Those who know me well can tell you that I "tend" towards type-A on the spectrum. I like things done a certain way, looking a certain way, organized a certain way. I hate being late. I am generally pretty neat and start to get a little stressed out when things are unorganized for too long. And I struggle to accept that something done another way is not "wrong." While these things hold true, I've begun detecting just the slightest shift in this personality of mine.
I read again the other night the quote we have on Soren's wall. "Boy, n.: A noise with dirt on it." And it served as a reminder to me, which was a big part of why I chose it. Kids, and I think especially boys, will mess up your life. I have tripped on my share of toys in my once tidy living room. I don't get (or have the energy) to clean as often as I'd like and the layers of dust at times drive me crazy, as does the constant shedding of dog hair (that one I clean more often). I'm amazed at how messy a kid can get at breakfast, lunch AND dinner. And now I'm more often late than early.
But this mess in my life isn't all bad, because that's the reason for this shift of personality. Parenting a toddler has helped me learn to relax a little bit. Organization is still crucial to me surviving day to day, but I can overlook a dusty table in order to play with trucks or a dishwasher full of clean dishes to build. I can take an extra five minutes to feed the dog because my little helper wants to do it. Sometimes, I can even overlook a little dog hair because Soren insists on doing the sweeping. (Though not often, so usually the sweeping happens during nap time.) And I hope in these choices that I am helping my little boy learn the value of people over tasks, understand that he is capable and helpful and that while being organized is helpful and efficient, sometimes a mess can wait while a accept a hug or spend time reading with family.
I know there are many other messes of varying kinds to look forward to in the years to come and I pray that these baby steps I'm taking to be more flexible and adaptable at this stage will help me in the times when these messes are bigger or more complicated. When my kid is hurting and I can't make it better. When my kid gets into a mess and I have to help pick up the pieces. Hopefully the lessons we're both learning now: for Soren that he is capable, valuable and loved and for me that people are always more important to me than tasks, hopefully these will serve us as we journey together.
As I read the words on Soren's wall, it served as a little gut check for myself that kids will be kids, they'll get messy and that my house and my life won't be as neat and tidy as it was before. And as I stood in that room, holding my little boy over the bulge of my coming boy, I knew in my heart that I wouldn't want it any other way.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Anticipation
I realized that Soren's been getting all the attention on here lately, even as I started my last entry talking about getting ready for the next baby. The second pregnancy sure is a whole different experience than the first. Some of those differences come because everything's not new or strange anymore. I understand a bit better what my body and I are going through (although I sure seem to have forgotten a lot in two years, as well). But my focus is a lot different now, too. Instead of using all my spare time to think about or plan for this new little baby, I find I have no spare time! Not exactly true, but I have a whole lot less and so things keep getting pushed aside for another time.
I'm pretty sure we had a name at this point with the last baby. We're not even close (unless Erich finally gives in to my innumerable excellent suggestions). The nursery-to-be is still full of office furniture and men's clothes in the closet. The plus side is that we have the furniture and bedding - it's just in use by a big brother at the moment. With all the other things going on -- finishing stuff on the kitchen remodel, getting the yard ready for fall/winter (when you miss most of the summer it takes a lot to catch up!) and keeping up with an active toddler -- we find ourselves drained of energy and resources and time to prepare for this little one.
Yet despite these limitations, it is with great anticipation that I await the arrival of our little boy. He is being knit together in the last few months to be a unique and special addition to our family. Though we do not yet know his name, God does and always has. God knows the number of hairs on his head, his eye color and his personality. And I think each day about the future moments when I will discover these same things about our second son. His life is also a gift to us and I am reminded of that each time I feel this little boy move within me, whether it's a kick to the ribs or a gentle rolling that makes my whole stomach move.
While some of the physical preparations for this baby may be lacking, in my heart I am busily preparing a place that this little boy has already begun to occupy. I know in a more personal way what we will experience upon the arrival of this baby; not just the sleep deprivation and shift in responsibilities, but also the love and joy, the quiet, tender moments we will experience and the overwhelming emotions that come with raising a child. In those ways, I am even more ready than before to welcome this little boy, waiting in great anticipation.
I'm pretty sure we had a name at this point with the last baby. We're not even close (unless Erich finally gives in to my innumerable excellent suggestions). The nursery-to-be is still full of office furniture and men's clothes in the closet. The plus side is that we have the furniture and bedding - it's just in use by a big brother at the moment. With all the other things going on -- finishing stuff on the kitchen remodel, getting the yard ready for fall/winter (when you miss most of the summer it takes a lot to catch up!) and keeping up with an active toddler -- we find ourselves drained of energy and resources and time to prepare for this little one.
