This is what my current home looks like

I’ve called every friend that (normally) listens to my meltdowns, and I’ve determined that they  have better things to do with their time. This includes my own mother who has found one excuse or another to get off of the phone with me, my brother who has the day of and would rather chew nails then be here, and my husband who insist he’s busy at work ( he won’t even answer the phone). Really people? See who answers next time you move 8 months pregnant with a two year old!

We move in 2 weeks. I am beyond excited. Our weekends have been beyond busy, which has made packing next to impossible.

Three weeks ago Matt and I filmed a documentary. Not my project, not my work, we were in fact subjects of a documentary by a well know film maker who flew in from LaLa Land with a full crew to film us for 4 days. It was like having our own reality show; cameras, lights, &  fans. They shut down restaurants, coffee shops, and city hall- just for little ole’ us. It was overwhelming, exhausting, and overall a very cool experience. They wanted to tell the story of how Matt and I met, conceived Gracen, and overcame some tremendous odds. We are so flattered that someone, anyone actually, finds our little love story so interesting. I’ll let you know when our film makes it to theaters.  We took no actual photos of this event except for this one….

And here is my child making the same face this weekend while we attended several “Happy Birthday Parties” ( her words, not mine). See we’re twins.

Two weekends ago I hightailed it out of town to a dear friends wedding. I  was in Chicago for exactly 20 hours. It was amazing and fun and lovely and perfect. Erin took me ( between the ceremony and reception) to high tea- is that how it’s spelled?

And she didn’t even pretend to not know me when I showed up wearing the exact same dress as all of the bridesmaids. Oh yes you read that right- I wore the bridesmaids dress. Not intentionally- I swear they sell it online and in stores for big gigantic pregnant women like myself! I literally can’t fit in anything else- and trust me I tried.  By far the most embarrassing moment of my life. By far.

Needless to say this little family of 3.5 is exhasted. We wake up exhausted. We go to sleep exhausted.

But then our two year old hands me a broken ballon and tells me it’s a mustache- and I must wear it.

I mean, how can I complain when she hasn’t, not even once. She doesn’t even seem to notice the boxes everywhere or the fact that her nursery has been pulled apart.  She just loves facial hair and balloons. Can you blame her?

When we finally made it out of the house and went to the park ( your request), it was filled to the brim with an all boys school. They were swarming. I thought better and reached for your hand but it was too late. You climbed up the ladder and placed yourself in the middle of hundreds of big boys. You approached the slide but got pushed back time and time again. You retreated, but did not get down, did not look for me, and did not loose your temper. Instead you observed, and when it was safe you made your way down the slide.

This happened two more times until one of the little boys stuck his finger in your face and it hurt your feelings so badly that you laid down on the bench- at the top of the slide. My heart broke. He did it again. Again you laid down. He did it again and walked away. You got up and made your way down the slide. When you got the the bottom I told you that I was proud of you  and that you were brave. You shrugged.

A few moments later I found you sitting still underneath a big tree. You were sad, but you’re too little to have the words to describe hurt feelings.

Today we went to the park  again and you played with a group of 4th graders.

Then you found two 3.5 year olds and played with them for 30 minutes or more. You flirted with the little boy and adored the little girl. You were so happy. Then the little girl stole her purse back from you and said “You can’t play with me any more. I don’t want to play with you.” You stood there, shocked. And while I can say sometimes I can see an older child’s annoyance coming, and shield you, this surprised me as much as it surprised you. My heart broke. I wanted to kill that little girl- but I remembered that someday that will be you and your words to another younger child. I asked you to come to me, you said no. You starred at the girl and you didn’t follow her. You walked over to me for a hug. It hurt me to see your feelings hurt.

I love that you pursue the impossible. You have never been invited into a fold, but you always wiggle your way in. You lead whenever possible and act older then you are. This morning you asked to watch the news with your breakfast. I wish I could make every kid see just how spectacular you are, but I’m just your Mama. My job is to build you up big enough that no other child or person steals your sparkle; not yesterday, or today, not tomorrow or ever.

