Explaining Heaven

God and Heaven and Jesus are heavy topics to discuss with a three-year-old. We've been reading Daniel's Bible almost nightly since he was about 4 months old. We've read it through several times. We pray every night at bedtime. We go to church as often as we can. I try really, really hard to make Christianity a part of our every day lives -in my words, my actions, and my reactions. I'm not always successful, but I try. Sometimes, I think I might be succeeding.

On Easter, we went to my parents' house to swim. We were splashing around in the pool, talking about much of nothing. My dad asked Daniel about Easter. "Why do we celebrate Easter?" Daniel looked at him funny (we still struggle with the concept of celebration). I rephrased it for him, "Daniel? What did Jesus do on Easter?" Without a breath's hesitation, he looked at my dad and said, "He took away all my sins. All the bad things." Tears sprung to my eyes. I can only imagine how God felt to hear such sweet words.

A few weeks ago, Daniel and I had the following conversation:

Daniel: Where is Daddy?
Me: Daddy's at work.

Daniel: Where is YOUR daddy?
Me: Buddy? Buddy's asleep.

Daniel: Where is HIS daddy?
Me: He's in Heaven.

Daniel: Is he God?
Me: No, sweetie. He's with God.

Daniel: Is he Jesus?

Me: Nope, but he's with Jesus, too.

Daniel (extended thoughtful pause): So is he Goliath? Or is he Moses?

Conversations like these will stick with me for the rest of my life. I, of course, went on to explain that there are more people in Heaven than just God, Jesus, Goliath (who, if I remember the Philistines correctly, probably is NOT in Heaven), and Moses. When he asks things like this, I know he's listening, even if he doesn't quite get it.

My favorite Heaven discussion to date happened just this Thursday. We were driving to the Y for a quick workout when Daniel piped up from a rare, pensive silence in the back seat. "How do you get to Heaven?" See, we've talked lots about how to get to where our family members are. You take a plane to Phoenix or to Qatar (Nana and PopPop, respectively), you drive to Buddy and Gram's, you drive aaaaaaaaall day to get to Denton (Uncle Jon and Aunt Kristin), you drive part of the day to get to Giddings (Granny and PopPop), etc., etc., etc. I guess he just wondered how to get to God. I launched into a pretty moderate explanation about Salvation. You have to tell God thank you for Jesus and thank you for taking away my sins (I'm still too chicken to explain death. . . ). You have to tell God that you love Him and you want Him to be with you always. I started to add a few other details, but noting the look on Daniel's face, I stopped. "Daniel? Is everything ok?" Daniel responded in a very non-Daniel small voice, "I want Him to hold me. I want Him to hug me." The only words that would come were, "Me, too, baby. Me, too."

Later that day, Daniel, Lia, and I curled up in Brother's bed for a nap. We all snoozed for awhile, but I woke up long before the kids did. As I lay there between my babies, it occurred to me that I was probably as close to hugging God as I would ever come on this planet. Hearing them breathe. Smelling Lia's newborn smell and Daniel's I'm-three-and-I-play-hard-outside-all-day smell lingering together (call me crazy, but with a better name, Scentsy might could make some money on that one). Feeling their tiny, warm bodies curled up against mine. I couldn't help but think that this was God's way of hugging me before my time. I closed my eyes and took in the sensation. And I thanked God for hugging me, for making it possible for me to even consider such a thing.

The destiny of hairy balls

Yes, you read that right. Keep reading. If I do a good enough job of telling this story, your abs and your sides will ache.

A few days ago, I was bathing Daniel. He's suddenly become very interested in all things below the belt. Normal, of course, but I'm just not quite ready to have some of these talks. The boy is just three. Anywho, I'm bathing Daniel and he asks, "What do my balls do?" I was taken a little off guard, and like I said, I'm not ready to have that conversation yet. So I said, "Nothing. Yet. But when you grow up, they'll do something." In an effort to keep things simple, I tend to give him the shortest, most innocuous answer possible. Of course that usually leads to more questions, but I don't want to back myself into a corner if he's not ready to have "that" talk. Much to my dismay, he pressed on. "What will they do when I grow up?" Still unwilling to have that talk, I balked and dodged and spit out the only thing that came to mind. "They'll get hairy." He left it at that.

This morning, we were watching Kung Fu Panda. Po said something about the Sword of Destiny. Daniel did was Daniel does. "What's 'destiny?'" At that exact moment, Lia pooped and Doug came into the living room. I offered Doug the choice - change the diaper or explain "destiny." He chose destiny. So off I go, wipes in hand, to change Lia. "Well, Daniel. Destiny is easy. When you grow up, it's what you were meant to do." I was impressed. Simple explanation for a very abstract idea. Daniel completely blew it out of the water. "Daddy? Do you have balls?" I swallowed a laugh and almost gave myself a hernia in the process. Doug stammered for a moment, entirely dumbfounded, but came clean with, "Yes, Daniel. I have balls." I was hoping to God Daniel would leave it at that, but he went there. "Are your balls hairy?" At this particular point, I nearly died. I know you aren't supposed to laugh when they say things like that, but I just couldn't help it. I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And poor Doug. All he could come up with was, "Let's talk about something else."

Because I'm with the child all day every day, I got it. I completely understood the leap from "destiny" to "hairy balls." No one else on the planet could have possibly seen the connection, but clearly, Daniel associates "growing up" with "hairy balls." I can see the shock and horror on his kindergarten teacher's face now. "So, class. What do you think you'll do when you grow up?" Daniel will shoot his hand into the air and wait patiently to be called on. When it's his turn, he'll matter-of-fact say, "I'm going to have hairy balls." We will spend our afternoon being shuffled back and forth between the counselor's office and the principal's office and I'll be labeled as a terrible mother.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm doing a decent job of explaining the "hard things." I've avoided death like the plague. We have several family members in same-sex relationships. I've tried my darnedest to explain why sometimes we have aunts and uncles and sometimes we have aunts and aunts. I'm not sure whether my explanations are sufficient or just plain confusing. I wonder if I'm setting him up to be tolerant or judgmental. Sometimes I wonder if he's listening to anything I'm saying. This morning he answered that question. He's listening. And even though he might not "get it," he's putting it all together.

A messy day

When Seth Rogan gets around to making Knocked Up II: The first years, I have two scenes written for him. Warning: The main topic of this post is "poop." Those who have not yet had children may want to avoid reading any further.

It was a lovely Friday morning. The kids actually slept past 7:00 and we had plans to see old friends for lunch. I made my way into the kitchen to get breakfast going. Lia was kicked back in the nap nanny, Daniel was arguing with me about how many blackberries he was going to eat, and i was *just* about to pour my coffee. I looked over at Lia and noticed a yellowish line growing around her midsection. Yup. Poop. I'd been waiting on it for three days and I knew we were due, but man. I carted her off to her room to clean her up and quickly decided that wipes were no match for this load. I got her as clean as I thought she needed to be prior to a bath and headed back to the kitchen sink. En route, I got hosed. Big time. Here we are, not even 7:30, and we've both had a complete wardrobe change AND a bath. What a start to the day.

The rest of the day went well. I ventured out to the old office to catch up with my former coworkers. We chatted it up and Lia graciously filled another diaper for me. This one was not catastrophic and was easily changed in the back of the car before we headed home. Once we got to Buddy's house, little miss was hungry again. As soon as I finished feeding her, she started rumbling again. As I was sitting in my mom's La-Z-Boy, I jumped up in a hurry to avoid any permanent damage. As I did so, Mount Saint Lia erupted. Big time.

