Day 3. View from an incubator

Today, I'm in a pretty good mood. Yes, I know you're shocked. But really, it is a lovely day and I so enjoy my little tiddlywink and her brothers that I cannot help but be, well, happy. It is amazing the effect these little creatures can have upon one's moods. If Julia is upset or grumpy, for example, she has the ability to so drain me that I feel like an empty shell being slowly crushed under the shoe of a nasty little boy named Freddy. Helpless, hopeless, and flat. Generally at that point the only thing to do is to wait desperately for my husband to get home and carefully glue me back together. On the other hand, when she's in a good mood, and let me tell you, you've never seen the sun shine nearly as bright as she can, she inflates me with such joy that I find myself admiring the view from the top of a pillowy white carpet of clouds. There is simply nothing so intoxicating as Julia on a good day. I often find myself wondering how such happiness can exist and how I don't just explode from it. Those are the moments that everything that is difficult about motherhood is totally worth it. Who thinks about the hard work it took to get to the top of that mountain when you are standing looking at the beautiful view? If anything, the effort just makes the reward all that much sweeter.

That certainly is enough drippy imagery for one post, so let me now get to the topic of the day. Besides the impending doom of the upcoming first day of school, the other topic probably demanding the majority of my thought life is pregnancy. As I am now seven months pregnant, a certain degree of obsession over this topic is completely understandable. However, since this is my fourth child, I am filled less with the dreads and confusion that the prospect of upcoming labor would normally inspire. Rather, I find myself becoming increasingly introspective about pregnancy itself, and what it means to be a pregnant woman.

It's really quite amazing when you realize that your body is actually being used by God as a living incubator. That there is an actual human, a personality, a soul, an entire future of longings and joys and despair and romance and everything else that makes a life, being woven together inside of ME. It's all right here, in this bulge under my shirt. It's so easy to just see a large belly, not much more interesting than an arm or leg, except of course that my arms and legs aren't growing uncontrollably, leaving me looking like a snake who has successfully swallowed a hippo. But to really understand that there is a PERSON in there, and that I am being used as the mechanism through which it is coming into existence, is completely mind-boggling. Maybe my interactions with my two boys is what's really bringing it home to me. They are 8 and 9 now, and they are such, such, Little Men. I mean, they have these thoughts and observations that no one put in their heads for them, and they do and feel and fear and wish and enjoy and so much more. They aren't just my kids anymore. They are people, who happen to be living with me. Sure, they're not even close to being ready to be on their own yet, but I can see that glimmer of who they will be when that day comes. It's simply amazing to think that these incredible people actually began INSIDE OF ME. Someday they will have wives and kids and mortgages and jobs and it all began INSIDE OF ME. From one of me has come three, soon to be four, other entire lives. Everything they do to effect this world, everything that comes from them, I had a part in that. It's like my own piddly existence is somehow multiplied by four, and I am so much more than just "I". I am also Them, for better and for worse. That is why, no matter what happens, no matter what they do and where they go, I will always be a part of them and they will always be a part of me. Whenever they need me, I will always do what I can for them. I will never turn away from them. I may just as well try to turn away from my own body. Because they began, literally, as part of me. Inside me, growing out of my core, taking bits of me as they formed.

So right now, although I may just look to you like a rather frazzled and disheveled pregnant woman waddling uncomfortably as she chases her toddler around the yard, I am, in fact, God's incubator, an integral part of His plan for the creation of human-kind. Whoah.

Day 2, Continued. Aaaah, alone at last.

Ok, so now that I have caused all of the sweet, loving wellwishers to leave the room in a huff, those of us who enjoy a little angst with our coffee (and it must be coffee. None of this week tea stuff. You simply cannot enjoy angst with tea. Although, I might make an exception for Chai, since it's just kind of cool. And Darjeeling. Mostly just because I like to say it. Darjeeling. Dar jeeeeee ling.) can continue our conversation in peace. Where were we?

Oh yes, school. After further thought I have decided to look upon this coming school year as a sort of scientific study. Therefor, I shall henceforth refer to it as The Experiment. (I know, not terribly creative. Feel free to give me suggestions.)
My thinking is this: How many mothers get to simultaneously observe two children in the same grade, one in the public school system, one getting a classical homeschool education? Usually the homeschoolers ardently defend homeschooling as the best route, while the public schoolers just as ardently defend their side, while keeping their children firmly ensconced in one or the other. I will have the singularly rare ability to really compare the two side by side. It should prove rather interesting, actually.

