Dear Fourth Child,
It's me, Mom. Truth be
told, you've been a holy terror the last few days. Perhaps your teeth
hurt, or you're testing your independence, or perhaps you've just reached your
limit. But right this minute, you are sleeping on the couch next to
me while your sisters play downstairs. And I finally have a quiet moment
to just look at you. Yes, you're having a rough couple of days, but I
want you to know that you are a very, very good boy.
It isn't always easy to be the
littlest. I know that naturally you prefer your space, but generally
you can't walk through a room without some sibling getting in your face.
I know it isn't easy getting woken up and dragged out of your cozy crib
into the cold morning air to drive your brother's carpool, or to stay up
later than you'd like to watch your sister play her basketball game.
And naps! Oh, those naps! You get them when you can. In
the car, at the table, and sometimes you just pass out on the floor. It
isn't easy spending your toddlerhood in the hallways and bleachers
of the older kids practices and lessons. I
can tell you prefer calm and quiet, but you live in constant pandemonium
and noise.
When I think about how
tranquil the older kids babyhoods were, I feel a sharp twinge of
guilt. Slow mornings, a trip to the park, so many stories read, and then
long quiet naps. So little activity, and what activity there was
mostly revolved around them. You would have loved it.
But you, little man, you're
living a different kind of life. You are the fourth, coming almost five
years after the third. We joyfully welcomed you in the midst of a very busy
season of life. At five days old, you went to your big sister's choir
concert. At a week old you're were fussing in the carpool line,
and by the time you were four weeks old you spent every morning at swim
practice and many afternoons trying to sleep through piano practices, slamming
doors, and those "Irish whispers" of your well-meaning siblings.
The other day, I was lamenting
the fact that I don't read to you half as much as I read to the other
kids, that your nap schedule is basically non-existent, and that I often
put bowls of cereal on the opposite end of the house so I can get a few
uninterrupted moments of homeschooling in with your sisters. I kept
thinking, "Poor kid, I am not giving him enough!" And then I walked into the kitchen and saw you
surrounded by your siblings. They were trying to get you to count,
but you were laughing and being coy. Finally you told them to "dop
it!" and ran out of the room. Later that day, I
heard you count, "one, two, f-wee!"
Fourth child of mine, that
small little instant reminded me that I don't have to be your only teacher
or mother or story-reader or playmate. You have a brother and two adoring
sisters that have many lessons to share with you and stories to tell you.
Even in your short life, you've learned to be flexible, patient, and
you've learned to sleep anywhere! And know that for years, those big
siblings of yours prayed hard that God would send them a baby just like you.
They are your biggest fans. And God-willing, they will be your
confidantes and friends long after Dad and I have left this world.
So, yes. Of course, you live with more chaos, but you
also live with more love.
I hope this letter will make up
for the fact that you are still wearing you pjs and you had McDonalds fries for
lunch two days in a row!
Love,
Mom
