Leaving Oz

Simple Pleasures

After the birth of my first born I joined a local mom’s group.  During an icebreaker at the beginning of a meeting we were asked to divide ourselves into one of four groups based on our answer to a simple question.  The question posed was, what gift would you want your husband to give you?  A) jewelry B) time alone C) a vacation D) a massage.  I promptly scooted to the A group.  I assumed it would be a popular choice –but I was truly surprised when I turned around to see a very large group forming of women who just wanted to be alone. 

Fast forward my life to the present and now time alone sounds pretty appealing to me.  I am still in the days where all my cupboards and drawers have safety locks on them  and I drop exhaustedly into bed many nights thankful to God that my adventurous children are still alive despite trying to eat Gramma’s humble houseplant that Poison Control identified as toxic or seeing my child, who was a moment ago behind the couch, now wide-eyed on the patio as his legs are on top of jagged glass in the window he just fell through.  Life as I know it is very eventful.  Maybe that is why I get so jazzed about things that simplify what I do.

During a recent playdate I offered some homemade ginger molasses cookies to my friend and her three children.  She declined.  I responded in my most winsome voice, “They are homemade.”  She said, “No they are not! They are too perfect to be homemade.”  To her surprise Skylar told her we had made the cookies that week.  She wanted to know how the cookies came out looking exactly the same.  A good ole ice cream scoop I told her.  My ice cream scoop not only scoops ice cream but cookie dough, perfect portions of batter into muffin tins and for you Danes- ableskiever (and for you non-Danes it is like a mini jelly filled donut). I also use it to make oatmeal sundaes for breakfast.  Who wouldn’t eat oatmeal if it was served to you in a sundae glass with lots of yummy toppings to choose?  Such a simple household gadget but it has made my life a bit easier.

It's Not Easy, But I'm Not Alone

I cried, just outside the hospital, the silent kind with tears coming down my cheeks so I wouldn’t upset Dad.  I cried in the car, crying out to God in this moment where only He is able to make this situation become something beautiful.  I cried when I got home because I was home and could cry knowing that my children are strong enough to let me cry and still feel that their world is safe.  I cried twice more because it is hard to be brave when your mama is in that whisper thin place where life and death touch. 

Today it was hard to go see Mom.  There was heaviness in my heart that made my whole being move at a weary pace.  Then I saw her, resting in her bed and I just wanted to be with her.  So I go through the ritual of washing my hands, sanitizing them before slipping on a pair of purple gloves.  Next comes the surgical mask.  I don’t like wearing it.  It makes me feel separated from her, like I am holding back something she needs.  But I still wear it because it is responsible.  I want to be careful not to pass on something to her that will be one more thing her body must fight.  I also wear it to protect my family from the hardship that we would have to cope with if one of us became sick.

When she sees me today there is relief in her eyes.  She grabs for my hand and holds onto it.  Like every time before I tell her I am glad to see her and I soak up the happiness I know she feels when I am next to her.  I know the love I give to her is more precious to her than any thing.