November 29, 2019

It wasn’t that long ago that I moved through the city –– from swimming pools to playgrounds to birthday parties and playdates –– pushing two children in a stroller with a baby on my chest. It’s kind of amazing to me that my little body was once able to do all that. These days, I can barely lift a sleeve of clay without doing my neck in. But I wouldn’t change a thing. I was a human tree to three orangutans, and I did my best to give, and to absorb all the love I could. Ten years into motherhood, and my children hang off my boughs much less than they used to. The littlest one has stopped wanting to be carried, and reaching into my top. They’re still always within a metre of me, but it’s a lot less physically consuming. Yesterday, I took all three to the doctor for an annual check up and our pediatrician commented on how rarely she now sees them all together. It reminded me of how often I and/or Jason was up there with the whole kit and kaboodle. In the baby years, they were very often all sick at once, or in need of a vaccination at the same time. What was lovely about yesterday, was how I was able to sit back and watch the three of them take care of themselves, and each other. Iole helped Luma with her wellies, and Antimo talked her through what to expect from her booster shot. “There’s so much love between these three,” said the pediatrician. It was the most heart-swelling thing I’ve heard in weeks. They bicker like mad, and they rarely hold hands or hug the way they used to, but every now and then, I too observe that deep rooted love between them, and it knocks me sideways.


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