Confession... I'm deciding Eli's favorite sport for him.

I always said that I wouldn't pressure Eli to do things just because I want him to.  You know, like play a particular instrument or participate in a certain sport.  I felt very strongly that those choices should be his.  I still feel that way.  I won't force my desires on him, or any other future children, but will leave him (them) to make their own decisions.

Except..... I really REALLY want him to play baseball.  

I didn't even realize this was a hope and dream of mine until a Facebook friend (and former student's parent) posted pictures of Cove Creek.  I love Love LOVE me some spring baseball at Cove Creek y'all.  I'm not sure what it is, but there's something about spending a spring day in the bleachers, overlooking the baseball field, listening to those silly songs kids sing in the dugouts.  There, the nachos and hamburgers taste better, and eating them doesn't induce the same amount of guilt as having the same foods somewhere else.  And let's not even get started on how stinkin cute a little boy looks in a baseball uniform.  

I've always hoped that our kiddos would play a sport (if they want to), as one of my biggest regrets is NOT.  I decided in 9th grade that I wanted to play volleyball, but at that point, the people going out for the team had been playing together for years, and I was just a girl who enjoyed the unit in P.E.  I was a chicken and never even tried out.  I always wished I'd played some sport, and I like to think Eli will.

But, let's be honest - despite my love for NFL (and even more so for college football) the sport kind of scares me.  It's not exactly the safest, and the thought of Eli getting tackled sends chills up my mama spine.  It'd be pretty exciting if he were good and actually got to play some college ball one day, but I feel like those chances aren't as good as the chance of him getting seriously hurt.  So, I'd kind of like to cross that one off of the list (and pray that Eli never asks to put it back on).  Then there's soccer, which, unfortunately I find terribly, terribly boring to watch.  I suppose if Eli asks to play I'll rejoice that he didn't request football, but it's still not my top choice.

I could settle for basketball.  Maybe Eli will continue to stay above the curve height wise and be tall like his Daddy.  I can get into a basketball game a heck of a lot easier than a soccer one, and there are still bleachers (albeit not outside in the warm spring sun).  So that could be a compromise.

But really, I've kind of got my heart set on baseball.  (To the extent that when looking for a little "basket" for Eli's first Easter egg hunt this weekend, I almost got the plush baseball one, you know, to steer things in my direction.  However, the hubs convinced me that this wasn't my call to make and that was a little ridiculous.  Le sigh).  

We've got a while before he figures this out, so we'll see what happens.  It'll be my luck that he'll want football in the fall and soccer in the spring.  Which, I suppose means we'll have to keep having babies.  Eventually one of them will want to play baseball (or softball).  Right?

Eli's first fall.... another life lesson.

Well, it happened:  Eli had his first (of what I am sure will be many, but pray will be few) busted lip.  He's fallen or bumped a body part numerous times, but this was the very first incident that resulted in blood.

We were outside, about to get in the car, and he was toddling around the blacktop, having a blast.  He's been walking for a little over a month, and absolutely loves being down, out of our arms, exploring.  He's recently gotten really good at walking outside - even on uneven ground.  Well, this time he was holding a cup in his hands, and his mouth, instead of hands, broke his fall.  He started crying and I rushed over, deeply saddened to find blood on my sweet boy's mouth.  As he reached his hands up, I scooped him up and hugged him tightly in my arms.  I told him "Momma's here.  It's all right"

Now, let me be clear - this was not a traumatic fall.  Eli probably cried for less than 60 seconds.  A little cuddle and wipe of the mouth later, he was fine - a scrape on his lip, but otherwise, no worse for the wear.

It was I, not Eli, who was most bothered by the fall.  My first reaction (which now seems so silly) was "JP, he's bleeding, what do we do?".  Haha.  I'm not a rocket scientist, but I have worked with children for the past 9 years, and I've dealt with plenty a scrape and cut (and much worse - both a broken arm and broken leg).  As a teacher and childcare program supervisor, I've been the one "in charge" and handled many situation with ease and grace.  However, something about seeing my child hurt and bleeding struck a different chord in my mama heart.  Then, once it was dealt with, I just wanted to hold him.  I felt so badly that he had experienced pain and wanted to wipe it all away.

Of course, I can't.  I can't (and won't) coddle him, and prevent him from running around and experiencing life and the world around him.  I can't shield him from every single thing that could possibly cause pain (whether physical or emotional).  He will get hurt at times.

