The sun shone today, for real. It was bright and warm and there was a big enough patch of snow melted on our side lawn that I was able to lay down a big, sisal mat and serve peanut butter and jam sandwiches with apple slices and carrots to an incredibly pleased pair of children. Despite the fact that I am an admitted homebody, and do love my home immensely, I have felt lately the creeping crank of cabin fever setting in. I began to come home from school drop off and feel like I could hardly bear to figure out what to do with two girls with such diverse interests and abilities... and I would (and do) yearn for a nice, warm sandbox with a pile of buckets and shovels and maybe a few pails of warmish water to boot.
And so today we moved out, temporarily of course, but it was celebratory to be able to open a window and flush out some of the germs and dust and to make dinner and see that the toys I'd picked up last night still lay neatly in their spots, as we'd spent the whole day outdoors. This life will return.
I am over 30 weeks pregnant, which I suppose puts me technically somewhere in the middle of mky 31st week. It has taken me a while with this one to put on a good girth, but I've got one now. All of the sudden, somewhere over the past week, I feel very pregnant. I look longingly at the toys on the floor, willing them to pick themselves up. I feel thankful for the fact that my parents' dog is staying with us for a few weeks as it means I don't have to wipe up any messes off the floor after mealtimes. And all the things that a pregnant lady ordinarily cringes to do, I cringe, and I also have Fiona Clementine on my hip.
Fiona Clementine is an adorably petite little thing. She's now 16 months old but most people take her for around a year or less. She weighs in at about 17 and 3/4 pounds right now, talks a blue streak (we've made lists of words she can say on her own, as opposed to mimicking us, and the list was over 100 words) and she is now starting to put 2 and sometimes 3 words together. So how wonderful that this little fairy sprite can talk, for at least I know what she's thinking about and what she wants. But the one thing I could really use would be for her to learn to walk, because it's really hard to play outside in mud season when you won't walk. And I say "won't" because Fiona is strong, she stands on her own and will squat to pick things up, and stand back up, and do this repeatedly, and her balance is super. She walks quickly and efficiently holding one or two hands or pushing something, but she will not try walking without a hand. Of course I appreciate this aspect of her personality in some ways, with physical tasks she practices and practices with help until she can do things perfectly and with confidence, and only then will she venture out on her own. But right now I'm just really hoping that as the snow continues to melt and we start to be outside more, that she'll realize that running around with a ball is so much more fun than plowing through the snow and mud on your hands and knees. And, oh, there's also the part where I wouldn't have to bend over and pick her up again, and again, and again.
I'm really going to have another baby sometime rather soon, I'm beginning to realize... and I realize this with the most incredible and bizarre mix of delight and fear. Given that Liam was born only 11 months after Charlotte's birth, I always felt like I wanted to have the experience of having two children close in age. I think there's a part of me that feels anxious that I won't be good at this, that somehow having these two children closer in age than any I've had before will crush my romantic, beautiful vision of Charlotte and Liam as the two children whom I obviously would have raised harmoniously and without complaint if only I had had the privilege to do so. I know this will be hard, and I want to allow myself the wisdom and freedom to burst into tears when I need to, when the two babies and the guilt and the exhaustion push me into a place where tears are what I need. I want to allow myself to know that I could have raised Liam and Charlotte together, and to feel grateful that I have been given the privilege of reclaiming this tiny portion of my imaginary life with all my children in my clutches.
I just really can't get over that I'm having another baby. I feel so lucky, which scares me, because does this mean I'm assuming that I'm lucky, rather than unlucky?
I hope I'm lucky. (this being a day full of the luck of the Irish)
5 comments:
I've always heard that the late walkers are the cautious ones. I've found that to be true with my own children as well. My early walker is the one who jumps off of high things without thinking, gets hurt and then proceeds to laugh saying "That was COOL!!!!"
My others tend to study their surroundings then make what they feel is the most appropriate choice. lol
You're already lucky, just so unlucky as well. I hope you get lucky again this time, and I appreciated your thoughts on wanting to raise two babes close together. As you're right, you should have already done this one before.
xo
My Phoebe is 16 months and hardly says 20 words. She will, however, take off like a rocket on her own two feet. No two children are ever very much alike, are they? Now i am thinking it will be a novelty for her to have a little brother to pull around and talk his ears off, if indeed, a brother it be!
I was a late walker. The one who wanted to do it without falling.
I was the last child in the neighbourhood to ditch the training wheels on my bike. I did not want to fall. Ever.
And yes, I have continued to be cautious my whole life. It is just part of who I am. Maybe Fiona is like that too. If so, you might be like my mom who says she lucked out having a daughter who she didn't worry would make 'bad choices'.
But do remind Fiona as she ages...sometimes it is okay to risk falling. I've heard you can have a lot of fun that way.
I am glad I found your blog. Unless you ask otherwise I will post a link to it from one of my blogs.
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