Sweet moments passed up

Today Steve and I went to lunch with some family.  We took Amelia with us.
She was fussy all morning and afternoon.  Eventually, she took her fussiness to a level of loudness and, with mounting frustration, I hurried outside so as to spare the other customers.
I was so put out with her that I was in a bad mood and testy with Steve.  Even as I tended to my daughter, I pushed away the thought that I wouldn't be so impatient with her if we had been at home.  I would cooed over her and rocked her and read books to her.  I would have given her my undivided attention.
I found it quite unfair that she can be so well behaved and happy 90% of the time, but we go out to eat for a little birthday lunch and she takes up all the time and energy we have.
When we arrived back home, I took her in my arms, fed her, read to her, cuddled a little and then we smiled back and forth for a while.  Such a sweet and precious time.  Then, as I laid her in her crib, she went peacefully and quickly to sleep.  As soon as I gave her my complete attention, I was sorry I had been so upset with her.  I just wanted to have a little fun the way I did before she entered our lives.  I have found a few opportunities to enjoy such times, but most of the time it just is not going to be that way anymore.  I am a mother and my time is not just mine and my husband's anymore.
Right now, my world revolves around my little girl and if I don't cherish it, I think I will deeply regret it for the rest of my life.

Changing course

So I think this blog should be entitled, "Rebekah's Extremely Inconsistent and Random Thoughts".
I need a place to write and here it is for now.
I need something more consistent to write about.  As much as I've tried to fight being one of those moms who only writes about her kids, I am headed in that direction.  At the moment my whole world is my daughter and I have new updates every day about her.  Incidentally, this blog is just going to be about anything - mostly whatever goes on in my life.  Currently that is Amelia.

Today was another precious day Amelia.  She woke me up at 7:00am.  I had planned on getting up at that time anyway; in fact that is usually the plan.  Usually, though, Amelia gets to it before my alarm does, which is a little annoying since I would like only five minutes to myself before I hear her little voice in the other room.

So the routine is usually as follows - this morning being no exception: I roll out of bed, my eyes dried out from the fan that blows all night.  I turn on the light in Amelia's room and say good morning.  Immediately she stops crying and I hear some sort of flopping noise.  As I peak my head over the crib and say hello, she gives me this heart-melting grin and drops her face in the sheet and wiggles around in delight.  Mommy's here!

So then my slightly irritated attitude is completely ruined because there is no possible way to not get excited about holding a little girl who is so happy to see me.  We had a sweet time together while I fed her and played  with her.  After her first nap, I packed us up for a walk over to the Tempe Town Lake splash pad.  A splash pad is basically a tiny little water park with water fountains spraying out of the ground or filling buckets hanging high in the air so as to ultimately dump cool water on heads down below.
This was our fourth time visiting the splash pad.  Each time, Amelia gets more interested and cooperative.  She is content to have me set her in a puddle near a tiny little fountain of water.  It is a hot thirty minute walk over to the park so we are both ready for cool off in the water by the time we arrive.  Amelia, though, was already half way to getting wet since she had peed her suit on the way over.  I suppose it was a little too much to ask of a kid still in diapers.
We sat and splashed a little for fifteen minutes or so.  We made friends with a few girls from a summer camp that was visiting the park for the morning.  They gathered around to coo over Amelia.
Apparently, ten year old kids are incapable of grasping the concept of any age under one year old.  I tried to tell them Amelia was five months old, but they kept asking if she was one.  Finally I said she was not even one year old yet and she couldn't even eat food yet.  "Oh!  So she's zero!"  Yes.  I think maybe that was more difficult than it needed to be.  Perhaps I need to familiarize myself with such conversations as I suppose I will be engaging in more of them when my own little girl is a few years older.
Soon we headed home and it was lunch and nap time for Amelia.  The rest of the day was rather uneventful.

