Sunday, July 2, 2017

Hot and Sweaty

It's a hot and sweaty summer day, and a hot, sweaty, and summery time of life.

We were supposed to meet my brother and his family, who are visiting from Kansas, along with my parents for lunch after church, but by the time we got in the van after church, I realized that we wouldn't possibly make it in time, so we came home instead.

I made lunch, and when the boys got to the table, The Dude took a sip of Greystoke's water. And even though Greystoke had more water in there than he will drink all day, he panicked anyway, and ran screaming into the kitchen, where he tripped and spilled his huge cup of water all over his sister, who had been happily chewing her fingers in the pretty pink dress I bought her the day I found out that she was a girl.

She thought she must have been mortally wounded, I have never seen her so distraught and pathetic. I couldn't calm her down at the table like I usually can with the pacifier and a snuggle, and besides, her dress was soaking wet, so I brought her upstairs to change her and put her to bed.
While I was up there, Greystoke ate all the ham out of my sandwich.
They were done with lunch and heading up to play "taco" which involves wrapping each other in blankets and rolling around, by the time I got her to sleep. They will probably wake her up in a couple of minutes.
But I did manage to sneak a couple of m&ms from the stash I keep hidden in my room for those moments when I need a pick me up. I bought them more than a week ago and they are running dangerously low.

But the benefit of being on the 4th kid, is that I don't really freak out a whole lot about anything anymore. Because I just don't have the time or the energy to be getting my blood pressure up every time everything falls apart. I have learned to take a deep breath, and shrug my shoulders instead of freaking out.

Since I started typing this, the taco game ended with the oldest boy yelling "shut up!" for which he was banished downstairs with me. Except that the reason he was yelling shut up was that the middle boy was calling the younger boy a "pinhead". Where did he even hear that word?
I will be honest, the fights get me the most. But I have also learned to stop catastrophizing those too. Boys fight. Siblings fight. Kids can be really mean to each other. You deal with it, and you move on. They are learning and growing every day.
And when the 6 year old spills his smoothie after dinner at the very same moment the 3 year old comes out of the bathroom having attempted to wipe himself....
You remember that these things have happened before, and nobody actually died.
And somehow  it all gets cleaned up, and everyone is ok, and everything is much better afterward if you did not completely lose it in the middle.
It's hot and sweaty. We have been busy. Aquaman had camp this week which meant a lot of driving back and forth to the college campus where it was.
The extended family visits have begun, which is one of the best parts of summer, but definitely ups the chaos.
Scarlett had her 2 month checkup the week before last, and was pronounced "on the border of failure to thrive". Which is crazy. I mean she is delicately built, her bones are smaller, she definitely feels thinner and less sturdy in my hands than the boys did, but I kind of thought that was just normal.
(Here is Greystoke at just under 2 months)

Anyway, when you look at the baby and not the numbers, I think it is pretty ridiculous. She is happy, she is full of energy, she is developing well, and she does not look that thin to me. She is just long.

But regardless, it has messed with my head. They told me to start feeding her more, and since I started that, she has been gassy, and much more irritable, and even more spit uppy than usual, and her sleep has gone right out of the window. Not to mention my shattered confidence...I felt certain I knew what she wanted 2 weeks ago...she was, awake, sleep....if she cried 45 minutes after eating, I knew she was sleepy, gave her her pacifier, and put her to sleep. If she didn't go to sleep and kept arching her back, I knew her tummy hurt. Now I don't know. Now I wonder if she is hungry, and try to feed her, which sometimes puts her to sleep and sometimes makes her more upset.

Granted, some of it is probably just her getting older. She is smarter, she knows the difference between me and the pacifier. She is a wiggly and strong little thing. She is emotionally relaxed like Greystoke was, but not nearly so physically relaxed. She is ready to get into things. She is ready to go.
But other than the back of my mind worry that I am somehow starving her, and other than the fact that her upset belly and messed up routine have meant not a whole lot of sleep, things are going great.
Things are summery.
The boys are loving their summer. They never stop talking and moving and fighting.
We haven't done a lot of schoolwork at all this summer, which makes me feel guilty about the summer slide, being that The Dude was having so many struggles as it is.
But they needed a detox, and he did especially.
Well\, I just had to put Scarlett back to sleep. The taco game is definitely over. The boys are talking about having boiling hot soup in their pants for some reason. I think I am going to give them all haircuts and then take them to the pool.
Hopefully I will get to the bathrooms because for heaven's sake, they need some attention.
But if I don' one will actually die.
But someone might if I don't interrupt their argument and give them some attention.

No comments:

Post a Comment