It’s so cute around here I may just puke from all the lovely fluffy sweet n soft cuteness. Screw the chicks, check out my son

I never knew that 4 kids in, my heart could still be wrapped around a tiny baby so tightly it feels like I might just burst with joy

My kids are still young enough that they harbor the notion that I am some how magical. Evidence of this presents it’s self daily. Today for example:

There I am, in the shower soaping up when suddenly the curtain whips back. Tessa is standing there staring at me in all my naked lathered up glory and says

“I’m hungry for lunch Mama. Please make me lunch”

“Um honey, I’m in the shower right now”

“I know Mama but you can handle it”

“I’ll ‘handle it’ when I’m done showering, Tess”

**stomps foot and walks off grumbling** “It’s not fair, you COULD do BOTH!”

Apparently, I should be frying bacon on my ass while I’m showering

Seven years ago, the prospect of showering alone was a depressing one. What good is a shower without someone there to lather you? These days, I’m lucky if I can shower alone and someone lathering me means I soap up the baby’s back and pass him under my arm pits a couple of times.

For those of you out there on the interwebz, when did you realize that you were no longer a rookie at this parenting thing? I can’t pin point the exact moment where it struck me that I was a mom down and dirty in the trenches with poop up to my elbows and sloppy spitty kisses but every once in awhile I have a moment that reminds me.

A few days ago, Levi dropped off the stinky motherload. Having already wrangled that twice in the previous 5 hours, I passed it off on The Hubster. Poor poor Hubster. I’m not exactly sure how it happened but in the end he and Levi BOTH needed a bath and I, in my typical sympathetic spouse and mother fashion, laughed heartily and pointed at them. Karma is a bastard though and nailed me just a few minutes later.

I sat down here at my computer, with Bo balancing in my lap. He was wiggling around as usual when he decided to grunt on out- ON MY LEG. It shot out of his diaper and ran down my leg, puddling on the floor. I called The Hubster for help and as I stood there waving Bo over my body to keep the poop from further hitting the floor, The Hubster was swabbing up what had already splatted. After a quick parent huddle (ok more like we were yelling at each other over what way would make the least mess while the girls danced around us chanting “Bo pooped Bo pooped!”) we decided the best move was for Bo and I to hit the showers. As I walked through the kitchen I could hear barely the phone ringing above the swirling chaos. The Hubster yells - DONT ANSWER IT! just as I use my one poop free finger to hit the TALK button. One would expect a poop covered chaos bogged mother to snarl, growl or yell “WHAT DO YOU FRICKIN WANT?” but no, I’m no rookie. I answered that phone pleasant as pie “Fidget residence how may I help you?”

People often comment on the size of my family, something I find rather laughable as I only have 4 kids- around here, though, that’s a big ol’ mess of youngins’. “Wow, are they all yours?” “Don’t you know what causes that yet?” “You must have your hands full” and my favorite “Why?!?!”

This is why

In the near future, there will come a day when I don’t have to take the trash out anymore. It’s good to start training them young so that day comes much quicker.

My days of puppy kicking and duckling stomping have finally caught up to me. I should have known that such heinous acts would result in bad Karma. Over the last 24 hours I have found a poisonous female black window spider in my son’s crib, suffered from a sudden 10pm flea plague, and ended up with an irreparable flat tire. I’m frustrated and angry and really tired (after having bathed 2 of the 3 dogs at 1045pm) and right about now a good puppy kicking, duckling stomping, spitting on rainbows, and childhood dream crushing session might do me some good. Oh I have a better idea, let’s try to pick out paint for the bedroom because Ive only been trying to do that for two years and if there was any way to make my day sunnier it would be by me pulling every last strand of hair out of my head.

People, if this baby comes when Levi did then I only have 6 weeks to work a miracle in my master bedroom. By miracle I mean moving everything out, painting, laying flooring, installing baseboards, moving everything back in and setting up my bedside baby station. Sometimes I feel like waving the white flag and crying into a bag of potato chips.

aka reasons we should reconsider the whole letting them watch The Simpsons thing:

“Daddy, what’s a drag queen?”

