My baby turned 3 on the 16th. Sigh. While a part of me wants to jump with joy over the fact that I technically no longer have a baby in the house, the other part of me is female. And that part makes me sad to realize that my sweet baby Nash is a "big boy" now.
I always said (before I had children when I was in fact not just a genius but someone who knew everything on child-rearing, you know...that type) that I would never be "that mom" that got all teary about my children growing up. It is so funny how things come back to get you. Each and every time. And in being true to myself...I didn't get all teary with either for the first 6 months. I have never been the best mother for a newborn. The whole sleep deprivation, nursing issues, hormones, schedules, did I mention sleep deprivation, etc. was never something I excelled at. Survival mode was certainly the word for it. With Louisa, it was only just recently when I actually realized how fast she was growing. I think with your first child you are so excited for all the milestones that instead of feeling sad about the child growing, you are just happy to experience the milestone. Louisa turning 5, starting kindergarten and more recent on the verge of turning 7 is where she "got me." She has always been such a precocious child that it is silly to say, but it never really dawned on me. But Byron and I made a deal with her. From now on, she isn't getting older. She is working her way back down to 5 years and once she gets there she will stay. Let's see how well that works.
With Nash it is a different story. Knowing it is your last baby (I know, I know...setting myself up for karma here) makes it all different. It isn't just the first time your baby walks, but it is also the last time you will have a baby taking first steps. It isn't just taking down a crib for a big boy bed...it is putting the crib away for years and years. Ugh. That was hard. And as much as I gripe about changing diapers, I know one day when Nash starts kindergarten and finally decides he wants to potty train I may miss it.
Life is strange, and life is hard. But life is oh so sweet.
And this child...
Well, I still haven't figured him out. It amazes me how my children can be so similar yet be 2 totally different human beings. The problems I had with Louisa as a 2 year old are so far away from the problems I deal with Nash. Gender has a lot to do with it, but so does the whole birth order hoopla. Louisa is so similar to me that we butted heads, but I could generally figure her out and know what made/makes her tick. Nash is so not that easy. He is very unmotivated, which couldn't be more opposite from me if he tried. Maybe, just maybe, Byron and I managed to produce a child with that isn't Type A. I can hardly wrap my head around that, but it would make so much sense. What works for me, doesn't for Nash. What works for Nash, makes me twitch. If he has taught me one thing, it is to slow down. That child is in no hurry what-so-ever. I remember reading a blog written by a mother talking about how she found herself always saying "hurry up" and how she realized it affected her relationship with her children. That was one of those posts that hit home to me as I say "hurry up" often. My Type A personality is always working to be efficient and productive. And thankfully sweet ole Nash was thrown into the mix to teach me to slow down. Smell the roses. Arrive late. I am adapting slowly, but must admit I am enjoying it. If you sit back long enough to let it all sink in...children teach the best lessons. When you think about it, what they see in life are the simple things. The things that matter void of any other distractions. How can they not teach the best lessons? I am working on myself to be a better listener and follower. I've never been one to follow rules, major character flaw, I know...but this old dog is slowly learning new tricks.
Speaking of rules, I told Nash that once he turned 3 he was considered a big boy. And I told him there were certain rules to being a big boy. With his big blue eyes and chubby cheeks he looked at me and innocently asked what those rules were. I told him that it meant he was no longer allowed to whine (nothing makes me cuckoo-er than a whine) and that he had to listen to whatever Mommy and Daddy said and follow directions. I sounded so matter of fact but deep in the back of my mind I knew better. My almost 7 year old doesn't even follow those rules (oops...the apple doesn't fall far, maybe my non-rule-following self is coming back to bite me). So while it was all official of me to lay down the law I knew good and well that those same chubby cheeks and blue eyes would be his get out of jail free card. Always.
So, until I learn what makes this 3 year old (sobs) tick...this is what I have to contend with.
The whining, the temper tantrums, the refusal to follow rules, the pouts, etc. You know, no one ever warns you about that 3rd year. You hear all about the terrible 2's, but everyone stays all hush-hush about the 3's. I went into that year blind with Louisa and just barely made it out alive, so I feel prepared this time around. Let's see how well that preparation plays in my favor. Haha.
As I was just searching back through pictures - I had to include these. I had almost forgotten about the "original pout." Sweetness.
With all that said, terrible 2's and tricky 3's....no matter what is behind or ahead of us, Happy Birthday sweet Baby Nash! We love you!