Packing and Playing in the Car: Roadtrip Throwback

This Thursday morning finds me revisiting my Disney posts. I'm trying to hastily throw together an impromptu trip. (An aside: Do big families really take impromptu trips to places a 1,000 miles away? Rhetorical question)

In my reminiscing, I am reminded how hard "vacations" can be for moms and I wonder why in the world we even try. But then,  I remember just how good these times are for families. And I remember how magical even a meal can be when it's a vacation meal.

Lots of people seem to be looking for some variation of "packing tips." Here's the post you want. We did our big roadtrip in the middle of winter. Here's a recap for your summer vacation adventures.

The last time I drove to my mother's in Ponte Vedra, Michael was eighteen and Karoline was an infant riding backwards. Mike flew in to meet us there. I drove the whole way. Karoline cried the whole way. It took us fourteen hours. I waited nearly five years to repeat that trip.

This time, Mike drove. Everyone is old enough to ride facing forward. And I applied everything I have ever learned about packing and planning for the car. Here's the brain dump.

Packing::

We began the packing process early and took our time working through it thoughtfully. Mary Beth was a huge help. Totally umprompted, she presented me with packing lists one morning and showed me how she had begun to gather into a laundry basket  all of the extra things we would need. Those basket items were then divided into things we would need in the car while we traveled and things that could be packed and put in the back. Then, it was divided again to cut down on what we actually needed and didn't need. The kids' bags were laid out on the floor, packed, checked, unpacked, repacked, checked, and one more for good measure;-). I'm happy to report no one underpacked (though a certain 13-year-old boy overpacked). 

We were lucky enough to have a washer and dryer in our hotel suite, a feature that was a huge help with eliminating extra clothes. I did laundry every day at my mother's house and every day at Disney World. The only dirty laundry we brought home was the laundry we were wearing. That made transition to home a bit easier.  The packing lists we created for the children included 3 pairs of jeans, 5 shirts (3 long sleeved, and 2 short sleeved), sweatshirt with hood, bathing suit, pajamas, underwear, socks, baseball cap, and sunglasses and clothes to wear for dinner at the club and church. The older kids were in charge of getting their car 'toys' into the car while the youngers had theirs packed in an extra bag (more on that later in the post). 

A note about shoes: About three weeks before we left, I took inventory of the shoes each child planned to wear while walking at Disney.I made sure they were in good repair and fit perfectly. I ended up buying new pairs for a couple of children and then encouraging them to wear them often before we left so that they'd be broken in and we'd catch any ill-fitting blister issues before leaving.

Car Bag 1: (this is a euphemism. We actulaly called it the "Throw Up Bag.").  The first car bag was packed with things we potentionally would need while we were in the car (a bag that wouldn't get packed and be unaccesible in the back of the car). We have several children who are prone to motion sickness. This bag was the go-to bag when someone started to gag. It included baby wipes, clorox wipes, gum, snacks, waterbottles (they weren't IN the bag but nearby), and plastic bins just in case of car sickness. I used these bins, so that I could put the lid on it and dispose of it as soon as possible. I also packed a roll of scented trash bags for nasty clothes and clean up trash.  In the accessible car bag, we included a change of clothes for each of our two littlest girls. 

Extra Things Bag: This was a catch-all bag for the stuff of every day living away from home. It included

• Tiger Balm patches  and cream (for mom's elbow, but they were used otherwise as well)
• bandaids (why, Mickey Mouse of course)
• neosporin
• blister packs (happy to say no one in our family needed them, but I did give one to someone else)
• nebulizer 
• cold medicine 
• Airborne
• sunscreen (something we definitely DID need)
• Advil
• breakfast food and some patnry items for meals prepared in the hotel. we ate all our breakfasts and some dinners in the hotel.
• glowsticks, needed for extra magic at night and great for helping to keep track of kids at the nighttime parade and fireworks
• garbage bags 
• laundry soap
• paper towels.  
• Tide to go
• Cinch sacks for everybody. I'll explain these in further detail in a later post, but we packed an empty cinch sack for each of us to use daily while we were there for water and snacks and other essentials. The boys regularly collect these at soccer tournaments and from shoe vendors, so we had planty of them around the house. Sarah's bag was the only one that was different. She had a teddy bear backpack that was a birthday gift. Since I ended up carrying her and her packpack more often than not, I'd think differently about her backpack if I had it to do again. My backpack was a frontpack. Sarah rode in it. So, my pocket for water and snacks was super small. I still managed to put trail mix in it and to stash a few bandaids, Tide-toGo, and lipgloss. I carried this purse with me everywhere. The size, the zippers and the velcro while I walked through throngs in the park made it perfect! (And here I admit that it made me happy that my hipster and my baby carrier happened to coordinate. It's the little things;-). 

