Not a whole lotta free time these days to just sit and write, and honestly, I've felt lately like I don't have much of anything to say that would be interesting or thought provoking. I sit down to try to write a blog post, you know, one with more than just gobs of pictures of my kids, and my mind just goes blah, like I've already hit my word quota for the day. I'm pretty sure I talk more during any given day now than I ever did in high school or college. Actually, I'm confident about that. Mind you, much of the stuff I say requires absolutely zero imagination and only utters my lips in an effort to keep someone from tee-teeing on the couch or doing something that might land us in the hospital for the night.
Then there are some moments that pop up like an unexpected root in the ground, one that kind of trips you up, and I realize that the words that I'm about to speak actually mean something to my children, that they are waiting on me to say the right thing and that pivotal moment might be molding them into who they're meant to be...
And five seconds later I'm asking Lael to please stop slicking Salem's hair back with her spit.
I'm living in a constant state of doing laundry, feeding mouths, picking things up off the floor and more picking things up off the floor. Trey will come home from work and ask how my day was and what I did. I tell him I've been cleaning up all day. And picking things up off the floor. And there are still things on the floor. And then I pick something up off the floor. This is my life.
Now, before I go and sound all "Debbie Downer" I do have to say that God has so graciously given me a joy in doing these mundane tasks. Nah, a lot of it really isn't that much fun and I'm not happy about constantly having to pick things up off the floor, but deep down in the dirty soil (and oh, it's dirty) of my mothering job, there is a joy and a love for what I have been called to.
People are always asking me how it is to have three children and what the transition was like from two to three. I ask this of other women, too but mine is now about going from three to four.
I'm being completely honest when I say that it really isn't all that different to have three. So, if you have two right now, go ahead, take the plunge, go for the third!!
Going from one to two kinda rocked me. Like, whoa, I don't really get a break anymore, rocked me. Like, these people have kinda taken over my whole life, rocked me. Like, someone get me a drink(!), rocked me. Two kids is full. time. Somebody always needed something to eat, someone had always just pooped, chances were that at least one of them was whining or crying and the laundry started to be fo realz. Messes got made REAL fast and picking things up off the floor (there it is again) was no joke. So, to sum it up, my day completely revolved around caring for my offspring, and not that it wasn't that way with just one, but with two things just get a little cray cray.
Enter child numero tres. I was so sure that this one was just gonna be that completely chill, go with the flow, relaxed third child. Negative. She is a high maintenance kind of girl. Of the three of them I think she has cried the most, but the funny thing is I've probably dealt with it better than I ever have. Maybe it's because in the back of my mind I know now that this season is so short, that I can only do what I can do and that she isn't going to die from crying. I just haven't been able to come to her rescue as easily as I was able the first and second time and sometimes she has to wait her turn even when she's screaming her head off and thinks she's about to starve to death. Speaking of, sometimes I wonder why in the world an infant's cry has to be so insanely maddening. Y'all, Salem can straight up scuh-ream, and I'm convinced that God made babies this way in order to keep the human race in existence because any mother will just about move heaven and earth to get a boob or a bottle in that baby's mouth to SHUT THEM UP.
She does look pretty darn angelic and I must admit that I'm such a sucker. There are many moments in my day when I think, "Why, child?!! What is wrong NOW?!" I go pick up that little ball of sugar, (I know, I know, sappy, sappy) she looks me in the eyes, gives me that big ol' gummy grin and I swear I feel like my heart skips a beat.
One might be inclined to think that the third baby gets no love. Quite the contrary. Salem gets loved on by her big sisters more than she probably likes sometimes and my bond with her has been just as sweet, just as tightly woven and just as special as it was with the other two. My nursing experience with her has been my best yet and I count it joy to be able to give of myself in this way for her benefit. There is nothing in the world like it.
Three little girls. I never could have imagined it. Never. We all could go on and on about how much we love our babies and what amazing miracles they are and how they are just the most beautiful beings we've ever laid our eyes on, but in all seriousness my mind is blown as I think of each of them in their beds at this very moment that I'm writing this. Three separate little people that Trey and I have created who we are responsible for. I still feel like I'm 21 years old. I'm still using the same hair brush that I bought in college and I'm pretty sure there are some socks in my drawer that I've had since high school. Yet, in my house right now exist three amazing miracles and they are the most beautiful beings I've ever laid my eyes on. Life's inertia is shocking and unbelievable and heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same time. These three children are making the pace of my life move quickly and it's all I can do to stop and breathe in the sweet mess that it is.
Speaking of mess...
I need to go pick one up off the floor.