Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen? Maybe something like that. But I’m thrilled about a second baby, never mind that it’s so soon. I wanted more than one, remember? And the first one is adorable–a handful, a little firecracker, and so smart. I try to toilet-train him before the new baby comes. He walked at nine months and talked at a year. Surely, he can be potty trained, so I won’t have two in diapers.
We move to a small rental house so we’ll have more room, but we don’t stay there very long. We find a house that costs about what an inexpensive car costs these days, and we move again. This house has more space and a huge backyard with a playhouse. Convenient to the hospital. Perfect for a growing family.
I am three months away from my twenty-fifth birthday when the second baby comes. Older baby is twenty months old. The potty training works–until #2 comes. So we have diapers for two, after all. These were cloth diapers, my friends.
The grandmothers have learned their lesson. This time, they hire a nurse to live in for a couple of weeks. This is the cultural norm in the Mississippi Delta. I’m a hill-country girl. I never heard of such. I dont like having somebody else underfoot in my house. My husband, who is now in his last year of medical school, hardly breaks his stride. When I start running a high fever, I drive myself to the doctor. The new baby is a week old. (New moms didn’t drive for three weeks back then.) It turns out that I am seriously ill, and once again, the grandmothers step in. My mother takes the older boy home with her, and my mother-in-law, God bless her, comes to stay with us until I’m better.
Once I’m well, I’m on my own with two babies much of the time, but I don’t mind. This is what I was meant for, remember? I am astonished by these two little boys we have made. I am tired and sleepless, but full of wonder.
Everything seems just about perfect. A house, an ambitious, smart husband, two beautiful children. But things aren’t always what they seem. I won’t tell you that story yet. That’s for the twenty-fifth post, the last of these memoirs, and a good launching point into what would become my future.
First–a look at the little boys:
Proud grandparents. Happy mother. Happy, healthy little boys.
It’s a good thing, isn’t it, that we can’t always see what’s coming.
Gerry Wilson 
Yes, it is a good thing we cannot see life that is coming our way. It is also a good thing that there are blessings that encourage us in our progress and I can think of nothing better that beautiful babies.
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There’s nothing like those babies. And the grandbabies, too. As someone else suggested here, we don’t have to be grownups with them. We can get down on the floor and play with them and feed them ice cream. But we will always carry them in our hearts, won’t we? Blessings to you, my friend.
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I had two under two just months before my 24th as well. 13.5 months apart. Nearly twins. And they are still close. And I’m still exhausted. And still amazed. Those boys are definitely wonders to be amazed at.
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Wow! You did have twins the hard way! I’m still amazed too. And exhausted. (We just had a three-year-old here for a week.) The grandchildren? Something else again. Thanks for continuing to read and comment. I really appreciate it. I don’t know what I’ll do without the challenge to keep me going here.
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So there you go…my eldest two are 18 months apart. Have to laugh, our lives were so similar in our 20’s. Love it. Hope you don’t stop after the 25th post. 🙂
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It’s interesting that several of us have discovered how much we have in common. Doesn’t it make you wonder if those similarities have brought us to this point in our lives–as writers, artists? I don’t know about continuing! It’s been a remarkable experience for me. I’m about to get to some tough things, though, so maybe it’s good that the challenge is coming to an end. Thanks for being a faithful reader, Veronica!
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What adorable pictures. And you have captured so well the wonder of those early years of motherhood.
Jane Ann
http://www.janeannmclachlan.com
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They were wondrous and sometimes scary years. Looking back, I’m not sure what kind of mother I was. I tended to play instead of doing the housework, though!
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Cute! Love the red cowboy hat!
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Would you believe I still have that hat?
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Would completely believe that!
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Look at those blond heads and rosy cheeks! What cuties.
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