Blinking

I love watching my children play together. Now that they're older, they can participate in activities in completely different ways. We have officially entered the engaging play phase and have left the side-by-side phase. As I write this, three of my kids are playing a board game. It's interesting to see how they interact and how they work together. It's interesting how the younger two are asking questions of the older one.

These are the moments I love. These are the moments when the sun hits everyone in the right way and I find myself feeling sad. Because five seconds ago the triplets were intubated and fighting for their lives in the NICU. Ten seconds ago Lolli was screaming at the top of her lungs while Chief was soldiering through her first bath in the hospital. Fifteen seconds ago I was that completely young faced girl sitting on a futon next to the boy I was going to marry. Where the heck did eight years go?

I remember when we lived in virtual seclusion while the trips were little. Leaving the house was such an enormous task, and they were so fragile and sick, that their pediatrician didn't want them going to church for a year (the risk of contamination...). I remember how every single one of those days was a struggle to just keep going. I was so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted that I didn't know if I was coming or going. I have lists and lists of feedings and diapers and all of the things I had to make sure got accomplished because I couldn't remember. They had so many medications they were on. They had so many medical problems. I was so angry with myself for not holding them in longer, for being so eager to give birth to them. For being so tired of being pregnant.

Back then I couldn't fathom being in a place where those four children were walking and talking and having goals and dreams. Back then I couldn't fathom a place where they would be in school, or asking to sign up for Karate or Ballet or Horse Back riding. Back then I couldn't allow myself to believe or think of comprehend anything further than the next hour. If I tried to it would overwhelm me.

I remember when it was just me and Lolli, all alone in Kansas, with Chief deployed. I remember when I was a brand new mom figuring out all of this mom stuff, and this baby stuff, completely by myself. I remember being so tired, and so scared of screwing this kid up, that I was trying to do everything perfectly. I remember the moment when I listened to some well meaning people and tried to force her to sleep in her bed. Two weeks later, I had a sort of mompiphany and finally grew my mom balls. I took my exhausted, terrified, mommy needing baby and I slept next to her. I nurtured her the way she had been used to through the whole pregnancy. It was she and me together. To try to change that dynamic at this point was ridiculous. She was eventually ready to go to her own bed. I remember the moment when I knew. It was about a month and a half later and she just gave me this look that said "I'm ready. I can sleep in my own room now." And sleep in her own room she did. Perfectly. Now this kid is sitting here across from me reading a novel (seriously) and about to turn seven. WHAT!?

That boy I met was so young. His hair was pitch black and there wasn't any lines on his face to show the passage of time. We were both so naive to what life would throw at us. We were both still innocent in regards to the tortures, scars and damages of war. We were just two kids crazy in love. We just knew we couldn't be without each other. We'd faced life apart and it sucked. So we jumped into this marriage contract. I think he needed to know that I would be legally required to be there in the morning. I had always been a bit of a flight risk. I think I still am, just in completely different ways. It takes an incredible amount of work to get me to stick around. I tend to love 'em and leave 'em. In that regard, I'm a completely stereotypical dude.

Now that boy is no longer a boy. Now I sleep next to the greatest of all men on this planet. His hair is peppered with gray and his face is filled with lines and wrinkles. We both bear the physical and mental burdens of an incredible amount of life challenges. We both have grown. We both have changed. But we're both still insanely in love with each other, and we both still can't imagine a world without each other. We both still don't function well when the other isn't around. We're both still stitched together as one.

This year will be the year of a new decade in my life. This year will be what brings about an incredible amount of change for me. This year is going to be phenomenal. I just know it. This year is going to be hard, I know that too.

I'm off to lead my four little troops in some more adventures.