How Many Children?

A week ago, I had a striking dream.
Michael and Ender and I met up with a version of Karen Thomas at a bus stop. She had come from California to bring my "second child" back to me; somehow, we had been unable to care for him when he was born. She held him in a boxy shopping back padded with blankets. For a moment I felt critical of such treatment of my own baby, but I realized how grateful I should be that she took care of him at all. As I peeked in the bag and pulled my child out to embrace him, I tried not to feel the pain of having left him. Would he never think of me as his mother? Would he never feel able to fully trust anyone? Would he know love? I took him to a room our family had stayed in the night before. His hair was slightly darker, slightly longer than Ender's. Though this would be unrealistic in life, his eyes were a mossy brown. Those eyes sparkled as I held him up. I knew that look: love. My baby knew somehow that I loved him, that I was his very own mother, and he was mine. How could there be that much love in my little baby who had hardly known me? I determined to give him all the attention he would need, to let him sleep between Michael and me so he would know he was not alone. As I gazed at this loving child, I woke up.
The room was light from the snow outside. I sat up and looked around. Where was he? I have two children! Where is he?! He's gone! He's gone!!! I lost him! Where's my son! He's not here, he's gone! I've lost him! I can't find him! I ran to the bathroom and prayed--"Don't I have two children? Heavenly Father, how many do I have? I can't find him..."
It makes me weep to remember the loss. It makes me bawl. I loved him.
I finally, finally remembered by trying to name my children that I have Ender. My one, sweet son.
You can imagine a lot of pondering and praying followed this experience. I know I'm not pregnant (and this time that knowledge even brought some disappointment). Most of my thoughts have not changed, but it is as if a window has opened to my future, and I see a little more than I used to.

Twenty One

After two weeks or so of following my goals, I noticed that each time I excelled in one thing, another thing dropped. I exercised a full week without fail, but the house got messier and messier. When I finally cleaned, I missed a couple days of exercise. When I began cooking meals regularly, I didn't do so well with the cleaning. I didn't feel angry at myself, and I knew I was doing fine. But that little feeling whispering around in my mind brought my mood lower. These things were simple--and I wouldn't even call myself the busiest woman--and I still couldn't do them consistently. Why couldn't I manage to exercise in the morning, cook meals, and clean up after myself?
While driving home from Megan's after helping her with Audrey and doing a little yoga, I pondered gently. Maybe it was the atmosphere in the car from listening to Cranberries' "21" that did it: I abruptly started to cry. And because I felt kind toward myself, I just let it go. It only lasted probably four seconds. The kind of cry that just happens sometimes. I am a girl, anyway! I felt a lot better and just put the last few weeks behind myself and knew I could start again. Announcement: I have exercised at least 3 times a week since I started on the first Monday of this month! Except for perhaps 3 of those workouts, they have been early in the morning! Now even at 5:30AM! I have managed to put meals together each day! And I have recognized those pivotal moments where I could decide to continue reading or clean up the little mess on the couch or unload the dishwasher--and I have been choosing the right!
I'm so glad that I have had so little stress this month in achieving my goals. At first, sadly, the worst days were Sundays because I felt so anxious to get there on time (and it hardly happened). Michael prayed for me one evening that I'd be able to enjoy a relaxing, calm Sabbath. Just remembering his prayer the next morning helped me to feel at peace even when I had little time to get ready.
It might have been the same drive home while listening to Cranberries that I spun a donut. No cars were too close around me, and I simultaneously laughed and prayed. I spun 180 and just had to grin at my foolishness for not slowing down carefully before the turn. It was kind of fun! But I had to seriously consider my driving; I talked to Mom just days before, and she commented offhandishly that she no longer worried about her daughters with children, because that makes us better drivers. I completely agreed. But after driving Michael back from the seminary, he breathed a sigh of relief at home and said he'd been praying the whole time! What?! He must have been joking! But no, he was a little worried that I was driving too fast. Well, I figured out that I really do drive carefully when it's just me in the car, but being with him automatically gives me a sense of safety (even invincibility). I forget then to be careful. Sweet, I know, but it's true. So I made the conscious effort the next day to drive like a smart grandma. ;) It's necessary with all the snow and ice, albeit a tad annoying when people follow too close and make me feel like I have to go fast. It actually makes me miss Atlanta highways for the thrill of having to go supersonic fast to avoid accidents. That's weird, isn't it.
I'm loving Rexburg in new ways this winter. Last winter, I was pregnant. Different story. The winter before that I was a freshman new to not only the school but the vicious, blustery winters. I remember biking downhill on a bike WITHOUT GLOVES. I just forgot them. The bike picked up more and more speed and the wind gnawed through my skin till surely it would peel back and flap from the bones! It kept my fingers from being saved by merciful numbness! When I finally reached the other side of campus for my art class, I went straight to the sink and stayed there nearly the entire period trying to revive my knuckles' mobility. I vowed to always dress for the weather, even if it meant sacrificing style. By doing that this winter, I find poetic delight in the glittery snowflakes and white dunes filling yards. I have felt bitter only once--when the cold was bitter. BITTER COLD. -22 COLD. And of course, I was outside at 5:30AM trying to scrape a glaze of frost off the car. I pulled the hood of my sweater around my face till only my eyes were showing, and my EYEBALLS were cold! Definitely booger-freezing weather. I hated it. I hunched my shoulders and chattered my teeth uncontrollably all the way to the gym (sure it's closeby, but it was still painful). I stayed in side the rest of the day, cozy with my book and fireplace! Nothing was going to budge me from my comfort!
Ender and I are dancing to Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy." I have been playing with my little boy more lately! Yesterday we cuddled in bed while he drank his bottle and I read a book, eating potato chips. Mmmm! I read a lot now, and I think it has boosted my sanity quite a lot. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I like books from the library's Young Adult section more than most others. I do know the importance of reading classics and history and nonfiction, and I have a very cultured background of reading. But those YA books are fun...I even read one about a fifth grader and enjoyed it. Why not? I hope I never forget what it felt like to be a kid. I hope all the awesome memories never become dull. Those emotions of childhood and inbetween then and adulthood are so vivid and valuable to me!
I've been finding my favorite songs this month--I have always loved the music my older siblings listened to because I idolized my brothers and sisters. So it's kind of funny to me that my list of favorite songs includes tons of 80s and 90s! I created a playlist for myself that has only my very favorite songs (to be added to gradually), and it's such a great feeling to have a no-fail collection of music! I guess other people have been compiling theirs for all their lives, but I just barely have! I love it! No song I want to skip over. Ahhhh.

Gentleness

Just a quick note, really.
I've been blessed with gentleness towards myself. I have felt very guided in my efforts of keeping the goals I set for myself. As I considered how ready I was to begin adding another to my attempts, I knew just how much to expect. And if I didn't exactly meet those expectations, it would be okay. It honestly would.
And for example, I've been sick with a mild flu today. I missed my workout badly, reminding myself that sick people don't exercise. But I smiled to myself, too, and knew that I was doing fine. I stayed in bed all but maybe two hours of the day (which were spent on the couch). The aches are finally subsiding--now that it's time to go back to bed--and I'm hopeful I will feel better tomorrow. We'll see how I feel when the alarm goes off.
I'm glad, though. I feel so good and calm about the person I'm being every day. I'm really trying and at the same time I'm doing so without hurting myself. A nice (and big) change for me.
Happy New Year indeed!