Elizabethtown Upside Down

I don't know what I'm doing.

Seriously.

Elizabethtown has gone all wonky. Usually, in my own little world, things stay pleasant because it is MY town. But lately, I'm lost in it. I spend large amounts of my time thinking, "Huh? What am I supposed to be doing now?" Yesterday, after spending the afternoon watching a friend's four kids, instead of driving home, I drove to the old condo. It wasn't until I started to unlatch Henry's car seat that I realized, "Hey, we don't live here anymore. Haven't for a year."

This morning, despite the knowledge I was going to Bible Study and a friend who is a nurse was going to be giving me my shot in the bathroom, I wore a dress. Not the best choice given I could in no way simply drop my pants a little bit for my shot in my hip. But our sons were in a playgroup together, so she was cool with it. (And she's a nurse, right?) And it also must've been a shocker to the visitor in our small group when about 15 minutes before the shot I pulled a bag of syringes out of my purse and said, "Dang it. I forgot my alcohol." So I had to raid a first aid kit for some alcohol wipes before I could load up my shot. I mean, my usual group has been together for 2 years and is used to my wackadoo antics. But this newcomer may have found it disconcerting that one of the small group's leaders was pulling out her needles and searching for alcohol in the church. And then mid-injection, I heard the door to the women's bathroom open. Imagining the shock of coming into the bathroom, seeing my dress hiked up, me bent over the sink, and a 7 month pregnant lady giving me a shot, I simply yelled out, "Warning: flesh!"

And after Bible Study I always have lunch at the church with my 2 best buds, Robin and Ann. I stroll Henry across the church parking lot to the Mediterranean Bakery and pick up our food. However, this week Robin is living la pura vida in Costa Rica, so I thought it'd be just me, Auntie Ann, and the pickle. But apparently Ann had forgotten to tell me that she was having lunch at the church with her small group. And because they are gracious, the group invited me to join them.

I just looked at them. I was holding on for dear life to the handlebar of H's stroller, wondering what to do next.

"I don't understand," I said.

"We're going to eat in the fellowship hall," Ann said.

"Uh-huh."

"You can eat with us."

"Uh-huh."

"Leave Henry here. Go get your food. You're going to go the Med and then come back here."

I looked at Ann, who will be 37 weeks tomorrow, and thought--do you think she knows he needs a high chair? What will she feed him? I didn't bring any food. Usually we eat upstairs in the work room.

I liken it a bit to reading a page and then losing your place so you have to start over again. Or how I still sometimes have to sing the alphabet song in my head to figure out what comes after L and if you were to distract me somewhere around H I'd have to start back again. My usual routine was demolished, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do next.

I did manage to get us some food, but even during the meal I was in a bit of a haze. Not quite sure who I was supposed to be talking to, and wishing that it was just me, Ann, and Robin so I wouldn't have to worry about what was or was not inappropriate to talk about. Mainly, so I could talk about my girls parts at length without judgement or consequence.

So if you try to talk to me, please pretend that I'm a deaf, foreign, toddler. Speak slowly, loudly, and use small words. You may even have to do what I do when Henry is lost in Henry County (ie playing at the train table, not the actual Henry County in Southern VA where my grandpa was sheriff). Place your hand on my arm, put your face about three inches from my head and tell me to look at your eyes so you know I'm listening. Then repeat your comments. Several times. You may even need to take me by the hand, and, with your hands on mine, have me do that which you want me to do.

I'm pretty overwhelmed with the fact that in two days we're having our embryo transfer. Not overwhelmed with fear or anything. I know God is going to do His thing. I know my heart and my family are in Capable Hands. It's just I'm having trouble remembering to breath in and out and find food. And you know that Elizabethtown is located near the Island of Sodor (where Thomas the Tank Engine lives) when you find yourself in prayer saying, "Jesus, you are causing confusion and delay." But if memory serves me right, I am in good company when it comes to being perplexed about the movements of our Risen Lord.

I think this happened last time, but I was only trying to keep track of myself so being lost in Elizabethtown was alright. Nothing that picking up a book and sitting on the couch couldn't handle. Now Elizabethtown has a permanent population of 2. And Henry seems to understand that things are askew and is not liking it. Friends have offered playdates and to take him for the afternoon, but really, trying to figure out just what would be helpful to me is more than I can deal with right now. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to go to a seminary professor's retirement party and then to some high school alumni dinner and I'm pretty sure that I should do neither of these things. But I also don't want to be alone with myself and Henry either--that seems more daunting. If I go and do these things there will be food provided and other people to tell me what I'm supposed to be doing next.

Sloan and my sister sometimes joke that what I need more than a husband is a handler. And I do. I need a handler. Big time.

After nap time, I think I am going to leave the parenting in the capable hands of Curious George. After all, he's got four of them.