AeroBed Sleep Tight Bed: So worth the money! This bed is extremely easy to inflate and so cozy to sleep in. If you need extra beds in the hotel room I strongly recommend these. I didn't pack these from home. My Aunt Lisette had them for her grandchildren and mentioned them to me. My mom borrowed them from her while we were staying at my mother's and then I packed them to take to Disney. I plan to buy some of our own. Katie and Sarah slept on them. Katie is nine and had plenty of room. One night, Sarah woke and I laid down next to her to put her back to sleep. I comfortably spent the rest of the night there. 

Download Disney Master List PDF.

Tips for a Happy Car Ride:

For the older kids they had the things they wanted in their own bags/pockets so they weren't forgotten. They mostly occupied themselves with iPods, laptops, and the occasional Kindle. They also slept a whole lot. iPod Touch: This is 14 hours of teen and tween peace at your fingertips, from Nick to Christian, all of the older kids had music, HD video camera, game apps, and, when needed, iCloud to find misplaced iPods. Audio books can be downloaded to these also and they can listen to them while playing apps.  While in wifi zones, the kids could also play Words with Friends against each other, update to Facebook, and check ESPN game scores.

For the younger kids, we kept their LeapPads, batteries, and  headphones in one bag ready and accessible to them. This was Car Bag 2, another accessible bag with extra batteries, markers, drawing paper, crosstich projects, extra embroidery floss and Kids Travel (by Klutz). This book matches its description as a backseat survival kit. Everyone had something fun to use in this book, it is definitely complete. Even if you don't plan on going on a trip anytime soon you might like this book, lots of fun mess-free things to do. 

About the LeapPad in Pink and LeapPad in Green.: These have gone up in price and are still extremely hard to find in stock. We bought them for each of the little girls for $99 each and that was their Christmas present from us (we don't do Santa--so the Leap Pad was it). I let them play with them Christmas Day and then I put them away until the trip. The recommended age is 4-8,  but I think it suits a much wider span. Sarah is three and LOVED it, and Stephen (13) and Nick (11) might have spent more time on them than Katie. Also, once we got to Disney these were great to have when they wanted to take pictures or even videos of Disney World.The camera isn't the greatest, but it is not awful and it captured for them what they wanted to remember. We only let them take the Leap Pads into the park on one day because I really didn't want to mess with carrying and remembering them. LeapFrog always does things well and this product is no exception. 

Make sleeping comfortable. We packed a pillow a person and some throw blankets..Those throw blankets were passed all around and helped tremendously when one person wanted the air conditioner up high and another person didn't want air conditioning at all.

Snacks on the Way and Border Treats: We packed a variety of snacks so that we could stretch time between stopping for meals and keep carsickness at bay. I tucked in granola bars in three different flavors, crackers, goldfish, trail mix, and things that would hopefully not make too much mess in the back. I did vacuum after arriving in Ponte Vedra, after returning to Ponte Vedra from Orlando, and after we got home before we returned the rental car.

The favorite treats were our border treats. This is a fun idea Lissa passed on to me when I drove to Florida several years ago.  Every time we crossed a border into another state, Katie would read aloud (or shout) the sign saying "Welcome to...", then the treat would be passed all around. On the way there we had: Peanut Butter Cups from Trader Joe's (you will never want Reese's again after tasting these), Smashing S'Mores from Trader Joe's, Minty Mallows from Trader Joe's, and Salted Caramel Chocolates. On the way home we had to go to a local grocery store and we had: Pirouettes, Coconut Dreams, Mint Cookies, and Chocolate Covered Ritz Crackers.

For my own entertainment, I packed some embroidery and some lovely floss. I had visions of stitching merrily for hours while I chatted with Mike. The reality was that I stitched a wee bit and then recognized that the van was not the smoothest ride and getting that needle right where I wanted it wasn't happening. Besides, the shifting light along the treeline as we traveled, combined with the needlework, made me start wondering about whether that Throw Up Bag was for me, too. I also packed a bunch of old design magazines, some glue, and a blank sketchbook to create an idea journal. That took about an hour:-). There were some new books, both print and audio awaiting me on my Kindle, but that just seemed rude to Mike, who was doing the real work of getting us there. Mostly, I just kept keeping the little girls happy. 

