas. We think that what we have going on is the most important task in the world, when truly, what needs to be accomplished is sitting on the hammock for 6 minutes with our kids while they tell us about their days or stopping to snuggle our sweet kid who has a fever and just wants his or her mommy.

Mom's are masters at multi-tasking...for the most part, at least. But I have seen over the last 8 years of being a mom, both to Em and while Noah was hospitalized, that even though I could multi-task didn't mean, at that moment in time, I was supposed to be doing more than one thing at once. Sometimes I needed to be solely focused on whatever the two of us were doing, even if that meant playing with play dough or reading books or snuggling at bedtime rather than cleaning a toilet or even having dinner ready before 8:00!

Kids obviously need to learn that the world does not revolve around them. If we stopped everything, all the time, everyday to "watch this", our homes would be disasters, our children would look like waifish little rug rats, and we'd never even have the chance to brush our teeth.

But, kids need time. They need eye contact. They need two ears on them once in a while. Because, before you know it, time will have won't be like this for long.

I sit here 5 weeks out from my due date. (Whatever the heck that means, right? As my doctor said, "He'll come when it's his birthday." I tell ya, that doc of mine sure is one smart fella!) 8 years have passed since Em was a teeny tiny baby. I remember walking in the daily moments with her as they came, but I can't remember details of being a mommy to a baby. It's surreal that, at some point, this kid will be in need of potty training. (Thankfully, this time around Jason will be called into play for instructions, since, of course, I don't have that kind of plumbing...) But while that is happening, I'll probably be buying Em a "training bra"...which brings me to "Country Western" and the referral to my age...

At least when I was younger (and everyone I asked from AZ), we referred to that unique music from the South as "Country Western". Maybe it was an Arizona thing since we were from the West but not really living in the country. We were city-folk, so to us, the music style was "Country Western". I've been informed by a couple 20-somethings that it's just "Country". Either way, it's never been the music of my choice. My friends Ashley and Angie in college exposed me to it on a road trip to Florida once. It wasn't bad. I couldn't tell you much about it now except that we listened to Garth Brooks back in that day. It was Angie's car...I didn't have much of a choice!

I don't have any Country Western albums or music on my Zune, but recently Gina, a certain 20-something former radio co-host made me what she titled "Adrienne's Tractor Tunes". If you ever heard our radio show, "The Well" you'll know I regularly mocked the song about the green tractor. I mean, really...singing about your tractor? Anyway, I popped this CD into my computer...

...and it reminded me of why I don't listen to Country Western music. (Gina, I love you, just not how sad Country Western music is...)

"It won't be like this for long" is about the stages of life of a sweet baby girl who grows up too freaking fast...

"I loved her first" is about a dad singing to his daughter and her guy about how, not long ago, he was all she needed and that there's a place in his heart that will always belong to him...

"Never wanted nothing more" is about a guy who has been drinking, down by the river in his car, wanting nothing more than that girl he's with...

Now, "Cleaning this gun" I can totally see! It's a dad singing to the guy who has intentions to take his daughter out for the evening. The dad says that's fine...I'll just be here at home cleaning my gun. I like this guy's style...

The way I look at it, most of the songs reminded me of why time is important...why I'm being so sappy about Em going off to a 3 day overnight camp...why, when she does her own hair and pulls her bangs off to the side she looks like a young lady...why I stare at her just a little longer after her eyes have closed and she's sleeping quietly on my night to tuck her into bed...why I am really looking forward to homeschooling her next year for a few more treasured moments with her in the day to day...why, whether I am supposed to or not, at 8+ months pregnant I still scoop her up into my arms at 55 lbs and hold her on my hip and tell her how much I love her!

I'm "Shameless", I know, but "I Loved Her First" and she's "My Little Girl"..."She's Everything" and I know "It Won't Be Like This For Long" so I'm going to "Love (her) Like Crazy"...because "My Next 30 Years" aren't even promised.

The other day she tried to tell me that she loved me more than I could possibly love her. I know she was just trying to express how very much she loves me, but that girl has no clue as to how much I love her. I love her to the moon and back, bigger than the universe, more than I'll truly ever be able to express...I want her to know she is loved...and the way she will know is through my time spent loving her.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Cliff diving

I wish I had the camera but it's in the Dominican Republic with Jason and Emily. Jason took her along on a trip to introduce her, along with some other interested people, to some of his Compassion sites that serve moms and their babies. I sure hope they are taking a lot of pictures because there are plenty of pictures I could be taking here to document life as it passes.

You see, I'm "power nesting". Basically that means I have a short amount of time, free of most responsibilities except caring for Em's puppy, to get the baby's room ready. The problem is, it's kind of a slow process. It's slow because it's emotional. It's slow because I can't move furniture by myself...and besides, first I want to paint all the furniture. Noah's crib and changing table somehow have to appear "different" this time around. It's slow because I am finally going through all of the boxes that we packed up 3 years ago from Noah's room. Slow because even though I washed all the clothes that I chose to keep 3 years ago before I bagged and boxed them, for whatever reason I feel like I should wash them again...and washing your dead kid's laundry for your unborn child's use is really just weird. I know it's just stuff, and I'm certainly not emotionally tied to any of it. It's just surreal and at the same time, I wonder why I am doing it! Will it even get used?! #$%^&* Lord, please let it be used...and by this child who is on his way...

I am going to use the bedding I made for Noah's nursery because, well, I made it. And, it just didn't get that much use! I literally, LITERALLY, don't need one article of clothing from 0 to at least 9 months. In fact, as I finish diving into these insane amounts of laundry today, I'll be purging some of it because, even though it's cute and cuddly, new and hardly or not worn, the more clothes my kid has, the more laundry I'll have to do. And, obviously there are people in this world that need it way more than we do. We have plenty. Don't tell Em, but I'm purging her room before she returns from the Dominican Republic tomorrow, too!

Several people have asked if they could host a shower for me. I have declined. I just can't. Remember when your elementary teacher used to correct you and say, "Not can, but may." Well, I literally just cannot go there. The last shower thrown for me by my very dear friends was a beautiful time and I felt full being surrounded by such great women, but I went home from it with a bunch of treasures for a boy who never got to use them. I just cannot and will not do that again.

I am going to do a "Meet and Greet" type of thing after he is born, but that's about all my heart can take.

I recently saw a picture of a friend who had jumped off a cliff and bruised her hamstring. I am sure approaching the cliff was both exhilarating and filled with fearful anticipation. The fall was likely breath-taking. The impact...well, it left a bruise the size of her whole backside. But she survived it...bruise and all. Not sure if she'd do it again, but she would never know that if she hadn't taken the plunge in the first place.

So, here I am, in the midst of cliff diving. I'm pretty sure being 6 weeks away from my due date qualifies me for having already jumped.

I guess this is what life feels like in mid-air. No going back, just pressing on to impact.

I'm not a fan of free-falling. I like the feeling of security and knowing how it will turn out. However, I gave up those rights long ago when I chose to follow God's will for my life...not my own. Jesus didn't teach us to pray, "My kingdom come, my will be done." He specifically instructed us, "Your kingdom come, Your will be done."

Why, then, do we act so surprised, offended, or taken off guard when life doesn't roll like we planned it?

I may bruise my whole backside, but I'll swim to the shore and make it through this. We all will, regardless the size of the cliff from which we just jumped.