Passion

As I write, my husband is playing NHL '10 on the Playstation. He screams and hollers when he makes a goal, and he berates the other players when they don't play smart. Sometimes I find myself instinctively saying, "Shhh" when he plays while the baby is sleeping. But today I really don't care. I've been thinking about him and "us" a lot today, and his passion, even the passion he has just playing a video game, is one of the things about him that I fell in love with. I don't tend to excited about much, so his passion is something I need in my life.

The picture above was taken right before we told our parents that we were planning on getting married in two months. See the difference in our expressions? My eyes express timidity and nervousness. I have my hands and my arms pulled in tight towards my chest and my head is turned in a way that makes it look like I'm trying to dodge a slap to the face. But Tom? Look at the joy in his eyes. See his confident smile? Notice how he's leaning forward as if waiting to race off the starting blocks. Joy. Confidence. Eager expectation. That's PASSION!

If you can understand passion, you will understand my husband. I love you, Babe!

Pain of Childbirth

I am convinced that pregnancy, labor and delivery are actually the least painful parts of having a baby. The most painful part of having a baby lasts the rest of your life as this vulnerable little being wakes up every day into an evil world.

Observation or Self-Fulfilling Prophecy?

*I wrote this post in two parts. Part one was written on Tuesday afternoon. Part two was written Wednesday morning. I didn't finish my part one thoughts before I had to leave. It's interesting to me to read them now in hindsight.*

Part One:

Right now a million thoughts are flying a million miles an hour. I had an appointment at 9:00 this morning that I missed because I thought it was at 10, so it got rescheduled for 4:00 this afternoon--just in time for this blizzard that we are supposed to be getting. No big deal, BUT I will have my precious baby boy with me in the car. We will be driving on a busy highway during rush hour in our old Malibu which is not all wheel drive. This frightens me. I don't even like to drive a mile to the grocery store in this weather with him in the car. Normally, I would cancel (though, of course, I shouldn't have taken the appointment in the first place), but I can't make phone calls because my cell phone service is suspended (sorry, Verizon, I'd rather pay my heating bill first). All these things spiral into a whole new realm of racing thought fragments:

breakdown..highway..freak out..no phone..no help..accident..freak out..no help..help me..can't go..can't cancel..must go..afraid..no phone..

I mean, I really have somewhat of a reason to worry in this situation. It's a threatening situation. But last weekend I realized that this is almost always how I think. I had planned to go to the bank and then go get dog food, but while I was at the bank I decided that I could go to Sears and pick up our portraits. As soon as I made that the decision, the race started:

"How far is the mall from here? There will lots of people there today. What entrance is closest to Sears? How far is the escalator from the door? I have to go up the escalator. What if I have a panic attack? How long will it take for me to get out? I hope the studio isn't busy so I can get in and get out. I'll give it five minutes." And on and on. I thought and thought and thought until I literally began to feel dizzy, my breathing became irregular, my palms started sweating, and I considered just turning around and calling the whole thing off. I wish I could stop it, but at least now I'm recognizing that I'm doing it. The fact is I've been doing it for years, but I just didn't realize it. Now I have to learn how to stop it. I want to be able to say, "I'm going to Sears," and then just go instead of making a million little mental stops along the way.

Part two:

Jesus said we can't add a second to our lives by worrying. Worry doesn't add life, but it sure can take it away.

Having said that, I can't gloss over the fact that what I worried about actually did happen to a certain extent. I didn't get stranded on the highway because I didn't take the highway. Problem solved, right? Wrong! As it turns out there are just as many morons driving on the back roads as there are on the expressways, only on the back roads you're passing people who, if they decided to swerve a little, would hit you head on. Not only that, but if you go off the road, you're hitting a ditch instead of a guardrail. And finally, if there is something hazardous in the road, on an expressway you take a cue from the cars ahead of you were are swerving to miss it. Not so on back roads! On back roads, you are the lucky one who discovers the hazardous object. This was the case for me. I didn't see it as I was approaching it. I just heard a loud thump and looked in my rearview mirror to see what I had run over. Still couldn't see it. It wasn't until I got to where I was going and I was unloading the car seat from the car that I heard a "Ssssssss" noise coming from my tire. Low and behold, an hour later, my tire was completely flat. So, there I was stranded, with a flat tire and no phone....and it wasn't quite as frightening as I imagined it would be. First of all, I was stranded in a warm building. And guess what! OTHER PEOPLE HAVE PHONES!

To recap: First, I worried about getting stranded and it happened anyway. Worrying about it didn't magically keep it from happening, it just made me miserable in the meantime. Secondly, even though it happened, the situation wasn't nearly as dire and life-threatening as I imagined it would be. Even if it had been worse, I'm sure I would have dealt with it just fine.

Hmm, I really must stop wasting my life with worry....