In order to maximize the benefit of gas and meal stops, I insisted everybody "give it a try" every time we stopped at a bathroom. For the most part, this strategy prevented the dreaded "I have to go" fifteen minutes after having just stopped. I will admit that I grew very, very weary of lifting Sarah onto every public toilet along the southeast coast. 

On the way down, the girls were battling carsicknesses mightily. Mike and I decided on a sitdown late breakfast at Cracker Barrel. After that stop, they were considerably better the rest of the trip. So, it was probably time well spent. But it did slow us quite a bit. On the trip home, we snacked more and stopped for fast food and potty breaks, but ate meals in the car. All in all, our best coping strategy for little bladders and motion-sick girlies was to accept it and just roll. We did what they needed and didn't try to push past their limits. 

One more note: we don't have a vehicle big enough for all of us any more, so one of our major expenses was the renting of a 15 passenger van. We had plenty of space for all of us and all our stuff. The thing gobbled gas, though.

This trip was so much better than the last one. As long as Mike is with me and willing to drive, I'd easily do it again. Soon. Maybe this summer? 

 {{This post, the PDFs, and all of the packing research that went into the education that informs this post, would not have been possible without bushels of cheerful, thoughtful help from Mary Beth. }}

He Sees You

There are days (and nights, lots of nights) when mothers feel as if they are toiling in obscurity. Who sees the things that require all our time and attention? Who hears us begging a baby to go to sleep because the clock is ticking into the wee hours of the morning and our sleep time before the other child awakes is becoming increasingly shorter? Who understands the inner-workings of our minds as we drive toward the school clinic in the middle of the day, all the while trying to figure out how we are going to complete the work left behind on the desk before its deadline? Who knows the thought process that went into planning, budgeting, shopping and cooking every meal on a family’s table, all while trying to pay tuition bills? More importantly, does anyone know or care who cleans the kitchen?

Motherhood is, by its very nature, isolating. Life twists and turns and challenges, and mothers meet the new day knowing one thing with certainty: There will be trials. Sometimes the trials are small and easily navigated. Sometimes they are brimming with disappointment and lonely anguish. Quiet and hidden, most mothers will endure at least a season of invisible suffering. 

That’s when we need to lean in and listen hard. That’s when God says, “I see you.” Just as He saw Hagar in the desert, sitting apart, too bereft to watch her son die of dehydration, He is watching, looking, noticing. And you can cast your eyes heavenward and say with confidence, as she did, “You are the God who sees me.” You can reach out in shy but powerful faith and touch His garment as did the woman in Luke 8, and He will know you are there. He will heal you. You might have thought you were all alone, but Jesus stops and notices.

He has heard every plea you’ve ever uttered. He has counted every hair on your head. But even more than that, He has seen every tear you’ve ever shed. He has heard every hurtful word ever said to you. And He’s heard every prayer you’ve ever prayed. He knows them and He treasures them and He will spend your lifetime and then eternity answering every one of them.

God sees you. He hears you. He knows you.

The biblical examples are ones of tormented women. Hagar was a mother who was suffering desperately. The woman in Luke had been bleeding profusely for years. Chances are, the challenges of our daily lives are not nearly so dire. Still, we want to be seen. We want to receive, from the Lover of our souls, the blessed gift of attention. 

And He wants to give it. The beautiful thing about knowing that God sees us? It makes it so that we are more inclined to seek Him. 

When we awaken in the morning, whether after a sleepless night with a fussy baby or a vigil beside a deathbed or even (miracle of miracles) a good night’s sleep, He sees us. And He is waiting. He wants to hold captive the first thoughts of our day. He wants us to find Him, to see Him, to know that His mercies are new every morning. 

Give God the first moments of your day. Awaken to the truth that He sees you and then open your eyes to the splendor that is Him. Before social media and that quick check of email, before morning news, even before a shower, check in with God. He’s waiting and watching. He sees you and He wants your attention. You’ve already got His.

