Tuesday, April 17, 2012

I smile at chaos.

 I sat on my deck, this beautiful, warm yet cool spring evening holding my freshly 2 months old baby, George, as he arched his head back to absorb the sky view. He loves the sky. I watched my bumbling, severely (and unfortunately) uncoordinated, 17 month old baby, Curtis, as he tried to navigate the different porch and deck levels as well as the pot-hole ridden grass. And I laughed as Brock and Fannie scattered from the danger plowing toward them, that was Matt using the push mower. Every so often, I would yell "Tater!" in an attempt to quiet the yappy little Iggy, who feels it necessary to bark at anything and everything that moves after dusk. And I smiled.

I continued to smile when I brought all 3 boys in the house, which created an immediate cause for melt down. All 3 kids were crying. Brock, because he "wanted to mow with daddy". Mind you, Matt was finished mowing, and Brock had long since lost interest anyhow. Curtis' cry was partly due to his obsession and love of the outdoors, the fact that I had to slide him across the kitchen floor with my foot as I tried to keep the dog inside, hold George and close the door at the same time, and partly due to the fact that is was a few minutes after 8pm (his self-appointed bedtime.) George cried because, well, he just cries. Especially between the hours of 6:30 and 9pm. And I had to set him down to deal with other things for a moment. I went to the front door, laughing, to instruct Matt to hurry up and get in the house, as ALL 3 BOYS were crying.

Moments like these I find so sincerely comical. Not 30 seconds earlier, I had 3 of the happiest boys on the planet. The id is strong with these ones.Perhaps, I smiled so much this evening, because, despite an extremely stressful day at work, 2 days really, and soon to be 3, I was greeted at the front door by two little boys fighting for my affection. Both so happy to see me, both wanting to be immediately scooped up before I even get a chance to hang my keys by the door, or set down my coffee mug, purse and pump. I kiss them all, get settled, scarf a bite of pizza and go relieve Matt from grumpy George duty. The infant instantly falls asleep in my arms, and I can't kiss him enough.

When he wakes up again, he is happy. He smiles, and coos, and looks me directly in the eye. George is growing so fast. I am sure he has just had a giant growth spurt over the weekend. He is officially out of 0-3 month clothes and just today, after 2 blow outs, is officially up to a size 2 diaper. And perhaps, the most evidential event of the evening demonstrating his growth, were the giggles he gave me. George giggled on his 2 month birthday. And giggled a lot. Ribs are apparently very ticklish bones. He then proceeded to sleep for a 6.5 hour stretch overnight!

Finally, after two months, he is getting it. He is napping better. He is eating better. He still hasn't rolled over - quite a bit behind his brothers. I just don't think he has the same muscle type, he's kind of mushy. But the previous two months have been busy. George had a clear 'witching hour' between 6:30pm and 9pm. Someone HAD to be holding him, or it was 2.5 hours of screaming, but even holding him didn't guarantee happiness. He still generally wakes up every 1.5-4 hours (he slept longer during his first 2 weeks!) I do think, as evidenced by last night, that this is going to change very soon. Matt and I constantly say, "George is our worst baby." Because he has been. Not to say we don't love him as much (or more sometimes) than his brothers, he is just the worst newborn. The other 2 set the bar so high though, he didn't really have a fighting chance. Really, he is just a true newborn. And I think he is a bit gassy...

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