Sunday, November 21, 2010

citizen's arrest. citizen's arrest.

have you ever seen the andy griffith show? don't you remember hearing gomer pyle hollarin' "citi-zy-an's a-rray-est! citi-zy-an's a-rray-est!" that's how todd and i have felt lately. because what do you do when you have a total moron of a human being riding his crotch rocket motorcycle through your neighborhood going 50+ mph? there's not a whole lot you can do, apparently. you can call the police, but what do you tell them? "hi. mister crotch rocket dude just flew past my house. will you go get him?" ...where'd he go?... "i don't know." exactly.

so for weeks, i'd say even since before liliana was born, we've heard the high pitch zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzz of a crotch rocket flying past our house and down the joining road beside our house. and it makes todd furious. several times he's jumped in his car and chased after the guy - but we're always too late. the little rocket boy is going so fast. by the time you see him, he's turning onto another road and there's no catching up. all we wanted was his license plate number. because that ought to do SOMEthing, right?

yesterday i was on my way home from the gym and as i turned into my neighborhood..zzzzzzz...there he went. he was rounding a corner in my neighborhood just as i was passing him. so i, being alone and without children, did what any mama would do. i jerked my minivan into a road, backed out and hauled booty after the rocket boy. and when i say hauled. i mean i was going 70mph down 17th street ext. headed towards college road. and if you're from here, you know that that in itself is no brilliant move. but i was determined to get this boy's license plate. so as i'm speeding, i'm dialing the hubs. "i'm chasing the crotch rocket boy, todd! i'm gonna get him! ...ok, get something to write with. ready? license plate number...ok. now pray for me. i'm gonna talk to him."

so i pull up next to him in my minivan. i'm lookin' fierce in my hollywood sunglasses and hair greased back in a ponytail from my workout and my two carseats in the back. and i ever so nicely say, "can you hear me?" he smiles and says "yes." and i say, "do you live in bla bla (gonna leave that out) neighborhood?" him, "no." me, "do you sometimes ride through there?" him, "yea." and this is when i get pissed, but mind you i didn't say all of the curse words that i wanted to. cause boy, i wanted to either knock him in his nose with my fist or at least let him have it with mean words. but i refrained. so instead i said, "DO NOT come in our neighborhood AGAIN! it is NOT OK for you to ride your bike that fast. THERE ARE CHILDREN in there.!" him, "SO. they gotta catch me. i don't care. i don't ride around kids. i don't care." me, "well then you should know that your license plate number is going directly to the police RIGHT NOW....(and i add this in b/c i KNOW that this will scare him)...and i have a cop who lives on my street. we WILL catch you!" him, "i DON'T CARE!"

and the light turned green.

and that joker accelerated so insanely fast and went around the turn so fast that i was sure that his bike was going to fly out from beneath him (which i don't want. i didn't want him to die.). but i wanted him to get a FLIPPIN' CLUE!

and i know that i sounded so far from threatening. but let me just tell you how much of the mama bear in me was rising up. i was so rattled and angered by that moron that my hands were shaking when i walked into our house. i'm just glad that we were in our cars and not face-to-face. i'm afraid my knee would have had a twitched and jumped up and knocked him in special places.

i don't think i would have been so mad if he hadn't said he didn't care. because he DOES in fact ride his bike by children. our whole neighborhood is active - people are constantly out walking or riding bikes or kids are playing. how incredibly ridiculous. and when we called the cops there really was nothing they could do. they said they would go by his house and talk to him.

and you know what i picture? and i always have. so now picture this with me. i picture the holy spirit being loud like a lion when a mama is protecting her babies. and i've always thought that if someone broke into my house with me there with the girls, that i would open my mouth and this roar would come out. it would be so big and loud and crazy, that the bad guy would run. i believe that the voice of the Lord can roar. sounds silly, maybe. and so i'm just hoping that even though i didn't roar at that rocket boy, i hope that whatever i said to him transferred. i hope that the Lord rearranges my words, later, and that when rocket boy replays the events of yesterday that he remembers this crazy burly looking dude threatening his rocket riding days if he so much as steps a wheel in our neighborhood. because the Lord is cool like that, and i know He could relay that message if needed.

here's to no more rocket boys in my hood. or else.

citi-zy-an's a-rray-est!

