And here it is:

We ended our day by going to get pizza with the boys.  I am starving.  Of course, as predicted, the minute the food arrives… Ryan wakes up and starts screaming to be fed.   I have to cover myself in the pizza parlor and feed him.  But he’s fussy, so it’s difficult.  Likewise it’s 90+ degrees.  I am sweating, and I am holding a baby that is as hot as a furnace to my chest.   As I am wrestling him to eat, stay covered, and burp him… the kids are eating pizza.  Slice by slice, the pizza is disappearing.  After 30 minutes, when I have finally given up on feeding Ryan, I have one single piece of pizza sitting in front of me.  One single piece of a large pizza… oh, yeah, and I almost forgot… and the leftover crusts. 

That about sums up my day.

On every level, the kids sucked me dry.  I am done. Hungry… and completely done for the day.

My eldest has a recent fetish with being ‘in charge’.    He tells people (including me) not to ‘boss him’.   He obviously is exercising his newly found free will.   He is also practicing imposing this same will upon his brother.

Justin:  “Andrew, will you come downstairs?”

Andrew:  “I will maybe come, if you ask nicely.”

J: :  “Andrew, will you please come?”

A:  “Hummm….. ask me AGAIN.”

J:  “Andrew, may  you PLEASE come?”

A:  “Wellllllll.   O.K.    But then we will come right back here.  Alright.”

Believe me, he waited to hear that Justin agreed before he even moved one muscle.   Little bossman.

Has anyone seen that Dixie paper plate commercial? 

There are about four moms who are dancing around doing things with their kids.  The first one is spraying her kids with a hose, laughing and having fun.  The next one is painting her daughters fingernails, and they are giggling.  There is one talking about her grandmother’s marinara sauce and feeding her kids.  And the last one is hugging her child on the swing.   

All of them keep repeating that their kids are the most important things in their lives and they are proud of it… and that Dixie helps them spend more time with their families. 

I get it.  No dishes.  More time to play. 

However, they really lay the guilt on.  Every time I see that commercial, I feel like a crappy mom.   Each one of those women keep implying that they are good moms because they don’t do dishes so they can play with their kids.  They state that they are proud of the fact that they don’t do dishes because their kids come first.  Clearly the message is that if you do choose regular plates, and you clean them, you don’t have enough time with your kids… thus, you have not made your kids the the most important priority in your life.  

Ugh.   On one hand I think the marketing campaign is brilliant… one more way to tap into a mother’s guilt - which will of course lead to sales.  But on the other hand, I get so pissed every time I see it.   How do these mom’s teach their kids that sometimes they have to cook.  And sometimes they have to clean.  And just because they aren’t out there spraying their kids with hoses… they still are making their kids a priority.     And frankly, how hard is it to throw a few dishes in the dishwasher?   Can’t that be a time of family bonding?  I know my kids love to use the spray hose on the sink… seems like that might be a way to teach them something and show them some of your priorities!

Okay, I know it’s only a commercial.  But man it rubbed me the wrong way today.  Clearly, I am feeling a bit sensitive.  

I think Ryan is working out his own personal strategy for being a third child. 

He is very calm when he is satisfied.  Extremely calm.   Just sits there quietly, and he is happy to be ignored while I am attending to something else.  However when the mood strikes him… he screams and starts hyperventilating all in the same breath.  There is no ramp up.  There is no warning.  The high pitched squalling just strikes.   Even the pediatrician commented on it!  Personally, I think he is fine tuning this as his tool to get my attention - and draw me away from his bigger brothers.   Frankly, his strategy is working. 

However, he shouldn’t worry.   He is winning the ‘brotherly’ race, if there was a race.

So far he is longer than his brothers.   He is heavier than his brothers.  And his head is bigger than his brothers. 

Help me, I am raising another beast in my household!  Andrew was so tall that people always thought he was older than he actually was.  And Justin was so fat as a baby, that you couldn’t even see his ankles.  And don’t even get me started on their heads… there is nothing ‘little’ about that genetic tendency.   For years, I would get reports from their pediatrician with their weight, height and head size well over the 95% mark.   If Ryan is already competing on this level… I can’t even imagine how big he will be next month.

There is one thing I am certain of though… with a little more weight on him … if he wants attention… there won’t be anyone in the house that will be able to ignore him.   God help us all.

“Anyone out there? ”

That is what I heard in a 4 year old voice at around 9:00 am on Labor Day morning.   It’s our neighbor to our right, looking for playmates.  Nathan calls to our boys, “Kids, get your shoes on!  Aiden’s outside. Let’s go play!”  We all scramble to get dressed and head outside… grabbing scooters and bikes along the way. 

After a few minutes, the neighborhood boy from across the street comes out too… but not from his house, he is coming from yet another neighbor’s house.   “John, have you already been playing at Austin’s house this morning? ”

“No, we had a sleepover last night.  Hold on, I will get dressed and be right back.”  He races to his house, and he and his sister are back in minutes.  Both have their scooters and their bikes, and they are ready to join Andrew, Justin & Aiden. 

Minutes later, the neighbors to our left… Austin, Brian and Carolyn are out too.   Bringing yet more plasma cars and bikes.  

