One

The stage of infancy has slipped through our parenting fingers.  Tiny little critters, freshly birthed will no longer have their first tour of home, first night, first smile, etc., the list goes on of firsts we will no longer be privy to. 

This brings sadness to my soul.  Sadness that is deep rooted and will take time to heal.  The sadness brings out sobs, and makes my face streaked with salty tears for days.  I cry and morn the loss of a growing baby and the newly born infant.  I think of that first smile I will no longer witness, and the first coo softly whimpered in my arms. 

All these things are gone but surely not forgotten.  The tears need to be dried and the future brightly looked toward.  Zane has turned one.  Violette is two.  Max is three. Noelle is five.  These ages demand my utmost attention and love.  They need me to put the sadness away and nurture their growing minds. 

One.  Such a small number.  A number meaning first.  Zane has experienced his first year of life.  The first of many more.  Growth in the first year is always amazing.  A newborn of only natural reflexes, to feed and sleep has turned into a little boy determined to grab everything off of any surface within sight.  Many smiles are given to all who smile at him.  He loves big these days, especially his siblings.  He loves toy cars and pushes them around like a champion, creating a brotherly squabble over them, daily.  Zane communicates with minimal baby sign, by pointing, grunting, and he has a few words stock piled in his vocabulary. 

This next year a forming personality will be molded even farther.  His vocabulary will grossly be expanded and we will see him mature.  The baby in him will fade even farther as chunky, unsteady legs will transform into lean, strong runners.  His round perfect cheeks will elongated into a handsome little man.  He will develop deeper and strong bonds will his siblings.  I will strive to learn how to be a better mom to four children who are becoming more independent and nurturing their own strong personalities.  The tears will diminish over my last baby.  The future is my focus.

I told a stories before bed this evening.  A turtle who was helped by a tricycle riding two year old and a young girl who received a horse for her sixth birthday (there will be no birthday gifted horse, but a girl can imagine and fall asleep with trotting hooves in her ears) were on the menu, again.  After I nursed Zane to sleep.  This ritual is one he and I are no where ready to give up.  He’s one, but still a baby.  After I held him close, gently set my lips on his soft forehead and stroked his fine blond hair.  My lips pursed and I kissed him over and over.  His hand slowly lifted to my cheek.  He’s still a baby, my baby.  I’ll keep him this way for awhile longer.  I’m not really ready for it to be over, but will try to make my focus be our family of six and not dwell on wanting a family of eight. 

Fall Festivities

We’re experiencing an Indian Summer.  Warmth, leaves flooded with color, crisp cool nights, pumpkins, walks, it has been almost two full weeks of weather perfection.  All six of us are soaking it up and enjoying it.  Actually, that’s an understatement.  This fabulous weather and the fall season is our drug.  We are addicts, this weather and season is all we think about and want to experience. 

Over the last few years, pregnancy, little babies, naps and schedules, and exhaustion have ruled our lives.  Zane is almost a year, we are a complete family, and now going out is much less work and easier to do on a whim. 

My whim hit on Sunday.  Six years I have lived in the area.  Six years I have driven by this paved trail that seemed to be all around.  It crossed this road, and that road, and there it was again.  It looked appealing, while driving, then someone would cry and I would forget about it.  Violette isn’t napping anymore (this one is hard for me, my breaks have been seriously nonexistent) Zane has learned to go with the flow.  I spelled out my plan (we must spell quickly, Noelle usually catches most of it, short of talking to each other in a secret language, nighttime is the only time to plan without making them aware of it) Tom agreed and we loaded up to hit the trail.  We found an entrance onto this seemingly, glorious, paved path and unloaded the bulky double stroller. 

This trail/path is awesome.  The colors were vivid and spectacular.  The trees on both sides, bent to form a secret tunnel for us.  The others on the trail were few and zoomed quickly by on bikes, leaving us again to our own little paradise.  The kids carried Treasure bags, picking up leaves, caterpillars, berries, and whatever else they wanted to savor. 

I thought the children wouldn’t last very long.  Just the opposite occurred and they seemed completely enthralled with our adventure and didn’t want to head back.  We walked on and on, sometimes busting out in a full on run, racing each other, then little legs would tire and be hoisted onto Daddy’s or my shoulders.  Tom and I held hands, and watched our brood, admiring them and the surroundings.  It was just right.  A few hours of complete family bliss in a gorgeous place.

Continuing on with fall festivities on Monday, our playgroup met at a local pumpkin farm.  Max dominated the children’s maze, busting through the hay exit like he owned the place.  Violette was smitten with a decorative “teeny weeny tiny” pumpkin, and Zane couldn’t get enough of the pigs.  Another notch on our fall belt, success!

Minimal Words Needed

I’ve started writing a post every day this week.  I would write, reread and promptly delete it.  Words were failing me.  I couldn’t get my point across.  I couldn’t convey properly my feelings.  On Friday, I realized I didn’t have to write a long post.  I just had put down a moment I had with Max.

Max sat with me, snuggled in, enjoying down time while the house was quite.  Randomly he looked to the painting directly above us and said, “Great Grandma made that.  I miss her.”  This really happened, no joke, no embellishments.  He does not know that she passed away a year ago, Friday.  I cried and he gently put his large hands on my cheeks and affectionately petted me while resting his forehead on mine.  “Please don’t cry Mommy.”  Children are amazing.

We all dearly miss you, Grandma!