Dance

Thursday nights are our hectic ones these days, and, really, compared to a lot of families I hear talking, ours aren't all that hectic at all! I shuttle the girls to three different dance classes, but it's not too bad since they are close to our house. I've gotten spoiled, too, since fairly often our neighbors will watch the non-dancers so that I can run with the dancers. On nights they aren't around, Mike often is. However, there have been a couple nights where I've needed to load up the whole crew to go for the late-pick-up. It's not bad, but it's a fair amount of work to feed the masses, wash the masses (some nights - it's not every Thursday that everyone in the house gets a "wash"!), semi-clean up the dinner mess, pajama everyone left in the house except myself, and load us all up alone only to arrive at dance, unload my workbeast of a stroller, and haul us all in to reclaim our dancer.

Well, the first time I did it, I actually enjoyed it; Manly Mouse, who has been teething seemingly since the day he was born (no, basically this fall is when he started), hadn't slept all day and finally fell asleep on the way to dance pickup, stayed asleep while the girls performed for us parents, and stayed asleep while I did bedtime with his older siblings! It was pretty fun to have done pickup that night with my little company of kiddos. Sometimes things like that get lonely alone when one is used to being surrounded by warm little bodies! Anyway, it was a fun night until Manly woke up from what apparently was a "nap" and stayed awake until 2 a.m.

Fast forward to last Thursday night. I was left doing pickup alone again; I had high hopes of not turning it into a 2 a.m. bedtime this time (that was way back before Christmas), and I was concentrating on appreciating the fact that I can physically load and unload my workbeast from the van (even with the deer-hauling-trailer still attached!).  I'm being quite serious in appreciating that fact. If I weren't able to lift and haul that thing around, the girls could not have signed up for any dance class where I might have to pick them up with their siblings. It's a true blessing to have the strength to be able to lift heavy carseats and heavy strollers. I don't take that for granted.

But I do sometimes feel sorry for myself.

And I almost started to that evening.

My new little niece was born on Wednesday, and I want to snuggle her fuzzy, little curls and kiss her scrumptious little chin so bad I can taste her baby cuteness from these 400 miles away. My Mom and Dad were (thankfully!) meeting her that evening.  And I was alone, hauling my cute-I-like-to-nibble-and-kiss-them-kiddos to dance pickup at bedtime. Alone. I was feeling alone.

And starting to feel sorry for myself....but just barely starting. It was sort of just a little "itch" in the back of my brain.

It started to become a little more evident of an "itch" as I realized Manly needed to eat but that I wouldn't have time to feed him before we needed to be there. My heart broke a bit as I strapped him in his seat, crying for food. I told myself I'd offered him lots of solids that he'd refused. But I felt that mama-guilt kicking in....telling me how I wasn't enough.

His sad little cries as I loaded them all in the car reinforced that guilt. And that guilt is always what lets the pity party out of its cage.

Until.

I heard a sweet, soft little girl voice from the back singing to her sad brother: "Brother, Brother, I love you".

And then I heard a sweet, soft little toddler boy voice try his best to chime in: "Wuv You. Wuv You. It okay. Wuv You".

Melt.

Immediately, the pity party was re-caged; the mama guilt evaporated; and I thanked God for the moment.  Certainly it would have been easier to leave the siblings home for pickup with Mike or our neighbors. They'd have had a better time; it would have been easier for me. But, would it have been better necessarily? The easier route would have meant we wouldn't have shared that moment.  I appreciate all the weeks where we can enjoy the "easy route"; honestly, we wouldn't do this dance class if I had to take them all for pickup every week. But sometimes there are vistas and high points on the hard route that make it all worth it. This was one of them.

A really neat addition is that I remember Miss Mouse being the same age Mighty Mouse is, and I was on my way to a friend's wedding - alone with the girls - and when Baby Sunny began fussing, Miss Mouse sang her the same "Wuv you" song as Mighty had chimed in on now for Manly Mouse. It's precious to me that I now have a companion memory of even more sibling love.