The Writing’s on the Wall

By principle I am not superstitious. It’s not biblical. It’s not logical. It’s not good. But in practice, it’s there. Somewhere in the back of my head I think things like “oh, don’t say that” or “not today.”

I knew I was this way when it came to sports. The Huskers lost this one game when I made a black bean tortilla casserole and it has since been banned during the season. I also frequently try to sit in the same place as the last time when they won. I know it’s crazy. I know I shouldn’t think that way. But I do. And I laugh at myself because I know it’s all a farce.

Motherhood has not helped the superstitiousness. If I say something out loud, then it won’t be true anymore. Or, conversely, if I don’t notice how great something was, perhaps it will go away entirely. But usually, it is the former.

Take, for instance, the post I wrote where I told you Gideon doesn’t take pacifiers. Guess what he took the next day? And now? He’ll eat from a bottle without protest.

Or tonight, as we sat down to eat dinner, he was asleep and just as we went to pray I said with glee “we’re eating dinner and the baby is sleeping!” and as the prayer began, who do you think started crying? Yeah, not Jud.

And then there is the vomit. He didn’t. Ever. Sometimes he would vurp (vomit + burp = vurp) but he would just swallow it back down and we would never see it. Granted, his eyes got a little bulgy and he didn’t look so great after that, but he didn’t throw up. And then I told someone “It’s okay to bounce him like that. He doesn’t throw up.” I think you know the punchline here. Do you have any idea how sad it is to pick your baby up out of their crib with white stickiness all over their face, in their ears, matting down their hair, soaking their crib sheet?

Makes.me.feel.terrible.
Worst mother ever.
Because I jinxed him.

Mama’s Sorry.