During Drew’s entire infancy, I was the light of his world. He clung to me, and although it was at times exhausting, I secretly enjoyed the fact that when I went to get him from his crib, his arms would swing ecstatically and the most exuberant smile would break out all over his face. Drew was infatuated with me. Naturally, when BA was born, I expected the same. But the apple of BA’s eye is not me — it is his beloved big brother Drew.

From his first days, BA has intently watched his sibling.  As BA developed, the intent stares changed to laughs and chuckles and antics and an obsession with Drew that has put me firmly in second place.  Sure I provide BA with food and he’ll throw me a smile, a laugh, and sometimes even a squeal of joy, but if big brother is anywhere nearby, his attention is quickly redirected.  It’s gotten to the point where he will fuss and start to cry if he can hear Drew in another room, but he can’t see him.  BA won’t nap if Drew is anywhere around, and toys become useless accessories if big bro strolls by.  I guess I half expected that this might happen, but what has really surprised me is that Drew is just as enthusiastic about his baby brother.  Suddenly, Drew has a undivided audience, and he absolutely loves it.  “Mommy, how about Baby A watch me racing cars? Mommy, how about Baby A pway wiff me?  Mommy, how about Baby A watch me pway baseball?”  (Everything Drew says these days begins with ‘how about…’)

Yesterday, I watched the funniest scene unfold.  BA was in his walker in the living room, but Drew decided that he wanted to show BA his room (as if BA hadn’t ever been in there before).  Drew knows he is not supposed to push or move BA while he’s in the walker, so he stood in front of him calling him as if he were a puppy till BA scooted towards him.  If Drew noticed that BA wasn’t going in the ‘right’ direction, he would say, “OH, Baby A, are you stuck?  Let me help.” And he would reposition BA to head where he wanted him to go.  Finally, they reached Drew’s room, and I heard him say, “Look BA, this is my room.  Here’s my bed.  Here’s my toys.  Look over here at my train.”  The whole time, BA, in true second child form, went smilingly along with his elder brothers manipulation.  I was amazed.

Before parking, I swung through the Chik fil A drive thru.  I had a coupon.  I am madly in love with CFA coupons.  It’s the only fast food Drew will eat, so it makes an easy, inexpensive meal that I do no have to make or clean up after. It’s a beautiful thing.  The coupon was for buy one get one chicken sandwiches and I added fries and a strawberry shake to the order in honor of our train chasing adventure.

Once parked, I invited Drew to join me in the front seat, and I wrested Baby A from his carrier to sit with us as well.  Drew went straight for the fries, requesting bbq sauce for dunking, and I unwrapped the scalding chicken sandwiches holding them in front of the AC vents to cool them enough to eat.  I had pictured this whole scene as a wonderful and peaceful bonding experience – the three of us enjoying an easy meal while watching the lengths of a freight train disappear into the setting sun.  But sadly, my imagination forgot to consult reality.  My imagined version of this event did not include a bouncing two year old and buttons and gears and bbq sauce and a strawberry shake with whipped cream and my arms too full with a four month old and scalding chicken sandwiches to halt the freight train of a mess that was about to rock my poor car.  Next time we train watch, Dennis the Menace WILL BE firmly restrained in his seat.

Well, we ate, then I cleaned up the bbq sauce, then the whipped cream, then the bbq sauce that was spilled while I was cleaning up the whipped cream, but still no train.  It was almost time for Baby A to eat so I reluctantly strapped the kiddos back in and headed out of the parking lot.  Just as I pulled out, a horn blared, and I looked up to see a big yellow CSX engine hauling a never-ending line of cars.  I yelled for Drew to look and heard the gasp of awe come from his seat.  The road I was on ran parallel to the tracks, so we ‘raced’ the train for a few blocks till we hit the section of tracks we had to cross to get home.  Then we sat with dozens of other cars waiting and watching the massive line steam by.  Drew pointed and named every train car he knew amidst exclamations of “Mommy, look at the wheels!” and “Mommy, it’s a train!”.

“Yeah, Buddy.  It is.”  Sadly, Baby A just screamed.  Evidently he was not satiated by the bbq sauce that I’m pretty sure he sucked off my finger during the whole feeding fiasco, and he was not impressed by the train that he could only hear but not see.  Several minutes and dozens of cars later, the final boxcar crossed the street and echoed into the distance.  It had been a long one, but it wasn’t enough for Drew.  “Follow it, Mommy?  Follow the train, please, Mommy??”

