I was starting to put together a pretty thoughtful entry full of newly learned wisdom, some tough lessons, and even a recipe (yes, I turned into that blogger momentarily) and then it happened.
In a pretty monotone voice (as if your college-summer flame just walked right through your kitchen door like he was coming over for supper) I said, "Oh my freaking goodness." And then the newest member of the Bagwell Academy of Manners and Excellence exclaimed even louder, "OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS!" I gulped remembering that #threeyearoldsrepeateverything but carried on with my excitement by simultaneously making out with my 5 month olds cheeks and cuddling his little feet in my arms.
I fear writing this little anecdote because I know when #2 looks back in years to come he will vow to not help me with my sponge bath in my old age due to the obvious lack of obsession that I had over him as a baby compared to his 21 month younger sibling. But I just cant let this get by.
I am OVER THE TOP for this little baby. It's bad. My ovaries literally sing (and cringe) when I look at him knowing that any baby fever I have left in my tired body starts to boil. It's not healthy, yall.
Don't misunderstand me I have loved each of these boys with everything in me and it has literally hurt to watch them grow into little people but for some reason Mr. Stork put an extra dose of yumminess in this newest one and it has caused me (and my marriage) serious trouble. I know like everyone does that this immobile, extra Pillsbury-dough boyish, big eyed, cooing, only satisfied in me stage doesnt last long but this time around this stage is soooo good that it makes me think I could do this three more times in the next three years. And trust me, I haven't made it to the shower yet today, I've lost my temper thrice and apologized twice, and my three year old asked why my booty was poking out this morning as I was getting on my (dirty) yoga pants. AND I WANT TO KEEP ADDING TO THIS MADNESS (only in the moments when I look at #3 and he melts my heart which unfortunately for my husband is ALL THE TIME! EVERYDAY! AND AT NIGHT WHEN I WAKE HIM UP TO FEED HIM NOT BECAUSE HE IS HUNGRY BUT BECAUSE I WANT TO HOLD HIM!)
This post is going to be the post I call "THE TIME I USED ALL CAPITALS TO TRY TO EXPRESS MY GUT-WRENCHING FASCINATION WITH MY 3rd CHILD!"
So back to the "Oh my freaking goodness" comment....As if my insides couldnt dance or scream anymore over this little one he went and did the thing I dreaded. The thing I have always wanted but hoped it would never really happen because I knew that would be the last straw. And of course today he went there and it's over. I'm done.
He sucked his precious-ooey-gooey-fattened-2 rolls before the knuckle RIGHT thumb just like I did as a little baby (and almost until I started school.) Aghhhhh!!!!!
Can you handle that? I mean, I know it's not your child and I know I am sounding like that typical mom whom other women have started blogs over or something but I only relay all this because I need serious help. As we "speak" the toddler monster is walking around in his Bulldawg helmet getting ready for Halloween having already found my stash of tootsie rolls. He some how got them into his bed for his nap and I came in to find all FIVE wrappers stuck somewhere to his bed or body. Please call me and rescue me. Tell me that my babbling, THUMB sucking, always happy little baby boy WILL (repeat it WILL) one day crush my heart and dissappoint me and probably even marry a bigger city girl and run off and get married to her and never come to see me. Come to my house and take me outside, ugg house slippers, those same yoga pants and all and literally squeeze my cheeks and WAKE ME UP! How could I possibly after the third baby now want a whole bunch of babies? This is how.
And this is why.
He waits with his mouth opened in a perfect "O" shape when anyone walks by just wondering if they will look his way.
He eats his fist when he is hungry, ne'ry a cry.
He can't move because he is a little overstuffed so when he gets excited he slams both of his legs down at the same time over and over as if he is clapping with his legs.
His eyes sparkle.
HE SUCKS HIS RIGHT THUMB and doesnt even really know how to do it yet so he looks even more scrumptious.
He is the only thing I've ever known that is 110% satisfied with just me. Now, I know this is a little weird were it to continue but it touches my little mushy heart. And it makes me think about my desire to be FULLY satisfied in Jesus.
He giggles if you even glance his way.
He sleeps in the car, in the bed, in the swing, in your arms. Is this for real?
He makes those precious baby sounds everytime he eats reminding me just how relaxed he is in my arms.
He completes our family in ways I never knew possible.
But mostly (and here come the hormonal tears) he reminds me of the miracle that he was for our family. At a time when I was at the lowest that I never knew existed he was Gods answer to me. Somehow God knew the unthinkable, a pregnancy while using an IUD for birth control would be the thing to help reset my year of insomnia. And as I write this he is tooting like an 80 year old man after bar-b-que. Pure love.
Now please don't think I am slighting my other darlings. Once you have kids you do finally get that you and your siblings were all "equally loved unequally" meaning loved as much but differently if that can happen. I think it can. Again, it is a picture of the Fathers love for us - were all loved more than we could ever know but also loved personally and individually. Many of my 3-time moms have agreed with me on this. For some reason the third time really is a charm and in my case it makes me want to keep going and complete our little basketball team. There I go again. Call in the reinforcements NOW (before my husband gets home). But I guess by #3 you aren't stressed about whether you are doing it right now because you know it all works out anyway and you aren't feeling guilty like you did after your 2nd by ruining both #1 and #2's life for ever having to divide your time between two needy little people. There is an ease, a joy, a confidence, and energy, and a sense of peace despite being pulled and pushed and yanked and screamed into three different directions. And, that my friends, is why my husband may never sleep in the same room with me again.
Can Anyone Really Be “Blameless”?
4 hours ago