Thank God my parents have tile floors. Too bad dogs don't come with a standard tile option. My parents' cairn terrier darted past me as Lia let loose. You guessed it. Darby was covered in baby poop. She ran through a puddle of it, thrashing about wildly. She was all but chasing her tail in a fruitless effort to figure out WHAT was on her back. She was ushered out the back door while we attempted to get the mess under control. My dad was busy cleaning up the floors, I was busy bathing Lia (and trying unsuccessfully to avoid yet another full wardrobe change), Darby was busy scratching at the back door, and Daniel was running around in circles screaming about the non-existent poop on his hands. By the time everybody was bathed, changed, and poop-free, I was laughing hysterically. I could absolutely see Kathrine Heigl and Seth Rogan playing me and my dad. I could totally hear the soundtrack playing in the background. Given a little more time to actually script the scene, I'm willing to bet that somebody in Hollywood would pay money for such a script. For now, it's just a typical afternoon in the life of a mama.

In the middle of the night

There are many things that take place in the middle of the night. Most people snore (or drool). A few are obsessed with QVC and HSN. I hear there are those who dread the night - who battle demons while the rest of us. . . well. . . rest. Me? I experience some of the sweetest, most intimate moments I will ever have.

When Daniel was a baby, we were alone together *all* the time. Doug worked 6-4 (plus an hour commute each way), went to school at night, and did homework on the weekends. Even when he was home, I still had hours upon hours to spend with Daniel. Now that Lia has arrived, the time she and I get to spend alone together is limited and precious. I have to make the most of it, regardless of how tired I am, how late it is, or how badly I want to crawl back into bed. During the day, Daniel is vying for my attention, the phone is ringing, the dogs barking. . . there just aren't many moments of peace.

Except for those moments that take place sometime between 2 and 4 in the morning. I know it's crazy, but I really look forward to seeing Lia in the middle of the night. We can just snuggle up next to one another and exist. No noise. No distractions. Just me and Lia. Mother's Day Out is over for the summer and now that Lia's sleeping for longer and longer stretches, I know I'll get those moments less and less often. Not that I mind the extra sleep, mind you. I just envy the time I had with Daniel and I long to find that time somewhere with Lia. If 2-4 a.m. is what I get, it's what I'll take. And I'll do so gladly.

firsts

The last two weeks have brought us many firsts. Lia's first bath (which she mostly slept through), Lia's first trip to Froberg's (which she slept through), our first time eating out with two kids (which led to), my first time nursing in public, and Lia's first photo shoot (which I'm still anxiously awaiting the results!).

In addition to all of Lia's firsts, daniel also snuck one in on us. He actually napped somewhere that wasn't home. We managed to get a nap in at Buddy and Gram's, which led to wonderful moods all around. Hooray for my big boy becoming more of a big boy!

birth day

3/18/11

6:15 am
Doug and I arrived at the hospital with strawberry birthday cake, a bag full of essentials for a weekend holiday at St. John Hospital, and a stomach full of knots. Well, my stomach was in knots; Doug's was full of coffee. A group of nurses greeted us as we shuffled in the Center for New Life. They showed us to 214 and I quickly became the talk of the second floor. Not only had I brought birthday cake (clearly something none of them had seen before), but I also walked through the door demanding to know what I had to do to go home. Clearly, another first.

Veronica and Elizabeth got me all hooked up to the monitors, started my IV, and did all of the routine check-in things. Dr. Abair had one last look at Lia to make sure her head was still up. Then I met Dennis. Dennis was my anesthesiologist who definitely missed his calling as a comedian. So. Funny. He had me laughing the entire time. Well, except for when he was wiping my tears, but that part comes later.

By this point, I was a complete bundle of nerves. I could still hear Lia's heart on the monitor, but I still had a million things on my mind that could or might go wrong. My legs were shaking. My stomach was in knots. My mind was racing a trillion miles a minute.

8:20
My c-section was scheduled for 8:15. By 8:20, they were rolling me down the hall to the OR. I've only ever seen ORs on Grey's, Chicago Hope, ER, and at the Debakey Center. For those of you who have been in other ORs, imagine my shock at what a "real" OR looks like. Tiny. No fancy observation deck. No separate scrub room for all of the drama to happen. And man. That table was skinny! It was a darn good thing I only gained 25 pounds or i may have rolled right off!

