Contradictions

“I growed up, Gramma.  My feet are SO big.”  He says it over the phone with such confidence.  He is proud to be getting bigger, stronger, older.  But he’s also not.  He refuses to admit to his 3 years, and instead claims only 2.  I don’t wanna be three, he says.  My big boy, who growed up, still wants to be my baby.  Calls me in the night just to snuggle.  Shuns his potty and embraces the diaper.  He’s so big but oh, so little. 

Maybe it’s not one or other.  Maybe we can be both.  

I love my days home with my little troop.  I mean, come on - we get to play all day, stay in sweat pants, read Berenstein Bears meet Santa Claus, brush through beautiful curls, make pancakes in the shape of cars, and do elaborate painting projects, and snuggle and kiss and tickle my little preciousnesses!  What a life!  But on the other hand, oh my.  How many times can I trip over another Lightning Mqueen?  And I no motivation left to wear anything but sweat pants.  The hair never stayed brushed and I have to daily pick my way through tangle after tangle with tears and whines.  And who can really make a pancake look like a car?  Definitely not me.  And the paint never stays on the paper.  And yes, I did just wipe us a good sized urine sample from my kitchen counter.  Again.  Oh, how I love my life, but oh how I’ve had enough.

I want friends.  But I just wanna stay home and relax.   I love spending time with my husband.  But I do see a lot of my husband.  I am enjoying every minute of my baby’s life.  But I’m so tired and a bit more sleep wouldn’t hurt.  My girl and my boy play so well together.  Oh.  Moment’s over and they’re fighting again.  I can open a nice bottle of red wine and, gasp, love Jesus.  I can cook a mean pot of beef stew and hate beef.  I can be the plainest girl on the block but birth the fanciest girl in town.  

I want to be big and I want to be small.  

And that’s ok.  

I can be overwhelmed without declaring I hate my life.  

I can be happy without expecting to love every minute.  

I am full of contradictions.  I experience the blacks and the whites.  But ultimately, they change, develop, morph, and grow.  And I find myself realizing that no emotion sticks.  No fight lasts.  We can be big and we can be little.  

And we’re all ok.