The other day I heard on the radio or something like that three is the new two- that more and more people are having three kids these days rather than two, which was the norm for quite a while. I reflected on that. Why are people opting for more children?
And what I thought of was this: the whole is greater than the sum of its individual parts, which is perhaps not overly clear to you, but I'll try to make it more clear. The children bring more to the family than just their individual selves- it's the way they relate to each other, the way they relate to us, it adds a whole other dimension to the family. Like the way we put Payton to bed at night and tell her that she can't have any juice after she brushes her teeth, and she starts to cry. And then Gage will go in there and sneak her a drink of juice. Or the way when Alex is crying and I'm too busy to pick him up, Payton will go to him and do a silly dance until he starts laughing. Or the way Payton will advocate for Gage if I ground him from his DS. Basically, what I see is I see them nurturing one another. And that to me, is the most special thing to watch. To watch them interact with each other and care for each other is more special to me, in a way, than the children themselves.
Or so I thought at three pm when Alex was having his nap and Gage was at school and Payton was immersed in Dora. It all seemed so ideal then. And then Gage came home from school. Immediately, a huge fight broke out over Oreo cookies, Payton was crying and yelling, which woke the baby, and then they were all crying. And then I was like: what was I thinking? This is chaos, and tears and screaming and sometimes blood. This is not nurturing and caring and joy and bunnies and rainbows.
Oh well. I guess, all in all, I am glad that we have three children. Our family feels complete, if a little on the loud side from time to time.
Onto other news- first of all, I haven't come up with any wacky inventions yet.
Secondly, I think that the unthinkable might be happening and I am slowly turning into my mother. They say it's eventual- that it's a when rather than an if- but I never really believed it would happen to me. I thought I could fight the power. But yesterday, a rather disturbing development with a bread bag occurred. I had chicken meat, which I had portioned and was going to freeze, but then I realized we had no freezer bags. For a second I was panicked. And then I noticed a bread bag on the counter with only a crust or two of bread in it. And the wheels started to turn. But then I was like, no, that's exactly what my mother would do- recalling the many times she would use bread bags and an alternate to Tupperware. I was like 'don't give in. There's another way, surely.' But there wasn't. So I now have a bread bag full of chicken thighs in the freezer. I wonder what is happening to me and how long the transformation will take to complete until I am watching Young and the Restless and compulsively drinking Tim Horton's coffee.
Oh, well. I think that my mother is, all in all, pretty cool, and if I do end up turning into her I think I would be pretty lucky.