Awhile ago I wrote about how much my life had changed since adding a fourth baby into my family. I wrote something about what it was like with a bit of humor and mostly sunshine and of course I ended it with an obligatory section about how in the end, no matter what, it’s all worth it.
I know. I know it wasn’t my best stuff. I know it was fairly boring and that just about any mother of 3+ children could have written that herself.
The thing is…at the time I was still super new to this 4 kid thing. Actually, I still am. BUT I’m far enough into it that I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be fine. When I wrote the first one…the boring one…I think I was just trying to convince myself that I could handle this gig. That I hadn’t, in fact, finally bitten off more of this parenting crap than I could actually chew.
#itworked #iwasconvinced #sowereyou #ithink
So anyway, now here we are. I’m feeling confident. My fourth baby is now nearing 8 months old.
(( WHAT.HAPPENED.WHERE.DID.MY.NEWBORN.GO. ))
And now I don’t need any convincing. I know for sure…I’ve got this whole 4 kid thing pretty well figured out. Am I any good at it? Well, we won’t really know for sure for another 10 or so years. This is sort of a “hurry up and wait” kind of job.
Hurry up and get the oldest to school. Hurry up and get them to practice. Hurry up and teach them 4 languages. Hurry up and get those training wheels off. Hurry up and get your family portraits. Hurry up and get that last one out of diapers. Hurry up and get your body back. Hurry up and watch your youngest get onto the bus.
Your kids are all about hurrying off to the next thing, I’ve learned. It never changes, as far as I can see. I mean, I was a kid. I know what it was like. I remember DREAMING of my 10th birthday the minute I turned 9. DOUBLE DIGITS seemed magical for some reason. My oldest, the Boy, is 7. He already talks about his 8th birthday like it’s going to change his world DRAMATICALLY.
And who knows…maybe it will?
I guess that’s part of the magic of childhood. Anything is possible because you haven’t experienced enough of life to realize – for yourself – that when human beings turn 8 years old, they don’t sprout dragon wings OR suddenly have the ability to skip to being married with kids but living all by yourself in a huge room filled with legos and peanut butter waffle sandwiches.
Anyway, while our kids are hurrying about, checking the mirror for any sign of their sprouting wings, their parents – that’s us – stand around just waiting. We are waiting and worrying and wondering and watching.
(( So many double-u’s!! ))
We are WAITING.
We know that dragon wings aren’t in their future. Because science. We know because we have already been through enough life to know that THOSE dreams…well…they just aren’t going to come true. Well…not by nature, anyway. So we stand by, waiting. We are waiting for the moment when those precious babies realize that even though science is super mega awesome…
…it can also be a real bish.
#RIPdragonwings #waitingisHARD #sciencecrushesdreams
We are WORRYING.
As we stand by waiting for our little loves to have their dreams bomb into a million pieces as they finally reach the point of no return (( AKA : Anatomy Class ))…we are WORRYING!!! I mean, we’ve been worrying since the day they were conceived. We worry BEFORE they are conceived. Unless, like my oldest, they were conceived during a week long margarita birthday celebration on the beaches of South Carolina. Then there really were no flying flips given. None.
(( Here’s where I feel it’s necessary to say, I LOVE MY MARGARITA BABY and I would never, ever exchange him for any other birthday gift in the whole world and I will ABSOLUTELY tell anyone and everyone in his life that he is the product of too much love, fun and tequila. ❤ ))
We worry, don’t we? We worry constantly and then we worry about worrying too much and then we worry that we are worrying too little when we’ve just decided not to worry anymore. It’s just what we do, us parentals. We worry about how our kids will be changed. We worry about how the world will scoop them up and mangle them with its dirty, scary, hurty grossness and then shoot them back – straight over home plate with a gnarly backspin. It’s one of those 90 mph pitches that we worry we will catch right in the gut.
Our very own prodigal children…
We worry that our precious babies will be left in a heap, a broken little ball of mush that we have to put back together. And then shelter forever and ever and ever, AMEN. We worry about how their perfect skin will be scarred and how their innocence will be lost and their beautiful hair will be dyed and cut and their sweet little hearts will be torn. So we hold them close…
…and then we worry again. About keeping them too pure, too innocent, too protected.
(( We want to have our own life back eventually, after all…right?? ))
This brings us to yet ANOTHER double-u.
We are always WONDERING!
