I Worry.

I have 5 kids. Yes like 1,2,3,4,5, like an entire hand, a quintuple, cinque, FIVE! And yes I do know what causes that. Love. Wonderment. Joy. Celebration of life. I love my kids and would in a heartbeat have more if circumstances were right. I enjoyed being pregnant, watching my body swell with the yet unknown being inside. Feeling their little jabs and pokes at the outside world, as if to announce, Hello out there, do you see me? Hearing the steady whoosh whoosh of their little heartbeat at each doctors visit, an affirmation of their reality. The act of giving birth was amazing. That first peek at the person you and your husband have created and been trusted to raise by a power much greater than yourselves. The little whiff of heaven all babies have at birth. Their soft heads, their sweet breath, the cherubic layers of fat and delicacy of their bodies. The absolute wonder of all they know-to close their eyes, take in breaths, root for food. It was miraculous to see my babies fatten up at my breast, see them grow and learn and become more independent. Sitting up, Crawling, their first foods, first steps, first words. That bittersweet moment when your baby realizes there are other people in the world and moves away from you more and more each day, farther away from the protective environment you have provided for them to grow in.
They aren't babies anymore. It is a necessary step, even honorable, the letting go of your child and entrusting them to the world. The being there when a swing lets them fall, when a knee is scuffed, a friend is mean, a heart is hurt. The restraint demonstrated when I do not swoop in to clear all the hornets from the nests my children encounter. That I walk away from them at school and expose them to all sorts of lessons in life. The fact that they may try out for a group and not make it. That they may take a test and not excel. That they may get hurt and not get a hug and kiss to make it all better. That some kids may make fun of their hair, clothes, or athletic prowess. And some teachers may not see them for the extraordinary beings they are. It breaks my heart each time one of them is hurt, but I need to be brave, shrug and say well lets accept this as a bump in the road God has laid for your life.
Their next firsts . . . middle school, dating, dances, breaking up, friends moving away, family drifting apart, driving, college. . . strike fear deep in my bones. Are they ready? Is the foundation we have laid for them so far strong enough to resist the temptations ahead? drugs? sex? booze? Will they be proud of their intelligence and not afraid to excel in honors courses or will they fall to a group of underachievers and slack their way through school? Are they confident in the abilities and able to be who they are whether it is cool to be in a band or sing or wrestle or read? Can they withstand the loss of loved ones-first boy/girlfriends-aunts and uncles as they move away-friends? Do they have the inner strength to move beyond a disappointment to the lesson it seeks to teach? Will they still laugh at the silly jokes their Dad makes. Might they still smile at me in that special way that lets me know they are happy to be with me? Can we still dance in our underpants? Not take ourselves too seriously, let loose and have fun? Do they outgrow the desire to hang out with one another? Is it a move from us being a boisterous family of 7 to a group of people who live together and speak seldom? How soon until their homework is too hard for me to help with? How soon until they are embarrassed by our lack of funds? Will they ever realize the abundance of love that exists for them in my heart, in our home? Am I one of the lucky ones who remains close to her children through the teen years? How can I assure I am the one they come to with questions about birth control? How do I assure that I am open to answering their questions and continuing a home that is open and honest and a place they like to be?
For now I have one at home. One left to go nap with. One left to swing high and read loud. One left who is so beside herself to be like her older siblings she is moving away faster than I care to think. For now I am going to go laugh with her. And later we will get those siblings she so aspires to be like. We will practice the trumpet, read the stories, work the math problems. We will talk about school, about our friends, about what we ate for lunch. For now I will enjoy every frustrating, fulfilling, ordinary moment I have. For what the future holds, I will worry.

dinosaurs

**Boom**Bang**Hop***Skitter**Jump**Twitter**Giggle**Whisper**Run**Click**Thump***

It's like spring when the morning is all silent, the sun has not yet risen, the creatures are all asleep. But wait, you start to hear the chirping of birds, the skittering of squirrels, a bark of the neighbors dog. The sound gradually increases in volume as the day awakes. It's like this at my home. A light switch clicks. A girl giggles. A little boy speeds from one side of the house to the other, just because he can. Cupboard doors squeak as they are opened, thwack as they are carelessly shut. Water trickles from the faucet. There is the fight for the toilet, yes just one. Toilet. Not fight. I lay in my bed and listen to the kids at their most natural.

