Lock down

Busy season drags on. Mary and I continue to hang out by ourselves a lot. I've never really minded snow before. I like shoveling it. I like playing it in. I like[d] skiing as I mentioned here.

One of the reasons I enjoy snow is that it has never really slowed me down much. I have a car with AWD a healthy [over]dose of confidence in driving in inclement weather, thanks to both of my parents. I don't mind the cold. I can go about my day normally, but with the beautiful blanket of white snow on the ground. I am independent.

Insert motherhood. 

I would love to pretend like it'd be totally fine to lug Mary to-and-fro, shopping, going to playdates, etc. However, it isn't really socially acceptable to lug a 3 month old around on my frolicking, unnecessary adventures when it is 8 degrees outside and cold and flu season.

(Please note: Necessary trips are necessary. Don't judge a mom for taking her baby to the grocery store in the cold, m'kay? Actually, just don't judge moms in general. They're doing their best.)

So I have been on house arrest, under quarantine, in lockdown, for the last few weeks. I was about to lose it. Hubs worked from home on a snow day and even though he was diligently working, I was able to put Mary down for her nap, leave him with the monitor, and walk to the store during the snow storm. Mostly just so I could leave the house. Do I sound psycho yet? Yup. It's ugly. 

And when the weather said it would be 40 degrees on Sunday and hubs would finally have 3 free hours in the middle of the day (yes, 3 free hours is a BIG win!) I was exctatic. I asked him to please watch her for just an hour or two so I could run some errands. You know what happened? Snow came out of nowhere. NOWHERE, people! And I cried. I wish I was kidding. But I'm not. I actually cried. Then I tried to make soup and I burned the bacon and cried more. Yes, this is real.

Goodbye, control! I no longer have control over my own schedule. 

However, here is something beautiful: One of the things that I loved during this season of lockdown is my beautiful community of friends and family. When you're at home alone with a baby or babies because your husband is traveling or working so many hours he might as well be traveling, you can go a little crazy. As if I weren't crazy enough to start with! 

When I want coffee, Alyson, whose girls are with a sitter, drops of a latte. 

When it is warm enough to get out and I haven't spoken with an adult in 36 hours, I go to Kristin's and watch her girls play. 

When it is nap time and I can't leave, Julie stops by with her [not so] little boy to say hi for 15 minutes. 

When grandmommy is getting a little twitchy cause she hasn't seen Mary in a week (spoiled grandmommy), she comes to make her laugh.

When I desperately need to workout, my sister stops by for an hour and a half and tries her darnedest to get Mary to nap. She stays and extra half hour to give me time to shower.

When I need an hour- just one solid hour- to run into 3 stores without lugging the carseat around, my neighbor watches Mary and takes adorable pictures of her. 

And my sweet husband works so diligently. Long hours. Yesterday he woke up Mary before he went to work. You know that rule about never waking a sleeping baby? Doesn't apply here. He said "she is so much bigger than when I held her last two days ago!" Probably so. She is growing. 

Here are my conclusions, particularly relevant to moms*:
* Preaching to myself here. Friends, help me to do these things well. 

1. Single moms are amazing. Let's rally together and help them. 

2. If your husband is around, don't take him for granted!

3. If he's not, don't rub it in his face. Encourage him. 

4. Spring is better than winter for babies. 

5. Community is wonderful. There are times to be the giver and times to be the receiver. But whatever you do, engage in community. Ask for help. Give help. If you're not doing both, you're missing out.

And finally and most importantly

If busy season lasted three more months

If I didn't leave the house for a week

If the sixty degree weather that is forecasted for next week turns into 6 more inches of snow

And if I didn't know another person in this beautiful city...

God is good. God is enough. I'm okay. 
Easy enough to say when circumstances are in my favor. But when the rubber meets the road, I want that to be true of me. So I pray for it.

Perfect timing. Nap is over. Off I go. 

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#daddysgirl

Early on a friend of mine (I don't even remember which one) said "isn't it fun to watch your husband learn to be a dad?" Yes. Oh my goodness. Yes.

Have you ever read Of Mice and Men? Well then you know Lennie. If you don't remember him, spoiler alert: Lennie is large and too strong for his own good. He loves his pets so much that he consistently squeezes them to death. There is lots more to that book, but I just remember Lennie.

Now let me warn you, this is a very limited analogy...
Often when Brett when is spending time with Mary he says "I just love her so much I could squeeze her to death!" Well dear, please don't. But around our house we call those Lennie moments. Brett is absolutely in love with Mary. And Mary adores her daddy. She gives him crazy smiles. Watches KU games with him. And I swear she hugs him. Here are a few of my favorite Brett & Mary pics so far.

