MuellerMommyAdventures

“Mom, I’d say there is a sixty percent chance that I’m going into labor tonight.” I felt awful as I lay on the bed in my cozy Texas house talking to my mom who was driving down a California freeway with my dad and my college roommate and her husband. It was fifteen days before Gabriel’s due by date, and I felt… off. The energy that sustained me most of my pregnancy, allowing me to run, teach, and keep up with Felicity, had disappeared. Even with the litany of tasks to accomplish I just wanted to lay in bed—my stomach was queasy. Our unfinished remodel of the children’s room, the rehearsal in anticipation of my students’ state competition, my own baby shower, and prep to take leave from teaching American lit marched through my mind as I considered the real possibility that Gabriel was coming sooner rather than later. I wasn’t sure that I was ready. That Saturday night, after I spoke to my mom, the contractions stopped. I felt…almost normal. Sunday I rested and wondered and went to

“All the world is a stage and the men and women merely players”             Several of my high-school students sat around as we brainstormed ways to move large pieces of lumber and I decided who to take with me on a venue visit.             “I used to think people who wanted mini-vans were old,” I told my students. “Now I want one.” One girl, curly-haired and lively looked at me with a, “If you want a mini-van, then you are old expression.”   I paused. Thinking about arguments as to why I was still a cool, young teacher: a bigger car would allow me to take them all venue viewing; I might want to pick people up from the airport; and a road trip to California must happen. But regardless of the litany of thoughts processing through my mind, it was true. I’d arrived into my thirties, about twice the age and life experience of my students.  It’s no wonder they think I’m old.             ** My little girl is two—and every day more opinions, thoughts, and desires pou

It was all about the car seat, the baby car seat. You know the type—the ones new moms or dads hold on one arm while transporting a sleeping baby? The ones that rock and have flexible sun shades? A few months ago, my two-year-old graduated out of her portable car seat. She didn’t grow out of her baby car seat, she’d just finally made the weight requirements necessary for the front facing chair. The transition happened without a hitch, she happily took to her new ride…until today. One of the perks of being so small is that the baby car seat is her back-up. Today she needed her back-up seat for a friend to drop her off. So, I packed her baby car seat into the car next to her big girl’s seat and went back into the house to gather a few more belongings for our trip to my friend’s house. When I walked back to the car, there sat Felicity, happily smiling and cozily ensconced in her baby car seat. Naturally, expecting reason from my two-year-old, I told her she needed to sit in her bi

  Yesterday, Felicity and I had a late lunch by the river. I sat eating my gyro and she stood pointing out the squirrels and birds, enacting a slow dance towards the animals and back to me. “Squiwell,” she said. “Burd,” she said. Time stretched forever. How is that time can both stretch forever so that the moments pass one sleepy point at a time, and yet they go so fast? —my last post was in September. Felicity is now twenty months old. Her words are coming, rapidly and more distinct. Words hold power. Today, we woke up to discover our water heater broke. I used my words to upbraid a poor, home warranty customer service representative for telling me, “Hot water is a convenience. We will not fix it until Monday. It’s not an emergency.” With righteous anger, I detailed how this action showed they only want profit. How dare they deny me, my favorite modern convenience? In a moment, thirty minutes had passed in heated conversation, but the water in our house rema