From the moment I found out I was expecting my first baby, I was caught up in wonder. I was dreaming about my new little family member. I was wondering whether that babe would be a girl or whether they would be a boy. I became swept up in colors and quotes and dreams and personality traits.
Would my baby have dark, curly hair like their Daddy? Would they need glasses someday? Would they prefer to sit on the couch with a book or would they enjoy a bit of adventure into the mystical wonderland that would be the knee-height grassy hill of a backyard we had in South Carolina…
I wonder still about my firstborn.
I wonder about his little sister, my Girl. I wonder which prison she will end up in and whether they will let her choose the color of her stripes. I wonder if she will be scarred by how often I joke about her ending up in a prison. I wonder if she will ever stop cutting her hair or whether I’ve somehow caused some sort of deep-seeded need inside of her to constantly be changing her environment – skin and hair be damned. It needs color. It needs change. It needs whimsy and creativity.
I wonder if she will end up with a tiny Chinese tattoo on her ankle, like her Mother.
I wonder if it will actually mean what she thinks…
…or if it will mean “Sandwich”, as I’m almost positive mine does.
As life goes on and we slowly realize that no matter how much waiting or worrying or wondering we do…our children aren’t ultimately OURS…
(( They are gifts, given to us to guide, love and protect. They are part of us, they are OF us…but they are forever and always a part of something bigger than any of us could ever really control. Just as WE are. ))
We realize that no matter what we do, we will forever just be WATCHING over our children. We will be watching as they run to the mirror to check for their wings. We are watching as they look over their homework or as they rush out the door to the bus. We are watching as they take their first breath. Sometimes, we are watching as they take their last. We are watching them as they sleep, watching as they learn, watching as they make decisions.
As a Mom of one kid, I was in the same boat as I am now. My boat is just a LITTLE bit more crowded. I’m still dealing with the same worries and wonders and I’m still just waiting and watching. There are just more of the little turds and I sleep a whole lot less than I did when I had just one.
As an Auntie, I am still worrying and watching and waiting on my nieces just the same as I am now for my new baby niece that is on her way (( she’s still cooking )). I have adopted nieces and nephews all over this country – three little nieces here in the Valley, a little Love and his baby sister in Colorado Springs. I have a sweet little niece in Oklahoma. There are close family/friends all over the place with happy babies who I love dearly and would gladly take up under my wing if ever there were the need. And as the number grows, my worries never change, the waiting never stops…my boat just keeps getting a bit more squished.
As a Mom to four Angel Babies, I never stop wondering about them. I never stop worrying about how their lives will affect my future or the future of their siblings Earthside. I never stop waiting for the day when I can know more about them, as I truly believe I will be reunited with them at some point.
As a Doggo Mommo, I never stop worrying about my dopey Daisy Dog. She has cancer and it’s the worst kind. But we’re sure that her bout with a brain disease early on in her life actually left her without enough brains for the cancer to kill.
Does that sound harsh? Yeah, oh well. It’s been nearly 2 years since she was given one month to live. The diagnosis was not wrong. I think the cancer just has nothing to go after.
I mean…once upon a time – OVER ONE NIGHT – this dog literally LICKED a hole through our drywall. OVERNIGHT. She LICKED A HOLE IN THE DRYWALL. She also pooped in her dog bed. And slept in it. Often.
I don’t know if it’s true (( I never wanted to know the answer AND STILL DON’T)) but I was told once that dogs that poop in their own bed are too dumb and should be put out of their misery. It was an act of mercy to put that sort of animal down.
#farmlyfe #poordumbdoggos #dontgetupset #sheisaliveandwell #wedidntevenconsiderit #ilovealldogsequally #exceptmyfriendsdog #desmondistheworst
Anyway…it’s a GOOD THING I KEPT THIS DOPEY DOG because now she is absolutely the best dog I’ve ever known. She LOVES her human babies. She ADORES kitties. She goes with us EVERYWHERE and she has left her drywall eating days behind her. So far.
So here we are, Friends. My youngest is 8 months old, I’m FOREVER DONE having ANY MORE BABIES…except for maybe more fur babies. EVENTUALLY.
And this is the first of my “Three Kids & Beyond” posts. I don’t know how many there will be. But there will probably be a lot. Or none. Depending on how I feel. Because science.
#threekidsandbeyond #momlyfe #loveyoubishes
Happy Wednesday, Friends!