The past two weeks have been a blur of joy and smiles and wrapping paper and frosting and sprinkles. On April 21st, Miles turned three, and on May 1st, Grant turned one. It seems like I say this with every age/milestone we meet, but really, these are my favorite ages (right now).
Miles is at an age of discovery and wonder, and to see the world through the eyes of a three year old is a magical thing. Grant is at an age where we no longer need bottles, multiple naps or baby food; officially veering on toddler. He follows his big brother and bravely tries to do everything that Miles does, and it’s amazing to watch him grow. We’re hitting a sweet spot in parenting, and it’s so awesome.
But do you know what happens when you enter a sweet spot? When life is getting really easy? Your hormones try to trick you. Because someone you know is definitely pregnant, and someone else you know definitely has a newborn. You see that tiny little baby, swaddled in a flannel receiving blanket, blissful face of milk induced sleep, and you think, “Let me just smell the baby. Okay, let me just hold the baby. Let me take a small, soft bite of the baby.” And your hormones are all, “YOU NEED A SMALL SOFT BABY TO NIBBLE! YOU NEED A BABY TO WEAR AND ROCK AND PUT TINY LITTLE SOCKS ON! YOU NEED SOMEONE BESIDES THE CAT WEARING ONESIES AGAIN!”
And your hormones make you think yes, you’re right, we need another one!
But your brain, your sweet, logical brain, helps you get back on track. Babies are so awesome. Babies are wonderful, they are truly blessings, and there is no greater joy I have found than being called Mama. BUT…when your family is complete, you know it’s complete. And we feel complete.
We have reached a time when Grant is finally finally FINALLY sleeping for twelve straight hours at night, praise the angels of sleep. I switched from Café Bustelo to just REGULAR COFFEE. And I still feel like a human. Miles can put away his own laundry, help water the plants, and put more sprinkles on the cupcakes than in his mouth. The boys play together, and I can just sit and watch and drink wine. The DVR is empty. I am reading books. MY NAILS ARE PAINTED. Evan and I might even go out for an adult meal during dark hours alone. Oh yes, this is the sweet spot.
But every night when I put Grant to bed, after we read and rock a bit, I recognize his toddlerness and I realize I will never rock a baby of my own to sleep again. The bittersweet feeling of the end of infancy is upon me, and I’ll fondly remember those newborn days and my hormones say well, maybe…
I see a mama wearing her tiny baby, wrapped sweetly to her chest, and it seems like it was just yesterday that I was wearing a baby on my chest, snuggled up close to my heart. And my hormones say well, we could always…
I pack up the baby clothes and know that this time, I’m giving them away, but my hormones say hold on a minute…
Then I make PB&J for the kids’ lunch and wonder if I should really give this to them, or just open face the sandwiches and directly apply the jelly to obscure places in the house that I will touch and step in but never actually find so that I carry about my day slightly sticky and obsessively searching for strawberry preserves, and I think, “yes, we are complete.”
And before you say anything, of course I know God has a plan, and sometimes we get together and our plans match and sometimes the unexpected happens. So could God surprise us? Sure, he created the entire universe in seven days, so surprising us wouldn’t be an impossibility. But it would be one heck of a surprise.
And before you speculate anything, know that I am not pregnant but that I am under the influence of allergy medication and red wine, and this post was inspired by a damn Publix Mother’s Day commercial because if there’s anything that tricks your hormones, it’s a Publix commercial. I can’t even have proper holiday salt and pepper shakers without crying.
DAMN YOU, PUBLIX.