An Average Day in the Life of a Superhero: Confessions of a Caped Crusader

With all the hype surrounding superheroes these days, people often get a false impression of us.  People tend to think we spend all day flying around, rescuing damsels in distress and preventing the imminent destruction of the world.  Don't get us wrong - we certainly do heroic feats when duty calls.  But not every day requires such daring escapades.  We have mundane moments like everyone else.  We have slow days sandwiched between valiant days.  In other words, we have time to stop and be our true selves every once in awhile.

So what does an average day in the life of a superhero look like, you ask?  It looks a lot like your day.

Little do people realize, for example, that sometimes we also find it's just too much work to put our pants on.  You know what I'm talking about, right?

Or that, every once in awhile, we too need a Dance Break.  And no, we don't only jive to our own theme songs, although we have been known to do that from time to time.

We also take time to catch up on our reading.  Reading is important.  That's what our Mama says.

And some of us like to drool on our capes.  It's a way of marking our territory, if you know what I mean.  "Don't mess with the S" ...because it's been duly drooled upon by me!  You know what I'm talking about, right?  Because you drool on your clothes too, right?

Since we have a public image to uphold, we occasionally spend time crafting our charm.  It comes more naturally to some of us than others...

And who doesn't like to recharge with a favorite beverage?  We prefer the milk variety around here.

And as long as we're baring all, we may as well admit that, sometimes, we too poop our pants unexpectedly and need to jump right into the bathtub to clean up.  That happens to you too, right?

Not every day is about flying high and conducting rescue missions.  Sometimes our greatest mission is simply to save someone from a bad hair day.  People appreciate that.  They really do.

And yes, we too stand in front of the mirror to slap our belly and belly laugh at ourselves.  You are not alone, my friend.  You are not alone :)

So you see, we really are just like you.  Yes, we may wear a cape and have special superhero powers, but underneath it all we are simply pantless, milk-drinking, belly-smacking folk.  We are just like you.  Because you're like that too, right?

When I Grow Up...

It's the question every kid is asked at some point: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

While there was some variation in my answer at times, there was one thing I wanted to be more than anything else: a doctor.

I know you're laughing.  Everyone knows how much I've loathed the last 7 years as my husband has worked his tail off to become a doctor.  The irony is that, when I agreed to marry this amazing man who was bound for med school, I knew what I was getting myself into since my dad is a doctor and I grew up with a bit of an understanding of the realities of this honored profession.  I remember when my dad had to answer phone calls in the middle of the night, when he had to leave early in the morning to round at the hospital before going to the office, when he missed supper with us because he had to work late, and when he brought work home because the work never ended.  I remember the downsides.  (I also remember the upsides, like the donuts he brought home from the hospital after rounding on the weekends!)  But for years and years - until my senior year of high school when I finally got smart and realized that medicine was not for me - I wanted to be a doctor.  Because I wanted to be like my dad, who was smart and helpful and good at brushing off the dirt and putting on Band-Aids.

I never became a doctor.  I married one instead, and he's also smart and helpful and good at brushing off the dirt and putting on Band-Aids, and he's put in many many many hours to become that doctor.

I'm proud of Eli, like I'm proud of my dad, but let me say this: my goodness, am I ever thankful to Jesus for not leading me down the path to becoming a doctor!  Because, let's be honest, you have to be a little bit crazy to do this.  Or maybe a lot bit crazy.  There's the studying and the shadowing and the exams, the mental exhaustion and physical exhaustion and emotional exhaustion, the loss of family time and God time and exercise time and social time, the accrual of thousands upon thousands upon thousands of dollars of debt...  There is much to be sacrificed on the road to becoming a doctor.  Eli has said many times, "Anyone who just wants to make money would never do this.  There are way easier ways to make money than this."  Because you have to be crazy to do this!

There've been many times when I've talked about med school and used the pronoun "we", as in, "when we did med school in Chicago..." because WE were on this journey together from the very beginning and WE suffered and endured the long hours and nights apart and WE paid for Board exams and flights to interviews and WE picked up and moved to continue doing this journey together.  So yes, I like to say that "we" did med school (and now residency).  But whenever I say that, people are naturally confused and ask, "Oh, you were in med school too?" to which I reply first with a laugh, and then, "No, I'm smarter than that."  Because, again, you have to be crazy to do this!  (Of course, maybe I was crazy to marry a crazy who wanted to do this.  I guess this is really a story about two crazy people doing something crazy.)

All this is to say, when I was a kid and people asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would usually answer unequivocally, "a doctor", which I was reminded of when my mom recently gifted me a school project I did in elementary school:

"I Want To Be"

I want to be a doctor because I would be able to help people get well again.  I like to help people.  I would get this job if I went to high school and college.  I would have to get an M.D.  I would use a stethoscope, ottoscope, rubber hammer, Xray and hot water for making a cast.  I would get money and people don't die.  Sometimes doctors can't help people and they have to go to the hospital.  Sometimes they die and there are too many meetings.  I really want to be a doctor.

By Krista Clark

So there you have it.  But I never became a doctor because I decided I wanted to be a writer instead.  And thank goodness, because truer words have never been spoken about that profession: sometimes people die, and there are too many meetings.  Only a crazy person would sign up for that.

