Church Saga: In three parts.

Hour 1.

Since Evan was born I’ve very quickly realized we’re in the just trying to be faithful category and less of the learning and retention category.

1pm church is not for the weak. 

We prepare like we’re about to play the Super Bowl. We know he isn’t going to get an afternoon nap. So we push off his morning nap as long as possible so maybe he could just have one big nap? Right. The diaper bag is loaded and could feed a third world country. 

Snacks. Toys. Diapers. Bottles. The whole shebang. 

But we know. We know no amount of preparation is going to stop it from being a brawl for three hours. 

Harmless, right? What could one little person pull off?

It really is like trying to hold a tornado. No matter what direction you’re holding him, he wants to look the other direction. He scored perfect 10s in arched back, dive bombing today. 

I tweeted this as we were walking into church today. 

Do you ever look at your baby as your walking into church and see the fire in their eyes? Me too. He has an agenda. I know it.

I knew he was going to take this round. 

As we were sitting in the metal chairs we let Evan crawl around on the floor. It starts with him poking his head through the hole in the seat in front of us. No matter how many times he does this, he is always shocked when his big melon head gets stuck. 

Then someone walks out. 

Evan’s head whips around like a hawk and sees his target. He takes off full crawling sprint to the outside. Thankfully he’s not strong enough to push open the door. Despite pulling himself up and slapping it. So he’s back to crawling and realizes he’s hit the open field and takes off for the back of the gym. 

Oh yeah, this is while they’re passing the sacrament so it’s superrr quiet. So I climb over Scott in heels and swoop in and pick up Evan and walk to the back of the gym. After Evan has made it really clear he will not be held I put him down like an idiot. Within five seconds he eats it and hits his head on the floor loudly and lets out a huge scream. So I scoop him up and bolt for the door. Just trying to get out. 

Only I threw the door open and hit an old man like a linebacker. 

So immediately I start apologizing, but Evan’s screaming and we gotta go. (Thankfully he said it hit his hand and he was just fine. Oops.) 

We settle down and after the sacrament is over we head back in. We play for a few minutes and Scott takes Evan out to change his diaper. 

We’ve made it 37 minutes. 

They came back in and we start to relax. We’re playing toys, we’re having a snack, it’s okay. 

10 minutes to go and we are in total meltdown mode. I have unstuck Evan from the chair in front of us for the 957th time and we’re in trouble. Scott frantically starts to make the bottle while I hold Evan and bounce him. I grab the bottle and a burp cloth and my phone in case I need to text Scott. Leaving the sacred diaper bag of truth and light. 

We make it to the Mother’s Lounge and have the room to ourselves. He drinks about 4oz and decides it’s time to explore. So I let him and just sit for a minute. There’s a full length mirror in there and he pulls himself up so he can slap it and talk to himself. His favorite. Totally normal. 

Until he projectile vomits all over the mirror, himself, and the floor. But the diaper bag is in the chapel and I’m not going back for it and leaving this mess. Cleaned it all up with paper towels and by then he starts making his pooping sounds. I figure he’s pooped and by then Sacrament is over so I go back to meet Scott and get the diaper bag. I change him (no poop! It was a fakeout!) and Scott heads to his meeting. 

Hour 2.

Being the FAITHFUL MOTHER I AM. I attempt Sunday School. I sit down next to my friend who offers to scoot down a chair in case we needed more space. 

“It’s really okay, I give us 30 seconds before we have to leave. We’re just trying to be faithful, not really here for retention.” 

We made it five minutes. 

Out in the hall with another head bonk. 

Evan’s favorite thing right now is to hold my hands and walk/run as fast as he can. In heels and 96% humidity I am bent in half letting him walk us all over the building. 

We walk laps for the rest of the hour. Because being picked up has resulted in more arching of the back and a well placed throat punch. He’s got a plan. He’s got places to see. He doesn’t want to be held. 

Hour 3. 

I meet up with Scott and say maybe we need to call it. He’s exhausted. 

Scott volunteers to take Evan to his class and if it’s a disaster we’ll call it. 

I enjoy my class and as we’re getting ready to say the closing prayer I notice Scott and Evan in the window of the doorway. 

