As I’m working in my new studio, Bean is in his new room playing with his new trains. He’s been playing for the past 45 minutes. From the hall I hear is soft little voice floating towards me, as he talks to himself, and sings songs about trains to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He’s gotten so big and independent suddenly, with this shift to sleeping in his big-boy bed all through the night.
Now he runs down the hall to tell me that the “engines are all in the roundhouse and the cars are all outside.” Then he adds, with a sneaky little grin, “one of the engines can fly!”
Seeing my paints set up on my workbench, he says, “I want to paint!” I remind him that I’ve set up an easel in his room, taping a large piece of butcher paper to the floor with painters tape to make a kid-friendly workspace. “Oh yeah,” he says, and runs off to fill up a jar of water. The next thing I hear is him singing, as he puts bold brushstrokes of purple and turquoise onto the paper.
This new maturity and independence makes me think that yes, possibly, I will be able to parent two. I’m still terrified of it, even as I feel the first fin-fluttering kicks of the baby in my womb and grin. It seems so three-ring-circus. So non-stop. So topsy-turvy to have two. But then, watching Bean, I know he will be a great big brother–and he’s so thrilled to be having a sibling soon. He draws pictures of our family “and the baby.”
Things will be different this time, for sure. We’re not newbies. We’re parents already, comfortable in our roles. When Bean was first born for the longest time I felt like I was an imposter. Especially pushing his stroller. This is not my life, I’d think. Still, I can hardly imagine those first months again. Those months where sleep is a mosaic of fragments. Where the days are blured and sharp edged. Moments of milky breath, dolphin squeaks, and gummy grins.
Will I ever feel ready before it happens? Or is it like diving, you only know you can do it, after you’ve leapt, sailed through the air, and broken the surface of the water below.
First of all, HOORAY for Bean sleeping in his big boy bed. I know you must feeling like shouting this off rooftops!
I’m sure that I never feel ready for anything regarding this whole parenting experience. No matter how much I’ve read, or questions I’ve pondered, it’s an in-the-moment thing. You will be able to do this, and soak in all that milky goodness, knowing THIS time how fleeting and precious it really is. Hard, yes, and disconcerting, but one of those tiny stages of life in the grand scale of it all.
I love how Anne Lamott says in Operating Instructions that she sometimes felt like she was the babysitter, waiting for the REAL parents to show up. Um, me too…
As more and more people I know and those that I read blogging, the more I want to experience those moments you describe. I want to be sitting there with my kid playing while I am doing art. I want to feel those fluttering kicks.
Kudos for your writing.
The way you describe the baby things almost, but not quite, made me long for those days.
I wonder if parents EVER really feel they have the hang of things? I know that every time I start feeling like I know what I’m doing, one of my kids totally pulls the rug out from under me.
It will be hard, no way around that, but you will do it and there will be so much joy in watching your son hold and kiss that baby!
and just knowing you gave him a best friend for life makes it so all worth it!
some days, i still feel like i don’t have it all together. that’s okay. that’s LIFE!!!
you are a wonderful mama and i can’t wait to see photos of your new one!
tara
“From the hall I hear is soft little voice floating towards me, as he talks to himself, and sings songs about trains to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
This touched me an actually made me cry. I wish I had a child but I have not been blessed yet. In fact I am trying to get over my two miscarriages.
Wish you all the best, you seem to be a great mum!