12 Feet Deep

Sundays are always a challenging day for working moms -- at least those working moms that I know. Sundays represent the end of one crazy week and the beginning of another. I often think to myself that even God rested on the seventh day, but that doesn't seem to comfort me nor does it make me not have a hundred things to do to finish off the week and to start another one. In fact, all it really did is make me fairly certain that God was not female and clearly was "our Father" because if he were "our Mother, " he'd never be resting on day seven.

So today, like most Sundays, the routine began with me getting four kids ready for church ... And then with me wondering about half way through the Lord's prayer why I bother to go to church because all I really do is wrangle in four wee ones. I never really find myself praying - unless you count when I pray that Nicholas doesn't decide to use his crayons on the Bible pages like he did the previous week, or that Emme stops talking to her imaginary friends, or that Matthew doesn't burn the boy next to him as he holds the candle on the altar, or that Lucas doesn't need his bottle made in the middle of church. No, it always seems to me that I was not praying. In fact, I would find myself on occasion having random thoughts that included my making a mental list of all that needed to be done after church.

Today was no different except for the fact that Matthew had his best buddy's birthday party at the Aquatic Center here in town. But - I had devised a plan in church - I would drop him off and then go to my office to work on a grant that needed to be submitted this week. It would be a couple of hours for me to focus without other distractions. I found myself smiling in the middle of church, even when Nicholas with his two-year old charm announced to the congregation that he needed to go poopies. I had a plan - a plan that would allow me to get work done and would give me a few moments of peace.

But then the party didn't go as planned. The Aquatic Center was late opening up and I found myself hanging out with about 10 five year olds and their Moms as we waited, not wanting to disappoint the birthday boy. It was one of those nightmares for Moms who had painstakingly planned out - weeks earlier every detail of the party, including several variations of whether to eat pizza and cupcakes before or after the swim. But then, something beyond your control happens - in this case - six life guards and not one with a key! The kids were troopers playing tag, opening presents, eating pizza - all in the unseasonably warm 90 degree October heat. After about the first 45 minutes of waiting, the Moms realized we were in for the long haul, in this swealtering heat - yet one more thing we do for our kids, who were seemingly unphased by the fact that they were not yet in the pool. And then Emma's mom offered to make a run to the gas station to get drinks for us Moms. Once you become a Mom, you are defined by your children not by your own first name ... in fact, I find myself not using my own name when I introduce myself, but rather saying that I'm Matthew P's Mom - making sure not to confuse myself with Matthew W's Mom. A cold beer would have been great, but I settled on a diet coke and really at that point in the heat - I probably would have offered Emma's Mom my first born, for just a sip of something cold. Instead - I gave her the few bucks in my pocket.

The key finally arrived. The kids were thrilled. Swimming time. And so - because all the other Moms stayed, I stayed, too. But, I was sitting there planning how I could make an exit - even for just a few minutes to have some peace. After making conversation with Dominic's Mom, I excused myself to go outside and call home. She was headed down towards the water slides where our kids were playing and I told her I would join her after my call. And so I walked to my van - slowly - trying to breathe a little peace - I called home and headed back into the Aquatics Center. I was greeted at the door with the birthday boy's Mom holding Matthew's hand. They calmly told me that he had almost drowned. But - the life guard got to him in time. He had tried going down the big slide into 12 feet of water. And when he realized he was neither taller than 12 feet or a good swimmer - he panicked. I stood there looking at my son - my first born - who just minutes earlier I had thought about giving to Emma's Mom just for some diet coke. My first born who changed me forever - like your one true love. Matthew made me a Mom - he inspires me, he amazes me, he frustrates me, he teaches me, and he loves me - unconditionally. And I stood looking at my little boy - who because I needed to breathe, because I wanted to find some peace - took the wrong slide and was scared. And I was not there to help him. ...

He's fine. He went back in the water and down the slide - the one that goes into 3 feet of water. If you ask him, he'd tell you he had the best time at his best buddy's birthday. But for me, I sat vigilantly and nervously watching him play in the water with his friends for the rest of the party. His smile - his laugh - his wave to me as he would get out of the water to go on the slide again - all those things that I had moments before taken for granted, now meant so much ... including why I go to church and why I was glad that God was a man, who knew it was okay - and necessary - to rest on Sunday ....