Yesterday was Finn’s first day at GoKids, a small, tidy and personable daycare operated by GoChurch.
What you wear on the first day of school is important, you know. We decided to go with the yellow Gap onesie and matching yellow and gray striped socks.
In high school, I actually kept a clothes calendar. Yes, I would keep track of the outfits I wore on a daily basis, so as not to repeat the same one in a six month period. I’m hanging my head as I admit this ridiculousness. There are infinitely more important things to keep track of than clothing. Hmmm…I wonder what stupid things I’m keeping track of these days…
So Joey and I dropped little man off together yesterday morning, overstuffed diaper bag, a gallon of filtered water and detailed instructions on “Caring for Finn” in hand. As I read my section entitled “Spina Bifida Concerns” aloud to them, I realized that no child should be projectile vomiting, having dry diapers, crying uncontrollably or running a fever. The ladies were sweet and held him like it wasn’t their first rodeo.
I couldn’t help myself…I snuck in on my lunch break to check on Finn.
You know you love someone when you’ll drive across town on your lunch break to hold them for ten minutes.
We’re sad that he came home with a stuffy nose. Had to dust off the ole’ Snotsucker and use it throughout last night. And he apparently took five naps yesterday, four more than usual. Maybe the bright colors, new toys and seven other infants wore him out.
Daycare isn’t my first choice for Finn, but I’m thankful we found a place we feel at peace leaving him…at least for now. Stay tuned.
my star in stripes
Nana and Papa Rosell
Nana and Papa Armstrong
We celebrated our nation’s independence at the steamy, yet beautiful Greenleaf State Park. Though we prefer tenting, it’s July in Oklahoma and sleeping bags aren’t safe for infants. So we stayed in a rustic stonewalled cabin with my parents. Joey’s parents joined us for the day too. Such fun!
Around 1:30 in the middle of last night I heard plastic bags rustling. Startled, I drowsily poked Joey in the stomach, softly at first then harder as I came out of my slumber. Joey used his phone’s flashlight to prove there was nothing to be afraid of, but caught a pair of beady eyes in the trashcan by our bed. A large mouse (not the cute tiny kind) was trying desperately to escape. So that terd next to Joey’s toothbrush yesterday was mouse poop! Acting fast, Joey grabbed the plastic liner and tied it in a knot, trapping the monster inside. Lifting it out, he realized there was another mouse inside the trashcan. It seemed like ten minutes while Joey was deciding what to do next, but he finally (and heroically) ran out the front door in his undies, flinging one mouse into the woods and smashing the other inside the bag. Dis.gus.ting.
Ironically, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Same group of people, same type of cabin, one fall evening a few years ago we heard rustling in the kitchen. Dad flipped his headlamp to a bloody glow and said, “Code red!” before venturing out to find the mouse in his underwear. We’re fans of Fievel, Mighty Mouse, Ratatouille, Reepicheep and Despereaux just as much as any elementary schooler, but in real life, they are gross. Next vacation it’s a tent or a hotel.
Of late, when I’m not busy with work or Finn or friends or family or cooking or sleeping, I’ve been sad. Sad for Finn and fearful of his future. The Lord is helping me through this with extravagant love and gentle discipline. But I’m still sad. I think that’s okay for now.
I heard this poem over the weekend and took encouragement from it. Hope ye’ do too. (I’m only sharing the middle three stanzas that I like best. Sorry, Mr. William Cowper.)
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.