After work, with Mack

KU basketball watching

He's trying to read and she keeps distracting him

Post-nap stretches are the absolute cutest

Hugs. *sigh*

#daddysgirl
#bejealous
#hestaken

Note: This post was not endorsed, or even previewed, by my dear husband. He will probably be like "you posted whaaaaat?" But I thought you should see these :-)

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Friday Night "Fun"

The busy season schedule comes with plenty of challenges for us all, as we’ve discussed. Long days during the week. Getting up early to go in again on Saturday. And even occasionally plugging in to work after our church friends leave on Sunday nights (around 9pm). That is why I so look forward to Friday night. On Friday night, my best friend leaves work on time and we get to spend the evening together. Often that includes a happy hour or dinner out. It is the one night a week where it is completely acceptable to ask “when will you be home?”

Two weeks ago on a Friday I asked that innocent question. He was going to leave right at 5. We agreed that we would meet at a nearby Mexican restaurant for a few margaritas and chips and head home for dinner. It was Restaurant Week so most places in town require reservations a few days in advance.

At 5:05 I got a text from the Mister that said “I’ll be leaving in 5. Call you from the car.” So 5:15 rolls around. And 5:30. And 5:40. No call. Am I annoyed? Nooooo. Yes. Yes, I am. The little lady is fussy at this point because she is due for her late afternoon nap. I expected she would fall asleep in the car on the way to the restaurant 30 minutes ago. Do you know how long 30 minutes feels when you have a tired fussy baby? Really long, that’s how long. So I’m trying to console this little one while in my head…

Really? Really? How hard is it to leave on time once a week.

It’s just me and Mary all week long- morning, evening, middle of the night. And now he is making it even more difficult for me?

Are there other people working? Who is keeping him there?

Ugh. There is going to be a wait at the restaurant now. Doesn’t he know the difference between showing up at 5:15 and 6?

Sooo inconsiderate. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m mad. I’m sad.

These are all very upright, godly thoughts of course.

And I’m always on time so I’ve never been guilty.

And none of you have ever felt this way about anyone being late to meet you.

Duh.

So about this time my phone rings. An 800 number.

“Hello, is this Samantha?”

“Yes.” (Is this another vacation company trying to sell me on a package?)

“My name is Reuben from the Main Street Building Security” (Ugh. Brett forgot to bring money to get out of the parking garage and now I’m going to have to go bring cash.) “Brett is currently stuck in an elevator inside our building and does not have cell phone service. He is fine and we do have a technician on the way, but he asked me to call you to let you know he will be late for whatever appointment you have this evening.”

Insert lump in throat here.  “Oh wow. Okay. Is there anyone with him?”

“Yes ma’am. I believe there is one other gentlemen with him.”

“Okay. Well, glad to hear everything is alright. Thank you for calling.”

“Have a good evening.”

“You too.” 

I hung up and immediately confessed my stupid selfishness. My stupid sin.

I’m sitting here- at home, with water, and food, and a bathroom, and more than 10 square feet to move- stewing over how selfish he is. Little did I know he had been stuck in an elevator for 30 minutes. And would continue to have to wait another 45 to get out. Forgive me. Make my heart quit being so darn selfish. Of course he wants to get home too. Of course he wants to see me and Mary. He was not intentionally killing time with coworkers to avoid coming home. And now, ugh. I’m a jerk. Forgive me, Lord.

He called 45 minutes later. A total of 75 minutes in that darned elevator. There are two elevators banks in that building: one serving floors 1-15 and the other 16-30 (approximately). He was coming down from 20-something so when the elevator started to pick up speed and abruptly stopped, the elevator screen where the number should be read “XX”. That stands for “no-man’s-land where even if the elevator doors would open there is just a wall on the other side so you couldn’t get out”.

He was able to push a service button to talk to someone and let them know they were stuck. That man called the technician and said “is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Ugh. Get us out?”

No. He didn’t ask that. He asked that man, that voice, Reuben, to call his wife and apologize for being late.

Soooo there’s a dose of humility for you. For me.

We ended up going to dinner that night at a different Mexican restaurant. It took a while to find an opening and it was stressful. But we got there and enjoyed a date night with our little girl. Friday night worked out just fine.

And here is a thought: It would have been easy to pretend I was never mad.  It would have been easy to just think “Well, I was wrong. Glad it wasn’t me in that elevator!” To never tell him how angry I was. “Oh no big deal. I’m glad you’re fine! We were just killing time until you got home.” But it was important- really important- to apologize. To ask for forgiveness for being a butthead, even I never said anything mean. To confess my selfishness to God. Because if I can’t admit I’m wrong in that moment, how could I ask for forgiveness for the ickier stuff? We have to practice that sort of thing.

Don’t worry. We still aren’t good at Friday nights.  I got mad the next Friday too. I apologized and so did he. And then we had a great night.

Humility. By God’s grace, I’m learning. 

"... In humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." 

(Philippians 2:3b,4)

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