This is Nothing Like Babysitting

I did lots and lots of babysitting as a teenager. Thought I could rely on those years of training with all the kids I had taken care of along the way. HA!! That gap of some fifteen years in addition to skills now gone rusty made bringing our little bundle home a whole new ballgame. Kind of like being a grandparent. Love the grandkids. Spoil the grandkids. Send them home. Watch the neighbor's son and daughter for a few hours. Play. Read. Color a few pictures. Go home. No muss. No fuss.

First of all let me state that if EVER I hear someone in the future say that a new mother will know what an infant needs by the sound of their cry I will call them CRAZY to their face. I had no idea if our son was hungry or wet or mad or sad or any of that. I just went down that checklist in the last sentance and tried to figure it out. Then I kept him all wrapped up like a papoose because that's what they did in the hospital....until my mother calmly asked me if I walked around the house tightly wrapped up in a blanket. And I scrubbed everything 2 or 3 or 4 times to make sure whatever came in contract with the baby was germ-free. To which a good friend calmly said, and I quote: "Babies survive in Ethiopia, you know." So I only scrubbed two times after that.

I wasn't very good at sharing either. Especially at first. I was extremely possessive. Didn't let family members or friends hold him for 'too' long a time. Made me nervous. I eventually learned to 'exhale' and got comfortable with the fact that those who wanted to have him in their arms for a while would be extra-special careful. Babies do that to people. They bring out the best in us.

We read and we rocked. Bathed him and sang to him. Gasped the first time he did the little boy arch of water during a diaper change....and laughed whenever it happened again because we were prepared with a quick washcloth. We took pictures. We would stare and study him, memorizing each tiny feature. Every little expression. Listened to all the sounds he made. Rained kisses on his soft cheeks and downy head. Those were the moments I knew it didn't matter if I remembered all the details from my Red Cross Babysitting Class lessons. What we did know was that a far greater hand was leading us and teaching us. What we didn't know was that He was also slowly preparing us for the adventures yet to be.....

In Control

About 4am the contractions started. I was making sure my bag was packed, the house was neat, the baby's room ready. I was wide awake. My husband calmly went back to bed. From my perspective I thought he should be as wound-up as I was. Looking from his perspective it was very early and there was still time left to catch a little more sleep. Who could argue?? Everything was going as planned so let him sleep!

Called the doctor appropriately when the labor pains were getting closer. Waited for their call back. Waited. Waited. And waited some more. Finally my husband called the office ~ "OH! We thought you said a different last name and we have soooo many of those in our system that we couldn't possibly have called them all. Thank you for calling back." Now I am listening to this conversation thinking this is going well so far. Helloooo. She asked him which one of the two hospitals, where the OB/GYN group delivered, we would like to go to. And my logical husband replied we would go wherever the doctor was (do we hear a 'dah'??) that morning as he repeated that my labor pains were now less than ten minutes apart.

After getting that all straightened out he put me in the car and off we went. This begins my favorite part of the story. The shortest route was down a extremely well traveled street in our community that desperately needed repair. Think corregated cardboard. Bump-bump....Bump-bump....Bump-bump. Hear my poor driver apologizing after every Bump-bump. And me telling him, keeping in the same rhythm as in my breathing techniques, that everything was okay. It wasn't his fault. That he was doing a fine job. I was calm and cool and supportive on the outside (while secretly hoping after every rise in that asphalt the baby didn't decide to pop out on the inside!!!).

He dropped me off at the hospital's lobby so he could get the car parked in the adjacent garage. What you have to picture and understand here is that the hospital's lobby and attached corridors were under construction. We're talking caution tape and bare drywall. The only other person in this entire place is a woman seated at a little desk who must have been there to give directions, whatever. I have no idea what her use was. All I can tell you is that she paid absolutely no attention to this very pregnant, obviously near birth mother-to-be. I should have been screaming to get her attention or something. But noooooo. Not me. I was in control. I didn't need her...or a wheelchair....or an attendant to push me to Labor and Delivery...or anybody or anything. Finally my spouse rushed through the door and led me toward the elevator. For this 'visual' think of the old Batman TV show where he and Robin would "walk" up the side of buildings by pulling themselves up a rope (remember that??). Now picture me pulling myself down the hallway hand-over-hand on the handrail. Seriously. The thought went through my mind that this was it. The headlines in the next morning edition of the newspaper would read: "Baby Shoots Out Like a Stick of Butter in Hospital Hallway". But I was in control.

