Ruth Stoops

Lord, I can’t sleep.  Did I get too much rest the night before?  (Thank you Landon - 9 hour record.)  Am I still reeling from watching Grandpa die?  Surely viewing a death takes time to process.  Is it that I’m stressed about work?  Money?  Future?

Pretty sure it’s not because of too much sleep.

We come from nothing.  We leave with nothing.  Why, then, am I so preoccupied with having things nailed down here?  My very breath is not my own.  I cannot possibly hope to possess enough power or resources to provide for what’s to come.  ”Where are we going to get the money for this?  Or for that?  How will we make it?”  What constant, nagging, empty bullshit.  You have gilded this lily for today.  WHY is that not enough for me?!  My anxious, heavy soul longs to be set free.  To breath deeper.  To be present.  The Psalmist begs for you to rid him of his enemy - well, this is mine: a fretful heart.  Anchor me.  Remind this forgetful, silly girl of Who You Are.

You are…

Good

Aware

Enough

Creative

I don’t understand you, see you, get you.  But I believe.  I am convinced.  Your mercies are new every morning.  Even really, really early in the morning.

This year I witnessed a birth and a death.

My son’s first breath revitalized my hope in the world.  The newness of his frame refreshed us.  My eyes shed tears of gratefulness over the abundance of life.  It was the Beginning, and God was with us.

Grandpa’s last breath brought the gravity of death down hard on my shoulders.  The stillness of his frame shook us. My eyes shed tears of despair over the brevity of life. It was the End, and God was with us.

It is the Middle, and God is with us.

Sometimes when I look at Landon I almost start to cry.  He’s so beautiful.  So genuine and perfect that I get this ache in my gut.  I can’t tell if it’s pure love or the gravity of the fact that I am NOT qualified to be his mother.  He is worth so much, this precious boy, and I am so ill-equipped.  It’s like being called to carry the Ark of the Covenant, but I have no legs or arms.  I keep yelling to God, “I’M GOING TO DROP IT!  What were you thinking giving me this task?  You KNOW me!”  I am constantly tied up with the shit-mess that is my brain, and how can a child survive that?  A mother whose daily battle with darkness consumes so much energy that carrying up that last load of diapers seems such a monumental task that it can bring tears.

And then he looks at me and grins a mile wide.  He LOVES me.  He has no idea how small and wimpy I can be.  No sense of my fallibility.  I am the Milk-On-Wheels-Love-Machine-Lady, and somehow, by some great miracle of grace, I am enough for him.

My mother once told me, “You don’t have to have it all together.  You just have to stay one step ahead of him.”  Phew.  That means that when I act like an entitled, bratty 2-year-old, I’m still hitting the mark.  Keep up, Landon!  Mommy’s got a good year on you.

Today I realized a very important and liberating fact: I was not “born to be a mother”.  You know all those women that say that, right?  Maybe you are one of them.  “I was BORN to be a mother!”, they exclaim, all smiles as their children climb all over them.  I believe it’s true for some.  The constant, on-call, all-consuming job seems to enliven something in them.  It’s really quite astounding and beautiful.  But for some women, such as myself, it is not a life calling.  It is a wonderful, stressful, and well-loved part of who I am.  I am a mother.  But I was much better at being a student.  A musician.  A flirt.  THOSE things came naturally.  This hat doesn’t fit so easily on my head.  It’s a weird shape, and occasionally it cuts in right at the temples and gives me a headache.  And some days - get ready for it - I want to take it off.

Sometimes I tell Landon about it.  I say, “Can we just be friends today?  You are one of my favorite people, but this whole Mom gig is getting really old.” He replies by pulling down my shirt and repeatedly slamming his forehead on my collar-bone.  “MMMMMM!”  (He’s good at yelling with his mouth closed.)  “Ok,” I concede, “I’ll feed you one last time.  Then you have to find a new Mommy.”  I don’t think he has even gotten around to posting the job on craigslist.

