Lucky

I braced myself. 

Typically, it’s “You’ve got your hands full!”  Or “Wait until they are teenagers!” And “I hope your husband has a shotgun!”

But instead, this stranger at my door remarked, without hesitation, “You’re so lucky.”

And my heart smiled.  

The girls, never far from me, peeking from behind my legs smiled, too as I replied, “I really am.  I hit the jackpot!”

To be valued, to be appreciated, to be wanted- aren’t these all things that make us feel safe and joyful?

Getting my girls to the ages of 4, 6, 8 and 10 has been a rocky road.  In the back of my mind, I always held these particular ages up as the light to the end of my endless tunnel.  

And we made it!  We are here!  We are cruising and absolutely cherishing our baby girls.  

For the first time, I finally feel what mothers have been telling me for a decade now.  That it goes so fast.  That I’ll miss this time, one day.  Before, another baby always followed so I never felt like I had the chance to miss any phase. 

Now, I look at my eldest and I see her changing.  I want to bottle her up and cherish this moment in time.  But there she grows.  I find myself equal parts nostalgic and eager to continue to witness who she is becoming.  To know her. 

I’m no fool.  I realize the teenage years, especially with a house-full of girls (sharing one hallway bathroom with one sink!) is going to have its share of drama.  It already does.  

But I am actively choosing to focus on the light.  To focus on the blessing of their existence.  To feel lucky.  

Camille Vaughan Photography

How to Eat a Sandwich (as a mother of 4)

  1. Realize you are hungry and contemplate what you’d like to eat.
  2. Break up a fight between the 2 & 4 year-old.
  3. Look inside the fridge for your lunch.
  4. Listen to the demands of the 2 & 4 year old who appeared out of nowhere (seriously, there must be an embedded sensor to let them know when the fridge door opens).
  5. Give the blessed children the yogurt already!
  6. Grab the bread to make your fantasized sandwich.
  7. Attend to the crying baby in the back of the house.
  8. Whisper-yell at the two year old to close the ever-loving door while you nurse a, now, distracted baby.
  9. Frantically search for your phone to ascertain whether it is time for you to pick the 6 year-old up from her sleepover.  Breathe a sigh of a relief when you read a text announcing they are keeping her until after lunch.
  10. Calm the frustrated 4 year old who can’t figure out how to turn Paw Patrol on.
  11. Return to the kitchen to grab the turkey, hummus and veggies to make your sandwich.
  12. Assist the two year-old who announces she needs to go potty, now!
  13. Nod your head yes that it is, indeed, lunch time.  Abandon your sandwich attempt to heat soup, chicken nuggets, cut strawberries and put together a PBJ.
  14.  Blow on the soup until you feel dizzy.  Curse at yourself for forgetting that 1 minute in the microwave is too long.
  15. Spread the hummus on your bread.  Cut your veggies and layer them, alongside the turkey.
  16. Recognize the sound of the ending credits of Paw Patrol and seize your chance to put the two year old down for her nap.  After all, it’s the “magic window” and thus, now or never.
  17. Walk the two year old to look out the windows and doors from all sides of the house to reassure her there is indeed, no thunder today.
  18. Change her into a diaper, turn on her noise machine, remind her that if she gets out of bed, you are closing her door and you mean it, today!
  19. Take a bite of that big, beautiful sandwich.
  20. Help the 4 year-old change into jammies because she wants to nap today since her big sister isn’t around to play.
  21. Close her door and open door to now, awake baby.
  22. Completely forget about sandwich.
  23. Pick 6 year-old up from sleepover.
  24. Take girls outside to play.
  25. Give girls a bath.
  26. Look at the clock that says 5 PM and laugh at the stale sandwich.

Alternatively:

  1.  Make Sandwich.
  2. Let baby cry, toddler pee her pants and skip her nap, and listen to four year old tantrum until you’ve finished eating.

Pick your poison!

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Mirror

I can feel it.  My blood boiling.  My muscles tensing.  My heart pounding and head spinning.  I can’t get her to stop crying.  I can’t get them to stop fighting. I find myself screaming, “CALM DOWN!” and then internally chuckle at how ironic I sound.

Mirror.

Ghandi said it best.  “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”

I walk away.  Take a deep breath.  Regroup.  Resurface.  Kneel down to her eye-level and offer what I could use right now.  A hug.

She cries.

I stay silent and rub her back, allowing her the time and space to release her tension.

We look at one another and crack the hint of a knowing smile.

Seen.  Understood. Healed.

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Camille Vaughan Photography