I can’t believe the last time I blogged was last Friday, despite all the blog posts that rambled around in my head all week. For some reason I just can’t get to the computer as much as I used to… oh yeah, I had a baby that’s why. I’ve also been super tired this week with a cold running me down on top of already being tired from having 4 kids.

Oh yes, I have 4 kids — 4!! It’s finally catching up to me and I am feeling it.

This week was a bit hellish with the 3-year-old, whoever dubbed the 2′s as terrible apparently never had a 3-year-old. Most days I just want to hide from him. I tried locking him in the bathroom for a little bit but don’t worry he’s apparently old enough to know how to unlock the doors but not old enough to know better than screaming at the top of his lungs while spazzing out on the floor. As if not getting exactly what he wants when he wants it is the END OF THE WORLD.

Tuesday was terrible (with him) so when he woke up at 6:30 a.m. the next day screaming at his brother I cried, really. I wanted to quit and run to Tahiti (why do people always go there? I mean what is so great about the place?…..) Oh this is why:

Yeah I think a few days in Tahiti might be good, but then I would miss him and the rest of my family. Maybe I’ll just print this picture and stick it on my 3-year-old’s face when he freaks out…then maybe I won’t join him.

Thankfully, my husband is my knight in shining armor.

Take that 3-year-old! (Yes, this is exactly what my husband looks like…except with shorter blonder hair and bigger muscles and no mustache.)

He told him, firmly, to listen and be good for me because I’m his mother and I deserve to be treated well. [happy sigh] My hero.

I know there is an endangered group of feminists out there who think they don’t need any man to rescue them but I’m glad I have my husband around to step in, even though it does cut right through my pride to admit I need his help and that my children don’t listen to me in the same way they do with him.

Some days I wonder if I’m in the wrong place or if my husband and I should swap places since the kids listen to him so much better and I enjoy being around adults whereas he is happy being home all day or out in the middle of the country alone with the night sky. It might become a problem though when the baby needed to nurse…maybe if I got him this.

I think about what it would be like if I worked out of the home instead of stayed home. I’d get to wear fancy clothes (that didn’t have stains or smell like baby spit up). I’d get to talk to people about amazingly important things. I’d be…important. Wait, I am important, even if my 3-year-old doesn’t think so, I matter and what I do here in the home with my children may go unnoticed or taken for granted but boy oh boy(s) would they be missing me if I were gone most of the day…right? Yes. Besides, when I’m old and gray I’d regret not staying home with them while they were  young way more than I’d regret making my way to the top in the workplace. (and one day they’ll be older and I’ll have more time/energy for extra-domestic/child-rearing activities)

I was washing the dishes the other day and thinking about all this while the 3-year-old was carrying on about something catastrophic and remembered that God doesn’t give us what we can’t handle. So I said to Him, “Well, I ain’t handling this so you’re gonna have to help me out here.

I went nursing bra shopping this week. I came, I saw, I conquered. Thank you Motherhood Maternity for understanding that not every breastfeeding woman suddenly grows porn-star boobs just because they’re filled with yummylicious milk but we still need comfortable support for our precious ’girls’.  And thank you Motherhood Maternity for understanding that most postpartum mothers do not care to wear shirts that show off their used-to-be baby pouches.

I survived that shopping trip in the mall with my most wonderful and beautiful mother-in-law. She got to see the 3-year-old at his finest. I was both embarrassed and glad I had a witness–I’m not just making this stuff up! She’s been real great. Our strolley broke that day – before the shopping trip which is one reason it was so bad. Know what she did? Went out and bought us one the next day. God bless her. Now I can strap the wonderful 3-year-old in there (or at least threaten to) when I venture with him out of the safety of our house.

I love my 3-year-old. Now you probably think I’m bipolar. Actually maybe I am. I think the baby thinks so. One minute I’m yelling and throwing things at the kids and the next I’m play peek-a-boo and cooing and whispering sweet nothings into my baby’s ear.  (Ok I don’t really throw things at them, only in their general direction…when they aren’t looking.) I’m so glad for my smiley happy baby. Maybe I am bipolar but his smiles keep me from going crazy.

I sat down to journal but then it turned into a random stream of conscious update. I guess I could have joined Jen’s 7 Quick Takes but I would have more than 7 and now I’ve stayed up too late it’s not Friday anymore…so much for going to bed early tonight!

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