Time wishing

Unfortunately, if you're not currently a parent of multiple children, you will not fully relate to this particular entry. I know, I thought I too understood what it was like to have children before I did. Sort of like I thought I understood what it was like to be a stay-at-home mom when I was a working mom, or to be married when I was "living" with my Sohl-mate before we were married. (Yes, I said it. I admit it, I confessed it, and I'm over it) I quickly found out that I most definitely did not understand.

When I was pregnant with my son, many parents would say, "Enjoy these days. They go too quickly." "It'll be over before you're ready, so treasure every moment." Blah, blah, blah, I thought. I won't miss being sixty pounds overweight. I'm ready for that baby to get here already. Fast forward to the delivery, when suddenly I was wishing for that dreamy life where contractions and epidurals and IVs were only things to consider in the distant future.

A bit of foreshadowing, maybe? Of course, that wasn't enough for me to get the picture.

With my Sohl son, I wanted him to achieve, and be quick about it. Hoping to "help him along," I read him books every night, wiped his gums with cloths, sang songs, did a constant running commentary on our days events, while still allowing his input once he decided to grace us with it. Color identification, shapes, sounds, objects, etc. All the advice those books told me to use to raise a "smart" child.

When he would look sleepy, I'd hurry to the changing table, respectfully warning him before I touched him, placed his diaper on him, and lie him in his crib, always on his back of course. It was breaking written rules to allow him to fall asleep in my arms, and I'd surely have a clingy, needy baby if I did so.

Once he started to be more interactive, I wanted him to learn to sit. Then he sat, and I wanted him to know how to fall without hurting himself. This led to my desires for early crawling, then early pulling up, walking, speaking in phrases, sentences, color identification, counting, letter recognition, etc. I wanted him to be there early, to hurry. My smart son could surely do all these things before the timelines indicated he should. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

All around me were comments about how smart he was, how advanced he was, how well-mannered he was. My inner-self danced. Smugly I thought, "Of course he is! I did everything the books said to, and so why wouldn't he be? I'm such a great parent."

Parents of multiple children would say, "Oh, you say that you want to get there. But just wait. Just wait. Talking and walking and everything is great, but you'll be wishing for those baby things to come back." Again, I thought, "RIGHT. Why would I want those bottles back? Who wants a person completely dependent, constantly attached to them?"

And then he turned two. Suddenly, I realized that I'd just spent my son's entire life wishing for him to -----. "Oh, I can't wait until he __________. That'll be great." I remembered those parents, their advice. Enjoy. Relax. Treasure. With a sad heart came the realization that I wanted those bottles back. I wanted that completely dependent person attached to me.

Fast forward to my little Sohl gal. (In an attempt at full disclosure, I did wish the last two or three months and the delivery along, but again, if you're an experienced parent, you can relate) Whether it's because I'm older, or just because I have already spent time wishing for later stages, I'm at ease watching her develop, letting her take her time. And more correctly, when it comes to her, I dreadfully want the time to sloooow down. I find myself wanting to have longer, just to hold and cuddle. Longer, just to listen to that giggle. Longer, just to watch her play. Longer, just to watch her sleep. Longer just to smell that baby smell.

So while it completely startled and some what freaked me out, I understood this man's heart today when he approached my Sohl gal and me, and sadly asked to smell her head. "My three are all teens, and don't want me near them," he said. "I miss that smell. I miss that time." And I knowingly smiled. Because now, I really understood.

I used to be somewhat put off by people who'd ask to see a baby while it slept, while it was calm and quiet. Strangers who'd ask to touch the baby would make me indignant. Now I get it. In a way, they live vicariously through me. So now it' up to me to treasure, to relax, to enjoy. It really does go way, way too fast.

While on some level I'm sad, I'm enjoying the giggles more this time. I'm trying to treasure the drooling, and the 3am feedings. Trying to relax during the teething cries. Because all too soon, they'll be distant memories that I will want back more than anything. Then I'll be the one living vicariously through someone else's time wishing.