C.P. Has Teeth

Did I mention C.P. has teeth? He got them for Christmas, two front teeth on the bottom.

A Snow Day Post in which a Mommy Considers Being More Considerate

Penn is lying beside me reading "Baby's World of Colors." Scratch that, Penn has rolled over and is trying to sabotage writing my blog. He reaches for the keyboard and--oh--thwarted by Mommy who rolls him back over and sits him up on a pillow. Spit up.Clean up. How about a change of settings? From the bedroom to the blue room. Penn is dancing and singing to the classical melodies on his Baby Einstein jumper. He turns towards me, just to make sure I'm aware of how much fun he's having. He grins so I can see those two bottom teeth, and says, "hey." Really, it sounds like he says "hey." I tell him he's wonderful and return to writing and watching the army of snowflakes barricade us in.

Snow day. snow day. I was supposed to go back to work in January, but so far, I've only been to school a total of three-and-a-half days and been off a total of five. This has been good. I've been able to be with my boy five months, and am gaining a slooowww adjustment back into the world of being a high school teacher. I write a test here, read a book there, watch a little West Wing with Brandon, and all the while take care of that sweet, energetic tiny person.

This time last year we had our first ultrasound, our first glimpse of Penn. We were 11 weeks exactly. We didn't know anything about having a baby, weren't sure where we were going to put him, how we were going to pay for him...heck, we didn't even know he was a him. But you could see in black and white, a tiny person with a head, a body, arms and legs. He was already

more sophisticated looking than a stick-man.

In those days, I had crazy pregnancy dreams. I dreamed he was born the size of a matchbox doll, and we kept him in a Pyrex dessert dish. I dreamed he was a boy. Then I dreamed he was a girl. Then I dreamed he was a boy. In those days, I was exhausted and unsure how to break the news. I wanted him, I loved him, but this would make two people to whom I was bonded in lifetime commitment, and as wonderful as marriage is, it can be hard by itself. Yet, as we told people, their excitement began to calm my fears. With each congratulation, I was given the freedom to embrace that growing life. Friends would say, "you're going to be an incredible mom," and I began to believe them.

Penn has tuckered himself out, the jumper is empty, and the boy is a swaddled, sleeping bundle (hopefully) for the next two hours. He is a good kid. He eats when he's hungry, sleeps when he's tired, and cries when he's bored.

Now that he's asleep, the house is quiet. These moments of aloneness are sweet, but they tend to bring on existential questions. What else am I? If I can't be defined by my son because he's sleeping, and if I can't be defined by my husband because he's running errands, and if I can't be defined by my job, because my job is delayed by snow, and if I can't be defined by my friends, because they have their own lives...what am I? Even in this solitude, I look to say I exist because I'm a woman writing a blog. But this distinguishes me no more than saying I exist because I am a woman wearing a black shirt. I've delayed the obvious Christian question, because I wonder how it is true. Am I defined by my God?

I have no doubt that I am blessed by my God. A week of rest, a warm home on a cold day, a full belly in a bum economy, a happy marriage in an era of high divorce rates. I am blessed. I am happy. But I am also searching. These things are blessings, and thank you God for their pleasure, but they're not IT. Why am I not volunteering at the Salvation Army? Why am I not saving up for a mission trip to Haiti? Why haven't I read my Bible yet today? I just mean, I feel like I've been stingy with a God who's been exceedingly good to me. Some might say, just wait until things don't go your way. And I would say that God has taught me to be content in my circumstances. I would say that even in death, especially in failing, he has shown his hand in my life. I would say that God is good, and gives generously to all who ask. I would say this because I'm not currently in crisis, and in crisis, I will try to say this.

My God gave me the responsibilities that I enjoy, but its too easy to say that I am living just as God wants me to live. Already the logistical problems of leaving my son to go work at the Salvation Army crop up as excuses. But maybe I could start right here on my couch. I could start by being more considerate. Half of the things I enjoy are because other people are considerate of me. My husband especially. For at least a year, the man has made me breakfast every morning. He starts my car on cold days. He washes the dishes, most of them, most days. And I have to admit that when its time for me to make dinner, I'm looking for a way out of it. When the house is messy, I'm often content to leave it in its disorder. When my husband was working, and I was home with the baby, he was still the one making breakfast. My friends could probably all list ways that they have been considerate of me, and I have not returned the thoughtfulness. It's not that I'm totally inconsiderate, but I'm not consistently so. I have to change my habits. I have to change the centricity of my world. And I have to try again when I botch attempts or make no attempts at all. This is my back to work resolution. Be more considerate of husband, family, friends, co-workers. God help me.

Brandon just called and said he's coming home. It's lunchtime, so let the consideration begin with a homemade meal.

Charlie Penn is 5 Months!

Charlie Penn is 4 Months!