I've just been thinking lately, being a mom to two kids is hard. I know what you're going to say, "Try having 3! or 4!" I'm sure that is true, but right now I have two, and it's a struggle. The other day Roseleigh started crying, ready to be fed. As I was getting ready to nurse her Denver started crying for snuggles. As you may know, Denver is one of the least snuggly kids I know. He just can't sit still that long. My first thought was to just brush him off because he's bigger and he needs to understand Rosie needs me. I can't let her be hungry, and if I leave her crying in her swing she won't understand why I have left her in such a state. But then I looked in to my crazy haired, goofy, fun loving kids eyes and saw need. I'd been brushing him off for weeks I'm sure, trying to figure out this mothering two thing, and wondering how I would handle it, that he had been playing on the floor and watching endless TV trying to figure out how he could handle it. This boy, this tiny child who I love so dearly was reaching out to me in his very last resort for attention. "Snuggles, Mommy." With one arm holding a nursing baby, I reached out with my other and tucked him into me as close as possible. His crazy hair brushed against my face, and his breathing settled into a rhythm as he watched yet another episode of Paw Patrol. I have spent hours snuggling this child, from carrying him in my belly, to nursing, through every sickness, comforting him from scraped knees and bonked heads. He is my first baby whom I have slaved over, given everything and then some. I feel terrible letting him fade into the background as he is overshadowed by this new tiny presence who has constant physical needs. I feel like I am always nagging at him from the couch while nursing to "get out of the pantry," and "stop climbing the cabinets" and "for the love of all that is holy, get out of the pantry!" And then, just as I think I can't handle it anymore, he changes. He grows up a little more. He listens better, he picks up his toys, he doesn't throw any tantrums, he sweetly sings "I love to see the temple" intermittently with "Wheels on the bus go round and round.....and round and round and round and round....." His vocabulary bursts and he talks instead of whines and tells me "That's amazing!" and "Christmas? Santa? Trains? HOORAY!" Then as I see this I get sad. I look at Rosie and how tiny she is and remember that he was once that tiny. Time is such a terrible thing. I so often wish for him to be just a bit older so he will maybe be just a bit better behaved or get better at communicating or listening. I just need to remember that he is still little too. He needs snuggles. He needs me to sing Wheels on the Bus for the umpteenth time. He needs me to listen to him just as much as I need him to listen to me. These children will forever teach me more than anyone else ever could. What tiny, exhausting, beautiful, terrible, wonderful, little miraculous blessings they are. And that is something that I need to remember.