And, as much as I can, I will do what I did on Saturday.  I will pick him back up, try as best I can to make the pain go away, and let him know how much I love him.

And (because I'm a thinker), I contemplated how similar it is with God.  How it must hurt him deeply to see us go running off, take a fall and get hurt.  How He must hate to see us cry and bleed from a cut or scrape we face in life.  And how, like a loving parent, He comes to us in our time of need, longing to see us reach our hands to him so that He can take us in his arms and let us know that it's going to be alright.  That He's there.

Good days and bad days...

Most days, I LOVE being at home with Eli.  I've written numerous posts about how I think I have the most wonderful "job" in the whole world and I don't hesitate to share the all the sweet stuff he does on here, or Facebook (or, let's be honest, both).  I also try not to post too much of the bad.  I *try* not to mention the sleepless nights, or nasty diapers, or clingy/fussy times too much, because I really don't want to complain.  I feel genuinely blessed by my son, and I love him dearly.  I also think being negative about the challenges tends to shift the attitude of my heart, and I don't want to do that.  I want to choose joy, even on difficult days.  However, I sometimes feel the need to be real.  I have friends who tell me how much they'd love to be home, and how wonderful it would be.  (I think my youngest sister is living in a fantasy where I eat bonbons and shop all the time and have a glorious social life.  I'll let you know when she wakes up.  I sometimes think people hold up staying home as a situation where "the grass is always beautifully green and perfectly cut".  I think they do this because that is precisely what I did.

The truth is, staying home (while a blessing, and something I wouldn't trade for the world), is work.  It is hard work, and there are difficult days.  And today, my friends, is one of them.

Last night, Eli woke up at 2:30am.  This was a bit out of character for him, but I was gone at bedtime, so I nursed him about an hour and a half before he went down, which, JP said, wasn't super smooth.  I thought maybe that was throwing him off, so I nursed him.  Then, he was up again at 4, this time screaming unconsolably until approximately 5:30.  JP and I took turns tending to him, let him cry a bit, and tried all we could do to calm him down.  Finally, by 6:00, we were all back to sleep.

Then, Eli slept until 10:15.  That might sound glorious, except that today was one of just two days we had plans during the day, and I was oh so looking forward to get out of the house.  Unfortunately, BSF started at 9:30 - so we missed it.  I was grumpy about my lack of sleep and my plans falling through before my feet even hit the floor.  And it only got worse.

Eli has been especially difficult about food again lately.  I feel like I have been in the kitchen as much as a chef trying to make healthy options for him to eat, but he's been exceptionally picky.  This morning I made oatmeal.  He wouldn't touch it (just as he wouldn't touch the broccoli or chili I made Monday, or even the yogurt he had yesterday).  He spit it out and tried to throw the spoon.  All he'd eat was a banana and then he fussed all. morning. long for a snack.  Even after he'd been given snacks.

He has a terrible, terrible diaper rash, so changes have been pretty miserable too.  (Yep, that's right, so far sleep issues, eating issues, and diaper issues).  As I was changing the second poop of the day, he squirmed and wrangled like a worm, causing me to get poop all over my hand.  Lovely.

When I thought of my husband, who was able to ride in his car to school, with either the radio on or blissful peace and quiet, I was jealous.  When I thought about the fact that he'd showered today, and hadn't spent his time cooking and cleaning, I was envious.  When I scarfed down food in between picking up carrots off the floor, and wiping up ejected oatmeal, I struggled.

Being at home with Eli is a blessing.  It is one I am incredibly thankful for.  There are days where we have so much fun together and with friends I can't believe that I get to do this all the time.  And then, there are days like today.  I know this seems like a bit of a whining/complaining post, and I suppose, it is.  But I don't write it to whine or complain.  I write it to be real, and honest, and so that people know I'm not little miss perfect mom (in case anyone was actually under that illusion in the first place).  I write it because I sometimes struggle when I think about moms who seem to have it all together, who appear to have perfect, peaceful families - like something out of a book or movie.  I write this because, even though I wish no ill-will on anyone, there is something comforting in knowing that we all have days like this - and that's ok.

No matter what our profession, paid or unpaid, we all have good and bad days.  Today has been a bad one so far.  At least it's in the minority :)