My Hands Are Full

The Baby Blog and I parted ways for a stint while I went off and did the most pertinent field research for it I could think of- I had a baby. My oldest turned five in June, Mr. Middle Child is now three and a half, and in the blink of an eye I have found myself snapping pictures to document my now-two month old’s newest development... smiling. Life is full and crazy and wonderful... and I still don’t have a clue what I’m doing in a house with three boys, yet alone three little ones.

I had mentioned in an earlier post that I was going to keep my expectations rather baseline as we acclimated to life with a baby but I lied. After a month of bedrest, I found myself only three days postpartum with the feeling that the walls were caving in. That twinge of cabin fever led to a spontaneous trip to Target with my brood of young lads. I occasionally reward my children for good behavior in a store, but I have to say I felt I deserved a treat before we even pulled into the parking lot that particular morning. Hitting the bottomless pit of a newborn’s off-eating hour while hurriedly getting the older two ready to head out the door required lightning quick reflexes and meant there was no margin for error. Getting there in and of itself was a small feat. I don’t even recall what we picked up while roaming the aisles (blame it on baby brain); I just remember we only got one item because that was all my cart could hold, already busting at the seams with a carseat and a toddler in it. I also recall that more than one customer looked over at my cart full of kids and commented that I had my hands full. I initially took that statement as a compliment and wore it as a badge of honor.

“Yeah, I’ve got my hands full. But I’ve GOT this!”  I told myself.

Well, days and weeks have passed and I’ve made many more solo runs to the store with kids in tow. And just about everywhere I go, I get that comment.  Boy, you sure have your hands full! Over time, it’s not sounded as cute, as sweet, or as complementary. Most of the times strangers have meant well, but other times there’s a snarky bite to the words as though I got what I deserved for bringing kids to the store when one is crying while another is pleading for snack bars and yet another is informing me that he has to go to the bathroom. Right. Now. (not that this has ever happened, of course). I’m now thinking that getting a shirt made that says, “Yes, I DO Have My Hands Full!” wouldn’t be a bad idea just to curtail anyone from bringing it up again.

It’s with this in mind that I found myself pleasantly surprised one recent trip to Costco. This time with Hubby as my co-laborer, we navigated the store in record time and I parked the double-wide cart, laden in economy size toiletries and children, next to an umbrella-donned picnic table at the deli (which I still don’t understand. Why does one need an umbrella on a picnic table inside a store? But that’s another story for another time...). My husband ordered us supper while I corralled the children and made sure hands were “Germ-xed”. I found myself being watched by an elderly woman sitting at the table next to ours. Her stare didn’t hold my attention long as I was soon doling out condiments on hot dogs, grabbing extra napkins, and drawing my newborn near as his infant-squeak of a cry informed me that he was ready for his dinner, too. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, children happily eating and newborn content that I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to find our table-neighbor there.

With a twinkle in her eye, she leaned in.

“I just have to tell you something.” She began.

I know, I know. I have my hands full. I chided to myself.

“You are SO blessed to have these beautiful boys!” She beamed and gave me a gentle pat on the back. In the blink of an eye, she was gone and dinner continued as usual. I looked over to my husband and we shared a look of bewilderment. This lady was the first stranger to make reference that my entourage of tikes was special and I didn’t realize how good it felt until that moment. A smile crept onto my face that stayed there for quite some time.

Want to make a mom of little one’s day? Don’t tell her she has her hands full. Tell her she’s blessed.