It’s well over an hour past bedtime, and the host of shenanigans will not end upstairs tonight. Such is the case with summer daylight and sharing a bedroom, I suppose, but the string of nights where this has been the case feels unceasing. I’ve heard the toilet flush no less than four times in sixty minutes. The littlest has joined me once downstairs. The eldest has gotten dad’s attention outside several times from the upstairs window, and the banter about light sabering each other and who needs which stuffed animal just will. not. end.
I’d be writing about something else tonight entirely, but the running dialogue from daytime has carried itself far later into the evening than is desirable, and all I can hear is the back and forth of kiddos again and again in my ears.
This is the beautiful, trying, hopeful, crazy season of life we’re in.
I wonder frequently to myself about how the new baby will settle into the monkeyish madness of it all. I know third babies are often flexible, go with the flow type personalities who slot right into the current family dynamic, but I don’t want to make assumptions. The first six months with Eloise were some of the most challenging of my life, and for various reasons. Mostly, she and I didn’t sleep for more than a three hour stretch at night, and a good part of our days were spent trying to figure out how to help our little peanut, who was clearly uneasy with life and frequently in pain. She is an incredibly easy going personality now, but I still carry that experience with me. It was terribly hard.
So I think forward to less than two months from now and try to project all of the best possible outcomes while still bracing myself for what I know could also be very tough. I absolutely mean it when I say that I can’t wait to welcome this new babe into our family. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m just having a hard time feeling like I enter into much of anything gracefully these days, and I don’t want that to be true of the days surrounding baby’s arrival.
My perfectionist tendencies pour out onto the table right about here.
The third trimester of pregnancy is such a dichotomy, isn’t it? You want to be doing ALL of the things, but circumstances kind of dictate that you actually slow down a bit. Only some of the tasks get done…on a good day. I feel like I need to find a way to settle into that reality peacefully, but in this pregnancy especially, it’s an effort for me to do so.
The other day I shared about getting to my emotional to do list before my physical one. Every bit of what I said is true. I am definitely prioritizing emotional things over physical ones these days, and that feels appropriate. But the nesting, particular, visionary mama in me wishes regularly that all of the lists were dwindling more than they actually are.
I guess you could say my flexibility is in training for the days to come when this baby is no longer tucked away, but out in the world and contributing to our family in whatever ways he or she brings life to the table. That’s probably a good thing.
The unrest upstairs tonight is reflective of my own unrest as I sort through the contents of another toasty summer day packed with plenty to do and more that will be left undone. If I’m recording these days with honesty, then the reality here is exactly this. We’re all tired. We’re all a bit frayed at the edges for various reasons. We’re all excited for baby to come, and probably all a tad emotionally charged because that day is on the horizon.
I need to be filling up my tank with grace each day so I can extend it out to the people I love the most. I haven’t cracked the code on this by any stretch, but I’m going to keep trying.
banking on the highlights of the day today, and looking forward to a fresh start in the morning,