Soon all the parents are out standing in the street too… watching the street come alive with activity.

From about 9:00 - 11:00 our kids took over our block.   Some kids drew chalk paths on the street, and followed them with whatever vehicle they were currently riding.  Some chose to fill buckets with water, and erase the chalk.  And yet others raced around chasing one another.  

Then the whole gaggle of kids and parents decided to move our little block party to the pool.      And 10 kids bounced around swimming and laughing while parents looked on - enjoying each other’s company and the extra day to the holiday weekend.

It is day’s like this when I realize that we were so lucky to move into this neighborhood.  We took a huge risk, and it paid off… 100 fold.  For all the problems that we have had with the house, they have all been worth it to live here.   This is where I want my kids to grow up.   This is where I want to spend my years as a mom.   This is how we dreamed our life would be when we got married and started our family. 

We haven’t even met the families a half-block away yet.. and they have another set of kids in their section of the street too!  I can’t wait to see who’s waiting to play outside tomorrow! 

Sometimes it’s hard. 

I find that when things are status quo… marriage can just be status quo.   You get used to it.  You know the routine, you get comfortable.  And then somehow it slips.  You can find yourself two partners in life, working together… but not really together.  

Then things get harder -  something bad happens or something great happens - and the dynamics change.    All of a sudden it wakes you up, and the two of you start moving in the right direction again.  Once again you are a team.  You can accomplish anything together.  

And then you start to notice the little things that you had been overlooking.

Like the way he listens to music in the car… how his fingers automatically move to the rythem of the piano and are able to play the keys on the steering wheel of the car.

Or how he is present with our children.  He gets down with them and plays, really plays. 

How he makes coffee and smoothies in the morning - despite being in a rush to get to work - because he knows you like it… even though he only drinks a few sips.

And how he tries.  He really tries to be the best husband and father in the world.   Somehow I know that he is.

I am an experienced parent.  I know what I am doing.  I cannot be fooled.  

I know that babies are usually ‘asleep’ for the first 4 weeks of life.  I know that after 4 weeks, ’all hell breaks loose’ until about 3 months.   

So why am I shocked to find out that my sweet baby, my bundle of joy… is now a raving lunatic of a child who screams for long stretches of the day or night?  Why did I let myself be fooled once again?   

Hope may spring eternal, but reality springs up and slaps you in the face.  My baby is getting older.  He already doesn’t fit into some of the clothes that used to swim on him 4 weeks ago.  He already has double chins.  And he already has opinions - LOUD opinions.  In fact, he gets so mad when he is trying to express those very same opinions … that he can actually stand up and hold his head up if he is leaning against me for support.  That is some crazy determination for a 4 week old.

I may be experienced, and I may know what I am doing.  But Ryan has no problem letting me know that he is his own little person… and clearly I will be fooled.

Last night I had a rough night. 

I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep, and I couldn’t.  I was getting frustrated.   I knew I had to wake up soon to feed Ryan, and the clock was ticking.    And I was cold… so cold.  I tried to pull up the blanket, but I couldn’t get warm.  

That was when I woke up.   

My entire dream was about my actual reality.   I had been in bed, and I hadn’t been able to fall asleep.  I had been getting frustrated.  And I definitely was cold.   Then I guess I fell asleep at one point, and continued to dream about it all.    

At that point, I went back to sleep again.  And I had the same stupid dream again.   It was like a record skipping.    I woke up so frustrated because I couldn’t relax in my dream or during my awake time.  I just felt like the whole entire night was Ground Hog’s Day… but in some warped Twilight Zone of Dreams.

At one point around 3 or 4 am, I burst into tears and started crying to Nathan about how I couldn’t sleep and I was so cold.   Apparently I had been sleeping!  So he had to wake me up to tell me that I was actually crying in my sleep!  

Ugh.  What a nightmare. 

Don’t underestimate your little bundle of joy!   He may only be 4 weeks old.  He may not be able to do more than lay in a ball of snuggly-mush against your cheek.   However, he has power within him.

I found that power on the wall this morning.

Apparently the other night when Ryan shot poop all over my hand while I was changing his diaper, he had larger aspirations.   And when he dreams, he dreams big.   He shot poop all the way across the room to the far wall.  

Yup, I was in his room today wondering what that random spot on the wall was.  It was orange.  What an odd color.   Strangely the same color as baby poop.   Wait a minute.  Seriously!?   Is that baby poop? 

I will not underestimate you, Young SkyPooper.  The Force is strong within you.

The scene tonight with my oldest son:

“Mom can you lay down with me for a little bit while I fall asleep?”

“Sure honey.  ”

I crawl into bed with him. He turns to face me. 

“Mom I don’t want those big boobs in my way.”

He says this very seriously, as he takes his finger and pokes at my chest.

This is probably a phrase I will never hear again in my lifetime. 

First because I am not usually endowed in the boob area.   Second because when he gets older he most likely won’t be complaining about a woman’s big boobs.  And third because in a few more months, he will never bring up his mom’s boobs again in public… ever.    

However, it is nice to know that temporarily my large mammary glands are getting noticed by someone.  Too bad he’s four.