Is it April yet?

It's a very terrible habit wishing time away and as a rule I try not to do it, no matter what it is I'm looking forward to or wanting to get over with.  And every year, about this time, I'm almost crazy wishing spring would come.  But this year more than ever I wish the weather would hurry up and get warm so that baby boy and I can leave this house!  The doctor says once it's April and flu season is over, it will be safe to bring Caleb out and about; because for him to get sick would be way worse than another kid with no heart condition getting sick.  Caleb couldn't care less to be home all day, but his mama and big brother are counting down the days.  Makes me wonder if Caleb is going to be a homebody like his daddy or a people-person like his mommy.  Or a crazy firecracker-ball-of-energy like his brother.  Poor Jonah, he wants to get out of here and do something, ANYTHING.  The kid is getting cabin fever so bad he even wants to go with me to Caleb's doctor's appointments, and that is bad considering that Jonah loathes the doctor's office and likens his own visits to child abuse.  I guess compared to staying in the house another day, he's willing to take his chances that he won't be the one getting ow-ies.  


You know, I just realized that I started writing this post with no real idea of what I intended to write about.  I'm sitting here thinking, what is there to say?  What a nice change.  No desperate prayer requests.  No upcoming open-heart surgeries.  No traumatic experiences lately, with the exception of the enema I had to give Jonah the other day.  Yikes.  That was only Day Four of me being home alone with both kids, and I had to call Daniel at work and tell him to Come. Home. Now.  Jonah had been constipated for a few days and I was attempting to give him an enema by myself... stupid.  He was hysterical, naked on the floor on a towel and Caleb was in his bed crying, and I was crying and we were all a mess.  Then we became a messier mess when Jonah wriggled out of my arms in the middle of his enema and proceeded to poop all over himself, the floor, his mother... oh, the horror.  You can imagine the scene when Daniel walked in the door.  God love that man, he is the most patient, level-headed person I know.  He is the perfect partner for me, who had completely lost it by then.  Jonah and I were just holding each other, both covered in poop, crying and sweating from the overall stress of the situation.  That was the day I realized the answer to the question I'd been asking myself all week, "How on earth do people take care of more than one kid at a time?"  And the answer is, somebody just has to wait.  There might be consequences, such as poop on the floor, or a baby crying so long his little lips looked blue (sorry, Caleb), but there's no getting around the fact that I can't always do two things at once.  And now that I realize that this is inevitable, I have relaxed a bit and cut myself some slack.  Oh the joys of parenting!  I do think I'm getting better at this.  Each week I've felt a little more confident in my ability to take care of these little boys that God has entrusted to my care.  God, help me to be a giving, kind and patient mother who finds her confidence and security in You.  And help me to remember how quickly time goes by and not to wish it away, even the hard moments where I feel cooped up, or sleep-deprived, or like I might go insane when Jonah wants to watch his Bob the Builder dvd three times in a row.  Amen.


As for Caleb, he is doing great.  Thriving!  He is gaining weight really quickly and is smiling and cooing and I want to kiss his fat little cheeks right off his face.  At the doctor's office yesterday he weighed 9 lbs. 3 oz.  This is a victory!  Praise God for his little life.  Soon he'll make his world debut and we can stop being hermits and come out of the house.  Until then, pray for us to keep our sanity just a little longer.