It's that time in the Coffey household...
Time for brown bears and red birds and yellow ducks and blue horses and green frogs and purple cats and white dogs and black sheep....
Looking at us.
According to Noah, fish isn't a word. It's FLISH. Always. A goldflish. And he could say it 100 times and without fail, it makes me smile. Toddlers have a way of doing that to me. I've had a lot of toddler moments. Yet, I'm always sad when they start fading away. Noah used to call his big sister "Mally." He couldn't quite yet his mouth around the three syllables her name took and so it became a family thing. We all called her Mally. The other day, he saw his sister and called her name...."Mal-wa-wee." Jamie and I both looked at each other. He had changed. So fast. Why does it happen SO fast?
I have these moments thrown at me every now and then, and usually it's when I am wondering what the hell I was thinking having any children, let alone 7. Yeah, I admit it. There are some days I think,"oh my Lord, I can't do this. I'm failing. Drowning. Incompetent and mental." (But I have it on good authority it matters not how many children you have, just that you have them to experience this particular sense of despondence) And I'll even admit I allow myself to think, sometimes, of what life without so many walking/talking responsibilities to attend to on a daily basis, would be like. And I'm sure, absolutely sure, I've romanticized this version of my life greatly. I imagine sleeping a full 8 hours every single night would get old after awhile, and I'd probably eat way too much if I wasn't sharing half of every meal with a toddler who thinks my food is better than what's on his plate.
But still, you do wonder. Where would I be and what would I be doing? What version of myself would exist today if I had made different choices? Would I be sublimely happy? Or so lonely I'd struggle to make it through the day? Where would I filter all the abilities, talents and love I have into? Who would I be exactly?
I have to believe I'd be a pretty pathetic version of myself. Without having a reason to become better, to do better, to be better I doubt I'd like the person I'd be today. The truth is, I'm naturally selfish. I want what I want how I want it, right now. I don't like to wait, I don't like to compromise and I don't like anything out of place. But when the choice is a perfect house with children who are afraid of you or something slighty messy with smiling children, it's no brainer.
They've changed me.
They've shown me a flish really is a thing and a precious one at that. And something I'll miss when that Flish gets away. Because inevitably, they always do.