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I don’t suppose I blame the other parents for laughing at me, even though I resented it deeply at the time.

Shouldn’t the sight of a woman holding a screaming infant to her shoulder as a two-and-a-half-year-old clings to her leg crying, “Mommy!  MOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYY!” invoke sympathy — nay, even empathy, considering the limited reasons any adult would be hanging out at a playground — rather than snickers with a strong undercurrent of, “Better her than me”?  And when the beleaguered mother erupts, “I can’t carry you!!!  DO YOU HEAR THE BABY CRYING???” you’d think the other adults in the vicinity would have the manners to pretend there is something more interesting to look at in the other direction.

My sister-in-law Maureen valiantly tried to convince Jake that she was just as good at carrying him as his mother, despite having just suffered through a prolonged session of pushing him on a swing (she admitted to finding it as mentally stimulating as I do) while Lily and I rested comfortably on a nearby bench.  But her kindness and patience were paid back by Jake sobbing, “MOMMY!!!!” in her ear as he sadly reached for my unresponsive arms.

This display, I am rather amazed to say, has not been a staple of the past two months that Lily has been in our lives.  It is a recent phenomenon, triggered, I would guess, by the pre-playground morning, when Maureen navigated the stroller ramps of the Nature Center with Lily while I got to be the one carrying Jake, reminding him of just what it’s like to be Mommy’s little boy.

I mean “got to be” in the truest sense of the phrase.  I have been starving for the chance to hold that pale, warm body against mine, to need only turn my head to kiss that firm round cheek, to wrap my arms tight around his ribcage and love, love, love on him.  That his enthusiastic entry into the house at the end of the day generally sets Lily off into a frenzy of “Hold me! Save me!” neediness generally prevents the kind of contact with my son to which I had grown accustomed in our pre-Lily days.

So I complained relatively little about carrying him through the Nature Center (only on the uphills, really).  I coddled him as we picked up picnic provisions in Greenlife on our way to the Nature Center and even let Maureen wear Lily in the sling without breaking out in a single panic sweat.  Instead, I happily relished the sweetness of limping around toting thirty-five pounds of toddler perfectly capable of walking himself.

I should have known I’d pay for it.

But what mostly occurred to me as I tried to shake Jake off my leg in the playground and wished desperately that Lily would stop shrieking was that this scenario was exactly what I had expected with the new baby.  That I had been lucky to escape it thus far.

And, too, that — horrifying as those few minutes may have been — it all became worth it when I finally got Lily in her car seat and pulled Jake to me in a full-body, clinging-to-each-other, drenched-with-love hug.

Continue reading ‘Be Careful What You Wish For … and then Wish Away’