I recently learned how to give a bath successfully without half drowning my kid; my dear sister-in-law enlightened me.  I filled the tub very little and laid Amelia on her back.  She loved it.  She played with her ducky and splashed and splashed and splashed.  How is it that a baby splashing in the bath is so precious?  Who knew splashing was such a big deal?
And then it was bedtime.  I turned the music on sleep so it would turn off an hour after I put her to bed.  Exactly an hour later, after I was half-asleep, I heard a cry out of the darkness.  I rolled my eyes and lay there for a minute.  Finally, I went to her room, realizing that the music had probably stopped.  I tip-toed in, pushed play again and stole back out.  I haven't heard a peep since then.  Although, thanks to that little incident, I am wide awake and can't go back to sleep.  So I sit here, writing about our beautiful daughter.  Perhaps sleep will come soon, because I have only until 7:00 tomorrow morning.

Getting to Know the Neighbors

A few weekends ago we held a get-to-know-your-neighbor cookout on our front porch/balcony.
We have talked for far too long about doing this and finally took the step to make it happen. 
We have knocked over a wall that we have been hitting for a long time. 

Initially, we put little invites on the doors of our four nearest neighbors a few days previous.  When none of them showed up that day, while Steve cooked hot dogs, I knocked on every door in our courtyard - 30 doors.  While a number of people excitedly said they would drop by as they headed to work, no one did.  The successful part of the whole event was that I met about 15 people I have lived next to for almost a year and never spoken to.

While I got some mixed reactions to my spontaneous introduction, most people seemed pleasantly surprised at my approach.  It was a flashback to our days working with Apartment Life ministry.  People open their doors to strangers with a wariness for which I cannot blame them.  I would do the same.  When they discover we come with friendly intentions, their whole demeanor changes and they become disarmed.  While the world has become a more unsafe place, offering a relationship is almost never refused.  People crave relationship - even introverts. 

On another note, it is an eye opener to go to people's homes and discover who and what exists behind those doors.  Our neighborhood, I discovered, consists mostly of ASU students and Somalian families or single Somalian men.  You can discover the demographics of your neighborhood just by meeting your neighbors.  Steve and I discovered we are in the majority.  We have not met any couples with babies and not a single actual married couple.  Such diversity can be inviting.  We want to take advantage of that.

This cookout was not as successful as we would have liked it to be; two people came.  But now we have an idea of what didn't work, we understand the demographics a little more: single working moms, busy ASU students and couples who work all the time, etc.  We are motivated to try again soon with different times in the day and new tactics.
We are excited to see what comes next!

A New Perspective

Recently I have been exposed to a new perspective of Jesus' crucifixion.

It never occurred to me that He was a victim of abuse!

To put it that way causes to me look at His crucifixion in a way I never imagined. 

Jesus' abuse was - at the least - physical and verbal; physical to the extreme.  

Many have experienced abuse and so know - to some extent - the emotions He experienced: incredible shame, depression, humiliation, feeling unworthy of any goodness, maybe even suicidal... 

On top of that He experienced every emotion resulting from every sin ever committed.  

That is something I could ever experience.  

Additionally, I could never experience the total separation from God that Jesus did.  

And on top of that, God - Jesus' Father - subjected Him to this torture.  

Jesus' Father was the One He looked to for love and guidance and hope that He would be taken from this non-perfect world back to His holy home.  

And this Father - in Jesus' greatest time of need - abandoned Him leaving Him completely unprotected from the merciless abuse. 

His Father left Him to this feeling of betrayal and abandonment.  

When Jesus felt the weight of every single sin, He experienced evil in His soul - something He had never experienced.

In spite of it, He asked God to forgive each and every one of the performers of those sins.  

Oh...my...God... how can it be...that You could and would possibly ever do this for me?!  

But ultimately it was for Your glory.  

Your Son, Jesus, understood that.  

And Your glory meant so much to Him that it gave Him hope enough to endure the abuse that He endured.

Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother's Day.  I have memories of Mother's Day in my home growing up.
The day started with church and the pink carnations they handed out to the moms.  Mom liked flowers so I always thought she must love getting flowers at church!  We went home and the rest of the day consisted of Dad helping us realize how special Mom was in our family.  I remember lots of foot rubs and back massages.  We all knew that was her favorite.  Even though we rarely voiced it, Mom was the one who kept our lives in order and the chaos down - at least that is my memory.

This year was my first Mother's Day.  It did not feel different from any other day.  Granted I have only been a mom for 3 months and - all things considered - my daughter does not require that much work yet.  There is not much chaos for me to grab and take hold of and our lives certainly not in order yet since Amelia has been born.
I feel it is unnecessary to celebrate my accomplishments the last three months.  My church did not hand out carnations but instead it was chocolate candy bars!  On my first Mother's Day my husband worked and I missed the chocolate candy bars because I was in the bathroom feeding Amelia.  Steve was unable to even surprise me with flowers because we are down to one car and I took him to and from work.
I decided this year was not much of a celebration of my motherhood, but rather a welcome into the reality of motherhood : )  Those realities are such things as toting the baby around town by myself while my husband provides food and shelter for us.  The realities of learning to be flexible when I miss out on free chocolate.  The reality that my life now revolves - literally - around my baby daughter.  The reality that she cannot thank me because she has no idea of my sacrifices and, therefore, does not care.  She is incapable of giving me that foot rub for now.
As much as I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, it has been difficult to accept as being such a special and important role.  I find myself saying to people that I am "just a stay-at-home mom".  But the longer I am a mom, the more acquainted I become with Amelia, the more I realize my mind is saturated with thoughts of her and I am consumed all day with just taking care of her.  And I realize suddenly that I am okay with that.  While I wish, sometimes, I had the time to do some other things, I do not regret the enormous chunk of my day that is spent at home with my daughter.  She is who gave me the gift of motherhood.
I guess that is how I am celebrating Mother's Day this year.

Life as we know it

I have a daughter now.  It still sounds strange to say.  Every little girl pretends to have a baby.  I am not a little girl anymore; I have a little girl.  And my husband is a daddy.
What I have learned the most about having a baby - so far - is maintaining a marriage.  So far I think we have gone through some lessons, learned from them and matured a little more each time.  Steve and I have fought very little since we met almost five years ago.  Since Amelia was born, we have fought more than we have in the last year and a half - which is not much, but still much more often than usual.
One time we had a fight while Amelia was crying.  I told Steve no matter how big of a fight it is, I never want to fight while our kids are out of hand ever again.  It makes things twenty times worse than they really are.
I do not know what it is about having a kid that makes fights more frequent, but in some ways it has been good.  It has brought out new things about ourselves that neither of us realized were there - weather good or bad.
I think most of it has been for the better because I see us more in love than we ever have been.  Maybe it is that we are becoming more real with each other.  What other choice do we have?  We need each other more than ever now because neither of us know how to raise a child.  We cannot do it alone and not being vulnerable with each other is never going to help us help each other when raising our kids.
Dates mean so much more now.  They are intentional and special.  I cannot explain it, but dates are so much fun.  It is like when we first met and started dating.  We do not just go out spontaneously; we can't.  We plan and prepare for it - like we would have if we were dating before we got married or even engaged.
And before we would have just gone to a movie or something.  Now we have increased our dating budget and we have gone kayaking on the lake, gone to an improve theater, ate at a nicer restaurant and taken walks to burger joints and sat on the patio just watching people.  Next I think we are going to the airport to get Starbucks and watch people again : )  We are getting creative, which is also fun.
We are beginning to see that a marriage is not just roses and butterflies.  We are seeing it needs to be intentional and we are discovering that intentional does not mean the fun part of marriage is gone.  It is so good.
On another note, having a baby has introduced more opportunities for interaction with our neighbors.  People love new babies : )  Since then we have been planning a little cookout with the neighbors in our building.  It is four apartments.  We are excited to get deeper than "Hi how's it goin?  How's your baby?  What's her name again?"  While friends from church are great who is close by when something happens in your life - whether big or small?  Your neighbors.  We want those people to know us and be concerned if something seems abnormal around our apartment.  We want those people around for a cup of sugar or a way to spend a relaxed Friday night.  There is bound to be someone home and not out partying or out to dinner and a movie.
We are going to start building that community around us with our cookout party.
Try it yourself and see what happens.

