I'm going back and forth lately between feelings that either 1) our children are wonderful and I am intensely smitten with them, to 2) thinking that they must be children from another planet, sent to fray my last nerve and turn all my hair gray. Are your lives like this? Do you have saintly, sweet and courageous little ones that you swoon over and love so much that you want to find a way to hug them right into yourself, because that's the only way to keep your heart from exploding? And then do you turn around to find them pushing, or screaming, or being so rottenly rotten that you just can't stand it? I'm hoping it's not just us, but that's what our lives seem to be lately. I'm thinking that it's the good times that help to carry us through the bad ones, but oh how I long for more of the good ones.My thoughts lately are that it's a little unfair that Jonah has the advantage of being the second born child. We're ever so much more laid back (except that Tim really isn't more laid back, so I guess it's just me), and Jonah has all the giddyness and giggliness of a secondborn, and such a carefree way about life. "What, my brother just pushed me over and took away all my toys? Ha, ha, ha, ha!" "What, my brother is climbing on top of me and I'll have bruises on my back later where his fingers have dug in? Chuckle, chuckle." And all the while I'm scolding and punishing Joshua, I'm grinning dumbly and making silly faces at Jonah, so that he won't think he's the one being scolded.
And I also think (in my neurotic overanalyzing way) that it's a little unfair that Joshua had the advantage of being the firstborn child. He had years of special one-on-one time, reading books, getting homemade baby food and not watching TV. Ever. And I think I can count on one hand the number of books I've read to poor Jonah, as well as giving him the benefit of watching Sesame Street and Curious George daily.
In my obsessive way I know that I've all but ruined both of our kids because of the things that I either have or haven't done. Except.
Except that Joshua truly loves his brother, and during the times he's not yelling, pushing or hitting, he's hugging and laughing with Jonah. "Yes, Jonah, I see that elephant," he says animatedly and repeatedly about the stuffed animal Jonah is showing him. His eyes glitter that he can make his brother laugh so heartily.
Except that Jonah loves life so fully, and so exuberantly. The scarcity of homemade babyfood hasn't seemed to quell his apetite, so chunky and pudgy is he. He's my butterball of joy whose favorite time of the whole day is bathtime.
Aren't things funnier in retrospect? Can you believe that I didn't think it was funny that Jonah was leaning over the edge of the tub as I washed Joshua's hair? That he actually leaned so far that he fell into the tub headfirst, clothes and all? I know, it's hilarious, right? As I tried to peel the clothes off his squirmy, choking self, I realized that I'd gone too far by ripping off the diaper as well. Since there was actually poop in the diaper, I probably should have gone about the whole thing a little more carefully, especially since the poop flew out of the diaper and into the tub. Thankfully Joshua was there to help, crying out passionately, "I'll get it, mama, I'll get it!!" But you know how things are when you're trying to fish them out of the tub . . . they just don't want to be caught.
I guess I need to learn to laugh more about things as they're happening, and not so much after the fact. So the drink gets spilled over the entire table and floor . . . twice . . . at church. So the diaper blows out when we're not around and the nursery workers get stuck with the job. It's just life, happening. And every moment of it is precious and fleeting, and these kids of mine are in the whirlwind of it. I'm going to jump into the whirlwind with them, and hang on for dear life, so that I don't squelch it for them . . . or me.
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