You know, when we were going through all those years of infertility, a lot of people would say a lot of things to try and comfort me. Probably the one I heard the most was, “If you adopt, you’ll finally relax about having kids—then you’ll get pregnant!” I’m sure many people felt their comments were proven when we DID start having kids after adopting. (For the record, that is about one of the most painful things that a person who can’t have kids can hear—that it is somehow their fault because they are being too uptight about it. Adopting isn’t a cure for infertility. We’re talking about a child—not a fertility idol.)
I never could understand those comments. And now that I HAVE children? I’m completely flummoxed by them.
Before I had kids, we would go out on a regular basis. We had season’s tickets to the local theater’s Broadway series for several years running. And Saturdays? I was never out of bed before nine or ten.
I tried to sleep in. Once I did get up, I had eaten breakfast, taken a shower, cleaned up some, checked my email and read some blogs before I happened it glance at a clock. It was 9:30.
I haven’t stopped moving since.
One of the kids in Sean’s Primary class at church got baptized today. Sean was asked to give a talk on the Holy Ghost. OK, in my family, we have a baptism tradition. It started when I was baptized (24 years ago—gah!). The primary presidency gave every child a little white box when they were baptized. I still have mine, and my mother has made one for each of her grandchildren as they have been baptized. I offered to make one for Sean to use with his talk.
I also put in a small scroll of paper explaining the symbolism of everything in the box:
I would like you to have this little box to help you understand how important the gift of the Holy Ghost is in your life.
The white box signifies how pure and clean you are now hat you have just been baptized.
The little mouth in the box is to help you remember that the Holy Ghost will speak to you in a still, small voice.
The ear is to remind you that you can always choose the right if you will always listen to the Holy Ghost.
The Holy Ghost is like a warm blanket. When you have chosen right, and have to stand alone, the Holy Ghost will strengthen and comfort you.
These books will help you to remember that the Holy Ghost is a teacher. As you study the scriptures and listen to your teachers, the Holy Ghost will help you to understand and know the truth.
The Holy Ghost is like a compass that shows the way for you and helps you to walk along safe and righteous paths.
May Heavenly Father bless you throughout your life.
While working on that, I was also making brownies for my mother to take to a Historical Society fundraiser this evening (she was up at my sister’s house for a party and so my dad could help build a swing set).
In all fairness, she did treat us all to dinner at said fundraiser this evening.
Walking into that dinner was quite the experience. For starters, my mom was definitely one of the younger members of the group. And there is just nothing quite like walking into a room and being greeted by the sight of a 70-something woman standing behind basic DJ equipment, wearing a black shirt with heavy gold bling and singing Bad, Bad Leroy Brown. I could see the fear in Sean’s eyes.
It was almost (but not quite) as shocking as his grandfather’s wedding reception when we were nineteen. That experience included a little old lady doing a fantastic (and wholly unintentional) impersonation of a geriatric Mimi from The Drew Carey Show and dancing the Macarena.
I will probably never get that image out of my mind—that’s the kind of stuff that just permanently alters your brain chemistry.
The dinner, however, was nice. And by the time we left, the little-old-DJ had moved on to a more predictable selection of “Mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy…” We even won one of the raffle prizes. Of course, it was a cake. Just what I wanted on a day that I had already baked a pan of brownies and a huge birthday cake.
Which brings me to…
Tomorrow is Caleb’s birthday. It is also Sean’s father’s birthday (I should get some major extra daughter-in-law brownie points for that one—how many women give their father-in-law a GRANDCHILD for his birthday?). Sean’s grandfather decided that he should have a family get together tomorrow to celebrate. It technically starts at the exact moment that we get out of church. So…
I have spent the entire evening wrapping presents:
making two bowls of fruit salad:
and decorating a birthday cake:
Oh, OK, fine—I didn’t actually write the words on the cake. I can barely write legibly on a piece of paper. Frosting is way out of my realm. My mom did the lettering for me. But Brobee? I take full
credit, responsibility…I did that. No, I haven’t had a sudden change of heart. I still think that Yo Gabba Gabba is the kiddie television equivalent of an acid trip (no, I’ve never experienced one personally but, come on, I wasn’t THAT sheltered—I knew people). That doesn’t change the fact that my son sleeps with his stuffed Brobee every single night. And I’m a mom.
Which brings me back to my original point. From before 9:00 this morning until almost 11:00 this evening, I have not stopped moving. I’ve been doing things all day long. Heck, I’ve technically been multitasking the whole time, if you consider the fact that I did it all while continuing to MAKE A PERSON.
And I can’t help but wonder…At what point is being a mother supposed to start helping me relax???