A Beautiful Day

Why I love Moxie

This couldn't have been more timely. For those who are click-averse, here's what I'm talking about:

This is a special song that I like to call "WhywhywhwywhwywhyWHY????" It's going out to all of you who have a 3 1/2-year-old.

When I let you choose the popsicle flavor you want, and you still start squealing--WHY?
When I vault across a Lego tower to prevent your older brother from taking Mader out of your hand, and you still burst into wailing tears--WHY?
When I give you a hug and kiss and you respond, "Mama?! I *hate* you!"--WHY?
When I'm pouring the cereal into your bowl right in front of you and you keep on whining about how you want cereal--WHY?

Whyohwhyohwhyohwhy?
Why you wanna play me like that, sweet potato?

I feed you, love you, hug you, kiss your boo-boos, divide the cookies into two equal parts so you get your share,
I'm giving up the best years of my life and my stomach looks like it's been mauled by an angry lion from the stretchmarks and let's not even talk about my boobs,
But you just keep on freaking out over nothing and refusing to go to sleep.

I'd send you on a long vacation at Grandma's but she's too smart for that,
WhywhywhwywhwywhywhwyWHY??

Thank you, Moxie.

All those snaps

I'd love to say that caring for all these young babes is a bowl of cherries. But I can't.

It's hard, and I'm tired. My brother's first child was born 5 days after the twins came; she is now sleeping through the night and all reports are that my niece is "such a good baby." I've met her and know this is true. I'm feeling a tad green about that.

My guys - they are, well, colic babies. They were premature and as such, have immature digestive systems. They have reflux. J, the little one, can't sleep more than 4 hours at a pop- and that he does only once a night. After the 4 hour stretch, it's 3, then 2, then 1, then up all day. Z can do longer stretches but is prone to being wakened by his cranky brother. And when they're not puking and arching their backs and carrying on miserably; when they're clean and fresh and pooped and fed, they are without question the sweetest boys I've ever known. They coo, kick, and have started talking back and laughing. And they make my heart melt. But those times- those cooing, clean, happy times are not coming often enough just yet. And I'm beginning to wonder just how long we'll have to wait to enjoy them a bit more.
Because I'm tired.

I met a mom at Smacky's toddler class who I like - we got to talking about babies in general (because what else do I freaking talk about anymore? yes, I'm becoming one of them) and she was sharing her memories of her little one's early days. One comment stuck with me:

'It's some stupid hour in the morning, your eyes are burning, and - gosh - all those snaps'.

Snaps indeed. I can't even count how many times I've snapped and unsnapped only to realize I had done it right the first time. I wonder why or how there isn't a better way to fasten an infant's pajamas and why are snaps the closer of choice? Are they the safest? I have a few zipper ones but they're not much better what with the fabric always getting stuck in there at some point. Why can't we use velcro?

See, when this is my big issue, you know I'm just freaking exhausted. Time for bed.

And - oh yeah - the au pair may be here as early as Nov. 5th. It's looking really good.
God.
Hurry up.

Oh But He Did

My lively 3 year old nephew to my sister, at the checkout line in the supermarket:

"Mom, my p*nis is big."

My sister is too stunned to respond.

"Mom, mommy, mommy mommy- my p*nis is big. It's big!"

My sister, not wanting to squash her son's spirit but at the same time fully cognizant of the need to move this conversation along, tries desperately to think of something to say. All she can muster is,
"That's nice." She tries to hide her smirk but it's too late- my nephew sees it and understands there's power in his words.

MOM, MOMMY MOMMY MY P*NIS IS BIG!

And everyone in a twenty foot radius heard the boy. And so it was that kind of day.