It’s a “holiday” weekend here. We have extra kids in and out, overnight, and just popping in. It is really fun and awesome.
I have made bacon, pancakes, and egg for breakfast. It’s cleaned up minus the few extra pancakes I will vacuum seal for when I am feeling lazy and the kids can pop them in the toaster. The dogs have been in and out a dozen times and I have asked the first round to return home to pack things up. My two morning texts have been sent.
As I filled my coffee cup for the third time already I listened to a sweet conversation.
My Daughter: Sawyer [her brother], want to play a game with witches and gremlins and trolls and wizards?
Friend: There is even a wizard hat.
Sawyer: There’s a wizard hat?
I chuckled to myself. There is even a wizard hat. Did he not realize we have had a wizard hat for years? Was he surprised his sister and his friend would let him wear the wizard hat? Assuming they were actually going to let him… Whatever it was, I laughed.
Then it hit me.
My youngest child, the one who offered the invitation, is 8 years old and a few months.
When I was 8 years old and only a month more than her, I was welcoming my youngest sister who I affectionately called “whatchamacallit.” She was the first child from my mother’s second marriage. I did not like my new dad and I did not like this creature who came along, too. I also did not like that I was warming formula and fixing bottles and changing cloth diapers and as my mom returned to work I was also waking at night to feed the baby and change her. I was 8 years old. I did not even turn 9 until the end of the year. I was mad as hell. I should not have to be a mom to 3 other kids, much less a baby at age 8. And I knew it. I was mad mad mad mad.
Honestly, I don’t even care about all that now. I know now that the care I learned for whatchamacallit and later LD (I promise it is not as horrible as it sounds), was only preparation for the full house I have today. I know that and I am fine with that.
And I am very, very, sincerely with all of my being grateful that my 8 year olds did not have that responsibility to own. They only need to be concerned about who will wear the wizard hat. And Sawyer did.
PS: I love my sister Michelle. I love who she is and who she has become. And I love my brother, Little David. He is kind and loving, too. I also love my Dad. He was 30 and married a woman with 3 kids and one on the way. And lots of issues. There was no way he could have known what was coming. I love Momma, too. And so no one feels slighted…my other siblings are loved as well.