At this point, the kids are just such a part of me and my day that it feels like it’s always been that way. It feels like I was born and they were born right behind me and that we’ve been living this life side by side forever.
That’s not true, of course. I know that. I’ve done more, had more time. But still, the years B.K. (Before Kid) seem so far back there that I really have to squint and travel hard in reverse through a mean headwind just to have a little taste of all that freedom and downtime I used to know. And I know it’s the same thing for Monica. We’ve come a long way as parents, and that’s a really beautiful thing. But we’ve also run a long way from who we were/from who we still are way down.
“We’re still two fiery passionate raging souls, right…right?!!!?”
We ask that one to each other with just our eyes, our eyebrows climbing a quarter inch up our faces and then dropping again. Two gaunt hungry ghosts staring at each other across a steaming rubble field of plastic dinosaurs and snapped crayons and little socks abandoned in the chaos.
So, yes: We have discovered that kids take their toll on your time and your energy and your physical being. And your soul.
But we have also been pretty quick to realize and remind ourselves that, truth is, we are really lucky to have such a problem, huh? We are really pretty damn fortunate to be who we are, here and now, and to have gotten here on the small but mighty backs of the two most amazing and magical people we have ever known: our kids.
Then, me and her, we come back around to that question again, just like a lot of parents do.
Is there another little kid out there somewhere, we wonder at each other. Is there one more cool little soul out there, hanging off a dim star, waiting to let go and glide down into this big beautiful mess we have created?
I was tucking Violet in bed last night, cuddling, reading her stories and it was just such a joy. Sheer happiness bubbling in my soul and out my ears and mouth and eyes, spilling all over the place. One of those parenting moments you often hope for but rarely happens because the kid hates the shirt you put on or wants milk not juice or can’t find that one random toy. But last night my girl and I were reading together and laughing and joking and she was loving on me and smiling at me and my heart was up in my throat because I just love that kid so damn much.
As I left I told her I loved her and she said “I wuv you too, mama” and she blew me a kiss, I blew her a kiss and we simultaneously put our hands up to mime catching each other’s kisses and said “caught it”.
Had to stand outside her door and catch my breath before swooning downstairs to try and articulate it all to Serge.
I love being a mom. I love being a family. But being pregnant doesn’t come easy to me. And the first year of a child’s life? Fuggeddabout it. It’s tough. I’m just now climbing out of the well after giving birth to Henry a year ago and it hasn’t been easy. On the flip side – it isn’t ALL bad. It’s exciting, too. And what’s a year or so of difficulty if the reward is bringing a new life to our family and making us feel complete? The more parenting time we get under our belts, the better we get at the whole thing.
I don’t know. How does anyone decide to have a third kid when they already have one of each gender? How did you know? It’s what Serge and I are yapping about in this week’s video:
More He Said/She Said: