First Day at the Gym (For Both of Us)

Yikes! Step aerobics were a lot easier seven years and fifty pounds ago!

Today was my first day at my new fancy gym.

And I forgot to wear deodorant! I was in a rush, what can I say.

I wanted to get there super early so I could fill out all the paperwork for the "kid's club," spend a few minutes with Nicknack (since it's his first visit there), ask my instructor if her class ("The Ultimate Workout") was appropriate for beginners, and get a primo spot at the back of the room.

In actuality, I arrived just in time (sans deodorant) to scribble something on some paperwork, blow Nicknack a kiss, and have a ten second discussion with my instructor. She assured me that, although it was an advanced class with lots of complicated footwork, I was welcome to do just the basic steps until I got the hang of it.

It was meant to be a 75 minute class (half cardio, half weights and stuff), but I planned to (and did) duck out after the cardio. I will build up to the entire class, eventually.

Wow. Did it ever kick my boonie! I pride myself on picking up on things quickly and being coordinated. I was a cheerleader for TWO whole years, for gosh sakes. But this was some serious steppin'. I literally never got through the entire routine once. Not even close. When I finally did start to get the footwork down, I was too tuckered out to go on! But I kept moving, even when I just had to march in place. Which was fine. I just hope I didn't throw off any of the other steppers. One woman, kittycorner to me, gave me several sympathetic glances. She was a little lost, too, at times. But I was the worst, by far.

But I'll be back. I'm pretty competitive.

After the cardio fun was over, I went to pick up Nicknack. I was a little worried, because I'd had to just rush off and leave him with strangers. He has gone through pretty much zero seperation anxiety. (He's eleven and one half months.) And he's been spending a couple of hours at the church nursery twice a week since he was three months old. If ever I am tempted to skip my weekly Bible study or Sunday service I just think of how much fun he has with those nursery ladies and I get myself there. He just loves every minute of it, and why wouldn't he? Those sweet gals are so good to him.

So I was pretty sure he'd be fine, and I hadn't been paged or anything, but there was a little trepidation in my heart as I left the studio. By the time I approached the kid's center's door (about sixty seconds later) I had come to the conclusion that I was a terrible! mother!

"I probably should have stayed with him for a while. What was I thinking? This is nothing like the church nursery! WAY bigger! Ten times the number of children. And not seperated by age, like he's used to. Why, one of those giant oafy looking three year olds is probably pushing my itsum bitsum off a slide right this minute. Walk faster. Hang on baby, mama's almost there! Or wait. He and little Meghan, from church, have been known to get into spats over pacifiers and rocking horses. But she's a feist, like he is, and holds her own. What if my little menace has cleaned someone's clock? I hate bullies! At the very least, there is no doubt that he has thrown a temper tantrum. Lord help anyone who takes anything away from or has to say no to our little man. I should have warned them about that."

Whew! I was there. The very first thing I heard, before I'd even opened the door all the way, was a peal of laughter. His laughter. I don't know how to describe it, but just imagine the laughter of your baby, or your child when he or she was a baby, and you'll know that little giggle was angels' music to my ears.

I imagine there must have been dozens of other noises and voices, but his was the only thing I heard. Aha! This must be how penguin mothers pick their little one out of the crowd. God is amazing.

I scanned the room for my little penguin, eager to take him in with my eyes until I could get my arms around him. I'd been gone almost an hour, after all.

The room is huge. There is a little gym/court area, a quiet area with cribs and swings, a movie area, a baby-gated play area (where I'd left him), and in between all this, a half dozen toy stations. About 20 two and three year olds were sitting on the floor, watching a Disney video. (It's kid center's busiest time of day so they, smartly, choose this hour for movie watching. I don't hold it against them. It was a gaggle of children.) The baby area was full of caregivers with babies on their laps or in exersaucers. But where, oh where was Nicknack? I could still hear him squealing with delight.

