The most common question I get from people now - now that we have three kids - is:
"how do you do it?!"
Usually this comes from another mama, with one or two kids clawing at her shirt.
Usually it's asked with a tone of desperation and amazement.
As though I've found the cure for cancer.
As if having one more child than them has put me on the pinnacle of Mt.Everest.
Because I get it.
I remember when we didn't have any kids.
Those people with even one baby were a strange marvel to me - "how do they do it?" I'd wonder.
Then we had our daughter.
Life tilted to a whole new axis around this wee wonder.
And then I'd look at people with two kids and marvel "how do they do it?".
Then we had our son.
We spiralled into a whole new orbit of craziness.
And then I'd look at people with three (or more) kids and think "they must be nuts!".
Because we always feel a bit over our heads as parents.
Like the under tow has pulled us much farther from where we thought we'd be.
Throw us one more child - and we'll likely all drown!
But every child is remarkably buoyant.
As our third child, (our second daughter), has taught me now.
The third child is the gift of a fresh perspective.
Or, a 'coming up for air' if you will.
Because the first child is really just a wild blur of trying to figure out how to not completely 'screw up' this whole new parenting role.
And the second child is a compound of sleep-deprivation and desperation to just all 'get along'.
But the third child comes right at the moment when you start to get it.
'It' being that these children are growing way too fast.
That you just want to savour and delight in every crazy little moment of every day with them.
That you want to squeeze them just one more time before bed.
Read one more book.
Take one more look.
Yes, three is just as full as it was with one, or two.
Full of the wonderful moments when you wish everyone in the world could just feel this love gushing from your heart to your child's.
Full of the crazy moments when you think you're heart has never been so full of evil and desperation.
Our tiny trinity.
Each so distinct, yet, each united in the love and blood that pulses through us all.
Each child is a new wave of affection crashing over this heart.
My cup runneth over.