Story of a Mother

I've read this several times in the past. A friend emailed it to me this morning, and I found myself tearing up all over again. Of course, I tear up over anything these days :)

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moments hesitation. I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs. I want her to know that a caesarian scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Are You Kidding Me???

The lot next to ours has been empty since we've moved in. In fact, it's been an empty lot for two years while the rest of this phase of our subdivision has been built. From time to time, we'll see large tractor-type-thingies moving around dirt or hauling it to another site that the builder is working on. That's been going on the past few days. Yesterday we noticed that the gas & cable companies had been out to mark their territory. And just now, I've noticed that they have staked out the outline of a house.

Yes, it will be nice to see a pretty house instead of a dirt lot filled with piles of mud and riddled with weeds. But seriously? Are they really going to start construction NOW? I can imagine pulling in the driveway with our little guy, seeing bulldozers and hearing jackhammers! I should mention that baby brother's (and big brother's) bedrooms are on the far side of the house - right next to the lot. I'm glad we upgraded to a king bed this past month. We may have the whole brood in our room for the next few months!

AGGHHH!!

On a more upbeat note, I voted today. Our town, like a lot of voting districts, offers early elections. I figured I should do it now since I might have my hands full on election day. It felt good & patriotic, but with everything I hear on the news, it almost felt pointless! I don't think anyone would be surprised with how we lean politically, but I won't get into that because I've got close friends and family members on both sides of the aisle...and this is one heated, emotional election!

I wish I was one of those true patriots who could say, "I don't care how you vote. Just vote. Get out and exercise your rights!" But I can't say that with an honest heart. If you're not voting for my guy...don't vote. Forget to. That will be just fine with me :) (I'm somewhat kidding :)

One last random thought: I feel ready to head the hospital. The bags are packed. My hair is cut & highlighted. I had my teeth cleaned at the dentist last week. I miraculously reached my toes long enough to paint them. And, out of the blue, I decided to shave my legs yesterday. I'm contemplating picking up some waterproof mascara so that I can have my eyes on for those lovely post-pushing photos...but that's up in the air right now. Regardless, we've got the important things - film in the cameras, extra batteries, outfit for baby brother and a gift from baby brother for the big guy as a peace offering. Oh, and we finally decided on a name yesterday!

Finally!

Pumpkins, Cookies & One Big Belly

I can't believe I haven't posted anything in over a week. We've been busy! Last weekend we hit Curtis Orchard in Champaign for a little pumpkin patchin' and then met Troy's parents for a bit of tailgating before the U of I football game. My mom came on Sunday and stayed for a few days and, once again, spoiled the little guy rotten. The little guy and I made pumpkin shirts later in the week, which we're sporting in some of the pics. Not a ton for me to write about. I just thought I'd share some pics from the past week. Hope everyone is doing great!!

Uhmm....

So, I bought a pumpkin pie on Monday, and as of 10 am this morning, it is officially completely gone. I should add that neither Troy or the little guy cared for a piece.

This baby better come soon.

Our Son Harry

When I was a kid, I loved to dress up.

One Saturday morning when I was 6 or 7, I remember donning a fancy, hand-me-down dress complete with lace, tulle and little bells underneath it all. Was I a princess or a bride? No. I opened the curtains to our huge picture window and trotted around the living room, pretending to clean. My hope? I wanted anyone who drove past our rural Mt. Vernon home to think that we had a fancy maid. At the time, it didn't dawn on me that a)maids don't wear frilly, fancy dresses and b)this would be some type of major child labor law infraction.

I was involved in theater in high school and then carried on my love of dressing up to more intellectual situations, like float trips, mardi gras, girls nights out, or any other let-loose occasion. In fact, I still have a box in the basement complete with a blond afro wig, rainbow suspenders and at least a dozen hats.

We had assumed that our little guy would inherit Troy's interests - sports being on the top of the list. After all, he has the Frerichs' testosterone tradition to carry out. It never occurred to me that he might have a bit of my dramatic element as well.

That was, until this past Tuesday.

