Sometimes I get this feeling that my blogging experience is becoming a one string guitar. “Hey everyone, hold your babies!” “Don’t forget to hold your babies when you’re busy!” “Keep your littles close! Don’t forget the moments!” Then yesterday happens. And I don’t regret any piece of it.
Yesterday I avoided most social media as the flooding of tragedy and fear filled the screens. A Mamma’s heart can only handle so much so it was best I just sat back and turned off devices, and hugged my small ones a little tighter.
As night fell and a certain 9 month old decided that the night was young, I let my mind begin to wander. I read the news reports. I read the political drama that was ensuing. I saw the pictures of weeping families.
And I looked at my baby.
Realities hit deep when there is tragedy. There is no guarantee that today when we go to the library for a cookie exchange a gunman won’t open fire on the unsuspecting crowd because he just HATES cookies. There’s no guarantee today that a bus won’t cream us we walk through the parking lot. There’s no guarantee today that those who are alive and well today will be alive and well tomorrow.
So I joined that masses of mamma’s that hugged their babies closer. I looked deeper into their eyes, I breathed in their little one smells and watched them sleep. Our days are a gift, and oh, the hopes that heaven brings.
Tonight, it’s late. There are littles sprawled throughout my room, as they have been all week long while daddy is away at a conference. Little puzzle pieces of legs, arms, and tiny bodies finding a comfortable spot on the bed or mattress on the floor. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
As much as we miss our daddy while he’s gone, I think this week has been a much needed week for these growing littles of mine. This week there have been endless talks of life and learning. We’ve read from the Horse and His Boy hours into the night, while their tired eyes begged for one more chapter, just so we could find out who was walking next to Shasta. We’ve adventured to a picnic at the park with a special stop on the way home at an ice cream shop. They’ve played. And I’ve listened.
I’m reminded this week how easy it is to miss their growing up. From right underneath my nose in the day to day, they grow up.
Our little number 3 turned 2. She mastered the art of the potty, and in a weeks time is now insisting on doing everything “big.” And I’m remembering her beginnings, on a bus, with those tiny folded hands. Just like that, she’s not the baby. One of the team now.
Our oldest little, I’m finding is no longer a little. She’s a big. With hair that shines red in the sun, eyes that sparkle green, and a splash of freckles across her nose just to give the passerby a double take.
And not to be outdone our little formerly known as middle has lost the very last remains of the baby only a mamma can see. Her face has thinned out. Her hair now down to her shoulders, her legs long and thin.
One, two, three, four littles growing up so quickly, right out from under my nose. If I don’t soak it in now, these moments will be lost forever. Making me grateful for a week to take them in. To watch them breath at night, and feel their little feet kicking on my legs, trying to find room on the bed. If I don’t slow down just enough to breath them in, and watch them grow, I fear I’ll miss some of the greatest things about living this life.
Oh, how I’m grateful for these feet on my bed.
Dear Season 4,
Here we are. Just days–or weeks in my case–away from your big debut. We’re about to go from being a small tribe to a regular old tribe. No more small cars for this family. You, season 4 are expanding us in so many ways.
When our first season was born, I remember promising in my heart that I would always make a huge deal out of each pregnancy. I didn’t want any subsequent children after season 1 to feel like they weren’t as important, or as thought about. As the littles have come, and now here your arrival as season 4 is quickly approaching, I realize how immature that idea was.
There has been nothing more satisfying then happily just expecting you. You’ve found your place in this family with out fanfare. You’ve grown inside me as though this is just the way it should be.
I like that.
I like being comfortable with you. I like happily expecting you. I like enjoying our relationship of kicks and hiccups with out great fanfare.
I’m learning that growing up is so much fun. It was special and extravagant to have season 1. It was grand rite of passage of womanhood that I didn’t know existed. Now, with you, season 4, you are a grand comfort and expectancy of motherhood. I was so wrong to ever think that enjoying the comforts of having “another” little was a slap in the face to that little. No, it is a great honor.
You season 4, you are a welcomed comfort.
Tonight as I kissed her forehead goodnight, she told me how much she loves to cook. As she kissed mine I told her how much I loved to watch her cook.
and the result….
Those are butterfly cut out peanut butter and jelly’s with sprinkles on top. Please don’t fail to mention the decor underneath the plate–That’s feathers and other fancies.
Also included, but not appearing were apples topped with sprinkles, and neatly placed in little snowflake mini cupcake papers, as well as water with apple slices on the rim–girl can improvise when no lemons are found!
I love how their minds work. Most of all, I love watching their little minds learning.
I’m expecting a bit of a slow breath out this week. Welcoming in January, and the adventures of 2012. Mostly me catching up with glamourous things like laundry. Things that have been solidly neglected for the last couple of weeks.
and the girls? They’re working on making the most adventure of every regular moment.
the moments I love most.
I’ve been thinking that six is the year. Six is the year where the big things happen. Things that define the jump from a pre-school mindset to full blown little girl.
If her birthday party of rollercoasters–the big rollercoasters, NOT the little ones–didn’t clue me in, I should have known come mastering reading, learning to whistle–on her own I might add,— learning to tie her shoes, and taking on the biggest of big sledding hills.
And she, being the first born, doesn’t realize this, but these are big deals for a mamma too. I feel like I need some sort of badges for each step of the way. Kind of like scouts, only probably on an apron, or something equally as “mom.” It’s a big deal to watch your little grow.
All this to say, tonight was one of those nights. It was her first debut on the stage in a Christmas play.
No big deal right? Not really. Except for the fact that she’s never done this before. And it’s a big deal to be a wise man in a christmas play when you’re six. It’s a big deal to memorize and learn new songs, and it’s a big deal to go to things like practices with out your mamma by your side.
She took her next step in her growing up journey, and I got my badge to put on my apron. Great job biggest little. You’ll soon just be my big.