Hurry up and be late

Hurry up and be late

The sun has already set and Its dark in the bedroom, the fan blows on high and the sound of twinkle twinkle little star repeats again and again. Her body warm and small, she fits like a puzzle piece into the grove of my chest as she makes the slightest puppy dog grunts.

She is tired. But wide awake, her tummy must hurt, maybe she had a long day, she is 10 weeks old, of course it has been a long day.  I decide to dance.

I spin around and around the room on my toes, pretending to dance ballet. My long dress sweeping the floor, I feel light and joyous and she is silent. Her eyes big she is enthralled. By the motion perhaps, or the spinning ceiling fan but she is silent and I dance. She nestles deeper into my arms and I feel her warmth, soak her little body up, and smell her fine newborn hair. Her 10 pound body sitting in the cradle of my left arm, my right hand holding her neck, this is Heaven. And I spin. I dance in the mess of my bedroom, baby clothes and burpies, laundry that needs to be put away and carpet I’d like to vacuum. Yet in this moment it is all so small compared to the weight of her 10 pound body against mine.  She needs me. I am hers, she is mine.

My spin turns into a soft sway and she relaxes as I lay her in the curve of my arm, her big blue eyes stare up at me, her belly is round and full and her eyes begin to close ever so slightly. I know she is asleep by the sound of her breathing, a short and light whistle, shes out.

I missed Sophia’s bed time again, for the second night in a row I did not kiss her goodnight or read her a story. Daddy is most often second to the magic of mommy, but he’ll have to do.

 Finally in a silent house I sit, exhausted, hungry because I forgot my lunch for work this morning and can’t leave for lunch because lunch is spent nursing my 10 pound baby. A much better way to spend my break time from work than stuffing my face with food. 

I seep into the couch, a little too deep, the cushions on our couch have had it. This room too is messy to my eye, the carpet could always use a good cleaning. It’s time to edit photos.... for the umpteenth night in a row. I have to edit the memories I've captured, these beautiful important milestones, yet they are not mine. They belong to other beautiful families who have entrusted me with such an important job, indeed I must edit every night, I must finish - but take my time.

I woke up late for work.

My 10 pound baby needs to be nursed or she’ll cry the whole hour in traffic on the way to work. First things first, nurse. But she doesn't want to eat. Crap I forgot to do Sophia’s homework last night. Crap, only 20 minutes until its time to leave, I need to brush my teeth, fix my hair, pack the car, feed this baby who doesn't want to eat, and at some point wake my sleepy four year old up, and argue over her hair, clothing and choice of breakfast.  She hates to be rushed.

She is a stop and smell the roses type of girl, and I've got twenty minutes to get on the road and sit in traffic for an hour. I don’t have time for slowly getting dressed, watching cartoons, and correctly reading her homework.  I just don’t have time, almost ever.

I rush, to do most things these days. I live my day on only five hours of sleep at most, I don’t make breakfast from scratch like I’d like to, I don’t take time to pick out my clothing, I don’t have time to feel pretty, or to do anything lately but rush. I certainly do not have time to argue with my four year old about little things, no that would take much to much time. So we rush. 

Traffic wasn't horrific this morning and Scarlett didn't cry in the car,  but I did.... cry in the car. Today is an important and hard day. Today is the very same day that I found out that my best friend was killed. Today is the very same day three years ago that my life came to a painful and abrupt halt.

Today Sophia rushed to hug me and say goodbye. “mama, you better hurry, you are going to be late.” She is four, she’s been four for 10 weeks now. For 10 weeks we've been enjoying our newborn, but figuring out this crazy thing that is having two children. For 10 weeks I've been wrong. Sophia’s sweet little words made me realize, she is a rushed child. I used to dance with her in the dark coolness that is night. I once cradled her in my arms and soaked up the warmth of her 10 pound body. Swaying her back and forth to the sound of music until the sound of her breathing let me know she was, out. But not anymore, not as often as I should and only in the way you can rock a four year old. 

 I hugged her goodbye and then pushed the stroller full of baby and bags and extra diapers for daycare, down the hallway through four layers of doors to the infant classroom.  I forgot to leave Sophia’s homework with her.

Today is an important day, today I will let them give my 10 pound baby a bottle. Today I must get a good hug from my 4 year old. I have time. 10 minutes. As I walk back to Sophia’s classroom I see a mother of twins drop two blond curly haired toddlers off and then run down the hallway to the exit. She must be late too. When I reach Sophia’s classroom she jumps up from the group she is in and runs towards me. I take this moment to tell her that I love her, that she is important and I attempt to get some lovins from her. But she is rushed, she hugs me and then breaks free. She is rushed. So used to being rushed that she hasn’t the time for hugs. 

Today is an important day, because it is the day I am reminded of just how important my life really is, all the little things that I rush through. These are things that my best friend is missing with her little girl who is now 6. These things I rush, they are important. The smell of my 10 pound baby, the weight of my 4 year old in my arms, her long messy hair, those brown eyes, my messy house, long nights spent dancing in a messy room. 

Today is important. 

There is no time like right now, to go back down the hall and take the homework that you forgot to drop off, to get one more hug, you have time- because you are here. That time is a gift you receive each and every day you are able to feel the overwhelming, beautifully messy, often rushed, weight that is life.

Our children learn what we teach, and they are taught by how we live. 

They are teaching me the importance of dancing, of smelling the roses and of long hugs. 

Because lets be honest, we never know when the last time we’ll be able to hug someone is and there is no time like right now to take your time.

From One to Two

Sweet little Scarlett is 8 days new today, we have officially been home with her for a whole six days.

Six days that have proved to be a little harder than we had anticipated.

Day two Sophia and daddy went to the park and library to get out of the house. I nestled up in bed with my new baby to spend every moment I could soaking her in. Memorizing her features, her little face, her tiny toes and hands. So fresh and so new. So beautiful.

They were gone longer than I had expected. But that was okay with me, there is hardly a moment of quiet around here and I'll take every moment I am offered.

Two hours later Mike rushed into the bedroom holding Sophia. Cradled over his shoulder, he said "She's hot." I instructed him to place her next to me on the bed, still holding Scarlett I scooped her up next to me to feel her little forehead. She said " my whore-head hurts," I couldn't help but laugh. And at that moment she got up on her knees, gave me the most pitiful look and vomited all over... EVERYTHING. The bed, me, I moved my legs that held Scarlett as far from her as possible and shouted for a trash can.
She'd had a glass of chocolate milk, some cereal and a cookie - and it covered our bedroom in an aroma you can only think of.

We took a bath together, which is something we used to enjoy when she was a toddler. No time for a walk down memory lane when you're holding a crying sick four year old.

With a fever of nearly 104 she left for the emergency room with Mike..
I stayed behind with Scarlett.
My heart broke.
For her, for me.
Wrenched with guilt, not going with her was a hard mommy decision to make.

The next two weeks were hard.

Sophia had strep throat and then a viral infection followed.
Being at home alone with two young girls, one of them extremely sick and contagious and one of them an infant- I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Needless to say the first few weeks of Scarlett being home have been hard, harder than I had imagined. There weren't as many unicorns as I had planned for. But all in all, I'd say it has all been worth it.