The other day, the Fricklet and I ventured out to the grocery store (a post in and of itself...) and when we returned, Mr. Frick met me at the door with a nervous expression and said, "Okay, you're not going to like what you see in there."
Of course I pushed him aside (using the baby as a cow catcher of sorts) and burst into the living room. And I did not like what I saw in there.
See, a hugely pregnant summer at home with a non-napping three year old had broken down my Parenting Principles and I'd resorted to small acts of bribery. Namely: Dum-Dums. Dum-Dums, I maintain, are a perfect form of bribery because they're so small- just a tiny amount of sugar that could get the Biscuit to agree to sit in the grocery cart (oh, you would have laughed to see me trying to hoist all 42 pounds of him in there), endure a trip to the bank, or go quietly from the playground when Mommy had had enough. One day I opened the "hider" (Biscuit's word for the cabinet over the fridge, which also contains messy paints and extra Play-Doh) and found that there were no Dum-Dums left, so I sent Mr. Frick to get some more. And because it is Halloween season, there were only bags of 200 available. And because he is Mr. Frick, he thought it would be...well, I'm not sure what he thought it would be, or if he was thinking at all, but he gave the ENTIRE BAG to the Biscuit. And so that's what I found in the living room. The Biscuit, sitting on a pile of 200 Dum-Dums. And so the bribery jig is up.
But here's the funny thing that's revealed itself over the past couple of weeks. He doesn't really want to eat them. He dumps out the bag and looks at them. He puts them into other containers, like the salad spinner, his Legos box, and the baby swing. He sorts them by flavor and color. He opens the wrappers to look at the colors and then closes them up again. He asks you again and again which is your favorite flavor, and just when you think he's going to offer you one, he says, "I will save it for you for later" and returns it to the bag. He carries around little lollipop bouquets, reciting the flavors again and again. He even pretends to KNIT with them, as pictured above. Is the "S" word coming to mind? What can I say but, "That's my boy!"
I have a hoarder's heart. And this first month with the Fricklet has proven that in so many ways. My nighttime nursing chair is right beside the ELFA unit that holds most of my stash, and I find myself gazing at it in the wee hours, daydreaming about projects that I could use it for. And that, for now, is enough. Because my hoarder's heart also knows that every moment I have with this baby, even the agonizing ones, is one I will later pine for. Because the Fricklet is very likely our last baby, I have already changed my last newborn-sized diaper. I have snapped certain little already-outgrown suits on a tiny body for the last time. I have chosen my last name. I have had my last "first look" at the face of a person I made. And I know these "lasts" will just keep coming over the next few months.
Sometimes I catch myself saying, "I can't wait until..." Like I can't wait until the Fricklet truly smiles at the Biscuit. I can't wait until they're both sleeping through the night. I can't wait until I've really got this nursing thing down. And I really have to stop myself from wishing away this time. Because unlike yarn, these are not things you can buy or track down on Ebay. Once they're gone, they're gone.
...but I can't wait until I can get some more frickin' knitting done.