Our little guy doesn't have the usual two-year-old's taste in movies. Yes, he loves his Winnie the Pooh, Sesame Street and Curious George. However, he also loves Indiana Jones and Star Wars. We decided quite some time back that he would be "Harry Jones" for Halloween. This past Tuesday, the 4th installment of "Harry Jones" came out, so we ran to Best Buy to pick it up. While out, we stopped by Stride Rite to get some brown shoes, which would also be the finishing touch for his Harry Jones Halloween outfit. Then we officially declared that we would have a "Harry Jones & The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" DVD release party that evening.

After dinner, Troy got the DVD ready while I went with "Harry" up to his room to put on his complete outfit. After all, what better time to try on your Halloween costume than this?

And then a funny thing happened. As he walked down the stairs, he swaggered. As he showed daddy his new outfit, he developed a smirk. He strutted around the living room as the music began on the DVD, cracking his whip and occasionally stopping to give Troy and I "the Harry look".

We watched about half of the movie, and fast-forwarded through the other half filled with alien skulls, skeletons or rapid gun fire. Then there was a fight to get the pj's on. After all, what adventurer wears pj's?

This foreshadowing of a future actor has also been evident in how Hayden loves to watch himself on video. We've been going through old video tapes and making sure the camera is ready to roll for the big birth day. Last night while Troy and I watched our usual Thursday night shows, the little man insisted that he watch old home videos on the tiny screen of the video camera.

This is one thing he did not inherit from me. I've never liked to see myself on video, but he obviously holds no objection. Not once did I hear him comment that he didn't like the sound of his recorded voice or that his diaper made his butt look big.

Anyway, I know that he will most likely go the way of sports and other more "manly" pursuits - which is great. But I also love knowing that there is a part of him that loves to pretend and that is proud of every move he makes! I hope he always holds on to that, and I will do everything I can to see that he does.

And stay tuned for the complete "Harry Jones" look, coming Oct. 31st to a blog near you!

Silver & Gold

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold.

We used to sing that song in Girl Scouts - usually in a round. I thought it was cute, and my grade school frame-of-reference led me to believe that old friends were those whose parents were transferred to another town and had to leave our school, and new ones were the opposite. In my mind, the "new friends" were the gold, and the "old friends" - the ones no longer around - were the second-class silver.

I was talking with one of my oldest friends last week, and I should point out that she is not my "oldest" friend, but my friend for the longest amount of time. 25 years! I say that only because today is her birthday and I'd hate to accuse her of being elderly, although she is a month older than me.

Anyway, we got to talking about our friendship, and she mentioned that she couldn't remember a time that she had ever been really mad at me.

This made me laugh. Is she crazy? I would have been mad at me millions of times. After all, she had been with me through grade school, high school, a roommate in college and then through those still crazy times following college. All the way up to this day.

My mind raced through all of the stupid things I had done during our friendship. To be honest, I've had many moments of being insensitive, selfish, flaky...and even incoherent :)

How could she not remember a time when she had been mad?

The more I've thought about it, I've come to the realization that there were undoubtedly times when she was mad, or frustrated. But like family, true friends forgive & forget. That's most likely the reason I can't remember ever really being mad at her.

So to all of my old, true friends: I would just like to say thank you and tell you how very grateful I am for your friendship. Grateful that we've stuck together through good times and bad. Grateful that after all of these years, we are still friends and can pick up a conversation like we've only gone days without talking...even if it's been weeks or months. Grateful that our memories of the past go to those happy, silly times and not any unpleasant ones. Or maybe even more grateful that those tough times somehow made our friendships even stronger.

I'm meeting lots of new friends here in town, which is great. But at the risk of sound cheesy, I know now that these friends are my "silver" friends. You friends who I've had through thick and thin (literally :) are my "golden" friends and are truly cherished! I'm not sure what I'd do without ya.

So happy birthday, old pal. I love ya.

Holy Moly

I was reading my 36-week-update yesterday on babycenter.com, and there was one line that really stood out to me:

At the end of this week, your baby will be considered full-term.

Wow. It dawned on me that this baby is coming soon. If he comes in 6 days, he won't even be considered premature. He'll be a regular-sized bambino.

I suddenly realized that we are not nearly as ready as I had thought.

I found some baby registry checklists online to refresh my memory as to what we need, and realized that I have some shopping to do.

