On the eve of Super Fetus' birth (or rather the 20th eve before the due date that I am really hoping is wrong) I am pondering who this whirling womb of bladder punching and spine sitting will turn out to be. It's a natural thought. I have spent 9 months with this person and I don't really know much, other than he/she does not like pasta sauce, enjoys midnights strolls around the house, and likes sandwiches with the passion of Jimmy John. Not a whole lot to go on. Will she be a scientist? Will he be a poet? Will she like dogs? Will he want to read by the windows when it rains? Will he be a she? Will she be a he? Are there two of them? OK, I know that one, Super Fetus is growing solo. So, maybe I also know that he/she likes space!
I am driving the car pool as I am thinking these thoughts and I look back into the rear view mirror, and into the not-so-distant past, to the gestation of three of the children back there. I can hear Super Kindergartener's relentless monologue about the weather in Russia, the various sports of the winter Olympics, and his thoughts on the word 'luge." He's a fan of it, basically. I don't know who he is talking to because Super Preschooler is whispering love poetry at the faint moon that has appeared on the horizon out his window. The little boy we drive home is shouting as loud as he can just to hear Super Toddler shout back, even louder. If this is some sort of decibel game, she is winning. Hands down. Or rather, up. To cover your ears.
I didn't picture any of this during their pregnancies. Oh, I had vague thoughts about scholarship and athletic prowess and adorable dimples. But the sheer power of personality in this beige Sienna is threatening to blow the doors off. (Which would be helpful, as they tend to stick when it is this cold.) And I could not have pictured any of that. Seriously, I always thought we would buy a Honda.
Super K.'s brain weaves and creates the most amazing scenarios ever weaved and created. I fully expect him to build a rocket ship in the backyard one of these days. And yet, he is no cold fish scientist, but one of the gentlest and most loving of friends, who seems to be able to read a room just as fast as he actually learned to read. A sensitive and kind soul, who makes me valentines year-round that announce "I love Mommy!" in delightful burgeoning handwriting that always misjudges the available space and has to call me, Mo-mmy, on 2 lines. There are about 12 of these hanging in the dining room alone, along with an art collection that he calls "Me, Daddy, and all the different lightsabers in the universe." No, my pregnancy wishes for my first born were pedestrian and uninspired compared to the kind genius who showed up 10 days late during a snowstorm.
The bold dreamer that is in love with the moon is like no one I have ever met. Super Preschooler is as unique as his ever-growing family of imaginary friends. His one-sided conversation with the moon is going something like this: "Hello Moon! You are out early today! Did you miss me? I missed you. Super K! Look, the moon came out for me! Invisible Grandpa can see it, can't you? Moon, Moon, Moon, Beautiful Moon. So sweet. Let's go visit Bebe and show her the beautiful moon, and then we can dance." Last night, in front of a glowing, and most hidden by his leaps, television he showed me his ice skating routine. Well, his ice skating pairs routine. Super Preschooler's moves were graceful and inspired, but he claims Invisible Grandpa is the stronger one of the two. I disagree. I think Super Preschooler is stronger than anyone I know; a will of iron stands beneath a grin as loose as his fly-away hair. This teflon poet was not who I expected when I had my second son on a sleety January morning 4 years ago. 3 weeks ahead of schedule.
And then there is the beautiful girl merrily screaming from the seat right behind me. A force of nature in a pair of pink pajamas festooned with monkeys and hearts, Super Toddler knows no limits. No boundaries. And no "noes." Girl does as she pleases and I am frankly surprised that she obeys the laws of gravity most days. She is very life itself; a power that predates the formation of the earth, with sticky hands, something unidentifiable in her hair, and a hunger that wants all the sausage. And wants it right now. She defies expectations. Of course, she does. She defies everything. There is nothing princess about Super Toddler; she is, and always will be, a queen. I could not have foreseen this, even as they laid her restless relentless body on my chest and announced that I now had "my girl!" They were wrong. I don't have Super Toddler. She has me; body and soul. As she did the second she appeared, right on her due date, to scream right in my face.
They all have me. Forever. And Super Fetus too. Whoever he or she is. I can't help but think about him or her; drifting dreams that will disappear the second I get to look in his or her boundless eyes and see the soul lurking there. The soul that I will never truly posses or be able to have. The soul more magnificent that anything I could have thought up about the being currently kicking my ribs. A soul I will have the privilege and pleasure of knowing just a little bit as it blooms and grows and eclipses everything else in my world. A soul that will slip into this family so seamlessly that we will wonder how we ever got along without it before. Without the knowledge or magic or pure energy that this new soul will share with us before heading out into the big, beautiful world to make it even bigger and more beautiful. I can't wait.
Seriously. I can't. 20 days is too long. Someone tell Super Fetus to hurry on up!
Not sure when we'll be back,
but there might be 4 Supers in the next picture you see!
but there might be 4 Supers in the next picture you see!
Well, like 17 really.
Super Preschooler doesn't like to leave out anyone, even the invisible among us.