Gotta Have Faith

On Monday night Bryan and I attended Baptism class at St. James. We chose this church with the hope that its proximity to our house would encourage our attendance, which we learned, is tracked through an envelope system. Not much has changed since I last attended a religion class. Our instructor was the classic CCD teacher. Wearing a lumpy winter white sweater, adorned with a religious pin above her heart, and a beneficent smile that surely could be cracked by a classroom full of rammy confirmation students, she handed out some typed and possibly mimeographed information about the baptism process. She also handed out a colorful brochure while going over the agenda for the class, which would conclude with a video. I turned more optimistic due to the graphics on the brochure and the fact that she used the word “video” rather than “film strip.” I chose a table for us front and center so that I would be forced to pay attention, but right before we began a girl we went to college with walked in. We waved her over to sit with us, so all I really wanted to do was chat with her rather than listen to the lesson. So really, not much has changed about me since my last religion class.

The teacher began with a metaphor (my favorite!) about baptism, saying that there is a difference between a stop sign and a brick wall. I naturally finished the metaphor in my head before she finished her explanation, seeing the baptism as the stop sign, a moment to give pause and reflect on your faith and the brick wall as not having faith at all. Once I came up from my literary head I heard our instructor say, “So baptism is that brick wall. You can chose to go through a stop sign, but you can’t go through a brick wall. That’s it, you’re done.” Hmm.

I became awash with religious memories. My grandmother pinching my sister’s lip with a sewing needle for talking during the televised mass one inclement Sunday comes to mind. So does Sister Mary Grace condemning all those who tuned in to “An Officer and a Gentleman,” on HBO the preceding weekend before CCD class as sinners. I did not need to hear my mom gossiping breathlessly about the film on the phone to a friend to know that she was probably a sinner. That’s the way I like her.

Nori and Charlie will be baptized. Somehow they will navigate the terrain between faith and fundamentalism to be good people. I have faith in that for sure. In the meantime, we say our prayers each day. Yesterday’s was, “teach me faith and caring, teach me wisdom, teach me sharing. Raise me up and make me strong. Be with me the whole day long.” Hopefully, with God and me beside Nori all day long, she will get that whole sharing thing.

January 12, 2009

Some days I feel so comfortable in this new skin. It’s like a favorite sweatshirt or a great pair of boots. But, some days, I feel like I am wearing someone else’s clothes. They fit, but I am acutely aware that they are not really mine. After a while though, too long borrowed clothes become part of my wardrobe and I cannot remember that they were once borrowed at all. Perhaps we are almost there.

I am getting used to the attention we get out in public but some days I am not ready for it. Strangers, like paparazzi, fire questions like camera flashes. I have to gear up for it as we exit the car, ready to do a press conference on my beautiful babies at a moments notice. They smile reassuringly from their car seats, allowing me to represent them the best that I can.
Almost one year ago I began my official bed rest. One month from now, one year ago, the babies were born. It feels like a hundred years ago or maybe just one day ago. I look back on it and search for meaning, more lessons. “Hope is the thing with wings that perches in the soul.” For some reason that quote has been rattling around my head for the past few days. I think back to a year ago and revise it as “Hope is the thing to cling to when all else has flown away.” Without it I would have blown apart. And it was more than a hope that everything would be okay, because I knew that some things would never be okay. It was/is more of a hope that it would not all be in vain. One smile from my superstars and I know that it is not.

Snap Shots and Snarkiness

So on day two of the photo shoot at The Picture People, we were told that our pictures would be ready in 15 minutes. 15 minutes turned into 2 hours. Such delays bring out the worst in us. In our impatience, we found ways to entertain each other and ourselves. After feeding and changing the babies, who are freak magnets by the way, in the store (we were so over the vinyl couches in front of Sears), watching Ryan talk to a picture of a kid he just met, cleaning Charlie’s spit-up puddle off the floor and watching Eric clean up his Big Gulp puddle off the floor, we turned to people watching. We admired the coordinating outfits of other families and the sparkly dresses of a few little girls-all with the purist of intentions and holiday well wishes. However, as our wait grew, so did our innate snarkiness. That’s when the taxidermist walked in; Dad and son in camouflage holding a deer head. Bryan found it so amazing that he photographed them surreptitiously with his cell phone, which is weird since we would pass Ted’s Taxidermy on the way to his family home, you think these things would not phase him. He’s is so urban now. I thought Camo Dad was on to 007 Bryan Bond and felt that we were priming for a fight. However, I mistook Camo Dad’s stare into space as a stare of discovery. Confrontation averted.

