Interrupted

My poor baby is not feeling well. The pollen has been been working on him all week. Now, his nose won’t stop running and he has a nasty cough. We had the privilege of spending the weekend with daddy. When we got up this morning, I had all intentions of going to church. I love how church makes me feel. It grounds me. It makes me feel alive. It gives me hope.
As I was getting dressed, Cooper was sitting in his pack and play. He was coughing and he was crying. As much as I wanted to go, I found myself slowly changing out of my dress clothes and picking him up. A few minutes of laying back in the bed, he was out.
It is truly amazing how you can have one plan for your day or even for your life and one small little thing, like a runny nose or a chance meeting can change your life completely. I feel the same way about God and this journey I am on with him. I had a plan before but, things have changed. Whatever path I was walking before has been interrupted. I am happy about this fact. I want God to use me in whatever way he sees necessary. I’m not claiming to do everything right. I’m not claiming that I am not a sinner. I just know that I love my son. I want what is best for him. I want to be the best mother and the best example that I can be for him. I missed church today because my baby isn’t feeling good. But, as I lay here, watching my sick baby sleep, The Lord is in my heart and on my mind.

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Horticulturally Challenged

Today I bought a starter pot for herbs. Please feel free to laugh. I decided that if I can grow these herbs, then I will start trying to do something with my yard and landscape. My mother has a green thumb. She also has the greatest ideas when it comes to “landscape architecture”. I’m over here like, “I have killed three cacti.”
I have decided that now that I am a mother, maybe I will feel like nurturing these plants. Maybe there is a direct correlation between having kids and taking care of flowers. Why haven’t I ever thought about this before? Maybe the years before Cooper were like the years before I cared about plants! This is all making so much sense right now! Before Cooper, I enjoyed alcohol, sleeping late and being, for a lack of a better word, selfish. The same with the plants. Before, I didn’t want to take the time to water them, trim them or repot them. I get so excited when my son learns new things. I love watching him grow. Could it be possible that I can feel similar emotions towards flowers that I am trying to nurture along? P.S. I know nothing about flowers, plants or gardens. It’s okay though, because before I moved here, I knew nothing about horses, chickens or cows. I’m not saying I am an expert on any of them now, but at least I was able to adapt and learn.
I am going to do some research about what will grow in my yard. I may possibly attend one of those groups where a professional comes and speaks on flowers (kinda like How to Plant Flowers for Dummies). I am also going to look to friends for some advice.
I have no idea where to start on my yard. I have large ugly bushes that I want to pull out. I have vast, uninhabitable flower beds. I feel like my front yard has zero personality. I don’t want to be that house. I don’t want to look uninviting. I think the cemetery down the road has more curb appeal than my yard. I mean, when do you even plant flowers? Is this the time? How do you decide which flowers to put where? How do you get them arranged in the beds so everything looks symmetrical? How many times a week should I water? What flowers can live in shade? Do I have to use Miracle- Gro? How often? And, what in the heck is a Crepe Myrtle?
Clearly, I am horticulturally challenged. If I never post another thing about plants, that means my herb starter pot turned herb starter fail.

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This Stuff isn’t for the Faint of Heart

Yesterday marked the ending of the longest week of motherhood for me thus far. After eight months of being at home with our baby, I dipped my foot back into the working world. I accepted a job working for the newspaper in town and Monday was my first day.
After four days of being a “working mother”, I must share one of the things I have learned. The first thing I feel I must say is that single parents kick ass. I am not a single parent per say, but my husband lives in a different state. Therefore, it is just me getting up everyday at 5:00 a.m. The first thing I do is pump milk for my son. I must do this as soon as I wake up. If not, I will float away. Then, I get a shower and dry my hair. I wander to the kitchen and make a pot of decaf coffee (yes, I realize decaf coffee seems unnecessary at this point, but I suffered the withdrawals from caffeine when I first became pregnant and I do not wish to do that again). I quickly make my breakfast and inhale it. By this time, Cooper is usually waking up. I kiss him good morning, change his diaper and give him the allotted 30 minutes to drink his bottle (he needs some time to adjust in the morning). I then get him dressed and let him play while I finish getting ready. I have to repack his bag everyday. I have to make sure he has extra clothes, enough baby food, toys, pacifiers, ect. I pack myself some snacks (eating 5-6 small meals a day is tough to plan out while working). I change his diaper again. If I am lucky, he stays occupied in his carseat long enough to let me run around like a chicken with my head cut off while I gather up all our things (his bag, the breast pump, my coffee, my water, my snacks, my purse, anything that has to be mailed, my phone, oh wait…where is my phone? Okay, I found my phone). Then, I pile everything into the car and get in the driver’s seat. I am missing something. I know something is missing. What am I missing? Think Merrideth, think! THE BABY! I do not have the baby! I run inside the house and find him sitting in his carseat smiling and talking to himself in the living room. While we are still inside, I remember I haven’t given him his medicine for the day. I quickly give him said medicine and secure him in the car. By this time, I have 20 minutes to get him to the babysitter and get to work. I drop him off. I kiss him a million times between the door, handing him to the sitter and back to the door. Then, I get in the car and consider having a mental breakdown while I drive away. I do this knowing that he is happy as a lark inside, not giving me a second thought.
Single parents are the bee’s knees. This stuff isn’t for the faint of heart. I must say, if you are a single parent and you do this all the time, with multiple children, you have my respect. If you aren’t a single parent and you just happen to be the parent that gets the child (children) places on time, with a full stomach, brushed hair and matching clothes, you can be my hero too! Next week, I get to figure out how I can still fit time in to exercise.

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