Third Child

Little Miss Mae, aka the runt, has a much different life than her sisters did at her age.

With Magoo, every move she made was documented, gawked at, and worried over.  Really really worried over.

With Goosie, there was just as much documentation and just as much awe.  We remarked at the differences in our two little ones, all the time amazed that the calm, relatively introverted Magoo could possibly be the older sister of passionate (oh so very passionate) and extraverted Goosie.  And we worried.  A lot.  Things were different this time.  Are they both getting enough?  Am I being fair?  Am I sharing my attention fairly?

And then Mae came.  She sort of slid into the chaos of our life in a year that was overflowing with change and upheaval and promise and mourning.  We documented and documented some more.  We stood in awe of the little miracle we were granted.  And we worried.  But a whole helluva lot less.

Where the other two were watched and measured and stimulated and over stimulated, she got to just… be.

I remember taking her to the doctor when she was first born, and one of the first things the doctor told me was that she would have different parents than our oldest did.  We won’t be able to give her every ounce of our attention at every second of the day.  She will be part of our family, not the sole focus of our existence.

And I don’t think I believed him.  I never tend to believe or accept advice that is rational or true.  Instead I hit my head against the wall hoping for an ideal that is unattainable.

But in this case, I’m starting to think the realistic is the ideal.

With Goosie, I did every single feeding every.single.day.  Because she wouldn’t have it any other way.  I did all of her comforting.  I did all of her everything.  Because she demanded it.  With Magoo, TJ and I spent our every available moment staring at her, video recording her, prompting her towards newer and newer milestones.  Her infancy was examined under the microscope of two utterly adoring parents.

With Mae, she has two totally adoring parents, and two totally adoring siblings.  For the first six months, I was the only one who fed her, but now so do her sisters and her father.  (One of Goosie’s favorite words is “gipt-her” which is her one word interpretation of the phrase “give [the bottle] to her.”)  When she’s crying, I will go pick her up or one of her sisters will lovingly stroke her head and say, “It’s all right, baby.”  When she’s on the floor, I do my best to play with her, and when I can’t, she has two sisters about a quarter of an inch from her face trying to make her laugh.

I look at the milestones, and I make sure she’s on track.  But I’m not always prodding her towards the next one.  Partly because I don’t have the time to do that every second but also because, to be honest, I’m not in a hurry to reach those milestones.  I give her every opportunity to reach them, I give her the appropriate environments and tools, but if she doesn’t feel like crawling until next month, that’s kinda super cool to me because it means she stays small just a little bit longer.

She’s my Mae, and she has very different parents than Magoo did.  We’re experienced.  A bit rougher around the edges.  A bit more laid back.  A lot more frazzled.  But we care and love every bit as much.

And I think that’s how life evens itself out.  Magoo has advantages and Goosie has advantages and Mae has advantages.  All different.  And they will all help make them into the people that they are destined to become.

It’s complicated, this whole parenting thing.  You want to give so much to your kids and be fair to all of them, but as I’m often reminded, fair isn’t always the same as equal.

So yes, while I get excited (and yes a bit sad) watching Magoo get to meet each new milestone and take us into each new phase of parenthood, and I get to see Goosie traveling behind teaching us new ways to do the old things, I’m going to relish sitting back with Mae and watching.  Enjoying her for the little person she is becoming.  Because for right now, she’s my baby.  And I don’t want to miss a single opportunity to baby her as much as her little heart desires.