All of my kids are in gymnastics. I just put Lincoln in. They don't really do much when they are four years old, but his siblings are doing it, and I knew he would feel so big and so excited to do something like them. He loves it! Lincoln is in a little gym separate from the big kids. In order to see him, you have to sit on a bench and look through a window. I went the first time, excited to watch him. All of the other mothers there were younger than me. It was their oldest child in the class, as opposed to their youngest, like me. I was the last one to take a seat in the little area where where we could see our kids. As I approached, I saw that the girl on the end was holding a baby. Then I looked at the next mom, and sure enough, she was holding a baby, and the next one and the next one. Well, there are only 6 kids in the class and every single mom (except me, obviously) was holding a baby. I just stopped for a second and thought, "Seriously?" I know I am in UT county and all, but.... seriously? I was having a good day and wanted to be brave and sit down next to all of these moms with babies in tow. I didn't really want to sit by them, but there was no where else to sit where I could see Lincoln, and I felt like I could do it. I sat down. No one knew each other. They all started chatting and getting to know one another.
Oh, what's your child's name. How many years apart are they? Where do you live? etc. They ended up talking about their pregnancies and and babies and how this one slept and this one didn't. They were excited (or not) about the crawling stage and all seemed very concerned about their oldest and baby getting along with each other. I felt a lot older. A lot older. Not just because I was. I wanted to say "old people" things like: This too shall pass. It is only a phase. (Which I knew were true statements because I used to have two little kids. I remember when Katelyn was 2 1/2 and Ethan was a baby. Time has given me more perspective). I also wanted to say a grieving mother phrase like: stop whining about your baby that is alive. As they sat there, innocently talking about their babies and pregnancies, I wondered if I would ever be part of that kind of conversation again? The kind where you talk about how much you hate your stretch marks and how fat you got and what kind of food you ate while you pregnant, How sick you were (but inserted the caveat that you knew the sickness was "worth it"...). I decided I probably wouldn't be part of that conversation again because pregnancy and babies will always mean something different to me. It doesn't mean I will always hurt, but I will always see through a different lens. That is going to leave me out of a lot of conversations around here. Maybe I should move into a retirement community?
They talked and talked about the baby stage and how tired they were and how they wished they didn't have to hold their baby all day. I understand that this is where conversations go. It is the only thing they have to talk about. I didn't enjoy the conversation I had to overhear, but it was tolerable. I was surprised I could sit there on that day. Well, I only sat there for half of the class before I got up, but that was still a big deal for me. No one talked to me, and I didn't talk to them, and it was just as well because I'm such a sucky liar.
I was in a store the other day and a toddler wanted to be held. Her mom said, "I carried you for nine months while I was pregnant. Then, I carried you for 9 more months while you learned how to walk. I am not carrying you anymore." Well, lucky you. At least you get to pick if you carry her or not. It is so difficult for me to hear things like this. I wish people would talk softer.
Yesterday we went to gymnastics and it wasn't as good as day as last time. The conversations continued. Then, one of the babies threw a pretty large tantrum. I'm not sure if you can call it a tantrum when they are a baby, but this mom did. This baby couldn't have been too old. He couldn't walk. I'm not even sure if he could crawl. His mom just laid him in the hard floor and let him scream for awhile while he writhed around. He had quite an awful cry. I wasn't sure how long I could sit there and "not watch" that go on. I'm sure this mom was rightfully tired. She was pregnant (of course) and looked exhausted. Maybe both of her kids had been screaming all morning and she was done. I get it. But, it was still hard to witness. I wanted to grab her shoulders and tell her to pick up her baby. I wanted to pick up her baby. Not really, but I thought someone should! It was horrible. I did leave at that point. I decided I am going to bring headphones next time and listen to music while I watch Lincoln.
