It Began with a BBFT

Jack turned three this past Thanksgiving and it was a traumatic day for me AND him. Mainly for me.

Why? Well he is our baby. There shall be no more Baby Battles--not any sired by Ryan Battles anyhow--medical science has taken care of that--and the leap to age 3 is truly the leap out of infancy/toddlerhood. He's like a preschooler--with opinions and sentences--and somehow he even learned colors and numbers! Anyhow,  when we made the decision to take measures to 'be done' it made a lot of sense. a whole lot. I mean, when Jack was born the twins had just turned 4, Ben was 22 months and was not talking at all so essentially was like parenting a super-cute, human looking chimpanzee. So needless to say it was a challenging time. I'm not complaining at all and we made the choice to have our kids close together which I wouldn't change even if we had a do-over, but at the time we sent Ryan off to the doctor to put some finality to our fertility (which screams irony b/c we paid a lot of money TO fertility peeps to have these kids so now we're paying to stop it??) we felt like a 5th might just break us.

Fast forward to November, 2015 and now everyone is sleeping great. Naps while nice are not essential and can be skipped for more exciting things. The kids can actually be helpful and in general we are emerging from the toddler fog-- and I now have baby fever.

I think it's normal though, right? and would happen regardless of the size of our brood-- if we had 15 kids that once that 15th one turned 3 and it hit me that we were done with babies and the like I'd have a period of mourning. As I have said before I don't do well with change--even positive change--so I think this emotional hiccup is normal and unavoidable regardless of our brood size and is not cause to march in for a vasectomy reversal. Ryan wholeheartedly agrees (for multiple obvious reasons) and has been talking me off of the ledge these last few weeks and so far the vasectomy has stayed intact.

Just to capture a little of my maternal emotionionalism (not a real word I know but I like it) about the graduation out of the baby stage let me describe Jack's  'Farewell to the Pacifiers'. The twins ditched their pacifiers by age 3 (on the advice of our dentist so as not to have paci shaped dentition forever) which I of course documented but handled better than this one (Ben never liked them so I only got to practice this once).

Ryan was fine of course and we had been talking up the 'paci's going bye-bye' thing for a bit with Jack so I thought he'd be fine. The girls were great with it so I was hopeful. Jack actually did pretty well tossing them out but then when the light went out and he was snuggling up in his crib (yes, he still is in a crib and I'm not letting it go for quite some time--he's contained and he loves it. the child still takes a 2-3 hour nap every day!) he started to cry. A very sad forlorn cry--at least to my ears. It probably was the same cry he does when I say no to a second cookie or no to more snacks but because I was primed to be sad about this transition to me it was a grief stricken-pierce-your-mothers-heart kind of cry. So I tip-toed into the darkness and looked down at him in mourning over his pacifiers and of course I started crying and there we are both crying in the dark and it was just a big mess. I swear I was never this emotional until I had these kids. I so wanted to hand him back his little pacifiers and so he could stuff one in his face and roll the rest around in his little hands. In the end I stayed strong mainly thanks to Ryan  (he tested me straightaway by coming into our room shortly after the tearful scene and saying, "He seems pretty sad, think we should give them to him?" to which I replied "Yes! Yes! I'll get them!" and then he hollered "NO! that was a test and you failed!!--c'mon Battles, stay strong!") but every day for some time I said to Ryan 'I don't care! If he cries again, I'm giving them back!" to which he would give me a parenting pep talk and ultimately I'd toughen up. I still have a baggie of them stashed away just in case Jack backslides and needs a pacifier bender.

And so as we are all aware time marches on ( I think I say this phrase in every post) -- my baby turned three, ditched his pacifiers and we both survived. His teeth are no longer paci shaped (sniff) and I even signed him up for preschool in the fall (pending potty training--Ryan swears I'm giving Jack a pill to thwart his potty training to keep him in diapers).  I still have some things I'm not ready to let go of yet--such as the aforementioned crib and I'm pretty sure I'll be carrying him around at his 16th birthday--I just can't resist! (classic example- last week He said "mama hold me please?" and I said "No, you're too big, I'll hold your hand" and then he said "But Mama, I love when I hold you!" so I of course swooped him up and schlepped him around on my hip the rest of the morning). I'm looking forward to what this next stage brings--hopefully less screaming in general.

So, happy third birthday Jack! We love you and are thankful God gave you to us!


















Saying goodbye to the pacifiers