Expect the Unexpected
If there is one thing I have learned as a mother, it is that children will alter your life forever and your plans in the blink of an eye.
For instance...
This morning our family, dressed nicely and behaving well, was enjoying a pleasant drive to the church in Maryland where Wesley & his family first joined the plain people because the church was celebrating it's 50th anniversary when suddenly, 10-15 minutes from our destination, the toddler opened his mouth and threw up.
Just. like. that.
Without warning, the day had just switched from Plan A to Plan B.
Now what?
The first thing we had to do on this new course was obvious: park by the side of the road and clean up the mess.
Once Parker and his carseat had been restored to as much cleanliness as was possible with a wipes and a change of clothes, we had a decision to make...
Should we take the chance that this was a case of carsickness, albeit his first, and go on to church?
Should we all turn around and go home?
Should Wesley meet up with his parents, who were also driving down to the anniversary meetings, and go on with them to church while I took Parker home to spare us the possibility of further scenes?
We decided on the latter, even though it must be said that Wesley was quite willing to go home if need be! I didn't want to give the people at this church the impression that Wesley was in a marriage with a woman who wouldn't accompany him to "strange churches" or (horrors!) that I was an independant woman who did my own thing, but I wanted my son to throw up on the carpet in the "strange church" even less!!!
When Wesley's parents pulled into the McDonalds parking lot where we had decided to rendezvous so that we could make use of the restrooms, Gavin got into the little blue car with his father. He had been close to tears at the prospects of returning home, whereas Elasa had been adamant about wanting to come home with me, so in the end they were both happy, and their mother felt that she got off easy with only two children to look after (albeit one that smelled rather sour!)
We made our way home with Parker quite happy and chipper! Singing his own special version of Angles We Have Heard On High, and remarking on the various trucks that frequent the interstate, he didn't seem to mind in the least that he was sequestered in a smelly car seat.
In fact, he seemed quite pleased with the situation, and if I had not known better, I would have thought that he had concocted it to stay out of church!
Pulling into the driveway just about two-and-a-half hours after we had so innocently backed out of it, I immediately set about cleaning and scrubbing.
It felt a bit odd to be making such liberal use if the hose and scrub brush on a Sunday morning, but I am pretty sure it fell under the category of "digging the horse out of the ditch" that is acceptable for a day of rest.
By the time the carseat was scrubbed and left on the picnic table to dry, and Parker was bathed and dressed in his third set of clothes for the day, and a load of laundry was churning, it was lunch time.
Lunch time without the man of the house and the oldest son was a quieter, quicker affair than usual, but the three of us that remained dined on fish, green beans and salad, with Parker digging into his fare with a right good will.
I had been suspicious that after his one incident of throwing up, Parker would be fine, and indeed, I was right.
But tell me: how is a mother always to know?
Sometimes I wish for a display on my children's foreheads to tell me exactly what's going on internally.
A flashing "error" sign to warn me that the stomach is in tsunami mode before they open their mouth and let it all hang out would be downright handy.
An "all clear" sign to say if this is the last episode would put the mind at ease.
And an "incoming" if more is on the way would be providential.
Instead, we stumble along making judgment calls and decisions based on what we can see, smell, hear and, yes, what we can imagine (aka throw up on the church carpet and/or on the parents who do not have a change of clothes!)
Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don't.
Either way, at the end of a day in which our plans have been turned on their heads, we know that we will get up the next day and do this "motherhood" business all over again.
And sometimes I wonder why?
Why do people the world over put themselves in a position of constant vulnerability, altered lives, changed plans and inevitable throw-up episodes at the most inopportune times for the sake of having children?
The answer is both simple & mysterious: we do it for love.
With a little consolation prize of chocolate on the side.
For instance...
This morning our family, dressed nicely and behaving well, was enjoying a pleasant drive to the church in Maryland where Wesley & his family first joined the plain people because the church was celebrating it's 50th anniversary when suddenly, 10-15 minutes from our destination, the toddler opened his mouth and threw up.
Just. like. that.
Without warning, the day had just switched from Plan A to Plan B.
Now what?
The first thing we had to do on this new course was obvious: park by the side of the road and clean up the mess.
Once Parker and his carseat had been restored to as much cleanliness as was possible with a wipes and a change of clothes, we had a decision to make...
Should we take the chance that this was a case of carsickness, albeit his first, and go on to church?
Should we all turn around and go home?
Should Wesley meet up with his parents, who were also driving down to the anniversary meetings, and go on with them to church while I took Parker home to spare us the possibility of further scenes?
We decided on the latter, even though it must be said that Wesley was quite willing to go home if need be! I didn't want to give the people at this church the impression that Wesley was in a marriage with a woman who wouldn't accompany him to "strange churches" or (horrors!) that I was an independant woman who did my own thing, but I wanted my son to throw up on the carpet in the "strange church" even less!!!
When Wesley's parents pulled into the McDonalds parking lot where we had decided to rendezvous so that we could make use of the restrooms, Gavin got into the little blue car with his father. He had been close to tears at the prospects of returning home, whereas Elasa had been adamant about wanting to come home with me, so in the end they were both happy, and their mother felt that she got off easy with only two children to look after (albeit one that smelled rather sour!)
We made our way home with Parker quite happy and chipper! Singing his own special version of Angles We Have Heard On High, and remarking on the various trucks that frequent the interstate, he didn't seem to mind in the least that he was sequestered in a smelly car seat.
In fact, he seemed quite pleased with the situation, and if I had not known better, I would have thought that he had concocted it to stay out of church!
Pulling into the driveway just about two-and-a-half hours after we had so innocently backed out of it, I immediately set about cleaning and scrubbing.
It felt a bit odd to be making such liberal use if the hose and scrub brush on a Sunday morning, but I am pretty sure it fell under the category of "digging the horse out of the ditch" that is acceptable for a day of rest.
By the time the carseat was scrubbed and left on the picnic table to dry, and Parker was bathed and dressed in his third set of clothes for the day, and a load of laundry was churning, it was lunch time.
Lunch time without the man of the house and the oldest son was a quieter, quicker affair than usual, but the three of us that remained dined on fish, green beans and salad, with Parker digging into his fare with a right good will.
I had been suspicious that after his one incident of throwing up, Parker would be fine, and indeed, I was right.
But tell me: how is a mother always to know?
Sometimes I wish for a display on my children's foreheads to tell me exactly what's going on internally.
A flashing "error" sign to warn me that the stomach is in tsunami mode before they open their mouth and let it all hang out would be downright handy.
An "all clear" sign to say if this is the last episode would put the mind at ease.
And an "incoming" if more is on the way would be providential.
Instead, we stumble along making judgment calls and decisions based on what we can see, smell, hear and, yes, what we can imagine (aka throw up on the church carpet and/or on the parents who do not have a change of clothes!)
Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don't.
Either way, at the end of a day in which our plans have been turned on their heads, we know that we will get up the next day and do this "motherhood" business all over again.
And sometimes I wonder why?
Why do people the world over put themselves in a position of constant vulnerability, altered lives, changed plans and inevitable throw-up episodes at the most inopportune times for the sake of having children?
The answer is both simple & mysterious: we do it for love.
With a little consolation prize of chocolate on the side.
Hasn't every mom been there - having her plans turned upside down and shaken out - and wishing to know what malady her child had so she could make plans for the rest of the day!
ReplyDeleteGlad you could take a change in plans with a good attitude!
We did not make it to Yarrowsburg for their celebration either since my husband had to preach at another church - but it would have been fun to run into you there if we would have both made it!
Gina
Gina