Didn’t Tom Hanks say this in A League of Their Own? I should know, I only watched that movie about 1,276 times growing up. I have never once done something easy and reflected later that it was great. The “great” moments in my life have all been hard-won (or lost) attempts to do something I was never confident I could do.
Like that time I was a crazy college student studying in Africa and we decided to climb Mt. Kenya during our fall break. Ill prepared, with little cold weather gear I shivered the sub-freezing night before our summit in a hut at something like 14,000 feet. Then got up at 2am to trek miles and miles up snowy, rocky cliffs to watch the sunrise. I’m surprised I didn’t fall off the edge to my death.
Y’all. There is something so incredibly wonderful about attempting something hard. It draws me in. Beckons me to try. For if I fail, I will know just how hard I can really push myself.
But when it comes to adding another baby, another life to our family, failure is not an option. I can fail at all kinds of small things. Forget to change a dirty diaper in time. Leave home without a change of clothes. You know. But in the grand scheme of things, I have to love this little bundle (and the older two bundles) above all else. Hold them close when they’re being awful. I will my patience to grow more every day because lawdy I need oodles of it.
So this is my motto in these early baby days with Larkin. This kid had so many days of non-stop crying in her first six weeks I thought I would go insane. Pippa was the same way, but she was my first (and hey, she turned out ok right? Only a little crazy…). I could just deal with it. Now I have to lay this baby down to deal with the older two fighting, make 12 meals a day (no joke, my kids eat a LOT), do laundry. Anyone else have a colicky baby that was not their first? Now she is 13 weeks and our fussy days are fewer… but out of the blue we’ll have one. And it stinks.
Yet I know that this crying will come to an end and that the older kiddos will stop fighting. Deep down I know that when I look back on these days, I wouldn’t wish away the hard times. Because the hard is what makes it great.
It terrifies me because it’s everything I’ve worked hard not to do with my youngsters, yet I feel the pull of society calling me to enroll my oldest (4.5 years) in summer camp. Or preschool. Or a sport. She’s just 4.5!” says my inner voice. Let her be a child! She will have 13 years to be in school more hours than she plays, to be inside more than she is outside, and to endure waaaaaay more academic pressure than children should. Yet I still feel the lure of a society that values busy-ness and find myself wondering if I’m making the right choices.
You ask how is my heart? Right now it is often exhausted from being in full-time parent mode. But on this sunny morning it is joyous, because my colicky newborn is actually sleeping and my older kiddos are outside inventing games in mud puddles and picking blueberries. And that is exactly where they should be.
Yeah, not much changed in that department.
