Be still my heart

Jan 18

Thank goodness for Starbucks. There is at least one good thing about my morning. What an adventure… that left me feeling many things. At the very least, insecure. I had decided that it would be a very good thing to get Natty involved in a play-group that didn’t require my presence. Aside from the obvious registration cost, it came at a great cost, but one that I was willing to pay on everyone’s behalf. It would likely cost Isaac his morning nap—and likely the rest of his (and mine) day since he would be so out of sorts, but that was ok. It was important for Natty. It would cost me the anguish of going to a women’s bible study. An activity that I am not quite resolved to do yet. (more about that later) But that was ok, it was important for Natty. So, we got all ready on time, packed up in the car, and yes, even up to the church in time (for interests sake: not our old church). I brought both boys in the doors, and immediately my self-doubt and insecurities kicked in. I was to go with a friend that morning, but she had an appointment she couldn’t miss, so I was all on my own in a new place filled with strange faces. Again, I’m normally not so insecure that a situation like that is my undoing, but today, it was. I went down to the room where Natty would stay and he heard other crying little people who wanted their mothers and immediately he began to cry these huge, splashy tears. I’ve been a good mom all his life with the idea of “Buck up. It’s good for you,” but I was doubting it myself at this point. I did the responsible thing and left him with a nice older woman who held on to him and sang to him as I walked away. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. I walked out to the main room where the morning’s session was taking place. The lady on the ol’ mic was explaining how the morning would work. Apparently it was the morning where you learn some ideas on how to throw a themed party for all of your friends. (Ideally, this is very intriguing and enticing, but the reality of it just isn’t in the scope of my world.) There were 10 tables all done up, each in a different theme. There were “hostesses” at each table—some wearing evening gowns, some in pjs… I hope you get the picture. We were to draw a number and that would be the table number where we started the rotation of spending TEN MINUTES at each table jotting down ideas to take home and try. Sweet Marie! You’ve got to be kidding me. It stretched out before me like 10 sentences from hell itself. I looked at Isaac, listened to Natty’s screams that made their way down the hall and through the closed double doors to my ears, looked at the 10 hellish sentences laid out so expertly before me, and decided that I felt the same way that Natty did, it’s just that I had to do a better job of masking my feelings. It’s just what’s expected when you’re an adult. Since no one had come up to me and talked to me, I had nothing vested in the production. It was still an easy escape. I went to the toddler room, scooped up a huddling-by-the-door, tear-stained Natty, and headed back out to the car, grateful boy in each hand. I think his heart and mine were feeling quite the same as we hit the fresh air—despite the 31 years that separates us. I realize that it might be perceived as the cowards’ way out. That I should have stayed and tried to make the best of it, since it was a commitment I made. That I should foster independence in Natty so that he can function without me. That I should be a bit more friendly and outgoing and try to reach out to other people instead of waiting for them to reach out to me. That I should be open to new ideas—I just might learn something fun. That I shouldn’t be so jaded about being in a church. But, alas, although I know all those things to be true, I didn’t feel all those things enough to keep me there. I realize there’s next week to deal with, when my friend is back to go with me and expecting my company. I would like to think that I’ll do much better next week, but I don’t know how Natty will do. Seeing him melt down and look at me like I was betraying him as I left him in the room was more than I was ready to handle. Will I be ready for it next week? Who knows. Guess I’ll just try it again and see. The good part was going through the Starbucks drive-thru on the way home and getting a vanilla latte to soothe my frazzled nerves. I wasn’t completely placated, but it sure tasted good! So, we're home, safe and somewhat sound. What a freakin' freak show.