Today Moo hit a milestone. Today is the day she figured out that she can barrel roll all over the room. Man, wasn’t it just a couple of days ago that I was fretting over her not being able to roll over from her belly? It sure seems that way.
Now we enter a new phase. Since we space our kidlets so far apart, the house has a chance to go back to normal between each one. The Bear is old enough that I could have all the breakable stuff down. Ha! No more of that! It’s time again for anything I hold dear to live four feet above the floor.
Can I sing another round of “How do people with big families ever leave the house?” I only have three kids, and yet it seems like we are house-bound all the time.
The Bear brought home another lovely cold virus. Because he loves his little sister so much, he shared it with her. He’s that generous. He didn’t want me to feel left out, so he has shared it with me, too.
I would like to leave the confines of my cell now and then, but that requires that the small people in my entourage be scourge-free.
An open letter to all the contagious people out there:
Dear pariahs,
I know you have important stuff to do. I’m sure it simply can not wait. But, really, if you are sick STAY HOME. Please. No matter what your calling in life, you are not so important that you can not stay home for a couple of days. The rest of the world will thank you mightily for keeping your vile, mucus-infested self hidden away.
This goes double for your children. Sure you’ve got ministries to attend to, a job, a pedicure appointment. But when you sock your boogery kid in Sunday school, daycare, whatever – you’ve just sentenced entire families to your misery. So STAY HOME! STAY! Your kidlets will be happier if you do. So will the rest of civilization.
It’s nothing personal. I’m just running low on Airborne and patience. Don’t make me tell you in person, because I am tired and running a low grade fever. It won’t be pleasant.
How was the convention? Well, I’m sure the convention was fine. But we had bigger fish to fry.
Early last week my father in law was told by his doc that his EKG was way off. He was to see a cardiologist pronto – do not pass go, do not get on a plane for your planned vacation. So we decided to put the convention on hold for a year until we found out he was okay.
I know what you’re thinking. You are thinking to yourself, “What an amazing father in law she has, to be diagnosed with heart problems just to spare her from her separation anxiety!” And you’d be right – he is a really great guy.
BUT! The great news is that he is really okay. The cardio said that he is totally okey dokey and that it was a false alarm and that he is free to mainline bacon for the next ten years.
Well, maybe not that last part. But we are really really glad he is healthy.
You’ll have to excuse me. I’m having a bit of a crisis over here.
See, I packed away the Amby Hammock today and set up the crib. On the surface, that doesn’t seem like a big deal – after all, the crib is in our room so she isn’t really going anywhere. But to my heart it’s a huge step. Eventually the crib will move down the hall to the Princess’ room and Moo will sleep ever so far away from me. That crib is the final step before she sleeps in a big bed of her own.
I don’t know if I’m she’s ready. But she definitely needs more space than the hammock provides. If it was up to me, she’d probably be curled up by my side until she was ready to go to college. Mmm, yeah. That would be healthy.
So I bleed from my mama heart a little and put her in the crib. Hopefully we will both sleep better tonight.
Last night the Princess had her second piano recital. Her first was exactly six months ago, and I missed it because Moo was three days old and I was not ready to have people within fifty yards of her.
What fun!
It was totally worth the tears, protests, and whining when practice time came around. She didn’t usually like it, either.
I have heard that second born children have a hard time when their older sibling excels. And I have also heard that boys tend to lag behind when it comes to fine motor skills.
Ha!
Princess: Mama! Come quick! Look what the Bear did!
Bear: Look, Mama! Look! I wrote Jo-an! That’s Grandma’s name!
Moi: Great googly-moogly. Princess, did you help him do this?
Princess: Nooo. I wasn’t even watching him.
Bear: Jo-an! I really like my new pen, Mama.
Wow!
He’s since gone on to write out his own name all over the place. (Well, forward and backward. And the first letter is backward. But still.)
My precious Moo! How could half a year go by so fast?!
This month you finally learned to sit up. You’ve been doing baby crunches for so long, your tummy actually has creases along your teeny little six-pack. Now you can use those muscles to stay vertical. AND you can finally roll off your tummy! When you flip over, you look at me and grin. You know what a shmendrick you are.
I found out that rice cereal is not completely innocuous. Some people just can’t handle it. (Sorry about your flaming diaper rash!) When your backside returns to normal, maybe we will try some sweet potatoes instead. That mush is pretty gross, anyway.
I love that you hook your leg around my free arm when you nurse, like some kind of pink monkey.
And it’s okay that you still wake up a couple of times a night. You’re so stinking cute, I’d probably want to wake you up and hold you anyway. What do I need with sleep?
I’m not talking about July fourth. I’m talking about leaving my babies.
For years I have wanted to go commune with my peers and visit the state’s big homeschool convention. Every year the date would get closer and something would come up. But this time I was adamant – I really wanted to go! And I want to be able to think a full thought without interruption. To attend workshops where I will be able to listen and not threaten small people with a hard life if they aren’t quiet. As an added bonus, I would like to troll the vendor hall without singing the “Don’t touch! Don’t touch! Don’t touch!” chorus.
I want to leave the kidlets at home.
You know how, when you hold onto something as hard as you can for as long as you can, when you try to let go your hand is numb and frozen into position? It’s almost impossible to uncurl those fingers. And it takes forever before it feels normal to function any other way. This is what I have become. The human embodiment of a white-knuckled death grip.
Because this is the first time ever (over eight years!) that I will spend the night away from my kids. Sure, the Princess has stayed over at the Grandparents’ before. And the Bear went over while I was birthing Moo. But we’re taking about staying in a whole separate town! I have to be honest here, I kind of panicked when I hit the “submit” button for the hotel reservation. What if someone gets hurt? What if the Bear eats fish? What if the Princess’ glasses break? What if they miss me? What if? What if?
What if I don’t know how to exist any more without constantly momming all the time?
This is a far cry from the days when I thought Jack Kerouac was a good role model. When I would go anywhere, try anything, and think about how close I had come to real harm later. I don’t want to go back there, but there has got to be a middle ground. I really, truly need to get out more. It just never occurred to me before. And now it’s excruciating to loosen my grip.
This is a good way to start. The Bigs stay home, but I do get to take along Moo since she is still nursing a bazillion times a day. And my mom – an erstwhile teacher who wants to see the workshops and curriculums, too – is coming along, so we’ll get to have a conversation that doesn’t get interrupted by anyone but our waiter. I think I will like it.
A sign that the Bear is coming along okay, despite my many flaws in parenting:
Bear: Are we going to the farmer’s market today? Moi: Yup. Bear: Can we get kettle corn with Grandpa? Moi: Yup. Bear: And sugar snap peas? Can we buy sugar snap peas? Moi: Sure, if they have any… Bear: Yaaaaay! Sugar snap peas!! Thank you, God, for making sugar snap peas!