Long story short. I was put in a delivery room, took out my sour cherry sucker, took two licks and made to the bathroom sink before I threw up (already in Transition and the stomach wasn't interested in refreshments). The nurse left me alone for 45 minutes. Sauntered in (finally) to fill out a form. The husband was giving wrong answers so I interrupted in-between my hee-hee's and ho-ho's (heck I was so lost I just decided to make whatever noise made sense to me and kept my mind off the contractions!) to give the correct answers. Never raised my voice. Never shouted any insults. I was going to be a sweet loving lady through the entire ordeal until.....she told me to turn on my side which I did. Then she asked me if I felt like pushing. PUSHING?? That was it. This was my first baby. I had no idea if I felt like pushing or not. But I certainly felt like punching 'Nurse Rachet" then, that's for sure!! So she decided to meander over to do a little checking. And what do you know?? "The baby's crowning!!" Her eyes got real big and she turned on her heel to rush over to push the double doors wide open. "I NEED HELP IN HERE!!!" she yelled down the hall. Instantly there was a doctor, an intern, a nurse in the room. The lights were turned down. The team got down to business and after four pushes and a little over six hours after the labor started I presented a darling baby boy to a very proud father.

My first thought after I got to hold him? I wondered what his voice would sound like. Second? I realized I felt perfectly normal as if I had never been pregnant. Third? I couldn't wait to have grandchildren. Fourth? I was starved and steak sure sounded good. Fifth? Control was a very good thing.

So If You Had A Girl, What Would You Name Her?

Yep. That's how my husband broached the subject of having a baby. We were driving down to Myrtle Beach and we had just gone throught the kink on I-77 in North Carolina continuing south. We had been married ten years and had decided early on we would not have children. We would spoil our nieces and nephews and be a career-oriented couple. You can picture the look on my face, I'm sure. Sort of the mixture of "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" and "Are you crazy??!?" Well, I went along with the program and in about fifteen minutes we had a name. Morgan (because we both liked it) Margaret (after his very special paternal grandmother). The surprising part was with our last name starting with an S not every first name flows well with it and we made short work of finding . I, of course, was thrilled with her would-be monogram knowing it would look classic. Clean. Plus I knew what my nickname for her would be: M&M's. Perfect for a chocoholic's daughter, don't you think!! The boy's name, on the other hand, took us 14 months to choose. (The cool part of that was that he has grown up to like his name. He has shun every nickname I have ever tried to hang on him.)

I loved being pregnant. Really and truly I did. I had never felt healthier. I ate well. Never, not for one second, felt nauseous. I was just tickled to be carrying this new life inside of me.

Had some bumps along the way with the standard tests given at certain weeks. Even got a call from my OB/GYN on a Friday night to give me the results. After I shook off the shock that hit me I had enough wits about me to ask him one question: If I was his wife what would he tell me to do. He gave his answer after asking me one question to answer first. My husband and I accepted his advice deciding not to have further testing done. With God's hand that recommendation was sound and we did not regret our response to the doctor's essential inquiry.

I was put to 'sofa' rest (after a promise made and some gentle persuation ~ the bed rest was driving me crazy!) with 7 weeks to go. How long I had been have labor pains I will never know. I just chalked up the little pains and twinges to indigestion or just regularly expected pregnancy 'stuff'. Oops!! Guess this naive mother-to-be thought she was just doing fine and dandy and had no need to bother anyone. My husband was traveling 4 days a week so the dog kept me company, my grandmother called every afternoon to check on me, the postman was especially attentive helping me any way he could (wasn't that nice??), friends brought meals. Life was good as long as I did what I was supposed to do.

