Mary

It's Good Friday. We didn't go to church last night, and that always makes me feel off for starting Easter weekend. However, for the second year in a row, we have sick boys on Easter, so we are stuck at home.

To be precise, I'm currently stuck in bed with Christopher, waiting for his fever to start coming down from 103.8. He's miserable, poor thing. Mallory isn't too thrilled with it either since she sits next to him at dinner, and tonight he threw up all over the table. Nothing like vomit as a side dish.

Anyway, Easter. It's the one holiday that Kevin and I have really different memories of from our childhood. He remembers big family get togethers and presents for all the kids. I remember church and a very modest Easter basket, but mainly church.

We are compromising now. The Easter baskets for the kids have a small present in them and some candy, but that's it. And we would certainly go to church if our children could remain well on the date. I'm doubting that is going to happen this year, and I'm really really sad about it.

I think a lot about Mary around Easter now. I guess it has to do with being a mama. I don't think I could have stood by and watched my son take the path that hers did. Before I had my own boys, I didn't really ever consider Mary, and now? I can't seem to stop.

So tonight, I give you one of my favorite Patty Griffin songs. Forgive the misspelling of her name on the video. I put an "i" where there should have been a "y," and seeing as how I've battled that with my own name forever, I'm greatly annoyed. Not annoyed enough to go back and fix it, mind you, but annoyed.

Hope your Easter is filled with renewal, hope, and fulfilled promises of life to come.

A better fit

One morning last week, as Christopher was walking into preschool, he dropped some of his Easter eggs. I had his backpack in one hand and Colin on my hip, and was slow in helping him. Another mother stooped down to pick up an egg for him. She was chatting 90 miles an hour with a mother who looked exactly like her and didn't even look at Christopher. She just held out the egg and kept talking.

She noticed the egg, but didn't notice the little boy.

It's a good school. It's where we go to church. It would be alright if he stayed there.

But he isn't going to stay.

In the two years he has been there, we have had exactly one playdate with another child at the preschool. That means that not only has he not been invited anywhere, but also that I have not invited anyone anywhere either.

They just aren't our people, and neither are we theirs. It's not a matter of liking or disliking. It's just a matter of fitting.

I know that feeling. I spent my entire high school career not really fitting in, but not really being that upset by it.  In Jackson though, my parents believed that there weren't a lot of choices, and I did get an excellent education.

However, this isn't Jackson, and I don't have to defer to what seems like the path I should take just because of history. This is Raleigh. This is my turn to be the parent. This is my responsibility to find somewhere that my children can thrive in all aspects of life.

So I've pulled him from his preschool and enrolled him in an arts immersion preschool. I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. At the same time, I'm so nervous I can hardly think about the switch.

The "supposed to's" are so ingrained. I rail against them, and I fall into them for security. I use them as a crutch, getting by for awhile and not realizing that they don't really fit until they start to blister.

"Now, Marty, tell me how you ended up at White? Because you just don't seem like a White kind of person."

This is what the mom at the one playdate said to me. It wasn't an insult, so please don't read it like that. It was just a curious question of how we ended up at that preschool. It's easy to stand out when everyone else looks pretty much the same (and DAMN if I know how all of those mama's of preschoolers are all a stinking size zero).

That was the moment I knew.

It was when I knew I wanted to make a change. I wanted to keep stretching my comfort zone to be the kind of parent that my boys need me to be. It was the same kind of light bulb moment when I decided to leave my OB's office and move to the Birth Center.

Scary, but oh so right.

If you grew up in the deep south, you probably get this. It's hard to be someone you aren't, but it's even harder to figure out how to be who you really are if you don't fit the common mold.

I'm breaking that cycle now. Starting this fall, I'm giving Christopher the kind of education that will allow him all of his drama, his eccentricities, and foster his love of music and art. It's the least I can do for him - allow him to figure out who he wants to be.

Random much?

Oh, hello. Yes, this is still a blog. No, I haven't forgotten about it. Thanks for asking.

Baby Colin started walking. He also dropped his morning nap. I also gave up Diet Coke (which I'm not even lying is harder than stopping smoking and also harder than not drinking). Point being, I frequently go to sleep before 9:00 now.

I'm freaking exhausted.

It is apparent that I need to quit calling Colin, "Baby Colin," as though Colin is his middle name and Baby his given. He is walking, communicating, eating anything and everything now. He is a full blown toddler.

Which is why this past Tuesday morning, when he did need a bit of a morning nap, instead of putting him down for a nap, I sat on the couch with him. He nursed himself to sleep in my arms, and I held him for the hour, watching him sleep, looking for the little baby he was just a little while ago.

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And that - that part up there? Was written a week ago. Clearly blogging is not a priority for me right now. It's funny, because not only have I not been writing, but I haven't been reading either. This morning, I opened up my Google Reader to catch up with everyone, thinking that I would have a million posts to read. Turns out though, most of my bloggy besties have been quiet themselves lately too.

Good for us. Living life in the real world.

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The reality of the decision that Kevin and I made to have two children is hitting me hard. I was alright with it. Then I wasn't. Then I was. And wasn't again.

Now, today, I am alright with it. I like our family of five. I like how Colin fits in as the youngest. I like how Christopher gets to be both a little brother and a big brother. I like that soon, we'll be able to take the boys to Mallory's events. I like that soon, they will be old enough to leave for a bit, and I can have some one on one time with Kevin.

Last night though, I took dinner to a new mama in the neighborhood, and I saw the most beautiful, most delicious baby boy ever. I left wondering if he really was THAT perfectly perfect and gorgeous, or if it was just the baby bug getting me. I'm pretty sure he was really just that beautiful. I ached a little, thinking about the "never again."

I just have to keep reminding myself that it's nine months of pregnancy, a few hours of labor and delivery, and then it's a lifetime.

I think that I have enough children to keep my lifetime occupied. It's just hard thinking about being done.

That makes no sense. I'm well aware. I'm afraid you'll have to look for logic elsewhere today.

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Happy 5th blogoversary to Bon at Crib Chronicles. Hers was one of the first blogs I started reading when I got started five years ago. Her writing is beautiful. Stunning really. You should go by for a visit.