It’s the best job for which I have ever been unqualified.  And I have a sense that God knows what He’s doing.  For one, He gave me one of the easiest babies I have ever seen.  If both of us were sour-pusses…..hooooo boy.  But no, God gifted me with a son who is as jovial as he is chubby.  And if He somehow manages to get us through the rough times, and Landon comes through childhood somewhat unscathed by my relentless depression, everyone everywhere will know that miracles happen.  ‘Cause when was the last time you saw a limbless woman carrying the Ark?

2 Corinthians 12:9

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

Landon LOVES his daddy.  Sure, he turns to me for food and comfort.  I am comfort food.  But Dad?  Dad inspires chubby leg kicks and silly grins.  Dad is exciting, funny, and strong.

Watching Layne grow into fatherhood has done just what I expected it would: made me crazier about him.  He’s patient when I’m frazzled, energetic when I’m spent, and steadfast when I’m soft.  His synthesis of strength and tenderness has always impressed me, but now it’s like a frickin’ aphrodisiac.  So glad he’s mine.

So glad he’s ours.

Curry.

Sweet Nepali tea.

Piles of shoes, barefeet inside.

Your home is my home.

Today we laughed and cried.

Mothers with missing children,

Our watery eyes see into each others souls.

Yet so much distance between us,

Much more than the bright yellow tablecloth.

I know you.

I think.

How often do I offend you?

Assumptions, so American.

Brassy, loud, uncareful.

This is my culture.

Did you know you have beautiful hands?

Dark, capable, worn, and busy.

“It’s easy“, you insist,

As you make culinary magic in this turmeric stained kitchen.

Food, love, hospitality.

They flow from your center.

I love you.

I know you love me.

We are family,

Birthed in different worlds.

Brought together by the Creative One.

Thank you for today, Didi.

My sister, my friend.

I tend to get a bit of writer’s block after a heavy blog post.  What do you say after you express deep pain?

“Here are pictures of me making baby food!”

“I don’t feel so sad today.  But now that I think of it, maybe I do…”

“Ooooo!  Today I got 16 boxes of free cereal with coupons!”

I suppose the answer is, yes.  Say these things.  This is life, and it bounces around from silly to messy to tragic to joy.  And that’s just one typical day around here.  I don’t always know what to do with myself, but I think if I wait until I figure it out, I might have some gray hair.

Which reminds me…  When I was a girl, I thought my hair would turn pink.  Why?  Because white paint and red paint make PINK paint.  Duh.

Also, Landon has a TOOTH!  It’s more like a razor blade, but still.  I’m so proud.  It’s like I think only manly babies make teeth or something.  And the delusions keep coming.

Well, looky there.  Writer’s block = Ended.

My heart misses you today, little one.

So many pregnancies,

Going as planned.

Healthy, happy babies,

Being born and growing.

Mine included.

But no number of perfect babies can fix our broken past.

YOU aren’t here.

I wish you had a name.

I long to say it,

To hear it spoken.

I just can’t give you one without knowing…

Boy or girl?

Who are you?

Loved, surely.

But how can one be loved

Without being known?

It haunts me.

Sometimes I forget about you.

My days are filled with your daddy

And your brother.

You are a quiet memory,

Fading in and out of our chaos.

But Mother’s Day is close.

Your due date, close.

Oh, it still hurts, baby…

I still ask why.

WHY?

God, sometimes I think I am overreacting.

“It happens all the time.”

“I couldn’t have Landon any other way.”

“People go through so much worse.”

Other times, the guilt and agony overtake me.

How can a mother not know her child?

What a disgrace, what a loss,

To mourn an unknown beloved.

I feel like such a fool,

Clutching the wind.

But you were REAL.

You were MINE.

You are gone.

And I’ll never be the same without you.

I have a happy baby.  It’s not a secret.  And while I try to pretend that if he is smiling, BEAMING, at you that it is because you are really special, you could honestly be a ceiling fan and get the same response.  He does that to his favorite people, toys, and blank walls.  He’s just so darn happy.

