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siblings

Different Kids, Different Mom

by Marilyn on July 11, 2008

Seriously, you could probably write a book about how much stuff they never tell you before having kids.  Or about how they tried to tell all this stuff before you had kids, but you never listened.  Or you listened but you didn’t believe them because you were going to be different!  You’re SPECIAL, damnit.  Ahem.  Something like that.

Anyhow, my point here is that I was never told just how different a mom that I would be to each of my children.  Oh sure, I heard all the talk about how “each child is different”.  And I beleived it because I grew up in a family of five children.  But I guess I never stopped to realize that you are a different mom to each child.  Or is that just me?  Becuase I SWEAR, I never expected to feel so differently each and every time.

There are basics in place, of course.  I’m a pretty laid back mom (NO WAY, you’re KIDDING… ) and generally don’t get too worked up over things.  My kids, more often than not, might have a smear or two on their faces.  My house tends to look a little “rough around the edges” by the end of the day.  I encourage all of them to be able to play on their own without me, though at Liam’s age, I do join in from time to time.  I also don’t put up with much nonsense and demand respectful behavior and adherence to the rules and regulations (be they what they are) around the house.

But as for how I relate to each child?  It has literally amazed me at how differently I interact with each one.  With Harry, he was my first.  We had a very close relationship for the first six years of his life.  As a baby and toddler, though, I think I spent more time worrying about things and focusing on the little things that just aren’t really worth worrying about.  I don’t think I enjoyed the small moments with him as much as I could have.  I was too busy thinking about what I should be doing and what milestones he should be achieving.  I’m pretty sure all first time moms do this.

With Liam, he was our Golden Child.  The miracle baby at the end of a long line of infertility and loss.  I was older than when I’d had Harry.  And with Liam, I have been more patient, and perhaps more indulgent.  Those early days and months were almost literally spent staring into his eyes and just basking in the glow.  The milestones came and went and I noticed but didn’t really care, you know what I mean?  Liam is my monkey boy and as he grows and more of his personality shows, I’m just charmed by him.  To him, I’m a soft lap to cuddle in.  And can I help it if I find it adorable that he calls everyone “mama”?  Even Harry is “mama”.  Kile will try to prompt him to call him “papa” and Liam will actually argue, “No… mama!”

And it’s different with Evie too.  I honestly never thought I’d get to have a little girl.  I figured I would have all boys and that would be that.  So she’s a surprise to me, every day.  And with her, I have yet another special kind of relationship.  We’ll often escape the cacophony of the boys playing to go change a diaper and while I’m cleaning her up, we’ll smile at each other in a way that says, “I’m on your side, sister.”  She doesn’t like loud noises or being handled roughly.  She loves to be sung to and told she’s a multitude of wonderful things (such as being smart, being a big girl, being pretty, etc and so forth).  She loves to study pictures and faces and does so with a sober, serious look on her face.  She is very tactile and tends to “paw” a lot with her hands, generally at my chest or my hands or a blanket (whatever is handy).  I take a delicate hand with her that I never had to have with her brothers.  She is vastly more talkative at this age and I find myself responding to her coos with delight.  It remains to be seen if she’ll be interested in the boy’s toys and playing in the dirt, but for now she’s my girly girl.  And I will admit to treating her as such.

Leave it to these tiny terrors to put our world on it’s ear, huh?  Being a mom at home (or at work, for that matter) isn’t easy and it’s a lot of work to deal with this rigamarole day in and day out.  But stopping to notice the differences and embrace them?  Well that’s just awesome.

And when Harry gets home?  I’m totally going to cheer him on while he plays a rousing round or two of Mario Kart.  Because he is plain awesome at Mario Kart.

Spacing

by Marilyn on April 3, 2007

Anyone who has read this blog for a couple years knows that before Liam was born, we were caught in the merciless grips of infertility and loss. We went through many years of heartbreak and frustration. And impatience. I felt like I was constantly trying to beat the clock. And it wasn’t just the biological clock I was trying to beat. If I get pregnant right now, the kids will only be four years apart. For the longest time, I had very set expectations on the spacing of our children. At first, just after Harry was born, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to have another. His traumatic birth experience was still very fresh in my mind. A few months later, I thought that maybe when Harry was four we would have another. I thought that would be perfect because Harry would be going into school (giving me more time during the day to sleep while pregnant or take care of a newborn) and he would be potty trained (insert *snort* of laughter here) and I would still be under 30 (back when we thought we wanted to be done having kids by 30). By the time Harry was a year old, we were already trying. I wanted another baby and I wanted our children to be closer in age.

I never had a sibling very close in age to me. My sister is eight years older than I am, and she and I are the closest in age of all of my siblings. I wanted Harry to be able to enjoy having another child around to play with and fight with and love. And pretty soon, Harry wanted that too. All of my plans were thrown out the window. I never expected it would be so hard to get pregnant again. And I was so stubborn about taking the clomid. If I had only taken it sooner…

Part of the pain when Jackson died, that morning in the hospital when we learned he was gone, was knowing that we had no sibling for Harry. We had waited for so long, gone through so much and now when the timing seemed perfect, and now our hopes and dreams were dashed. I felt so bad for Harry. I felt we were letting him down. And my plans were thwarted which never sits well with me.

I’m a planner by nature. I like to know what’s going to happen and when and how. It drives Kile nuts. I’m sure he thinks I’m just nagging most of the time but I just genuinely want to know what happening. I have never dealt well with the unknown. Leaving things until the last minute fills me with a cold sense of dread. And I thought I’d be able to plan my children just like I plan everything else. And boy, did I have a lesson to learn.

I am in control of NOTHING. Least of all how many children I have and when. It was hard to let go of that hope and of that control. Or rather, the illusion of that control. But I had to realize that I really was at the mercy of God, of fate and of circumstance. As each year slipped by, I felt both sadder for my lost plans and more resigned to the reality of the situation. Everything happens for a reason. That’s another big one for me. I have to believe there’s a purpose. I just had to let go and let that purpose take over.

Now, I cannot imagine it any other way. The spacing between my sons seems perfect. Harry is old enough to help out and he really enjoys being the big brother. Liam thinks Harry walks on air and no one is funnier than he is. Harry is fairly independent and even enjoys doing some things for himself. And that gives me more time to take care of Liam. And I’m older too. Yes, that’s actually a good thing. I’m more relaxed and easy-going this time. I have more of an appreciation for the little things and the little moments that make up our days together.

And without that overbearing clock ticking away just over my shoulder, I find I have time to sit back and just enjoy my family. I can’t help but wonder what enjoyment that clock stole from me all those years. I hope, whatever happens, that from now on that clock just leaves me the heck alone. Whatever happens is what happens and that is the way it is meant to be.