Monday, April 14, 2008

Don't know what you got until it's almost gone. And not in that cheesy 80s hair band kind of way.

Last week, on the first really beautiful and warm spring day we've had this year, Chicky and I had one of those rare mornings where I did very little yelling and lecturing and she did very little acting out.

(Read: No tantrums! When does that ever happen?)

(Uh, never.)

It seems spring fever had affected us both very positively. So to capitalize on it all, we went out to the park and stayed there, basking in the sun and catching a breeze on the swings, for most of the morning. After that, we drove over to the next town to buy some summer shoes for her and then next door to Panera for a soup and sandwich for me.

I had contemplated sitting there with the rest of the lunchtime crowd but the thought of paying five or six bucks for a peanut butter sandwich and a box of milk was not enticing, so we took everything to go. On the way home, however, I started to regret my decision. Chicky, who to this point was being uncharacteristically cooperative and downright charming, probably would have enjoyed sitting there at a table surrounded by people in business wear while she nibbled her PB&J or grilled cheese sandwich. No doubt the table of women dressed in nurses scrubs would have given her a few smiles and Chicky would have beamed right back. It would have been a nice end to an enjoyable morning with my first born.

That's when it hit me. My first born, my baby, my partner in crime, would very soon have to share her special time with me with a sibling. There soon will be very few opportunities when she and I will have a lunch date on the fly. No more just the two of us, our girl duo is going to become a trio. And I got all weepy thinking about it.

(You'd think this would have hit me all a lot sooner but then you'd be giving me way too much credit.)

In the interest of full disclosure, I've been turning on the waterworks pretty hard for the past week or two. Everything, every little freaking thing, makes me reach for the tissues. Because I am Weepy McWeeperson. Watch out or I might cry on your shoes.

Anyway.

So there we were, driving down the picturesque back roads of our town, sunroof open and radio playing music we both could agree on. Passing people out walking their dogs, everyone in a good mood. And I had tears in my eyes.

"Mommy, are you crying?"

"No, hon. A bug flew in my eye."

"Oh. Do you have a boo boo in your eye now? Do you need to go to the doctor?" She's very concerned about the health and well being of my eyes these days.

"No. I'll just use this tissue to get it out," I sniffed.

Of course, she wanted to see the bug I allegedly fished out of my eye, but I convinced her it had flown away. Because that's what good moms do - they lie to their kids to cover their own asses.

For most of this pregnancy I've been in hurry-up-and-get-this-damn-baby-out-of-me mode but now I'd like to slow the time down a bit. I'd like a few more months to show Chicky a good time, without the interference of a needy, crying infant or a pesky younger sibling. But my way back time machine is still out in the garage, half finished. I just need to find where I put that spare flux capacitor.

I know she won't remember a time before her little sister, but I will. And that's another thing good moms do - wish for impossible things for their children for their own selfish reasons.

It's true. Look it up.

25 comments:

mel from freak parade said...

Oh, I remember that time. My son was five and a half when my daughter was born. I remember the weepiness. It is bittersweet. It will be okay. You will still have those times with just Chicky in the future, and they will be all the more special because they are a bit harder to come by. I know you already know that. That doesn't make it any easier to think about, does it? :)

Anne said...

She might be gradually slipping away from the terrible 2 soon. Hard to imagine now but it will happen.

I was in a hurry to get it on too but it's true what they all say. Now I drool when I see toddlers running around. Not like mine's in collage or anything...they're only 8 and 10.

Bon said...

the image of the two of you on a spring day, you big with belly and teary of eye, trying to hold a moment still with your firstborn...aw, see, now I'M crying.

lovely post.

motherbumper said...

Dang, Weepy McWeeperson - it's contagious. And I'd be exactly the same at the realization of it all - seriously.

There is nothing wrong with "wish for impossible things for their children for their own selfish reasons". Word.

Pgoodness said...

It's a tough and smack-you-in-the-face kind of realization; I remember it well.

wishing for impossible things for their children for their own selfish reasons? FABULOUSLY said.

Ladybug's Picnic said...

Wept in Babies R Us this weekend while Charlotte helped me put the size 1 diapers in the carriage. "For baby?" she said, beaming.

My cold dead heart melted (a little) and I wept. In public. Like a LUNATIC.

Heather said...

I remember when that realization hit me too. I bawled like a baby...or more like a pregnant lady I suppose.

No waterworks over this one so far, because I know that the kids will just be getting one more person to love them.

kittenpie said...

