Mom at work

Last week was my first week back to work since having Preston. While I love my job, I had been dreading July 23 since May. I enjoyed the lazy little routine we had gotten into — our morning naps during Kathie Lee and Hoda, folding clothes while singing children's church songs, and all the cuddling, cooing, slobbering and smiling that comes with a baby. We had a good thing going, and I miss being able to be with him all day.

My first day back, everyone was so sweet, sending me texts and Facebook messages, bringing me little gifts and words of encouragement. They were all a great comfort to me. But during that first week, there was one thing that changed my whole perspective.

Coming back was something I struggled with. It broke my heart that I wasn't going to be the one to take care of him. And then one of Preston's sitters sent me a picture of him that said, "Thanks for working hard for us, Mommy!"

As strange as it sounds, that was something I hadn't realized. I was back at work for him. I was going to work to help support our family, not because some mean, outside force was dragging me away from my baby. At this time, for this season of my life, this is the best way I can take care of him. And that changed my entire attitude on going back to work.

Do I still miss him during the day? Painfully so. But I know that when Preston reaches a time in his life when he needs me at home, God will provide that means. For now, I find comfort in the fact that this is how I can take care of him — and squeeze in as many drooly kisses as I can in between.

Olympic fever

The Olympics are finally here! I have been chattering on for months nowabout how much I couldn't wait, and I think Scott is tired of it. While he geeks out about the Oscars, I am addicted to the Olympics — specifically women's gymnastics.

When I was younger, my sister and I took gymnastics along with our two best friends — also sisters. Our love of gymnastics peaked at the same time of the 1996 Olympics and the Magnificent Seven. This was the year the women's team took home the gold and Kerri Strug vaulted her way into infamy on a broken ankle. 

During that summer, the four of us would turn our friends' living room into an Olympic venue, cartwheeling around the floor, balancing along lines in the hardwoods, and vaulting over the couch. We each took on the name of one of the gymnasts — I was Dominique Moceanu — and marked down scores on a Little Tikes blue easel (Remember that?). My sister was Kerri Strug (they had the same, unfortunate, hairstyle) and played up the limping and heroics of the role. We even had gymnast Barbies who we would reenact various routines with. Those were good times. (We would even do rhythmic gymnastics with our Ribbon Dancers. You have to remember those.)

To add to my anticipation, in this year's games, a Harding graduate whom I had the privilege to interview for the magazine will be running in a track and field event! Janet Cherobon-Bawcom will run in the 10,000 meters August 3, and I'll definitely be streaming it at work and cheering her on.



So, while I might be too old to be an Olympic gymnast, I will still be firmly planted in front of my TV dreaming of flipping and flying my way to gold. Plus, I've got to find a sport to dedicate Preston's life to so that some day Pampers will make a commercial honoring me as an Olympic mom.