Shout for Joy! {Summer of Psalms}

Happy Monday morning to you! Last week, I sent you Cari Donaldson's way for the first of the Summer of Psalms posts. This week, it's my turn. Kristin has reached out to bloggers hither and yon and asked if they'd like to choose a psalm to share, each of us taking a turn on Monday throughout the summer. So, you get to read us pondering the psalms. But, wait, there's more!

Every week, Kristin will offer her original artwork to take away, print, frame, turn into a screensaver--enjoy! This week's art is truly something I will treasure. By the way, as I frame this one, it occurs to me that I may have framed more of Kristin's art now than I framed Michael's. And I framed a good bit of Michael's. I can't wait to see what this one creates;-). 

So, here's some art for you to have. Print it. Frame it. Share it. The Summer of Psalms Project is an effort to brighten cyberspace and give glory to God this summer through the sharing of inspired art and heartfelt thoughts and prayers. you can follow along by checking in with Kristin for a list (and I'll remind you here) as we add to the collection throughout the summer. Every week, there will be new, free, and encouraging artwork. What will you do with it? Whatever you do, share. Take a picture of how the psalms are coming to life in your spaces this summer and share it using the hashtag #summerofpsalmsproject -- let everyone shout for joy with us! 

Download Printable PDF of Psalm 65 Art

Upon first reading, this is a harvest song, plain and simple. But a little digging around, and we can understand it as an Easter song. The early Christians sang this psalm at liturgies celebrating the Resurrection. It's a beautiful praise of God's handiwork and, to me, it's an overflowing from the abundance of a grateful heart.

Clearly, all manners of praise are due to God and yet,  as I contemplate the majesty and goodness of God, I have no words at first to express His overwhelming amazingness. Those prayers of praise will be uttered, but only after I my breath is taken away by the majesty of it all. When I first read this psalm, I thought about how closely tied my family's celebration of Easter is with our time in the bluebells every year. It just happens that way--we celebrate the Resurrection in the context of glorious, bursting Virginia springtime. And every year, I walk the path in to the creek's edge. Tiny white fairy spuds line the trail, little wisps of green on the tress give a hint of rich fullness that is still to come within the next few weeks. And then, just as we near the water's edge, wave after wave of delicate blue flowers cover the forest floor. And every year, I stand there, silent, and inhale in awed wonder. 

The God who attends so carefully to the tiniest detail, the faintest blush of pink on a flower that will be blue in its fullness, is the God who hears me when the words finally come. He reveals Himself, kind and merciful, ready to answer the prayers of the children of His creation who come to Him through His Son. Pretty heady stuff.

Against the backdrop of His stunning artistry, we are so aware of our sins, of the fact that we aren't even close to worthy. But God chooses us. He brings us into communion with Him and He reveals Himself to us in the great outdoors that is both the glorious canvas of His artistry and the provision of His hands. And beyond the here and now, He has even greater riches awaiting us in heaven. 

The God strong enough to uphold the mountains? He's got this. Whatever "this" is in my life or the lives of the people I love, He's got it. My world storms around me, and oceans roar in my ears in the middle of the night; He speaks calm. He silences the Tormenter. 

Photo credit: Karoline, who loves to run after and capture sunsets with me.

I have learned to be a collector of both sunrises and sunsets. I seek them out. I capture them with a camera. I go out of my way to find them. They call to me. It is impossible for me to look at a canvas in the sky in the morning or the evening and not know the Artist who painted it. So I keep looking. The gateway into daytime is a moment to ask for His strength and His grace and clarity of His purpose for me. The gateway of the evening is a time to give thanks and to entrust my cares to Him. 

So many gifts! So many reasons to go outside and shout for joy! And every good and perfect gift is from above. He did it all. These are the works of God. And that river overflowing? It is the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on world even today, so far removed the time of the psalmist and from the time of Christ. God is still with us. He's here, softening the edges with showers of grace.

As much as I see His glory in creation, how much can His glory be in me? Can it overflow? All those places in this great world where the beauty and majesty trumpet His glory and make me want to sing for joy? He considers me His greatest creation.

Think on that a moment. Me. You. We are the greatest works of His hands. And as much as that field of flowers makes my heart leap every spring, I  make His heart leap. 

For joy.

“Thanksgiving for Earth’s Bounty
To the leader. A Psalm of David. A Song.