Finally, I found him. He was all by himself, playing with one of those pretend kitchens. (I don't think I've told you this, but Penn is a professional chef.) Just standing there, turning knobs, opening doors, and just generally cracking himself up. He looked so little and silly from across that big room.

I could just eat him up.

You should know that Nicknack has never been a very demonstrative baby. For the first nine months of his life he showed little interest in me and never acknowledged, in any way, that he knew who I was. This bothered me at times. My Bible study ladies assured me that this is healthy. He is independent. He is well adusted. He feels secure. I wouldn't want a clingy baby, would I? Would I? Noooo, of course I wouldn't. Wink wink.

But in the past month or two he's delighted me by demonstrating mild happiness to see me when I pick him up from nursery or return from an outing. When I play on the floor with him I am sometimes on the receiving end of a hug. Or at least his version of a hug, which is more like a gentle headbutt. On the rarest of occasions, these are accompanied by a sloppy (but cherished!) kiss/bite. And every once in a while, if he's really tired, he'll let me rock him, like when he was little. If he's actually in the process of falling asleep, he'll rest his tired little head on my shoulder or under my chin. If he's not quite ready to give up the ghost he'll lay in my arms, looking at me. He touches my teeth (?), plays with my hair, or pats my face a little too hard as I wonder what in the world I did to deserve him. (Answer: nothing.)

My point is, I live for this stuff, and it's not an everyday occurence.

Today he pulled out all the stops. I got a headbutt/hug. I got a monster's kiss. I got another kiss. I got another hug. He crawled up and onto my lap. We played kitchen together for a few minutes, then he lifted up his hands for me to pick him up, and I knew it was time to go home.

During the car ride I kept thinking of that joy fillled giggle of his and reliving our moment together. I couldn't wait to tell Penn all about it. But I had to because I forgot my cell phone.

One of the many wonderful things about being somebody's mother is sharing it with somebody's father. Because there is only one other person on the planet who knows exactly what Nicknack's different laughs sound like. And will imitate each one with me, when we're somewhere together, without him. And missing him. He's the only other person who cares to hear every detail of our daily adventures. And, most importantly, he's the only other person who really and truly realizes how super cute our child is. Other people have the gall and audacity to think their kid is the cutest. It's the weirdest thing.

I came home, put Nicknack down for a nap, and called Penn.

Despite the fact that I made a total nerd of myself in class today, it was a wonderful first trip to the gym.

Living in the Present

Since my post yesterday I've been thinking of how I long for the past. It's a new sensation. For the first 28 years of my life I was always looking forward.

When I met Penn and we started dating, I couldn't WAIT until we were exclusive and he was totally wrapped around my finger and head over heels in love with me. Check. Then I couldn't WAIT until he asked me to marry him. I think back about that period of time and I could just slap myself! I was so clueless.

Have you seen the movie "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?" When I saw that I couldn't stop laughing because it was so me! I tidied his apartment, "redecorated," and made him change his haircut and throw out a lot of (albeit horrid) shirts. And his pair of PLAID DENIM shorts. He truly needed me. But that's beside the point.

I did everything wrong, include basically rushing him into an engagement. Then I couldn't WAIT for the big day. I became totally obsessed with all the details of the wedding and honeymoon. Nevermind the relationship. You know, the marriage? How can one little person be so hugely flawed?

We had a two or three month break up, when we moved from Connecticut to Seattle. So that, of course, really helped me to gain perspective and do things differently when we got back together. Right? Right? ...notsomuch.

It was right back to the old "can't-wait" syndrome. I couldn't wait until we were engaged - again! Then the wedding, although what we planned was more low key. Although I STILL COULDN'T WAIT! Then we got married and right away, we were compromising about when to start family planning. Penn wanted to wait a few years. You'll never guess, but... I didn't want to wait. We met in the middle and because it took us some time to conceive Nicknack didn't arrive until we'd been married nearly four years. And praise be to God, the timing was perfect.

If I had a time machine, I'd go back and give myself this advice: Yes, you can wait! Stop obsessing about the future! To everything there is a season! Enjoy your life, wherever you are in it!