“Sorry, Buddy, we can’t do that tonight.”  I think he just might have a future as a South Florida Train Chaser.

I realize blog entries usually have a general focus, but for today, I’m just going to talk about today.  Oh, where to begin…

I ran for the first time today in over a year.  I would have laughed at my sad little attempt, but that would have required me being able to catch my breathe.  Drew piped up from the stroller, “Mommy, what are you doing?!”  He was amazed to be moving at anything faster than a saunter.  The bad news is he will probably now expect me to run all the time.  Nothing like a toddler to hold you accountable.

Once home, I showered while Drew watched the second half of Nemo and Baby A dozed in his swing.  Yes, Drew has a little sibling now.  The last time I posted, Baby A was not even a twinkle in our eye.  Actually, that’s not quite true – we were wanting another, but were struggling.  But that’s for another post.  Baby A’s birth is for another post too.  Man, I need to keep blogging – I have way too much to write about.

In the shower, I once again lost the equivalent of a long-haired chihuahua from my locks.  I am hoping this postpartum hair loss ends soon before I have to opt for extreme measures.  Once out of the shower I chose a skirt and tank top rather than my usual sad t-shirt and gym shorts.  I had worked out; I was feeling good.  And I thought it would be nice to look attractive decent when Dr. Daddy arrived home.  I tried to ignore the bulge I saw in the mirror.  Oh, that wretched bulge!  You’d think I was pregnant again -

Sadly, the outfit only lasted an hour or so.  Baby A hit me with poop soup, and I was forced to don the sad t-shirt and gym shorts again.

I spent much of my afternoon playing with the boys.  They are so much fun.  Even though Baby A is only four months old, Drew loves playing with him.  And Baby A is fascinated with Drew.  It’s an amazing phenomenon to watch.  I should have been working instead of playing, but I am so over work.  Work is always there.  My boys won’t always be here.  I cannot even handle that thought…

This post is so dull and boring.  It sounded much wittier earlier this afternoon when I mentally wrote it.  At that time, I still had some caffeine running through my veins.  But now, the clock has just crossed over 10 pm, and if I don’t hit the sack, I will not be functioning tomorrow.  For today, I’m back.  I hope to see you tomorrow -

1.  Eating only almonds during South Beach Diet, phase one is not at all effective.

2.  Pointing fingers during an argument always makes the situation worse.

3.  When living with a toddler – the real mess is always being created while the decoy mess is being cleaned up.

4.  Playgrounds in South Florida in April can be dangerously hot by 10:30 AM

5.  Change poopey diapers immediately

6.  Watching temper tantrums from an undisclosed location can be more entertaining than a blockbuster film.

7.  Hope deferred makes the heart sick – Proverbs 12:13

8.  Our future hope should place us in submission to the will of God.

9.  I have the best husband in the world.

10.  I don’t tell my husband that he is the best often enough.

11.  The five second rule cannot apply to my kitchen floor in its current condition.

12.  Fire ants are bad and should all die.

13.  A hard day’s work that is dreaded beforehand can be very fulfilling afterwards.

14.   My son thinks his name is baby. (We are now working to correct this)

15.  A few intimate, quiet moments with my family can wash away a week’s worth of hardship.

This Easter morning at church, we sang “Worthy is the Lamb” again.  And I was again reminded of the absurd love of the Father God.  My entire maternal being revolts at the thought, yet at the same time, I stand in stupified awe.  Over the course of my single life I’ve had a few moments that I have naively claimed as “Abraham and Isaac” moments.  Times when God called me to sacrifice the thing I most loved or most wanted for His Glory, and on several occasions (including my relationship to Dr. Daddy) God has provided the ram in the bushes and given me the things I love back with an even a greater love for Him.  Since Drew was born, however, I’ve realized how far off I was to ever consider those as Abraham/Isaac moments – none of those circumstances ever required me to sacrifice my son – to give him up or to watch him suffer.  How did Abraham do it?  How did God do it?  My ferocious maternal love that wants to throttle the kid who pushes Drew down at the playground seems a force too strong to ever sit by and watch my son suffer and die.  But I guess that just exaggerates the greatest paradox of the Greatest Love of all.  I cannot fathom it.

Oh the Wonderful Cross, O the Wonderful Cross

Bids me come and die to find that I might truly live.

