Thursday, May 22, 2014

the answer to "how's it going with three?"

Were you to ask, "How is it, being a mom of three?" I'd tell you it was wonderful. My heart is at peace. Our family feels wonderfully complete. And Henry is a dream. Really, truly, a dream. Having three sons is, for me, the marrow of life. It's one of the best, most valuable part. And I am setting aside every drop of expendable energy to ensure that I thoroughly soak in all of these moments of sweetness. 

For some reason, three makes me pause life with my heart. I'm no longer trying to plan our days, I'm savoring our days. I feel a big like a turtle who, if it were possible, desires to tuck her whole family inside her shell, wanting for nothing to invade.

I'd tell you I'm as exhausted as one IS with a newborn, but when said newborn only wakes twice each night between the hours of 11pm-7am, it could be MUCH worse. And even these sleepy, incoherent twilight hours are spent in quiet appreciation.... savoring. Taking mental pictures so that I can remember it later.

I'd tell you that the logistics of actually mothering THREE children has been....dare I say it??....cake. {picture me now, physically grimacing and waiting for the chaos to strike!! NO ONE is stupid enough to utter that, are they? ARE THEY!??!} But seriously, this is the easy part. It's a newborn. All they do is eat and sleep. Well, that's all this one does. And this is my third time doing this part. I know what the cries mean, we have seamlessly embraced a schedule, and he will sleep anywhere. Aside from the fact that it now takes me yyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrsssssssssss to go ANYWHERE, I feel like I've got this part. Now, that being said, ask me again in a year when Henry is now a walker who wants to keep sticking his finger in the electrical socket and won't leave my favorite decorative rhinoceros alone,(yes, that's a real thing) and I'm sure I'll feel differently. But this world we are in right now is beautifully familiar to me. So for this time, it feels simple. I will also point out that we are only 13 days into the journey, only 3 of which I've spent alone. Give it time for the exhaustion to truly kick in and the dirt to accrue in my house. I'm quite confident my answer will be different then, my friend. But had you asked, this would be my answer for the now.

On the practical side, I'd tell you my lower back is killing me and I have a sinus infection that WILL. NOT. go away. I haven't breathed through both nostrils for more than three glorious seconds in over two weeks. And I have a migraine that comes and goes. But aside from that my body is pretty well put back together, so it feels, and I think that's amazing. I will allow it these complaints. It has served me well.

I'd tell you that watching Roman and Liam love on Henry is something that never gets old. They honestly adore him. He is one of them, already. Welcomed instantly. And they tell me, daily, the list of things they can't wait for him to be able to do with them. Important things. Like eating corn on the cob and running and playing monster. 

And the way they love Henry is expressed in their own, personal way. Liam's love is haphazard and hazardous. Just like Liam lives life. Poor Henry James will be lucky to survive this brother's love. But it is even more special, then, that I have had {on more than a handful of occasions} to shoo Liam out of Henry's crib while the smallest babe naps because his big brother wanted to rub his head and watch him sleep. Roman's love is gentle and fiercely protective. And he is already, and rightfully so, the adoration of Henry's entire being. Where Roman's voice is, there Huck's face will be. Searching. Tracking. Bobbing, as if to say, "You're my hero forever, big brother." 

I've been really struck lately by the belief that a sibling is the best thing I can give to my boys. (And no, before you suggest it, they don't need more. haha!) Their brothers are better than any toy they will ever get. They will know them better in certain ways than anyone else ever can, simply because they were raised in the same town and house by the same parents and will have spent the same vacations together. And their brothers will stand beside them to walk life with them when I can be no more. I believe, in my motherly heart of hearts, that I have given them my best. 

I'd tell you I'm emotional.
                       Ha.             Ha.              
I know. I usually have the emotional thing down pretty well on any given day. Pregnancy just exacerbates the fire and childbirth inspires the tears. It's all normal, postpartum. It's not that I'm even sad, per se. It's just that I get these glimpses of the days when Roman is driving, or Liam is too busy with his friends to want my snuggles any more, or Henry has moved out, and darn it all if that isn't just the hardest thing. It's so easy to be in a season of life and assume that the particular season is just "how it's going to be from now on." Except it will never be the always. Life is fluid; it's always changing. And even though those are sad days to think about, it will also be a season filled with more date nights with that man-o-mine, less spit up on my shirt, and much less to do when trying to simply get out the door to go somewhere. I'm looking forward to more face-to-face time with my husband and less side-to-side teamwork. I'm so very grateful that every season has its own sweetness to offer.

And I'd tell you, lastly, that I have hit an all-time low. I am a big, fat liar!! Let it be said that I place 100% of the blame of this moral collapse on the Athens Salted Caramel and Honey Greek yogurt that Target forced me to put in my cart. After the boys ate half the container yesterday, I pushed it to the back of the fridge and moved the leftover ziti to the front, assuming that they would forget it the way most children do. A little "out of sight, out of mind" action. Wrong. Today Roman asked me for some of the caramel yogurt, and out of my mouth I heard the ugly lie uttered. "It's all gone. We ate all of it yesterday." I squeaked, while all the saliva fled my mouth and left my tongue to fend for itself.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, during nap time, that precious time of day when I "should have been sleeping," there I was- feet tucked underneath my body while perched on the couch, knobby fingers clutching the tub to my chest, my own little Gollum peeking out from my loving exterior.

It just goes to show you that motherhood will destroy a girl, no matter how strong she may be. And today I'd tell you I learned one more thing about myself: I may share my uterus with a little person...... but apparently I will not share my yogurt.

1 comment:

  1. Beautifully written by a very wise lady! I am enjoying these little snippets that remind me of the good ol' days before teenagers. At least I have my little 5 year-old but these yummy days are fleeting. Glad to see that you are drinking them in.