1 Praise is due to you,
O God, in Zion;
and to you shall vows be performed,
2 O you who answer prayer!
To you all flesh shall come.
3 When deeds of iniquity overwhelm us,
you forgive our transgressions.
4 Happy are those whom you choose and bring near
to live in your courts.
We shall be satisfied with the goodness of your house,
your holy temple.
5 By awesome deeds you answer us with deliverance,
O God of our salvation;
you are the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas.
6 By your[a] strength you established the mountains;
you are girded with might.
7 You silence the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
the tumult of the peoples.
8 Those who live at earth’s farthest bounds are awed by your signs;
you make the gateways of the morning and the evening shout for joy.
9 You visit the earth and water it,
you greatly enrich it;
the river of God is full of water;
you provide the people with grain,
for so you have prepared it.
10 You water its furrows abundantly,
settling its ridges,
softening it with showers,
and blessing its growth.
11 You crown the year with your bounty;
your wagon tracks overflow with richness.
12 The pastures of the wilderness overflow,
the hills gird themselves with joy,
13 the meadows clothe themselves with flocks,
the valleys deck themselves with grain,
they shout and sing together for joy.”

— Psalm 65

raindrops on roses...

...and lavender and daylilies and dresses and hats!

My brain was tired this week. You know that feeling when you have a to-do list and time to do it, but you just can't make your mind start firing the way you want it to in order to accomplish things efficiently? Oh, that's just me? Well, whatever the case, I had a tired brain. 

I had several conversations both in person and virtually about All The Important Things.  And then PFFFT--nothing left. Sewing is such a good antidote to that.

Sewing occupies just enough brain space to keep me alert but not too much to let my brain relax a little. I made Sarah Annie a Popover Sundress and a matching bucket hat--perfect little projects to get the sewing mojo going. It's been a cool and rainy week, so pictures aren't the bright sunshiny ones I'd imagined. Still, she was thrilled with the outfit and she's very much looking forward to the return of the sun. You can't see the reverse of the bucket hat, but it's made of the same red pin dot as the yoke and ties on the sundress. 

This might be my favorite swing project ever. It wasn't the most challenging. It's not the most prayer-filled. 

But this one? Well, Sarah Annie was just so very excited about it. She said all the right "handmade" things:  

• I'm so thankful you took all that time to make it for me!
• I could never find something so special in a store.
• You're hand stitching it just for me, just like Lucy's
• You're going to make me one more dress that matches the hat, right? {Here we pause for a vote. I saw some Daysail locally. It would totally coordinate with the hat. Kristin talked sense into me at the moment, but I'm tempted to return to the store and indulge this child. Should I? I mean really; you can't script those things. Such appreciation! Then again, it's entirely possible she's playing me like a fiddle.}

I'm still readingThe Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap: a memoir of friendship, community, and the uncommon pleasure of a good book.  It sort of reminds me of when I read The Dirty Life: A ramshackle house, a relationship, tenacity, small town. This is a mature couple, though and it's all about the books and not farming. And, well, there are lots of differences. But the similar theme is one that intrigues me: is it really possible for a couple to jump off the well-traveled road, pursue a dream, and have it all turn out well? I don't think that's a question I will answer with experience. My life just isn't on that trajectory. Maybe it's the midlife place I find myself in, but lots of women around me are talking about how they've spent the first 20 years of adulthood. And it's a mixed bag. Some are deeply satisfied. Some express regret. Some are making drastic changes in marital status or hair color or place of residence or all three. At least one wants to jump off the path and start all over. 

That's where All The Important Things come in. Is it possible to craft a life that doesn't lose sight of All The Important Things? What are the important things? What are those things that are the firm foundation of life? The things that keep the sands from shifting drastically at midlife, the things that keep us from building a house on sand at all, or--frankly--the things that cause us to move to higher ground when we recognize it wasn't built well in the first place?

I remember sitting in a bagel shop in West Springfield in August of 1990 with my baby boy. My wig was itchy in the humidity and heat. A girl a couple years younger walked past me, her hair in high ponytail with a scrunchie around it. (1990 = scrunchies) I remember thinking, Lord, please let me live long enough to wear a sweatshirt in the autumn and pull my hair into a ponytail with a scrunchie. Since I had no hair at the time, I figure I was bargaining for at least two years.

