Last Kid Energy (and Emotions)

When I learned that I was pregnant with my third child, it was a mix of “WTF” and “Okay, but you did want this.” I always wanted three.

I’ve found that when moms are polled about what they consider the most challenging transition when adding a new baby, the answer always seems to be one to two. After two kids, what’s another one? You’re a pro by now. So, as much as I questioned my sanity about being pregnant again (with two toddlers in tow), I wasn’t worried about it in the slightest. I got this.

After she was born, I knew that I was done. She was the final piece of the puzzle, and our family was complete. I got to experience all the newborn, tiny baby things all over again, but something always lingered in the back of my mind, knowing this was the last time that I’d ever see “first times” again.

Fast forward to now, that tiny baby is a rambunctious, feisty little ball of personality at just three years old. She’s small but mighty, and she keeps up with her older siblings as if it’s no one’s business. She is the boss, and she knows it.

I do feel like she passed right by some of the baby things; being the youngest with older siblings, they often want to be like the big kids. We skipped Ms. Rachel and went straight to Jurassic Park, Big Brother’s favorite. She never wanted to wear Paw Patrol clothes and refused to wear anything unless it was cheetah (also known as leopard) print. Her big girl bed is even equipped with leopard print bed sheets, and she will tell you that it’s her “really cool cheetah bed.”

It hit me this year when she celebrated the last day of her first year of school. That was the very last time I’d ever experience that, and it sent me flying on an emotional roller coaster (that was probably on fire and flying off the tracks, let’s be honest).

My little lady, my best sidekick, was no longer a baby. However, now that I look back, I’m okay with it. She brings that “last kid energy” to an entirely new level and has us all laughing at her antics on a daily basis.

Now that she’s three, she has decided that she makes all of the rules. This is her world, and we live in it. So, for now, I will live in that world and enjoy every single second of it. (Even when she tells me to “go wait outside” for absolutely no reason.) No matter how big she gets, she will always be my baby. THE baby. My sidekick. My tiny cheetah girl.

I do not doubt that she will never stop reminding us that she’s the boss, and I hope she never does.