My daughter looks alarmingly much like me when I was a baby....now don't you worry, she's definitely going to be Anna and not a carbon copy of me. But it's like I am seeing my baby pictures in action...my sister, Claire, sees it too.
I have been thinking..thinking about the lady you see in the grocery store with that child. I used to think bad parenting, right there, yikes , I never want to be that mother. And then it happened one day when I realized I was that mother with that child in the check out line just trying to keep it together for five more minutes while something small and red headed is flopping gasping -fishlike on the floor. Now the child I am speaking of doesn't really exist anymore, metaphorically speaking...we see him everyone once in awhile-that feisty, defiant, wildly unpredictable tempest but mostly what we have now is a child with the difficult parts simmered and sifted out. We have a wonderful, thoughtful intelligent little boy going on six which by the way IS the magic number. And I find myself wondering, did all of that really happen after all?
Now that the weather is cooperating, the boys are outside all day....hanging off the trees, playing in the hole, it's such a different time. The storm has calmed a bit but the little brother is taking up the reins every once in awhile. We have our days. And I've mellowed too.
And these days, keeping up with the three boys (2 mine, one BF) is less emotional and more physical, like cleaning up after the StayPuff marshmallow man after he exploded all over Manhattan...though it's not yummy fluffy marshmallow I'm cleaning up, it's Virginia red clay and worm guts. And I love it (not the cleaning part)... Our house isn't tipping over from frustration and mom isn't worried about the simplest thing like going to the grocery store and now I've got those children...the happy ones.... albeit covered in mud.