Despite a graduation, a birthday, potty training, real words, and some growing pains, I just now realized that David is ten months older than he was when Mary born. This is a startling, and heart wrenching, realization.
Look at the happy little munchkin he was.
Now he is long and lean. (And still happy, but that happiness isn't as simple as it used to be.)
What happened to that little munchkin, with the dimpled elbows and the dough-boy giggle? What happened to my baby? My Baby David?I think I thought that when Mary was born I could press a pause button on David's childhood, give Mary my all, and then get back to David, exactly as he was, when I had a chance. But it doesn't work that way, does it?
I am a terrible multitasker. I don't like to paint my toenails while I watch T.V. I don't like to talk on the phone while I'm sweeping the floor. I always turn off the radio in the car if I'm having a conversation with someone. I tune out the entire world when I read the newspaper each morning. I prefer to do one thing at a time.
Not surprisingly, this makes me a terrible stay-at-home mom. In any given moment, I am either totally involved with my children, or completely ignoring them (and it's probably the latter much more than it should be). I hate cleaning with little people clinging on me, so I make Greg take the kids to the park while I clean. (For the record, Greg always offers to clean while I take the kids to the park instead, but I like the break.) I look forward to cooking dinner each day (even though I don't really like to cook) so I can kick everyone out of the kitchen. I will only do crafts with David if Mary is asleep. I waste most of David's nap playing with Mary. I am known to lock David out of my bedroom when I'm getting dressed in the morning. I cannot have a conversation with Greg if there are little kids climbing on me. And so on.
As a mother, my two biggest tasks are "David" and "Mary." And, as the anti-multitasker that I am, I prefer to raise them one at a time. This presents some obvious problems, the only solution for which would have to involve some major advancements in cryonics and/or the ability to manipulate the space-time continuum. So while I have been busy doting on Mary (struggling to make up for her second-child status--the lack of Mary pictures on the wall, her very thin baby book, the unfinished photo albums, and dearth of adventure), David has continued growing and changing--from a chubby, carefree toddler to a lean, self-aware (but ever enthusiastic) pre-schooler. And I think I missed it.
How did this happen? When did he stop signing and start talking? When did he start sleeping through the night and preferring his own bed to mine? When did he start making his own peanut butter sandwiches and putting on his shoes all by himself? When did I begin allowing him to walk beside the shopping cart instead of riding in it? When did he become a pbskids.org Jedi? When did he learn to recognize the letters of the alphabet, pedal a bike, and use a hole-punch? When did he grow so tall that I can no longer see over the top of his head to read when he sits on my lap with a book? When did our relationship become more complicated?
I feel like I am not as present in his life as I used to be. It would be easy to blame that on Mary. But I think it has more to do with David's increasing maturity. He is discovering his independence and does not hesitate to assert it. I am slow to adjust. He is growing so fast that I can't keep up with the changes. Emotionally, I think I am ten months behind. Six, if I give myself a little credit. Such incongruity is bound to cause frustration, on both sides. Like yesterday--I think we both spent most of the day frustrated. I suspect that even if there were no Mary, no laundry, no newspaper, no phone calls--or even if I were the world's greatest multitasker--we still would have spent the day frustrated.
But I did notice the adorable way he hopped down the hall to the childcare room at the Y. And I did like how excited he was about his new library books. His idea this afternoon to make "a pile of people" with Mommy on the bottom, David in the middle, and Mary on top was a lot of fun. His after dinner announcement that he was going outside to play "with no shirt and no shoes" brought a smile to my face. And I can't ignore how his face lit up when he first saw me after coming home from an outing with Daddy. So it wasn't all frustration.
Last night at 3 am he woke up scared and needed to hold my hand. I lay down next to him, he cuddled up close, and any lingering memories of the day's frustrations melted away. There in the dark, I could have sworn he wasn't as tall, that he had dimples for elbows; his sweet face looked a little chubby, a bit baby-ish--just as he looked ten months ago.
I might not be the star of the show anymore, but he still needs me.
