Weddings and Other Business

Upon trying to make lunch this afternoon, my dear Patrick was underfoot with a grand plan for our day.  "Hey, Mom?" he said innocently, his blue eyes batting.  "When you are done feeding Leo, let's go to my room and get married.  We're probably going to kiss and hug.  You can wear your pink sunglasses if you want, but please brush your hair.  And don't be late."  I tried to keep a straight face, and I agreed.  Find my hairbrush, check.  Locate pink sunglasses, check.  Internally, I rejoiced at the idea of playing "wedding" with my three-year old. 

I thank my sister-in-law for her recent (and gorgeous) wedding and my sister for her soon-to-be (and certainly also gorgeous) wedding for this new obsession.  I should actually thank them that our pretend play extends beyond the limits of superheroes.  I love his excitement about the wedding stuff, and I love to hear his understanding of what goes on.  You see, he has the typical preschool mentality that the whole world revolves around him.  From his perspective, it totally does.  This wedding business is no exception.  He asked his new uncle Justin to buy him a "beautiful" wedding present, specifically a new Buzz Lightyear, because his was broken and only has one arm.  He wants my sister to walk down the aisle as a pink Buzz Lightyear and to have a Spiderman cake.  He is over-the-moon that he was once and will again be a ring bearer (though he has a hard time explaining why a "ring bear" is different from a "regular bear.")  Bless him.  I wish I could bottle him up sometimes.

Life here goes on as usual...just life.  I get a lot of the I-don't-know-how-you-do-it's, which sounds like a toot of my own horn, but it's not.  Sometimes, we barely stay afloat and life here is crazy, but it's really good.  We do it because we just do and because it's all a labor of love.  If that wasn't clear (mostly), it might be more of a challenge, but it's really not.  I promise.  As if it's a choice, anyway?

Work started for me last week.  Baby Hatch a mere 3.5 weeks old, you'd think it'd be harder than it was.  I didn't like leaving at first, but I'm starting to be thankful that I'm doing this now, while he is so young.  Also, I am really starting to enjoy pumping, a chore that I once loathed.  (I recently purchased breast pump accessories.  I'm getting fancy with it now.  True story.)   Also, a friend of mine is watching the boys while I am gone, and she is fantastic.  No, really.  Like, perfect.  The kids love her.  They listen to her.  She keeps the house clean.  She organizes activities for them.  They had a costume fashion show.  She makes dinner.  For us.  From scratch.  She makes me look bad, but I don't even care.  I'd move her in permanently if a.) there was room, and b.) her own child and husband wouldn't miss her.  Considering how fabulous she is, I'm thinking they probably would.  We can't pay her enough for what she does, God love her. 

On to other business, our little William is one month old today.  One month of loving this little guy so much that my heart could explode.  Oh, he's so sweet.  He's still a little petite, but has kept most of his hair (both Leo and Patrick were bald as eagles by four weeks).  I still find little black hairs on his clothes and bedding, but there isn't much I can do.  If it's going to fall out, it's going to fall out.  We'll probably love him all the same.  (I hope you know that's sarcasm.)  He's a good smiler, and though I know many people claim that "real" smiles don't start until at least 6 weeks, I disagree.  He's a very pleasant little guy; a little lover...and really cute.  I was right on with that prediction.  (And I don't care if that's inappropriate to say about your own children.)

Not to leave Leo out, he's still our little brut.  Giant in size and now in personality (and noise), he's a goofy little guy.  His vocabulary includes:

- What is that (What eeess daaaa-aaat?)
- What? (emphasis on the T)
- Look!
- Go!
- No.  (Of course.)
- Baby
- One, two
- Hatch
- Puppy
- Want it
- More
- Me! Me! Me! (said when he wants something, usually a drink of water, while holding up his cup)
- Clock
- Milk
- Watch!
-...and various tones of caveman grunts, which mean anything from "I am absolutely not interested in going to bed right now" to "If Patrick does not give me my Pillow Pet back in less than three seconds, I swear to God I will head-butt him."

In the middle of a disagreement over the contents of Adam's wallet not being disbursed all over the floor, I told Leo that I was going to spank his bottom if he didn't listen.  Looking me straight in the eye, he parked himself in Hatch's mini-swing, so that his tiny bottom was protected, started peeling out the wallet contents and throwing them, and defiantly said, "What?"  It's hard not to laugh at him, but we do our best.  Between his stature and defiance, he's going to have no problem in life...or on the playground. 

And, finally, Adam and I are hanging in there.  There are more naps now than there used to be (Adam in particular is the most tired person I have ever met right now), but we're good.  We start a lot of days with the typical "Oh, look at our babies.  Just look at them.  Did you think they'd be this cute?  Don't you just love them?  Oh, their little breath smells so sweet, " etc., etc.  If anyone witnessed it, it'd be completely annoying, but it's almost a morning tradition at this point.  (This usually occurs while they are sleeping, before the real "fun" begins.)  We're both looking forward to becoming a two-income family again, once that paycheck hits very soon.  I'm still signed up to work part-time, with which I really struggle.  I wish sometimes that there was time to do more, but there isn't.  And who ever wished they could spend more time at work?  (Although, at the risk of sounding like a terrible "homemaker," I will say that I have appreciated some time out of the house at work this past week.  I needed it.  Everyone needs a little time away, right?   My sanity feels in check, and though my social skills still seem a little dusty, I'm working on them.)

So, this is like a true check-in, right?  I feel like I'm writing a letter to a friend I haven't talked to in a while.  I hope I hit everything.  I had other intentions for a blog post today, but I completely forgot them before I sat down to type.  See?  My mind is really going, probably at the same rate that my hair is graying (pitiful, really. Thank goodness for good haircolor.  I'm not that old yet.  Crazy, maybe, but not that old.)