Growth spurt

The family needed a little 'pick-me-up', so we piled the kids in the car, got a dog-sitter for the night, and headed west about 45 minutes to a hotel with an indoor pool and a breakfast buffet. The kids loved it. They swam with dad, tried out the mini golf course, and we got to eat dinner at Uno's.

As we pulled back into the parking lot, we noticed a big tour bus filled with kids stopped in front of the hotel entrance. Sure enough, a middle school group was bunking at the hotel for the night. It wasn't five minutes after we had gotten the kids in bed that we heard the pre-teen revelry begin. Our room overlooked the pool courtyard, which the group had quickly discovered. Our 7 year old was indignant; "Why do they get to stay up and go swimming?" My response: "When you're in middle school and go on an overnight trip, you can go swimming at night too."

While Dad did bedtime cuddling, I took the baby out on the balcony and watched the group. It was cute - the girls played in the pool, while the boys claimed the hot tub. One brave boy played the hero and ventured into the pool, getting splashed by all the girls for his efforts. Some non-swimmers lingered by the pool, shouting to their friends in the water. Others gathered around the ping-pong table, starting short-lived games. All around, animated smiles, nonstop chatter, shrieks of delight. Their faces were still so young, but their arms and legs were gangly, especially the boys. I watched them for a while, enjoying their joy in their momentary freedom, away from mom and dad and home, testing their (well-supervised) independence. Swimming at night! No parents to obey! All the vending machine drinks and snacks you want! I remember this pseudo-liberation and the bravado that went along with it.

As I stood watching this scene, I thought about my own dear 7 year old and tried to imagine where he would be in this group. Ping-pong? Hot tub? Would he be the one to brave the girls-only pool or would he be on the bench with his friends, eating Doritos and chugging his Coke? What kind of a kid will he be in five years? Will he be the funny one? Will he still like school? Will he maintain his friendships with his girl friends, or will he shun them? Is he going to hit his growth spurt early or be the late bloomer? Will he be as articulate as he is now or withdraw into himself? I felt impatient to know, to figure him out.

I thought all this while nuzzling the milky head of my almost 2-month old. She is holding her big bobble-head up pretty well, and has just recently started to give us tentative smiles. I love it - and loathe it. Every week takes me further from the newborn stage. Every week turns into every month turns into every year...and then she's crawling and walking and talking and she's not a baby anymore. No more gummy smiles, no more tiny fists, no more tiny bodies. I'm not ready for it to end.

And I realize that this is the way life is. I have to give up some good stuff to get some other good stuff. The sleepy newborn gives way to the smiley infant. The gummy smile gives way to the cute little first tooth. The tiny body gives way to the growing girl. The sweet baby gives way to the chattering toddler who gives way to the funny preschooler who gives way to the clever 2nd grader who will eventually give way to the future middle schooler who I can't wait to know.

Bring it on.

Hands full

The baby was asleep, the 2 year old down for her nap, and the 4 year old settled into his computer games. I was ready to tackle some work. Then the phone rang. It was the school calling to let me know that the 7 year old had a fever and would I please come pick him up? So sleeping baby into the snowsuit and carseat, 4 year old lured away from the computer with the promise that we'll be gone for just a few minutes and of course he can do computer games as soon as we get back, and at the last possible moment, the 2 year old gently awakened and coated and into the car - socks, no shoes.

Of course, nothing is easy, so when the 7 year started screaming in pain as soon as he was picked up, I called the doctor, and we didn't even go home. One and a half hours later, we had a diagnosis and a prescription. I checked the time, hoping to get right to the store to avoid rush hour, and realized that the baby needed to nurse. So home after all, feed the baby, give out snack, listen the the forecast for snow, realize that preparing dinner isn't going to happen tonight, and remember that we're out of milk and toilet paper. Quick decision to dine at Chick-fil-A on the way to Target to get all errands done at once.

Chick-fil-A first, three kids meals, baby gets hungry while we're eating. Visions of a quick dinner fade as I settle in for the minimum 30 minutes. 2 year old drinks brother's lemonade while he's not looking. Brother gets upset. 2 year old then drinks other brother's chocolate milk while he's not looking. Other brother mildly annoyed. 7 year old asks for ice cream, which 4 year old and 2 year old quickly second. Send all kids up to counter to trade their toys for ice cream. Watch helplessly from other side of table with nursing infant as 2 year old makes ice cream mess. Get everyone cleaned up and back to the van in 42 minutes and on to Target.

7:12 p.m. Bedtime was supposed to be 7:00 because of shortened naps today. 7:00 turns out to also be the time that the pharmacy closes. Errand #1 shot. Milk and toilet paper still on the needs list. Baby seat in the cart, 7 yr old and 2 yr old in the cart too. 4 yr old hanging off the side. Quick quick quick, I think. Almost to the toilet paper aisle, 4 yr old shouts "I need to poop now!" U-turn back to the bathrooms. 2 yr old says she needs to go too. I look at her bundled up in her coat, and decide that her Pull-ups will suffice for the bathroom this time.

Second attempt to get to the toilet paper aisle, baby starts crying, 2 yr old wants out of the cart, 7 yr old complains that 2 yr old is stepping on his hand, 4 yr old is asking if we can buy every product that we pass. I put my head down and resolve to just power through when an older woman catches my eye.

"You have your hands full!" she says.

Ear infections, interrupted naps, grouchy kids from said interrupted naps, inconvenient nursing schedules. Entertaining two well kids in a doctor's waiting room for far too long, explaining to a sick 7 year old that we can't go right home, pharmacy hours that are 12 minutes too short for my schedule.

Laundry that piles up seemingly overnight, crayons constantly underfoot, dinners reheated, refused, and sometimes regurgitated. Bickering, hitting, screeching, wrestling, crying.

Sweet morning breath, fish kisses, sticky hands against my cheek, colored pictures just for me, silly faces, baking helpers, mixers, and tasters. Awkward somersaults, hopping, jumping, climbing, toddler races, 'look at me, Mom!'

Quiet bedtime cuddles, boo-boo hugs, papers from school with 'Great job!' across the top, brothers holding their little sister's hands, laughing, giggling, smiling, snorting even. A 2 year old surprised smile as she exclaims, 'I di it mom! I di it!'

Hands around my waist, my leg, my chest, my arm, my neck. Sleepy heads on my shoulder, sleeping infants heavy on my chest.

"Yeah", I smile back at the woman in the aisle. "I really do."