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Do you remember back when you could sleep as long as you wanted on Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon?
When you could eat breakfast without little hands grabbing for it, even though they’ve just eaten everything else in the refrigerator? Back when I was pregnant with Libbie, I never would have imagined not fueling up for the rest of the day. I was hungry, therefore I ate. Now, sometimes it’s too much trouble to take three bites of a granola bar.
When you could fit two or even three people in the backseat of your car, you didn’t have to pack diapers to leave the house, and cutting through the living room did not involve wading through a sea of Little People, blankets, puzzle pieces, and baby dolls?
Laundry day was once a week, you wore clean clothes and high heels to the office, and the words pacifier weaning (or blankie weaning) had never crossed your mind.
You were never embarrassed because your child was trying to climb on the table at a Mexican restaurant while wailing at the top of her lungs (not that it’s ever happened to us … yesterday).
And yet ….
There were no sloppy wet kisses on the lips, or after-bath bear hugs, or tiny toes to tickle.
You didn’t spend half the day laughing at a toddler learning to talk and her hilarious combination of words into sentences.
You and your spouse didn’t look at each other with amazed smiles, thinking, “THIS is a combination of our DNAs. We sort-of MADE this little, laughing, wriggly thing.”
What did we laugh about as we fell asleep? Whose shoes were we constantly searching for? And why, on God’s green earth, wasn’t my house clean?
Some days, the Old Life seems peachy-keen. But I’ll take this side any day. There’s a lot more laughing, a lot more love, and a lot more pink.