Meant for Great Things

So let's talk a little bit about Andie.

Let’s get the obvious out of the way first.  This is not how Andie imagined living her life.  Oh no.  Try to imagine little girl Andie, reading her mother’s medical textbooks and dreaming of being a brain surgeon, that kid all bright eyed and hopeful.  Now imagine her dreaming of a life where she has to suplex a kid to get some peace and quiet.  Not really her style, is it?   

No doubt about it.  That kid was meant for great things.

She keeps her head down, stays out of trouble for the most part, ends up enrolling in a little Christian school in Lubbock, Texas.  Supposedly it has a really good pre-med program, and it will be a great springboard for her to get the basics out of the way before launching into medical school, specializing in some obscure field, and going on to cure AIDS, all forms of cancer, and that tingly feeling you get in your legs when you sit on the toilet for too long.   

She’d be a world-wide hero, a household name. Showing up to the hospital amongst rounds of applause, treating the rarest and most fascinating of diseases, and then driving her fancy sports car back to her mansion full of cats and domesticated bears wearing butler costumes.

Yes indeed, that kid had some plans.

Of course, if there is one thing we Weardens are good at, it’s changing other people’s plans.

Enter Stage Right: A skeevy older boy with too much chest hair poking out the top of his shirt and a smile that somehow manages to say both “You want to make out?”  and “Can I borrow $5?”.

My recollection of events may be a little hazy, but I would venture a guess to say she pursued me relentlessly until I finally gave in and agreed to date her.  Yeah.  That’s what happened alright.

Fast forward a couple of years, and I’m squeezing a few extra pounds of flab into a tux to marry the funniest, most intelligent, and most beautiful woman I have ever met.

But of course, you all know that story.  And I’d venture a guess that you know most of the rest of it, judging by how Andie’s readership numbers have been soaring through the roof lately.  No no, I’m not here to offer you a retelling.  I’m here to tell you about the woman you all know and love, and the parts that she is too modest to tell you herself.

So, as I implied earlier, not many people would peg Andie as the ‘motherly’ type.  Like myself, Andie is a big fan of peace and quiet.  Her perfect day would consist of toast and hot chocolate for breakfast, and then wrapping up in a giant blanket in a silent room to read a big stack of books until nightfall.  It’s a good fantasy.  Might throw in another of those butler Bears in for good measure.

Of course, I use the word ‘fantasy’ deliberately.  It is a known fact of parenthood that the standing decibel level of the household increases exponentially as the number of children increases.  This number can be compounded the closer in age the children happen to be.  With that in mind, I am honestly surprised that we haven’t had the police come by to ‘check in on us’, as walking past our home on an average afternoon must be akin to passing the home of the Addams Family on Banshee Karaoke night.

To those who do not know the entire story, Andie can sometimes seem a tad impatient with the children.  It is easy to focus on the hissing whispers and glares of death that she uses to keep them in line.

What most people miss, however, is the fact that the act of getting these kids dressed and out of the house alive involved three broken dishes, a bathtub full of muddy water, an entire bottle of perfume that Emerald had used to make her room smell better, a moldy ham sandwich in Ben’s pajama drawer, two barking dogs, one screeching Gabe, and a partridge in a pear treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Andie, in fact, has the patience of a saint. Though most saints probably would have tossed in the towel at this point.

Of course, behind her “Do it or I’ll hit you” maternal warmness, there is a fierce Mama bear that loves her children more than anything in the world, and is constantly sacrificing her own time and sanity and well-being in order to give them the best opportunities that she can provide.  She is so proud of her kids, and wants nothing more than to see them succeed.  Looking at the whole picture, Andie embodies the very definition of humility and self-sacrifice, because nobody I know has ever given up more for the benefit of others.

And that’s not even touching on how big of a pain in the ass her husband is!

Picture this, if you will.  It is your average Thursday at the Wearden household, which of course means that the children have already encountered five or six brushes with death, either through their own recklessness, or because of their persistent challenging of their mother.  Nevertheless, despite the fact that she hasn’t gotten to shower, nap, or even pee in 36 hours, Andie is still running frantically around the kitchen putting together an award-winning dinner to be ready when her husband gets home.  Her hair is tangled and ragged, the bags under her eyes have packed their own bags for a vacation in the bahamas, and unbeknownst to her she stepped on a broken shard of glass from a smashed plate an hour ago and is tracking little bloody dots around her kitchen floor.

The front door swings open and in comes ME, everyone’s favorite resident ne’er-do-well.   The kids rush into the living room screaming at the top of their lungs, causing Andie to wince in pain for the 900th time that day.  Oh, everyone is so happy to see the man of the house return, not the least of which his wife, because now she has some relief, someone else who can help watch the kids so that maybe she can take a shower and close her eyes for...

...wait WHY IS HE SITTING DOWN?

“Oh Andie, today was such a long and tiring day at work.  I am sure am looking forward to kicking up my feet and relaxing for the rest of the evening.  Is dinner ready?  Did you have a nice relaxing day ‘working’ from home?”

These are words I do not say, for I value my life.  Instead, I wrap her in my arms and marvel at the fact that after all this time, this amazing, beautiful woman hasn’t murdered us all in our sleep.

You have to understand, none of this comes easy for Andie.  She was never Suzy Homemaker.   That is just not her style. The kid was meant for great things, remember?  Medical degrees and fancy offices and big empty quiet house full of books and furry animals and silence.   Instead, here she is, with a little house full of screaming children and books with torn pages and...well, I guess the furry animals part is still there, but it's not nearly as glamorous as she probably expected.

And yet she still finds time to make my favorite dinner and pour me a drink.   She quietly puts away the laundry she has been doing all day.  She did the dishes (which is MY chore, by the way), because she ‘wanted to do something nice’ for me.   She hugs Ben tightly, despite the fact that being touched is the LAST thing she wants right now, because she knows that he feels ignored.  She clips Gabriel’s fingernails, even though he is pinching and screaming in her face, because she knows how much it bothers him to catch his nails on the fabric of his blankets.  She sits down and answers Emerald’s Eight Hundred Million Gazillion questions, because in her daughter she sees that same spark of intelligence and love of learning that she once had herself.

And through all this, if she gets a chance to take a shower, maybe read a chapter or two before bed, then the day is maybe not so rough.

I’ve never met anyone in my life who so perfectly encapsulates the concept of putting the needs of others over yourself.  I’ve never met anyone who struggles like she has, and still carries herself with a strength and quiet dignity that I am so envious of.  And never in a million years could I ever imagine myself to be deserving of such a funny, intelligent, and beautiful woman.

And yet there she is. Doing what she does, and doing it so well.

I’m telling you guys, I know you all love Andie.  I know you all admire her.  But honestly, you guys don’t even know the half of it. There has never been nor will there ever be another one like her.  She’s a walking, talking Blessing of God, and I am better for having her in my life.

So the next time you read a post talking about this family and how we function, about how interesting and fascinating these kids are, about how ruggedly handsome and charming her husband is, just remember:  Those aren’t even the best parts.  Because Andra Renae is the best part of all our lives.  And she deserves a little credit for it.

~Michael