When I was pregnant with Braeden, I was a school teacher. The other teachers...most of them my own mother's age...were thrilled by my pregnancy. They sprinkled me with motherly advice and often, often told me things like, "Well, you're about to get busy." and "Your life is going to change."
I sort of believed them that I'd get busy but I didn't really know how. I mean, I wouldn't be teaching school anymore. How busy would I be?
Busy enough that I thought I may curl up and die.
Then I added Emma to the mix and thought, "How was THIS ever hard? One little newborn is a breeze!" And on and on.
I continue to look back with fondness at how busy my life wasn't.
When Braeden was 3 and Emma was 1, I know that I thought I was busy. For the life of me I can't remember what I was busy doing. When I think back on that time of my life, it feels cozy and warm. If I think hard enough I remember lonely and overwhelmed but I can't remember why I was busy.
We had a pretty good routine. At 9:00 each morning, Braeden would watch Little Bear and Blue's Clues on Nick Jr. After lunch both little cherubs would nap. Adam got off work at 5:00 and he had a 10-15 minute drive home from his job on Yale's campus. Sometimes I'd go to pick him up (if I'd needed the car that day...we only had one). Once a week I went to playgroup. We went to the library too.
Does that sound busy? Or like a vacation?
I've always adored Little Bear. It reminds me of Braeden and Emma and snug days in an apartment in Hamden, Connecticut. I was thrilled when Mark read it for school. Braeden was thrilled too. He said, "Little Bear!" and sat down to listen to the story.
Last night after dinner, and with a dish of ice cream balanced on each of our knees, our whole family watched a half hour of Little Bear on DVD. Mark had never seen it and that had to be remedied.
I wanted to cry from the nostalgia I felt for those simple days of routines and sippy cups and graham crackers. I looked over at my son draped on the couch with his big feet and long limbs.
He was my little bear (sniff).
And if I could talk to Thelma-10-years-ago I would scoff and say, "You are NOT busy, silly."
Will there be a time that I look back on NOW and think, "How could I have possibly thought I was busy?"
Sheesh. It's a scary thought. Surely not. There won't be days ahead that are busier than homeschooling three children and carting them off to various pools to swim. It won't get busier than this trying to squeeze in dentist and doctor and orthodontist appointments and laundry and keeping the house clean-ish and Target and Costco and Albertson's and what's for lunch and what's for dinner and visiting teaching and will you drive me over to my friend's house and the library and the van making a weird noise and on and on and on.
There's no way.
So I felt somewhat relieved.
This is as busy as it gets.
Then I remembered that in a few years, we will begin our 10 year stint of early (6:00 a.m.) morning seminary.
I'm going to go take a preemptive nap.
In all my spare time.
3 comments:
Just moments ago I picked up a spilling sippy cup and tried to pick graham cracker crumbs out of the carpet while helping to zip coats and wash faces... so this post offers me a little bit of comfort & perspective, and a little bit of fear. It's going to get crazier than this? I hoped it was going to get less crazy. Maybe just different crazy? I'm already tired though. Is that a bad sign? Regardless, I'm glad I'll continue to have you to offer encouragement and advice.
It's just different crazy. There's glory in children than can put on their own shoes and buckle their own seat belts.
Also, they can be left home alone. That in itself is bliss.
Since you haven't had a one-year-old in a little while, I'll remind you: everyday they get into 17 things they're not supposed to and make huge messes that they can't clean up themselves. There are several diaper and clothes changes a day. They can't put away their own laundry--they can't even take a bath without you there watching. There's still the shopping, cooking, what's for lunch? trouble. Plus, when you go shopping you have to unbuckle them, take them in the cart (unless they scream and want you to hold them the whole time you push your cart through the store). When you get home you unload them and your groceries (which they certainly can't help with)--they want you to hold them while you put the groceries away. If you haven't heard from them in awhile, you fear they have choked on something and you're glad when you find they have only been slathering vaseline all over their bodies and putting your toothbrush in the toilet.
Sorry. I should have written my own post. It's nice that you can remember everything so fondly. I think you were busy, and I know you're busy now. I think it's just different busy.
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