Welcome to Heather Buck
It’s a rare quiet moment in my house as I sit down to write this very first blog post. The usual chaos and exuberance is muted. Atticus is upstairs cleaning the playroom with purpose and as much speed as possible so he can go to his scheduled playdate. Jasper is sitting at the coffee table fully immersed in his drawing of, “water and fishies”. Occasionally he stops to count, “One, three, four, seven, eight, nine…,” cataloging how many creatures are now living in his ocean scape. The twins, Mirabelle and Helena, are settling into sleep for their first nap of the day, their little bit of sleepy fussing now yielding to dreams and rest. And my sweet husband, taking advantage of the quiet, has disappeared into his office for a bit of alone time that he always craves. No one is tugging at me, calling to me, or asking questions so, I’m making a cup of tea and sitting down to introduce myself and my life to you.
These days, I am known first as “Momma”. I am Momma to two exceptionally high energy little boys who are almost three and almost eight. I am Momma to a set of eight-month-old twin girls who want nothing more than to be attached to my hip at all times. I am the person who changes a thousand diapers a day, makes more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches than is reasonable, is in a constant cycle of doing laundry, and is smothered by millions of slobbery kisses on the regular. I am on duty 100% of the day, working 24 hours and it is equal parts wonderful, and bucket filling but on the downside, overwhelming, and tedious. At one point, which seems like a very long time ago, I was also an actor, a daughter, a waitress, and many other possibilities of human. But now Momma to Atticus, Jasper, Mirabelle, and Helena supersedes those. I am theirs’ entirely with a bit left over to be “wife” and the tiniest fraction to be “me”.
Atticus, my very first born, is on the verge of turning eight and has firmly crossed over from being my sweet baby boy to very much a kid. And a big kid at that. What was a chubby little frame has been stretched into a long lanky boy. Gone is the baby pot belly and sweet little lisp. Now he is tall, strong, and independent. Atticus is a ball of exploding energy, never sitting still, and tearing through the house no matter how many times I have reminded him not to run in the halls. He isn’t even still when he sleeps! And those energy explosions aren’t contained to his physical energy. He also has the biggest emotions. Everything is felt very deeply and exhibited in the largest outbursts possible. I must admit, it is a challenge for me to let him feel things that expansively but then I remind myself that I am not NOT dramatic and I’m sure that I plagued my own parents with some very big tantrums and feels. He pours all his energy into loving people, creating the most unusual and imaginative art projects, and roaring as dinosaurs and pretend creatures. He was the first baby of his generation in our family, and he will always be the golden trailblazer who gets do everything before everyone else but also must deal with me making mistakes as his mom that his siblings won’t ever know.
Atty was an only child for exactly 4 years and 11 months when his little brother came along one month before his fifth birthday. Jasper, who will be three on the 11th, adores his big brother and is certain that nothing more wonderful could exist. He does his best to keep up with Atty and, as a two-year-old who is basically the size of a four-year-old (Seriously, he is massive, well into the 99th percentile) he’s pretty competent but alas, he is the little brother and Atty frequently has a hard time dealing with an “annoying” shadow. Of course, this breaks my heart. Thankfully, my Jasper is so sweet and loving that it’s hard for Atty to truly push him by the wayside.
Jasper is my beautiful, giant, Viking child. My mom’s family were Norwegian immigrants, and she was the first generation to be born in the US. We like to say that that lineage is 100% represented in Jasper. I look at him and can’t help but think that he would be perfectly at home on a ship in the North Sea, wrapped in furs ready for battle. He’s rough and tumble, a little boy who bounces back immediately from bonks and who you would never know was sick until he spikes a fever. After all, he has a brother five years older and just wants to keep up with him. On the other hand, he is absolutely the sweetest: so gentle and kind with his twin baby sisters, always wanting to coat me with kisses, and tell me, “You’re nice Momma” (happy sigh). He, of the four, is the one who sleeps in our bed every night and needs cuddles every night to fall asleep. Where, at his age, his brother could not break away from my side to play, Jasper will spend hours by himself playing with wooden train tracks or construction vehicles. He’ll even go into his room and shut the door to play by himself, my independent little Aquarius. After he was born, we thought that our family was complete so, even now, despite him being the middle child, he is my baby and will always feel a bit like my youngest, my special one.
Like I said, Travis and I always assumed we would be a two-child family. Two kiddos for two parents, especially with two high energy boys who are more than a handful, was the ideal ratio in our minds. But…I am innately feminine. Not in a superficial, frilly way, just in a way where I feel deeply, deeply, connected to the female, to the goddess. There is no question to it. And that definition of me was aching within my very, very masculine household. So, somehow, I managed to convince Trav to take a chance for a girl. My little girl. I knew she was out there, and I just needed to bring her to us. Third time is a charm, right? Well, the charm worked a little too well and we ended up with TWO girls.
Mirabelle and Helena are the most fraternal twins I have ever seen. Mirabelle, born first, is blonde and chubby with a long face who looks almost exactly like her biggest brother when he was a baby. And Helena, who is eleven minutes younger has a dark brown shock of hair, is long and skinny without her sister’s delicious leg rolls, and has the biggest, squarest head with the face of Gerber baby. They literally do not even look related. They are squishy and cuddly and beyond adorable and they feel like mine entirely. During the day, when I am alone with them, I forget that I wasn’t the only person involved in creating them but then their daddy ends his workday and comes into the room their faces light up like sun and there is no doubt. My girls are treasured by both of their parents and their big brothers and are connected to each other on a karmic level. My little Gemini’s are going to walk through this world hand and hand and protected from the world by their two big boys.
If you’ve been counting, that’s four kiddos who, in most moments, fill this house with screams, and running through the halls, and general mayhem. This is not usually a calm household and yes, I definitely have my hands full.
I’ll bet you’re asking, “Why in the world, with all that you are already adding more to your plate?”
Well, now that the haze of sleeplessness that surrounds early infanthood has passed, my desire to be more than just Momma has cropped its head up again. And in discussions with my dearest and oldest friends (we’ve been friends most of our lives, we are not THAT old) the solution to that nebulous and crushing desire was revealed. We had long desired a creative project on which we could collaborate, but it never really was the right time or the right project. But now, the moment felt right at last.
Thus begins, “Big Sky and Wildflowers”.