That summer and well into the fall, I didn't hope for extraordinary things. I didn't beg for time to write the Great American Novel. I didn't ask to have a huge internet platform (that might be because we were a good six years form being online, but still). I didn't want a giant house. I didn't beg for travel opportunities.  I just wanted to live to raise my baby. I wanted evening to find me standing in my kitchen, making dinners for my husband. I wanted to live to harvest the basil and then to live even longer to eat pesto from my freezer. I wanted to plant roses beside an herb garden. When I was feeling particularly audacious, I begged for more children. 

Now, it's 25 years later. I'm wearing a pony tail and sweatshirt in June. It's evening. Mike will be home on a flight later tonight. Dinner will be waiting.  My ninth child has clipped a rose from our yard and put it in a vase beside the chair where I sit writing. Its smell is fresh and lovely and kind of a miracle to me. When I was sewing this afternoon, my second daughter made me a smoothie  with mint from our garden. Later this summer, there will be pesto. The baby who ate bagels with me that morning? He's grown and married and his baby and her mama helped plant those flowers.

It's so easy to get caught up in the clarion call to do something more, be something more, go somewhere else--anywhere else. It's easy to compare and despair. It's easy to panic at midlife and regret or worry--or worry that you will regret. I know how easy it is.

When my friend Elizabeth was alive, I had a daily reminder of how very fragile our grasp on the All The Important Things is. She'd email or text and her prayer requests were simple; sometimes impossible in this life, but simple. Some days, she wanted to be able to muster the energy to sit up on one elbow in bed and turn the pages of a picture book with her little boy. Other days, she wanted to knit a few rows on a sock before sleeping. All The Important Things were crystal clear for her. 

Crystal. Clear.

Hey. look! I just wrote about Elizabeth. I wondered where those words were. Perhaps there will be more.   

What are you reading or sewing or thinking this week?

P.S. One more thing! I nearly forgot? See the book in the picture? I'm not really reading it. It came unexpectedly yesterday. I wrote it!! And then someone translated it into Polish. And now it's published. How cool is that?  Here's the thing: they sent me two. And even though my maiden name had a whole bunch of consonants and very few vowels, I don't speak or read Polish. If you know someone who would appreciate my extra copy of Polish Small Steps, would you please let me know? 

Don't Blink

As I try to overcome some of the archive obstacles that happened with my blog move, I'm using Thursday to post favorites that might otherwise have gotten lost in the move. Below is a double throwback that three people asked me to help them find last week. But, this time, there's an afterword (so we're working in three time zones here). It was serendipitous that Katie took some pictures that made me think of the last time I re-posted this one. God had a plan back then, didn't he? All is well. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

I was hanging the lining of Sarah's carseat to dry after the barfing episode and Katie wandered into the laundry room. 

"So, I guess now that it's all clean and beautiful, you'll put it away until we have another baby? Sarah hates that carseat."

And the tears spring way too easily. I lean into the dryer even though there is nothing in there. I don't want her to see.

"No, we'll put it away until we find someone who needs it. My guess is that Mommy's too old to have another baby."

"That's ridiculous. We should adopt."

She skips away to discuss Haitian adoptions with Nicky, who would really rather adopt a boy his age than a baby.

I finish hanging the rest of the items from that offensive load; the Ergo is last to find a hanger. It smells so sweet now. We have at least one more season with my little one nestled against me in this carrier. I remember one of my favorite hugs ever, right around this time last year, when Sarah was asleep in the Ergo just after Paddy won the State Cup. She was sandwiched between us. Life was perfect that day: funny, interesting teenagers; utterly engaging middle kids; twirling, dancing toddlers; and a baby asleep on my chest. My dear husband utterly delirious to be in their company. One more season of the Ergo. I know that it is unlikely that I will give it away. It will end up in my hope chest with Michael's Peter Pan costume and Stephen's and Nicky's matching gecko shirts and Katie's crocheted bunny hat. All little pieces of fabric in the quilt of our lives.

Sarah's nearly 17 months old. She gets sick riding backwards. It's time to move on to a bigger carseat. What the heck? It's a carseat. Why do I care so much?

Because I know.

I've been here before. If I blink--if I dare to blink--the tears that fill my eyes will surely run down my face.

Remember this? 

Don't Blink

For the first time in a very long time, I am neither pregnant nor mothering a baby. My "baby" is now two years old. And with a certainty that takes my breath away, I suddenly understand why wise women always told me that the time would go so quickly. To be sure, I’ve had more "baby time" than most women. My first baby will be 16 in a few days. I still think it’s over much too soon.

