Change

Not meaning to find any inspiration in a meaningless internet search last night (insomnia is the worst), I came across this.  And it's perfect (despite a small typo, but I've been prone to those lately, as well.)  Suddenly, I do feel better.  While I like to think of myself as very accepting of change, in that I actually love it, I don't think I can help feeling sometimes as if I have lost control.  And I hate that.  I do.  However, maybe it's normal.  Maybe, as the dust settles around me, so too do my feelings of inadequacy, of listlessness, and of uselessness.  I'll pull it together yet.  

Patrick, my little shadow these days, insisted on helping me with the blog this morning (really, he's sitting right next to me with his thumb in his mouth, watching me type).  Since we had to run an image search to find that featured above, it also produced one that he insists be included in this post.  He found his own inspiration this morning...in the form of Optimus Prime.  I love this kid.

 

With the arrival of our newest little one in the next few weeks, I have begun to get a little sentimental about the births of the other two.  While some of the memories have faded, fogged over, and probably disappeared completely, I do remember most of those last few weeks with them.  I remember the surprise of their deliveries, both in timing and in finding out who they were.  I remember the wonderment and the magic, and I am excited to do it again.  (I'm also excited about enjoying an occassional drink.  Let's be fair.) 

As Patrick gets older, he calms.  He has become very sweet and very affectionate.  He's constantly making us laugh.  He's funny and clever and imaginative.  He's almost impossibly bright, and with that has brought about its own challenges (trust me), but we are constantly figuring them out, and, at the same time, we've become good at being his parents.   

Then came Leo.  Our big boy.  And while he is not nearly as verbal as his brother, he is physical in ways Patrick never dreamed.  He's a jumper, a climber, and get-into-everything-er, and as much as we have to prepare ourselves to start each day on our toes with him, he has an infectious laugh and a beautiful smile...and it makes any exhaustion immediately fade.  He makes us want to play along with him.  We've become good at being his parents, too. 

As I've tucked them each into bed at night, I find myself thinking (or saying), "I would take ten more just like you."  But I know that won't happen.  This new one will be completely different (but how??!!), and we'll become good at being someone else's parents all over again...God willing.  I'm looking forward to getting to know who (s)he is, and while I think I may know what (s)he is, I feel more strongly as if we have a little thing going already.  I feel like I know this person.  It's difficult to describe, but I feel like we've shared so much up until this point that we're going to be great together.  Our little icing on the cake.  The culmination of all things that we have worked so hard for.  Our reward.  Our family. 

And then starts the real project; the building.  I start work.  Adam eases up a little in his.  We get more serious about selling the house (as I write this, we are having both bathrooms redone!).  We make our long-term plans. We transition from a young family in process to something a little more established.  What will come is still completely unknown.  Will we have more kids?  Where will we move?  Will there be any more big changes?  Your guess is as good as mine, but things are in motion.  Always in motion, and always in a state of (you guessed it): change.