Friday, January 18, 2013

Year three for this youngest.

Phew. That was a marathon evening. The flu I was hoping we would miraculously escape unscathed may have touched down in the Hutt household. Two little sickies were up feverish and delirious, staunchly refusing Tylenol while temperatures reached dangerously high. The horror stories of fellow mom friends makes my fear of high fevers causing seizures and brain damage outweigh my fear of drugs. So, long story short, once we convinced the two littles medicine going in their mouths would feel better than the cool facecloths, the whole night got much better. Thank goodness Troy was here, they would have outnumbered me.

This New Year's Eve was spent home, on the couch with our oldest between us. It was the best start to a new year I've had in a long time. Video games, a new project cast on knitting needles, and sweatpants! Thane had remembered that at one point I had said when he was 10 he could stay up until midnight on New Years Eve. I remember 10 years old seemed so far away at that point.

This New Year it hit me that this was the year I've been waiting for. My stomach flipped in excitement. We did it. I've made it.

My youngest turns 3 this year!

It's been my light at the end of my baby tunnel. One of my most beloved friends, her family a ten year older version of mine, said once (probably on one of my darker baby days), that "Life fundamentally changes when your youngest turns three." And I so got it.

Two years ago I watched with a baby in my arms as Troy put the wood in alone, with mild help/interference from the older boys. One year ago I tried to help while Max sat in his puffy snowsuit, falling over and crying when he tried to move. I really wasn't much help, more there in spirit than anything. Last fall, I did a fair amount of the piling in between 'helping Max help' (watching his cuteness bring in small sticks so excitedly) and exiting to get him down for a nap at some point.

Now don't get me wrong. The other three certainly wreak their own brand of havoc. But there's conversation, solo bathroom trips, negotiations around bedtime instead of, I don't know, that maniacal laughter toddlers do when not staying in bed, and most importantly, when I'm busy I can often help them just with verbal instructions. Amazing thing, developing communication skills.

But it's the youngest, the youngest who dictates the order of the day. When under three anyway.

I loved my time with each of these babies. It's been so precious. The magic of pregnancy and their births. Their soft snuggly sweetness, so cute milestones, their non judgement, their honesty, genuine everything, their neediness. But now, after year ten of babies, I am ready to raise my increasingly independent preschoolers and big kids, and snuggle other people's babies when I can.

Yesterday. Yesterday I painted a room while the kids were awake. My two and a half year old mostly understood not to touch the walls.

Things are getting easier. So far I like you 2013. Even though I should go to bed before the rest of us get struck down by the flu.

That will be great. Let's cross our fingers I get it last.

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