Growing

When I see pictures of teeny newborn babies, Oh, I want a newborn baby. My chest gets all heavy and my eyes get all teary and I just want to snuggle that new floppy little pumpkin pie. I remember the days my own kids were born and a brand new person was put in my arms. I remember the first things I said to them and exactly how they looked. I think of little fingers with the long long nails and the little squirrel feet that always seem too big and impossibly small. How the diapers were practically smaller than your hand, but the little bear just swam in it. Oh, I miss it. The newborn stage goes away so fast.

But really really really, when pressed, I would most likely say that I am mostly fine with the no more babies status of our family. Because, even though I would love to have a newborn, a newborn becomes a KID in about 10 seconds flat. And I can barely handle the kids I've got. Honey has some work thing tonight and somehow I have managed to schedule back to back swimming lessons for 2 hours right at the time the baby would be wanting to go to bed for the night. Yeah. So, I get to go and make sure no one drowns while wrangling a 10-month-old that I can't actually put down. I am seriously considering bringing the pack and play just for a small reprieve if I have to fish Jelly out of the pool. (This really won't happen...I think.) I never bring all three of them anywhere by myself and honestly, I don't like to go places like the store or even out to eat as a family. That sounds awful and in my head it is the most perfect thing to do, but reality is nearly never pleasant. Waves of anxiety envelop my psyche. I get twitchy. Someone is going to get lost or run over by a bus or eat a peanut, so help me god. We're all going to die, so can we just please get back in the minivan and go home?

Perhaps I need to speak to a professional about this. *Ahem*

Growing up has its good points. You know who, just within the past few months has turned into my favorite person to hang out with? Brother. Ten seems like such a great age. He is funny. He tells jokes and they are actually funny! No more nonsensical knock-knock jokes! Hallelujah! He makes puns and word plays. And he asks me questions and listens to the answers. He has the best smile and I love to crack him up. But he is still young enough to let me give him great big hugs. He tells me he loves me. This might be my salvation. I never thought that I would like the older kid phase as much as the baby phase, but there is that potential. Maybe it will be ok after all.