Hands off

A lot of my girlfriends are finally having their first kids, some are on to the second. I'm beginning to realize the difference between the stages in parenting and I'm finding relief from what I'm discovering.

So many of my friends are all, "THREE KIDS?! How do you DO it?" And I'm all, "Ummm...I just, do?"

These girlfriends devote all of their time and energy to Kid 1, and of course Kid 2 if it applies. Most of them are SAHMs because I'm thinking, really you guys, that if we do work as mothers we're sort of frowned upon. Let's face it. We are expected to throw aside our goals, dreams, and professional aspirations to raising our kids. Or we satisfy all of those dreams and aspirations before having the family, but I don't know about that. What I do know is staying at home to parent children is of course a tremendous feat in itself while adding FULL TIME WORK on top of it means you're Super Mom. Or a selfish bitch, depending on who you ask.

What I'm really witnessing here is the different stages of parenting. I did my Kid 1 and Kid 2 obsessing when these girls were still worrying about which bar to go to. Of course, I would rather die than miss the party so I'd try to meet up with them, puking into bathroom sinks at 10:00, then pumping and dumping my beer infused breastmilk. Priorities, people! I devoted much of my time entertaining Allie and Gil, worrying about their soda intake and exposure to sugary snacks. Rigid schedule keeping and bathing every other day. Doing arts and crafts all day. Television watching for a two-year-old? Nothing but minimal PBS and maybe Baby Einstein.

I was just telling a girlfriend about Egan's exposure to things I'd never even dream of letting him experience if he were Kid 1. Or Kid 2. Nope, welcome Kid 3. Kid 3 knows the difference between Bob the Builder and Handy Manny, drinks soda when given the opportunity, stays up late, AND WILL GO WITHOUT A NAP!

My point here, dear readers, isn't about you and your parenting. It's about me and mine. You guys are doing the little kid stuff while I have moved onto the pre-teen big kid stuff. Having discussions about girlfriend drama and crushes with the same little girl who used to toddle up to me in her plastic footed one piece PJs, whispy hair in ever-requested "nuggets," asking me, "How are doin, Mom?" Or when not quite finished with her snack would announce, "I save it to later." Now I have to beg her to let me even think about putting her hair in nuggets. Or braids. Or ponytails. Apparently I don't know as much about fashion as I thought I did.

As I'm surrounded by you newer moms I found myself questioning the amount of interaction I have with my kids. With a sigh of relief, the big kid phase is far more hands-off. With the exception of Kid 3, Kid 1 & Kid 2 are independently brushing their own teeth, bathing themselves, playing outside for hours on end, packing their lunches for first and fourth grade. They read to me often times at bedtime. They even read to Kid 3 from time to time, giving me the opportunity to snuggle while reading but with my eyes closed. Until I'm woken up by Egan clip-clopping around in dancin shoes, asking me to paint his nails.

All's I'm saying, Internet, is that things change when your kids get older. You kind of feel like you still need to give them the same amount of hands-ON attention, when really, after you adjust and pat yourself on the back for a job well done with the little kid phase, it's a lot more hands-OFF.

Scooby Doo, where are you?

Our spare house key mysteriously appeared in the lock of our back door this morning. Kid-driven hyjinx? That's what I'm thinking, although both big kids denied it and Egan's up vacationing in Waverly. This mystery has my brow furrowed and my brain gears turning.

Did I go wandering about locking and unlocking doors with our spare key in a Zoloft-induced sleep walk? Did someone find it on the sidewalk and responsibly put it where it obviously belongs with our last name and address on it? What if they made a copy first? Or are now squatting in my basement! Before we left this morning I went down and surveyed the creepy, empty, squatterless basement. No evidence of unwanted visitors ... with the exception of spider web crowded corners and one of those Million Legged bugs dead at the foot of the stairs.

"What if we have a burglar?" Gil asked on the way to the Y. As if having a burglar is like having a bat in the attic. Or an overloaded lint trap in the dryer.

The other night

As a commercial for teeth whitener interrupted our Charlie Brown Christmas, Egan turns to his brother and gently asks in almost a whisper: Gil? Are your teeth white?

Seven

Last night Jon and I were discussing how difficult it is to remember our kids as babies or little kids. Granted they're all still "little," some littler than others. When you first get them, there seems to be no continuum. The crazy notion of them actually growing to become individuals with whom you can carry lengthy conversations - send your kid to Catholic school and she comes home in kindergarten asking for the exact explanation for creationism - leaves you all, "Wha?" Try thinking of that as you bathe your baby for the umpteenth time, swabbing the last two meals worth of leftovers from under the folds in his neck. It's all so foreign when you start this whole parenting/family thing, focusing solely on diaper changing and cutting portions of food into minute, anti-choking morsels of nourishment. Like how extensively boiling vegetables takes the nutrients out of the carrots or broccoli.

It all happens pretty fast and I'm sure there's absolutely no way of truly preparing oneself for the ride. Gil is no exception.



I totally remember taking this picture of him, being SUCH A BIG BOY! sitting all by himself. I was just recalling his birth story this morning as he and Jon were making rice krispy treats - WITH M&Ms! - to share at school today. Somehow all those details flush from a mom's memory; they're there, yet seem light years ago but also just like yesterday. Apparently they become replaced by current experiences.


Experiences like gaining confidence in casting. This was Gil's favorite past time this summer.

A humbling reminder to continue loving each of my kids even more than I did the day before.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy.