Personal Space

Those of you with small children are quietly asking, "Um, personal space? What's that?"

Exactly.

The mind has a funny way of forgetting just how intensely close and touchy a newborn baby is.  (And really, if you have to be clung to by any variety of human, isn't the tiniest and most snuggly the best choice?)

Before he was born, my personal space violations often had to do with not being able to pee in peace or having boogers wiped on my shoulder.  Not too bad.  But now?  Things are a bit different.  Now, I've got a frequently nursing snuggly little new baby on my person more often than not. Which is manageable, until the rest follow suit.

Because, you see, they LOVE their brother.  And that LOVE is trumped by no other, including love of their mom or dad.  They want to be where he is.  Right where he is. In fact, it seems that the closer they can get, the happier they are.

Which is why I often find myself nursing the baby with a toddler "hugging" him, (or rather, it's laying on him and saying, "awwwwwww."  It's like double-decker boys). Meanwhile, Caly parks herself on my shoulders and Lex wiggles her way under one of my arms.

This wouldn't be that bad if they would JUST stay STILL. But instead, I'm a Mom trapped beneath a squirming, squealing, poking, bouncing mass of children.

I know it won't last forever.  And there's something special about having all of my little ones snuggled up to me at the same time.

But someone might need to remind me of that while I'm fending off small toes from my poking into my ears and dodging flying limbs to the head. And if that person can arrange for me to pee without tiny "helpers?"  Bonus!

Things I'm Learning

Apparently, it's super fun for my 1 year old to interact with his 2 week old brother.

At least that's what I gathered from the giggles I kept hearing.

Then I rounded the corner and witnessed the cause.

Sayer would bop the sleeping Zoen on the stomach.  Zoen would startle and all of his limbs would splay outwards.  Sayer would crack up.  Zoen would relax and let his eyes close again. And, repeat.  Over and over again.

Sayer and I had a bit of a chat about how bonking your younger brother was NOT a good idea, regardless of how funny the reaction was.

Seeing as how I caught him doing it again 30 minutes later, I think I'm going to have to up the bodyguard patrol.

Sheesh.

Hey, Remember Me?

*Fixed to show the picture :)

Right, so last time you checked here, I was griping and moaning about being like, 11 months pregnant.  And now?

I've got the cutie on the outside.

We're currently dealing with our personal episode of the plague, (go figure that their second illness of the season happens to be the week the new baby comes home), but I can at least introduce the little man to you until we're all on the mend.

Zoen Nathanael  (rhymes with Owen)
8 lbs. 12 oz.
Born March 14th, 8:20am

He's mellow and darling and decidedly handsome, (according to his mother).

I'm going to steal a picture that I've already posted elsewhere for his intro, just because it's so blissfully cute and well, to be honest, I've done NOTHING in the way of photographing this kid with an actual camera.

(I know, I KNOW.  Give me a day or two, I'll get back to it).

So here's a flash to the future with baby Z... lots of these grins to come.  (And yes, I know it's blurry... but it's a smile!  Who can resist?)

So there he is, our little fourth born munchkin in all his adorable glory.  I'll have lots more in the days to come... story of his name, reactions of the kids, (they're a hoot!), and yes, pictures.

For now, checking in.

Conversations With Lex

Tonight it's just my oldest and me... hanging out while Shaun takes the other two on a double-ish date.  It's been a bit of a long day, and well, I'm ginormously pregnant.  So, while eating dinner, I remarked to the 5 year old,

"Man, I'm tired."

She grinned, pushed a chair towards me and said, "Would you like to put your feet up?"

Man, the kid knows me well.  But I continued,

"Nah, I'm just going to sleep here.  I'm going to put my head down and go to sleep. At the table. OK?"

"No, no mama, you can't sleep until Daddy gets home.  You need to watch me."

(Leave it to the first born to feel that way.  Caly would have been like, "OK!" and as soon as my eyes were closed, she'd have beelined for the chocolate).

I lifted my head and said, "Nah, you're a big girl, right?  You can watch yourself."

She gave me a look and flatly said, "Mama. I can't see myself.  Not unless I look in the mirror, mostly.  So... wake up."

Well.  Alrighty then.

(Is she my mini-me, or what!?)

For A VERY Pregnant Woman, This Could Incite a Tantrum

A few weeks ago, Shaun came home from work as usual and went back to change into comfy clothes to be a more effective child wrestler.  I heard him start snickering from the bathroom and raised my eyebrows.

I don't know about you, but generally, my bathroom experiences don't involve giggles.

Then he called me in there.

Um, my friends, in case you're not well-versed... being invited into the bathroom by your husband generally is not because he wants you to open the toothpaste.  And if he's giggling?  It's probably not because he's out of toilet paper, either.

But, I was brave.  So I ambled over and tentatively opened the door.  Nothing seemed amiss.  He was standing by the tub in his jeans and a white t-shirt.  Cracking up.

"Notice anything?"  He pointed at himself.

Nope.  He looked as normal as he does every single day.  "Uh, no?"

"Are you sure?"

I stared harder.  Then I noticed that his white t-shirt had a tiny pocket.  A decidedly feminine pocket.

"Hey... hey!  Is that-- IS THAT MY SHIRT!?"

He cracked up.  Apparently, my maternity shirts work delightfully well as men's undershirts.  He wore it almost all day before he got frustrated that it was a smidge too short and then realized it was mine.  Unfortunately for him, he didn't have a more masculine substitute so he finished out the day wearing Liz Lange Maternity.

And weirdly... it looked good on him.

Now, let's not even talk about how it makes the 5 foot tall, 9 month pregnant woman feel when she realizes her 6 foot tall, broad shouldered hubs shared a shirt with her.  A shirt that fits her well right now.  Let's not mention that at all.

At least when the laundry runs low, he has an adequate substitute.  Right?  RIGHT!?

*Ahem*

Now, someone pass me some cookies.  If I'm going to wear the shirt, I'm going to fill it out, darn it.