Saturday, July 25, 2015

Worry

You seem so excited about your new baby sister.  You kiss my tummy and say “hello” to her.  You tell me how you’re going to teach her how to walk, and feed her bottles, and change her diapers.  You want to teach her how to laugh.

You also just turned three.  You sometimes throw things when you don’t get your way. You confuse me sometimes.  Like when you ask for an apple and I go to get it and you yell” NO APPLE!” but when I move to put it away you start crying and want the apple back. You love to help set the table and empty the dishwasher but usually put up a fight when it’s time to clean up the toys.

You amazingly take new things in stride.  When we took the side off your crib, you happily got in bed at night and didn’t constantly climb out. You switched into the bigger bedroom for you and your future sister, and slept through the night the first night and every night since. The tooth fairy “took away” the binkies the same week you independently decided to give up naps. At night you were overtired and binkie-less and yet you slept through the night. A few days later your “big-girl” twin sized bed arrived and you had no trouble sleeping in it, even with your “old bed” - soon to be your little sister’s crib - across the room.

I remember the first three months you were alive and how tired your Dad and I were from feeding you every two hours.  We got through it and every day was a little better. I worry about those first three months with a newborn and an active, inquisitive three year old. I don’t want you to feel lost in the shuffle and I want to be able to focus on you both equally but I worry that you’ll be sad or think I’m ignoring you. I don’t want you to worry.  About anything.  Ever.

At 35 weeks pregnant I am tired now but you seem to understand when Mom needs a break.  Like yesterday when it took us a half an hour to go one block because I had to keep stopping to sit down from stabbing cervical pains.  You patiently sat beside me on building stoops and stairs while I caught my breath.  Each time we stopped you would quietly sing me the Doc Mc Stuffins song: “I know you’re scared. Tell me what’s wrong. I know there’s something we can do.”  You waited patiently for me to collect myself and keep walking.

Maybe I should just trust in the fact that you’re taking everything in stride.  A three year old is showing me how not to worry. Ok...I’ll stop worrying. Really. OK...I’m stopping worrying….

Solo-Duplo building.

Silly face time while Mom lies down on the bed for a minute.

1 comment:

NausetYaYa said...

I love your stories. Don't worry - be happy! Not a mad motto.