I otally lied to my child to cover my own ass this weekend. Go, me!

And I am finding the same - our mood is totally changing for the better, adn we've been walking to daycare, going to the park, and actually enjoying each other's company rather than fighting, which is so nice. About freaking time, eh?

Fairly Odd Mother said...

I will never forget when I was in the hospital after having my 2nd child. Lying in that bed and seeing my firstborn, my original baby!, walk into the room tore my heart into pieces. All of a sudden, she looked so much older! I felt almost guilty about having another baby. But, as I type this, my 7 and 5 year old girls are playing with their dolls in their shared bedroom, whispering and giggling. So far, so good.

But, enjoy this time as much as you can. Otherwise it just slips away.

Velma said...

I felt this way, too. But I rediscovered that special "just us" time when her brother's behavior became unmanageable. I staggered their daycare so I could set aside a day just for her each week (and one for him as well) and it was one of the best things I've done for her - gave her that Mommy/Pepper time back, a day to have me to herself each week.

Julie Pippert said...

Enjoy this time (in more ways than one). It'll be a trio for a while because babies NEED, but after a bit, you'll get some duo time back and it will be so special. We try to do a bit of it each week.

I know how you feel. I felt it too, and there's an adjustment...for us it happened at about 9-12 months when Persistence was walking and able to get Patience's things. Prior to that it was just baby love.

There's rivalry now but also Oh-the-L.O.V.E!

The last three weeks I was back to "OMG your tenancy is at an END my friend."

Blog Antagonist said...

I think we are on the same wavelength today. I was just thinking about this today, how I felt back then.

It's okay. Let yourself feel all those things. It's normal. Well, relatively speaking, that is. I think we're all a little bit mental when we're pregnant.

Jozet at Halushki said...

(((hugs)))

It will all be good.

I don't know how it all works out, but it does.

It's a mystery.

Diana said...

I remember that feeling. I also worried about how in the world I'd love them both equally. The Princess was 3 1/2 when The Pea was born. They are so close now, even when they're fighting, I can't imagine having it any other way.

Lawyer Mama said...

Ahhhhh, I so remember that. I felt so damn guilty for taking time away from my Hollis.

But next thing you know, you'll be watching Chicky tenderly kiss the little chicklet. And then you'll be crying again.

xoxo

flutter said...

LMAO!! A bug flew in my eye.

Oh, chicky

mo-wo said...

I know you feel you will lose your partner. But there are a few months yet, I think. I found my girl was the most important partner I had in coming to care for a family of four.

Please try to find yourself a copy of Little Rabbits New Baby by Harry Horse.

And, I will remind you that you gave me 1st comment when I was sort of here 2 years ago. So romantic

Oh, The Joys said...

You are so pregnant, my friend.

(((you)))

Mrs. Chicken said...

I feel exactly the same way about The Poo. I want to inhale her right now. This morning I got in her bed and just hugged her for a half-hour. I know that will disappear, and I am mourning it before it is gone.

hugs to you.

Hannah said...

My number 2 arrived last week. The morning my water broke, I was helping number 1 get dressed and it hit me like a freight train that it would be never be "us two" again - not like it has been. I burst into tears.

It hasn't even been a week and I'm already so enchanted with my two boys that I'd almost forgotten that feeling of loss while I stood there, having contractions and knowing I was going from one to two. This post really hit me. Thank you for sharing.

beth said...

I remember this feeling very well.

My girls are 2 and 4 which means I now have two lunch buddies.

justmylife said...

Glad you had a good day. I remember that time. I had a lot of those times, esp with my last one. The boys were old enough to do for themselves by the time she came along. I cried because they didn't need me, I cried because I wouldn't have free time again for years, I cried because the mail was late. I cried for everything. Just remember, it means the new baby is just around the corner and she will get to be a big sister.

Redneck Mommy said...

I can't even remember a time when I only had one child. It was so fleeting.

Sigh.

But I hear you. I find myself trying to make the most of the time I have with just Fric and Frac before the new one comes home and demands attention.

Hugs my preggo friend.

beth - total mom haircut said...

I was the same way as the birth of Robby was approaching. I was getting so worked up over the end of mine and Sam's "special time." I remember once my husband said something to me about whether or not I might want to write a letter to Sam to read in the future to tell him about what we used to do together when it was just the two of us. You can probably imagine the response he got.

amanda said...

"wish for impossible things for their children for their own selfish reasons."

so very, very true.

a beautiful post :)