Letting Go

In a few days, Meghan will be 1 month old.  Here comes the old cliché…I can’t believe how fast it has gone.  I also can’t believe how relatively smoothly things have gone either.  Meg is our third.  With the past two kids, it has always been complete mental chaos and total physical exhaustion during the newborn phase.

This time around, we’re still exhausted, but we’re staying positive and having a bit of fun.

Attempting to send a cute picture of Meghan to a friend, foiled by Luke's eyeball.  I sent it anyways.

Attempting to send a cute picture of Meghan to a friend, foiled by Luke’s eyeball. I sent it anyways.

There’s this article that says three kids is the most stressful number, but mothers of four are actually more relaxed.  They’re more relaxed because they’ve “let go”.  I read this when I was 8 months pregnant, and thought, “this doesn’t sound good.”  I imagined complete pandemonium with three.  We would be outnumbered, sleep-deprived and grumpy.

I shouldn’t have worried.  We’re so far gone here, I should get an award.

The kids have been doing the laundry, vacuuming, emptying the dishwasher and in general taking care of themselves, as I recover from my C-section.  The house is an admitted wreck, but I’ve let go.  I’m okay with it.  I sit down with a hot cup of coffee every morning.  I actually drink it right away, instead of letting it get cold as I assist the kids with whatever harebrained idea they’re hatching.  Drinking coffee while it’s still hot is a wonderful luxury.

This morning, Luke told me that during garbage collection, a bit of cardboard and an egg carton had blown into our yard, and I should go get it.  I gave him the unsupportive answer, “No way.”  Later, my friend came by to pick up Luke for preschool.  I was with the baby when they left, but happened to glance out the window and saw my friend scurrying across our backyard to gather the errant egg carton, Luke trailing behind with the bit of cardboard.  What an awesome friend.  This must be the pinnacle of letting go, I thought, when my friend is picking up my neighbor’s trash in my yard on a frigid, windy day, and I don’t even feel mortified about it.

I attempted some cute photos of the kids earlier in the week, hoping that one would turn out for birth announcements.  Have you ever tried to get 3 kids to look at the camera at the same time, let alone smile simultaneously?  It didn’t go well.  Getting them all dressed started right off to be a disaster.  The only matching outfits we had consisted of white t-shirts and a white onesie.

Luke protested immediately, “Mom!!!  I can’t wear this!”

“Put it on.”

“It has blood on it.  Look!!”  Sure enough, some sort of chocolate-colored stain was on the shirt.  I grabbed another, and ordered the boys to undress/redress.

The minute they took off their long-sleeve shirts, we hit another snag.  The boys had massive tattoos on each arm.  I tried removing them, but they must’ve been fresh.  No luck.  I gave up.

“Just keep your arms out of the picture.”

We snapped a bunch of pictures and I was certain that they were all hideous.  The kids had to contort in weird positions just to keep their Tigger and Iron Man tattooed arms out of sight.  I gave up, thanked the kids for trying and gave them each 6 gummy bears in compensation for me barking confusing orders at them.

Amazingly enough, I found one that was not a complete disaster.  One and a half kids are smiling, and Meg isn’t grimacing, just frowning a smidge.


I guess letting go doesn’t always look so bad.


About pokedpotato

Cheese lover.
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2 Responses to Letting Go

  1. Megan says:

    The picture is absolutely amazing!! You are such a wonderful mommy. They are all 3 lucky to have you! Miss you so much, friend!

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