It Takes a Village

While I’ve never actually read Hillary Clinton’s book by this same title, I have quickly come to learn that it does indeed take a village to raise a child. In our Western culture, the term ‘village’ may be defined quite differently than in other cultures, but in my opinion, it takes a village nonetheless! In the time known as B.M.K. (Before Marriage and Kid), I had a tendency to try to do most things on my own, somehow equating ‘needing someone’s help’ with weakness. I’m ashamed to admit it, because I love to help others, but I have a very hard time asking for help myself. Perhaps it was the first child in me or the fact that I am a byproduct of this isolationist, pull yourself up by your bootstraps culture, or maybe I just felt like I had something to prove as a woman. Or quite possibly, it was just a mask for that weakness no one likes to admit, pride.

The reality is we do need each other. We need other people. And that’s a good thing. Needing each other doesn't weaken us, it strengthens us. The opportunity to give and receive in relationship is such a gift. It builds trust and it strengthens connection. Why would I want to rob myself of that? Oh right, the pride thing. Well, fortunately for me, being married and having a child have quickly stripped me of much of my pride, and in more ways than one. I’ve had to ask for help on plenty of occasions. And lately, sometimes that request just comes in the form of a desperate look on my face, like when I’m trying to lug my increasingly heavy son in his car seat into the dry cleaners, while carrying about 10 items of clothing in the other hand, with my purse thrown over my shoulder. You know that look? The “please, please, be so kind and open the door for me so I don’t have to put something down and then have to figure out how swing open the door and quickly scoop everything up in my arms again in such a way that I can still get through the door before it hits me in the behind” look.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Tom was out of town and I had hoped to attend a Mom’s Night Out event with some of the other Stroller Strides mamas. The event was a cooking class where the moms attend the class while the dads hang with the kiddos in the play area. This event, by the way, just so happened to take place at a local venue named, The Village. Coincidence, I think not. Anyway, obviously I couldn’t go to the event sans a caretaker for my child. So, that morning, a couple of the other mamas said to me, “you should go, Melissa, our husbands will watch Ben. It would be no problem at all.” My first reaction, “oh but I hate to pawn B off on some other dad. I feel bad doing that.” My second reaction, I got over it. I accepted the offer with gratitude and had a blast at the cooking class while one of the dad’s watched my lil man (thanks again, Stephanie!). And I think B had a fun time too. I know it seems like a little thing, but I think that in day to day life, the little things often feel like big things!

Yes, we need each other, especially when life throws us curve balls. One of my dear friends has been thrown a whole lot of curve balls, the latest being her husband's diagnosis of a rare form of lymphoma, and the starting of his treatment, all while she has a 2 year old and is nearly 9 months pregnant with her second. I'm so thankful that I have time to meet with her for coffee, to watch her 2 year old, to support her in any way I can. She has asked me to be in the labor & delivery room with her for the birth of her daughter. This, to me, feels both like an incredible privilege and honor, as well as a daunting responsibility. What if I don’t say or do the right things? I don’t know how to coach someone through labor. But I have to stop and tell myself, sometimes being a friend is just showing up. Hopefully, my presence will be support enough. I know that this is a season that she and her family are in, albeit a very dark and stormy season. I believe the storm will end for her, but I want to stay in it with her until it does. I know that I have and will have stormy seasons in my life when I will need, like it or not, the support of the people in my life.

Relationships are so important in times of celebration too. Afterall, we want people to witness the milestones we hit and the commitments we make in life. Last Sunday, we had Ben baptized. We invited many of our family and friends to attend, with the understanding that we cannot raise Ben in the way we desire, by ourselves. We greatly value our friends who feel like family and our family who feel like friends, and we hope that they will continue to walk with us on this journey called life, and us with them. They are part of our village. And I do not want to try to live this life apart from my village…ever again!

Blowing It Out of the Water

This past Tuesday, Ben and I ventured out into sub-zero temps (-9) for our first parent/child swim class at the rec center. Don’t worry people, he was bundled to the hilt and I warmed up the car first (NOT backed up to the garage, of course – see post entitled, Out with a Bang, In with a Beep) for 20 min to get it nice and toasty inside. So yes, out we went to our first swim class. Basically it was just an introduction to swimming, to help kids begin to feel comfortable in the water. My parents started me in swim lessons at a very early age and I have always been grateful because I've had an affinity for the water and swimming for as long as I can remember. And since birth, Ben has loved his baths, so I had high hopes for him and the whole swimming thing. And as it turned out, he loved it. You might even say, he blew it out of the water. He was smiling, kicking, and splashing away, with little visible fear and not a single tear. I was a proud and happy mama.