Anyway, that is probably a better strategy for the year than simply hiding in my closet weaping uncontrollably about how terribly messed up they both will be. Certainly preferable for my husband, anyway.

Day 2. Actually I don't think I'm THAT nuts.

Why is it that the moment a person starts sharing their inner thoughts they are labeled as depressed? It would appear that my initial blogging has worried certain loving individuals in my life and caused them to fear for my psychological state. Actually, I am not depressed, or, at least, no more than usual. In fact, I feel strongly that if most people were honest and open about their inner feelings, they would find that they have very much the same sort of misgivings about their decisions and doings that I do. I think the only major difference is that I am in fact (perhaps overly) open and honest about my misgivings, whereas most everyone else has perfected the ability to stuff and deny.

Case in point. Before we were married, my fiance (now husband) and I did some counseling with our pastor. Part of the pre-marriage counseling package was a lengthy questionaire we had to fill out individually. I guess it was supposed to show whether we were compatible or something. Anyway, I was my usual open and honest self. My husband was the normal stuff and deny (not that he has a problem with this. It's really something most everybody does, isn't it? ) Well, when we returned to hear the results of said survey, rather than being a time of discussing compatibility and relational stuff, it turned into an anti-suicide witch hunt by the pastor. Apparently, anyone who honestly admits that they don't believe they're the best at everything and that their spouse is rather wonderful is not so much modest, but secretly suicidal and depressed. This was not the case, and I have to say I continue to harbor some ill feelings toward said pastor, even after all these years. My husband can attest that I did not, in fact, turn out to be a suicidal, or homicidal for that matter, maniac. Just someone who tends to be a bit too honest about her own failings.

My point? I guess my point is that if you read this blog and find yourself feeling sorry for, or worried about, me in any way, just get over yourself and look inside. You may find that there are a couple of pieces of your puzzle missing as well. It's called being human. If we were all a bit more open and honest about it we would realize that there is nothing at all wrong with being human. I personally wouldn't want to be God, anyway. I'm sure I would just screw it up. :)

Day one. What am I, nuts?

Ok, so this is not the sort of blog that, say, my sister, my mother-in-law, or any other reasonable person I know would do. (Ok, I personally wouldn't call my mother-in-law reasonable, but some people would.) It's not a family update blog or an opinion blog or a how's-my-day-been blog or whatever. It will be some of each of these, and a little of something else. Mainly, it will be a look into that frightening place that is my inner me. Oooh, ick, I know. Who wants to see the inner anybody? Not really a top desire today. I personally would rather stick my hand into a blender than to see the inner feelings of, say, my mother-in-law. So, feel free not to bother reading. I just feel like having an online diary. And if you know me and decide after reading whatever drivel comes out of my head that I am, in fact, nuts, well, it took you long enough to figure that one out, didn't it!

So, on with the show.

Today, and for the past several weeks, I have been struggling with my decision to send my oldest son to school. I am a homeschooler and have homeschooled him and his younger brother for about 5 years now. He will be entering fourth grade at a local public school in Fayetteville. Why am I putting him in? Well, the reasons are unclear, even to me. My husband is convinced that it is to make my life easier, since we're about to have our fourth child (which is about two more than we really ever expected to have). I suppose in some ways it will make my life easier to only be homeschooling one child rather than two, but this isn't really why I'm doing it. It could be because I think he needs some friends, which he does, and that he needs more of an outlet for his social and creative sides, which he also does. But that's now quite right, either.

Basically, I think the reason that is at the core of me (since this is a blog about my inner self, afterall) is that I think that I'm terrible at this homeschooling thing and am afraid of completely screwing him up.

Why, you may then ask, am I not putting my other son into school as well? Well, that would be because another part of me is terrified that sending them to school is the wrong choice and that it will, in fact, completely screw them up. Thus, by sending one and keeping the other I (presumably) will at least save one of them from being completely screwed up. Yeah. That's right. I'm a loon.

So basically they now have a 50/50 chance of being completely screwed up. Of course, one may point out that with such a wacky mother, those odds are probably a little closer to 90/10.