“You know our Friends are DUE next week?!” I said to my husband as the realization of the imminent birth date hit me. “Huh?” he responded looking up briefly from his Facebook Scrabble game. I stretched out on the sofa with my foot up on his shoulder and said, “Can you IMAGINE having to go through that?”
Now, please note that it is 8:15 pm and we are both (both) downstairs doing absolutely nothing of any significance. We are doing so much of nothing that I’ve even given up flipping mindlessly between tabs on my computer hoping for something new to happen in the world, but notice that…
I’m TOO tired and yet I’m not doing a dang thing! In other words, we are ENJOYING a night of doing nothing – absolutely nothing.
“However could this happen?” you might ask. “Don’t you have a two-year old and a one-year old?”
“Yes. Yes. Why yes we do. And both kids were tucked into bed at the same time by dad and fell asleep within minutes while I stayed downstairs and did dishes – just like that,” I say with an offhand gesture and shoulder shrug as if this is a common occurence.
(We recognize that the ease of the evening (the last two evenings) might be balanced out by middle of the night vomitting, tears, or just extremely early wake ups, but for now we are enjoying it fully)
Anyway, back to my thought on the sofa about the friends due to have a baby next week…
I can’t FATHOM going through that birth process again. Well, I can – In some perverse way I’d like to try it again and see if I could do it and feel more centered during the process, but I recognize that that is not a good enough reason to initiate pregnancy. And I recognize that if I WAS pregnant, then I’d have the energy that comes with the excitement. But what I can’t even slightly begin to wrap my energy reserves around is the months after the birth where the baby is up in the middle of the night.
It’s funny because I thought of the first few months as being the easiest because the newborn slept so frequently, but now the thought of having to be up in the middle of the night for any reason sounds inexplicably grueling. Inexplicably.
And, admittedly, I’m not really a baby person. Some people see babies and yearn to hold them and coo to them and rock them. Not so much for me. I yearned for my own babies once I had them and I loved holding them and all that stuff, but I think they are SO much more fun at the ages they are now.
And little girl is starting to TALK! She hasn’t really articulated much yet, but she is telling us stuff left and right and very earnestly using her head to nod yes and no. It’s a hoot talking with her and being constantly amazed at how much she understands and how much she is learning each day.
My kids are a great age and as much as I might mourn my little boy starting to leave behind his little boyness, I think that the new things he is learning each day is so much fun to be a part of. Just tonight he giggled and flapped his arms up and down in unrestrained excitement when he heard that “Tomorrow we’ll open door EIGHT on the advent calendar.” Smiling as I type – he’s so dang cute.
And really, everything about this month so far has been good.
I love that we are in the midst of a couple good hearty snowstorms and that going to work means bundling up kids and trudging through snowdrifts. I love that our house is cleaner than it was a few weeks ago and that we’ve decorated and made it feel cozy inside. I love that my husband and I are becoming a pretty good parenting team and I love that I might look out the window tomorrow and see even more snow.
But as much as I’m enjoying it all, I’m still rather worn out by the end of the day so I’m not going to abuse my newfound appreciation for the present moment of my life with any more projects or “shoulds”, but instead I am going to go to bed early and I am going to appreciate like crazy that we are not having a baby next week.
And, I am going to try to be excited for our friends because surely they are excited and it is an exciting thing, but secretly (well, as secretly as one can be posting a blog), I think it sounds like a miserably exhausting adventure they are on for the next six months – possibly a year and I can’t help thinking that next year come Christmas they will once again by happy like we are.
(I feel I need to clarify….I LOVED the last two years and wouldn’t want to trade any part of it (aside from a few nights when I had the flu and the kids had the flu and everything was miserable). I really did love the time. I just don’t want to do it again.)