Lately I've been freaking out. Amelia is almost 6 months. Emily and Andrew are 4.5 and almost 3.5 respectively. Things that I once dreamed about are now happening and it just seems like life is on constant fast forward. I am thrilled about some of the things that are happening - like our new house - but not so thrilled about my kids getting so big so fast! There are moments when I just want to press pause.
Today, I was sitting on the couch reading Andrew a story. He and I were giggling as we made up different versions of what the story (all including poop because that is the funniest thing to a 3, 4, and 5 year-old). Amelia was sitting in my lap, alternating between smiling at Andrew and at the book. Emily was helping Ben cook in the kitchen. Things were just so perfect.
These moments are happening more frequently lately. I feel like I can actually enjoy my time with my children because 1) I'm taking classes at the local University which allows me to get out of the house and 2) I know that we will soon be leaving our cramped living quarters.
Recently, as I leave the house and return, I find myself giddy with anticipation knowing that I will soon see my babies. They will run to me, and I will pick them up and swing them wildly around -- all except Amelia who I will smother with kisses and refuse to put down for the rest of the evening. Night time isn't the intensely frustrating experience it has been. That doesn't mean I like that Emily and Andrew will not fall asleep until well after 9 or 10, nor does it mean that once we get into a place where routine is possible the kids bedtime will once again be set in stone; but, I don't feel the frustration bubbling out of my frustrated body. I can breathe in and go talk to the kids rather than stomp and pout.
As tends to happen during infancy, Amelia is growing faster than I would like and cuter by the minute. She can now roll all over the floor and off of things (which she did as I went to grab her diaper and mistakenly left her unattended on the couch). She loves to giggle and play with her siblings. She loves to giggle and play with me. She just loves to giggle and play. It seems strange to say this, but she's just the type of baby that people want to hold - including me. She is so happy and cuddly. So sweet and tender. And just easy.
Emily is constantly stunning me with her brilliance. (As her mom, I reserve the right to think of her as the most brilliant child alive.) She sounds out letters and words, understands punctuation marks, works through simple math problems (like 3 + 3), plays with money correctly, rhymes, sings, dances, reads, and constructs beautifully complex imaginative narratives that keep her and her brother entertained for hours. She is happy one minute and angry the next but is always willing to laugh when I tell her favorite joke (that, of course, has to do with poop). She adores her sister and will help her in anyway she can. She calls Andrew her "best fwend" and plays with him often. She is just my sweet, tenacious, vivacious, and stubborn 4 year-old.
Andrew is the sweetest and goofiest little boy. He loves to make silly faces and perform silly acts. He stomps and jumps and performs hilarious acrobats designed to make us all laugh. He gives me the cheesiest, cutest grins just to see me smile. I'm letting his hair grow out - much to Ben's disapproval - because I want to see his curls again before the hot summer necessitates cutting them off again. He is learning his alphabet through bodily functions and fire trucks and I am just happy that he wants to learn. He likes to cuddle next to me at bed time and gives me kisses on demand. He loves to hold and snuggle his sister, Amelia. He considers Emily is best friend. He is my sweet, angelic, and trouble-making boy.
Ben and I continue to live out our adult lives ever mindful of how fast our children are growing. Ben recently received a promotion - a huge opportunity for him - and I am absolutely proud of his hard work and dedication that brought him to this point. He works, comes home and plays with the kids, cleans up the house, cooks dinner, and never once complains (except for at 9:45 pm when the kids have come out for the millionth time but by that point I've also reached my max). He is the love of my life and the best father to our children.
As I alluded to before, I have returned to school. I don't really want to say more than that as I'd rather keep my goals and desires private, at least until I have a more tightly constructed future.
All in all, we are glad to have made it through this difficult year. I am glad to have reached a place of contentment with mothering that even on those days when I fight the urge to pull out my hair, I can still hug, kiss, and talk kindly to my babies.
Maybe I shouldn't be asking my children to stop growing so fast and should focus on how lucky I am to have seen them in each of these stages while simultaneously watching them grow into intelligent, capable girls and boy.
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