We currently have one pack of wipes. One pack? How long will that last - 8 hrs? And we have no diaper pail or even a trash can for diapers! I'm low on bibs and burp cloths, and the baby wash cloths that I have had for the past 3 years are as thin as Viva paper towels. And I only have one changing pad cover, which will ultimately be poop-covered within 24 hrs. Diaper rash cream? Might be a good thing to have.

And what about a nightgown for the hospital? I don't even own a nightgown, except for the hideous one I bought for Hayden's birth that was some type of mu mu/clown suite hybrid. It seriously needs to be replaced.

Then there are nursing supplies - nursing pads, lanolin, bottle nipples!

Booger sucker? Thought I had that covered, but as I was cleaning it out today with soapy, warm (anti-bacterial) water, it sprung a hole.

I can only find the receiving end of my monitor. I don't think that will do much good.

Infant Tylenol? Mylecon? When do you start giving babies these things? I can't remember!

Do they sleep on their stomachs or backs? I'm pretty sure it's backs, but it's been so long that I seriously need a refresher course.

I'm also designing the magazine for our Mom2Mom group at church. It's almost done, but it's not to the printer yet! And in addition, I've put an ad in the magazine for my somewhat imaginary at-home graphic design business. This means I've had to create a website and add a portfolio. It's not done either!

And I had planned to design our birth announcements. I hoped to have it all ready, except for the photo, of course. At this point, I have nothing. Not even a name!!!!

And then there's our little guy. I bought him a "baby brother doll" last week to help him prepare. Within 5 minutes, he had stripped it of its clothes, opened the sliding glass door, inserted baby brother's head, closed the door and left him hanging there with amusement and pride.

As I make a trip to Target today, please pray for me. Pray that I don't become overwhelmed by every "new & improved" safety product or "baby genius-maker" educational toy that I see. Pray that I don't fall into a ball of panic as I choose from ultra-sensitive, organic or moisturizing wipes.

Most of all, pray that my water doesn't break before I make it to the check-out line.

Happy 60th Birthday Dad!!

Happy 60th, dad! I hope you have a great birthday. Looking forward to celebrating the big day with you next weekend (a little late). Enjoy the get-together at Kari & Sean's. If I didn't have a hunch that this little guy was coming early, we'd make the trip. I'll keep my fingers crossed that you get that MiniCooper :) Love you- Kelli, Troy & Hayden

Our Little Iron Man

So what happens when you get your new winter coat and wear nothing but the removable sleeves? You turn into Iron Man, of course. After watching a few scenes of the movie with daddy the night before, the little guy pretended to be the superhero for an hour or so last night...flying around the living room with his "iron" sleeves and the removable hood over his face. I only wish I had the video camera ready to roll.

f r e a k

As my good pal Susan would put it ever so lovingly, I am a "freak". I worry too much sometimes. Not about pressing world issues or impending family crisis.

Nope.

I worry about ridiculous, somewhat-imaginary scenarios that might possibly come true. I always assume that I know what other people are thinking - or usually after the fact, what people thought.

This has become evident with my blog. (I still despise the word "blog", by the way. I feel like such a cyber-dork every time I use it)

I'll write something from the heart after a cup of coffee, while the little guy is watching "Winnie the Pooh" (affectionately called "Shampoo" lately for some reason) and I have a few minutes to steal away at the computer.

Then, hours or days later, I'll re-read it.

Was that too winy? Too happy? Too mushy? Too personal? Did it sound too down? To uppity? Too sugar-coated? Too Stewart-Smally-Wannabe?

So, for the record...I have decided today that I'm just going to write what I want to write - unfiltered and uncensored (as though anything I write is ever racy). If it comes out wrong, then I guess that's the chance I take. Blogs are kind of like emails, in that sense. IF YOU WRITE IN ALL CAPS, for example, you sound pissed...even though you might just be excited or have forgotten to take the caps lock off.

My hope is that our site keeps our family & friends connected, up-to-date...and every-so-often brings a smile to your face. That's my primary intention, although sometimes my posts turn into some type of therapy for me :)

And I'll keep working on my freakishness. I'm pretty sure it's ingrained in me, though. Something passed down in my DNA code from my mom and Grandma Cleo. Besides, it's been 9 months since my last glass of wine. That usually seems to help tone down the freak.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a fabulous weekend!!