Thursday, October 18, 2012

Feeling Like a Grown Up.

Something about welcoming in a nearly nine pound baby with the smoothest, most heavenly skin that has ever graced the state of Arkansas has made me feel more like a grown up. I mean, sure, I am twenty-six years old and have been a mom for exactly two years, three months, and eighteen days (plus two hours and some change), but something about having a second baby has made me feel more like a true blue adult rather than a thirteen year old masquerading as an adult.

Little H-26

So! Here are three times in the past three days where I've had "I'm an adult!" moments.

One: Earlier this week, during the latest political debate, I walked out of Max's room, leaving him in the dark to happily peruse three different books (Hooray for Wodney Wat, The Belly Button Book, and The Ear Book, if you're curious), kissed my sleeping baby as he swung in his swing, and started loading the dishwasher as my husband muttered under his breath about how much he can't stand the Republican Party. It was something I do every day- check on my son after his dad puts him to bed, kiss my children, tidy up the kitchen, and hear my husband ramble about politics- but in that moment, it felt like such a grown up cliche.

Two: This afternoon, after changing Henry's outfit for the fifth or sixth time (okay, it was the second), I gave him a little baby massage and followed it up with a little toddler massage for Maxwell- homeboy strips down to his diaper as soon as he sees the baby lotion pulled out- actually, today, he laid down on the bed and handed me the bottle. Anyway, afterwards, Maxwell ripped his diaper off and started running around the apartment screaming "I naked! I naked, Mama! NAKED!". Let's be honest, a naked, un-potty trained toddler running around an apartment doesn't really lend itself to a moment of reflection, but as he ran around, I looked at the baby on the bed and looked at the squealing toddler flailing across the room, and thought "What?!" because, really, I cannot even believe how fast this happened.

Three: Tonight, I looked up from nursing Henry and told my husband that it probably wasn't the best idea to let Max eat brownies and potato chips for dinner while lounging on the living room floor watching a show about barnyard animals, but instead of getting worked up and nagging, I rolled my eyes and let it go because, some days (like today), a brownie dinner doesn't really matter. Sure, it would matter if it were every night, but once in a blue moon? Not so much. And so I ate a brownie, too!

Anyway, my whole point is that I am amazed at how fast time goes. It seems like this morning I wondered who I would marry or what it would be like to have kids and, this afternoon, I somehow have two children and a husband and a wedding ring that won't fit again for several weeks. It's almost surreal! I've always been a daydreamer so I daydreamed countless times about what my twenties (and thirties, forties, and fifties and every other age) would be like. I'm a curious person in general and I just am a little in awe lately that I really am an adult and not just pretending to be one.

Also, something about having these reflections makes me wonder if my mom felt the same way when she was raising me and my siblings, because I'm guessing she did and that most other moms did (and do!), too.