Engaging in Popular Culture

Recently, Steve and I got our first professional massage.  We had some gift money for preparing for the baby so we decided to take a little of it and get a massage.  We figured a massage was an essential element of preparing for a baby.  Besides the opportunity will possibly never present itself again, so we went for it.

We got one of those couples' massage deals and for me it was prenatal.  I was hoping for the entertainment of having one of those tables with the hole cut in the middle for my whale size belly to plop through.  No such luck. I got a body pillow.  Oh well.  I have discovered that one just never hears enough before getting pregnant about how physically awkward life really is when pregnant.  A massage is no exception.  

To begin with, I went to the bathroom before we left for the place, which was only ten minutes away.  We walked into the dim foyer to announce our appointment.  We were settled down with three pages of paper work to ensure we would not sue the company for any sort of reason.  We were encouraged to drink plenty of water enabling our bodies to detox better through hydration.  They were ignorant, of course, that my husband drinks around ten cups of water a day, while I drink 12-16!  I had already had about ten and had just relieved myself.  I was not about to drink more and risk interrupting my fifty minute massage!
I went one more time before we began.  I practically grunted my round self up onto the table.  I decided this place was not properly prepared for pregnant women - especially vertically challenged pregnant women.  I snuggled up to the body pillow.  Everything was dim and they played this elevator sort of music that normally I would have laughed at.  My ADD had kicked in and I had too much energy to be slow and relaxed and in the mood for this mellow environment.  Steve transitioned much more easily.
As a woman and talker and people pleaser, I resisted the obligated urge to make conversation with my masseuse.  I remained still and quiet.  I was amazed to discover how easy it was to succumb to the music and the candle light and the smells and a strange woman touching me.  I quickly went limp, occasionally falling into a doze.
The massage began at 6:13.  It ended at 6:54.  We were definitely jipped nine minutes.  Must we suffer because their schedule was running late.  What injustice!  Nonetheless, I grunted and rolled my way off the table and ran straight to the bathroom.  Upon exiting into the foyer, we were bombarded with a pleasant but boring shpiel about the never-ending benefits of becoming a member so we could return again and again for an amazing discount.  I suppose they assume everyone comes out from their massage hypnotized to respond with a "yes" to anything they offer.  Me - my brain was turned so much to mush that I scarcely comprehended a word they said.  I simply allowed my eyes to glaze, not at all concerned with whether or not they noticed.  I just let my determined and more awake husband adamantly refuse all offers.  The only thing I was able to intelligently form in my brain was the question of whether or not I could convince them to give us a discount for the nine minutes we missed out on.  Once again, though, I was overcome with lethargy and merely followed Steve out to the car.  Actually, I sort of limped out because I felt pains in odd places.  I suppose it was the detoxing of stress from the intense relaxation or whatever.
Steve and I decided it was too abrupt to end the evening there.  So we ran to the grocery store.  He bought a bottle of wine for himself and I bought a gallon of chocolate ice cream with chocolate chunks in it.  We got home and sat on the couch and savored our treats and talked when we felt like it.
I decided that Steve is capable of a massage just as good as that lady and he is free and he is in love with me. If we had money, though, and if I was not pregnant, I might invest in a monthly massage or something.  After involving ourselves in something that so much of our culture raves about, we decided, in general, it is not as big of a deal as others make it out to be.
My report to the world about professional massages: I suppose they are worth it... but if you desire the ultimate experience...do not go when you are pregnant.
Men have it so easy.