And so Charlie has been with us for 30 weeks. He was born Super Bowl Sunday and the NFL season starts Thursday. As of Tuesday we’ll start telling people he’s seven months old, which is not exactly a round number in the world of baby raising. To top it off, it seems any time from six months to nine months is where babies develop the ability to sit without faceplanting, to crawl with purpose and to strongly distance themselves from a child of three or four months.
Charlie, well, Charlie can sit on his own power if an adult props him up. But he’s pretty unaware of how top heavy he is, and so he’ll fall over (frontward or backward) with way too much regularity to be left alone. He rolls like a champ, especially on the changing table, but he’s been stuck in the “almost crawling” phase for what seems like weeks. It’s not so much that we’re in a hurry to see these skills develop, as he’s clearly showing enough progress to fall in the range of “average” development. But this is our third time through this phase, and with everything else going on, I don’t quite have the focus or motivation to sit on the floor urging a baby to crawl my direction, especially when he’d rather just be picked up so he can chomp on my thumb.
If there is any area I would like to see him develop, it’s his comfort with people who were not directly involved in creating him. Pops and K were kind enough to watch all three boys so Kristie and I could go out for dinner to celebrate my birthday a few weeks ago. We were gone for a little more than an hour — and Charlie screamed pretty much the entire time. And it’s not as if he’s unfamiliar with my parents, who he sees several times a month. But he hates being left without both of us, he clings close when we are around large groups and he’s grown even less likely to smile at people outside his nuclear family, unless he’s attached to one of us in the vast array of slings, wraps and carriers my bride has amassed (some of which already have been sold for the exact amount we spend to buy them in the first place).
One thing I find myself wondering is where Charlie will fit in the overall family dynamic as he gains his physical independence. He’s and Max are closer in age than Max and Jack, but by the time Charlie might be reasonably able to engage in physical play with Max — in our house, this generally involves sprinting after each other, throwing one’s body into the furniture and maybe, just maybe, making your brother bleed, cry or both — Max and Jack will have been playing together for at least four years.
I figure in order for Charlie to keep up with Max — if he even wants to — he’ll need to be at least two years old. Jack will be about nine by then, and I’m pretty sure nine-year-olds don’t really get too excited about their two-year-old brothers tagging along anywhere. I suppose there could be a point where Jack outgrows Max and that’s what leads Max to latch on to Charlie. Or, it could be that Charlie continues to prefer only to observe his older brothers from a safe distance and he’ll choose isolation.
Yes, this is an awful lot to project on a kid at this early stage, but it’s what parents do. One of the ways Kristie and I tend to deal with the unpleasant parts of life as it is today is to look at the greener grass on the other side of the parenting fence. Of course, the flip side of that is those times where everything (read: Jack and Max) is going haywire while Charlie sleeps peacefully in my lap and I whisper, “Don’t grow up. Don’t you ever grow up.” This sort of thing is most definitely a two-way street.
Charlie has been here almost seven months. We’ve been parents for more than seven years. We’ve been married for more than nine years. We’re a few weeks away from the 13th anniversary of our first date. It is very, very easy to recall life without Charlie. And yet, it also seems as if he’s been with us forever, as if life before was incomplete, like all the various stages were in part in preparation for his arrival, taking his rightful place in the family dynamic. Again, heady stuff for a guy who isn’t smart enough to such his own thumb. But it continues to amaze me that I find it easier to bond quickly with each successive child that enters the family.
That may seem instinctual, but I clearly remember several times when Kristie was pregnant with Max doubting I’d ever be able to connect with a new baby the way I’d bonded with Jack over his almost four years of life. And I also clearly remember looking at newborn Jack (we’re talking the first few days) and wondering when I’d be overcome with the “I already know I love you” feeling first-time parents always rave on about. Sure, I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and, let’s be honest, abject terror. But when he was born, I was not nearly as overcome with emotion as I was the day we met Charlie.
This is not to say there’s something wrong with my relationship with Jack. In fact, I think it’s purely
because of Jack I can connect with Max and Charlie the way I do. He’s given us somewhat of a roadmap for where we’re going. For better and for worse, when I hold baby Charlie, I know some day the bond we have will grow deeper as it has with me and Jack and also Max. I know there will be fights and boundary testing and fear and loathing and all that negative stuff, too. But I also know there will be the pure joy of watching his personality emerge and becoming someone who looks to me for more than just pure comfort and tending to the most basic needs.
Of course, as the kids age, it requires more work from both parties to continue to nurture that bond. While it is physically and emotionally draining to care for an infant, it’s really quite easy, by comparison, to give them what they need. You feed them, change them and figure out what it takes to help them sleep. Meeting the needs of a second-grader goes quite a bit deeper (though we still need to provide the food, clean clothes and reliable bedtime routine). They take for granted their parents will meet those basic needs, and the relationship won’t continue to mature unless the more intricate needs are tended too. And, as all parents know, the more complex the child’s need, the harder it is to figure out what it is they actually need you to do for them. Many times the kids don’t actually know what they want until the parents provide it. And, joy of joys, it’s only going to get harder.
I think sometimes this is why certain parents keep making babies. Bigger kids are hard. Once you’ve done the baby thing enough, it starts to feel comfortable. Again, it whips your butt and taxes your brain, but
you know what you’re doing. I would much, much rather feed Charlie a cup of applesauce than try to figure out why Jack doesn’t have more play dates. And in two years, I’ll gladly change a diaper if the alternative is working on a science fair project. Don’t get me started on dating and learning to drive. Just keep giving me babies — I haven’t got all the answers, and there certainly is a tipping point where familiarity would breed contempt — babies are less of a mystery.
Of course, there is another way to approach the long-range planning. If Charlie remains our youngest, and if he manages to make it through school at the normal rate, we will deliver him to college shortly after my blowout 50th birthday party (of
course you’re invited). The prospect of empty nesting at what I consider to still be a fairly young age is rather intoxicating to someone in my current position, that of a guy who has no reasonable expectation of even four uninterrupted hours in my own bed.
But it’s not all bad. In fact, it’s pretty great. There are good days and bad days. Heck, there are good hours and bad hours, and sometimes the switch flips even faster. But this is absolutely what we signed up for, so I find myself able to enjoy the experience as a whole. Enjoy is not a strong enough word. And in the heat of certain moments, enjoyment is the most foreign of concepts. But such moments thankfully are fleeting, and I really do love my kids, my wife and this life we have together. It’s what I was put on Earth to do, and I try not to take that responsibility lightly.
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