Are You Done?

There are natural conversation-starters in this world. Children are one of them. From the time you become pregnant with your first child, you learn that you've just opened the door to innumerable conversations with perfect strangers about the subject of having kids. Some of it is helpful and, of course, some of it is idiotic. One conversation topic that keeps coming up for us is, "Are you done [with having kids]?'

Truthfully, I didn't mind the first ten times I was asked the question. I still don't really mind if the person asking is a friend or relative who's genuinely interested in the affairs of our family. But after a year or so (people have been asking us this since I was pregnant with our second child), it does start to feel a little suspicious. I don't know- if you'd started making beautiful cakes for a living and after each cake was complete, people asked you if you were finally done making cakes, you'd start to wonder if there was a hidden point to the question, wouldn't you?

For what it's worth, as much as it is up to us to decide (we recognize that sometimes God has surprises in store), we are done. Not because, as most people are ready to believe, we are overwhelmed- that three is an unmanageable number and we're somehow in over our heads and we need to quit. As I mentioned before, having three kids hasn't really been that difficult. I love each one of our kids and I will genuinely miss having a baby in our house. But it really feels as if a switch has been turned off in my mind and it's something I just don't deeply desire anymore. There's a lot less hand-wringing and nail-biting than I'd imagined in the decision not to have more kids. I'm pretty much at peace with the idea.

As Liam grew older, we struggled a lot with the decision to keep having kids or stay with two, but I felt like there was someone around that I couldn't see. It felt like someone was missing and that I was always forgetting someone when I was loading up the car or tucking kids into bed. Soon I became pregnant and I found I was actually excited about the idea of having another baby. I calculated their birth date. I thought a little bit about names. I wondered if they'd have the same birthday as Diana (they were due November 2013). I wasn't able to do all of that for long, because one day I started bleeding very heavily and felt sick with heavy heavy cramps that kept me in bed all day. I had a miscarriage. It was very early on. I probably wasn't more than five or six weeks along. But I'd been able to make plans around this little person and suddenly they weren't with us anymore. We hadn't even really gotten to know them. The excitement I felt upon learning we were expecting and the confusing depression and disappointment when I miscarried made me realize I still wanted to have more children. Thankfully, two months later God gave us our Matthew.

Now our family just feels complete. I don't look around anymore with the feeling that I'm forgetting someone unseen. Of course we'd be happy if we had another child, but it's not really in our plans.

That doesn't mean that it's easy in any way to watch our kids grow up. I'm trying to savor Matthew's baby-hood as much as humanly possible. He's almost eight months old and still not interested in solid foods, and truthfully I don't really care. Breastfeeding is still one of the most wonderful things in the world to me. Every developmental milestone is just a little bittersweet because I know it's another step toward being a toddler running around with his brother and sister. He's already too wiggly to sit in my arms for snuggles. My husband has been incredibly patient with my tendency to, within the bounds of law and order in our house, indulge him as the last baby a bit. Still, it's a little difficult. We started having kids before all our friends and now after a whirlwind four years, our baby-having days are done while they're still growing their families. I think we decided we were done before most of our family members too. So while I was able to go through the journey of pregnancy and having kids with a large community of people (especially during my last two pregnancies), I don't know anyone who's reached the end of that road yet. It's a little lonely. There are no other moms to talk to about the slight sadness of giving away baby clothes you'll never use anymore, or disassembling fixtures like the bouncer or baby swing. We have many wonderful years ahead of us with our three goofy kids, but there are no new additions to look forward to, just our kids growing up. Excuse me for a moment-

I'm better now. One wonderful thing about being part of a community of growing families is that there will never ever be a shortage of babies around! I know of three that were born in the last two months. Because of colds going around our house, I've only gotten to cuddle one of them, but there's always more time for that and I know of even more on the way in coming months. I've always enjoyed babies without being baby-crazy, but I may just end up turning into the aunt that won't put down her nieces/nephews/any other babies people will allow her to hold. (Fair warning, relatives! Hide yo' kids!)

How did you know when your family was complete? Or how do you handle people asking about it?

Comedy Hour: The Relatives

I try not to write about things too soon after they occur. Time creates a nice distance that allows me to view events in a more emotionally detached way, which can be very useful. But this just needs to be shared because I think it's something that all parents have experienced.

We're in Hawaii on the island of Oahu. It's beautiful. It's idyllic. It's basically like wandering around through a slightly crowded tropical paradise.

Paradise is full of scenes like this

We've been able to meet up with friends like one of my past swim coaches and we're staying with Joseph's aunt and her family. Absolutely beautiful people. They couldn't be more wonderful and welcoming than if they were actually my blood relatives. I love staying with them. While we were here, we got the opportunity to see some of Joseph's uncles, whom he hadn't seen in decades. We first met them without the kids- Joseph's aunt watched them while we went out to dinner and had a lovely adult conversation. It was especially interesting because it turns out Joseph and his youngest uncle have very similar personalities, thought processes, and interests. They could basically be brothers. This uncle and his wife (may they never find this blog) were friendly, funny, charming people, and they invited us over to their house for an early dinner. 

All of us.

Fellow parents... you know.

These lovely people recently got married but don't have any kids yet. So despite their best efforts to make us feel welcome, their home wasn't really kid-friendly. I totally don't fault them for that. I've never kept a family of ferrets in my house, so my home isn't ferret-proof. You just can't know that you shouldn't leave water bottles or glass picture frames within three feet of the floor until your kids have pulled them down at least once. 

