Motherhood Lately

I thought it's been too long since I've blogged about poop, so let's check in and have another motherhood discussion.

As you know, we were recently in North Carolina visiting with friends and family. Traveling with a baby is a fast road to burnout. Most of you already know this, but indulge me for a second if I may elaborate.

First, little Will came down with a cold and down with it went any expectations for sleep. When it cleared up, we had just one day of reprieve, when then, he started cutting his four top teeth and has had explosive diarrhea for over a week. (If you were lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a photo of a blowout. . .  you are very welcome! Also, it's finally subsiding, so worry not.) And I think Will wins the prize for slowest teether ever, but that could just be my momness coming through, thinking my kid is extra special and all.

The point is: Blowouts. Sleep problems. Crankiness. So. Much. Friggin. Poop.

It was a constant battle for self-control over extreme anger ("ANOTHER diaper change?!!"), extreme pity ("My poor baby!"), extreme paranoia ("Is he DYING?!"), and extreme sleep-deprivation (likely contributing to the paranoia, but here we also have to blame the old, interminable Internet).

For our return trip, Will braved the skies with sick little Will on a nonstop Raleigh to St. Louis flight, and I was tasked with safely navigating the Subaru home. (Yeah, we bought a Subaru. Give her two additional points on the crunchy scale. Boo ya.)

I was perhaps a little too excited for this drive. Twelve uninterrupted hours of sitting still, yet in a very concrete way being extremely productive? A mom's dream come true. But let's also just say I had a lot of time to both come to know current events via satellite talk radio and also process my thoughts on them. 

Boy, there's a lot of noise out there these days. 

War. Panic. Outrage. Competition.

And I have the type of personality where I'm easily swept up in it. Supreme Court, Church Synod, Political Campaigns . . . Picture my little brain as a hamster on a wheel relentlessly chasing a dangling carrot just out of reach. With sweaty armpits and everything. That represents my brain sometimes. And, actually, my armpits.

It comes back to staying grounded. Oh my gosh, how I can lose sight of the important things when I'm not careful. Getting back into a prayer routine is a given. But I've also been reading St. Therese ever since I got back home. (Maurice and Therese: The Story of  Love, to be precise. Thanks, Lauren!) 

Being so burnt out and caught up in all the craziness of the world we live in, finally picking up this book could not have come at a better time. St. Therese has brilliant insight about just forgetting yourself, embracing your smallness---not letting yourself be discouraged by it, a special weakness of mine---and acting in love above all else. Which is a little ironic because she was a brilliant prodigy, and obviously not a small figure in religious literature by any means, but I digress.

I needed this lesson so badly, to stop (literally and figuratively) sweating everything. 

I've never been so happy to just be settled into our little old routine again, enjoying the mundaneness, finding joy and humor in the poop trials, and despite myself, trying and do the small things with great love. Because changing poopy diaper after poopy diaper can be a spiritual exercise, you guys. Lest we forget.