Flying Baby

I was accosted yesterday in the grocery check-out line by a bleary-eyed man in his early 30s. He was putting up the last of his groceries when he saw Em, obligingly sitting on her bottom in the grocery cart, organizing various noodles. His eyes then wandered up to see Cooper, sitting in the cart's seat, making funny faces at Harper, who was in a baby carrier strapped to my chest. Harper was giggling and Cooper was near hysterics. The man made eye contact and instantly started talking at a break-neck speed, but as I don't understand Afrikaans much, it was hard to catch what he was saying. I got that he had two kids who were either 8 weeks or 8 months. So I asked him which in English, and he dutifully changed languages for me. It seemed to take every ounce of concentration he had left in his weary mind to formulate his words, but he plodded on, despite the effort. Turns out, his wife had twins 8 weeks ago and people keep telling him it'll get better, but he desperately needed to know WHEN. When would he get his wife back? When would he get sleep again? When would he be able to live on something besides legally addictive stimulants such as coffee and energy drinks?

I laughed. I shouldn't have laughed at this poor, poor man who was desperately trying to shake the fog from his head and recognize his own life, but I did laugh. Sometimes, the reflection you catch in the mirror when you come across other weary parents is just too much for anything else. My laughter caught him off guard but he was determined to get an answer, so he pressed on. I told him the babies would sleep... eventually. I told him he'd have more fun when they could laugh and giggle at him, when he wasn't afraid of breaking them every time he held one. I told him it would go by quickly, mostly aided by the lack of sleep in the meantime. He wasn't taking it though. He pressed again, when? And standing there, in the grocery aisle, I realized I had crossed some invisible line. It was easier for me to grocery shop with three NOW than it ever was to shop with Todd when I had just Em. I'm more capable now of throwing stuff in our mini-van and just going than I ever was with just one, or even two, even with a husband to help (in only a way a loving, yet clueless new dad can "help").

That got me thinking and I realized a few truths. Every kid really IS different. Em was laid-back and easy. She was quiet and without much neediness. Cooper was as needy as they get, and picky to boot. But this kid, this third child of mine who entered the world making darn sure I was well aware that she was not going to keep the status quo and just fall into line with everyone else, is normal. She does all the things her siblings never did, but that 96.3% of all other babies do. She laughs uncontrollably. She smiles at strangers, but only if she can see Mommy nearby. She does the elusive flying-baby I've heard so much about, but haven't ever seen. And, best of all, she's easily amused, and easily distracted. Cooper was easily distracted, but not much for being amused by anything. Em was highly amused by many things, but if something got under her skin or into her head, there was zero detraction from that one particular thing. It seems like so long ago that the older two were this small. Were in this constant state of learning and growing and changing. So today, while Em and Cooper were napping, I decided to get a shot or two of my littlest, who is more and more her own girl every day.

Sir, whoever and wherever you are, take heart. You'll sleep again, you'll get a routine once more and soon, all too soon, those little babes will be wrapping you around their little fingers. Promise.

The pretend JCPenny/Sears studio shot.

I love my ball, but I love my mommy even more... she makes me drool!!!

I believe I can fly...