As I was driving C to the Children’s Museum this morning I realized that Zoe would be 4 months old today. And I’m okay. Unlike the previous months I didn’t wake up in an awful mood this morning, not knowing why. It hasn’t been on my mind constantly for the last week, knowing the date was looming. I’ve finally solved the problem on how to not dwell on it–MOVE! I have been completely wrapped up in moving. What do we need to pull out (ha–who am I kidding…what do *I* need to pull out. Jeff is completely and totally useless when it comes to moving) to survive for the next month without our stuff? For the beach? For an empty house? In the camper? What are we going to eat? Wear? Watch? Do? What do we need to clean the house? What can I sell/donate? What route are we taking? Where are we stopping? When are we leaving? Those and thousands of other questions need to be answered. And once I finally sit down and stop moving for the night I’m utterly exhausted. I barely have the energy to zone out in front of the TV, let alone think about the upcoming milestone and what it means.
And now that I do have time to think about everything, now that the packers are (finally) at the house and zooming through all of our worldly possessions, I’m okay. It’s difficult to imagine how things would be if she was with us. She would be 4 months old and becoming an actual baby now, not a blob. I’d be getting more sleep. She’d be starting to fall into a routine. So unlike the early days when I knew that everything would be different because I would be a sleep deprived zombie, now I have idea what things should be like. My first thought is now no longer “how should this be” every time I go somewhere or do something. My brain is finally beginning to accept that this is normal. My heart doesn’t stop every time I see a teeny tiny baby. I’m not insanely jealous of every mother is see with three kids.
Of course that’s not to say that on Friday when all of our stuff is gone and we say goodbye to this place that everything won’t come flooding back and I’ll have a breakdown (or ten). When I take our traditional goodbye picture in front of the house and there are only two children instead of three. When the 22nd comes. When the 14th of July comes. When we show up at Leavenworth and qualify for a 3 bedroom instead of a 4. When I meet a mom whose baby girl is 4 months old. And when any (or all) of that happens, it’s okay. Because I know now that this is survivable. That the bad phases are just that–phases. And although what happened will never be okay or right, it is what it is. We’re different people because of it. Hopefully better people because of it.
People who commit horrific acts have always baffled me, and now even more so than ever. People like the Orlando shooter who have obviously never experienced any kind of senseless tragedy. If they had they would never want to inflict that kind of pain on anyone else. I am dumbfounded by what our society is becoming and hope now more than ever that people will come to their senses. Develop empathy. Appreciate the preciousness of human life–all human life. There’s enough “natural” tragedy in the world–why would you intentionally cause harm to others? All I can hope is that my children could never fathom intentionally causing harm to others, physically or mentally. And if they are ever in a terrorism situation they’ll have the presence of mind to stay calm and do what they can to help keep others safe. It’s a sad world we live in now and the only way we can fix it is to raise the next generation right. It’s a simple as following the Golden Rule: treat others as you wish to be treated. Respect. I saw this somewhere (probably Pinterest) awhile ago and it stuck with me. It’s especially relevant today and a lesson I hope to instill in our children. And in ourselves. Hmmm, kind of got off topic there. Nobody should be surprised.