Germs

Not so long ago, in the office of Dr. Ruiz - this mother to be was being checked to make sure all was well. I was about six months into my pregnancy with Makayla. Her heartbeat sounded strong and healthy, my measurements and weight gain - they were all normal. I did my usual complaining about the aches and pains, and I whined about the constant nausea. Then Dr. Ruiz sent me into the ladies room for my monthly deposit of urine.

All during the appointment, there was a pint-sized commentator close by, asking me millions of questions and touching everything he could get his hands on. It was my beautiful little boy, Michael. He was my best companion back in those days. With his older brother in school, and his little sister still in the womb, Micheal got all of my attention. He was my buddy.

"What is that thing for mommy? Why did the doctor do that to your tummy? How come the heartbeat sounded so funny? What does it feel like when the baby kicks you? Does it hurt?"

Before I could begin to answer any of his questions, we were ushered in so that I could take care of business.

Michael was about two, which in layman's terms means that he was a germ magnet. Curiously touching and poking things, it seemed like I had to constantly remind him not to touch anything. Dirty hands would easily get shoved into his mouth, and which would automatically trigger a germ invasion. From the stomach flu to a common cold, I wanted none of it - especially being pregnant. I already had enough symptoms to complain about.

I had just finished collecting the sample, and began to get myself put back together. The entire time we stood in that bathroom, I had to coach Michael on what not to touch.

He would grab for the faucet. "Don't touch that Michael." I would plead

Then he would rub his hands along the wall. "Please don't touch the walls Michael."

The last straw was the toilet paper holder. "Michael Brandon Reese, I told you not to touch anything." His countenance changed from a smile to a frown. I was certain that I had finally gotten through to him.

Feeling heard, I turned to wash my hands. Thoughts drifted onto the baby . . . the sonogram, the feel of her kicks, the heartbeat. I smiled back at myself in the mirror, glowing as an expectant mother would.

Then it happened. As I turned to get a paper towel, to my astonishment, my two year old son had his nose - yes his nose rested on the edge of the toilet seat, watching it flush.

I can't really say what came out of my mouth next, because I was too shocked to come up with a clear sentence. I'm sure I sounded like a balloon letting out a bit of air, or maybe a mouse that had just been stepped on. But whatever noise I did make, it made my little germ lover jump!

I remember feeling the need to relax a little bit that day. As much as I tried to control Michael's choices - there wasn't a thing I could have done to keep his nose from hitting that bowl. I wonder what was going through his little mind at the time. He probably had a parade of silent questions that he was just wishing he could ask that toilet bowl.

That very serious afternoon, God blessed me with a laugh I will never forget. It is easy to take life too seriously. I was just trying my best to be a good mom, making sure that I kept my little tyke from harm that day. But I have come to realize since, that germs are just a part of life.

Sometimes you have get down to the dirt - to toilet bowl level if you will, to appreciate what matters most.