Scott has a look on his face of do not talk to anyone and get in the car. We gotta move.

I get to Scott and he informs me that Evan has unloaded in his diaper and there are no more diapers in the diaper bag. 

Hour 4.

FOURTH QUARTER FOURTH QUARTER FOURTH QUARTER 

We hustle to the car and wrestle the belligerent octopus into the car seat. 

The humidity. The smell. 

But then we start to relax on the drive. 

Scott offers to take the diaper and I check on dinner. 

JESS WE HAVE A SITUATION!! 

So I go into the living room. 

We’re talking neck. Up to his neck. 

It’s carpet so Scott puts what he’s got from the diaper on the Sunday newspaper like a puppy. 

And I call it. 

I just grab Evan by the armpits and march him upstairs to the tub. 

But now we need to wrestle his Sunday shirt off of him. That’s covered. Covered. 

I’m so glad I insisted on the Oxford shirt onesie that’s so hard to get on and off. 

In the wrestle to get the shirt off Evan pees on me. And the bathroom rugs. 

And I busted up laughing. We both did. It really was a hysterical mess. I have zero expectations that a 10month old can sit quietly for three hours, but today was really a prime performance. 

Two bathwater changes later we had ourselves a clean bean and a running washing machine. And all was right in the world.

(He looks sweet, but I know he saves his blowouts for church. He has his entire life. All day Saturday I try and get him to go. Sunday morning comes. Nothing. I know its coming. It's going to happen at church. And he's sooo proud of himself. I'm on to your little game meatball.) 

We’re all looking forward to General Conference next week and church at home. 

The funniest part of the whole thing was after everything was cleaned up we high fived and complimented each other on how well we handled the day and the situation. 

I think he won this round 😂. 

Wednesday Night

It’s been a crazy week over here. Big adulting decisions are possibly in the works, and energy/emotions are high over here. (Can’t say for awhile, but hopefully good news soon.) 

I can’t believe the last time I updated our family blog was January. I keep a pretty good record with Instagram and our Chatbooks, but tonight I wanted to write. 

Evan is 25lbs of raw personality. He’s just the sweetest, funniest kid. I’m really loving our relationship right now. We’re also to the stage where he’s into everything. Crawling, grabbing, pulling himself up on things. It’s really so fun to watch him explore. But at the same time this stage has pulled more heart strings than before. I have been noticing him getting bored or frustrated with me. I come up with lots of games and activities, but I can’t help but feel somethings missing. I know what’s missing. He’s such a social baby. I’ve got good Mom friends and we like to have play dates. But in my Mother’s intuition I know he’s missing his best friend. 

I know that twins would have physically killed me. But putting that aside, it’s really been hurting lately that I couldn’t give that to Evan. Siblings are a ways off too, due to the damage pregnancy did to my body. And I can rationalize all day that this was God’s plan. But on a feelings level I miss our Baby B. We had months before Evan’s arrival to come to terms with our situation, but lately I’ve found myself missing this sweet baby more because now I know what I’m missing. It’s far too grey of a situation to make black and white of it. 

We bought more toys for Evan this week which was really fun, and he loves them. A light up table he can push around. Not what we bought it for, but he loves using it for that. A little Star Wars Tsum Tsum, and some hideous dinosaur that he’s obsessed with. 

We thought of a cute family Halloween costume and I’m looking forward to going to the fabric store and starting to sew for Evan. One of those things that makes you feel like a real mom. I’m so grateful for him, and our relationship. He knows when I need a big hug or a slobbery open mouth kiss. 

Lately he’ll sing back to me when I sing to him. And we sound awful, but I love it so much. 

I don’t think I had any clue how many emotions you can have in a day as a Mom. 

This post seems scattered, mostly because I don’t know how to express my feelings about Baby B. It’s a tender and sacred experience for me and I’m not sure what the right answers are. This blog isn’t supposed to be just about them, but writing has always been therapeutic to me. 

Baby B, Smiles, and Tender Mercies

Sometimes it just really rips my heart out that I have to wait a little longer to hold you.  It's an interesting place to be feeling such unmeasurable joy getting to be Evan's Momma and to have that missing Baby B feeling sneak in often. 

