Growing.

I think about when to have my third baby, sometimes.

I think about it when I have two on my lap competing for space and it's squishy. Where would my third baby go? On my head?

I think about it when I'm walking down the sidewalk with two little hands that want to be held. I don't have three hands.

I think about it when I have two kids whining and crying in the grocery store and all I can do is ignore it or I will cry, too. Would a third little wail push me over the edge? Four people bawling in a store is bound to attract even more attention than the hollering toddlers already do, no?

I think about it in church, when both me and my husband have our hands full with a cranky toddler each, trying to distract them, entertain them, escort them out, discipline them discreetly...wait; who's taking care of our third, imaginary kid?

I think about it when people on the outside are demanding my time, and when I'm expecting myself to be something I'm not, and when I'm trying to impress the wrong people. It's then that I'm almost certain I have no time for another human around here.


I think about it in the moments when I already feel overwhelmed, and I think: why do I even think I can handle one more? Let alone the two more we've always planned for? What are we thinking?

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I also think about it when I have two snuggly kids who fill my arms and my lap, content to be nestled into me and each other. There is room for another warm little body in this pile, I think.
 

I think about it when we're walking to the park and two little hands rush up to bring me fistfulls of scrunched dandelions and a confused ladybug...then rush away to find something new. I could have another one here with me, keeping me company.

I think about it when we're at Superstore and going through our happy little ritual of seeing the fish and lobsters, then getting a cookie at the bakery, then saying hi to the dog statue on the way out...and how fun it is. Baby-Rae would love showing these favourite things to a little someone new.

I think about it in church, when my kids are flipping quietly through pictures of the Savior, handing each other snacks and giggling softly at the sheep. My D-Hubby has his arm around me and I just look at this family of mine. I could use more of these kind of people in my life.

I think about it when life is beautiful, which it is most of the time. And how I love my beautiful kids and can't wait to add more beautiful to my life. And how there is so much right about the moments when we are together and looking out for each other. And how life doesn't get any better than that.

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I thought some more about it when I read this blog post, and I sympathized with her when she said that the spacing of 16 months was the toughest.
Yes.
I am just grateful that my 16-month-aparters are my first two. Still makes me crazy sometimes...but not as crazy as if I had a few others to think about on top of it all.


We want our kids close together. We want them to enjoy each other, play sports together. We want them to be close enough to fight and argue...and make up and be friends again. We want them to have to be kind to each other when they see their younger sibling in the hallway at the same school. We want to be young, energetic parents. We want to be young, energetic grandparents! We want to be able to have the number of kids we want before health concerns steal our time.

I know we don't always get the things we want, but here's hoping we get a few of those.

And while we hmm and haww about when to grow our family, the question, really, is more about when we, personally, are ready to grow ourselves...to push our boundaries, to deepen our experiences, to strengthen our abilities, and above all: expand our capacity for love.


So. Am I ready to grow?


Well. Today is a tough day. Maybe ask me tomorrow.

Overall, though, growing is a'ight.
We're usually down with it.

Rented.

I have quite a bit of time to just think while I drive bus. I think about lots of little things, and come to conclusions about the most random and disconnected series of subjects you've ever heard...on a daily basis.

Here's one:

I itch to own my own house.
I want total creative control over the colour of my walls and the light fixtures overhead. I don't want to panic when my kids draw on the walls, or worry whether the landlord is going to let us hang artwork or not. Someday, it will be really nice.
But, I thought, as we moved our furniture around this week yet again...(we do that often. I like to think that it's the artist in both my husband and I that likes to keep things visually fresh and interesting. Or that we have decorating ADD) that there are some things that I really like about renting, too.
I like not having to worry about setting money aside for having the roof redone or the windows replaced. I like that the desire to renovate and update isn't always at the back of my mind, greedy for my extra dollars. I think I like that the most, actually. I often think about what I would do to change the houses I live in, the homes I rent. But I am actually comforted by the fact that there's not really anything I can do about it. It forces me to accept what I have. It pushes me to be creative in my home decor, and not just endure but embrace what's there so that it looks good, all together. I like having to make the most of it. I like that I don't have property taxes. I like that I'm not scraping by, barely keeping my head above water financially because I jumped into home ownership before I could really afford it...and all that goes with it. I like renting. For now.
Someday, we will buy a home, and we will love it. It will be awesome. And it will bring different blessings and different challenges. I will be a happy homeowner.
Until then, I've decided to love renting.
Because sometimes, renting really is awesome.