Friday, November 12, 2010

there are just some days...

there are some days, like today, when you take your two and half year old and your 9 week old to the doctor for a two month old baby check up when it hits you....i'm tired. and my heart is full.

last night our baby slept through the night. well, she woke at 5a.m. to nurse and then went back to sleep. she slept beautifully. i, however, didn't. i kept wondering when she was going to wake. and sometime in the night i realized that i'd forgotten my nursing pads. i realized it because my entire shirt and bra were soaked with milk. oh you sneaky let down, you. but when i woke for the day, i was ready. i was so happy for a well-slept house.

and after a nearly two hour doctor's visit gone horribly wrong, i was deflated. we were one of maybe ten patients total. and somehow they forgot about us. i asked three times if they remembered us. finally after an hour and a half, we were seen. but by then, the two month old was exhausted and falling asleep. shots pissed her off in a bad kind of way. and the two year old. Lord help us. i was about to sit her in the hallway and ask them to bring her some sort of sedative. the holding room was WAY to little for the three of us. or maybe just the 2 year old's energy.

i laid the baby in her crib. her eyes never opened. i wanted to crawl in with her. exhausted didn't properly define my state. but life goes on. the dishes needed to be unloaded from the dishwasher and the full sink needed to be tended to. and those dishes needed to be loaded. and the laundry - that turned into three loads - needed to be washed and folded and put away. and the toddler still required my attention. and she whined and pleaded for it. my attention. and i was torn from my deflated energy and the chores that needed to be done and the love that needed to be given to the brown eyes that were begging me to come and play.

so we played. and while playing, a flash of red caught my eye. so like any good mother would do, i used a paint stirring stick to squish a black widow. (while screaming at the curious 2 year old walking towards me saying "let me see the spider mommy"...and i was yelling "DO. NOT. COME OVER HERE! IT'S A DANGEROUS SPIDER!"). and then i called the exterminator. oh the drama. the neighbors must think i'm a loon.

and as i type this, my baby's daddy is giving the two year old a bath. the two month old has been in bed for hours and i'm still...exhausted. and i keep wondering when energy will return to my body. though i remember it being like this the first go round but i still wonder. and i wonder when the last few pounds of fat will leave my body. this is not what i remember the first go round. then again, this is a second child. i am 31. and i'm not nearly as able to get up and go to the gym or go for a walk with napping child(ren). so i try to be patient and do arm weights and situps and squats in my between folding underwear and socks and miniature clothes. lots of them.

and i try to smile knowing that this is the life i dreamed about...but knowing that the reality is that some days are just harder than others. some days i've got it all down pat and figured out. and then some days the firstborn whines more than there are grains of sand on the beach and the house requires more of my attention than i'd care for and the fat on my belly still jiggles and the crows feet keep digging in and the gray hairs keep multiplying and i smile. because i know that this is what i signed up for. but some days...some days it's just exhausting.

and i find myself looking the brown eyed babe in her eyes and wondering where the time has gone. and i cry. because i know that my mom and dad held me when i was a babe. a toddler. and they loved me and fussed over me and then time slipped and so i think about this day that's worn me out - for whatever reason - and i think, enjoy it ashley. one day you'll wish you were squishing spiders and pushing thirty pounds of chubby toddler love on a swing and nursing your baby and not waving them goodbye as they pull out of the driveway headed to their own houses.

and really, is there any sweeter sound than a baby nursing?

God has overwhelmed me with the most precious daughters. thank you Lord for the chance to raise up two women to go out and make the world crazy in love with You.