Five Months

Our moose baby is five months old today.  In the words of every mother, "How on earth did this happen?  How did another month go by already???"  Life moves faster with each passing year.  That's all there is to it!

Kai is a happy baby who is rolling overly regularly, who nearly bounces out of his bouncy seat every time he kicks those strong legs of his, who drools like it's his job, and who watches the antics of his brother with curiosity.  Tonight, for the first time, he giggled simply because he thought something was funny (as opposed to giggling when we tickle and tickle and tickle him).  The funny thing?  His dad's face :)

We love this boy and we truly do not deserve him.  We pray regularly that he will love the Lord and continue exuding His joy!

And just to make you smile:

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

We wore green and listened to Celtic music on public radio.  Here are our little leprechauns, who are both sick and added a little green snot to the festivities :)

"Mine's a Pint!  Drink Milk Sensibly!"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Tall, Dark, and Handsome

Kai's 4-month appointment was yesterday and although he doesn't weigh as much as we thought (only 16lbs, 9oz, which is the 59th percentile), he is still a tall boy.  He's 27 inches tall, which is the 95th percentile!  That would explain why he's already wearing a lot of 9-month clothes :)

He was given three shots in his chubby little thighs and I was proud of how quickly he recovered afterward.  The shots made him rather weary, though.  He slept for 14 hours last night, then napped for 2 more hours this morning and 3 hours in the afternoon.  The poor kid was zonked!

Kai is a strong and healthy baby in every way and we are grateful.  He's our darling little moose!

The Travails of Having an Early Riser

Every kid has his thing, his severe struggle, his one great flaw.

Some kids don't eat well.
Some kids don't obey.
Some kids don't stop sucking their thumb.
Some kids don't play well with others.
Some kids [fill in the blank].

Our kid doesn't sleep.  From the very beginning, Caleb made it clear that Sleep was his arch nemesis, his mortal enemy, his leading adversary.  As an infant he'd only sleep 30-45 minutes at a time, and this went on for months.  He'd usually wake up happy, so we left it at that, but it became clear after talking with other moms that this was not normal sleeping behavior.  This kid took multiple naps a day until he was nine months old because he'd only sleep a little bit at a time.  (He was also one of those kids that had to cry it out before he would sleep through the night.  That was a rough week, but he did it and we were proud and relieved.)  Eventually Caleb transitioned to taking just two naps a day, at which point he also began transitioning to waking up early.  I mean, early.

Caleb was about ten months old when it began.  He started waking up around 5:30 every day.  We thought it must be teething or a growth spurt or something else.  But it didn't stop.  For awhile he'd wake up cranky because he hadn't slept enough, but eventually he'd wake up happy and ready for the day.  Either way, he was definitely awake and not going back to sleep.  The early mornings dragged on until we finally resigned ourselves to our new normal: each day began during the 5 o'clock hour, sometimes right at 5am.  If Caleb ever slept until 6am, it was a miracle.

Again, this was not normal sleeping behavior.

But he's been doing this ever since.  Which means Caleb has been an early riser for over a year and we've been walking zombies for the same amount of time.  We tried everything to fix the problem.  We kept him up late.  We fed him more at supper.  We changed his diaper in the middle of the night.  We put a heater in his room.  You name it, we tried it.  Short of giving him Benadryl, which I've threatened to do more times than I can count, it seems that nothing can make this kid sleep in any later.

"Who, me?"

People think I'm tired because I have an infant who keeps me up at night.  Nope.  That baby sleeps like a champ at night.  He goes to bed around 7pm and sleeps till about 4am, nurses for 10 minutes, then goes right back to sleep until 7 or 8.  It's bliss.

I'm exhausted because our toddler hates sleeping.  He loathes it, despises it, thinks he's missing out on life because of it.  We've tried countless times to put him back to bed when he wakes up early (from napping or sleeping overnight, because he often wakes up early from both), and the kid cannot go back to sleep.  Cannot.  First he cries and screams because you put him back in the crib and left him alone.  Then he eventually lays down and rolls around, babbling loudly, interspersing shouts here and there.  Let me tell you, no one sleeps through that boy's refusal to sleep.  It's exhausting.

Then, to add to our travails, he has recently decided that 5am isn't early enough.  The past two weeks he's woken up during the 4 o'clock hour several times, wide awake and raring to go.  And he doesn't go back to sleep.  This morning he was awake by 4:30 and never went back to sleep.  We finally got up with him at 6am.

Even though it's apparent that our child doesn't need as much sleep as the average kid, it doesn't always end well.  It's become obvious that he survives and functions on an inadequate amount of sleep and has some level of sleep deprivation at any given point in time, and eventually he crashes.  This morning was one of those days.  After many days of waking up too early and not napping enough to accommodate for it, he completely fell apart and needed a nap by 9am.

So if you occasionally complain that your child wakes up too early at 7am (which we sometimes hear people do), you will get no sympathy from us.  We'd take 7am any day.  Shoot, we'd take 6am.  That sounds like heaven to us walking-zombie parents!

