Only Sometimes Clever

I really can’t believe I’m a mother to a 12 year old.

He’s kind;  he lets me talk about the days when he was fat and smiley and when his favorite thing to do was knock over our hamper and roust about in the dirty clothes, and say things like “potock” for pocket, and “sobby” for strawberry, and “pleedo” for pillow, and how he used to call Grant, “Dwat.”  I wish that, at the time, I would have recognized what a fun baby Ethan was.  I spent a lot of his infancy stressed out because it was a lot more difficult to be a mother than I had anticipated.  But, I guess that just adds more joy to mothering now, because at least with the little-kid stuff, I have a good perspective, and five kids’ worth of experience that I just didn’t have back then.

I really need to do a post where I compare baby pics of both Fiala and Ethan.  They’re virtually identical.  But, my camera died.  I thought maybe I just needed new rechargeables, but even with those, the camera will hold power for about 2-3 seconds, if at all.  I’m thinking about asking my Dad if I could send it to him to fix.  He really can fix anything.

So, tonight was the big family shindig at the park.  It went well.  With all the leadup in my thoughts and prayers, and the way the Holy Spirit set it in my husband’s heart to invite our former sister-in-law, I thought that maybe God had Something Big in mind.  Well, maybe He still does, but if so, it didn’t happen tonight.  The FSIL and I hardly exchanged more than 10 syllables.  Part of that was because she came late;  she had to work, so my father-in-law picked up her kids, and then she came when she was done, not arriving until nearly 8:00.  Then, the lights inexplicably turned off at the park at 8:45, so we wrapped up the party.

I think maybe it’s maturity — either that, or apathy — but a big part of me really doesn’t care what FSIL does or says or thinks any more.  I used to get all worked up, rolling my eyes, and exclaiming with horror, “Can you believe she…” and now, it just rolls off.  I just prepare myself in advance, that she’s likely to say or do something with which I completely disagree, and I just don’t let it sink in.

I just did my best to take the best of it — like the fact that she loved Audrey’s spunk, and that she thought my cake was good — and just not worry about the rest.

Now, FSIL is set on having a joint birthday party for one of my neices and Grant.  I was glad to see Martin totally noncommittal to that.  I mean, it may work out, and that could be a good thing, but I don’t think either of us are ready to have her be our new BFF or anything like that.

I did very much enjoy spending time with my neices and nephew, especially the youngest, who is almost 11.  She’s just sweet, and trailed nearby me most of the time, often holding Fiala.  And, my nephew is 17 and about 6′4″, but seemed to think nothing of playing with his much-younger and much-smaller nephews, putting wrestling holds on them, and running around in the sprinklers with them.

It was a good time.

Thanks to the many of you who prayed.  Part of me feels like a dork, because maybe all the prayer wasn’t necessary;  it all went so smoothly.  BUT, maybe all of our prayers averted what could have been disastrous.  And, there’s no such thing as wasted prayer, IMO.  So, it’s all good.