I've come back here over this past year time and time again. I have about three unfinished drafts hiding out in my folder. I hate when things are incomplete. I hate seeing that pending word in my bank account. I hate hearing from contractors that we are still waiting on plan approvals....but I'm learning to let go and be ok with unfinished projects or drafts.
My baby boy went and turned one on me. He's walking quite independently. He climbs independently too. Scaring me to scattered bits. I was his one true love from birth to about last month. He doesn't need his mama right now. He doesn't need my incessant kisses or my hugs of reassurance. He wants his dad to hold him and rock him to sleep. He doesn't need me to sing, "You are my Sunshine, my only SONshine" to him when he is upset. He's changing too.
I think given the choice of describing me as a traditionalist or changeable, my family would most definitely choose traditionalist. I'm not big on change for the most part. Sure, it's needed in most things. It's inevitable, I get that. But I feel like I have to mourn the past in stead of celebrate the past when things start to change. Even if it is for the best, or, inevitable.
My oldest is four now. Isabella loves to draw and color and use her paints. She loves dancing and Elsa from Frozen (what four year old girl doesn't right now?) and she likes making her parents happy. She is my people pleaser. She is such a great listener and she loves to help around the house. She is the ultimate big sister always looking after Julianna and Robert. She runs to me every time Robert puts something in his mouth. "Mom!!! Robert put ______ in his mouth"
The other day it was my tampon. It wasn't used so don't freak out too much. But it sure was funny. It was Mother's Day morning and I was trying, in vain, to sleep in. The kids were playing, running in and out of our room. Back and forth from my room to the loft. Then I hear it,
I: "Mom! Robert has your coupons!"
ME: "What coupons?"
I: "You know, the ones you put in your vagina."
ME: "My vagina? What!?! Those aren't coupons, those are tampons!!! Robert!! Get those out of your mouth!"
She's my oldest in every possible way. She is the one I urge to help me clean up the little ones' messes. She's the one I tell, "Look after your brother, I'll be watching from inside" and she's the one who gets the many thank yous for helping me all day long. I love that kid so much. She has a big heart and whimsy spirit.
My baby girl, Julianna is now three. I think turning three has helped with the "terrible twos" attitude. She is ornery. I say that with the most love, sincerely. She is hard headed and she screams at everyone. She uses the word no a lot. But...she has the sweetest touch. She loves animals a whole lot, especial dogs. She does better with dogs than she does with people. She must sense the sincerity in dogs and the flakiness in people. So go ahead baby girl. Love those dogs. She loves her brother even though it may look like she is trying to tackle him or beat him up, she is really just trying to give him a hug. When she is being nice, its a real nice. Not just a being friendly nice.
She will be my battle. We're going to bump heads and disagree a whole lot. She is me all over again. She challenges people to be better and honest and true. That part is all her. She's genuine wether she's being bratty or sweet. She's making herself heard and seen. A tough feat being the middle child. She's doing a great job.
I'm changing. I'm no longer a mama to babies. Well I still have one baby, my boy. But now I'm evolving into a mama of a school age kid. Kindergarten is upon us, folks. I have a little three year old who's not the youngest and not the oldest. I'm mothering her through that dilemma. We're changing. Bobby and I as parents and the kids as, well kids. It's hard to think that Juju will never fit snug in my arms again. I remember rocking her all through the night when she was a baby. We told secrets and I sang to her. I might never get that tingling feeling of hearing an infant cry. The tingling coming from dread that the baby woke up and the happiness that I'm needed to rescue a hungry baby. Our family is changing. A better word, we're growing. There "growing" isn't too scary.