The Baby turned 3 earlier this month. I guess I should call her something else in this blog... but trust me... she really is The Baby in our family. This weekend S was looking at a scrapbook I made when I was pregnant with her. The final pages of the book are photos of my home birth and then the transfer to the hospital. Also included are some of the actual items from that day.
When she closed the book, she looked up at me with tears streaming down her face and said, "You went through so much so that I could have kids."
That was more gratitude... more recognition... in one sentence... than I had ever gotten from my husband in 12 years of marriage.
The Baby had a viral infection on Friday that caused her to have tremendous amounts of diarrhea. I called S on her phone when she was on her way home from the office, she brought home diapers, popsicles, vitamin water...
When The Baby needed to be held that night because she was sick and I had to finish an assignment, S put her in a Mei Tai and attempted to make tacos.
When The Baby needed to sleep with us, S made room.
When The Baby started to puke at 3 am, S got a towel.
The next morning my Karate Kid had a tournament she absolutely could not miss. In Karate Kid's opinion she cannot miss any tournament. S took her so I could stay home with the Lysol.
Karate Kid has been working very hard for months on her Kata, attempting to be promoted to blue belt. I missed it! The promotion of the year! But S was there. I guess my Kid told S that she felt sorry for another boy because neither of his parents ever show up, but she was really happy that S was there. I asked S if she felt like a parent yet.
She said, "Yes. I'm exhausted."
And that was only Saturday afternoon . . .