Unfortunately, we were starting this whole evening at a disadvantage. The kids took short, broken naps, or in the case of our eldest child, skipped naps altogether. A lack of consistent sleeping schedule coupled with strange surroundings have made our kids a little off-kilter this entire trip. On top of it all, I forgot my first rule of outings with kids, which is to lower all expectations until they can be lowered no more. It was because these were nice family members and I enjoyed being around them and wanted to make a good impression. My fault. So I got myself all wound up when our kids were acting like kids. 

What happened exactly, you ask? Well...

We pulled up to their house and all got out of the car to say hello. They have an Australian Shepherd who is very smart, very energetic, and was barking at us very loudly. That made Diana and Matthew a little nervous and nearly sent Liam over the edge. He had an experience when he was younger that left him afraid of aggressive or intense dogs, even if they're just being intensely friendly. So the kids were nervous right off the bat. I don't blame the dog for that at all. I know that good dogs, like good kids, sometimes don't act socially acceptable. Whatever. However, Diana is actually allergic to dogs. So though the dog and the kids eventually reached a state of detente, Diana very shortly became horribly itchy and uncomfortable because she petted the dog and because there was dog hair in the house. Her face began to break out in hives and she began to cry. We mostly put out that fire by wiping her down with a wet rag. 

Matthew, who has spent a lot of time riding around in his car seat during this trip, started yelling from his perch on an ottoman because he absolutely did not want to be left in his seat any longer, so I had to hold him the whole time. He was almost entirely pleasant, but makes for a very wiggly happy handful at this point.

Liam was doing what Liam does- thoughtlessly touching everything he shouldn't. He took the tops off of water bottles, pulled on the cords of shades, pushed pillows off the couch, stepped on his sister's foot (more yelling), pounded on the glass shower door in the bathroom- just stuff a little boy will do in a place that isn't really set up for little boys yet. 

After much whining from kids (and some genuine fear because the dog followed them everywhere) while I juggled Matthew and tried to half-participate in conversation with the other adults, dinner was ready. They put together a really lovely dinner with local dishes. It was healthy and tasted delicious. But of course, Diana needed to have mac and cheese (and though she had insisted upon it, literally the first thing she uttered on tasting it was, "This doesn't taste good.") Liam had a hamburger, though only part of it because he was so energetic and distracted that he kept hopping down and using the couches for tumbling practice instead of eating dinner. And Matthew mostly sat on my lap and made eating difficult by trying (and sometimes succeeding) at grabbing handfuls of my dinner. I had given up adult conversation by this point. I was getting wound up and mostly death-whispering to the kids to sit still and/or stop bothering each other and/or stop whining. Joseph was absorbed in conversation with his uncle, and I'm glad they got the chance to talk. But this situation would have been impossible to deal with even if we'd both devoted all our attention to it. We were trying to make kids act like adults and I was setting us all up for failure with impossibly high standards. 

For dessert, Joseph's aunt had made a lilikoi (passionfruit) chiffon pie from fruit grown in their yard. (I told you this was a tropical paradise!) However, because our kids don't react well to sugar, I suggested to a very interested Diana that we would share some pie. That didn't sit well with her, so she slipped into the kitchen where Joseph's aunt was dishing out pie and asked for (and got) her own piece. Of course his aunt couldn't have known that Diana wasn't supposed to get her own piece of pie. I only discovered it when Diana marched into the living room where we were all sitting munching on a generous slice of chiffon pie. That was straight up naughty, but we couldn't really discipline right then because we would risk making his relatives feel bad. So I told Diana she could eat half of the pie and we would take the other half home (where she would never ever see it again, but I didn't tell anyone that part). It was only when I began eating my slice of pie (minus a handful that Matthew claimed) that I had a shocking realization.

Chiffon pie is light and silky only because it's made with eggs. Beaten, lightly cooked eggs.

There are only a few things in the world that Diana is allergic to enough to throw up if she ingests them: Peanuts, tree nuts, and eggs. 

Yes.

Right on cue, Diana began to cry and complain because her stomach hurt which rapidly became "my throat is stinging" and her cheeks began to swell up. I experienced her reaction to undercooked eggs in the past, so I didn't really fear an anaphylactic reaction, but I knew she needed antihistamines fast. Thankfully, there was some Benadryl in the house so we gave her that and made our exit. She was wailing because she was in genuine distress. I had to put Matthew down in his chair to carry him to the car, which caused him to scream to high heaven. They live on a hill, so I had Liam follow me down the steps, but of course he managed to trip on his ever-present blanket and tumble past the side of me. I don't even know how many times he hit his head on the concrete steps. He wasn't bleeding, but he was definitely hurting. Joseph's aunt and uncle were so nice. They came out to wish us goodbye through the screaming symphony of our whole little circus. I was wound up as tight as could be and fuming at the way things had played out. The kids fell asleep on the car ride home, but each woke up to yell in turn as we carried them into the house. Diana was the last to come in, and though Joseph sprinted admirably, she still threw up on both of them. And the sink. And the other sink. On the plus side, he now finally believes me when I tell him Diana is allergic to eggs. It only really takes one time being vomited upon to make you a believer. 

And now, we all rest. I'm going to bed. I'm sure by tomorrow this will all seem laughable.

Do you have a cry-larious story about visiting relatives with kids?