My kids are 17-months and 9-months. I am going to pause while you do the math if you are new to my story….
Yep, 7 months apart. Short version I was 8 weeks prego when we adopted our son at his birth.
And before you say it, yes, I have my hands full like any other mother.
They don’t talk. I hate that. I think babies should learn language while in the womb and come out communicating. I’ve spent the better part of 2 years playing charades with someone who is really no more intelligent at this point than my dog. For a solid year at least, I am pretty sure the dog is more intelligent.
Of course you learn the signals and the subtle differences between the Woman-I-Am-Hungry-Why-Aren’t-You-Feeding-Me and the I-Am-Tired-But-Am-Too-Stupid-To-Figure-Out-Sleeping-Will-Make-It-Better and finally I-Crapped-A-Lot cries.
Now if you are a parent chances are that at this moment, you are chuckling or at least nodding your head if you think I am too cleaver for my own good. If you aren’t a parent you are shaking your head thinking why would anyone do this to themselves.
Here’s why. Because the one thing these kids really know how to communicate, despite not knowing how to stop themselves from drooling, is how much they love you. The first time they reach their arms up and wrap them around your neck, you are done for. You will put up with so much more than explosive diarrehia when they do that. Then they learn to drool all over your cheek as a form of a kiss. If I have been away, my daughter grins, claps and does this intake breath kind of an exclaimation when she sees me. My son runs pell mell into my legs and locks his arms around my knees, grinning up at me, dimples ablaze. I can’t imagine what I will do when they actually learn to say, “I love you.” I may just buy them a pony.