Table for One

I'd almost forgotten how nice it is to order some food, pay for it, and then walk toward the soda machine with only one cup to fill. And no straying shorties to keep an eye on.

I'm having a relaxing lunch at Smashburger, of all places, all by myself. They have some incredibly good veggie frites that are only 3 Weight Watchers points, and I figured it'd be just as convenient as any other place. But since I usually take advantage of my preschool-day lunches to dine at places that are not particularly kid-friendly, like La Madeleine or one of the local joints on Magnolia, it feels weird to be eating by myself at a restaurant that I usually visit only with my entourage. Weird, but totally good. No other plates to keep an eye on, no booster seats to steady with an elbow or strategically-placed knee, no one to try to maintain conversation with through constant interruptions. Thank the Lord for preschool.

By some cruel twist of fate (or perhaps just poor scheduling on my part), I've seen my OB/GYN, my regular doctor, and my dentist this week. I guess it doesn't hurt to get it all over with at once. And if I'm lucky, my yearly optometrist visit will line up next year; it'll be like my own personal National Medical Visit Week... Fortunately, I can finally say that I really like all of my health professionals, so at least I can look forward to the adult interaction (if not the various tests and procedures that accompany it). In fact, I was visiting with my dental hygienist today before my appointment, and I was thrilled to be able to recommend my other doctors when she asked about them. She proceeded to explain that she and her husband are starting to think about having children, so then of course we had a brief(ish) conversation about OB/GYNs and midwives and all that fun stuff. I'm pretty informative, if you ever need some advice. ;)

But now as I reflect on that conversation (am I the only kook in the world who does that? and then describes it as "reflecting"? yeah, I thought so...), I can't help but see the stark contrast of her life now - newly married, working full-time, in great physical shape, apparently very happy in life - to the life that she and her husband are about to embark upon. What a difference 9 months can make! Especially when it involves growing a new human!

Part of me thinks, I hope she's enjoying her quiet lunches alone while she can! But then I'm also just speechless and humbled as I begin to grasp the incredible change that happens when children enter your life - a change that is simultaneously ton-of-bricks sudden and frog-in-boiling-water subtle.

My mom-friends and I laugh about the reactions we all had at that moment when we were released from the hospital for the first time with our newborns: "Umm, wait. You're letting me take him out of here BY MYSELF?? Is that such a good idea? I mean, I have no clue what I'm doing!" I remember sweating in my seat as P drove us home, worrying that every nearby vehicle was a danger to our baby's safety and thinking that I'd never put him in this deathtrap of a car again. (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ......)

And now here I am almost four years later, startled to realize how unnatural it feels to not have a small hand clamped in mine and a sippy cup dripping into my purse. How did that happen?

No amount of eloquence - or artful rendering or musical interpretation - could ever truly capture the thrill and terror and beauty of becoming a parent, nor will I attempt to explain how my kids (through the grace of God) have helped me to become not just a parent, but a different person - a better person than I was four years ago. But that change has occurred, and is surely evident to any who would see it.

And it's nothing less than a miracle.

Sometimes I think that it's things like this that show the thumbprint of God in our lives. Over time and life and experiences and changes, he carefully shapes us so that we are closer to the Image that he had in mind when he first began to weave us together. Sometimes that change is sudden, like a newborn in a carseat that was empty just hours before. But sometimes that change is as slow and steady as a tortoise - or as a toddler's extra inches of height. Undeniable but also unobservable, at least in the moment.

And then one day you look up and realize that your life is so very different than it once was. If you're like me, you can't help but have some nostalgia for that past life and its peaceful mealtimes - but then if you're like me, you'll finally have your precious solitary lunch hour in front of you - and then spend it thinking and writing about your kids.