Fast forward to today, swim class numero dos. Today the instructor announced that we were going to work on blowing bubbles. She said that we, the parents, should blow bubbles, in effort to model to the kiddos how to do it. She said that as they watched us, they would begin to get the idea and start to do it themselves. So, there I was blowing bubbles in the water and making motor boat sounds. Ben, just stared at me, looking somewhat bewildered. But at some point he caught on, because he began to blow his own bubbles. The only problem being, he was blowing bubbles of a different kind, if you know what I mean. In other words, while on Tuesday, I would say he blew it out of the water, today, he apparently decided to blow it INTO the water!!!

Picture it, I'm in the water and B is sitting on the side of the pool, ready to practice jumping into the water, when suddenly I spy a brownish colored substance making it’s way into the little filter thingy on the side of the pool. For a split second, I think ‘oh sick, I wonder what that is. No, I take that back, I don’t even want to know. Pools that have lots of kiddy users are so gross.’ And just as that train of thought rolled into the station, it hit me, with hurricane-like force, ‘oh my gosh, that is BEN’s poop!! HE BLEW OUT HIS SWIM DIAPER!!!’ I look into the pool, scanning the water, and can do nothing but gasp as I see them, the brown floaties swirling about in the pool, having escaped from MY son's swim dipe! Quite honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I mean the classes at the hospital certainly don’t prepare you for what to do when your son blows out his diaper in the middle of swim class. So, mustering up all my humility, I quickly let the instructor, who is all of about 21 years of age, into my dirty little secret. To her credit, she managed to move the rest of the class out of the pool and into another kiddy pool, all the while assuring me that it happens to every mom at some point. Really? To all you moms and dads out there, has this happened to you? Or anyone you know? Or was she just trying to make me feel better? I’m betting on the latter.

In unforeseeable circumstances such as these, I find that I have to try to keep my wits about me and just do my best, as far as a plan of action goes. I mean, when you’ve got the brown stuff oozing out all over the place, you have to act and you have to act fast. So, I briskly wisk B and his poopy little self out of the pool and wrap him in my towel, making a bee line for the showers. I quickly rinse him off, watching all of the evidence make it’s way down the drain. And through all of this, B is just looking at me with his usual sweet face, wondering what’s going on. After all, for him it was just business as usual. Only today, he decided to do his business in the pool! Tom said I should tell him that just because the first 3 letters in pool are poo, doesn’t mean he has to do it in the pool!

As for me, it was yet another opportunity for learning and growth. Sure, I thought of things I could have done better. Yet, if this had happened when I was in my 20’s, I probably would have been absolutely mortified and may have had a very difficult time going back to the class next week, that is if I even would have gone back at all. But, here I find myself in my 30’s and this little defining moment shows me that I’ve grown. Instead of being mortified, I just found myself momentarily panicked as to what to do, but was able to laugh about it pretty quickly afterwards. And really, all I could do was shrug my shoulders and look at the other parents like, ‘well, sorry everybody to put a damper on all the swim fun, but I don’t really have a whole lot of control over the kid’s poop schedule! See ya next time!’ And we will go back next Tuesday, and we will resume our work on blowing bubbles, but hopefully next time they will be the kind that come out of his mouth!

On the drive home, I decided that this eventful morning called for a drink. I’m not gonna lie, a margarita sounded pretty darn good! But seeing as it was 9:30 in the morning and I had to drive my little man home, I opted for a Starbucks. I call it my, ‘Pool Blowout Recovery Latte!’ And of course, I drove 10 minutes out of my way to a Starbucks with a Drive-thru , because guess who was asleep? You guessed it, the Lil Pooper. And why wouldn’t he be, he too was recovering from quite the active morning, with all that kicking and splashing, and workin’ out of his business. As I rocked him back to sleep once we were home, I looked down at him and thought, ‘I love his naiveté and absolute oblivion to what other people think of him.’ And I felt a twinge of sadness, knowing that at some point, he will begin to concern himself with what other people think. At least for a few decades anyway, until he realizes once again, like his mama is beginning to, that you can’t control what other people think of you. You just have to be yourself! And well, this morning I expanded the definition of who I am a bit, becoming a member of that special club, the ‘My Kid Blew Out His Diaper In The Pool During Swim Class’ club! Any other members out there?