We Get What We Get And We Don’t Complain

Anyone with young ones at home knows it can, at times, be like living with instant play-back. Got a nugget of wisdom or lesson they need to learn? Chances are they’ll throw it right back at you with an innocent face and a big ZING. 

 
Children tend to remember these life gems at the most inconvenient times such as in front of the in-laws, the parish priest or when I’m already teetering on the very edge of sanity - which these days is pretty much any day of the week ending in Y.

  “We don’t say that word in our family, mama!”

“That’s not very loving to our family or to JESUS!”

“Dishes go in the sink RIGHT after we’re done eating.”

“Mama, is your shirt modest?”

 I’ve been caught talking out of both sides of my month more than once by a four-year-old girl with what I consider to be a super-human memory. It wasn’t until the latest Rutchik family phrase was thrown back at me that I actually saw the mirror being held up to my face. I’m usually too busy wanting to stick a piece of tape over the family parrot/eldest daughter’s mouth to bother looking in the mirror to correct physical or hypocritical aspects of my reflection.

 “We get what we get and we don’t complain, right mama?”

 The phrase entered our parental play-book when we found ourselves breaking up one too many fights over who gets to drink out of/play with/wear what under the reasoning of it being one little girl or another’s favorite color.

 Not-so-secretly holding onto hope that baby number four could be our first son; I had slapped down a $50 bill and marched myself into an elective ultrasound room.

 It took me all of three seconds to identify the sex of the little one we’ve all grown to call “baby bubo.”

 Girl.

All girl.

 I’m surprised her eldest sister didn’t barge in the room and reprimand her for her lack of modesty.

 A good mom would lie and say that seeing the life within in her wiggle around on the screen was an experience she’ll never forget or some other sappy, lame and cheesy thing like that. But this mom already has three girls waiting in an embarrassingly messy mini-van with their father. One’s sippy cup of milk lay forgotten on the kitchen counter at home and another’s shoes buried in the sand-box, left intentionally due to laziness on said mother’s part.

 I was disappointed. Not surprised, but disappointed.

 “I hate to tell you this, but its girl number four,” The technician said. “Sorry to break it to you, that’s too bad.”

 I abandoned my pity party and scowled at him.

 “Hey, that’s my baby,” I said. “Don’t talk like that about my daughter!”

 With a scowl on my face and annoyed eyes I became little girl number four’s mother.

 I thought of the phrase I’d been barking at little lady number four’s older sisters all week:

 “We get what we get and we don’t complain!”

 Our children aren’t the only ones who throw fits, whine and complain about the stupidest things.

(shhh! We don’t say the word stupid in our house!).

 Most of the time, we’re upset because we can’t have things we don’t really even want or need and we defiantly shouldn’t care about.

 So, I was wrong and I’m embarrassed.  Big shocker, like that’s never happened before around here.  I don’t know what is best for us – or even what I want. Yes, I shed a few tears that night as I let go of my life-long dream of being a mom to boys.

Funny how dreams can change.  It hasn’t even been a week and I’m already excited that we don’t have to buy anything, that our girls can all share rooms, and that I can give my children the one thing I didn’t have and always longed for – sisters.

 Most of all, I’m giddy that we will continue to be “that family with all the girls.”

It’s special.

It’s odd.

It’s so very us.

 "We get what we get and we don’t complain.” 

We’ve having a FOURTH baby girl!

 

There's always room for one more in our family!