The day we became parents started early for me. I woke up at 3:15am and I remember thinking I should change my sleeping position from my back to my side. As soon as I did I had this instantaneous flash that I had to get to the bathroom. FAST. Don't think about it. Just move. I listened to my instinct and I was just sitting down when my water broke. The first thought that shattered my brain? I was going to be a mother. Today. TODAY!! Life would never be the same. Ever. And I have been so thankful for every single day.

We Made It!! Woo-Hoo!!!!

My son will be twenty-one VERY soon. With a full heart, a happy smile and a loud "Alleluia" we made it. We have reached the milestone. Believe me there were days.... months..... and the entire year of the age of three.....that I had my doubts. I am NOT kidding you. My dentist at the time even told me that stress was a major cause of the two new cavities he found. (That alone put me over the top. I also found a new dentist. Immediately.)

The next seven days I am dedicating to my child and will share some highlights of his 'beginning' and his life journey up to this point. I'm sitting here now smiling as I remember my personal favorites. All I can say is God in His infinite wisdom knew that one child (yes, I was hoping for twins) was what we could handle so with a touch of humor He bundled a whole lot into this darling cute little package we were given. The up-side is that we haven't been commited yet to a sanitarium on a permanent basis. The down-side? I guess there's still time....

I said. They said. What's with that???

This is a phenomenon that I believe started with Adam and Eve and has flowed down through the Romans and Greeks and Incas and Persians and Egyptians and Vikings and Highlanders and Shoguns and Pilgrims and ... you get my drift by now I think. It hasn't changed yet as I can bear witness and I am pretty sure that it will continue to be passed on for many, many generations to come.

In a nutshell: Why is it that a wife can tell her husband something and he tells her she is wrong or crazy or gives her no credit at all. Yet if a neighbor or colleague or golf partner tells him the EXACT SAME THING a day or a week or whatever later that person has just shared a pearl of wisdom that he must rush right home and share with you. What?? Your face does not seem to display the reaction he was expecting. "Isn't that interesting, Honey? I can't believe you haven't heard about this." he'll say to you. "Aren't you impressed? I thought you would be?!"

Now we just went through this (again) last week. I suggested something to him and he pretty much ignored me. Then two days later a third party suggested the EXACT SAME THING. He relayed to me their conversation in its entirety. I sat there with absolutely no hint of what was going through my mind. I let him lay out the whole discourse they had and when he was all finished I very quietly asked, "Did you happen to tell with this person that I put this very idea out on the table earlier this week?" No, I did not add allow myself to cover my words with a nasty overtone...even though I surely deserved the right to do just that!?#@??!! And, no, I did not look at him like he had two heads. And do you know what that man said to me with a straight face?? Only four words. "Well, no, I didn't."

That was all. He didn't apologize. Didn't acknowledge my perceptiveness nor my intuitive insight. Nothing. Very disappointing. But you know what I personally feel so good about?? I never lost my cool. Never once raised my voice to yell "you lout!!" or "how insensitive can you be?" or "where is my credit?". (Just between us I must confess that on the in inside I was a screaming mess as I clearly deserved to be.) I simply added it onto that invisible unpenned list that exists in the unseen cosmos that all women have, and forever will, made contributions to for all eternity. Alas, we must face this never ending challenge and accept that it is just one of the crosses we have to bear, Girls. (heavy sigh, hand draped over forehead)

Shopping Strategy Secret (Shhh...Pass It On)

When I was growing up and my mother, sister and I would go shopping we always hit the sale racks first. Remember: this was WAY before the days of the "wait five minutes and it will got on sale" trend and mentality. During that time the major department stores only had 3 or 4 main sales a year. So when we would went to a store we would make our selections, try the pieces on in that store's dressing rooms (none of this buy it now/return it later stuff either). Then we would proudly take our prizes home where we would show my dad everything we bought. Mother would emphasize that each item had been marked down once, twice, maybe even three times. He would ALWAYS (yes, you can make money on this bet) respond by saying "These sales are going to kill me!" while rolling his eyes.

