I had a dentist appointment scheduled for Monday morning, so I decided to take the whole day off and enjoy a day to myself. I have a gift certificate for a massage to use, I have some shopping I'd like to do, there are books to be read, and pictures to edit. However, I did none of those things. Instead, I started converting Micheal's nursery into a bedroom.
The process reminded me very much of those last days before Michael was born when I was finishing up the nursery. Back then, the house was quiet as I folded itty bitty clothes and placed them in drawers. I had plenty of time to reflect on how my life was about to change, and wonder what my little bean was going to be like. I felt like I was crafting the next stage of my life.
This time, the house was quiet as well, a very rare occurance. I took apart the changing table attachment on the dresser, removed the CD player and lullaby CDs, and eliminated anything that I thought might pose a danger to Michael if left unsupervised. Michael is no longer my itty bitty baby. He's tall and leggy and he debates like a politician (and whines like one too). I knew the clock was ticking until I would need to pick him up, but I still had time to reflect on just how much my life has changed and to wonder what this little boy is going to become over the next few years. I loaded up his new bookcase with some of his many books and a bunch of dinosaurs. I kenw I was making the last change to his room that I'll be in charge of. The rest will all be directed by him.
It was sweet, and sad, and exciting.
In the process of rearranging the room, I decided to do some hard core cleaning as well. I pulled Michael's crib out from the wall to vacuum under it and discovered a little pink pile of throw up.
Now, if you had asked me that morning if I believed it was possible to discover a pile of mystery vomit in a house without a cat, I would have said no. The only time Michael ever spends in his room alone is when he's sleeping, and we always have a monitor on in case something happens. You know, like him getting sick.
But, there is was. A pile of puke without an explanation. And I wondered, how did it get there? I mean wouldn't Michael have cried out if he threw up in the middle of the night? Wouldn't some of it have gotten on him or the sheets? Wouldn't there be some clue about it the next day? Really, what kind of parent am I that I could miss something like this? And, just how long had it been there anyway?
So, my quiet time reflecting on motherhood came to a scretching halt as I was forced back into the reality of motherhood. There are always mysteries about our children, and some of them are pretty gross. Quiet times are rare, and even when they happen, there is always something to snap you back to the moment at hand. And finally, Bissel rocks!