Friday, May 3, 2013

Rubber and Springs

I bounce.

I bounce out of bed to see the smiling face and outstretched arms. I bounce across the kitchen, flailing limbs and conjuring goofy faces, noises, whatever it takes to entertain a hungry girl. I bounce across the floor, on hands and knees, roaring like a lion just to hear one more squeal of glee. I bounce around town, calculating the minutes I have to spare and the miles remaining before lethargy becomes fatigue and singing becomes tears. I bounce gently, patting a shoulder the width of my hand, eyes welling up while tiny hands patter arrhythmically back.

Tiggers don't jump, I think. They bounce.

Exuberant, fun-loving, optimistic, irresponsible, and generally "ridickerous", Tigger always captured my heart. I am rather the opposite, some embarrassing mix of Kanga and Rabbit: the responsible, fastidious, protective, careful rule-follower. The kind who is always upset with Tigger for getting into trouble. The kind everyone needs in order for things to get done but that nobody wants to play with.

Ironically, being a mom has brought out my inner Tigger. His anthem echoes daily:

The wonderful thing about Tiggers,
Is Tiggers are wonderful things.
Their tops are made out of rubber;
Their bottoms are made out of springs.
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy,
Fun fun fun fun FUN!
But the most wonderful thing about Tiggers
Is I'm the only one!
Hoo hoo hoo hoo!

A wonderful thing. Fun fun fun. The only one.

Lydia has one Mommy, and I am she. I can't get these days back. So how can I do anything but accept that the milk is splattered all over the cabinets, stickers are hiding on the back of my dress, a diaper has exploded in every direction, and rocks are eaten before I can intervene? How can I but - dare I say - laugh about these constant messes and mishaps? If I don't jump in with all the rubber and spring I can muster, I'm going to miss out on a whole lot of fun.

The KangaRabbit in me is never going to go away, nor do I want it to. But being the best mother I can be also means mustering my bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy self and moving forward without a care in the world.

Because God's got this, Julie. He's really, really got it.

Which brings me to this blog.

I adore writing. I like the feeling of words coming through my fingertips faster than I can think; I love sitting, pondering, reflecting, musing; I enjoy sharing what God brings to mind. But KangaRabbit tells me I have failed myself, failed any readers I may have remaining, failed my child and future children by not adequately recording the joys and trials of these fleeting days. He tells me I am not one of those Super-Moms who miraculously has time to cook, clean, write, socialize, make an income, all while raising wonderful children. Which I'm not. And don't want to be.

Perhaps the day will come when I can finally sit down to write the book I've always dreamed of. Or let's be honest: maybe someday I'll start by writing more than once every two months. But now is not that time.

My calling is not to jump from one thing to another and try to be everything; it is to bounce. Doing the same things I do every single day because we have a heck of a lot of fun. Because someone has to do them. Because I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world. Because I am rubber and springs and everything matters and nothing matters all at the same time. Because I am silly, because I can let go, because I should surrender, because I know everyone says it and we are all sick of hearing it but this whole thing goes by way too fast.

So that's where I am. Thanks for bearing with me.

In the words of Tigger, Ta-ta for now!