Tag Archives: comparison

Tapping out

This picture most accurately illustrates my children's personalities: Ornery, and completely insane.
This picture most accurately illustrates my childrens’ personalities: Ornery, and completely insane.

I’m currently the stage in life where many of my married friends are on to baby number three. Four, if they’re over achievers. I came from a family of three children, so did Erron, and going into marriage I always thought I’d have a family of five. I also thought comprise couldn’t be that hard, which shows just how much I knew going into all of this. Anyway, Shep is almost four and half and Charlotte is two, so if we intend to keep up the two year baby trend, we are already behind schedule.

Once Shep was sleeping through the night I was basically ready for the next one. It wasn’t really a question of if we would have another child; just a matter of timing. Thankfully, once Erron finally decided to board the baby train, sweet-talking him into next one was no big deal. He was as obsessed with being a parent as I was, so 26 months after Shep arrived, we got sweet and sassy Char.

Flash forward to present day, in the lobby of the physical therapy room: Shep’s therapist is giving me the run down of how the sessions went and I kid you not, both my kids are rolling around on the floor. Just, rolllllling around, like they thought the place was one giant grassy knoll. I half-heartedly tried to get them to stop, but every time I reached down for them, they’d just roll in the opposite direction. It was nap-time for Char, Shep had been in therapy for roughly 2 hours and they. were. done. So was I. I’m standing there, focusing on his sweet therapist’s face, trying really hard to listen to her words…but the tiny bodies that keep landing themselves on her feet are distracting me. It’s like this every Tuesday. But yesterday, in the back of my mind I heard the warning bells (which have been ringing for months now) kick it up another notch: I have hit max capacity. It’s not that kids can’t have seasons like this, mine are two and four, and we reside in Crazy Town a good portion of the time. It’s just that yesterday I realized I’m not ready to voluntarily take up permanent residence there for the sake of keeping up with my life plan or the Jones’s. I’m officially tapping out.

Zoo

Maybe it’s the fact that ‘spirited’ is an adjective I’d use to describe both children. Or, it could be because Shep literally talks every minute of every day and Charlotte’s still not a great sleeper. Maybe it’s all we’ve been through in the last year. Whatever the reasons, I know it’s time to quit pretending baby number 3 is even up for current consideration and start waving the white flag. The jig is up.

While I’ve been able to admit out loud to friends that I’m content with our little family unit, I feel guilty every time I say it. Being a parent is such a blessing and the responsibility it carries is a big deal. Especially if you subscribe to the philosophy that you’re trying to raise up men and women who will go out into their worlds and change it for the better. I look at moms of three or four and sometimes feel like I just can’t cut it. God only knows what kind of kids I’d be sending out into the public if I keep adding more ‘arrows to my quiver’,  as they say. After talking over a tough day with another mom, I’ll pause and wonder if she’s thinking, “Allie, it can’t be that bad… you only have two of them!” What is that? For starters, Shep and Char may only equal two bodies, but factor in their giant personalities and the party just got a whole lot bigger. Secondly, what does it matter if my Crazy Town looks different than my friend’s Crazy Town? CRAZY IS STILL CRAZY when you’re living there, regardless of the population. So I’m not the mom who can embrace an enormous level of everyday chaos. I need my one-on-one time. This is what works for us as parents, and it works for my kids, so I just need to own it. I’m owning it: Max capacity people. Now, Erron and I are never-say-never kind of parents, so ask us again in several years and our hearts may have shifted. But we’ve jumped off the two, even three or four year baby track, and at this point I’m doubtful we’ll be buying any more tickets. My heart will always melt every time I see an Instagram photo framing a precious bunch of little siblings, all close in age, and watching Char slip out of the baby phase can slay me in a hot minute. HOWEVER, we are overflowing with love and entertainment at the Weig house. Also, last night, Shep snuck into our room at 2:00 AM, and I woke up in Charlotte’s bed so…I can still pretend we have newborns without trying too hard.

Party of 4

The waiting room

Shep writingEvery Tuesday Shep-man goes to physical therapy for a mild gross motor delay. It’s subtle, you probably wouldn’t notice it unless you were a professional, or his momma. He’s stronger on one side of his body than the other, and he’s been this way since he was a baby. Lots of preemies have similar issues; Shep went to PT off an on in Dallas for at least a year and a half. After the pool accident, getting Shep back in physical therapy was one of the first things I did. His body was weak from being in bed for so long, and doctors told me if Shep had any damage from his injury it may show up as a physical delay first.  I figured I’d rather meet any possible delays head on rather then wait for them to surface. A few weeks ago we added in occupational therapy since he recently tested behind in some fine motor skills….we’re cramming as much in as we can to give him a leg up before he starts Pre-K and while it’s still fun. (Shep only knows that he’s going to play with his friend Robin.)

Showing up at the OKC waiting room for outpatient therapy is one of my favorite things I do with Shep and tag-along Charlotte.  I mean, it’s not super fun to wait around with crazy Charlotte, but as a parent, I like going to PT because it’s anyone’s guess who you will see in the waiting room. We see a lot of people, all ages, all backgrounds, all needing therapy of some sort, like us. Speech, physical, occupational. We meet older patients who are re-habbing a knee and other preemie kids, doing therapy for similar reasons we are. We meet children with autism, children in wheelchairs, people with walkers, or one leg. Since Shep and Char aren’t in real school yet, we don’t have a ton of exposure to these kinds of things, and time in the waiting room is good for all three of us.

If you have an enormously outgoing little boy, the waiting room is a crash course in handling the occasional awkward question or conversation started by said four-year old. I love that Shep gets to meet people who may initially not look or act just like he does.  Some of the people we see in the waiting room are friendly,  we know them by name, conversations come easily. Some less so.  As Shep’s mom, I gain experience facilitating questions by Shep if he happens to point out anything about anybody that he finds question-worthy. For example, after receiving a complement on his blond hair, Shep reciprocated by asking the older woman why her hair was white. Another time, he told a teenage boy just how much he liked his higher voice, when I’m 90% sure the boy was going to speech therapy for that exact reason. Shep has learned when he talks to a child that looks his age, the child may not be able to respond in the same way. My favorite was when Shepherd shared a time slot with a boy in a wheel chair and a trachea tube. This little guy couldn’t talk much on his own, and his limbs appeared shorter than they needed to be for walking.  But he was always happy and outgoing and so were the people who helped him get around. The first time Shep saw him, he had lots of questions. If I’m honest I got nervous when I first saw who we were sharing a waiting room with. I knew Shep would blast me with questions and I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to field them all. But they were innocent enough, and I answered them as best I could. We saw the same boy a few visits ago, we all walked in the building together. Shepherd greeted him by name, and this time only noticed the boy’s socks. They had Cars characters on them. Shep liked them, told the boy so, and then repeatedly reminded me how he had the same kind of socks as his waiting room friend which he thought was pretty cool. Shep is noticing differences less and less the more he visits the waiting room. I like that.

Small talk with the parents is my favorite part. Like me, they are there every week, watching the progress of their own little people.  It reminds me that I’m lucky to be dealing with a mild motor skill delay. Most of these parents have a much tougher road to walk than I do, and they walk it every day. It’s humbling, and I rarely leave without feeling grateful.

I wish every kid and their parents got a chance to spend an hour or two in the Jim Thorpe waiting room. I think it’s been as good for me as it has for little man. If we get to a point where we can stop doing PT and OT,  I’ll be pumped Shep has reached his goals…  but I’ll kind of miss the waiting room.