WANTED: Extra Large Pickle Jar

I've been having some pickle jar moments lately. Again, my kiddos aren't listening, they're growing up against my wishes.

Capri, who's wanted to be big since she was a baby, is really actually starting to get big - in more ways than just size. Her attitude is changing, she's growing out of the fits (good) and growing out of her little girl ways (bad). She still loves princesses but seems to talk more and more of being a "rockin' star". She's aware of her body, and doesn't want people to see her undress - even Daddy. This one threw both me and Jeff. I could SEE both of our hearts breaking a bit when she said, "Daddy don't look, I'm changing."

Rome is getting bigger too. He's still Rome, one of the nicest kids you'll meet. But he's testing the boundries, he's fighting the power more. He's realizing that he has his own voice.

And then there's Sable. She's the guiltiest. If I had a pickle jar big enough I'd smush her into it right now. I can't quite pinpoint it. It's more of a look on her face. It's coming - my baby is leaving me. She'll be a kid soon. She'll be talking, her hair will finally grow, she'll be tall enough to climb in the playplace at McDonald's. She'll turn 2. And my heart will be broken completely.

As a stay at home mom I know I'm lucky. I've squeezed nearly every possible moment of my kid's littlehood out for my own personal joy. I've gotten to experience it all, but it's NEVER enough. I never feel satisfied.
If it wasn't for this stupid, weak, malformed body of mine I'd probably end up having a dozen babies. And when it was over, when my body finally said "no more for you", I'd still cry. But my body IS stupid and weak and I doubt it could endure more than 4 c-sections. My grandma had five, but she's one tough broad.

So knowing that I can probably only endure four of the dreaded "c's" that means I've only got one left. ONE. And that thought leaves me sadder and more fearful of my kids growing than ever. It makes me want to put it off - wait, wait, wait to have the next. This makes my parents happy, it makes Jeff sad and leaves me in the middle. Numb at the thought of being DONE.

To top it all off, the odds are pretty darn high that I'll be completely done having kids before any of my brothers are even married. That makes me sick. Again I'll be left at the top. When they are all jointly sharing in that joy, I'll just be the old lady. All my future sisters-in-law will be giddy and joyful and friends, and then there will be me - the OLDER sister. Not really a sister at all. Yet again.

It stinks and I hate it. But as far as I can figure so far, there's nothing I can do about. If only I can find that extra large pickle jar. . .if only.