I really think that the veil is so thin with babies. The other night I was snuggling Evan and I asked him if he loved Baby B and he gave me his very first genuine smile. A smile! I asked him if Baby B was a boy or a girl and his coo sounded just like "girl!" which just cracked me up, because I realize he can't talk and he's only 11 weeks old, but for the next five minutes Scott and I talked to him about Baby B and there was so much joy snuggled between the three(four) of us. Evan is going to make the best big brother, he loves his siblings so much already. I'm so glad he's safely in my arms to tell me all about them.  

 

 

(Not an announcement. I imagine it's going to take all of us awhile to recover from the first fight to get our babies here.) 

Happy New Year! And ramblings on motherhood.

Happy New Year!! 

 

 

You're eight weeks old sweetheart! I need to catch up on your monthly updates, but I need to write it out tonight. As the fireworks shoot off outside our window sounding like a stampede because so many people are celebrating, this is our celebration. Me and you. Listening to you breathe deeply on my chest, I can't help but whisper, "we made it, baby." You are a miracle. I can hardly believe this is our life most days. 

When I was four years old I had a "mommy party" for my birthday. I wanted to wash dishes, tend my baby dolls, and paint nails because that's what Mom's do. In high school my nickname was Momma J because I liked to take care of my teammates and bake things. And then came the years of Aunt Jess who got to love on nieces and nephews for the past seven years. (Still do.) but this time you're real, and you're mine. We're not just playing house anymore. I still love washing dishes, painting my nails, baking, but most of all I love tending you. In your short 8 weeks earthside Momma has had to make a lot of tough decisions as to what's best for you. And the 35+2 weeks I managed to stay pregnant. That motherhood stuff starts from the get go. I can't think of anything more humbling. I want what's best for you so badly, sometimes it's hard to figure out what that even is so I can give it to you. I know that I won't always get it right, but I'm so grateful we didn't give up on each other. I know you were probably fighting just as hard to get here as I was trying to get you here. 

Tonight I want to remember:

• The way you always put your fist up to my face when you're done eating so I can kiss it. 
• The way your left ear looks a little smashed. It's darling. 
• All the sweet sounds you make. 
• When I was talking to you about how badly I miss your twin and when I said Baby B your eyes got super big and wide and you threw your arms open. I know you miss them too. I think babies know more than we do.  
• How you managed to poop, spit up, and sneeze all within 30 seconds of each other. And being your number one cheerleaders we were so PROUD of your digestive system. We put you right in the tub.
• How you calm down when you hear my voice. You're very obedient when I talk to you.
• How reverently you fold your hands/arms when you're relaxed. 

Physically my body was so messed up after delivering and Evan needed NICU level help we both needed a team of people to keep us put together. I am so grateful we had all those amazing people on our team. But the empowered "I am his Mom, and I know what's best for him" feeling did not happen out of the gate. Especially since we both needed to be obedient to our Drs and nurses to get strong. I'm so grateful tonight snuggling you way past your bedtime for the empowering moments these past eight weeks that have helped me reclaim my confidence. Like politely declining advice that I know isn't the best fit for our situation or for you! (Sometimes accepting it too, I don't know everything after all.) And not in a rude way. But I've spent the last year and a half holding my breath being obedient to countless Drs and nurses to get pregnant and to get you here. Which worked beautifully, but dangit it's time for me to be in charge. In charge of myself and in charge of you. What a beautiful realization that is. Especially for a Type A trailblazer like your momma. This is a really big deal for me because a lot of the time this year I'll just agree to avoid confrontation rather than voicing how I truly feel.

Little Boy we are going to have so much fun this year. I can't wait to see what you teach me and what I teach you. I've waited forever for this. 

 

And I want you to know I will never ever give up that fight of trying to do what's best for you. Because I do know what's best for you. 

I'm your Momma. 

(Reference this post in 16 years when I try too hard and come across overprotective and overbearing. But holidays and birthdays are the exception, because Momma loves a good party, and sporting events, and probably science fair projects too. We'll just have to play it by ear. Love you sweet boy.)