Real Life: poked breasts and other fun times

It’s taken me some time to figure out how to describe my adjustment to life with two kids. Actually, everything these days is taking me “some time”. Mostly I find it difficult to complete anything–a thought, a sentence, getting ready for the day (which is why you get Instagram documentation anytime it happens)–now that there are more kids than Moms at home. Even sex got interrupted, and never finished, the other night, because of these two…which is saying something, as our kids go to bed early and are supposed to stay asleep. Because that’s what they had been doing for all the other nights before that one. Oh, I’m sorry. TMI? Welcome to my life.

Anytime I feed Graham I hear, “Mommy boob! BOOOOB!!”, followed by a poke, poke, poke (yep, on my actual breast). From Remy. Not Graham. But wouldn’t that just add a little more zest to the party if he was talking already?! I bring up early developments, because just yesterday he decided to try and flip over in his crib, AT 7 WEEKS OLD, and then lose his mind over how awesome he is (because, yes, he ROLLED OVER). And then proceed to lose his mind further (if you’re not reading between the lines, I’m talking about screaming and wailing at ungodly decibel), because he didn’t want to, or couldn’t decide to, sleep on his tummy or back. I’m not impressed by early bloomers.

Although blooming earlier on this whole parenthood thing could’ve had its benefits, had the cards been dealt a little differently. I mean, I’m looking at you 20-24 year old moms and thinking, “GIVE ME YOUR ENERGY! Or I will take it from you like a Dementor…”. Cackling ensues until it wears me out to exhaustion and I’m found later in a slump with a sign urging kids to “Stay in School”. Sadly, at 29, things are already feeling quite tiring. Prepare yourselves.

But for my want of energy, I have a plethora of perspective; wisdom that I didn’t have at that age. For me, early parenthood would not have been the right timing. I needed my life experiences to help me through this time. To appreciate this time. As hard as things are, I do not wish they would hurry up into the next stage. Because, oh my. Remy’s sweetest little exclamations when I tell her that the baby is waking up and we can go visit him. “Baby, babyyyy!”, she’s yelling out 4 steps ahead of me and up the stairs to get to Graham. And her willingness to bring me anything that the baby “needs”. It is honestly a little strange that if the baby’s needs are involved, she will do anything I ask her to do! She’s two. Is she supposed to listen to anything I ask of her?? Then there’s Graham baby with his dimpled half smile that curls up easier than butter melts on hot toast. I’m weaker than the butter, I assure you. I know his frequent smiles are a perfectly timed blessing reminding me of the abundance of insanely undeserved good present in my life, despite this being the hardest adjustment I’ve ever made. He stares at Remy like she is queen of all and I fall apart at their pure, true love for one another.

Love. It’s the reason my house is a wreck half of the time, and I’m burning dinner (or forgetting to season it altogether) nightly, and my mom is rescuing me at least one day a week, and why I’m often physically stuck at home, and yet more emotionally progressed (?) than I ever imagined I could be. One love brought me two loves and those two loves brought me here. Those two loves also can take me away from negativity in an instant, because of the love they have for each other, for me, for Sam. It’s an endless cycle and it keeps me moving toward a higher love. It makes me appreciate God’s gifts to me and His love for me. It’s over-powering at times. I am blessed that it is with me at all times. I am constantly lifted up by LOVE.

And that makes every poked breast and interrupted romance worth it.