As I'm typing this post, I can hear a gentle thumping sound coming over the monitor. I know that sound--it's become pretty regular around bedtime. It's the sound of little Cub feet thumping against the wall as he sucks his thumb and holds Mr. Lion, before falling asleep. I'm convinced that Cub crawls all over his big boy bed before he finally settles on one end and drifts off.
On Saturday, I went to Hobby Lobby to peruse some decor for Naomi's nursery. My husband had taken our son swimming, their new almost-daily activity together, so I had about an hour all to myself (magical!). I walked in and pushed my cart around aimlessly for a few minutes, not really sure where to start. Since her bedding isn't here and won't be here for a while, I really don't have an (exact) color palette to work from. After a few more minutes of wandering, I found myself standing in front of a tall rack of separated white stacked letters. I pulled out the letters that will be Naomi's initials and pushed them around in the cart for a while, before finding myself standing there again. I put some of the letters back and decided to spell out her whole name. As I pulled each letter out of its appropriate bin, I went over the spelling again in my mind: N-A-O-M-I. I smiled when I thought about how many times I will be spelling that name in just a few short months. Then I impulsively grabbed the letters for her middle name: K-A-T-E. Something about actually seeing the letters to her name, all stacked in my cart, gave me the most wonderful feeling of excitement. My little Naomi Kate. The letters are now arranged on the nursery floor, awaiting their place on the wall.
Sigh. What special days these are.
I've recently been feeling a slight sadness when I think about the days of just Cub and I coming to an end. At first these feelings took me by surprise and I quickly stifled (or reasoned) them away, until I finally realized that they were, in fact, perfectly acceptable feelings to have. Expected feelings, even. Cub is my buckaroo. He's my shopping companion, my cleaning companion (you should see him with a Swiffer), my laundry companion, my park companion, my play group companion ... he's my buddy. We start our day off the same way, me with my cup of coffee while he eats his yogurt, every day. I know his favorite books and we read them frequently throughout the day. I understand what he's saying and asking of me. I know where he loves to be tickled and he rests his head on my shoulder and nonchalantly plays with my hair with the tips of his little fingers when I sing to him. He was the first person to absolutely terrify and captivate and empower me at the same time--this little person who completely changed my life. My son.
And in a few short months, he will be joined by his little sister.
We're thrilled. I can't wait for them to meet. But, I never want him to feel that he wasn't enough for us. I want him to know that it is because of our overwhelming love for him that we even considered having another baby in the first place. We know how good it is. We know how parenting has made us better people. We know the blessing of children. We get it. And it's because of him. We can't wait for he and Naomi to know each other. I'm so excited for the secrets and tents and road trips and mud fights that lie ahead. The dares. The inside jokes. And everything else that comes with having a sibling. I know, I know, there will be fighting, too. Of course--it's just a part of it. The everything.
When I returned home, my husband and Cub were back. I arranged Naomi's letters on the floor while Cub sat in the glider and rocked back and forth (saying "Row, row, row"). Once the letters were arranged, Cub slid down from his perch and joined me on the floor. He crawled over the letters and with a huge grin, he handed me the "A" from NAOMI. I told him, "The 'A' is gone! Now it says 'Nomi'!" He gave a sweet smile and repeated, "Nomi!" Then he plunked down where the "A" was missing and smiled up at me, sitting right in the middle of his sister's name.
My little buckaroo.
And sister, too.