Five

I love autumn for the same reasons that everyone else does. Leaves, football, using my wallet to salute anything pumpkin flavored and gimmicky...Jackets, leather boots, finally breaking free of the a.c. ... Autumn is wonderful, but, I have to be honest: I also hate it too. 

For me, at least, the beginning of Autumn feels like a 'mid year' crisis. Not a big one, mind you. But a panic the length of exactly one heartbeat when I realize how much of the year has passed. Winter graciously takes a curtain call to the young upstart spring.  No more eager anticipation of tiny buds transforming into green ash leaves outside my window.  Forget the happy surprise on the day that I turned my heat off in the house and rolled down the windows in my car.  Good bye to barbecue parties with neighbors and friends. Even though I look forward to autumn, I do already miss the other season's 'favorite things' and it makes me wonder if this is what parenting looks like.

Tomorrow, Zoey turns 11 weeks old. Really, 'old' is a misnomer for her, but I am finding that I already miss some things about her newborn life. 

I laugh out loud when I think of the first long ride home from Germantown, and when we took her out of the carseat when we got into the house. I looked at Wes, he looked at me, and we could read each other's facial mixture of happy panic. 

I giggle at my response to her the first time she shrieked or growled, and the first time that I didn't have to get up every two hours at night for feedings. 

I smile when I think about how I begged her to smile when she was awake and when she finally did, it was simply glorious. 

I don't think its exactly fair to say that I am having a mid baby crisis, because Z isn't even 6 months old, but I am already fondly remembering many, many firsts, and savoring them like the last bit of summer sunset. 

I always wondered why parents of children older than mine always get this funny look in their eyes when they warn me that childhood goes too quickly. If I could describe it, I think its a mixture of joy and panic.

Four

Today was the first day Zoey got to see a park. It was a trip worthy of a stop at Starbucks before going to Central Park in Southaven. When we pulled her out of the car seat and bucked her in to her stroller, I realized that this was less trip to the park and more humbling rite of passage. 

How? Well, I started my life away from Wes as complete stranger, with my own childhood memory of going to the park with parents. Separately, Wes and I played on swings and slides, ate lunch and dreamed of our fun days during car rides home. Over the years, we spent time with friends and family in this arborous garden while bathing ourselves in the hot and cold elements around us. We played surrounded by families of few and many, of young couples and babies, not stopping to realize that one day our lives would also change. Then when we finally met, we spent time at a park. We just about believed that the in the lobster with the caribbean accent in that cartoon movie really exists. The leaves swayed in step with our hearts and after the sunset bathed us in loving hues, the moon shone with beams of love. We knew it was absolutely meant to be.

And now there's this. A baby. A tiny little replicate of both of us, of the best of us, inside one little 12 pound, 21 inch body. In a lovely little yellow carriage, perfectly defined by the relaxing feeling that it creates while in use. We stroll through the park together, all of us thankful of the little family of Wes, Zoey and I. Passing young lovers who can see no one else other than their sweetheart, and families with children who have nothing else on their minds than to play. We joyfully walk the path, thankful to our loving Father God for every step that He has been with us on this journey, while looking forward for what He has for us beyond the horizon.

Three

Are we talking whuppin' or discipline? The discussion and debate have started again and I'm finding so many people on either side of the issue. Is the goal to make them shut up or be resilient and confident do gooders? Do we have the argument, well my momma did it and I turned out fine, or do we say its a different time now? I think both of those arguments are wrong, IMO.

As a parent of someone who hasn't needed discipline, or spankings, I don't have a complete opinion, but what I will say is that my goal for Zoey will be discipline. I'd like to raise her into someone who is full of the fruit of the Spirit and understands her value enough to not compromise her standards with her spouse. But I can't teach what I don't do, so when it comes to these things, the best teacher is me. My prayer is that I'm engaged enough in God so that I abound and can teach what I live.

Two

I'm (still) mystified at how much the look of a body changes after having a baby. Flabby skin and fat that comes over the top of my pants like a kid leaning over the glass on the top level of fairlane mall! And stretch marks that look more like skid marks, complete with jagged angles.... How is it that I thought nothing of my contribution to this latent outward expression of pregnancy? Even though I hear people talk about it, it was in one ear and out the other. But like the bubble gut after gas station sushi, it caught up with me fast. A few days after delivery, I looked in the mirror and thought a few words about my mid section that would embarrass a sailor.

But the real embarrassment should be my comfort level with the idea that bodies don't have flaws. If women have babies, thus having stretch and flab, wouldn't it be true that more bodies out here look more like my new one than my old one? And for a lot longer than my old one. File that under things that make you go hmm.

Today when I looked in the mirror and saw all those 'curves and imperfections', I realized that this is the real me. And I took a bow.

One

Tuesday, Zoey will be 7 weeks. Time flies. (When I say that, I imagine a clock with wings. That's really what it feels like).

Why did I name this blog Patient Ponderings? Whoever reads this should know upfront to be patient with my thoughts as I navigate this next stage of life. I can be so stubborn with things that I am certain of, only to realize that someone else's opinion is actually fact. And not the out loud version of stubborn, but the killing me softly passive aggressive yea whatever version. And what you're reading is a good example. A few people suggested that I start a blog and I was like, sure (but really noo). And I can see now, they were right. I feel a little loney, and this is a way to vent my head and share how I'm changing due to age, status in life and relationship with God. (Even if its to say, I feel like crap, I hope you can read that without judging or trying to soothe me.)

Today is Sunday and I am sitting here wishing I could be outside in the sun, enjoying the day with Zoey, but no. She hasn't gotten shots yet, and even though I can ignore the advice from her pediatrician to take her out, I really don't want to subject her to a spinal tap if she gets sick from being out. Also, she is getting shots tmw, so she needs to be completely healthy. But if we could go out on this beautiful lovely day, I'd walk her around the park in Southaven that I pleasantly discovered while walking with mom a few weeks ago.