Expecting the Unexpected

This pretty much sums it up.  

I still vividly remember a day when Caroline was about 2 weeks old when I just needed out of the house.  Things had been going really well, but I hadn't been anywhere alone with my two children, and I was thinking a short trip to the library or Target might cheer me up and get me past that hump.  But you know how stuff goes when they are so little- first she fell asleep and then she pooped and I had to change her clothes, and then she pooped again, and I had to change her clothes, again...

Pretty soon is was two o'clock in the afternoon and I was calling my Mom crying.  I was frustrated and hormonal and really tired of being in my house.  My Mom came over and reminded me that I was going to have to be flexible for a while.

Be flexible.

For a long time I thought I was a Type B personality.  I blame this entirely on my twin sister, whose OCD leanings frequently made me think I was laid back when I am really just as much of a control freak as anyone else.  Just because I don't care if my shoes are straight, doesn't mean I'm not (at times) unreasonably uptight about some things.  I like things to fit in their little boxes.  I like to be on time and organized.

Being flexible is not the easiest thing in the world when you want to be in control.

After Caroline was born I was sort of shocked at how much more difficult it was.  It was only one extra little person who couldn't even move themselves... how hard could it be?  But seriously, it was one extra person who couldn't even move themselves.  On top of that, the real difficulties were often because of Jonah.  Suddenly, he wasn't sleeping, and he was throwing tantrums like you wouldn't believe.  In public.  It was certainly a big change for all of us, but for Jonah it was exceptionally difficult.  He had lost all control of everything.  It took a while for him to be okay with the changes, and there are still times when he will copy Caroline because she doesn't get in trouble for things that he isn't allowed to do.
I can relate, though.  As frustrated as I have gotten with him at various times over the last year, part of me has never forgotten that he is still just adjusting to a complete shift in the balance of things.

How do you expect the unexpected?  How do you prepare for the thing you didn't know to prepare for?

Be flexible.

It's the thing I've been telling myself a lot for the past few weeks.  I am expecting the unexpected.  It's poor timing, and sooner than I would have wanted in any scenario, but just because it's unexpected and just because it required a major mental rebalance, and just because it changes some serious life plans, doesn't mean it's a bad thing.  Change is good, I keep telling myself.

And just in case you were wondering... January 14th.

My Pretty Pony

Several years ago I read a short story by Stephen King titled, "My Pretty Pony."  It was pretty different from most of the things you would expect to read in a collection of Stephen King's short stories.  There wasn't a gruesome creature and no one was murdered.  According to wikipedia: An elderly man, his death rapidly approaching, takes his young grandson up onto a hill behind his house and gives the boy his pocketwatch. Then, standing among falling apple blossoms, the man also "gives instruction" on the nature of time: how when you grow up, it begins to move faster and faster, slipping away from you in great chunks if you don't hold tightly onto it. Time is a pretty pony, with a wicked heart.


I originally remembered it because it was so different form the other stories in the book, but as I grow older I find that (as in many other things) Stephen King was right.  Time is a pretty pony that will dart away if you aren't paying attention.  Before you know it, you've lost months to simple inattention, or business.  


I can't tell you how many times I've been stopped in the grocery store in the last year and had some older woman tell me that she remembers how sweet her children were at Jonah and Caroline's ages.  She's always got a little glimmer of wistful sadness in her eyes, as though she'd like nothing more than to make her children young again so she could scoop them up in her arms and cuddle them all day. It never fails that when this happens I have been having the kind of day where I might gladly trade my children for a bottle of Cheerwine and a bubble bath. 


God is probably using them all to tell me something.  Slow Down!  Spend more time playing with them and even less time cleaning and doing laundry!  This will pass so quickly- you don't want to miss these moments.  


How many times a day do I tell my children to hurry up?  How many times do I become impatient with them because they want to stop and look at every leaf or flower?  


*sigh!*


My children are currently napping and I am thinking of the dozen or so things on my to-do list that seems only to grow longer as the day goes on.  Even these few moments that I have to myself feel too few and too fast.  


I take more pictures.  I try to spend a little time alone with each child every day.  I try to have more patience, less worry about the dishes and cobwebs in the corners.  Jonah grows and inch every time I turn around and Caroline is getting big so fast.  I want him to be innocent and for her to have the chance to be a baby for a while longer, but time marches forward.  Gallops forward.  


So I'll take a minute and reign in the seconds... I'll count them slowly so they don't slip away.