One Month Of Utter Joy And The Continuation Of Spring Break ’12

First of all, look who is one month old today.

Already.

My, how time flies when you’re not sleeping at night.

But honestly?  Look at that face!  Hubs and I completely forgive him for keeping us awake at night.  Every night.  All of the time.

We’re pretty sure it’s only a temporary thing, because once he gets married, Thing 2’s inability to sleep at night will become his wife’s problem, and Hubs and I will go back to quiet evenings at home in front of The Wheel of Fortune.

The last month has literally flown by, and so much has happened.  We’ve gone from a family of three to one of four.  Hubs and I have nailed schedules down and figured out how to mix formula with water from a thermos while we’re on the road and out of town.  I gasped the other morning, when I told a girlfriend, “I have to go pick up my kids,” because I had never used the pluralized word in a sentence like that before, and it made me VERY HAPPY.  I also quit cleaning house on a regular basis.  And I completely quit doing laundry.

I’d say that I gave up cooking, too, but that’s a lie.  I never really cooked to begin with, unless you count, “How long does a Lean Cuisine need to be in the microwave?” as cooking.

(And I totally do, actually.)

And… in other news…  Spring Break ’12 is still on like Donkey Kong.  We’re in the thick of it, and we’re living large.

That, people, is a whole lot of firepower to have in your home.  And also, Hubs and I are planning to have the boy treated for his depression.  We wish that he was less shy and more outgoing, and that he’d occasionally do something interesting in front of the camera, instead of just standing there like a bump on a log.

Oh, wait.

That is our kid hamming it up.  At least no one can claim that he isn’t secure and happy.

And also?  Do you know how many Nerf bullets can be shot around your family room when six boys are armed to the hilt?  Let’s just say that it is a number greater than three hundred, because it involved ALL of the Nerf bullets that the boy had, combined with, “Hey, Cute Neighbor Boy!  Run across the yard to your house and gather up every! single! Nerf dart! that you own.  And bring them here, to our house, so that we can shoot them around my parents’ family room and give my mama an aneurism.”

Custer’s last stand was probably less messy than our basement.  We had bullets and bodies and clothes and shoes and furniture everywhere.  And do you know what else?

We had happy boys!  We had boys who laughed until their sides hurt.  We had boys who shrieked with gladness.  Secure boys.  Well-loved boys.  Boys who will grow up to be incredible men and who will one day say, “One time… there were six of us… and the wind was really, really cold… so Mama let us shoot the snot out of one another in a Nerf war in her family room, and that’s the kind of childhood I want to give MY OWN children.”

Hopefully they leave out the part where Mama had her aneurism when they retell the story to their children.

Okay.

I didn’t really have an aneurism, but I did laugh out loud when Cousin B came upstairs to use the Men’s Room, and he had two stray bullets Velcroed to his back, which he knew nothing of.  I preformed a little CPR and dressed his wounds, after I yanked the two darts off the back of his shirt.  The kid was quite happy, because he went back downstairs with two extra bullets to fire at his enemies.

Eventually the boys all braved the cold wind, and they went outside to the boy’s playhouse.  Hubs and I marveled at all the silence, which made our ears ring.  And then Cousin M came inside to announce that he was tired of the playhouse conversation, because everyone was talking about WHAT GIRL THEY LIKED, and he wanted no part of that craziness!

Truthfully, I liked it better when they were inside shooting each other senseless.  I don’t know how they have managed to get THIS BIG!  They should all still be toddlers, fighting over sippy cups and plastic dinosaurs and completely oblivious to the girls.

Stay little, Thing 2.  Stay little… shoot your Nerf guns… and don’t ever mention girls in front of Mama.  Mama wants you to stay tiny forever and never have a girl catch your interest.

Unless you’re talking about getting married and taking your I DON’T LIKE TO SLEEP WHEN IT’S DARK issues to a new house with your wife.  Then you and Mama and Daddy will talk.

Happy Thursday evening, people, and may your Easter Weekend be a blessed one, where the empty tomb really hits your heart like a Nerf bullet, because OH MY WORD!  Isn’t that empty tomb the key to absolutely everything?

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