Family of Five - Three Months In

For 14 years, we were a family of three. We had always been a family of three - from the very moment we became a family at all. And it seemed just right to me for all those years.

Three Bears who terrify Goldilocks. Three wise men (or Wise Guys, as we like to say around our house). Three kittens, Three Little Pigs, Three Blind Mice.

Then Bee became our daughter, and we were a family of four, just like the family I grew up in. Well, not just like it. We're much, much happier.

Bee had been home about six months when we decided that we wanted another daughter, and it took two years for that to happen. Now, we are a family of five.

I love the way it sounds. I say things like, "We're all going to take a trip - the five of us."

A woman at the natural food store asked if Posey were my only child, and I replied that, no, she's my third. My third child. It sounds just right. Solid.

With five of us, we could form a cheerleading pyramid at a moment's notice, should circumstances call for it. And one never knows when circumstances will call for it.

We became a family of five on Dec. 5. Wait a minute - that's only three months ago. That can't be. There is no way that the little girl who is sitting in my lap as I type has been my daughter for only three months. It's just not possible.

Babies are little Jedi Knights in that regard. When Xerxes was a baby I was utterly unable to fathom the notion that he did not always exist. He was so perfectly a part of the world that it seemed wholly unlikely that he was brand new to it.

It was the same with Bee. Not long before we met her, my mother-in-law said the whole notion of our having a new daughter in the house seemed as likely as a fairy story. A few months afterward, we could barely remember or imagine our lives before her.

Babies get into your head like that. How else can you explain the continued desire to cuddle up with someone who, given the opportunity, will happily poop in her own bath water?

And now we have Posey, who has moved from my lap to the kitchen floor about five feet away from me. She has pulled the box of microwave popcorn packets from the pantry shelf, and she is taking the packets out of the box one-by-one and throwing them on the floor, exclaiming with a sad, "uh-ohhhh" each time.

Uh-ohhhh. I wish I didn't have to throw these all over the floor, but I'm afraid it's just unavoidable. Better luck next time. Wait, no. Uh-ohhhh.

These past three months with her have been busy, and not just the garden variety busy that comes with growing from a family of four to a family of five. (Ready?! O!K!)

We had Christmas and houseguests and our pimped-out fake tree. We had our first snowfall. We had our first hospitalization (Posey's) and our second (mine). We had our first blizzard.

That's a lot of living to do in three months. My guess is that it has seemed even longer for the littlest Bookish, comprising, as it has, a much greater proportion of her life-so-far.

I have painted a pretty idyllic picture of life with her, but you should know that her father has nicknamed her Stitch, not only because of her penchant for mischief, but because she growls while she's at it. I will admit to calling her 626 on occasion myself.

(The nickname is particularly funny in light of the fact that the little boy who once lived next door to us called Bee "Lilo" because he sincerely believed that she was the cartoon character come to life. He wasn't far off.)

Posey climbs on everything. I turn my back to answer the phone, and she is on top of the kitchen table reaching for a glass of water or a cup of hot coffee of a box of razor blades and broken glass. Before I  have a chance to say anything, she shakes her finger at me and scolds, "Dit Down!"

If there is something she loves even more than climbing it is pressing buttons - particularly buttons on electronic devices. If I am foolish enough to leave my laptop open where she can reach it, I will inevitably return to my seat and find that all my preferences have been changed and I've sent my entire address book an email that reads, elegantly, skfjgnhbujguikzsuidcnufdgtiugherkisk.

People ask how she sleeps, and I am delighted to tell them that she sleeps perfectly well. Then I remember to add "as long as she's sleeping in bed with me."

When Bee was little, there was a phase where she would only take a nap if we let her lie on the sofa, drink a bottle and fall asleep. So that is how we got her to nap for as long as it worked. Eventually, it stopped working, and sleeping in her crib started working.

I admire parents who are always able to do things The Right Way instead of winging it with Whatever Works Today.

Right now, what works for Posey is to sleep in bed with me. She would happily sleep in bed with both her parents, but she is the only one who sleeps when we all tuck in to the queen size. So I've been sleeping with Posey in the guest room.

We've got to work this out, 626.

 

Comments

[stepblog]

"I admire parents who are always able to do things The Right Way instead of winging it with Whatever Works Today."

You mean those ones on Fantasy Island? Sounds like your version of "whatever works today" is definitely the right way for your gorgeous family o' five.

[ppb]

I love reading what you write.

[raehan]

I'm afraid doing what works IS the only right way.