It's amazing how big a toddler's presence really is!

Kaleb spent the night at Frank and Annette's last night so we could enjoy a birthday dinner celebration for Kyle. We went over to their house around 3, hung out and heard about their trip to meet Miss Avery Ann, had some bday cake, and then came home around 5:15, leaving Kaleb there. It is so odd to be here at home without him. He's not even 3 feet tall and weighs in at all of 26 lbs, but this house feels empty without him.

We've still got all his toys strewn all over the place, there are still two larger than life dogs, and two cats, and both of us, but without that little dude this house is just not at all the same. "Missing him" doesn't really do justice to what it feels like to be at home without him here. When it is both Kyle and I home and Kaleb isn't with us, well that is just an empty and very prominent "something major is missing from this picture" kind of feeling.

It is odd to try and think back to the days before Kaleb was part of our family. The days when it was just Kyle and Sarah (and dogs and cats) and only adult stuff in the house, no climbing gym in the living room, no toys and blocks and random tupperware bowls littered everywhere. What did we used to have on our coffee table?? I remember it being always cluttered, but what was on it? At this moment it is covered in board books, one plastic easter egg (a great example of the random stuff toddlers decide is their fav toy of the day), an infant/toddler nail clipper, a baby thermometer, and some papers I need to fill out for day care. The entire house is like that, Kaleb's stuff everywhere, and it is tough to recall a time when this stuff wasn't here and to try and remember what used to be our "home clutter" before he joined our lives.

It is frequently said that after children your lives are just never the same, you become new/different people. I get that but it always bugged me because people could never give me specific examples of what they meant. This is a great example of the implications of that statement. Your home, family, and entire world revolves around this little person who can't really even talk to you yet. It isn't a choice or conscious effort on you or your spouse's part to make this happen, somehow it just gets to that point.

One day you are just the two of you, with full and busy lives that have adult patterns and adult clutter and you are fulfilled and happy. Then, you find out a little new family member is on the way. You make some plans, devote one room in your home to be that little person's space, and try to imagine how you'll fit "parenting" into your already established adult patterns that make up your full and busy lives. Then, little one arrives and those first 8-12 weeks are nothing short of a war zone, with the goal being to get everyone out alive and with at least a little sanity left. Very quickly you realize that a baby needs ALL the space in a home, you can't contain them or all this new baby clutter to just one room.

During these first weeks you are so focused on just surviving that you don't even notice what is going on, how every adult pattern is shattered and new patterns take shape. Adult clutter is moved, shuffled out the way to make room for increasing amounts of baby clutter. You emerge from that newborn stage and start to feel a little more comfortable with being parents, and you don't even notice yet that you aren't the same person anymore. The old you is gone, the old way of relating to your spouse is a thing of the past, replaced with this new (and in my opinion, radically better) relationship with this person. The term "life partner" is so much richer now, you are no longer two people living side-by-side, sharing a love for each other. You are parents together now with a shared focus and a new common epicenter to your daily living, and the love you had for each other has now expanded to include a fierce and insanely strong love for this person you have created and now sustain together.

Then, one Sunday morning you wake up to an empty home. You had a beautiful time the night before, reconnecting and remembering how much you love each other. But, as you sit on your couch like you used to do every weekend morning before baby arrived, you look at each other and say "It feels so empty without him here!" And then it hits you, you aren't the same couple anymore, you are a family now. You still love each other, you still have busy adult lives to live, but it feels somewhat drab and not nearly as important as it all used to seem. And you just want it to be time to go get your kid so your family is complete and your home is full again.

That's what it means when people tell you that your lives will never be the same after kids.