This year, my needs were small but significant. I needed
outdoor winter gear for my kids. Sadly, I didn’t get much of what I needed, due
to lack of selection in my kids’ size. Oh well.
So, I was browsing the sale and found myself walking by the
table with nursing pillows. Next to said table was a couple. The woman was
sporting an impressive baby bump and the man was sporting eyes so wide and
panicky that I couldn’t help but laugh. As the soon to be parents eyed the
pillow suspiciously (not sure what they were waiting for it to do…) I walked
alongside.
Me: “I loved that pillow. It’s the best”
Woman: (with a bright and relieved smile) “Oh really? So it
really works?”
Me: “Oh yeah. Totally”.
Man: (said nothing. Just stood there speechless)
And then another woman walked by entering the conversation.
Other woman: “Oh yeah. I loved this pillow too!”
Man: (finally finding words) “But how do you pick them up at
the same time to put them on?”
Me and Other woman: (accidentally speaking at the same time
and laughing like crazy after the fact) “You scoop them!”
And we proceed to provide a visual demonstration of “scooping”
two babies simultaneously, using both arms and words to explain. Just picture a
baby lying with its feet facing you, and sliding your hands under the butt, up
its back and under the head. Then, you bend down and lift both babies so their
heads rest on your shoulders and stand back up. The fact that we were doing
this sans baby made it even funnier. It
was a scene, I assure you!
Man: (with a thoughtful expression) “But aren’t they too
heavy?”
Me: “No. When they get too heavy to scoop, they can hold their
heads up by themselves so it doesn’t matter as much.”
Man and Woman: (with awed expressions) “ohhhhhhhh”.
For those of you that
watch animated movies, the “ohhhhh” sounded like the 3 eyed Martians in the
claw toy when Buzz Lightyear lands and they are worshipping him. That little
ripple moving across their mouths. I kid you not.
Approximately 5 years ago, that was my husband and me. Me,
sporting the bump. Him, sporting the glazed and terrified expression. I
remember staring at all the baby paraphernalia and wondering how anyone knew
what to do with it all. It was overwhelming. I remember sweating even though it
wasn’t hot. I remember the onset of a headache even though I wasn’t sick or
particularly. My husband commented on being exceedingly thirsty despite having
had plenty to drink. Amazing how anxiety takes over your body.
And now my kids are almost five. Where has the time gone?
This time, as I passed the infant section, I paused for a
moment to remember and reminisce. The tiny little pajamas that somehow fit my
kids in a former life. The bottle carriers and swaddling blankets that no
longer have any place in my life. The silly little musical toys that are no
longer interesting.
Let’s be honest. I don’t want more kids. I want my current
kids, but I’m good with two. I don’t want three. My heart doesn’t ache for a
new baby, despite my love of caring for other people’s babies. I am totally content
to be the auntie and to pass that precious little bundle back when it’s time to
go home. I love that my kids can walk on their own and be spoken to like
people. I love that they clear their own plates from the table and can go fetch
things for me when I don’t have hands. I love that I can send them down to the
basement/playroom or outside to our fenced in backyard without direct
supervision. It’s liberating.
And I LOVE that they have the words to tell me what’s wrong.
It’s somewhat like looking back on your high school years
and reminiscing on the funny lunchroom conversations. I have no urge to be a
high school student again, but I wouldn’t mind reliving just one lunch for
posterity.
And while this anxious couple doesn’t know it yet, five
years from now it will be them. Giving the advice. Calmly joking about the baby
scoop. Gazing emotionally at tiny clothing.
In the meantime, I send them strength and patience for the
hard times. And joy for the good ones.
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