Haven Baby

It's been a little while since I've bragged about my boy, so, here goes.

I cannot believe how much he understands. He loves to climb the stairs, but I only let him when I hover on the step below. When I say, "Haven, do you want to go upstairs?" he drops whatever he's doing and runs to the bottom of the stairs. While I was making dinner tonight, I grabbed something out of the fridge and the door swung back open. I said, "Haven, would you close the refrigerator for mommy?" He walked to the door and started to close it (until he saw the eggs were within his reach - but it's the thought that counts, especially at 14 months old).

He understands tone. I could use the phrase, "Haven, what are you doing?" in several ways and by the expression on his face - either guilty or a big smile - I can tell that he understands why I'm asking.

His expressive communication isn't too shabby either. So far, his words include: all done, dog, more, mom, dad, and cricket (our cat). Ok, I'll admit, only Dave and I recognize some of those words, but we're impressed. I think he's got others as well, but we're still deciphering them.

I know he'll be a fun big brother. He already plays peek-a-boo using a hat, the laundry or whatever he can find. I have also taught him to put something in my mouth to make me stop crying and plan to utilize this skill of his with little H2, if she takes a pacifier.

He loves to eat, which makes cooking for him a joy. Some foods he likes are blueberry pancakes, blueberry muffins, rice, meatloaf, grilled cheese sandwiches, broccoli, cauliflower, black beans, chili and the old stand by, pasta. He also doesn't mind food with a little spice and had a great time eating at Thai place recently.

He's just come through a phase of great protest to baths and diaper changes. That was not fun. I think he has finally accepted that hygiene is important.

His personality is still pretty laid back, though he has started to throw a few tantrums. He likes to walk around the house with a pen in his hand (or any pointy object he can find, you know, we just leave 'em lying around for him) and taking the pen usually results in a brief tantrum. If he is hungry, he literally hangs on my two legs while I cook and whines - what fun! I'll say it again, though, I'm pretty sure he's an easy baby.

Finally, my favorite, favorite part of every day with him is reading and singing before his nap times. He runs over to the papasan chair, curls up with me and we read stories. We then go in his room and he puts his chubby hands on my shoulders and his head in the nape of neck and I sing to him. Suddenly, in those moments, a part of me is alive that has never been before.

Losing

My husband loves sci-fi. So, the new season of Battlestar Galactica has begun. This is a show about humans who had to leave earth and have to survive in outer space. Their enemies are cylons and cylons looks just like humans. At the end of last season, a key character, Starbuck, died. This season, she's back. There are myriad details I am missing, because I consider Battlestar Galactica time to be my nap time.

From what I gather, Starbuck has possibly turned into a cylon. Or perhaps she has been one along. She's not sure and neither are the other humans. I always liked her character because she's fiesty and says frack a lot (which is a hilarious substitute for the real f-word). I keep thinking about how confused she must be. What would it be like to suddenly lose all that you believe you are?

What would that be like for me?

What would it mean for me to learn that what I live my life for - God - is a fabrication? What if suddenly I knew that God was not who I think he is or that he was not existant at all? Aside from the shock and confusion, my thoughts wandered to one key question:

What would I miss the most?

The knowledge that I am going to heaven after this life?

Somebody to pray to?

A church family?

The confidence that there is somebody bigger than I am out there?

An example of how to live?

I would miss my relationship with Jesus the most. I try to put this into words. I would not miss the religion of Christianity, the theology, even the history. I would miss my friend. When The Passion of the Christ came out, my sister refused to see it because she said she could not watch somebody she loves so much go through all of that. This is how I feel about Jesus, too. He's God, and strong, and the Creator of the world and the judge of my eternal destiny - and He is my closest friend.

He listens when I am confused. He is patient when I take forever to learn a lesson. He is kind when I'm not. He expects me to love him and care about what he cares about. I believe that my desire to do good and "follow rules" simply comes out of my desire to be a friend of God's. I do nice things for my friends because I care about them, not because I'm obligated to or scared.

