Sunday, March 23, 2008

Happy Easter, Easter Bunny! Bwak Bwak!

Happy Easter everyone. A proud moment in parenting as I made it to sunrise service with child in tow. We leave for Memphis tomorrow so Lucas can see both sets of grandparents, his aunt, and meet his uncle and cousins. A member asked me if Lucas received an Easter basket this year. I told her, "No, not this year, definitely next." And then I reassured her that in no way had he been deprived of any Easter chocolate. I've been eating enought for the two of us.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Lucas T.

So, it has been forever since I had two minutes to myself to brush my hair or go to the bathroom, let alone try to put together some words to make a coherent sentence. I have found myself speaking some garbled, slurred jargon, the likes of which makes The Rev. wonder if I have decided to drown motherhood in a sea of gin. Rest assured I have not, but I have had to imbibe a margarita once this week.

I am back to work, and I have been for the past three weeks. Maternity leave was wonderful, and I did not want to return to work. However, mortgage payments call, and I know Lucas is in good hands with Papa Rev. The memory of the first day back at work is like my memory of my doctor putting Lucas on my chest right after he was born. I can recall it in a second. I was standing at the kitchen sink, trying to swallow some oatmeal through my sniffling. I don't like to cry. My mama didn't raise a wimp, but motherhood--the act of just mothering Lucas, has made my heart a soft, quivering bowl of pudding. I teared up at a Hallmark movie last night. The sight of an infant in a cheesy Hallmark movie caused my eyes to get a little misty. Lucas used to be that small.

Lucas is now a 15 pound, 3 month old chunk of baby pudding. We call him Mr. Serious, because his face is totally deadpan, just looking at the world. He'll crack a smile at you, but then he goes right back to stoic. He has made Lent interesting, as I couldn't recall one sermon I "heard" these past few weeks, and last night, after Maundy Thursday services, The Rev. asked me how I liked his sermon.

"It was fine, what I heard."

"You didn't hear all of it?"

"You didn't hear your son screaming in the back of the church?"

"No--he was screaming?"

Yes, I can count on one hand the number of sermons I have heard since the child's first advent into church. You would think he would like the sound of his father's voice. Maybe it is the law preaching. He always screams during the law preaching, so he misses the gospel. Perhaps we can persuade The Rev. to preach the gospel first and then preach the law. Anyway, baby wrangling on Sunday has become a little easier as we get used to being parents.

We would not trade this time for anything, even though my heart shatters each day I drive to work. I know my boy is in good hands, they are just not my hands, and that is the part of parenthood that hurts the most.