I’m sure there is spit up in my hair. There is definitely spit up on the couch and on the game that George Wilder and Amelia left on the floor. There is more on my pillow and some on my shirt. I’ve sat down for the first time in a week, unless sleeping sitting up, which doesn’t count, or nursing. Meals are speed races. So is the cleaning up, cooking, laundry, and showering if showing occurs. I’ve burnt food several times and soured the laundry.
Amelia and George Wilder now pick out their own outfits. George Wilder lives is costumes, Amelia, in some assortment of stripes or pinks or blues. I’m not sure we’ve brushed hair in the month of December. Teeth? Yes, but not with accurate supervision. They have also learned how to unload and stack the dishwasher, sort the laundry, fold the clean clothes, and read books by themselves even if they don’t know the words. They need me less. It breaks me. I’m lonely. They need me right? Not as much as I thought. I’m lonely without them right with me, right in the middle of another adventure.
Adventures are different. They are in the yard, in a closet, or under a bed. They are not at the park or in the woods. They can play for hours with a balloon, a string, a box. They’ve figured out play without me. I want to play!
Sweet William August is here. He is precious. He is beautiful. He is quite big. Life changed instantly. The eating, sleeping, pooping routine is in full swing. I love it. I love this little man. He is fully William. He is full. His cheeks are full, he belly, his hands, his mind. He stares at quilts and colors and eyes and nose. He takes it in. He is already soaking in this world like Amelia and George Wilder. I love it. I can’t wait to see how he becomes a part of their little team.
Christmas was slow and quiet. We didn’t go very far for much of anything. We made ginger bread cookies that were a bit doughy. We tried to string pop corn and cranberries but the pop corn kept breaking and we didn’t get very far. George, however, was quite successful in the wreath department. He and Amelia sat by the rosemary bush and made wreath after wreath. They are beautiful and perfectly Christmas.
George found some fun adventures with the children. Amelia picked out eight new chickens and turned our oldest, Tess, into her personal pet. They went deer hunting one morning and spotted a lot of birds and sang Christmas carols in the deer stand while wrapped in a bright red polka dotted blanket. George Wilder wanted to take Amelia on a feather hunt for Christmas, so they visited the park where the ducks live and returned with a multitude of feathers to add to Amelia’s collection.
While George and the children work in the yard or take off for groceries or other exotic outings, I’m here. It is quiet. I dance to Patty Griffin with William. We visit each room in between naps and nursing. We make big O’s with our lips and talk about the animals or sing songs about the sunshine or the birds. I’ve relearned how to clean up a room using my toes.
This new world is overflowing with new life. This new life slows us down, makes us laugh. The children are mesmerized by stinky diapers and spit up. They love to hold William and George Wilder strokes his red hair. After a few minutes, they are off again. I do feel left behind. I do feel lonely at 11 a.m.. George will send me out to find a moment of “me” and I’m gone for an hour and start to feel the tug to return to William. I rush home to find him happily sleeping or resting on George.
The wait is over. The wait for this life to be with us is finally over. William is with us and we are five. We are a different family in the blink of an eye (Well actually a 19 hour labor).
I love this new family, but I must admit, I grieve for an afternoon to play with Amelia and George Wilder or stay up late reading or writing. But this is a season. William is little for only a moment. In a flash, we will be riding bikes or climbing a mountain or playing music.
That is life with five.
Sweet William is here