Life is moving quickly these days. I’m more than halfway through my pregnancy, we’re in escrow on our house (and on the hunt for a new one), Oliver knows that “P” is for “poo poo!” and Jonah has questions about Brexit . I truly can’t keep up.
The other day, as I watched Oliver literally throw himself on the floor because I wouldn’t hand over my phone so he could look at photos and probably surf for porn, (Kids are very advanced these days), I realized I haven’t been documenting his milestones (including the ones that make me want to throw myself on the floor too). With Jonah, I had albums of gorgeously printed photos in a scrapbook full of darling paper and stickers that I carefully curated from Michael’s for each month of his life. Literally, I did not miss a beat. I looked around my house and then realized, I don’t even have a printed photo of Oliver. And then my panic really set in… Baby 3!!! I have taken maaaaybe 3 photos of myself/belly documenting whatever week it is, but only because I was mostly trying to get a sense of how my outfit looked. I don’t think I even know where the ultrasound pictures from this pregnancy are!!! Did I mention, I kept a journal when I was pregnant with Jonah. Yeah, I had it bound… Like a book. With descriptions of what I ate, where I went, and what songs made me cry at that the mere thought of becoming a mom and meeting my brilliantly gorgeous newborn.
Do you think my 3rd baby’s first words will be “AVOCADO TOAST?” Because that’s the only thing that makes me cry (tears of joy) these days.
All jokes aside, I’ve never felt so happy and content in my life. What we went through with Oliver last year has seriously changed me and helped put so much in perspective. Life may be super stressful right now, and I may only shower 4 times a week, but this is the GOOD stress. This is the stuff that Peter and I will remember when we are old and grey and sitting on our golf-course front vacation home (in Maui), waiting for the grandkids to come visit… (I think they put happy pills in my Avocado Toast at Le Pain this morning).
Anyway, I want to REMEMBER this time. I want to REMEMBER what is happening. And while I’m not able to blog as much as I want, I do have a moment now, to jot down a few moments of time that I want to hold on to. That I can’t print in a photo. That I can’t top with a cute sticker. They were just moments. But they mean so much to me because they’re literally splices of WHAT IS NOW.
So here goes….
It is a school night. Jonah asks me to sign his reading log. Peter is going through mail.
Jonah: Oh, hey. I learned a new bad word today.
Me: Okay…. What is it?
J: The “C” word.
Peter and I gulp.
Me: What C word?
J: Wait, there’s more than one?
Peter: Just tell us what this one is, bud.
J: I don’t want to get in trouble. Why don’t I spell it?
Me: Okay, great.
J: Okay… C… O… N… T…
Peter and I pinch each other.
Me: (under my breath to Peter) He’s spelling it wro-
Peter nudges me quiet.
P: Yes, Okay. That’s a very bad word.
J: What does it mean?
Me: I, um, you know… this is the one word I think we will hold off on explaining. Just know you may NOT use it.
J: Oh! Is it racist???
P: No. It’s just bad.
J: Fine. Can you tell me the other C word?
Me: Cookie! Who wants a cookie?
Thin mints are always unforgettable.
A recent Sunday night in the kitchen…
Oliver throws his broccoli on to the floor and starts crying. Jonah tells me he refuses to take a shower. And Apple has just pooped on the rug.
As I attempt to clean up the broccoli while calming Oliver down, and using my famous teeth gritted you’re dead face to get Jonah in the shower, I turn to Peter who has a bag of dog poop in his hand.
Me: Here’s what going to happen. So listen to me and listen to me carefully.
Me: While you put Oliver down, I’ll get Jonah to bed, clean up and Postmates us some mother fucking Pink Berry. Then we’re going to get in bed and watch 60 Minutes and pass the fuck out. Got it?
Peter: (Completely delighted). Oooh, I like the way you talk, baby.
We kiss quickly and head to our mission(s).
We make it through our entire yogurts (I eat most of his too), 1 ½ segments of 60 minutes, and call it a night… perfectly happy and in sync.
I will remember that night. Because, simply, this is us.
Another moment… Perhaps my favorite…
It’s been a long day (are you seeing a pattern?). After telling Jonah 465 times to brush his teeth and get into bed, he begs one last time:
J: Can I please sleep with you tonight? In your bed?
Me: It’s a school night!
J: So. Peter is out of town and I want to sleep with you.
Me: Baby, not tonight. I want you to get a good night sleep.
J: I will sleep great.
Me: Let me rephrase: I want to get a good night sleep. Plus, the baby crying on the monitor will wake you up.
J: Aw, but—
Me: Come on, lights out. Turn over and I will rub your back.
J: I never get to sleep with you.
Me: Well, the good news is you’re only 9. I have like 9 more years of you here before you go to college that you can sleep with me.
J: Really, mom? Seriously? Do you think I’m going to want to sleep with you when I’m 15?!
Speechless… and rubbing his back for a lot longer than I had anticipated.
Talk about savoring memories…