One, Two, Buckle My Shoe

Last year around this time I was feeling apprehensive about being the mother of two children.

And when Spencer was born, it was, indeed, an adjustment. But I still remember clearly an afternoon shortly after the cub came home: he and Lucy were both crying. Both sad. Both needing attention. There was nothing to do but scoop one into each arm and sink into the bedroom rocking chair. As I waited for them to slowly calm down, I recognized a new feeling creeping into the corner of my heart. I looked from him to her, from her to him. I felt so grateful. Grateful for two arms. Grateful for two children.

Not that I hadn't always been grateful. We were thrilled when we found out I was pregnant with Spencer. Overjoyed when he was born. We wanted two children (we want ten!). But that afternoon in the rocking chair brought a different kind of gratitude. A comfortable sense of completeness and the hope of normalcy on the horizon.

Now, a year later, two is the only normal we know.

On the above afternoon (last May, I believe), Spencer fell asleep rocking with his big sis. Grandma Truman, who was tending at the time, said that Lucy stayed oh so still and oh so quiet for something like 45 minutes until little brother woke up.

In June, we dropped Spencer and Lucy off to be tended by their big cousins while we attended the temple with a group of family members. After our session ended we called to check on the kids. "Spencer cried for like an hour," my nephew told me. "But then Lucy put him to sleep." Later, I asked her what she had done to help her brother relax. She shrugged, "I just crawled in his bed (pack-n-play) and rubbed his legs."

Of course there is often frustration, and hair-pulling, and unwillingness to share. But the smiles are quick to return. And the laughter! Oh, the laughter is the gladdest sound in the world.