Lessons in Parenting

Being sick is exhausting. Baby being sick might be more exhausting. She was able to sleep between tiny doses of pedialyte.

Last night, Tim walked into the living room carrying a disgusting mess of formula, barley, sweet potatoes and Gwennan. She looked like an infant who had just emerged from the birth canal wearing a diaper. She was all curled up in Tim's hands (he wasn't holding her too close to his chest) with the biggest grin - we had finally rescued her. Silly girl never cried.

I remember Tim's mom warning me that I would be a nervous wreck the first time my kid was really sick. I handled fevers calmly, so as usual, I assumed I was the one of a kind parent who was born knowing what to do in every situation and could remain clear-headed at all times.

God is trying to break my pride. Between the fall from the bed, the afternoon spent in a locked car and the vomit last night, Gwennan is showing my true parental colors - I'm a mess, like every other new parent.

When Tim and I got engaged, I remember believing that we were going to rock the marriage thing. How hard could it be? I was a good roommate - cleaned up after myself and others, paid my bills on time, generally got along with whomever I lived with. So naive!

I always overestimate my abilities. Maybe it's what allows me to move forward - get married, have a baby, have two babies for that matter. Hmm...

As you might suspect, Gwennan is fine. One shot deal. She's back to lying in her crib, babbling away to Pooh Bear. He's a great listener - something else I'm good at. Well, maybe not.