Strike a Pose

Everyday before the afternoon nap I read from a book that Liz gave Nori and Charlie called Give Me Grace. As I just wrote the book title, I am reminded that I have written about the book before and perhaps that the book was more for me than it was for Nori and Charlie. It is a book of daily prayers but they are more meditative than bible banging. Today’s prayer asks to “give me gladness, give me grace.” Some days I do have to ask for it, but today I just have it. Those are the best days.

I did not have much grace last weekend at The Picture People, at least not on the first day. On Saturday morning we propped up Nori and Charlie along with Tyler, and Ryan in dozens of poses-individual, together, the cousins, Tyler with his mom and dad-all the while suffering near the malodorous photographer. (It is a miracle that Ryan did not point out her offensive smell.) It was only a 45 minute photo shoot but in baby time that can seem like days-mostly because I was holding my breath (helpful skill near the photographer) in an effort to somehow hold off any crying or bowel movements. Afterwards, Bryan and I made a quick exit to feed the babies in the mall. I feel like every time we have to feed them somewhere besides home we are brought right back to that rest stop in Jacksonville. It’s like one step out from our routine and we lose all of our baby management skills. So, while we tried to feed the babies in the “lounge” area in front of Sears (maybe it was the vinyl that brought me back to Jacksonville) Amanda came over to let us know that we had no pictures. I think I blanked out while she explained the cause but I recall the words corrupted file, no memory card, or odor contamination. After we got over the disbelief, we sent Bryan in to negotiate our compensation-those skills, luckily, were still in tact. We were scheduled for Sunday morning at 9:40 am with their best photographer. We just hoped that she showered.

Sunday morning came and we tried to face it with a new attitude. Our photographer smelt a little like the Marlboro man but is was a big improvement from the day before. We felt like she took fewer shots but we were just hoping for one good one. Three hours and too much money later-we walked out with our baby glamour shots. Something about those smiles in those glossy pics made all the irritation melt away. Grace, indeed.

Fall 2008

Autumn is definitely my favorite time of year. This autumn, however, was like no other, filled with opportunities to unabashedly smile all day long. Pumpkin picking kicked off the season and was followed by Thompson Park Day and Halloween. Thompson Park Day is probably more appropriate for bigger kids, but I was still tempted to get the babies' faces painted. The weather made our time there short, but it was still great.

I attended the Red Bank Halloween Parade for the first time this year. I had no idea that this huge event takes place a block from my house every year-probably because it occurs the Sunday of my birthday weekend- a day that was usually used for recovery. I coaxed Amanda, Eric and Tyler to walk in the parade while Lisette, Sean and Aidan joined as well. I was a little over zealous as a new mom and decorated my stroller as a garden to transport the little caterpillar and flower. I was maybe a little too disappointed to see that we did not get photographed for the local paper. However, the stroller came in handy for trick-or-treating with Mike, Beth and Ryan.

We also got to visit school this month, stopping in to see the students and teachers working on homecoming decorations. We tried to make it to the game but the weather, yet again, thwarted our plans.

Straddling my stay-at-home-mom life with my old life does make me feel a little schizophrenic at times, but I learn new things about myself every time I do something new or something new with babies. I still feel like a tourist in my own life-as if this is all something temporary-which it is, really, because the babies are always changing things up on me-but I still feel like I am trying to find that place of comfort, of home. Walking down Broad street with my crazy stroller, holding Bryan's hand definitely had that feeling, but making trick or treat bags at AC Moore with the MOM's group I joined had me feeling that somebody should surely check my passport.

** I started writing this post on Oct 21 and just finished it now. How sad is that!

Perspective

My Favorite Day