Enter Dennis. Again. He got my drugs started and they got me situated on the table. Dennis started making inappropriate jokes and I laughed nervous (but genuine) laughter. Up went the drape and the show started.

At this point, I kind of started to freak out (but only in my head). I'd been warned by a few people that the anesthesia might make me feel . . . odd. indeed. I managed to get through the Lord's Prayer a few times while breathing as deeply as I could, which took the edge off.

I told Dennis, "Dennis? I know this sounds stupid - because I can't see them or feel them - but I don't really like the angle my legs are laying." Dennis peered over the drape, looked at me upside-down, and said, "Your legs? They're perfectly straight." I felt silly for having said anything, but Dennis just chuckled.

8:54
Official start time - 8:54. A dear friend had warned me about "the smell" in the OR. She said it would smell like "my insides." The minute they "cut," I realized what the smell was - burning skin. So much for a scalpel; these people use lasers! I'm assuming that's why my scar is so precise (and tiny). I'm not sure that my dear friend realizes that she wasn't smelling her guts, but I am thankful for the warning!

About that time, somebody mentioned that somebody should go get daddy. Thank God. Dennis - in his infinite inappropriate humor - suggested that one of the nurses go pry him away from the three blondes in the hall. Ha. Ha ha.

As soon as Doug came in, my nerves settled immediately. I think he was probably as nervous as I was (and just as freaked out by seeing me on that table), but the ever-cool facade brought me down a few notches. We bantered back and forth about Heaven knows what and I think I reminded him to take a picture of the clock at least a dozen times.

Dennis nudged Doug and told him to get his camera ready. He fumbled around for just a second and assumed the photography position. "Get ready!" Dennis chanted. My poor, sweet, dear husband... He was poised and ready to get "the shot" of Dr. Abair holding Lia over the drape. Something Dennis said triggered him early and he wound up missing that shot and somehow managed to snap a stellar photo of Dr. Abair suctioning Lia's mouth while holding her a mere hair's breadth above my fileted abdomen. Score one for daddy!

When Daniel was born, my mother accidentally took a photo of the placenta. We've teased her mercilessly for the last 2.75 years over this. No more! Nothing quite tops a picture of your guts...

9:02

As predicted, I heard Lia'a cries and lost it. Not nearly as bad as I thought I would, but I cried and cried. "Thank God; thank you, God," must have come out of my mouth a hundred times. Doug was pretty much immediately whisked over to Lia while they continued to work on me. "She's got your ears!" Doug proudly announced from the other side of the OR. "My ears?? That's all I get are the ears?"

Dennis kindly wiped my tears away (as my arms were strapped down) and somehow managed to wrestle Lia away from the nurses. He unwrapped my arms and gently laid Lia on my chest. The waterworks continued and Dennis took the first photo of Lia and her proud parents.

10:00

By 10 a.m., they were rolling me back down the hall to my room, just as Dr. Abair had promised. Dennis made some crack about having just gone through bypass surgery. We laughed again and I thanked him sincerely as he left me to recover with my nurses. I beat my entire family back to the room. By the time they got back with Lia, all that was left was positive, loving, happy beyond belief emotions. All the anxiety was gone. My fears totally unnecessary. My perfect little family complete.

That's the story of Lia's entrance into the world. If only the next year would go just as smoothly... We are blessed beyond measure and so thankful for Lia and those who helped get her here.

Our little angel.

commitment

I have (shockingly) decided to start my own business - selling Mary Kay. The what, why, who, how, and when of that story will come another day. For now, this is my commitment to myself and to my family:

- The first $50 I make will go back into the checking account to cover the cost of starting up.
- Of every check I receive after that first $50, 10% will go directly to God.
- Until our savings account reaches our family goal, the remaining 90% will go back into savings.
- Once our savings account has been restored, the additional 90% will go toward our debt (our truck note and personal loan).
- Unless there are dire circumstances, no further debt will be incurred until said debts are paid off.

This is my commitment. If I break my word to myself, that's pretty pitiful indeed.

Here goes nothin'.