As the wrappings and ribbons settle from her fabulous caterpillar birthday, I look at my daughter, sleeping on the couch, with WALL-E in one hand and EVA in the other, snuggled under her new caterpillar quilt. She is a beautiful sight. Just hours ago, she was excited to be wearing her “birthday dress” and eating cake. Now she sleeps. And dreams. Probably of caterpillars. And robots. And friends. While her mom and dad are grateful that as she turned three (and they survived), we also celebrate one year without hospitalization. One whole year. We slept in our own beds. Every night. For a year. As I reflect on the celebration that occurred at the HennHouse today, I don’t know which excited me more.
This morning, we awoke early, after going to bed late. After a power outage. Loading up the cake to be decorated elsewhere. Finding somewhere else to finish the quilt. Tim’s work calling into the wee hours. And watching my daughter fall asleep for the very last time as a two year old. Morning seemed to come a might early today. More than a might. We trudged downstairs. Sipped coffee. Tried to convince Esther-Faith that today truly is her birthday. Hung a few more decorations. Answered a text about the cake. Exercise. Check the weather. Shower. More coffee. A few rounds of “Happy Birthday” by the brothers. A few more. Some more coffee. And finally, we loaded everyone into the truck and we headed out into the ice storm. It didn’t look like a good day for travel. Or birthday parties. But I snuck a peek at my daughter coloring Mickey Mouse with my son, and I was determined to make it wonderful. For us all.
We made it to the salon about 30 minutes after my appointment time. They didn’t seem to care. I settled into the chair as Lindsey ran her fingers through my hair. “What are we doing today?” she asked. “I’m ready to donate” was my reply. I couldn’t even get out, “In memory of Eden” as a chorus of tired cheers came from the other chairs. Lindsey split my hair into two ponytails and cut them off. Each had enough hair for at least one, possibly two wigs. Isaiah captured it all on film. The ponies. The scissors. That awful first cut. I was ready for drastic change.
A health coach I consulted last summer expressed concern for the amount of anxiety I seem to carry with me wherever I go. She said that my inability to lose weight could be because my body thinks I am in crisis and is storing energy. Honestly, that sounded much better than “lazy.” And as much as I thought she was a tad, um, silly, I think she was a little right. I’m living my life waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the next illness that will land Esther-Faith in the hospital. For that one wrong turn on the soccer field that will snap Isaiah’s anklebone. Waiting for the doctors to diagnose Isaac’s chronic leg pain.
So change was on the menu this morning, by way of a haircut. And a birthday. And not vacuuming the couch before company showed up. By way of finishing a quilt five minutes before a party started. And wearing a sweater that the husband picked out instead of what I thought I “should” wear. I do care what my company thinks of my overly stained, used-to-be-white carpets and the unfinished paint job on the walls. I do care that the pictures aren’t all going to turn out ok. And I do care if the caterpillar on the cake doesn’t look like a caterpillar. But you know what, as I started to let go, I started to relax. The caterpillar DID look like “THE” caterpillar. The quilt got finished. And no one even sat on the couch anyway.
I am terribly frightened that I am not going to be able to remember all the little moments of each day that are so important. And I worry that I’m not making all of the best decisions for my kids. But today, I read the Eric Carle book, “From Head to Toe” and I bent my neck, wiggled my hips, and waved my arms with some three year olds. I didn’t get a good picture of the cake my sister painstakingly decorated for FOUR hours for my daughter. But, if you ask Esther-Faith about her birthday, she will tell you she had a caterpillar cake. And for all the arguments the last few months about turning four instead of three, I couldn’t convince my daughter this morning that she wasn’t two years old anymore.
As I finished my daily reading this morning, the verse from Proverbs “let love and faithfulness never leave you” stuck in my head. Love AND faithfulness. I can do that. At least I can try. I’ve read Proverbs. And Psalms. And all the books of the Bible lots of times, but I don’t remember a place where it says to hold on to your worries and concerns and anxiousness. I can’t recall a verse that advocates agonizing over whether or not the Lysol has been sprayed on the doorknobs and light switches today. But I do recall, “do not be anxious about anything.”
ANYTHING.
Birthdays. Birthday parties. Hospitalizations. Hair. Or what other people think. Anxiousness over nothing.
That is a drastic change.
A welcome change.
