one of those days.

We woke up in a rush to get ready for Church.  It was raining outside.  Bed sounded much, much nicer than Church on this particular morning, but we go up anyway.

I thought we were walking into Church just on time so I took the baby to the nursery while my husband got seats.  The nursery already had several crying babies which didn't really make me feel good about leaving Hadden, but I did anyway.

When I got back to the auditorium, the service HADN'T started, but we realized we left my Bible in the car.  No biggie.  We can share.  A couple minutes later, the service started and the screen turned on.  Immediately a nursery number was flashing.  Even though I had our number memorized, I checked it again, pulling the card with our number out of my wallet.  Nope.  It's close, but not ours.

The number stayed up there for a while and finally went away.  "Good," I thought, "the parents got their baby."

Then it was back up there.  I wanted to go to the nursery to check on Hadden, but I also didn't want to be a paranoid mother.  "They have your number.  They'll page if anything is wrong."  I repeated the mantra to myself.

The number was still there.

Suddenly someone is at my side.  For a moment I can't place her face and then I realize she was at the nursery when I dropped him off.  "Your baby needs you."

As we rush back to the nursery, we realized that the women had given me the wrong number.  All the while the number was flashing on the screen it had been MY baby who was crying and needed his mama.  She apologized profusely.  Of course it was an honest mistake.  But my baby's red-rimmed eyes made mine start to get teary too.

I rocked him and held him and whispered love to him and almost immediately he calmed down.  So we went into to sit with Caleb for the rest of the music.  Hadden was quiet and watching everything going on.  When the music ended and it was time for the sermon, it was clear we weren't going to be staying in there.

Soon I was outside the auditorium walking with Hadden and eventually found the empty "cry room" where we could sit.  It was just a circle of five chairs with a changing table so I tried to give him a bottle and some snacks.  Soon one mom came in with a newborn.  Then two more.  The room was getting crowded so I decided to leave.  Plus I was overhearing an overly enthusiastic "good job for you for breast feeding your baby for fifteen months" conversation as I fed my baby a bottle of Target brand formula. 

As soon as I walked out, I saw Caleb come out of the auditorium to see if I wanted to switch.  "Honestly?" I said, "I just want to leave."

And so we did.  Midservice.

I've never done that before.

We were all frustrated on the way home.  But we made it home and tried to salvage the day.  Caleb listened to a sermon online and Hadden and I practiced "sit time".

Later, Hadden was in his pack n play while we made lunch.  He has just learned how to pull himself up onto things and so he is doing it non-stop.  But this time he fell, resulting in a little red bump on his head and lots of tears.  But it was nothing a few hugs and an ice pack couldn't help.

A couple hours later we put Hadden on the floor in our room for just a minute, but, of course, the minute I turned around he somehow found a bottle of Tums (the same bottle I had been unable to locate the night before) and managed to get the lid off (the kid has mad skills, let me tell you).  Only one got into his mouth, but there was pink drool all over the carpet and his outfit.  Lovely.

It was an exhausting day of parenting.  And the thing about parenting is that you wake up the next day and do it all again whether or not you're ready for it.

Of course, there were perfectly lovely moments in the midst of all these crazy ones.  That baby is so absolutely amazing and we are enraptured with him.

But we're also exhausted by him.

And that's okay.

I remember talking to my sister before Hadden was born and saying something about "being a bad mom" because of some choice I was making.  I might not remember her exact words but they were something like this, "Stop that!  Stop it with the mom-guilt!  You're going to be a great mom and it has nothing to do with silly choices like letting your kid watch TV or feeding them non-organic grapes."

Stop it with the mom-guilt.

Man.  Couldn't we all stand to hear that?

Or, more importantly, stop making other moms feel guilty.  

Or, stop with the comparisons.

This doesn't mean, of course, that we don't try.  There are still things that matter a tremendous amount to me.  There are certain principles I want to instill in my child and certain ways I want them to be raised.  And, to be honest, I feel pretty darn strongly about some of those things.

But it's most important that my child is loved and that he has sane and happy parents.

My baby cried as soon as I left him in the nursery and I didn't come to get him right away.

But he is loved.

My baby fell out of his crib yesterday (don't worry, it has since been adjusted)

But he is cherished.

My baby hit his head.

But he is cuddled and cared for.

My baby found a Tums and ate it.

But he is adored.

And tomorrow?  We'll wake up and do it all again.  

But it's okay.  

Because even though my energy wears out, the one thing I really need to keep going is never-ending.  And that's love.





**In no sense am I discounting safety, of course, of course you need to be vigilant about safety and, even though this post may not give the impression, we are extremely careful about his safety.