"I'm on your side, Mama.  Sleep is my friend!"

And Again, Grace...

Somehow, we're not sure how, Eli had the day off yesterday.  On a Monday.  Clearly, it was God's grace to us.  We spent the day napping when we could and eating frozen cookie dough because, let's be honest, that's how we rejuvenate :)

Then we went out for dinner...at the food court at the mall.  Because we're that classy.  But honestly, where else can you get gyros and wantons and breadsticks with marinara sauce all in one place?

We also stopped at the bookstore and I found a book about planes for Caleb.  He would NOT let it go.  As we walked through the mall, our little boy walked with his nose in a book, literally.  He was focused, mesmerized, walking into people he was oblivious to.  It was awesome :)

He read the book in the car, then again and again and again at home.  What a successful purchase!

Until this morning when he remembered the plane book but couldn't find it.  I had just put Kai down for a nap and was attempting to take 3 minutes to myself to use the bathroom and brush my teeth (silly me to think I could take a few minutes to myself) when Caleb came in saying "Ana?  Ana?  Ana?"  I told him his airplane book was upstairs and he ran off while I proceeded brushing my teeth.  I heard him go upstairs but apparently he couldn't find the book because soon I heard him crying in a panic.  "Ana!  Ana??  ANA!!!????"  And I heard him go into the front bedroom where Kai was trying to fall asleep and tromp around looking in a wild panic for his new book.  So much for letting the baby sleep in heavenly peace.  (By the way, if Jesus ever slept in heavenly peace, as the song suggests, I'm convinced it was only because He didn't have any other siblings at the time.)  So I spit out my toothpaste prematurely and went to the stairs where Caleb was then standing at the top shouting down to me.  "Mama!!!  Ana!!!"  I ran up the stairs, shut the door where Kai was no longer falling asleep and gave a two-second, useless lecture to my toddler about volume.  Then I showed him where the airplane book was, and he sighed and giggled in the same breath and sat down to read it immediately.

It is by God's grace that I have a son whose panic attacks are because he can't find his favorite book.  It is by God's grace that I have a baby who can eventually fall asleep despite his brother's insane noise in the adjacent room.  It is by God's grace that I have these boys to love and cherish and nurse and give useless lectures about volume to.

And it is by God's grace that I have their dad, who comes home to us even if it's after we're all in bed.  Who kisses our sons on the head and prays over them long after they've fallen asleep.  Who loves and appreciates me for taking care of our boys while he's working long hours every day.  Who also knows that God's grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9).

So here's to 8 years of loving and learning and living in God's abundant grace!

Sometimes...

It happens every few weeks.  Okay, so I like to think it only happens every few weeks.  Maybe it happens every few days.  Or every few hours.  Shoot, sometimes it happens every few minutes.

Sometimes, a lot of times, I want to give up.

I want to curl up in a ball and cry.  (And sometimes I do!)

I want to turn on the TV so my toddler will be distracted and not see me empty the snack drawer into my mouth.  (And sometimes I do!)

I want to wear my sweatpants to the grocery store because the idea of wearing the exact same pair of jeans every single day because they're the only pair of jeans that I can yet squeeze into with these post-partum thighs of mine makes me feel despondent.  (And sometimes I do!)

Sometimes, a lot of times, I just want to bury my head under the covers and simply give up.

That happened today.  When my toddler woke up prematurely from his nap (which happens waaaaayyyy too often, I might add) and was crying and crying and crying for me with weary tears streaming down his face even as my own tears were falling because I'm completely, utterly, overly exhausted myself.

It happened when my infant screamed and screamed tonight and woke up his brother and tore my heart out all at once.

It happened when I called my husband to bawl to him and hear his voice for comfort but he didn't answer because he was delivering someone else's baby.

I wanted to give up.

But I didn't.  Because I can't.  Because I love these boys too much and because they need me.  And because God came when I prayed, "Jesus, please help!"  I maybe had to pray that prayer several times before I felt like He heard me, but I knew He heard me and was holding me all the while.

And somehow, by the grace of God alone, I survived another day as a mom of two tiny boys and the wife of a medical resident who isn't here much right now and who wishes he could rescue me but can't.  These days when Eli is gone before we get up and still gone when we go to bed are really rough.  We've had too many of them lately and it's wearing us down.  So sometimes I want to give up.  To throw in the towel.  To quit residency altogether and go live in my parents' basement.

But I don't.  Because God's grace allows me to take the covers off my head and go to the crying toddler in the other room and comfort him.  Because God's grace allows me to bear the screams of the infant because I know that his every need has been met and there's nothing more I can do for him but let him cry it out.  Because God's grace allows me to remember that we are blessed to have crying, screaming little boys in the first place, and that I am blessed to be their mom even when I bear the majority of the parenting single-handedly these days.

These are the thorns in my flesh.  The trifecta: residency and loneliness and exhaustion.  Sometimes they torment me and I plead with the Lord to take them all away.  But His grace is sufficient and His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:7-9).

Good thing, because I'm weak as weak can be on nights like these.

So another day is done, and tomorrow will probably bring another moment, or two or three, when I will want to give up.  But I won't.  Because God's grace is sufficient...