Little One, someday you will know that the world existed before you.
You will discover that Daddy and I were people before we were parents.
By the time you're curious about who I was before you were born, I may have forgotten, so this is for both of us:
Before you were born I spent money on myself.
I drove with one hand and tried to beat the light.
I had my own bathroom.
I wore earrings.
I was always on time.
Before you were born I had long, interesting conversations with your father several times a day.
I expected parents to be objective about their kids.
I secretly thought Mother's Day was overrated.
Before you were born I didn't know the fastest route to the hospital.
I didn't know how long I could run on a packet of oyster crackers and a handful of smoked almonds.
I had never fallen asleep while standing in my closet.
Before you were born I thought my floors were clean.
I subscribed to magazines.
I sometimes sat and thought about nothing in particular.
Before you were born I thought getting licked by someone with a mouthful of pureed squash was gross.
I wondered why mothers never ran out of things to talk about.
I was sure that most kids had too many toys.
Before you were born I thought I was busy.
I listened to talk radio in the car.
I imagined you with blond hair and blue eyes.
Before you were born I ate sitting down. At the table.
I left the door open at the top of the basement stairs.
I wanted twins.
Before you were born I had more time, more space, and more money.
I thought that mattered.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
June 17, 2006
June 08, 2006
WWMD
What Would Mary Do?
That question has been my daily prayer for the last eleven months.
What would Mary do if Jesus had colic? Would she hold him while he screamed nonstop for 2 hours, or would she leave him on his pile of hay to cry it out?
What would Mary do if Jesus developed an obsession with the oil lamp? How many times would she patiently move it out of his ever-expanding reach before finally losing it and shrieking, "This is why I can't have anything nice!" 7 times? 70 times? 70 x 7 times?
What would Mary do if Jesus pulled himself up at an olive tree and scraped his cheek on the trunk, and then, as soon as she had dried his tears, pulled himself up at the very same olive tree and bonked his head as he turned to flash her a triumphant smile?
Did Mary ever set him down on the dusty road to Bethlehem just-for-a-minute so that she could take a drink of water? If Jesus, in that just-for-a-minute snatched something gooey and unidentifiable from the underside of the ox cart and crammed it in his mouth, what would Mary do? Would she yank Jesus up and try to get him to spit it out? Would she yell to Joseph, "Quick, do a finger sweep!" Maybe she would just take another drink of water and wait to see what happened.
At some point Jesus must have fallen headfirst off a donkey. He must have smacked one of his brothers with a wet palm frond, and spent an entire temple visit hollering MamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDada at the top of his lungs just to hear the echo.
What would Mary do if Jesus figured out how to unfasten his diaper or unlock Joseph's tool box? What if his favorite food was incense?
How would Mary explain God to Jesus?
What would Mary do to prepare Jesus for the rest of his life?
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
That question has been my daily prayer for the last eleven months.
What would Mary do if Jesus had colic? Would she hold him while he screamed nonstop for 2 hours, or would she leave him on his pile of hay to cry it out?
What would Mary do if Jesus developed an obsession with the oil lamp? How many times would she patiently move it out of his ever-expanding reach before finally losing it and shrieking, "This is why I can't have anything nice!" 7 times? 70 times? 70 x 7 times?
What would Mary do if Jesus pulled himself up at an olive tree and scraped his cheek on the trunk, and then, as soon as she had dried his tears, pulled himself up at the very same olive tree and bonked his head as he turned to flash her a triumphant smile?
Did Mary ever set him down on the dusty road to Bethlehem just-for-a-minute so that she could take a drink of water? If Jesus, in that just-for-a-minute snatched something gooey and unidentifiable from the underside of the ox cart and crammed it in his mouth, what would Mary do? Would she yank Jesus up and try to get him to spit it out? Would she yell to Joseph, "Quick, do a finger sweep!" Maybe she would just take another drink of water and wait to see what happened.
At some point Jesus must have fallen headfirst off a donkey. He must have smacked one of his brothers with a wet palm frond, and spent an entire temple visit hollering MamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDada at the top of his lungs just to hear the echo.
What would Mary do if Jesus figured out how to unfasten his diaper or unlock Joseph's tool box? What if his favorite food was incense?
How would Mary explain God to Jesus?
What would Mary do to prepare Jesus for the rest of his life?
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
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