One

Many of you that know me are aware that Randy and I have always said we were a "one and done" family.  When we found out I was pregnant with Keagan we staunchly reported that this was it, unless there are twins in there, this is the only child we will have.

As several of my friends can attest, my resolve weakens every now and then.  Like when a bottle (or 3) of pinot grigio is involved.  Or we meet a new little bundle that our friends have blessed the world with.  Or on a Tuesday.

My most recent weakening occurred last week when a dear friend of mine announced she was pregnant with her second child.  Miranda and I were pregnant together the first time.  We compared notes on our exhaustion, our ridiculous hunger pains and of course our long-lost love of wine.  We welcomed our sons just a few weeks apart from one another (both giving birth to toddlers nonetheless).  We've gone through the infant stages, the "OMGWTFAMISUPPOSEDTODOHEWON'TSLEEP" stages, the toddler stages.  Together.

Seeing that my friend, a woman that I've never "met" but that I've shared so much with was pregnant brought tears to my eyes and gave me goosebumps.  I was so happy, so elated for her.  Enter the resolve weakening, stage left.

I started thinking about another child in our lives.  A little brother or sister for our little man.  Another little son or daughter in our family.  It was a nice picture...a really nice picture.

I know that we will probably never have another child.  Not because we don't have enough love for another child.  Not because we couldn't afford another child (though to convince Randy of that may be another story).  And most days I'm ok with that.  But that picture in my head?  It's a good one.

Then my son comes around the corner, just looking to give me a hug.  Or runs up to me before dropping him off at day care demanding "one more kiss."  Or says in his little man voice "I lub you."  It makes me realize, yes, another child in our life would be nice...but the one I have now?  He's pretty darn perfect.

Where's Your Mommy?

This 4^th of July we took a family trip to the beach.

Sidenote before I get to my story – people watching at the beach?  Priceless.  If ever you need a boost to your self-confidence that is the place to go. Well, there and the State Fair.

Anywho, so we’re at the beach and having a grand old time while I get sunburned and Randy gets sunburned and Keagan plays in the water laughing and giggling and splashing.  We’re having so much fun, our little family, when up walks this adorable little girl, who informs me she is three and wants to play with Keagan.

Mommy was VERY proud when Keagan shared his bucket with the little girl and even prouder when he laughed hysterically when she splashed him with water.

We’re in the water for a good 30 minutes while the kids are playing together when I realize this little girl?  Yeah, she’s all alone.  In the water.  By herself.  No parents in sight.  Three years old, in the water, by herself, chilling with two adults that she has never seen before in her life.

Now, I’m sorry and maybe I’m a little over-protective BUT, if I saw my kid being chatted up by two adults I didn’t know you can pretty much guarantee I would make my presence known ASAP.  Not to mention, THEY ARE IN THE WATER.

But no.  No adult.  Not in the water.  Not on the shore line.  Nada.

I asked her where her mommy was to which she answered “Over there, somewhere…”  I scan the shoreline once again, to no avail.

Now I’m worried.  And I’m angry.  Who does this?  Who puts their adorable little girl in a swimsuit, points them at the water and pretty much walks away?  WHO DOES THIS?

So, while Randy and Keagan continued to play I went up to the lifeguard stand and let them know that this little girl is by herself, in the water with no parent in sight and could they do something about that?  Thank God they are proficient at their jobs.  Quickly they sent another lifeguard out to talk to her and to walk the beach looking for her people.

From our chair I watched as this lifeguard and the little girl walked the beach.  I watched for almost 20 minutes as they combed this not very large beach looking for someone, hoping that any minute I would see a frantic parent come running up to her, clutching her to her chest, half terrified that they had lost their precious child.  For 20 minutes I watched and waited.

Finally they must have found who I can only assume were her big sisters who were tasked with keeping an eye on their little sister.  Not 10 minutes later she was on her own again.

This poor child.  Is this a foreshadowing of what is in store for her?  To walk alone on a beach with no one wondering where she is?  To not be cared about enough to even have a life jacket on while playing in a lake alone?  It made my heart heavy to watch her walk back and forth on the beach with the lifeguard looking for the person that is supposed to love her more than life itself to no avail. 

Selfish as this sounds, it made me realize that I am a good parent.  That I am the parent standing in the water watching over her own, and those around her.  It made me realize that even on my worst days; I’m still a great parent.  I’m a great parent because I know that I could never point my child at the water and say good luck.  I’m a great parent because the alternative is too horrifying to imagine.  If only there were more great parents.