Rules

Have y’all seen this book? I guess unless you have had a boy recently [or had a friend having a boy maybe?] you might not have come across it. We received it as a gift when Lee 4 was born. Aside from being an awesome color to add to my color-by-numbers bookshelves, I love thumbing through it to see the advice for boys.

I especially love the bits that advise boys to be nice and respectful to their mamas.  I have to admit that when I found out I was having a boy, I couldn’t really picture how it would be to love a boy baby. If we’re being honest, I didn’t really know if I could love a boy the same way that I loved my girl.

Turns out, I don’t love him the same. Just as much? Absolutely. Same? No. I hope to one day be able to articulate the difference, but I’m still trying to put my finger on it. 

I pray that I do him justice in his upbringing.

But if he doesn’t call me on his birthday when he’s an adult, I can always go over to his house, press my face to the window, and ask him if he wants pancakes or waffles for breakfast.

What? Is that bad?

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Honestly

I have felt like whining this week. Summer [i.e. having two babies to manage 24/7] has already blown my mind.
But I don’t blog to whine. Whining is boring to read about, I think.
So I’m coping by taking pictures of MB and turning them into collages with commentary.

This makes me laugh [after the fact, of course] at a situation that was not so laughable at the time. Does your baby have a face he/she makes right before the playing ratchets up a notch into violence? This is MB’s look. The one that says I might need to go to my room for a few minutes.

I have to remind myself daily that even the best two-year-olds are still only two years old. And one day, I’m going to really really miss my two year old. The one who gives more night-night kisses than she gets, the one who, after peeing the floor right in front of the toilet, hugs my leg and says, I love you in the WHOLE WORLD, MAMA. The one who, first thing upon leaving her room in the morning says, I COMING RIGHT NOW, BABY BROWA! Yes, even the one who cut her own hair this week.


Luckily, I’ll have another two year old in about…18 months. Maybe he’ll give his mama a pass on the hair cutting, though.

A Little Bit of Everything for your Friday

I took the babies to the pool by myself this morning! I hope you are proud of me. I am proud of me. Actually, I’m proud of me most mornings that I actually get all three of us dressed and out the door, even if I leave a hurricane in my wake [which is what happens most mornings].

But taking them to the pool by myself seemed very intimidating. I kept imagining how it would all go down, trying to pre-think every imminent disaster. In the end, I just packed our stuff and walked out the door without worst-case-scenario-ing it to death. And it was actually great–dare I say?–even easy.

This sweet baby makes everything pretty easy. I have honestly NO idea where he got his easy going temperament, because Lord knows it wasn’t from Lee or me.

Mary Bullock did her usual pilfering of pool toys from babies whose mothers are more prepared than I. đŸ™‚ She does ask nicely [most of the time] and say thank you very sweetly, but one of these days I’m going to have to bite the bullet and get the girl her own pool toys! I’ve been remiss so far, but it’s only the second week of June, right? That doesn’t make me totally awful yet.

This was our view of the smoke this morning. Just to give you an idea, we can usually see Downtown clearly from here. The view was sad, but the smell was worse. Pray for rain!

This is one of my favorite new shots of Bobo [can you guess who came up with his new name?]. It probably looks the same to you as the other 1,000 pictures I’ve taken of him, but this one represents all the practicing I’ve been doing with my camera. I’m still figuring out how everything works, so I’m always psyched when I learn something new like how to adjust the aperture and the…other…thingy…whose name is escaping me right now. I took these indoors with no flash.


Lastly, if you’re still reading, I read this book this week.

I posted a warning on facebook, and I’ll post it again here: be wary. I had a two-day stress headache from sobbing, and had to throw away one pair of contacts [a second pair are questionable, but I’m down to my last two pair, and I’m cheap and lazy, so I’m going to wear them another week. NO ONE MAKE ME CRY.]

But someone asked me if the book was “more sad than worth reading,” which I thought was one of the more interesting questions I’ve been asked about a book. Answer: Go ahead and read it. But only if you are seriously not A) pregnant or B) immediately postpartum.

It’s definitely a book that I hope will stay with me. I’m not ruining anything you wouldn’t gather from reading the book jacket, but the wife/mother dies the day after her first child is born, before she is even allowed to hold her. It’s devastating. But because I couldn’t dwell on that frightening scenario and actually get out of bed and function everyday, I’m choosing to take something else from it. That’s this: life is too short and too uncertain to spend time being mad. After reading this book and thinking of all of the time I’ve wasted being mad at Lee for stupid things, I feel sick.

And so, my dear, sweet, living, breathing husband: I love you, and I promise not to get mad next time you come home late. As long as you come home.

The end.
Happy Weekend!
PS. Happy Anniversary to my mom and dad on Sunday!