So, I've been holding on to everything baby since Sean was a baby. This made sense, because when Gia came along the swing, jumperoo, playmat, etc. were reinstated. Now, all but the high chair are outgrown and I need to say goodbye to these things that clutter my house and that my niece needs for her baby born just over a week ago. But how to let go?
I imagine a third baby, even though I am half dead with the two I'm raising now. Eric is at peace with two children, and I'm certain this is a financially motivated decision on his part not to mention that we are not spring chickens at 38 and 36 years old (he's the older one!).
I'm having trouble accepting the fact that I'm most likely done. It must be biological, this feeling I have, as if once the baby switch goes on, I feel a drive to create more. The two I have are wonderful, so why can't I stop there and be happy and done with it? I think of my half sisters' children, three apiece, and those third children in the line-up are such great kids. I am my mother's third. What if she had stopped at two? I imagine my third floating around in space wondering if I will let them in.
So, I'm going through the motions as if I am done making babies. I'm getting the baby stuff together for departure from my house. The hardest by far are the clothes. I'm going through them painfully (Sean's clothes, for my niece's new baby is a boy) and can't believe he was ever so small (he's not yet 3). I picture him in this outfit and that one and my throat gets tight. I am mourning my babies even though Gia is just shy of 8 mos. and still very much a baby.
Sean had my undivided attention, and Gia is forced to share. Do I even play with her? I'm certain I was reading books to Sean by this age that she's at but haven't even picked up one for her. It angers me that I don't have or make time to play with her as I would like. I can't retrieve moments back. I don't know why I am being so damn dramatic about it. It is not as if I never had children. People say, "enjoy this time, you don't get it back" and "they are only so little for so long" and this sends me into a panic because my time with my children feels like sand slipping through my fingers. I am so exhausted. Gia does not sleep as Sean didn't. I reach the end of each day with a nagging threat of regret that I just didn't enjoy it as I should have. Or maybe I am and am too tired to realize it.
Sean is starting preschool in 15 days. He'll be going 5 days a week, 3 hours a day. I think he's bored as hell around here with me and the TV and his baby sister. This will be something that is all his and is a good thing. I have to keep telling myself that. I need to find a way to face these little goodbyes.
xo
p.s. Sean, you call suitcases "supercases" - so cute, my little man...
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
seashells
Sean.
You love playing with this small vase of seashells I have in the downstairs bathroom. You make a mess of them, break some, but I always let you take them into the living room where I find them strewn about later.
I've been terrible at not writing. Not even in a journal. You are nearly 2 and a half and there are some things you should know:
You love to laugh and have a good time. You are a real jokester.
During bedtime awhile back, I asked you what your grey stuffed monkey's name was. You said "Boney." Now Boney is a fixture in your bed at night.
You call gummies 'tummies' and we give you a Flintstone gummy vitamin first and then you can have regular gummies after if you want. You refuse to eat orange popsicles or gummy bears. Grapes are your favorite fruit as of late, it was blueberries.
You love going out to eat and often say "bye eat" when we are driving away from a restaurant. You love quesadilla and can say quesadilla and you love even the hottest salsa and chips.
At Faxon Park, you told two older Irish kids (who were with their grandfather) that you loved them. Your daddy (who witnessed this) said they didn't know what to do. He said they looked as if they don't get told that a lot.
You are a big brother now. Gia is nearly 5 months old and such a love. She cries a lot (as babies will and maybe more) and you always deal with it pretty well. You hang on to her for dear life and cover her with kisses. You introduce her to strangers at the plaza. You love the plaza - the pet store, really. Sometimes you press too hard on her stomach or swat at her with your play broom, but I sense that you bear no ill will towards her. This gives me peace somehow.
There are a million things about you. I must think of more.
You say "cheers" with us and knock glasses together and drink. You prefer fist bumps to hi-fives.
You wear size 8 Converse sneakers.
You laugh at us when we get mad, as if you know we aren't really mad.
You watch entirely too much TV (our fault).
You are NOT a good sleeper. You wake up and call for us and most times Daddy has to go in because I have Gia with me. We still smile at you in the morning. haha.
xo
You love playing with this small vase of seashells I have in the downstairs bathroom. You make a mess of them, break some, but I always let you take them into the living room where I find them strewn about later.
I've been terrible at not writing. Not even in a journal. You are nearly 2 and a half and there are some things you should know:
You love to laugh and have a good time. You are a real jokester.
During bedtime awhile back, I asked you what your grey stuffed monkey's name was. You said "Boney." Now Boney is a fixture in your bed at night.
You call gummies 'tummies' and we give you a Flintstone gummy vitamin first and then you can have regular gummies after if you want. You refuse to eat orange popsicles or gummy bears. Grapes are your favorite fruit as of late, it was blueberries.
You love going out to eat and often say "bye eat" when we are driving away from a restaurant. You love quesadilla and can say quesadilla and you love even the hottest salsa and chips.
At Faxon Park, you told two older Irish kids (who were with their grandfather) that you loved them. Your daddy (who witnessed this) said they didn't know what to do. He said they looked as if they don't get told that a lot.
You are a big brother now. Gia is nearly 5 months old and such a love. She cries a lot (as babies will and maybe more) and you always deal with it pretty well. You hang on to her for dear life and cover her with kisses. You introduce her to strangers at the plaza. You love the plaza - the pet store, really. Sometimes you press too hard on her stomach or swat at her with your play broom, but I sense that you bear no ill will towards her. This gives me peace somehow.
There are a million things about you. I must think of more.
You say "cheers" with us and knock glasses together and drink. You prefer fist bumps to hi-fives.
You wear size 8 Converse sneakers.
You laugh at us when we get mad, as if you know we aren't really mad.
You watch entirely too much TV (our fault).
You are NOT a good sleeper. You wake up and call for us and most times Daddy has to go in because I have Gia with me. We still smile at you in the morning. haha.
xo
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