MuellerMommyAdventures

*love- supporting the protagonist. Frequenting coffee shops is an established habit. Lately, it’s included a little pal—my Felicity baby. Sometimes she insists that bouncing must happen or else crying will happen. I bounce her and people watch. Four teenagers sit against a window. The boy has his arm possessively draped around the shoulders of the leggy girl in the shorts. A woman by herself attempts to use her phone. She goes up to various tables and makes observations about their lives. She smiles a lot. A girl with a pretty face and textured hair sits focused on her studying. A college couple sits in the high metal chairs. She speaks about ethnic diversity and the blond haired boy listens with eyes alert. They lean in just far enough to show they are not a couple yet. A million wishes, wants, prayers and thoughts must radiate from the coffee shop. Main characters plodding along their own plot lines. And I bounce my baby, and I also march along my sub-conscious starring r

Bringing Felicity into the world included a lot of firsts—First epidural, first IV, first drive while in labor, and of course, first baby. Another first was a strange, determined, protective emotion that hit in the wee hours of the morning, the night after I gave birth. The high and excitement of meeting Felicity and introducing her to family and friends throughout day had evaporated. My husband was home building the crib since Felicity made her advent early. He promised to return quickly. Night had fallen and I lay in the sometimes comfortable, sometimes lumpy and sticky hospital bed. As I held Felicity in one arm, I faded into an exhausted sleep. That’s when the lights turned on and a new nurse stepped into the room. Pills. I needed to take pills… she wanted to weigh the baby…the baby was sleeping. Incoherent thoughts tried to focus on the interruption. Why? Why was she here? Her manner was a combination of practical no-nonsense and hesitancy at waking the sleeping new mom

 All the parenting books and online articles suggest that girls, age five weeks, do not have enough self-awareness to exhibit stubbornness. But this week I heard a new sound come out of my daughter. It was high-pitched and it sounded suspiciously like a determined scream. “No mama. I must have food now. Now. Now.” or “I can’t believe you are not picking me up immediately.” Felicity tended towards a soporific haze for her first couple weeks, so hearing that first yelp was a surprise. My docile infant has a voice. This afternoon my mom told me that I’m stubborn. It’s a reoccurring family descriptor. Of course my rejoinder is, “I’m not stubborn. I just have strong convictions.” A truth I stubbornly hold, because like many people, I repurpose my faults into words connoting virtue. Nobody likes a stubborn person, but everybody admires a person of strong conviction. I want to be a river—a metaphor that shows a partial picture—mobile and fluid like water, but going in a straight cou

Felicity, age four days old, wearing a headband and looking oh so cute made her first trip to church. Naturally, Nathan and I went too. Stepping inside and settling down in the chairs at the back, Felicity decided it was time to eat. Now.  Yes, I had a beautiful nursing shawl. Yes, I’d decided to nurse. Yes, I didn’t want to stay in the house for the entirety of her first year. But really, she wanted food now? In public? There are certain milestones in a person’s life: going to kindergarten, buying a car, graduating college, a first kiss, the lead part in a musical… and, if you are a mom, the first nurse in public. I’m not usually the type to become easily embarrassed, but Felicity and I weren’t good at nursing yet. Nursing is like learning a team sport. Both parties are clumsy. They need to sync with each other while simultaneously learning a new skill. For the baby, she has to make her little lips actually suck. It helps if it’s the right place. For the mom, it’s all a

My mom tells me that little Leilani cried her first six months of life and then began to crawl and the crying ceased. She said I just wanted to go places and my baby body inhibited me. Since learning what hands and knees were good for, going places and doing things has been standard operating procedure for me. Energy in abundance and curiosity has enlivened me. And it’s been fun—The read books when one wants, stay up late, travel the world, spend money without thinking, talk to friends whenever, carefree, self-centered, child to adult type of fun. Now the fun is different, because I am a wife and mother. Getting married and having Felicity are the two best things that ever happened in my life, but with those wonderful happenings, I discovered burden bearing in a way never previously experienced. Marriage is said to be sanctifying. The same can be said for motherhood, because in these two experiences an overwhelming desire for the good of one’s husband and daughter becomes

A small mewling breaks into my night’s sleep. Thankfully, I sleep lighter than was my wont growing up. If I roll over to steal a few more winks, the mewling turns into small cries and groggily I attempt to open my sleep soaked eyes. Food. Felicity needs food. The thoughts fall through my brain. Her little arms flail helplessly in her monkey bassinet and her tiny feet kick at her blanket. If her cries could be translated I’m sure they would consist in “Mommy, please pick me up. I’m hungry.” Or the imperative, “Feed me now!” Pulling myself up, I bend down and pick her up.   The only light turned on is the light above the stove. It casts a faint glow into our bedroom. Holding her I take her to the front room and sit in the glider and rock. I’m sleepy, but I try to hold the moment— “Don’t blink it goes so fast,” people say. I’m trying not to blink, but my eyes are so sleepy. “Let’s pray,” I tell her. Her lips smack and her eyes open and close. She doesn’t know what prayer