Yet despite these limitations, it is with great anticipation that I await the arrival of our little boy. He is being knit together in the last few months to be a unique and special addition to our family. Though we do not yet know his name, God does and always has. God knows the number of hairs on his head, his eye color and his personality. And I think each day about the future moments when I will discover these same things about our second son. His life is also a gift to us and I am reminded of that each time I feel this little boy move within me, whether it's a kick to the ribs or a gentle rolling that makes my whole stomach move.
While some of the physical preparations for this baby may be lacking, in my heart I am busily preparing a place that this little boy has already begun to occupy. I know in a more personal way what we will experience upon the arrival of this baby; not just the sleep deprivation and shift in responsibilities, but also the love and joy, the quiet, tender moments we will experience and the overwhelming emotions that come with raising a child. In those ways, I am even more ready than before to welcome this little boy, waiting in great anticipation.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Ch-Ch-Changes
We (make that mostly "I") am busy getting ready for BW2. I'm thinking about how to rearrange furniture, decorate the new nursery, and just generally getting the house ready for winter and a newborn. I am also watching my first baby turn into a little boy before my eyes.
Some of it is our own doing; last weekend we took a side of Soren's crib to start the transition to a big boy bed so his baby brother can have the crib. He's doing great at that and we are relieved, but it's hard to move on. I wonder how I'll feel when his real bed is set up and the baby stuff has gone to the neighboring room.
Some of it is the stuff of toddlerhood, with greater independence and a lot of "Soren do it" or "Self" which, in Sorenese means he wants to to do something without help from us. Or the ability and desire to eat his food not cut into minute pieces, but proportions that are more adult-sized: "together" as Soren calls it through tears. Occasionally, this also results in a tantrum of terrible twos proportions, which we aren't used to without gentle-spirited little boy.
And some of it are the small changes that are almost imperceptible: I noticed the other day that Soren's pudgy "rubberband wrists" are starting to disappear. I literally came close to tears at this observation. Soren's always been pretty slim, but I loved those little wrist rolls. And I'm losing them, just like I'm losing my little baby to boyhood.
These changes: physical, developmental or in our environment signal a time of transition that leaves me with some sadness as I miss the days of his infancy. But I also get great joy out of seeing the milestones and accomplishments Soren makes daily. He loves to share with others (usually). He desires to make friends. And we think he's pretty smart because two days after our first day of school, he remembers that I told him beforehand that we will "make new friends" and that he played with trucks and that we have to "wait door open" (we cannot enter the room until the door is opened by the teacher). That makes him a genius, right?!
He loves books, trucks, running, building, and his dog, Marley. He's all boy. He's still my baby. But he's growing up. Our future holds big changes as Soren turns 2 and becomes a big brother. I look back with sadness (and sweet memories) at what has already passed and I look forward with anticipation for the days to come. But most of all, I try to enjoy the moment and cherish each day we have right now. Because each day is special, each holds a unique experience or blessing or interaction with our little boy and an opportunity to glimpse the boy -- and much later the man -- God has gifted us with parenting.
Some of it is our own doing; last weekend we took a side of Soren's crib to start the transition to a big boy bed so his baby brother can have the crib. He's doing great at that and we are relieved, but it's hard to move on. I wonder how I'll feel when his real bed is set up and the baby stuff has gone to the neighboring room.
Some of it is the stuff of toddlerhood, with greater independence and a lot of "Soren do it" or "Self" which, in Sorenese means he wants to to do something without help from us. Or the ability and desire to eat his food not cut into minute pieces, but proportions that are more adult-sized: "together" as Soren calls it through tears. Occasionally, this also results in a tantrum of terrible twos proportions, which we aren't used to without gentle-spirited little boy.
And some of it are the small changes that are almost imperceptible: I noticed the other day that Soren's pudgy "rubberband wrists" are starting to disappear. I literally came close to tears at this observation. Soren's always been pretty slim, but I loved those little wrist rolls. And I'm losing them, just like I'm losing my little baby to boyhood.
These changes: physical, developmental or in our environment signal a time of transition that leaves me with some sadness as I miss the days of his infancy. But I also get great joy out of seeing the milestones and accomplishments Soren makes daily. He loves to share with others (usually). He desires to make friends. And we think he's pretty smart because two days after our first day of school, he remembers that I told him beforehand that we will "make new friends" and that he played with trucks and that we have to "wait door open" (we cannot enter the room until the door is opened by the teacher). That makes him a genius, right?!
He loves books, trucks, running, building, and his dog, Marley. He's all boy. He's still my baby. But he's growing up. Our future holds big changes as Soren turns 2 and becomes a big brother. I look back with sadness (and sweet memories) at what has already passed and I look forward with anticipation for the days to come. But most of all, I try to enjoy the moment and cherish each day we have right now. Because each day is special, each holds a unique experience or blessing or interaction with our little boy and an opportunity to glimpse the boy -- and much later the man -- God has gifted us with parenting.
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