I can see now that all the stuff I thought was hard,  is nothing compared to what’s coming. Shielding you, surrounding you, letting you go-  how will we make it through the pre-teen years without me standing in your way?  You are many many things to many many people, but for me you are mine. An extension of myself…only better. Me 2.0.

I know one thing, they can try Girl but they don’t know what I’m instilling into you. They don’t know the power of  the  million or more  strong women behind us. They don’t know the history of our mouth and the power of our actions. You aren’t just my child you are the child of every woman   (on two sides) before you. So when they push you back from the slide or steal the purse from your hands- don’t you ever back down and don’t you ever give up. We wouldn’t, and we won’t let you. And if that’s not enough, call your Nana, she’ll whip their ass and take you out for McDonald’s.

Me: Come on! Get dressed! Now!!!

Her: No.

Me: You don’t want to come with Mommy to Target? ( her favorite store)

Her: No.

Me: Okay…how about the park with Noelle?

Her: No.

Me: Gracen, I’m going to go without you. You will be here alone.

She feeds Butterscotch her horse and waters my plants.

Me: I have a lot to do today. Get! DRESSED!!!!!!

Her: No Mommy, I stay here.

Me: Seriously, I will leave you.

Her: Bye.

Needless to say, we will not be leaving the house today.   I have learned to choose my battles with her. It’s not always easy, sometimes I feel defeated…like I lost to a 2 year old. She’s not 2 in so many ways. She’s like 2 going on 22. Thank  God for new baby- I will pin them against each other! Play favorites! Soon I will say things like, Oh you don’t want to go? Well new baby does and s/he is my favorite now. I bet she gets dressed then!!! Okay so that’s the anger talking, but still. That’s not a bad plan right? Don’t make that face- it worked for Mommydearest.

**Wait!!!!!! I just got an apology from the naked woman running around my living room.

Her: I’m sorry Mama. I was just….I’m sorry.

I get a big hug.

Me: So, are you ready to get dressed? Ready to go?

Her: No. I stay here.

I had a college boyfriend who lived at home for a few years with his parents. His Mom offered to drive me back and forth to the train, or make me dinner, or help me  with one thing or another and my famous response was always “That’s okay, or  I got it, or no thank you.” One time she looked me dead in my face and said “I told ____ that you would say no. You always say no! I told him, that Stephanie Statham is fiercely independent.”

It was then, and still remains, my most cherished compliment.

It should come as no surprise then that my Sunshine girl can be described in the exact same way. The other day while riding the train she let go of  my hand, insisting that she sit. And it wasn’t enough to  just sit, she had to sit at least 20 feet away from me. She looked around, out the windows, studied the other riders, and smiled to herself.  She looked back at me with a face that is more Matt’s then mine, but it’s her spirit- identical to mine that I always see. She was proud that she was sitting on her own. She enjoys the feeling of independence.

I get it. It’s addictive. It’s how you know that you’re a woman. I get it.

The thing is when you have a child you do your best to hold them close and protect them from growing up too fast. You hold them  first to your chest, then in your arms, then on your lap, and  eventually by the hand. When she let go of my hand, I felt my foundation crack just a little. It was a dull pierce to the heart, as if someone had taken a hammer and nail and pounded it directly into my chest. I never realized the security of holding her hand and sometimes I don’t know if I’m holding on for her sake or mine; the line is  blurred. I trust that she can do it, because she is of me and from me and I would do it to.

Oh Miss Independent, how you rule the universe of my heart.

I like you…

especially when you are terrible…

but, particularly when you are wonderful.

No one person is ever both at the same time. Ebb and Flow. Ebb and Flow.

Here we are little baby, 28 weeks and counting…

 We are rounding that corner, straddling that line between possible and impossible.  Somehow you will be here in just 12 weeks and I have so many contractions and so much body pain that I think it might be even sooner than that.

Do me one favor and just hold on. Stay put. Keep rolling around to let me know you are okay in there. I promise in a little over a month I will sit down, stop moving, and somehow get your sister to stop jumping on you.

Also, I promise to stop screaming out loud when I see the numbers on the scale rising. I’m working on it, I can tell it frightens you every morning.