99 pounds of kid

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“99” rolls off the tongue. I graduated in 1999…. 99 bottles of beer on the wall….. Caroline weighed 9lb 9oz….. when she was little, her classmates called her “Nine-Nine” when they couldn’t pronounce her real name. And last week, my kids were playing with the scale and they realized, through some seriously choppy math, that their combined weight is 99lbs. 99. If I held both of them, that’s what I’d carry, and I’d do so happily when necessary. We snuggle and love and carry them for as long as we possibly can, right?

There’s a [super depressing] saying that goes something like “one day you will put him down, and never pick him up again.” It’s a haunting reminder of how quickly they grow. Many folks don’t realize when that day is; it’s not exactly something you put on the baby calendar, but for me, I probably know.

Last week, I made the decision to have a procedure that, while elective in nature, will certainly positively impact my quality of life. I had things made, ummmmmm, smaller that were too big, and had some tissue removed that was just plain-old “in the way” and not conducive to what I wanted to do. Vanity? Maybe a tad, but I did it for me, and so that I could get a reset back to levels of activity from days of “yore” (before two large babies stretched, yanked, and tugged their way into this world). So really for me, it was about quality of life. *I will not get graphic, but if you have questions about these procedures, feel free to contact me. I’m a pretty open book who wants everyone to live their best life, and this procedure is part of my journey.

Knowing this is major surgery, with lots of abdominal/chest work, I knew it would be limiting on my lifting of the babes. So last Wednesday night, on the eve of the surgery, I lifted both my “babies” (all 99lbs of them) into bed and tucked them in, knowing very well it could probably be the last time I could physically do so, at least for a while. Healing takes time, and during that time, they will continue to grow, so I set that expectation with myself and the quiet room unceremoniously that there will be other ways I can “lift”or hold them up, if not physically. Prayer…. encouragement…. guidance…. accountability…. positivity…. setting a good example…. independence.

So while I’m not physically lifting them these days, they aren’t missing out on much, except for maybe a couple grunts and groans from mommy that “ohhhhh you’re growing up too fast” ❤️

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