Stranded at the Stop Sign

Yesterday was insanely busy. I woke up early. I fed my children. I bathed my children. I dressed my children. I finished making Brook's Easter Dress. I made lunch. I dropped Brook off at school. I made banners for a church activity this Tuesday. I picked Brook up from school. On the way home I waited behind a jeep at the stop sign. I waited for it to go. And I waited. I don't know what the woman behind the wheel was doing. Probably texting. Seriously people who text while they drive should be punched in the face. Pay attention to the road Blondie! She motioned for me to go around her. Whatever. I swear some people.

Yesterday was insanely busy. I woke up early. I fed my children. I bathed my children. I dressed my children. I finished making Brook's Easter Dress. I made lunch. I dropped Brook off at school. I made banners for a church activity this Tuesday. I picked Brook up from school. On the way home I waited behind a jeep and a truck chatting at the stop sign. Dude, there are other people on this planet trying to get home. I looked at the clock. I had exactly fifteen minutes before I had to start teaching piano AND get Avery ready for her doctor's appointment. Its unbelievable how rude the general population is. I honked my horn and the truck pulled over, but not the jeep. SO rude. I couldn't help myself- I totally glared at her as I passed.

Yesterday was insanely busy. I woke up early. I fed my children. I bathed my children. I dressed my children. I finished making Brook's Easter Dress. I made lunch. I dropped Brook off at school. I made banners for a church activity this Tuesday. I picked Brook up from school. On the way home my jeep ran out of gas at the stop sign. It was entirely my own fault, I've just been so busy lately I haven't taken the time to fill up. I didn't know what to do at first. I thought about calling Andy. It was embarrassing when the cars started lining up behind me. I motioned them to pass me while I thought about what to do. A truck with two men pulled up beside me to ask if I needed help. When I started to explain the minivan behind us started honking. The men pulled over to the side of the road and the woman driving the minivan gave me a dirty look like I had intentionally offended her and her dog. After all the cars had passed the men pushed my jeep over to the side of the road and offered to go get me gas, but since I was only a few blocks from home I told them not to bother; Brook and I could walk. After making sure we were really okay the men drove away.

Seeing us walking through the snow my friend Jamie offered us a ride and some gas, but we were having such a good time I turned her down. Fortunately my first piano student cancelled and Avery's doctor was within walking distance. Andy brought home gas and everything worked out. But the experience of being stranded at the stop sign was a real eye-opener.

So often we misinterpret a situation. So often we don't even recognize that someone is in need. Sometimes we see someone in need and judge them. Sometimes we see someone in need but are so consumed in our own crazy lives that we're unwilling to take the time to help. But being the one in need gave me an entirely different perspective. I'm so grateful for those smoking men who noticed my need and were willing to go out of their way to help. I'm grateful for friends like Jamie. Though my particular situation wasn't dire, it taught me an important and interesting lesson. Because in all likelihood those minivan-driving women attend church on Sunday. In all likelihood they're reasonably "nice" people. But stranded at the stop sign the only real Christians in sight were two men in a rusting pick-up truck, smoking cigarettes, listening to Metallica.

Third Baby Heaven.

There is just something about a third child.

You practically drown your first child in love, attention and twenty-something-years-worth of unrealistic expectations. You expect nothing of your second child and consequently take no pictures which leads to the kind of guilt that leads to extra ice-cream servings and the occasional get-out-of-time-out-free card, which inevitably backfires. By the time you reach your third child you've given up all pretenses of trying to be a good parent and, frankly, just want one of your offspring to like you. And that is where our story begins.

Cambria is a good baby. And when I say "good baby" I'm telling you by two months she was sleeping through the night. She's friendly and happy with practically everyone. You give her a wink and she'll give you a smile. She's just a content, independent person in a family of anxious malcontents (Andy and me included). A note about anxious malcontents if I may: they may break down weeping whenever its time to abandon one activity for another. They may glare suspiciously at anyone with the audacity to compliment their fairy wings. They may develop a facial tic and elapse into hysterics because "my hand touched the blanket that touched the shoe that stepped on some panties". But they do not get into things. They don't have the time. After Breakfast Tantrum aka "I wanted the pink bowl" and Bath Time Anxiety there's hardly enough time to squeeze in The Get Dressed Fiasco aka "This skirt is not dirty" before Systematically Tormenting My Sister Time begins. Its a simple problem of scheduling.

Cambria, on the other hand; Content, sweet, happy Cambria has all the time in the world. And she uses it to get into everything. Sometimes its as innocent as climbing inside a cabinet to munch on a badly tarnished aluminum loaf pan. Other times not so innocent. And while I am forced to keep a closer eye on her, and take baby-proofing seriously for the first time, I can't help but find pleasure and humor in her misadventures because she likes me damnit, and I intend to keep it that way.