But I don't have a time machine, and if I had one, old me wouldn't have listened to new me anyway. It's kind of like how you can't tell a teenager anything. They tend to know everything, already. So save your breath! I wonder if teenagers where like that when Jesus walked the earth. But I digress.

So, as I shared before, I enjoyed my pregnancy. I mean, I loved it. For the first time in my life I wasn't looking forward or looking back. And, in hindsight, although I'd love to be pregnant again I feel so satisfied by my experience that it was enough. It was so good, and I was actually so present and conscious of how good it was, that it was enough.

Since Nicknack was 11 days old (that's the first time, of many, I looked at his one-day-old photo and cried about how much he'd changed), I've reversed my old bad habit of living in the future. I've started obsessing about the past. After my last post, I realized that this is just as wrong. The one time in my life I've really been totally content to live in a season without looking forward or later trying to relive it was our pregnancy. I look back fondly, but I don't feel the need to relive it and I don't feel the same bittersweet nostalgia as I do about Nicknack as a little baby. I just feel happy that I got to experience it.

I need to live that way now. Otherwise, someday I'll be looking at this period of my life and longing for it. I need to live this season fully, just totally enjoying all the big and little joys and not looking back so often. I can certainly look back and relish the past. But to long so for the past tricks me into missing some of the joy of right now. The enemy is so so crafty, isn't he? But this time, his victory was short-lived, and ultimately, he failed. The difference is that during those old days (years!) I was technically a Christian. But I wasn't looking up much. I still feel like a baby Christian, with mustard-seed faith, much of the time. But I really and truly believe and desire God. And he has been so faithful to work with me. He's really showing me what "to everything there is a season" means.

So even though I will continue to spend this, Nicknack's birthday month, looking back in my posts, I will not be constantly looking back in my day to day life. Instead, I'm going to concentrate on the adorable and amazing little person he is now and all the things I need to learn in this season of our lives together as DatDat, Mama, and Nicknack.

May Day

Happy May Day!

May is now my favorite month because it's our Nicknack's birthday month! And since he was born on the very last day in May, I get to celebrate him all month!

I'm naturally a sentimental person and this motherhood thing has really brought out that trait. Last night I went through all the photos we've taken since his birth. All of them. Oh, how I wish life came with a remote control! If I could, I would relive it all again and again and again. His birth. His tiny newborn newness. Nursing him. Rocking him.

Sigh. :)

I have a feeling I'm going to take a lot of trips down the old Memory Lane this month. Which is probably a good idea, since I have a terrible memory and need to record all the things I never want to forget. Also, since no one, to my knowledge, reads my blog yet, now would be a good time to get this all out of my system.

But today I'm just feeling such gratitude that the Lord would bless us by sending us this angel. One of these days I'll go into more details, but today I just want to focus on God's goodness. His sweetness. His mercy. His grace. His loving kindness. May I never ever forget Him who have us this baby and that our child belongs to Him.

"I asked the Lord to give me this child, and he has given me my request. Now I am giving him to the Lord, and he will belong to the Lord his whole life."
1 Samuel 1:27-28

Your nicknames, so far (in alphabetical order):

Angel Food Face

Baby - you thought this was your name until you were six months old and we started making a conscious effort to call you by your actual name!

Bink (since we saw your 7 week ultrasound) - we almost changed your name to Brinkley a week after you were born, because we kept thinking of and calling you Bink

Binkolas - your Daddy calls you this

Chipmunk (as in Alvin, Simon, et al) - because you look like one!

Guy-Guy or Little Guy-Guy

Little Christian - your DatDat (Daddy) has been calling you this since your Baptism

Little Man

Little-Big-Guy

Masher - because of the way you used to mash your mouth on everything during your early nursing days

Monkey - because you sound like one, sometimes!

