life as we know it

Before Charlotte was born, an experienced mother told me that going from One to Two is exponential. I nodded and laughed -- ha, ha! Of course! But I didn't really understand what she meant until Charlotte arrived.

Because when the second one comes along, you don't scale up by two times. You scale up to a point you didn't even think possible before. You thought One was challenging. Consuming. Busy. But now, You with Two laughs knowingly (kindly, tenderly) at You with One.

That was a piece of cake.

Because here you are. Navigating all the emotions, energy and tempestuousness of a two-year-old. While, at the same time, trying to retrain on life with a newborn. Your very dear two-year-old wants to be grown up, and yet she wants to be a baby, but she wants to be grown up, but she still wants to be your baby. She wants to potty train (Really? Right now? Yes. Right now.). She wants to be Outdoors! Running! Playing! Reading! Talking! Learning!

And all of this. All of this is happening at the same time your new baby (your sweet new baby) needs to nurse. Needs quiet. Needs soothing. Needs sleep. Needs to be held.

Oh. My.

Sometimes Ben and I wonder how we made it through the day. We tag team the evenings. (You take Pen. I'll take Charlotte. You take Charlotte. I'll take Pen.) And we reconvene at the end of the night, two people who started a race at opposite ends of the track and finally meet in the middle, exhausted and out of breath. (Phew! How are you? Tired? Yeah, me too. I'm tired.)

But some days, we get a glimpse of how good it really is, and how good it's going to be. The mornings when everyone is up at the same time, and we are all piled in bed together, still in our pajamas, reading books and getting Charlotte to smile. Or the family walks with Charlotte bundled up and Penny running wild. Or the afternoons when we have somehow convinced both girls to nap at the same time, and the house is full with the contented quiet of a family at rest.

These are good moments.

Yesterday, Ben and I celebrated our 7th anniversary. No long-lingering dinners for us (the kind we used to have). It was a frenzied evening, in which I started dinner, then Ben finished dinner, so I could nurse Charlotte, while entertaining Penny, so we could quickly eat, then give the girls a bath, before starting the long process of getting them down for the night.

In the middle of all that, I had a moment.

It was cold outside. But there was a fire in the fireplace. Daisy the Dog was curled up quietly in the far corner. The girls and I were in the living room. Charlotte was smiling and cooing. Penny was organizing a game in which we pretended to nap (I love that game!). All the while, the sounds of Ben cooking played in the background, and good dinner smells simmered.

I took all of this in. This moment. And I thought: exponential. The energy of a full house. The joy of a growing family. The seams of a house bursting with love and happiness. It is more, more, more than I could have imagined. It is better, better, better than I could have hoped.

Me and Ben and our two little girls.

It is exponential.