Not me, Monday! Episode 5.

Today was a pretty rough day. Good thing it was not me who fell asleep on the couch while my son watched Toy Story for the fifteenth time since Friday. I'm not the kind of mama who believes in TV as a babysitter. In fact, I'm not really the kind of mama who believes in TV at all. When I first graduated from college, I didn't have cable because I couldn't afford it. Shortly after Doug and I got married, we didn't have cable because I realized that the introduction of something as mind-numbing and distracting as cable*** would be the death of our otherwise happy marriage.

See, Daniel hasn't napped since Friday. I know that in some circles, that's beyond a trend and is a new pattern that I should just adjust to and move on with life. But I'm not the kind of mama who decides that something is here to stay until it's really. Here. To. Stay. During our last napless run, I decided it was time for Daniel to have quiet time in his room for 30 minutes while I had quiet time in my head for 30 minutes to avoid spontaneous combustion. It worked. He played rather quietly while I dozed in and out of conciousness and rested just long enough to re-energize and tackle the rest of the day. Yesterday, that "quiet time" was rudely interupted by a very ill-timed diaper mishap. Today? Well, I guess it wasn't me who decided that a movie and a snack would suffice for our quiet time. Nearly an hour after I turned on the movie, I woke up (quite confused as to what I was doing asleep. . . ) and realized that 1. my house was still standing, 2. I felt human again, 3. my child was still in one piece, and 4. I had missed a text inviting us to play our napless afternoon away. Three out of four isn't bad.

So today, it wasn't me who said, "Hang the rules and half of my belief system - I'm taking a nap." It wasn't me who woke up from said nap with a new outlook on life. It wasn't me who ate my words in peace and quiet. And it most certainly wasn't me who shared all of this with the blogging world, outing myself and my moment of weakness.


***I didn't always feel this way about cable. It was only after falling madly in love with a man who has severe ADD that I developed these feelings. However, the longer I live without TV, the more I despise it. That is all.***

On the baby monitor

When Doug and I registered for the video baby monitor, we got a lot of unsolicited feedback.

"You'll never use that thing!"

"WE didn't have those when YOU were kids and YOU turned out just fine!"

"That's a little over-the-top, don't you think?"

Well, the truth of the matter is that we do use that thing. We've used it for every bedtime and naptime since Daniel was born. We didn't take it to Corpus with us for our first family vacation and regretted it every night we were there. We did take it to Phoenix for Thanksgiving and praised God for it every night we were there.

I recognize fully that baby gear today is not what it was 30 years ago - or heck, even 5 years ago. I know we got by without convertible car seats, video monitors, and bottle warmers. I know we survived when our parents fed us peanut butter before 1 and shellfish before 2. I know that Daniel doesn't sleep any better because of it. But I do. When we went through cry-it-out (all 55 times), I could take a quick look and know that he was ok. When he started crawling out of his crib, I could flip a switch when I heard a thump to verify that it was indeed just his foot banging the wall. How many saved trips into his room have there been because I was able to look at him without disturbing him? How many nights have I been able to push a button and know that a feverish baby was sleeping soundly? How many times would I have barged into his room to check on him (and of course woken him up) had we not had the monitor? Countless, I tell you!

How many absolutely hysterical things have we heard our child say that we would have never known about without the monitor? Just tonight, he was lying in bed saying, "Mater says 'Ka-chang!' Chick says, 'Ka-choo-ga!'" That's hilarious! A few weeks ago, Daniel was singing "Row, row, row your boat" in his sweet, sleepy little Daniel voice. In the mornings, I don't bolt into his room the moment I hear him stir. I grab the monitor and watch him stretch, play with his dragon, and talk to himself about his breakfast before I bother getting out of bed myself. Some of these memories are the ones I cherish the most. And nothing - nothing - compares to coming home on Mama's Night Out and hearing Doug read Daniel a bedtime story and say a bedtime prayer. Nothing could even come close to the sense of pride and love I feel for Doug as the father of my child when I hear him earnestly pray with our son. Go ahead and call me terrible - he knows I'm listening.

The problem with the monitor is not that we'll never use it or that it's space-aged or that it's something completely unnecessary. The problem is turning it off. I see the off switch. I understand the concept of pushing it and going to sleep. But something just won't let me do it. I tried to the other night and couldn't stand it for more than an hour. We've been teased by family that we're going to sit around watching Daniel after he's gone to bed for 15 years and that it'll be a violation of his privacy. While I don't think that's true, I do believe it is time to turn the monitor off. I'm just not sure I can or that I truly know how.

Falling in love

Not too long after I met Doug, I knew (well. . . we both knew) that this was happily ever after. We were in love. Twitterpated, as Bambi might say. Head over heels stupid for each other. I fell in love with his smile, his voice, his vast and unusual vocabulary (go ahead and call me a geek now); I fell hard.

When you fall in love, there are a lot of things you don't think about when you daydream about your Prince Charming. You don't consider what life will be like when your sweetheart is sick. You don't think about how you'll spend holidays after you're married with children. Sure, you might have all of your future children named and all 12 minutes of your wedding down to a fine science, but I definitely wasn't thinking about my inlaws when I was busy falling in love with my husband.

The minute I met FIL, I knew we'd get along great. Doug had told me all of these horror stories about how terrified ex-girlfriends had been of FIL. Word? FIL and I hit it off in no time flat. When I met MIL, I wasn't quite sure what to think. She seemed. . . displeased. It wasn't until later (much later) that I learned she felt it was far too early after a bad break-up for Doug to be getting into a serious relationship. BIL is too easy to like. He's a mess, but he's charming and says all of the right things with the right tone of voice and can smooth over just about anything. SIL - BIL's then girlfriend and now wife - well, let's just say we had very backwards ideas about each other.

Over the last 8 years, I've grown to love FIL and BIL more and more. Easily. Smoothly. Without any reservations. In 2005, SIL and I really hit it off. We had each married a Carey brother and finally got to spend some time together alone in Phoenix. I finally figured her out and opened up to her. Later that year, her mom passed away. Seeing that we're both only children, I'm the only other woman in her family (aside from MIL) and the tragic passing of her mom lead to a much closer relationship between the two of us.

MIL, on the other hand (if you're reading this, just keep on reading. This is some rough stuff to write, but I'm gonna make it.), was a tough, tough cookie for me. The first few visits were rough. I was nervous. I felt like I had to live up to something and I had NO idea what that something might be. I walked on eggshells. I avoided starting any conversations at all and after I was verbally bludgeoned for my views on illegal immigration, I don't think I spoke more than one sentence at a time for at least 2 years. I honestly spent more time in the bathroom than was necessary. Not to avoid her, but to pray for strength to get through our visits. I felt like I was on some sort of trial. My home. My relationship with Doug. The meals I cooked. My career choice. It was no fun.

Now that I'm a mama, we suddenly click. I think somehow I realize that as hard as it is to stomach, I was on trial. Was I good enough for Doug? Would I be a good mother to her grandchildren? What did I want with her son anyway? Now that Doug and I have a baby together and she sees the love I pour out on Daniel, does she see me for who I really am? Was she worried we wouldn't work well together as parents? It doesn't really matter which of these questions apply (if any). I really think that it was my realization that I really was on trial that made our relationship mesh. It took a long time for me to come to grips with the idea that she has every right to put me on trial (as a good mother to her son), but now that I get that, I'm much less edgy and a lot less defensive about . . . well. . . everything.

It's truly a miracle that we fall in love with one person deeply enough to vow to be committed to him for the rest of our lives. To fall in love with the entire family? That's something beyond miraculous. That's something extra-planetary. Thank God for minuscule odds.