Monster or Monner - because you act like one, but in the best way

Nicholas-Never-Naps - we've only called you this a few times, lucky for us

Nickers

Nicknack - your main nickname, at this point

Nickster

Nicky Lane - because your middle name is Lane, of course!

Pumpkin Muffin - I've always called cute things by this name, including every cat I've ever had

Sunshine - because you're ours

Happy Days

Today has been a great day. Actually, I'm having a great week. In fact, April has been good to me. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I feel like a good mom! It's been a journey to get to this point, so I'm celebrating the way I feel!

I have to say, I handled the newborn months pretty well. Was I a hormonal mess? Yes. Did I cry about something almost every day? Absolutely. I cried thinking about the day Nicknack would get married and love another girl more than me. I cried because the love I had for him was so overwhelming I couldn't stand it. I cried every time I looked at his "one day" photo from the hospital, starting when he was 11 days old. He'd already changed so much! (That photo is still my favorite possession among everything I own.) I cried just thinking about all the newborns in the world who aren't wanted or loved. I cried thinking about what it would be like to be a Mama in Darfur. Or a Mama in a concentration camp during WWII. Or a Mama who couldn't afford to buy her children Christmas presents. Can you imagine? It got a little ridiculous. I cried often.

But I really was happy! Despite the sleep deprivation and nursing problems.

Fast forward a few months. Between Nicholas's fifth and seventh months I was became a little depressed. I felt so isolated and inadequate. I felt like a huge failure. I just knew that Nicknack, who was so unbelievably precious, deserved such a better mother! I told my husband and mother things like, "I might as well go back to work because Nicholas would be MUCH better off with a nanny or in day care. He'd be better off with ANYONE other than me!"

I guess I always thought the moment I had a child I would become a perfect person. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. The first inkling I had that motherhood wouldn't bring an instant "extreme makeover" was during my pregnancy. I noticed that I was still eating junk food. I assumed I would be one of those health nutty pregnant gals, because it was what was best for the baby. And here I was, living on macaroni and cheese. Hmm. I decided that the drastic transformation would accompany childbirth.

Giving birth was awesome. I've never felt such joy or pride.

But, imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was still not perfect. Self-centered. Still lazy sometimes. Still a procrastinator. Still watching too much tv.

In short, I was still me. LAME!

It has taken me several months to get a grip. The most helpful thing has been honesty of other moms.

One of my favorite aunts got wind of my delayed baby blues and sent me a lovely letter describing her own feelings of inadequacy as a new parent. This from one of the women I consider to be an ideal mother. I often wish I lived in a more old fashioned world. You know, where people stay in the same small town for a lifetime, surrounded by older and wiser family members and family friends. This letter gave me that feeling.

A few funny Christian mom blogs have been a saving grace. The transparency of these women has helped me to realize that most moms consider themselves flawed and sometimes feel unworthy. Laughing along at the antics of these strangers has helped to fill the friendship void in my life, and given me ideas and inspiration.

There is a website with nothing but "True Mom Confessions." Although I've sworn off this site (because a) it's too time consuming and b) some of the confessions are dark), it helped me to realize how many mom's struggle as I do.

My own mother has given me the best non-Biblical advice I've received, to date. "Muddle through." She revealed this parenting gem to me during one of many tear filled phone calls. I don't know why I think this advice is so profound; it would take 1000 words for me to explain. It just works for me. Her main point was that you just do the best you can, don't even AIM for perfection, don't sweat the small stuff, etc. The beauty is, you can't fail AND your kids never know the difference. I think this must be true, because I always decribe my mom as "perfect" and a "Supermom" type. From my perspective, she was the best. But from her perspective, she was just doing the best she could and hoping it was good enough!

So I've been enjoying motherhood a lot more these days. I realize I'm not a perfect mom, but I'm a GOOD mom. That's what I'm shooting for. And it isn't hard at all. Perfect: impossible. Good, I can handle. I'm finding more joy in the time I spend with Nicholas. Focusing less on me and my flaws and more on him and his amazingness. And I can used words like amazingness, because I'm good, not perfect.