Middle Child

Oh, today.  Always a struggle to seize every moment and enjoy the precious time with small people.

Today they fought over who would get to flush my poop.  I will never be more loved.

Thank goodness, right?  It's hard to imagine that these tiny people who cling to my legs and want my attention for every.little.thing. they do or every.single.thought. that goes through their heads will one day grow up and find me annoying, stupid and embarrassing.  Can't we just have a little balance, folks?  Why must the first twenty years of life be full of pendulum-swings? 

About an hour ago, I felt so trounced upon (I was trying to change the sheets in Makenzie's crib, which, if you are a bad mommy and use a cute fluffy bumper like me, is the most difficult chore in the house. The boys were trying to climb up the mattress as I was struggling to fit the sheet around the corners, after the monumental feat of getting the thing vertical... and before the inevitable fight to shove it back into the bed)... ANYWAY, I felt so trounced upon that when Z crashed into me, I purposefully fell over and pretended to be dead. 

I'm glad I don't really die around here. 

E peeled back my eyelids, lightly slapped my cheeks and asked me no less than 17 times if I would watch him throw a frisbee in the hallway.  Still "dead."  Z chimed in after a couple minutes with, "Let me try!"  His method was taking my arm and letting me hit my own self in the face then screaming Cock-a-doo-doo-dooo!!!" as loudly as possible.  It ridiculousness had me absolutely cracking up. 

So... let's talk about my middle child today. He is hilarious, fun-loving, silly and smart.  He also is trying desperately to figure out his place in our family... and it's breaking my heart.  (Reading that back is a little Seuss-y!)  He's old enough to be capable of doing some things on his own, but little enough that he *wants* help in most of it.  (Unless I'm actually offering help, then he yells at me to go away.  Love those toddlers.)  If he leaves a toy upstairs and asks for it, I tell him to get it himself. 
I know that he really wants the toy, but he also really wants my undivided attention.  He's in constant competition for it.

I hurt for him.  I know it must be ridiculously hard to be in his shoes.

• He has an older brother who gets immediate attention from meltdowns.  They look a lot like tantrums, but E's breakdowns aren't manipulative; they happen when life has totally overwhelmed him and he doesn't have the skills or maturity to cope.  In those moments, I have to stop the world and help.  My child needs me. 
• He has a baby sister with legitimate baby needs (hello, she's 8 months old).  She gets attention when she whines hungry or needs toys or has her brother's cut out paper planets stuck in her throat.  A lot of her needs are extremely immediate, and life must be put on hold to meet them. (I'm a nursing single mom at the moment!)

Z is so smart.  (His speech therapist did a receptive language test on him two weeks ago to see how much he understood, and he worked his way through all the sets of questions that a six-year-old would answer.)  He gets life.  He watches and puts things together. I know he's noticed that crying, whining, screaming "NO! I'VE HEARD ENOUGH!" at me (what E does in the middle of a meltdown) earns his siblings my attention.  He's too little to understand that I stop the world for their need, not because of their behavior.  So, he mimics the behavior, then gets totally frustrated when I don't cater to him. 

I know he's confused.  And hurt.  And needing more attention, especially one-on-one time.  And it breaks my heart because I don't know how to give it to him.  I'm trying, but 10 minutes here and there throughout the day just aren't doing it for him. He needs his dad here.  And I can't give him that, either.

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Squirrels have always been special to me.  I love them, think they're cute, and they make me happy.  When I was in college one day, I went to the park alone (funny how I'd be terrified to do that now, but I used to do it all the time, like a naïve dummy!!), and I sat on a bench and journaled.  I was interrupted by two squirrels chasing each other, chattering, leaping from branch to branch, scurrying around humorously for at least five minutes.  When they got tired, one stopped at a branch near me, hung upside down and looked me square in the eyes.  My heart almost burst.  (My husband would be calling me ridiculous right about now.)  Looking at him the Bible verse about the birds crossed my mind. 

 

"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?"

And immediately my heart equated it to my little rodent friends.  Since then, any time I see a squirrel I feel immediately, exquisitely taken care of by my Father.

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 I normally blog with the blinds closed (it gets hot in here with the sun pouring in), but today before I started, I cleared off the table to help clear my mind, and thought "God has blessed me with these windows to our happy, private backyard.  I should look out of them while I still have the chance." (And it's cloudy right now, which is a huge bonus!) We're probably moving on post, to the land of townhomes and zero seclusion and solitude; I *must* enjoy this yard while I can!

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I just saw a squirrel eating an acorn on top of the hill in my backyard. 

I don't have any answers; my child is still frustrated and hurting and trying to find his way to be.  I'm still as stretched thin as I was 10 minutes ago, and my other children are just as demanding.  But now my heart has peace. I remember that, in spite of it all, we are exquisitely taken care of.  <3 p="">