Anyway, poor Starbuck. I don't want to imagine my life minus my lifeline. I can't look at it. It is too awful.

This week.

I've got an apendage we'll call Haven, so this might be brief. It is after 6 o'clock. We've eaten. Cleaned up. We look forward to when Daddy will be home. Right now, Haven alternates between repeating anything that makes me laugh and standing and smiling very close to my face. He's so cute that it's hard to resist a throw-down tickle session. But I'm so tired.

Haven and I went to Delaware to see my friend Janet and her fam for a couple of days. I love Janet. It's fun to be in the baby-phase (or daze) of life together. She said she's surprised at how much I love being a mom. I agree, nothing has baffled me more. I knew I'd love my children, but I wasn't sure I'd love the huge and constant job of motherhood. Turns out, I sure do (most of the time).


I realized on my drive home that I haven't told Janet what an amazing mom she is -probably because it is so obvious to me. But encouragement can be one of the most beautiful gifts. So, Janet, I was going to send a card, but I'd rather make a public announcement: your mom skills are remarkable. I hope to be as carefree yet conciencous are you. I hope to live the level of commitment to my family and my faith that you do. Thanks for all of the notes along the way!

It did take me a while to finish this post - about 48 hours. It's now Sunday night and we've had a relaxing weekend to top off our week. I have my Master's project to work on so I logged onto blogger for a distraction. Dave started softball this weekend and I wish I had taken a picture of Haven is his sun hat (and, if you must know, one of Dave in his cute baseball pants). I could write about my two guys all night, so, I'll simply say, good night.

I got this. I hope.

There are times when I can feel the full weight of my responsibilities. I cannot remember a time when I was not responsible for something, or, at least, thought I was. It is hard to remember what it was like to have the singular responsibility to clean my bedroom, or serve coffee, or pay $250 for rent. Even the more complex responsibilities of working full time as a newlywed feel simple.


Haven sits with his book basket next to the fire place. He digs through the hard-paged stories, opens one, babbles for a moment, then turns to the next. He looks at them upside down, right side up; he studies them. I am aware that he is my greatest responsibility ever, in both the large and wonderful senses of the word.

A new responsibility I have is as the leader of two groups at the counseling center. I have led groups before, but those were about social skills, personal boundaries, grooming and hygiene - concepts I like to think I understand thoroughly. These groups, however, are on chemical abuse, addiction and recovery. Not something in which I planned to specialize.

It was more comfortable to silently write the progress notes for the group than it is to facilitate. But nobody promised comfort when I decided to become a therapist. (Don't think that I got a promotion. I'm still an unpaid intern who is simply covering for a maternity leave.) I cannot rattle off knowledge about the short and long term effects of various drugs, I cannot spout off various detox drugs and their own potential for addiction, I cannot even give a detailed description of local rehab centers. Okay, take a deep breath... I can, however, give a damn about the people in front of me and their recovery, I can expect change and rewrite treatment plans to accomadate the individual's needs, I can confront, I can encourage, I can keep myself from believing it is my job to fix them, I can create an environment that fosters change. And, well, I can look up that other stuff in a book and letcha know next week. I encourage myself that studies show novice therapists are often as effective as seasoned therapists, especially in behavioral-based therapies. I imagine this is because we are not burned out and we are eager to succeed.

I find that as my responsibilties grow in complexity, they also grow in fulfillment. If they do not, they probably are not worth my time. Of course, when I am scrubbing behind the toilet, I have to remember that it is only a part of the sublime job of being home with Haven full time. Sometimes it's in that big picture I find the rewards. They are there.

So, I will embrace this terrifying responsibility of a group therapist. This is why I started this whole school-thing, isn't it? My plan was to be a missionary, to offer hope. I realized a college education would be an asset. So, I hit the books. That was seven years of education ago. At least 50 college-level classes. You'd think I would feel slightly more confident.