This column is for mothers of infants and toddlers. I am going to attempt to do something I never thought I’d do: I’m going to empathize while not in your situation. My hope is that it is all so fresh in my memory that I can have both perspective and relevance.

What you are doing, what you are living, is very difficult. It is physically exhausting. It is emotionally and spiritually challenging. An infant is dependent on you for everything. It doesn’t get much more daunting: there is another human being who needs you for his very life. Your life is not your own at all. You must answer the call (the cry) of that baby, regardless of what you have planned. This is dying to self in a very pure sense of the phrase. And you want to be with him. You ache for him. When he is not with you, a certain sense of restlessness edges its way into your consciousness, and you are not at complete peace.

If you are so blessed that you have a toddler at the same time, you wrestle with your emotions. Your former baby seems so big and, as you settle to nurse your baby and enjoy some quiet gazing time, you try desperately to push away the feeling that the great, lumbering toddler barreling her way toward you is an intruder. Your gaze shifts to her eyes, and there you see the baby she was and still is, and you know that you are being stretched in ways you never could have imagined.

This all might be challenge enough if you could just hunker down in your own home and take care of your children for the next three years; but society requires that you go out — at least into the marketplace. So you juggle nap schedules and feeding schedules and snowsuits and carseats. Just an aside about carseats: I have literally had nightmares about installing carseats. These were not dreams that I had done it wrong or that there had been some tragedy. In my dreams I am simply exhausted, struggling with getting the thing latched into the seat of the car and then getting my baby latched into the carseat. I’m fairly certain anyone else who has ever had four of these mechanical challenges lined up in her van has had similar dreams. It’s the details that overwhelm you, drain you, distract you from the nobility of it all. The devil is in the details.

You will survive. And here is the promise: if you pray your way through this time, if you implore the Lord at every turn, if you ask Him to take this day and this time and help you to give Him something beautiful, you will grow in ways unimagined. And the day will come when no one is under two years old. You will — with no one on your lap — look at your children playing contentedly together without you. And you will sigh. Maybe, like me, you will feel your arms are uncomfortably empty, and you will pray that you can hold a baby just once more. Or maybe, you will sense that you are ready to pass with your children to the next stage. 

This is the place where nearly two decades of mothering babies grants me the indulgence of sharing what I would have done differently. I would have had far fewer obligations outside my home. Now, I see that there is plenty of time for those, and that it is much simpler to pursue outside interests without a baby at my breast. I wish I’d spent a little more time just sitting with that baby instead of trying to "do it all." 

I wish I’d quieted the voices telling me that my house had to look a certain way. I look around now and I recognize that those houses that have "that look" don’t have these children. Rarely are there a perfectly-kept house and a baby and a toddler under one roof. Don’t listen to the voices that tell you that it can be done. It should not be done. I wish I hadn’t spent 16 years apologizing for the mess. Just shoot for "good enough." Cling to lower standards and higher goals. 

I wish I’d taken more pictures, shot more video and kept better journals. I console myself with the knowledge that my children have these columns to read. They’ll know at least as much about their childhoods as you do. 

I wish I could have recognized that I would not be so tired forever, that I would not be standing in the shallow end of the pool every summer for the rest of my life, that I would not always have a baby in my bed (or my bath or my lap). If I could have seen how short this season is (even if mine was relatively long), I would have savored it all the more.

And I wish I had thanked Him more. I prayed so hard. I asked for help. But I didn’t thank Him nearly enough. I didn’t thank Him often enough for the sweet smell of a newborn, for the dimples around pudgy elbows and wrists, for the softening of my heart, for the stretching of my patience, for the paradoxical simplicity of it all. A baby is a pure, innocent, beautiful embodiment of love. And his mother has the distinct privilege, the unparalleled joy, of watching love grow. Don’t blink. You’ll miss it.

*~*~*~*~*

It is 2015. Yesterday, Katie captured these moments of another baby and a beautiful young woman whom I didn't yet know when I wrote the words above. She's wearing my granddaughter in my beloved Ergo.

I do remember how hard those young mothering days can be and I can empathize. These days, we've fallen into a rhythm of multi-generational friendship and support that I could never have even imagined. Grace upon grace. And this time, I'm thanking Him all the time.

Top of the grateful list: every once in awhile I still get a turn to wear the Ergo.