Every Now and Again

When Todd and I were still in Bourbonnais, we heard a sermon from one of the pastors at College Church. I don't remember the pastors name. I don't remember the scripture reference and I can't even tell you which sanctuary we were in for this particular message. I don't remember the point of the message. But I do remember the pastor, over and over again, repeating that a group of people "wanted to go to Asia, tried to go to get into such-and-such, but got stuck in wherever." Funny how I can't even remember with enough clarity to publish on the web the cities or any other point in the sermon except the wanting Option #1, trying to get to Option #2, and getting stuck with Option #3.

We had a diaper malfunction the other night. It wasn't the diaper's fault. It was somehow put on wrong (sleep deprivation?) and thus, didn't realize its full potential. As such, I needed to change Cooper's sheets. I meant to do it first thing in the morning (option #1), but there was a yogurt crisis. I tried to deal with it a few hours later (option #2) but was thwarted by my youngest. And thus, I was stuck with two sleepy kids at naptime and one bed to put them in... alas, poor, unfortunate option #3. So down went Cooper in Em's bed (he'd fallen asleep in my arms on the way up the stairs). Then I had Em to sort out and in the process, Harper started fussing and needing attention. That was the point at which I decided that if life dictated Option #3, I was going to give Option #3 its biggest and best showing ever. A blanket was laid on the floor, pillow for Em was thrown down, and Baby Einstein was promptly put into the DVD player and *poof*!!! I magically had two happy girls who ended up vegging themselves to sleep.

Anyone who has been a mom for two seconds knows the guilt that inevitably comes with the title. Am I doing the best for my baby even if I don't make her food? Will my child suffer attachment issues for life if I shower and she wakes up while I'm in there? Is my little one being held enough? Am I spoiling my child by holding him too much? What if I turn him off to that for life? I had that voice in my head, taunting me with thoughts of my girls' brains turning to over-cooked spaghetti noodles as I stood there. But then, I grabbed the camera, and watched, through my lens, how sweet Em was when she pat Harper's back and told her little sister, "That's called a fish Harper. That one is a birdie. A birdie sounds like 'cheep, cheep' " and so on. By the end of the pictures, I had one and a half kids asleep, they hadn't watched more than 7 minutes of television anyways, and I decided that ever now and again, the good-enough option #3 will work out just fine.