If I thought I didn't post very often before a child landed smack-dab in the middle of my life, I had another thought coming.
I wish I had posts niggling away in the back of my mind, just itching to run through my fingers into the computer keys, but I don't. It's as if I've not only lost the time but also the contemplative power to post.
Is my mind too full of to-dos and what-ifs to ponder anything beyond/above myself and my day? Or maybe I've allowed my mind to snack on diversions rather than dig into a feast of actual thought.
Or maybe this parenting thing is just completely all-encompassing.
Parenting isn't something a body can do halfway. A person really has to be all in - or not at all. Good parenting, bad parenting, that's another topic entirely; but if you're going to raise a little ankle-biter, it's going to completely revamp your life.
After N was born, someone told us that having a child was the most unselfish decision a couple could make. I'm still thinking having the SECOND child is least selfish, because then you have an idea of what you're giving up:
the right to your own glass and plate;
the ability to do a task from beginning to finish without interruption;
the possession of your own bed;
the luxury of using the bathroom by yourself;
the chance to sleep through the night;
the pursuit of hobbies, reading, and other interests;
and on and on and on . . .
N and I were at the town kiddie pool yesterday. It's a little wading area set off from the main pool, starts at 0" and gets to 1' 6" at the "deep" end. It comes complete with nine little fountains of water, three sets of three, spraying, bubbling, and shooting in their respective places. A favorite activity of the young patrons is to step on one of the fountains in a set, causing the others to spray further than normal.
N, taking everything in as she does, saw the "big" kids doing this and decided she would get in on that action.
She pulled herself out of the 4" section, hurried her way to the deep end, and flopped her toes down on the first fountain she came to.
Surprise!
The water shot between her toes and, rerouted by her interference, squirted right up into her face!
Shocked and a utterly perplexed, she backed up, furiously wiping water from her eyes. I wanted to laugh, but instead put on my compassionate face and helped her dry her face.
"Did the water squirt you?" I asked.
"Uh-uh," she answered with quivering lip.
"Here, use your whole foot, like this," I demonstrated.
And she did! She was so proud! Stepping on the fountain like the big kids!
She just had to go all in.
