Poop

Fletcher had a blow out in his diaper this evening as we were standing in line at Trader Joe's. I was unfortunately holding him on my hip and therefore in the... er... splash zone.

Let's just say I've never felt more attractive in public than I did this evening when I purchased vegetable broth and white wine using ONLY the left side of my body to handle the transaction because the right side was smothered in poop that was oozing out of a happy little diaper.

One of those mommy rights of passage, yes? Until today I'd never been pooped on in public.

I'll spare you the picture (yes, I took a picture to show Greg on his break).
Instead, you can feast your eyes on these two handsomes:

Goodnight all, I'm going to bed!

Pinch pinch

I just had to post a photo of Fletcher in his little crab outfit that his Grammy sent him:

I die!

Gratitude trumps worry tonight

The below post was written by my husband, Greg.
I love him very much and am so thankful to have such a wise and loving man leading our family.

Our mailman came at the late hour of 6pm tonight and dropped off 2 letters.

One was a simple one-page letter that held the test results from our son Fletcher's recent blood work.

At his first year check-up, his doctor ordered a few blood tests and a urinalysis with a very strange request - Fletcher was REQUIRED to give his urine sample when they were taking the blood from him.  The nurse and the doctor were both adamant that if he did not pee at the precise moment the blood was being drawn, we would all have to return for another baby blood-letting and parental tear-letting.  As a 32 year old man, I know I could not do what was being asked of my 1 year old son.  I'm pretty squeamish and have to use all of my mental capacity to focus on not passing out when I have to give blood.  I can't imagine the mess that would result from me giving blood and trying to pee at the same time.

But our warrior son did it.  Like a champ, he produced enough urine that they could do the test and we could shuffle him away from the mean needles.

We opened the letter and read Blood Count: Normal.  Lead Level: Normal.  Urinalysis: Normal.  Followed by a simple sentence:  All Labs are Normal.

Relief.  Peace.  Pride.  Joy.

The other letter was from an insurance company regarding Fletcher's recent visit to the High Risk Infant Clinic.

Since my son was born 2 months early, he has to visit this clinic from time to time to make sure he's developing properly.  This is the clinic that helped us get set up with the physical therapist that meets with Fletcher once a week and with this recent visit they helped us figure out ways to increase his diet so he gets closer to his appropriate weight.  As new parents, and as the parent of a kid who sees several specialists and therapists, we get all kinds of confusing letters from health insurance companies and offices.  Letters with big scary numbers that make your heart stop and abbreviated codes that confound your sleep deprived brain.  Letters that look like bills but that say in bold at the top THIS IS NOT A BILL.  So what am I looking at here?  The only way understanding this letter could be any harder is if they asked me to provide a blood and urine sample while I tried to make sense of it.

It would seem this High Risk Clinic visit may not have been covered under my newer insurance.  The jury is still out.  But after staring at this letter for a good 10 minutes, my brain could only see the numbers that followed that dollar sign.  Money that we have but need.  Money that might slip away all because our son needed to learn how to bulk up.  Money that we saved for something "Important."

Fear.  Doubt.  Anger.  Greed.

And that's where I sat for the next half-hour.  In an ugly stew of question marks and dollar signs. 

Until I looked down and saw that first letter that I had tossed aside and forgotten.  It wasn't confusing.  It wasn't something it said it wasn't.  It said, clear as day, TEST RESULTS at the top and it told me everything in my son was Normal.

Everyday I wake up with two lists like these letters.  

One list says my son is healthy and happy.  It says my wife will stand with me no matter what.  It says I have a Creator who made me for a purpose and loves me.  It says I have a supportive family and a job and a car and a place to live and Mountain Dew in my fridge.  It is a long list and it says at the top "BLESSINGS."

And then there's this other list that claims my bank account isn't quite big enough.  It says I need more space and I'm losing my hair.  It says I have nothing of value to offer the world.  It says it's easier to be apathetic than to really care.  It reminds me to never take risks.  It says in an unclear font at the top "THESE ARE NOT WORRIES."

The funny thing is I hold on to both lists.  I'm constantly editing and refining each of them.  I wrote them.  They are always there and always will be.

But the amount of time I spent with these two letters tonight made me wonder:

When I have so much to celebrate, why waste time on anything else?

Finding my stride

I couldn't make it through Fletcher's new copy of The Giving Tree this evening. It was a generous birthday gift -- shiny and new -- and a story I remembered fondly even though I hadn't picked up in a long time, so you can imagine my surprise when the lump in my throat grew with the turn of each page.

I abandoned the story halfway through and was rescued by a nearby copy of Mr. Brown Can Moo Can You. (God bless you, Dr. Seuss!)

Motherhood has given me a new lens through which I see... well, everything! It isn't a bad thing, but there are times when I'm caught off guard by the lack of the carefree haze that coated my rose colored glasses. It's as if all my senses are heightened by the new wonderfulness that my son brings, and at times the sharpness of such beautiful clarity can be painful.

It has been a full year since Greg and I welcomed our little bean into our lives. An amazing, life changing, challenging, fantastic year.

I'm finding my stride as a mother. Learning, through often humbling lessons, what it looks like to be the sort of wife and mother I hope to be to my boys. I'm learning how to hate my own selfishness, how to graciously embrace sacrifice, how to live generously, and how to acknowledge our abundance.

Happy 1st birthday to my little darling, my honey bear, my sweetheart, my bean, my snuggle bug, my Fletcher. I love you so much, and I am so very honored to be your mommy.

I've spent a year attempting to walk in the shoes worn by thousands of other women before me, and though I'm stubbed and blistered, I'm looking forward to my next lap.  It feels good to look over my shoulder and see the distance our little family has covered in a year. I'm encouraged, and feeling more and more comfortable in this new life.