The One Where I See The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

In case you don't know my family in real life, we have lots of babies. It feels that way, anyway.

Actually, technically at the moment we only have one baby, 6-month-old James. Wesley is just over a year and a half old and Jack will be three in a few weeks - both solidly in toddler territory. If you don't feel like doing the math, that means when Jack was 6 months old, I got pregnant with Wesley - and when Wesley was 5 months old, I got pregnant with James. Oy. Just saying it makes me feel like the parental equivalent of a crazy cat lady. I have been either pregnant or carrying a newborn around for the past three and a half years. Homestar Runner fans, my married life has been a Wave O' Babies.

I love my babies - but some days they seem to multiply until they fill every corner of my house and every bit of available airspace. Some days, I feel like I haven't slept through the night in years - and truthfully, there have been more interrupted nights than not, since this ride on the Wave O' Babies started. Some days, I wonder if I will ever be able to go out in public without holding one child in a carrier, another on my hip, and snatching at the back of the third one who is constantly running away (Jack, I'm looking at you, kid.).

Some days, I'm drowning in babies.

But today. Today, we got up, had breakfast, and headed to Heaven On Earth - or in layman's terms, the Polar Express exhibit at our local museum. Trains, a bouncy house, trains, cookies, TRAINS... you get the idea. I was steeling myself for meltdowns and escape attempts, tears and attention-drawing screams. If you've ever had toddlers, you know that the "exit tantrum" is directly proportional to the attraction level of the exhibit, whether that be a playdate, a dusty sucker, or an amazing, toddler-delirium-inducing train set. But, how is a child going to learn how to behave in public if you never allow them the opportunity to misbehave in public? In other words, unfortunately you have to allow yourself to become a public spectacle a few (or many) times in order to let the kid learn what IS expected of them out in public. We have had lots of practice being a public spectacle, unfortunately - but still, bread and milk must occasionally be purchased without the aid of a babysitter.

So needless to say, I was braced for at least one epic meltdown when it was time to leave the train exhibit. But the "big" boys ("big" being a relative term here) both behaved themselves admirably - walked calmly while holding our hands, drank in the electric trainsets, talked shop with the adult train enthusiasts who were operating them (you haven't seen cute until you've seen a 2-year-old seriously discussing the difference between steam and diesel locomotives with an adult wearing a conductor's hat), jumped in the bouncy house, and played with the museum's "hands-on" wooden train set. The baby even behaved himself, smiling and flirting with every female in the building and nursing quietly in a corner without squealing or otherwise drawing attention to or exposing my milk-producing appendages. We met their cousins (also boys but a couple years older, and in my boys' opinions, the COOLEST COUSINS EVER) and all five boys played together with the trains, ate popcorn (not the baby, duh), and basically just bro'd out. It was so cute to see them wandering around together, the bigger boys keeping the littler boys near them and teaching them not to eat popcorn off the floor.

And when it was time to leave, it only took a chicken-nugget bribe to achieve a semicontrolled egress with a minimum of screaming - there were a few tears but I don't think anyone else really noticed. It suddenly hit me that my babies are becoming little boys, with the ability to put on their own shoes, speak in complete sentences (Wesley is still working on that but he and Jack are able to have some super-cute little conversations now), and eat with a fork (again, still achieving full independence but we are making progress). A day will come when I can take my children out in public without buckling a single carseat strap, wipe a single nose, or sweep a tantruming monster toddler quickly out the door while trying to avoid property damage. Eventually, one day, they will be able to cross the street all by themselves. They will not need me to cut up their hot dogs for them, fill their cups with milk, or tuck them into bed. They will grow into independent men who can capably handle anything life throws at them, and I will no longer be immediately recognizable as a "mommy" when I go out in public. There are days when I long for that independence to come quickly, so that I can poop without interruption, sleep a full night, maybe even set a hot beverage on my coffee table without fear of burns, spills, and stains. But for now, a glimpse of the future is enough to keep me going when what I really want for Christmas is a couple of extra arms and energy to match that of my children. Because right now, they still want to climb into my lap. They still need goodnight kisses and hand-holding. They are still babies, and that will pass too quickly.

And in case you thought the entire day was a brilliant, rose-colored dream of well-behaved toddler success, just know that Jack threw an epic naptime standoff tantrum that more than made up for his good behavior at the museum. For now, Mommy is still needed. And that is just fine with me.