A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2014.
Harry :: Lunch together before Daddy headed out of town to work… But the cars were more interesting.
Wyatt :: Always eager to hold and kiss his baby brother. The little one doesn’t know how lucky he is…
Flynn (& Harry) :: Early morning builders.
Belly :: Sharing mummy.
Sharing with kids is such a funny thing. We tend to focus on it when it comes to stuff. Toys, food, swings… But it’s so much bigger. When I went from one to two children, I remember getting the question ‘are you worried about the next one (or the older one) not getting enough attention?’ I wasn’t really worried, and trotted out the standard ‘sure there’s less of me, but they have each other‘ line (which is true! And awesome). Truth is, from the beginning, even with just one of them, we share our relationships. I now shared my husband with my son, then sons, he shared me with them, we share them with each other, we all share with each other. I feel like, more so than the other two, Flynn is going to struggle with sharing with a baby, but still, it’s a necessary (and exciting) thing to learn. Adding another to the mix brings another dimension to this colourful prism of shared relationships. And in some (heartbreaking, encouraging) ways, I suspect it’s also a training ground for learning to grow apart a little as the kids grow up. We are never fully theirs, they are never fully ours (although at the same time, we give ourselves over completely).
I am so thankful that we have the privilege of sharing them.
(Linking up with Jodi, from Practising Simplicity).