(Yes, that is spit-up all over his face.  Typical.)

That said, he has a very elusive Giggle.  Oh, sure, he’ll grunt and guffaw.  But the belly laugh, the squeal of delight,  The Giggle, has thus far been reserved for dad.  Layne has the special touch.  The man connection.  I have tried and tried to coax The Giggle out of him, but no luck.

Until this morning. (!)

Layne got up early with Landon while I caught a few extra Z’s.  When the time came for Layne to get going, I was totally and utterly unwilling to get out of bed, so Layne plopped him down next to me.  He played with his feet, exercised his lungs, and generally entertained himself for a good 15 minutes.  Finally, he got bored and started making the, “Mom - do something interesting” whines.  I pried my eyes open, and swung my hand onto his belly, hoping that a little Buddha-rub would quiet him down.  (What an excellent and energetic mother I am.)  Much to my surprise and delight, THE GIGGLE!  I wasn’t even trying!  Man, that was a great way to start my day.

I am tired and uninspired.  But, blog, I love you, so I will document this entirely uneventful, average, regular day.  Sunshine, groceries, blow-out poopy diaper, feeling overwhelmed, feeling underwhelmed, tickling chubby baby thighs, laundry, books, deep breaths, one more diaper.  Lovely.

I am in over my head.  I am a money-saving machine, and I am proud of it.  But my latest efforts in frugality have left me spinning.  My hope is that writing this all out will help me pop up for some much needed air.  I am being pulled in a bunch of directions, and I either need to figure out how to be more efficient, or something is going to give.

We do cloth diapers.  LOVE it.  It is satisfying to save so much money and to know that our family is reducing waste.  But Landon’s so big that we are needing to go to the third size up soon.  So, I did some research and found patterns to make my own.  That’s like a double-double money saver.  I have about half of the materials already.  Do I have time?  Ha.

I’m starting to make cloth wipes.  Easy.  Cut up some t-shirts, surge around the edges, make some wipe solution, Viola!  So far, I’ve cut up t-shirts.  : )

I’ve entered into the wild, wild world of “Couponing”.  It’s a culture, and there is a STEEP learning curve.  Not to mention the lingo that I have yet to learn.  But I’m encouraged - today I got 3 boxes of pasta and sauce for free, and used about $10 of coupons, saving 40% of the total bill.  Sounds perfect, right?  Well, after poring over dozens of deals that actually wouldn’t be deals - for things we don’t ever buy, or don’t want to buy (sorry, Pillsbury and Nestle) - I can see how this is going to change the way I shop.  Rather than buying what’s on my list for the week, I’ll need to make my list off of what deals are available.  That is going to take a lot of getting used to.  I’m going to stick with it and see if I can keep up.  The Krazy Coupon Lady’s site has been SUPER helpful in getting me started.

I am starting a vegetable garden.  I am desperately in love with the little, budding, hopeful plants.  Watching them stretch out of the soil is so satisfying and exciting.

Layne built me the table for the light - so handy!  I’ll pay him back with yummy salads.

I have committed to baking bread once a week.  Franz usually has pretty good deals on their HFCS and trans-fat free breads, but baking from scratch is just cheaper.  And it makes the whole house smell good.

I’ve taken the plunge into cooking Nepali food. It’s not saving a ton of money, since there is so much fresh produce involved, but MAN is it good!  After following Laxmi around in the kitchen, I’ve gathered a little clarity on what the ingredients are.  They don’t use measuring cups or recipes, though, so I feel a little out of my league.  However, meal #1 was surprisingly close to the mark.  YUM.

So my project list is pretty full.  And have I mentioned that I have a 4-month old?  Who is too cute for words and highly distracting?

I’m also still working about 10 hours per week for Global Neighborhood.  It’s great and fulfilling, and I couldn’t ask for a better job.

Whew.  I guess when your plate is this full, all you can do is dig in!  I hope I can somehow manage to balance with a little grace.