My Kids Need to Be Celebrated; Not Me
“Children are likely to live up to what you believe of them.”
We started our journey wanting four kids; that fifth one kind of slipped in there. There has been no greater love I have known than my fab five. How lucky did I get to be chosen to raise five of the most intelligent, stubborn, fun loving, understanding, compassionate, and beautiful children in the world? (I am more than a bit biased.)
Sure, there are days I feel like I am going to pull my hair out. There are days when "really?" comes out of my mouth more than I can count. There are days I stare at the disaster before me wondering where the imps find the energy to destroy a house faster than a star shooting across the sky. There are days they ask me a million "why" questions, some I don't have the answer, and days when they literally won't separate themselves from my side.
I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. I love the way they climb into my lap (even my older ones to see how long I will endure the pain before they lunge away.) I love my youngest coming to me as the days get prettier asking if we can go for a walk. I love the strolls where we learn about plants and animals, farming implements, why the sky is blue, and how beautiful a sunset can be for the soul. I love that they pull me outside for the full moon so we can sit in the front yard and gaze up at the stars, naming constellations and talking nonsensical ideas about going to Mars.
I love that my daughter, age 20, calls me occasionally to ask "what's up?" I love that she openly talks to me about anything and everything, and we can laugh with each other. I love that she has a spark of my personality, and I smile when she tells me a story of something I would have done at her age. I love that she has gained some independence; separating herself from us to find her way in this world, and I am proud of her. Growing up is apart of life, and I know someday I won't have these moments any longer. They will be independent individuals with less time to spend doing things we do now, but I am okay with where their paths are taking them.
A Recap Of My Fab Five:
Alison Jon Knight, December 11, 1998:
Jacob was in the delivery room, but he had such a difficult time with it he almost passed out. We laughed about that through each of the rest of the babies. You were 6 lb 6 oz of pure joy, and you were the most chill of our five. Your first year, you began to walk and explore the world. YOU WERE INTO EVERYTHING! You were in love with your cousin Emily, and you two were together often. (Even though you pronounced her name E-Molly.) You were terrified of the vacuum cleaner, and we may have made that a game after a while. You called every cow a "horsey-cow," and we would laugh every time. We took you to your first movie the month before you turned 3, Monster's INC, and you set mesmerized at the screen. You did, however, scream when it was over, adamant we needed to rewind the show for an encore performance. We carried you out of the theater in tears. At 3, you poured an entire bottle of Hershey's syrup on the kitchen floor. While the color was beautiful, the floor was sticky for a while. Within just weeks, you filled your long and beautiful hair with Vaseline. It took us two weeks to get that removed, but your braids were absolutely gorgeous. At age 5, you welcomed your brother Ethan with open arms. He was a bit fussier than you, but you took to mothering him without question. As you grew, your independence and responsibility became more noticeable. You were a carefree teenager for me, and we rarely fought. I love that you will call me now with the "what are you doing today," or "mom, I need to talk to you," conversations. One call from you can brighten my whole day.
Ethan Charles Knight, June 9, 2003:
Ethan was the boy Jacob thought he would never have. Ethan, you were 6 lb and 6 oz of absolute bliss, and I cherished the day they laid you in my arms. You kept us on our toes as a baby, contracting RSV on Christmas of 2003 resulting in a hospital stay, and then pneumonia in 2005 for another hospital stay. You were the most logical thinker I knew at age two, everything had to have a reason or a purpose, or it wasn't meant to exist. You were notorious for dismantling different apparatuses; the problem, you never knew how to put them back together. I will always remember the disassembled ping pong table at Kristen and Jack's, a feat you accomplished with all of us sitting there. You were also involved with driving toy tractors all over your Uncle Eddie's 50th birthday cake before it had been cut. Not so funny for me at the time, but hilarious now. You spent most of your days under the shade of the pine trees playing with your construction trucks. You had a mischievous spell as well; licking the top of a paint can, drinking a bottle of peroxide, and eating a tube of toothpaste. I was on a first name basis with the lady from poison control. You too, my son, kept me on my toes. I love every moment we spend together now, and I am thankful you'll sacrifice your time to spend weekends with me. I hope we always have our passion for hiking, and I hope you'll come to me from time to time as you grow, looking for another adventure.
Jackson Thomas Knight, June 16, 2007:
You were my first "early" baby and my smallest by about 1/2 a pound at 5 lb 15 oz. You were content most of the time, but you hated to be around crowds, and your cry would let me know we needed to make our escape so you could have your quiet time. You were attached to my side from the moment you were able to crawl, and making you laugh was the best sound in the world. When you were a year old, you climbed into the shower with me, fully clothed, and set down at my feet. You splashed in the water and laughed, I could not bring myself to remove you from your new found playland. You were very observant, we couldn't move a picture on the wall without you objecting. Your Pepaw adored you, and one of his favorite games was hiding his hat he always wore from you, letting you find it, and place it back on his head. He played over and over in the afternoons when we were there. Dad would laugh and say, "watch this," every time he began to play. You followed Ethan everywhere, and you adored him. You weren't much into snuggling until your younger brothers came along, and then you wanted to be at my side at all times. You are still the one who greets me with a hug and a kiss in the mornings and afternoons, and I cherish these moments more than you know. Your snuggles now are the most precious gifts you would give me, and our conversations typically leave me wanting more. I thank you for every moment you'll spend with me.
Logan Timothy Knight, August 24, 2009:
Logan you were born during a very dark period of my life, but you were the light at the end of my tunnel. You were a beautiful baby with a full head of hair, the only I had who wasn't bald. The week after you were born, I had you in your bouncy seat on the bathroom floor while I took a shower, and when I emerged from behind the curtain, Jackson had sprayed your entire head with Shout. It had dripped into your eyes and convinced you were going to be blind, I called the pediatrician. I overreacted, again... When you were two, you were best friends with Hayden, your younger brother we will introduce in a moment, but the two of you together were like a Texas Tornado in my home. I couldn't keep up with the mess and destruction left in your paths. When you were 3, you broke your leg on a trampoline; a reason we will never own another trampoline. You have always had a wild imagination, you are more self-entertaining than the rest, and I could watch your imaginary gameplay all day long. (Like yesterday, in your underwear and tennis shoes, with a stick, making the "striking" noises to whomever the imaginary threat might have been.) Your laugh is like no other, and I work for those to brighten my day. You are also the one who checks on me, asks me if I am okay, and hates when I leave for another adventure. But when I return home, you are the first to tell me how proud you are that I stood high on another mountain, and you love to look through all of my pictures. I may have a hiker in you, yet, but if not, we will share our other unique connections throughout the rest of our life.
Hayden Alan Knight, October 25, 2010:
I was scared to death when I found out I was pregnant with you. My life felt so overwhelmed with four, I had no idea how I was going to handle five. But from the moment they laid your beautiful body in my arms, I knew you were where you belonged. You have kept me on my toes, your shenanigans rank above anything your brothers or sister have done. But in light of them all, most of them make me laugh. You hid for hours under a cabinet to keep the other kiddos from taking an I-Pod from you. In my absolute panic, I thought you were lost, and after 45 minutes of looking for you, I was ready to call in the army. One noise under the TV and I didn't know whether to be excited or angry as I opened the door, but I was thankful you were safe and back in my arms. Your conversations with me now are intriguing and so much more advanced than I would think they should be at your age. You share so many of my passions, and I believe there is an entire world out there waiting for you to spread your knowledge and insight.