Friday evening the family was all sitting around the dining room table eating sorbet after a family walk around the harbor. David, pretty much out of nowhere (which is not so unusual) asks, “So how does the egg get from the man’s mouth into the woman’s tummy to make a baby?”
Jim asked, “Where did you learn about eggs?”
David, Motherhood I am officially the mother of an 8 year old. Ana’s birthday was yesterday, and while not the grand affair she had hoped for, I think she had a good day all in all. When I married, I got a “bonus” with my stepson, Michael, but Ana ushered me into full time motherhood. She was due on Mother’s day in 2001, but fortunately for me, came a few days early, so I had her in time for my first Mother’s day. I can still remember staring at her and crying because I just knew she was the most beautiful baby in the world.
The only time in my life I’ve ever truly wanted to commit murder was because of Ana. I took her in for her 2 week appointment at the pediatrician and they, of course, wanted to draw some blood. A routine heel stick, right? No big deal. Except that Ana wasn’t bleeding, and the nurse kept stabbing her with the lancet, Ana was screaming and I seriously wanted to kill the nurse who was hurting my baby. Since then, I’ve learned to temper my mothering instincts.
Ana has grown into a beautiful young lady. As I told someone at church, I sometimes have to remind myself that she’s only 8. You can have an almost adult conversation with Ana. She likes to read (and still likes to be read to) and thus, has a pretty good vocabulary for an 8 year old. She’s a dependable girl and I know I can count on her to lend me a hand. Lately, she’s been creeping into the kitchen to help me make dinner, unasked, of course.
What I love most about Ana, though, is her great big heart. She really cares for people, animals, whoever needs love. And she’s willing to pour out that love, pretty much unconditionally. Even her little brother, with whom she can become quite exasperated, she manages to love quite thoroughly. He threatened to run away after a heated argument with Ana one day. She came to me in tears, “Mama, I don’t want David to run away.” I hope she always holds on to that God given ability to love the unlovely. The world needs more people like her right now.
Blessings!
Ana, Motherhood, Reflection This morning, I forgot to let the water heat up in the sink before washing my face. The temperature outside was a balmy 17 degrees, so you can imagine the shock of that cold water. Ouch! I find myself doing such dumb things quite a lot lately.
Eight years ago (8 years!) when I was pregant with my daughter Ana, one of the psychiatrists and my co-worker at the Forbush School said to me, “you are now entering one of the busiest times of your life.” I remember thinking, “busy, how could this be busy? I’m going to stay home with my baby.” There is an expression out there about eating words. I wonder if it applies to thoughts as well.
Ana, Kids, Motherhood I think, maybe! Lately, David has been in the habit of telling me when he has soiled his diaper. “Mommy, poopy!” he’ll say and then point to his behind. I’ll walk over and do the sniff test to confirm and David will happily consent to having his diaper changed.
Yesterday morning, I was in the bathroom doing the 5 minute mommy make-up thing before we were to start our day. David was standing on the toilet playing with his toothbrush, still in his pj’s, which on this occasion was the very long white “starter” shirt he had been baptized in a few weeks ago (I didn’t know what else to do with the shirts?!). Again he says, “Mommy, poopy!”
David, Motherhood 