"If God is our father, then who is our mother?" The door-to-door faith pusher leaned in, holding his Bible extended into the door frame, making it more difficult for me to close the door.
It's hard to know what moment in the day was more frustrating - the one that came before this, or the bit that followed after.
Yesterday was one of those days where I got up early and was super organized because I had more than usual to accomplish. I was making dinner for a friend in the morning, while Finch took his morning nap, so that we could do a double header play date for lunch and afternoon tea, ending with the delivery of the meal. But, in that special way that babies have, Finch sensed that I needed to be getting things done, so he didn't sleep. He wouldn't sleep. He cried and cried and I went in again and again to give him his special blanket which was on the floor, and change his dirty nappy, and lie him down and shush him...until nap time was all used up and I was frazzled before the day really began.
By after play date #1 he fell asleep in the car on the way home and I'd transferred him in and resumed my efforts on the dinner before my friend arrived to drop off 3 of her 4 children for our second play date. He was still asleep but Thing 1 and Thing 2, I mean Small Sun and Sprout, where not being absolutely still and quiet like I kept asking them to be. It was when I had Sprout sitting on the time-out stool in the kitchen while I cooked that someone started banging on the door: the door right next to the room where Finch was still sleeping.
I sprinted to the door at that speed which only the mothers of barely-sleeping babies can reach. Zero to front door in two seconds flat. My feet hardly touched the floor from the back of the house down the hall to the front. I opened the door a wide crack to try to keep the noise outside and I greeted the strangers with a clear "my baby is sleeping, please be quiet."
After about three questions the male-female team had assessed that I WAS a Christian, but not the right sort, and I had assessed that they were in for a conversion and not about to back down. I stated firmly "we have a difference in theology, and that is okay. I have food on the counter, guests on their way here, and a baby sleeping, I need to go now." They were insistent. No door-to-door salesperson could have over-insisted these two. The man responded with "that is just physical food - this is eternal food that will lead to salvation - let me show you two more scriptures." I don't think a Hoover sales guy could counter with anything like that.
I think my tone bordered on begging as I heard Finch begin to move and cry in his bed. "My baby, he NEEDS TO SLEEP!" I begged/hissed. As I realized that it was too late I began to see red - the red of a mother who has worked all day to have a child get to sleep, only to have him woken. I closed the door on the evangelist's face and they are lucky I didn't give them a tongue lashing to boot. Hell hath no fury like the mother of a woken infant.
I rushed back to the kitchen to try to get the dinner finished before Finch's little moans turned into wails. And that's when I found Sprout, in the bathroom, stripping down. "I did a pee on the time out stool" she explained. And indeed, she had. The stool was the point of origin for a waterfall that ended in a large pool on the floor of the kitchen. Then there were the footprints leading to the bathroom and the puddle beneath the soggy clothes, and the footprints leading to the bathtub where she was waiting. Sigh.
Sometimes motherhood is a series of deep breathes. I can count at least five times yesterday where I had to make myself stand still and close my eyes and breathe deeply, count to ten, and mutter "these children are more important than X." X being me wanting to yell at them, the floorboards covered with pee, anger at them not sleeping, the massive mess they created with their friends, etc.
Stop, breathe, count to ten. In ten minutes flat it can turn from me pulling my hair out to the loveliest moment ever. I always try to keep that possibility in mind: the startling beauty and wonder that is tucked between the maddening moments.
The Captain arrived him on the heels of the friend's departure. The house was rubble from front to back, but dinner was hot out of the oven. After we tucked three exhausted children into bed and cleared the debris field, I fell over onto the couch, weary to the bone. And I must confess, this morning I still have my PJs on after everyone is dressed. I am clinging to the feeling of rest, even as the day marches on. We'll take is slow today, and play games together on the floor, and eat yummy snacks, and settle into love after the jostling we gave it yesterday.
Woah, Mama...you were busy! I can't stand it when something disturbs naptime. Strangers at the door would have really been irritating. Good for you for jammies and taking it easy!
Posted by: Kelly | 09 July 2010 at 11:39 AM