Published Articles: Change of Pace

A few months ago, my two-year-old stamped her Elmo-slippered foot and demanded a change. "Sit down. Hold-a-me."

My reply that day was a hurried "Wait a minute," the same response I had been giving Christa for weeks, maybe even months.

You see, Christa is my "caboose" baby, my surprise who arrived twelve years after what I thought was my youngest child's birth. Ever since then, she has had to gamely keep pace with three active teenage siblings and a multi-tasking mom not used to babies anymore. Christa danced and clapped during high school concerts. She slept through most of her brother's wrestling meets, despite my enthusiastic cheering. She kicked her mini-soccer ball along the sidelines during her sister's games. Ready, or not, Christa's life overflowed with activity.

Finally, enough was enough. For weeks, Christa daily asked me to "hold-a" her, while I rushed around making dinner, folding laundry, and checking homework (all at the same time). Finally, I slowed down enough to really listen to what she was saying. Christa wasn't trying to be endearing with her demands, time and attention; she was being explicit. She needed me to slow down. Christa was tired of being lost in a flurry of "wait a minutes" while being swept along in the whirlwind of her older siblings' lives.

That first morning I slowed down, when everyone else was at school, Christa wanted to sit in my lap and watch -what else- an Elmo video. I fought against getting up. I wanted to empty the dishwasher, wipe down the kitchen counters, and sort through the pile of papers cascading off my desk. When I tried to compromise by staying on the couch but reaching for the newspaper, Christa gently took my hands and wrapped my arms around her. I got the message. Instead of catching up on world events that morning, I tightened my arms around my daughter and reveled in snuggling with her.

Later that day when she patted the chair next to her, inviting me to share her lunch of grapes, crackers, and shredded cheese, I sat down. Christa's needs were determining my pace.

My teenagers, by the way, have kept up their busy lives. Sometimes Christa and I are a part of their activities; sometimes we are not. There are still times when Christa has to wait while I finish a project, pay bills, or help another child. Life does not always progress at a toddler's pace. But now I guard against constantly telling Christa to wait.

Christa's brother and sisters grew up all too fast. With Christa's arrival, I have the unexpected chance to experience that season of motherhood again. I don't want to overlook my youngest, my surprise baby, as she, too, whirls through the twos, threes, fours, and into all that awaits her preteen years. I am determined to hold on to the moments that can slip by unnoticed-the times to give hugs, to read the same book over and over, to mess up the kitchen counter with play dough.

Usually a train is propelled by its engine. In this case, the Vogt family train sometimes allows the caboose to direct our course.

Beth and her family live in Colorado Springs, CO. While she and her husband Rob watch their older children Josh, Katie Beth, and Amy leave the nest, they are experiencing toddlerhood again with Christa, now 3. Beth is the Co-Coordinator of MOPS at Pulpit Rock Church in Colorado Springs.

SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2004
M 0 M S E N S E 13

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