Happy Resurrection Day!

First Public Vomiting Experience

First 30 Minute Temper Tantrum

First Time Baby Grabbed a Sharp Object from the Counter (and mom’s frantic reaction)

First Time Watching the Wiggles (umm…are you serious?!)

First Mad Dash through the House Chasing Baby with a Diaper Blowout

First Object Flushed Down the Toilet

Baby’s First attempt Eating a PB &J

First Emergency Room Trip (haven’t had this yet, but I KNOW it is coming)

First Time Baby Runs Head First into a Wall

First Time Baby Tries to Boss Mommy Around

First Time Baby eats a Rock

Any all the other firsts that I’m sure are coming…

*Note: I had more I was going to add to this post, but I had to run to stop Drew from eating my chapstick – where he got it, I have no idea.  Instead of delaying another six months before posting, I decided to simply put this up as is.  I figured you’d get the general idea…gotta run

During the school year, I am/will be babysitting for a friend who has a six month old little girl. It helps them out and us out, and it gives Drew a chance to try out the sibling experience. Right now, he’s not doing so well…but I’ll save that for another post.

Anyway, back to my harrowing tale -

Both babies took a gorgeous two and a half hour nap this AM, so I figured they would be well rested and happy to take a quick jaunt to the store. Although going out with two is much more difficult than just one, I’ve determined to occasionally attempt it in order to maintain my sanity, give them a change of scene, and to practice before any potential offspring arrive. So, we headed to Toys R Us to pick up a few things for the Birthday Boy (Drew turns one tomorrow!).

Shopping went fairly well, even though I couldn’t decide between some things. I solved that dilemma quickly by just purchasing all conflicting items. It was the obvious thing to do…of course. When we hit the checkout line…bad things began. One cashier open, three people in line all being held up by one couple arguing over a sale. Is there a manager in the house?? The poor cashier called for one three times before someone finally responded. During this time, Drew tried to push little Ana out of the shopping cart – what a good big brother he’ll be someday, don’t you think?

I grabbed him quickly while the woman in front of me checked out. Then it was my turn. Ana was in her infant carrier in the back of the cart. The toys were piled below, and my diaper bag with wallet was below Ana – and Drew was in my arms. Thus began a juggling act worthy of Barnum and Bailey’s, complete with a briefly misplaced wallet and price check on a set of plastic construction trucks. Finally rung up and loaded, I headed for the door only to discover that Tropical Storm Faye-that-won’t-go-Away had chosen to drop another lovely rain band on our area. Just perfect – Ana ended up getting only a little wet, Drew slightly damp, the gifts would need some drying off, and I…well, I needed a change of clothes.

In the car, I checked the receipt and realized that two items had rung up wrong even though I had pointed it out to the cashier as she was ringing them up. She had said, “Oh yeah, you’re right.” But she never changed a thing. Oh the agony of that internal debate – face Faye again while hauling merchandise and two infants or eat the overcharge. Looking at the already high total, and imagining my husband’s expression when he saw it, I knew I had to go back. Ugghhh – I tromped in and a mere twenty minutes later, I deposited our soggy selves back in the car.

At home, I pulled into the (unconnected) garage while trying to formulate my exit strategy. Both kids were ready to go straight down for their PM nap, so I decided to take Drew, who was still awake, in to bed first and then come back quickly for Ana. Our garage smelled like gas fumes from the supplies we had ready in case Faye wiped out our electricity, so I didn’t want to leave Ana there for long. We went swiftly in and up to bed, but just as I was laying Drew down, I heard an awful noise…and then I felt it on my arm…and then I smelled it. He had just vomited what looked like his whole lunch (thus, the now grotesque title of this post). Never in his entire human existence has he ever done that. No, he’s been saving it all up for today. So, brief recap – Ana in the car, fumes in the garage, Faye outside, and vomit boy in my arms. Nothing to panic about – AHHHHH!!

I ripped Drew’s clothes off, wiped him down, dropped the poor boy in his bed, and ran to rescue Ana. She was completely fine, sleeping blissfully, but woke up when carried through the rain to the house. With her down for a nap, I tackled the carpet in the bathroom which had taken a hit when I pulled off Drew’s clothes, and then noted that once again, I desperately needed a change of clothes. I scrubbed myself down, changed my clothes, threw all offensive materials in the washing machine, and and sat down to write this post. Because, how could a day like this possibly go undocumented…