Day Tripper

This week is Spring Break for my children; five days of fun, right?

Days like today make me think back to when I was mothering them full-time, before they were enrolled in school. Days where we would wake up without a schedule to worry about; we'd spend the days together, running errands, spending time in the community, hanging out at home. I did my paid work in the evenings (makes me sound like a prostitute), so my days were truly centered around my children's needs.

Those days, when my children were younger, felt like they'd never fucking end. Days would start at 6am, and by 4pm I'd be wondering whether it was too early to put them down for bedtime. Seriously, it just stretched on. and on. and on. But then something happened, and time seemed to just pass me by. The first day I brought my daughter and son to preschool ON THE SAME DAY and left by myself, I cried. I knew this was the end of an era. I was no longer in the stage of lazy days, exploring the world with my little ones. Instead, they were enrolled in preschool programs, and I was spending my mornings working. We were all expected to show up at a certain time, and suddenly my children and I were very independent of one another for three hours every morning. It felt sad and fucking amazing at the same time. My babies!!! My sweet daughter and darling son!!! Mommy misses you!!! And at the same time, THANK YOU JESUS for bringing me back some sanity and space.

Just when things felt fucking calm and straight-forward, my husband and I decided to add chaos to the family and see if we could get ourselves pregnant. BINGO! It worked and last fall we had ourselves another son. Suddenly, though I knew to expect it, our world was no longer lazy. Our older children, independent enough to fix themselves a bowl of cereal and get dressed in the morning, were a huge contrast to how our lives were going to be for the next several years.

Now I'm back in baby-mode. My body stretched to accommodate our son and is now revolting against my previous wardrobe. My breasts leak, my clothes smell like spit-up, and I'm living in a wasteland of laundry that needs to be acknowledged.

This week, as we're wrapping up Spring Break, I've been reflecting on the time I spend with my children. My daughter, six years young, is at an emotional, challenging place; she seems to be figuring out how to be, and this feels exhausting to support. I thought the challenges of what to do with a newborn would be my biggest issue with having our third, but it's really been figuring out how to mother my oldest. Everything seemed to happen at the same time- her need for increasing independence  smashed right into the issues that happen when a baby enters the picture, i.e., jealousy, feelings of being left out, not having enough time with Mom, etc.

My son, almost five, is exploring his place in our family and already seems to model some "middle child" characteristics (I don't know if these are characteristics we'd be seeing anyway, but it seems I should just get used to blaming everything on him being middle child, so there); he comforts me when my daughter is mouthy and mean. And he desperately wants to show me what he's doing and wants to please me with his drawings and writing samples. He's finding a lot of pride in being a big brother, which is fucking awesome since I anticipate he'll be pissed by a screaming, tantrum-throwing toddler. Good luck, son(s).

Tomorrow is our last day of the break; I only hope that we can appreciate the time we spend together, because it all goes just too fucking fast anyway.