My kindred sister in birth control failure rates is ready to pop! Mothergoosemouse, take cover! This one is coming equipped with some extra bits and pieces.

After two girls, you’ll find raising a boy to be quite a different matter indeed. Sure they are just as cute and sweet and cherubic as their female counterparts, but there are a few things you’ll find yourself always considering- namely that one very prominent bit, the penis, and his partners in crime, the testicles.

Every diaper change you must remember to check his aim before sealing things up or you’ll be in for an unpleasant face shower. Yes, you can tuck it down, even if it’s having one of those “mind of it’s own” moments. Then, the boys always need a good wipe down and remember to check underneath- it’s a wonderful snuggaful crevice for the keeping of dingle berries.

Once the boy is old enough to have some arm control going on, do not be shocked which you open his diaper and he swoops down, grabbing his nuts and peen. He’s not there for a little caress, nay, he’s twisting them violently. You may cringe in pain but this is 6 month old bliss. This apparently continues until his arms fall off, at which point I am certain he would learn to accomplish this with his toes. Levi is turning one in a few short weeks and I am still shocked he hasn’t ripped anything off.

As he grows, you’ll realize that the diaper doings are small potatoes (no pun intended) compared to the deep soul shaking love this little boy creature will lavish upon you. Everyone told me that a love a boy has for his mother is so different then a girl- I should have believed them! To this boy person I am completely and utterly indispensable. As much as he loves his dada, when I am gone he will sit at the door wailing for me to return. He took his first steps to me, instead of opting to run the other way, as both of my girls have. I really can’t even adequately describe it. He needs me and wants to need me. It’s an amazing feeling.

So to you dear Julie, embrace your boy, and if you are done cooking babies you might consider getting you AND your Hubster fixed. Oh, and don’t throw out or give away all your baby stuff when you are done using it- fixed or not that always seems to be the kiss of death!

Producing milk and growing a person is melting my hips and butt clean off my body. Moments after nursing my head swoons and my hearing gets weird. I can not seem to keep up with this double demand. I guess it is for the best. It is making weaning more necessary and it is making me follow through.

It stabs me right in the heart. His watery hazel eyes lock onto mine and he furiously works his wee wittle hand signing “milk milk!” I hand him a cup of formula which he disdainfully flings aside and moans “Anuhnuh! Anuhnuh!!” These breast which were so nourishing, leave him hungry and unsatiated, yet he only has eyes for them.

With my history of preterm labor and now preterm babies, my doctor asked me to wean by 12 weeks. I laughed. I knew that short of leaving the baby at home and hiding out Mexico for 2 months, weaning Levi that fast would be impossible. I’m in my 12th week now and only just this past week gotten him to accept any kind of formula. We have managed to drop one breastfeeding session a day and all other feeds are only after a cup of formula.

These last few weeks my milk was obviously not enough to sustain him as he was waking 5 to 6 times a night starving. Since getting him to take formula he is now waking 1 and on a bad night 2 times a night. And while this all seems like good news, I cry.

Levi is more invested in breastfeeding then any of my other children. Mira weaned herself by now, as did Tessa. They were only in it for survival and once solid food came on the scene it was see ya later lactater! But Levi, dear sweet Levi loves to collapse into my arms and curl around my breast. He pats me lightly and sighs with such contentment that my heart quivers.

Now, instead, it is a frantic time, like he knows that each session might just be the last one. I no longer recognize his scent, it is foreign and changed since adding Carnation Comfort Proteins to his body. Old lefty seems to have nearly stopped producing. Righty is still milkful but her let downs are weak and disappointing. We have come to a point where it is all for comfort. I haven’t quite convinced myself to pry that comfort from his rose bud lips so SHHHHHHHH, please don’t tell my doctor and please tell my uterus to hang in there.

Oh noes! I’ve got THE FEVER and we all know who doesn’t. In desperation he turned to the children, our children, our 4 and 5 year old children…
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