SIGH. pause. SIGH!(just a hair louder) pause. SIGH!!!
"What's wrong?" finally a bite form his big sister.
"I just wish dinosaurs were real. "Sigh.
(Here I can picture his little head hanging down, his little lips puckered out in a perfect pout.)
"But they are real. . ."(his face must brighten)". . . They are just Instinct." she says with the utter confidence of a 7 year old girl.
"Instinct??? What's that mean?"
OK now my little girls is standing a little taller, her chest out a little more, her head held a little higher, on her face that slight tilt and eye roll that says-I can't believe you don't know this.
"It means that they all died."
Now this draws in the other sister to help.
"No it doesn't instinct means that dogs know to pick their leg up so they don't pee on themselves. "
OK, now I am wide awake and trying not to disturb them with my laughter. Apparently my oldest has heard and needs to put his two cents in as well. But they girls have broken off into their little "Nu-Uh" "Uh-Huh" routine so he has to speak louder to get his point across.
"Dinosaurs are EX-tinct. "
"What's ex-tinct mean?" asks my big sigher.
"Nu-Uh" "Uh-Huh" "Nu-Uh" "Uh-Huh"
"It means that they all died." He is probably carrying on this conversation while playing his DS.
"Nu-Uh" "Uh-Huh" "Nu-Uh" "Uh-Huh"
"Then whats instinct mean?" he asks.
"It means that dogs know to pick up their leg so they don't pee on themselves."
I can't help it a laugh out loud. The room gets quiet.
Sigh. pause. Nintendo getting put quietly down. SIGH! the girls furiously whispering "uh huh" "nu-uhh" SIGH!!
"Whats wrong Korbin?!" this from all 3 kids.
"I just wish dinosaurs were real."

Taking Time

My oldest daughter was going to heritage school and needed to have a period packed lunch. I was wrapping jerky and dried apples in handkerchiefs and placing in an old coffee can.
"But why can't my sleeves be short"
"I don't like these socks"
"I put my jacket right on the floor"
"Do you know where my spider man shoes are"
"DORA!LOOK IT"S DORA"
This is the music of my morning. After dodging parents in the parking lot too egocentric to realize the yellow lines are for parking between and fighting my way back to the street like a salmon swimming up river, the big girl and I arrive home for showers breakfast and a costume change(read out of pajama's into a bra!) Balancing both checkbooks I wonder how good are the chances of hitting the power ball. Big girl and I go back to our van and are off to do our errands.
"Can you PLEASE hold my hand"
"THIS is a parking lot-cars don't look for little girls"
"Don't run"
"WAIT for ME"
numerous eye rolls to the heaven for strength and a few pulled hairs later we get to her sanctuary-the library. Unfortunately a quick trip, I still need to do Wal-Mart for dinner. The very nice librarian bends down to visit with Big Girl. . .
"Do you like Dora? We have new Dora books in, you can have one for each day of the week"
She hands 7 books to Big Girl who will not put them down to save a life. Thanks nice Librarian. . .you must know our late fees pay your salary. Oh Well not in the mood for a fit. . .We get them all. I find my new books and we go back to the van.
"I do it. "
I don't have the time to wait so I do it and she screams. I hand her the balm at hand. . .a Dora book. While she is occupied with Boots and Swiper I go to the drop box and return 6 of the books I just checked out. Nice try Miss Librarian but you won't suck those fees from me.
Onto the retail wasteland-Wal-Mart. Damn them for their convenience and prices. . . Devil Incarnate I have no choice. Rushing through the lot sniping my usual threats and warnings, my mind drifting to the 3000 loads of laundry to do(only a slight exaggeration) I become anxious to finish this chore and head home for lunch and naps. We dodge the Dora toothpaste, avoid the wall of babies, start down the dark aisle of Halloween candy and do a 360 right there at the end cap to see Dora soup. Fine it's only a dollar and will make lunch a breeze. Finally done we go to check out me pulling her oohing and ahhing along. Me frustrated and antsy. Her in awe of all around her. She stops dead in her tracks. Immobile. Like a cement post. What NOW. I just want to get the bags to the car and get her down for nap so I can do something productive. I look down irritation emanating from me like the Pepe le Peu wisps of stench.
"MMM pretty"
Her face is buried in bright yellow mums, her eyes closed in bliss, her nose inches from the potted dirt. She is so relaxed, so happy, so carefree. I stop. I put down my bags. I stoop to my knees and bury my face next to hers.
"MMM your right"
Triumphant Big Girls drags me on the the next pot. We smell this too. She has the joy, the exuberance only a child can achieve. And for those few moments at Wal-Mart shares with me. We stop and smell the roses. Or mums. Every last one of them.