Look at my baby. My big girl. My Ella. (The boy is my nephew, 18 weeks older than Amelia but same size as Ella)
Because you can’t see their teeth, these two could be 8 and 10 instead of 3 and 5. They are growing up. I knew it would happen. My dad tells me that all the time so it must be true. But it’s hard to see when you’re in the trenches all day and all night. Now that I get some time to myself (currently 15 hours but I had to pay good money for even that), I can see how much older they really are.
Diapers have been replaced by the world’s smallest briefs (because bikinis on a Kindergartener? Ew). We are down to just a couple of sippy cups. A pile of crayons and a coloring book can actually entertain them for a good while. You know, before they fight over the same crayon. Or Ella will holler at Amelia for scribbling.
I get help unloading the dishwasher. And sorting laundry. They wash their hair independently although I do dispense the shampoo. We’ve lost more than one entire bottle to wall scrubbing. We read books without pictures.
I know that I’ve said it before but I’m really looking forward to the two of them growing up. Not that I don’t like this stage. I really do. But I’m ready for them to really be able to help. And the reading. Oh my. I can’t wait for the reading. I’d like them to end a fight on their own and not me having to clean marker off a face or dislodge fingers from hair. Wait? Does that ever end? How old am I?
And then there’s this:
So last night I’m taking full advantage of the Netflix online feature and I’m watching “The Business of Being Born.” For real. I’ve been wanting to watch that since it came out. It’s a documentary produced by Rikki Lake (the one and the only) about home births. Now, I’m not a total whackaloon but I totally have baby lust right now. The movie featured no less than 6 home births and a couple of hospital births. And then there’s the new, sticky baby nursing. Oh-em-gee. Somebody bring me a newborn, please. For like three days. Or maybe three months. I can’t turn off this feeling that I’m not done yet.
Apparently, I’m neurotic too. We all know that at 34, partnerless and kind of funny looking…well, odds aren’t good. But I still have that feeling.
And just when I had a handle on the parenting thing. I have two hands, two children and that’s just right.
Baby lust is a powerful thing. But I think it’s worse when you’ve had births like mine. You know what an amazing high it is to bring another life into the world.