Well, You’d Get Sappy, Too

I was feeding Cian tonight in his bedroom, listening to the girls in the living room below (living in an open floor-plan split-level: so easy to eavesdrop!). They were curled up on the loveseat together, paging through a photo album like two old ladies looking through black-and-white photographs of their youth. The album contained pictures from about two years ago (which was probably the last time I actually had real photos printed out, but you’re the same way, right?), and Saoirse was just talking Quinn through them, telling her stories, explaining who each person was. And as I listened, I heard them talking back and forth in quiet, calm voices, reminiscing and asking questions, and it was exactly–exactly–how I imagine them talking in 30, 40–or yes, when they’re old ladies and I’m long (*sniff*) gone–years.

073I can’t really explain how I felt right then. Happy, yes, because there’s nothing like hearing your children have one of those moments when they’re in their own private bubble, content. Proud, because David and I are raising two kind, smart, curious, happy girls, and we just straight-up won the DNA lottery with these two. But I was also weirdly sentimental in a…futuristic kind of way. One day these girls are going to live lives where I’m not present. They’re going to sit on a couch, and page through photos, and talk about the old days. They’re going to be full-grown, competent women, with careers and families and passions of their own. I will have done my job, but won’t be around to see the completed handiwork in its final stages. I’m probably creeping David out with this post–I know I’m freaking my mother out–but…gosh. I hope when they get to that age–30, 40, 80 years from now–they’ll love their own kids as much as I love them. Because, sitting in a room with one baby, listening to my others: there are some moments in life where you are so fiercely grateful for what you have that you can’t quite grasp the magnitude of the emotion. There’s no way to explain it. There’s no way to even show it, as much as you want to. But, sitting in a room with one baby, listening to my others: you could offer me the world, and I’d tell you I already have it.

077And boy, is it wonderful.

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