Sunday, July 20, 2008

A Reality Check for the Expectant Mother

"Wait til reality hits her."

Reality gets a bad rap.

Dirty diapers and sleepless nights and tantrums, but do you know that West gives me unsolicited kisses?

Here's a dose of reality for the expectant mother from my own experience:
* A purposeful waddle-thump walk
* Weston dancing like a mini Michael Flatley
* Peek-a-boo from under a hamper
* The way he raises his eyebrowns and giraffes his neck from the back seat as if to say, "Um, I think you were supposed to take a left there." or "I don't think that was a complete stop, mommy."
* Rides in the laundry hamper (The main benefit of having hardwood floors with a . . . rugged appearance)
* West at a petting zoo, exuberantly yelling, haphazardly waddle-running, waving his arms in the air
* West on a pile of books, parousing a book about Abe Lincoln upside down (As a friend aptly commented, "You're never too young to learn about the Civil War.")
* Weston dumping the toys, turning the tub over and crawling atop with the victorious spirit of a gold-medal olympian
* Weston eating anything with parmesan cheese or peanut butter -- Running his fingers through his hair, sticking his fingers in his ears, rubbing his nose, touching everything in his reach
* The way he folds his big toe over its neighbor when he's watching Baby Einstein or snacking contentedly in his high chair
* Weston's whole body bumping and jumping to rave music
* Squirming & giggling when tickled or kissed behind the ears
* Weston with a hose, watering himself thoroughly
* Weston's going to bed routine (while mommy & daddy peek through the slit between the door and the jam). "This blanket needs to be crunched up under my tummy. Lion should go right here. . . umm . . . no, there . . . definately, there. I need to hear one more song from my electronic aquarium. Where was that blanket? Ah, yes, it should go . . ." thud - snoring.
* Pat-a-cake with tickling variations that provoke cackle-laughing
* Fake coughing & fake laughing
* Whatever his prior mood, Weston filled with electricity at the sight of Sam's Jeep -- West runs to the door, knocking wildly, ants in his pants, wiggling his fingers through the door's mail slot.

Labor and exhaustion-sobbing and "I've tried everything! What else could you possibly want, baby?" is real, too, but I think you've heard enough about that (especially if you're pregnant - there's no good way backward now!)

I wanted West for such a long time and the waiting was the category of "reality" we usually mean, the despairing and dry place. And I'm told there is some certain trouble ahead, but honestly, I often look at my son, remember my yearning for him and think, "Thank God I didn't know how good reality is."

3 comments:

Michael and Abby said...

I'm sorry but can you read my mind? =)

I have had to put down several books that I've started lately because of their foreboding warnings for the REALITIES that lie ahead. What about making the most of every opportunity and counting our blessings and living in the moment? Seems so clique but I have learned it well from my better half who enjoys each moment in life to the fullest. When it rains, he comments on the free carwash we are receiving, when it gets tough, he pulls out our most recent blessing and talks about that instead.

I am not going to have a 5 year old right out of the womb..and I'm not giving birth tomorrow. I am 22 weeks TODAY and that's where I need to live. Life is full of uncertainties and I know it won't always be cherries, but the reality is: God is good and His blessings are the reality.

I really like how you are embracing your mommyhood, Paula. You really minister to me.

Paula said...

So many good things are coming that will further confirm your suspicions about God's goodness.

Glad you're enjoying 22 weeks. Tell me when you feel her move! That's fantastic stuff! :)

Anonymous said...

I love this, I think lots of people should hear. You have me smiling ear to ear the whole time and the ending gives me a good feeling and better way to live. Love you sis,

Richie