We just went on vacation to visit family several states away.
It was exhausting. OK, this is hardly news, that traveling with babies is tiring. But I started feeling blue, because...
I didn't spend much time focusing on the people I was visiting. In particular, I started one conversation with Jonathan that wasn't in passing, and that one was promptly interrupted by Charles crying. Didn't spend that much time talking with others, either. Maybe an hour and a half with my aunt and uncle. Not much with Mandy. We spent our time taking care of babies. This, too, shall pass -- but I don't want our family relationships to also pass, based on my increasing focus on my own house, which seems to likely, given the distances. Waah.
I also recognized that these moments with Charles and Liam will not last forever. And I can't treasure every moment: as Marisa pointed out, that's something parents say after their babies are no longer crying every waking hour. That's not much of an exaggeration for Charles last week. (Colic, and it's better now.) I defy anyone to enjoy hearing a baby scream. Anyone who doesn't need serious therapy, anyway.
But those other moments... I have to focus on other things, too, like, oh, working for a living. So I miss some. And I miss others from other obligations. And I will forget the ones I experience. I can't remember a year later, sometimes, whether I went to a party or what someone important to me said; of course I'll forget baby smiles, or when Charles or Liam first did this or that milestone.
And that's very sad.
I intend to make more video. But I may not realize that intention. When the camera comes out, Liam stops what he's doing to stare at the camera. And we don't have a lot of beach pictures; I would rather play with Liam in the waves than stand back, refuse to pick him up, and get pictures of him feeling frustrated and scared because Poppa won't take care of him. Of course.
And I don't always give him my full attention when I can. I think of it. I realize he is more important. Then he comes up, clingy, interrupting what I'm doing, and I turn away to finish it. It's easier to say, "In a minute," than to remember that I could instead say "In a minute" to whatever stupid thing I was doing.
And (I told you I was feeling blue) one day I will die. Then the hanging out will be over. (I find nothing in the Bible to suggest that in the afterlife we get to hang with our buds. We have "many mansions" and a new Jerusalem and be with our Savior, but regarding earthly spouses we shall be "like the angels" instead of married, and I can't find any mention of meeting up with old friends or family, however close.)
Best I can think of now is to make those videos, somehow, and watch them again with Liam and Charles when they're older, to relive a memory I still have with the person the memory is about; the time won't be gone, then, and each boy can get that he was and is loved.
It was exhausting. OK, this is hardly news, that traveling with babies is tiring. But I started feeling blue, because...
I didn't spend much time focusing on the people I was visiting. In particular, I started one conversation with Jonathan that wasn't in passing, and that one was promptly interrupted by Charles crying. Didn't spend that much time talking with others, either. Maybe an hour and a half with my aunt and uncle. Not much with Mandy. We spent our time taking care of babies. This, too, shall pass -- but I don't want our family relationships to also pass, based on my increasing focus on my own house, which seems to likely, given the distances. Waah.
I also recognized that these moments with Charles and Liam will not last forever. And I can't treasure every moment: as Marisa pointed out, that's something parents say after their babies are no longer crying every waking hour. That's not much of an exaggeration for Charles last week. (Colic, and it's better now.) I defy anyone to enjoy hearing a baby scream. Anyone who doesn't need serious therapy, anyway.
But those other moments... I have to focus on other things, too, like, oh, working for a living. So I miss some. And I miss others from other obligations. And I will forget the ones I experience. I can't remember a year later, sometimes, whether I went to a party or what someone important to me said; of course I'll forget baby smiles, or when Charles or Liam first did this or that milestone.
And that's very sad.
I intend to make more video. But I may not realize that intention. When the camera comes out, Liam stops what he's doing to stare at the camera. And we don't have a lot of beach pictures; I would rather play with Liam in the waves than stand back, refuse to pick him up, and get pictures of him feeling frustrated and scared because Poppa won't take care of him. Of course.
And I don't always give him my full attention when I can. I think of it. I realize he is more important. Then he comes up, clingy, interrupting what I'm doing, and I turn away to finish it. It's easier to say, "In a minute," than to remember that I could instead say "In a minute" to whatever stupid thing I was doing.
And (I told you I was feeling blue) one day I will die. Then the hanging out will be over. (I find nothing in the Bible to suggest that in the afterlife we get to hang with our buds. We have "many mansions" and a new Jerusalem and be with our Savior, but regarding earthly spouses we shall be "like the angels" instead of married, and I can't find any mention of meeting up with old friends or family, however close.)
Best I can think of now is to make those videos, somehow, and watch them again with Liam and Charles when they're older, to relive a memory I still have with the person the memory is about; the time won't be gone, then, and each boy can get that he was and is loved.