Yesterday I was buckling Hallie in to her car seat. I was nervous. It reminded me of how nervous I had been a few weeks ago - ok, that's not how I want to start this thought.
Let me start over.
Well, maybe that is the best place to start. This is getting awkward now.
I was nervous because Hallie was not wearing a diaper. And she was not wearing pull ups. We were on our way to church, and she was wearing her big girl panties. That's a full on just over three hour commitment we were heading off to, one that was unlike going to the library or the store because I wouldn't want to have to come home if there were an accident. We took two extra pairs of clothes, and three extra pairs of panties. Still, it was a pretty big leap of faith. Trusting that she would remember to stay dry until we could get her on the potty. Hoping that she would not be afraid of the big potties at church, unlike last time when she cried and cried when I put her on the big person toilet. (Which is why I was thankful that other time that she was wearing pull-ups.)
As I buckled her, I started thinking about all the times in life when we have to take those leaps of faith. Where we have to just sort of cross our fingers, hold our breaths, and hope for the best. Times like
Getting married. Having children. Leaving your babies with a babysitter for the first time. Making your first loaf of bread. Planting a garden. Buying a house. Sending your daughter off on her first date. Dropping your children off at college. Retiring. You get the picture, I think.
You put a lot of effort into something, and then there is nothing more you can do than just trust that the work you did will be enough, and hope that everything turns out the way you want it to.
And, it's funny because so often things do work out, and it's really really wonderful. Hallie made it through church like a champ, dry as the grass in California. I was so proud of her.
Today is Monday. She has wet her pants three times. The first time this morning I excused it because it was her first accident in a long time, and we none of us are perfect. The second time I made her clean it up herself (obviously not really by herself). The third time, well, she had gone to her room and put on a pair of pull-ups, then the next time I saw her she was putting her panties back on. I said, "What happened to your sleeping diaper?" (That's what we call pull-ups, I am not ready for a nightlong leap of faith quite yet.) She said it got wet.
So, sometimes our leaps of faith turn out the way we want to, and sometimes they probably don't. And sometimes when we are really comfortable with our lives and don't think we're leaping at all, things can go terribly, terribly off track. Well, what can ya do?
Me? I go to my happy places, thinking of things like:
1. I was sitting at a red light, waiting to turn left. I was watching the traffic that had a green light move through the intersection. Car, car, truck, minivan, truck, gigantic green John Deere tractor... Mr. John Deere was, judging from the wrinkles showing thanks to his shirt-less and short-shortsed state, nearing 102 years old. The wheels on his tractor were taller than any other vehicle around, and possibly taller than a couple of the nearest buildings. He chugged slowly through the intersection, and when he got through I was still watching him, because it's not every day you see Rip Van Winkle go by on a tractor. Once he had gone through the intersection and his back was to me I noticed that he had a bright, shiny, possibly glittery yield sign dangling from his rear. Oh, it made me so happy that I still think of him, that old old (looking) man with his glittery yield sign swinging gently from his bum as he tractored down the road.
2. We have a dehumidifier in our basement. We purchased it after our first flood of the season and keep it running so as to keep the basement as, well, dehumidified as possible. Devin empties it when the tank is full. Hallie likes to help. She very carefully calls it the "human-deacon-fire"
3. Hanna has two shiny teeth, and the bubbliest, gurgliest giggle of all time. Possibly because of all the drool in and around her mouth.
4. Devin is a very very handsome man, and he lets me cut his hair.
So, I guess I'll just keep working, and trusting, and hoping, and leaping, and visiting my happy places whenever necessary. All in all, it's really not a bad life.