Contrast that scenario with the following: We shopped mostly at two stores with Sears being one of them. Dad would usually go with us for the annual fall shopping spree to get new shoes and school clothes. PAY ATTENTION! This is a very important life lesson I learned early on and have utilized this secret countless times throughout my days at home and my married life. For example: Say during this family event I had picked out two tops, a skirt, a pair of pants and a dress. I would go into the dressing room, put on one of the tops and the skirt, go back out into the store where my dad was waiting and I would model them for him. He would tilt his head, tell me to turn around, ask me how they fit. Then I would repeat the process until he had seen each piece. He would do that for my sister as well. Then there would be a family conference as to what would be bought. And you know what? Nine times out of ten we were allowed to take home all of the things we tried on and liked. There was no talk of "this is going to kill me". Not one little peep. So we would smile, say thank you and skip all the way to the car.

I have found that works with my husband as well. If he is not with us on a shopping expedition whether it be for clothes, shoes, household goods, athletic equipment, food, whatever he will question selections, price, choices, reasons. But if he is with us he will offer to buy more than our immediate need or expectations.

Hmmmm. Sounds like there is a method to the madness after all. Conduct your own experiment. See how well this works for you. You think this is sly? I'm not sneaking anything into the house under his nose. Manipulative? I'm not bargaining or threatening bodily harm or throwing a tantrum. Nope, nothing like that. Just common sense I guess. The whole key is to involve the male when he is interested. Lay out the why's and pro's. And VOILA! POOF! Your wish is fulfilled!! What's not to love? (Psst ~ add a hug, kiss and a "thank you". Appreciation is always appreciated.)

True Confession

"Hi. My name is XXX and I don't smoke, hardly drink at all, don't cheat on my husband, never have done drugs. But I need to publicly confess my greatest weakness. You have to help me. What makes me do this? How do I justify this craziness? This obsession?

No, it is not chocolate. Don't blame you for guessing that. It would appear to be the obvious. I guess that is a testament to how well I have hid this addiction for so many years now. This total lack of self control. I can rationalize my action on several levels luckily. Let's see: cheaper than cigarettes or alcohol or drugs; time saver compared to taking the time to find, book and spend money to attend therapy sessions; it keeps people employed. (Bet that last one caught your attention. Read on, curious one, read on.)

Drum Roll Please! (A little drama is always appreciated when a deep, dark secret is about to be revealed. ) I spend an extra three to five minutes in the shower letting the cascading hot water pound a hand-less massage on my neck and back. I am especially fond of partaking in this activity at night. The house is quiet. I turn the bright lights down to a comforting glow. I am relaxed and refreshed and cleansed before I climb into the cool sheets and let the wings of slumber rock me to sleep. (And the 'keep people employed' line above? That's the plumber if I ever need one.)

Not spicy enough for you? Not front-page tabloid fodder? Well wait just a doggone minute here. Maybe this is small potatoes to your way of thinking but it definitely rocks my world. After working all day then grocery shopping before I arrive home to cook dinner followed by cleaning up the kitchen....then doing laundry and ironing....or studying....or having a wonderful conversation with my husband....or watering the grass seed that has been sewn on the perimeter of our lot due to the street construction....or weeding the garden and shooing away the furry little gray squirrel which is coveting my growing red bell peppers....or signing birthday and anniversary cards and writing letters to my friend and relatives who don't have computers I feel positively justified in spoiling myself in such a wonderfully decadent manner.

Now it's your turn. All eyes of the support group are focused on you. What do you mean you don't want to? I shared mine and, yes, I expect you to live up to your part of the bargain. Spill. Hurry up. You can do it. Yes, I'll still be your friend and, no, you can't get out of it. Just share yours by clicking on the word 'Comments' below. Liberation is just a moment away! I am so proud of you!!