Blue woke up this morning singing. On Wednesday, he’s set to ‘graduate’ from nursery (I have issues with that term, but anyway…) and he wanted to rehearse some song lyrics to be sure that he’d get them right. Luckily, this seemed to come from pride rather than anxiety this morning. Three times through the “Eco Star” song at volume before he bounced out of bed.
Beangirl wasn’t quite so vibrant. It’s also her last week of school – four and a half more days until summer can really start. She’s planning bike rides and long sunny afternoons with a novel in the garden. Sounds perfect. But this morning, she also needed some singing to get her moving. It was much quieter than Blue’s performance. She just curled up with my belly to softly sing “Twinkle twinkle little star” to the baby who responded with a couple morning stretches.
And then we had breakfast. Monday launched.
It’s a week of looking forward. Beangirl will be seven on Friday. She had her party earlier in the month – trying to avoid the possibly hilarious party game of ‘count the contractions!’ – and it was lovely, sunny fun. We made felt finger puppets and DIY ziplock bag ice cream (google it – it may change your summer), and ate sticky strawberry meringues. Pass the parcel and some ridiculous songs to sing and homemade pizza and pink lemonade. Everything you need to celebrate. But it was when she opened her birthday cards that things changed for the Spouse and me. Just seeing that printed 7. It sounds… well…Biblical. 7 days or 7 years. How did that happen? Where did seven years go? I know all parents hit these moments. Moments when you can’t quite believe the growth of your kids. It’s these moments that birth the whole cherish every moment advice. But regardless of the universality of the experience, it’s a profound one when it hits you. 7. Goodness gracious.
And yes, goodness gracious indeed. It has been good – watching this dainty daughter grow from a swaddled bundle into a leggy reader. And grace comes into it, too. Because she’s a gift we couldn’t begin to earn. We’ve learned so much from this strange calling of parenthood. All the practical how-to things like diapers and feeding and coping with croup (which, as it turns out, isn’t just a Victorian calamity) and how to wake a baby and how not to. We’ve tackled hard things like patience and dealing with exhaustion and resentment. And I say tackled because I can’t say mastered. Struggled and failed and muddled through just like all parents learn to.
Pride and anxiety and trying to cherish every moment. Gratitude and prayer. Living with open hands. Holding close. Letting go.
And we’re stepping into all that again. Baby #3 is due early next month – the kids say it’s another graduation – and we’re in the thick of getting things ready for that party, too. The bassinet is cleaned and aired, and yesterday I got out a sheet to tuck in securely around the little mattress. I’ve washed and folded all the tiny clothes. I’ve made a first hat and bought the wrong size socks. The kids’ bookcase will double as a change table. The crib’s not yet built, but the space is ready for it and I think that the Spouse’s dad might like to help with that one when he arrives.
So many of our baby things are hand-me-downs from local families. It’s been amazing. When we were home in Ottawa over Easter, we picked up a few things from our ‘forever box’ which we’d stored in my parents’ basement, but we really didn’t have very much. Now I’ve got drawers full of baby things – everything from clothe diapers to toddler jackets and enough bedding to sail a galleon. We feel really blessed. This new baby will be surrounded – quite literally – with love from the community. Love and clean white clothing.
Goodness gracious indeed.
