One at a Time

I passed on my maternity clothes today. All the overalls, stretchy waistbands, a-line shirts and oversize Ts went to the home of another preggo mama who, if like me, was thrilled with the three huge trash bags full of new, stretchy wardrobe. As excited as I was, 8 months ago, to see them come, I was just as excited today to see them go. What feels so comfy when sporting the 25 extra pounds of babe in the belly, now looks frumpy and serves only as a reminder of how much weight there is left to lose. So, maternity clothes begone.

Confession: I kept some. Just in case.

Mike often talks about "three." I've always said, "One at a time." What will our future family look like? I don't know, but I was surprised with myself for holding onto some of those clothes because, right now, two feels just absolutely perfectly symmetrically evenly wonderfully right.

I have two hands, one for each when crossing the street.
Most tables at restaurants are made for families of four. And airplane seats and amusement park rides.
There are two parents--the division of labors are nice and clean and neat.
Any more than two would require a mini-van.
And an addition to our house.
Two girls is so sweet. What would a little boy DO with two older sisters? What would WE do with three teenage girls?

It seems totally crazy to me that I'm even contemplating this on the third week of having number two, but I tell you, I held onto some maternity clothes today and by doing so, I forced the issue upon myself... and there it has been, rattling around, uninvited, in my brain all day.

Until tonight, when I crawled into Winona's bed for stories, songs and "Two Minutes" (the time I lie with her, silently as she nestles in-- usually, in reality more like 10 minutes). I held a sleeping Jezebel in my lap while I read books and sang songs. When it came time to snuggle, Winona got whimpery and started to show signs of breaking down into something unpleasant.
"What is it, babe?"
"I need you. I need to snuggle."
Translation: Put down the baby. Hold me.
"Want to sleep in my nest?" (My 'nest' is my cross-legged lap), says a quick-thinking mama, who knows the babe will wake up hungry if put down on the bed.
"YEAH!"
I moved Jezzy up to my chest, where she still fits so well, clearing the way for my little NonaBird to make her nest.
Both girls were sound asleep before the "Two Minutes" were up, but I stayed there for 20 minutes or more, filled with all things good about being a mom.

I could probably get creative, if need be, and find room for another child to sleep somewhere on my body, but tonight I let it all go--minus a few stretchy items of clothing--and dozed for "Two Minutes" with my Two Girls.