Suburban Goddess

“What is THAT?”

“I don’t know… It looks like a it might have been a booger….”

When I picked up the phone, the normally calm voice on the other end had a different tone, one of anxiousness… one of frustration… my heart immediately went out, wanting to offer some kind of comfort, some kind of solace from the pain.

As the story poured out, I felt a sudden sense of terror… I felt my own selfishness taking over… I closed my eyes and fought to keep my breathing even. This is not my fight; I had to be supportive. I had to be a good friend. But the voice in the back of my head was screaming, “What about me???” I forced my own selfishness aside. The voice needed me. I could hear it. I prayed for strength, and somehow found it…

As the conversation dwindled to near silence, I was left speechless. I did not know what to say… I was scared to say anything, this fragile silence hanging between us… and then came the question, the question I was terrified to answer… the question that makes everything real, the question that makes it impossible to run…

I answered quietly, and with complete honesty. And the response made me close my eyes, my hand over my mouth… my heart beat uncontrollably as the tears fell…

This post is difficult for me, because it opens up a part of me to the entire world that leaves me frighteningly vulnerable. But it was an event so long in coming, so monumental in my life, that I need to write about it.

On Sunday, I was baptized again.

Many people have pointed out, including the pastor, that by simply immersing myself in water that I was not “saved.” I laughed when he told me that; of course I didn’t believe all of my transgressions of the past would be washed away so easily. But the step back into the church has changed my life in ways I cannot begin to describe.

I wrote about an experience a couple of months ago where I broke down… I can’t describe what happened to me that day, other than God stepped into my life, picked me up and said, “Enough already. Trust me.” It has taken an enormous amount of faith to let go and put my existence in a higher power.

The moment I did, everything changed.

There are people in my life who have lead me down this path, the right path, the most influential being my friend M… she showed me that it’s possible to be a Christian without being horribly obnoxious. You live with a quiet dignity. You live a life that is righteous, but not judgmental. And above all, you truly LIVE, taking the gifts you were given and giving them back to help others. It is a powerful and overwhelming feeling, this feeling of giving back… and once you start, you become addicted to it. Not because you want people to know your name, but because you know that somehow in this occasionally bleak existence, you CAN make a difference.

The love in a child’s smile… the joy in a mother’s tears… the bittersweet sadness in death and the amazing power of pure grace… it all touches me deeper than ever before. I was baptized to proclaim my renewed faith in God… and as I fell back into the water on the coldest day in Texas this year, I felt nothing but a resounding warmth.

…you realize that instead of putting the bowl you were carrying in the DISHWASHER, you put it in the WASHING MACHINE. Only you don’t find it until AFTER you’ve run the washing machine…
Either way, it’s clean. Does it really matter? I mean, really?

Lately, Alex seems to be obsessed with grabbing her crotch. It started while she was potty training; it was a pretty accurate sign that she had to go. But now, she can’t seem to stop. I was rather concerned about it, so I called her pediatrician. She assured me that it was a completely normal phase, and compared it to the same sensation that adults feel when they do the same.

I know this was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn’t. No where in the parenting books is there a chapter on “My Kid Can’t Keep Their Hands Off Their Private Parts.” I mean, it would have been nice to at least have a small warning. I can deal with it at home, but when we’re out & about, it’s kind of embarassing… to make matters worse, when I tell her to stop, she returns with, “NO MOMMY! I NOT TOUCHING MY TEE TAA,” in a sing-song voice while dancing around. It might as well be one of her night-night songs.
Help.

There comes a point where something snaps. Deadlines press on you with an enormous weight, people lean on you, there’s a constant feeling of pressure… you either have to buckle under the weight, or you just have to let go.

If you find yourself in this situation, I offer this solution; 90′s music. Because it’s really hard to be stressed when you’re listening to Gerardo belt out “Rico Suave.” Or Color Me Badd. Or Lucas (with the lid off.)

Okay, this will probably piss a lot of people off, who will tell me what a bad mother I am, but it freaked me out and we all know that I am not ashamed to admit my parenting mistakes to the entire planet. Maybe the universe, if aliens get the Internet.

Anyway, after I killed the roach the other night, I left the Elmo book on top of him. YES, a GOOD mother would have disposed of the bug IMMEDIATELY, but you do not understand my completely irrational fear of these stupid bugs… it was hard enough to KILL him… and since I thought he was DEAD, he proposed no immediate threat to my child. So I left the body, content to muster up the strength to flush it in the morning.

The next morning, I walked into her room with a very large wad of toilet paper (because if I feel ANY part of his crunchy little body, I might as well pick him up bare-handed… which will NEVER happen). I cringed as I lifted the book, preparing myself for the mental image of the little monster…. but it wasn’t there! I flipped the book over, expecting to see a smushed roach on Elmo’s big nose, but nothing!

I don’t know what freaked me out more; the fact that it wasn’t there, the fact that that meant it was crawling around somewhere, or the fact that I left this creature in my poor daughter’s presence before leaving her all alone that evening…. I was so freaked out by it, that I told D about it…

“Did you hear it go pop?”

“EEEWWW! NO!”

“Well, then you should know you didn’t kill it!”

Indeed… now I’m haunted by an image of a Zombified Roach, dragging his mangled legs behind him as he crawls up the side of my bed as I sleep unaware… a bottle of Febreze in tow….

“Do you miss me yet?”

“I missed you the moment you walked out of the door.”

I’m taking the “One Month To Live” challenge with my church; it challenges you to live each day as if you’re only going to be here for a month to help you get your priorities straight. I’m about a week & a half in now…. and it is HARD.

If I TRULY only had a month to live, my very first priority would be to spend as much time as I could with my daughter… I would do the best I could to put my finances in order so that she’d be taken care of… but I’d fret over the fact that custody would go to her father. Not that he’s not a great dad; I know he loves her more than anything, but I know that faith & a belief in God would NOT be part of her life.

That really bothers me.

I also know that his inability to confront anything remotely emotional, and his inability to think beyond his own sphere would leave her with a lot of questions about who her mother truly was… and if I didn’t chronicle my thoughts, feelings & love for her in some way, she would never know me.

That REALLY bothers me.

Part of the reason I started this blog is so I could have a record of my life for my daughter, so she would know my inner most thoughts and fears in my own words. It’s only recently in the past few years that I’ve come to know my own mother… and I never took the opportunities I had to learn from my grandparents… and I want to take advantage of the time I have left in my life to truly KNOW those that I love, and let them know that all the things they’ve done for me meant so much, even when I didn’t express my gratitude.

I’m sure before the month is over I’ll have quite a few more epiphanies; when you really start to focus on the things you SHOULD be doing, you wonder why you’re worrying about all the insignificant crap you’re worrying about.

I have realized with true and stunning clarity that I have absolutely no control over my situation. None whatsoever.

Quite honestly, that drives me crazy.

I refuse to be doomed to a “reactive” life…