What About Mary?

I spend December thinking about Sweet Baby Jesus.

He's wrapped, snug as a bug, in a manger.

He's warm and loved and has a sweet look of pure content on his face.

He's dry and has that new baby smell.

It's a nice thought.

But when January rolls around, I tend to start thinking about Mary.

And the reality of the situation.

Mary, an unwed, pregnant, teenager with no place to give birth.

So she birthed him in a manger.

A freaking manger people!

Where horses eat and poo.  With stinky hay and no meds to ease the pain.

Silent Night my patootie.

I bet it was awful.  Scary.  Intense.

And I know Jesus was without sin, but is it considered a sin to wake up at all hours of the night to be fed or to cry endlessly for no reason whatsoever?

Because, come on, that's the stuff that drives us Mothers to the brink of insanity.

I love my children.  I adore them and would lay my life down in a millisecond if it meant their lives could go on.

But this sweet, pure, soft looking boy:

He poops constanly.  Threw his diapers. 

It stinks.

And he makes a screeching noise when he's hungry that seriously makes my eyes twitch.

And sometimes he simply refuses to nap.  Which doesn't make my eyes twitch, but does almost bring me to tears some days.

And this adorable, super funny angel:

Sometimes she refuses to nap too.

Which results in an insanely tired little girl right at dinner time.

And yesterday (after a napless naptime), she spit, yes, I said SPIT, on my floor repeatedly.

And laughed about it.

She gets up countless times during the night for ridiculous reasons.

Like ichy armpits.

And when I think about Mary, I don't just think about the day an Angel told her she would carry the Savior of the World. 

Or that agonizing night that she gave birth. 

Or the day she watched her first born give up his life to save mine.

I think of all the days that didn't make it into The Book.

Did Jesus do things that drove her off a cliff?

Did she raise her voice or say not so nice things to Jesus in moments of total breakdown?

Did she ever hand Jesus off to Joseph when he got home from work and go sit on her donkey (aka - car) just to hear the silence?

I like to think that Mary was a Mother.

A real Mother.

Like the rest of us.

And I like to think that Jesus was a Child.

A real Child.

Like all of ours.

Because I think anyone can be considered a Saint if your raising a totally perfect child.  But I don't need a Saint to look up to.

And I think Mary gets a bum deal by not including those everyday moments in The Bible.

Not that anyone asked me to be the Editor.

Anywho.  That's what's on my mind today.